Miss Strang Chapter 39
By Governess
liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com

Copyright 2009 by Governess, all rights reserved

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 39

When I returned with the chamber pot I was told to place it beside Miss Strang's desk.

"And now Livia, you will face the wall for a quarter of an hour and reflect on how wrong it was to treat John as you treated him. And also to anticipate how a similar treatment is shortly to be meted out to you. And not a murmur from you. You will stand absolutely still and silent."

As I stood there I could hear Miss Strang moving about the room and rearranging it in some way. After a short while she sat at her desk. I felt a cold, clammy fear rising within me.

At last the time was up.

"Well the clock tells me that a quarter of an hour has now passed. So, Livia, please come and stand here."

As I turned, I saw that the long, low, padded stool that had been used to support John's thighs had been placed in the middle of the room.

"Kneel on the stool, Livia. And now bend forward with your elbows on the stool. Bring your elbows back so that they touch your knees. And your head right down touching the stool, please."

She rucked up my nightdress. I rested there with my bottom bare and elevated, offering myself for the suppository to be inserted.

"You told me you had been given a suppository before, Livia. Was it unpleasant?"

"Not unpleasant... Miss Strang. It didn't really hurt, but... but it felt strange."

"Yes, I am sure it did."

She paused.

"Do you think that John would say of the nettle stem that you inserted into his little anus that it felt strange but did not hurt?"

She waited.

"Well?"

"N... no, Miss Strang. He would say that it hurt a lot. Please, I am so sorry I did that to him."

She went to her desk and picked up a jar and a round tin.

"I expect, Livia, you are wondering how a suppository can hurt that much. It is after all only an oval lump of firm jelly, is it not? Nothing like a stiff nettle stem. Well?"

"I... don't know, Miss Strang. Please."

"Then, let me explain. This is tin of Wintergreen ointment."

She unscrewed the lid and held it under my nose. It smelt strong and sharp and caught the back of my throat.

"Wintergreen is for treating sore and aching joints and muscles, Livia. You rub it in and it feels warm and tingles and relaxes you. And if a child has a bad cold and finds it difficult to breathe, it may be used as an embrocation on the chest, at night, to help breathing. But if it gets on more sensitive places, like eyes, or lips, or that little sac between a boy's legs, or gets rubbed on a girl's little slit, then is burns with an icy fire."

She opened the jar and took out a fat, oval suppository.

"So, Livia, I am going to smear this suppository with Wintergreen ointment. Enough to ensure that when it is inserted into your anus, as it is going to be, it will be very painful and unpleasant. It will torment you as you tormented John. Do you understand?"

I shut my eyes tight and imagined running away, hiding in the grounds, escaping. But it was as if Miss Strang were reading my mind

"And remember, Livia, anything less than full co-operation and you may expect to be caned. Once the suppository has been satisfactorily inserted, you will stand against the wall and hold it in. A suppository can take up to half an hour to dissolve and bring about a bowel movement. But with the Wintergreen, it will take longer. But you will retain it until you feel your bowels beginning to move. When that happens, you are to tell me, and you may then go and sit on the chamber pot. But be warned. Once on the pot, I shall expect a speedy evacuation. Do not tell me you are having a bowel movement until you are absolutely certain. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"Good. I am pleased at your ready response."

I watched as, in front of me, she smeared the suppository with Wintergreen, before walking round to my rear. I felt the thumb and forefinger of her left hand spreading my bottom cheeks apart, revealing the small, puckered opening The suppository was cold against my anus as she pressed it in with her thumb and then with the long forefinger of her right hand. I tightened in resistance. But the pressure was constant and firm, and slowly it moved inwards. Further and further in. I thought I could feel her knuckle pass over the rim of my anus. Deeper and deeper it went. She twisted her finger so that her hand was facing upward to allow the finger to stretch to its full extent. Then after a moment, with a spiralling movement, it was withdrawn.

"Kneel up, straight up on your knees. And clench you bottom."

I did so and she placed her left hand over my pubic bone with the fingers curling beneath my legs, and with the right pressed and squeezed by bottom cheeks tightly together.

"We do not want Mr Suppository to come out, do we, Livia?"

Already I could feel the icy burning sensation that was becoming more acute by the moment. At first it seemed quite supportable. But it was not long before I was wriggling madly, desperate to find a way to mitigate the agony.

"Keep clenching the bottom, Livia."

Still she squeezed my buttocks together, defeating any possibility of my eliminating the burning blob of tormenting jelly. Minutes went by. I became more and more frenzied.

"In a moment, Livia, I will cease squeezing your bottom cheeks together. When I do so, you will ease yourself up, still clenching your buttocks tightly, and make your way slowly and carefully to the wall where you will stand. With your back to it. And all the time you will clench your bottom cheeks tightly together. If you do that there should be little risk of the suppository coming out unless helped by you. So be warned, Livia. If there is any straining, any attempt to rid yourself of it, then you will be caned. And another suppository will be inserted. Do you understand?"

I had no idea how I could tolerate such relentless agony.

"Please, Miss Strang. I can't... It's burning me. I'm on fire. Please, please... "

"I am sorry Livia. But it is meant to burn and torment. As you tormented your brother."

Slowly she took her hands away.

"Make your way to the wall, Livia. Carefully. Clenching all the time. That is good."

I eased myself round until I was seated on the edge of the stool, still clenching desperately. Slowly I managed to stand, fearful lest I had an accident. Like an old woman, hunched and bent, I made my way to the wall. I stood there looking out through eyes that were finding it difficult to focus.

'My bowels boiled, and rested not' wrote Job. And mine, too, were boiling, filled with a scalding, corrosive liquid that was consuming my intestinal flesh, torturing and tormenting me until I was beyond the limit of my endurance.

"I can't... I can't... "

"Can't is not a word I care to hear from a child, Livia. You will stand there containing yourself until you are ready to go. Not another word."

I began to pound my head back against the wall in my agony.

"Stop that this instant!"

I stood, twisting my legs, clenching my bottom, gasping and sobbing. Through my bleary eyes I saw that my governess was now seated at her desk. She had made me stand with my back to the wall so that she could watch me suffer. Watch every contortion of my tear sodden face, my hair damp and adhering to my cheeks. And to my suffering was added the ignominy of being exposed to that steady approving gaze. The knowledge that my governess relished my torment, as the righteous in heaven relish the torment of those souls in purgatory for it is their gateway to celestial bliss.

The strain of clenching and containing myself was beginning to tell and my whole body felt as though it was suffering on the rack. I had no idea how long it was until by bowels started to respond to the suppository. But I remembered what Miss Strang had said about not alerting her to a movement until I was sure. But how could I be sure. And yet I knew that the last thing I must do was to defecate on the floor, letting go before I had reached the chamber pot. And as I waited I became more and more certain. Then I was desperate.

"Miss Strang... Please. I need to go."

"Are you sure, Livia? Quite sure?"

"Yes. Yes. Quickly. Please, Miss Strang, I can't hold it in. I'm going, I'm going."

She picked up the chamber pot and deposited it in front of me. And as I lowered myself on to it, my bowels opened. The spluttering noise was disgusting, and the smell even worse as the burning liquid mass with lumps of faecal material poured from me.

Miss Strang smiled.

"Sit there a moment, Livia. There may be more to come."

She moved across and rang the servants' bell. It was rarely used, for Mrs Mountfield knew the times for setting and clearing away meals, and at other times I, or one of my brothers, took messages downstairs.

I sat there weeping. my inside still burning. To be seen with my knickers down, bent over the arm of the chair for the cane, would have been preferable to this. To being seen seated on the chamber pot like a small child with the heavy smell of my recent bowel movement lingering on the schoolroom air. Never had I felt so degraded.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door, and Mrs Mountfield entered.

"Yes, Miss Strang?"

"As you can see, Livia has had a suppository and I need to wipe her bottom for her. Do you think you could fetch a roll of lavatory paper, and a small bowl of warm water with a sponge? And a towel, too, please."

"Certainly Miss Strang. Will that be all?"

"Yes, Mrs Mountfield, that will be all for the moment."

When she had gone, Miss Strang stroked my head, running her fingers through my hair. She said nothing, and we waited for Mrs Mountfield to return. There was another spluttering emission into the pot, and I felt as though my intestines were coming away from me.

Mrs Mountfield brought the requested items and was asked to place them on the table. When she had departed, Miss Strang continued to stroke my head for a moment.

"Now before anything else, let us wipe your bottom."

She placed an armless upright chair on my left side, at right angles to me, and well forward. When she had picked up the large white towel, she seated herself, spreading it across her lap. Then she reached down and lifted my nightdress, draping it around my shoulders.

"Stand up, Livia, and lie across my lap."

Gently she ministered to me, wiping my bottom gently and then dropping the heavily stained pieces of paper into the pot. I relaxed and felt like a very small child.

"And now, Livia, let us finish off with a nice warm douche."

I wriggled off her lap and she walked across to the table, towel in hand, and picked up the small bowl of water, dropping the sponge into it. She then sat again and I resumed my position. And as she sponged my bottom, I felt even more like a little child. I squirmed a little as she squeezed the sponge into my anus and twisted it, catching the drips in the bowl she held underneath. Then, she tenderly dried between my legs.

"That's much better. And is the tummy still hurting?"

"Yes, Miss Strang. It hurts a lot. But it's not burning so much. But it feels very sore, and aches."

"Well, I am sorry it was necessary to give you a punishment suppository. But what you did to John was wrong. Very wrong. I hope it has made you realise how he suffered and felt."

She waited.

"Yes, Miss Strang. It has. I am so sorry."

"That is good, Livia. It will enable you to apologise to John at breakfast tomorrow knowing exactly what you are apologising for. Do you understand?"

I was still resting over her lap, and she was stroking by bottom gently. It was calming and pleasurable.

"Miss Strang?"

"Yes, Livia?"

"Miss Strang... Do I still need to be birched tomorrow?"

"Yes, Livia. The suppository was, as I explained, not a punishment but an aid to help you to a better understanding of what you had done. And even if it was a punishment for hurting John, that was but one aspect of your wrongdoing. There are other stains for which you have to atone. Your disobedience, your deceit. You do understand that, do you not, Livia?"

"Yes... yes, Miss Strang."

"I am glad. Now let us say prayers and then you must go to bed. Kneel down.

I knelt, easing up my nightdress. The schoolroom floor was hard to my knees. Miss Strang placed her hand on my head.

Dear Father God, we thank you for all your blessings to us. We thank you that you are a loving God and have not left children in their sins but have given those in authority over them the right to chastise them.

May Livia learn from the hand that has been soundly strapped that she must be attentive and obedient at all times.

Grant, too, having suffered as John has suffered, that she may understand the depth of her sin against him and seek his forgiveness.

And tomorrow, Father, may I administer the birch with diligence and in such love that Livia may pass through the dreadful agony of chastisement to a new and restored life.

We ask this in the name of Jesus who too learned obedience through the things that he suffered. Amen."

I felt as though I was being blessed. Her hand was warm as it pressed upon my head. As I held my hands together, I could still feel the heat and tingling from the strapping. And as I listened to the words of the prayer I felt strangely peaceful. And yet apprehensive, too, at the dreadful day of judgement ahead. Years later I would become familiar with the Dies Irae.

Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!

What trembling there will be
When the judge shall come
to weigh everything strictly!

I knew that tomorrow I was to be brought to judgment. That I would stand before Miss Strang as souls at the final resurrection would stand before God. That I would have to answer for my sins. That I would be judged strictly. There would be no leniency for leniency would fail to recognise the true weight of my sins. And if that was done there would be no hope for me. My sins has to be atoned for, had to be dealt with, if there was to be any hope of reconciliation. I knew that at the last day the souls that rose would be able to plead the sufferings of Christ Jesus.

Quaerens me, sedisti, lassus;
Redemisti crucem passus;
Tantus labor non sit cassus.
Juste Judex ultionis,
Donum fac remissionis
Ante diem rationis.

Seeking me, you sank down wearily,
you saved me by enduring the cross,
such travail must not be in vain.
Righteous judge of vengeance,
award the gift of forgiveness
before the day of reckoning.

But I was still a child. The sufferings of Christ were not yet mine to plead. As Miss Strang reminded us on more than one occasion, children were reconciled under the sacrament of the rod. A governess shared in Christ's High Priestly Office and ruled over those in her charge. And through physical chastisement the merits of Christ's sufferings were ministered to them. That children were thereby permitted to share physically in the sufferings of Christ was a great and terrible mystery. It was something I pondered on deeply in the years ahead.

And as I knelt under Miss Strang's hand and listened to her intercession on my behalf, I knew, even then, that the suffering I was to endure the following day was the only path to reconciliation. That my agony would be a small childlike sharing in the terrible sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ.

I felt tears pricking at my eyes.

(To be continued)