Miss Strang Chapter 43

Miss Strang Chapter 43
By Governess
liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com

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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 43

I looked around the library. The shelves of books were high, reaching almost to the ceiling. Along each length was a ladder that could be pulled along and that was attached to a rail above the shelves. Although the library was forbidden to me, I had often trespassed there, and it was by clambering up such a ladder that I had discovered the book that depicted the impaling of the three boys. There were also several library stools. In the corner was a pail in which were steeping the two birch rods I had prepared earlier in the morning.

The stools were of varying heights. Each had an 'S' shaped hole cut into its seat through which fingers might be inserted to assist with its moving. Miss Strang picked up a tall stool and swung it into position in front of a ladder. She beckoned to me.

"Please remove your knickers, Livia."

I reached under my dress.

"And now your dress. Pick up your knickers and place them with your dress on the chair. No, hang the dress neatly. There is no need to crease it."

Then I was made to remove my petticoat and my under vest. I stood naked except for my stockings. In the silence, I heard the chink of a tea cup as it was replaced on a saucer. A shiver went through me.

I had sometimes stood before my mirror in a similar state of undress. I closed my eyes, and I could see the girl, waiting to be flogged. Her stockings puckered slightly at the knee. They hugged her twelve year old thighs, and above her stocking tops the flesh was plump and pale. Her bottom was full and rounded, with an almost translucent quality. A bottom that still showed the marks of an earlier correction. At the sight of this girl naked but for her stockings, my pulse beat a little faster. The stockings afforded no modesty but rather imparted a voluptuousness to her slim, boyish figure. Her breasts were only just budding into womanhood, and there was as yet no sign of hair. But the way she moved suggested a girl who was sensually awakened and who took great delight in her own body.

Miss Strang was speaking to me.

"Livia, you will please bend forward over the stool."

My stomach rested flat against the smooth surface. It was cold and I shivered.

"Stretch out your arms."

I stretched them forward and shut my eyes. I felt something being wound tightly around my right wrist. I looked and saw that Miss Strang had in her hand a reel of document tape. My arm was pulled forward and the tape was bound to a step of the ladder so that my hand was firmly secured beneath the tread. The left wrist was similarly secured. A fluttering panic started to mount within me.

"Do you propose securing Livia's legs to the stool, Miss Strang?"

"No, I think not, Mr Innes. A little kicking is perfectly acceptable if it does not impede the administration of the punishment. If it does, then her legs will certainly be secured."

With my eyes shut I could again see the girl in her stockings, now bent over the stool, her hands secured to the tall wooden ladder. The surface skin of her bottom had tautened as she bent forward, but her buttocks were still round and fleshy. I walked across to the pail and selected a birch, swishing it through the air, flicking the surplus moisture from the lithe twigs that had been steeping in the water. I looked at her. So this was the girl who lay in bed at night and masturbated. The girl who loved to stroke herself and feel the soft weight of her own bottom flesh. Here was a girl who deserved to be flogged like any boy.

And then the first cut bit into my flesh. I gasped at the sharp penetrating pain. But this was what the girl deserved. Disobedience, lying, deceit needed to be punished. But above all, it was the sensual revelling in her own body that needed to be cleansed and cauterised. Miss Strang had assured me that for a girl masturbation was not wrong, and never a dreadful burning compulsion as with a boy, but a soft comforting thing. But this girl revelled in it like a boy. There was a smouldering fire between her legs that with a light touch would burst into a terrible conflagration. She might not have seed to spill like a boy, but she had the same desperate compulsion. The fire was beaten out in a boy by relentless flogging. It also needed to be beaten out in such a girl. I could see her there, her bottom impudently swelling above her stocking tops. Bent over. Waiting.

Another stroke was given. I screwed up my eyes, and the darkness was filled with little flickering lights. After a pause the birch again cut into my flesh. I remembered what Miss Strang had said to John. That at first a birching seemed of little consequence, a mere irritation as though gnats were biting the skin. But as stroke succeeded stroke, a fiery agony built up, until it was as though fierce red ants were stripping away the living flesh. I was squirming desperately now, trying to escape the remorseless smarting pain. I pressed down on the top on the stool and brought up my legs, kicking them desperately, as I screamed and writhed.

"Are you sure, Miss Strang, that Livia's legs should not be secured?"

"No, Mr Innes, I am quite happy for her to kick a little. It tells me that the lesson I am teaching is being well learnt."

I could see the long inflamed stripes on the soft pale skin, the pores raised in angry protest at the fiery impact of the lithe twigs. My bottom was being cut as though with red hot wire. I could hear the shrieks as I pressed down upon the stool, stretching out my legs, bringing my heels back toward my bottom, kicking out in my agony but also in rage at the humiliating torture. I pulled frantically against the restraints around my wrists, shaking my head and screaming, until the lining of my throat was torn. I chewed my lip and could taste the blood in my mouth. My whole bottom felt as though it was being completely flayed of its skin.

"You will please make less noise, Livia. I am going to allow you five minutes in which to smart before administering the next twelve strokes. Those will be given with a fresh rod."

I lay there panting, a small girl whipped and smarting for her sins. The devilish longing to touch and stroke myself had been driven out. And yet . . . and yet, as the pain abated, the little wriggling serpent that lived between my legs stirred. Like the phoenix it inhabited the fire, and could not be burnt away. It renewed itself even as I lay panting over the library stool, my hands bound to the ladder. I wriggled and stretched out my fingers. The warm, voluptuous smarting of my bottom flesh seemed to spread and radiate into the secret place where the snake lived. I could feel it moving, stirring, demanding attention. I was suddenly overcome with insensate rage at having my hands secured. I screamed and tore at my bonds, kicking and shaking the stool.

"I hate you . . . I hate you . . . "

There was silence. Nothing stirred. No tea cup chinked in its saucer. I burst into helpless tears of frustrated rage. And then I screamed a long piercing scream,

"Aaaaagh . . . aaaaagh,"

and shook the ladder with all the strength that a twelve year old girl can muster.

I lay limp and waited. Mrs Innes was the first to speak.

"If I may say so Miss Strang, I have rarely witnessed such a demonic outburst. If Livia was in my charge . . . "

"Yes, Mrs Innes? If Livia was in your charge . . . ?"

"I would not hesitate to have her flogged like a runaway reformatory boy. Her bottom would be marked for a week. I have never encountered such disgraceful behaviour in a twelve year old girl."

Although I could not see Miss Strang, I sensed her weighing her words.

"I am grateful to you Mrs Innes. It is indeed disgraceful behaviour. And I will deal with it in my own way and in my own time. There are other ways of correcting such a fit of childish pique than flogging. Ways that Livia will find equally distasteful."

Her cold, clear, authoritative voice was sobering. I trembled, fearful at what she might have in mind. I wanted to plead with her. But I knew that could not be done.

"And now I suggest we leave Livia secured across the stool and finish our tea. And then, when you have departed, Livia and I will have a little discussion about her behaviour."

Mr Innes then spoke.

"I have to say, Miss Strang that there seems to be more to Livia's behaviour than bad-temper. Something devilish seems to be at work. She seems to me to be deserving of . . . "

"I am most grateful to you Mr Innes, but what Livia deserves is for me to decide. Trust me, Mr Innes, I will establish what it at the root of this unseemly outburst, and I will deal with it."

Mr Innes must have indicated his agreement for he did not speak again.

I lay across the stool and as I moved I could feel my bare stomach, hot and damp, adhering to the hard oak surface. I was in a state of turmoil and confusion. The little wriggling serpent of sensuality had stilled itself. Although I knew without any doubt that it was waiting, lurking in that, soft, dark, damp place between my thighs. That its flickering tongue would soon be darting and licking at me again.

I wondered with a new fear what Miss Strang meant by 'a little discussion.'

The conversation resumed over the tea table. Mrs Innes had a clear and rather intimidating voice and was telling Miss Strang how she had been responsible for the discipline of her own children from the earliest age.

"As soon as they were out of napkins they were spanked with the back of my hairbrush, Miss Strang. As I am sure you remember, Rachel?"

"Indeed I do Mamma."

"You were a most disobedient child. Most disobedient! But regular chastisement in accordance with God's word, slowly inculcated a spirit of compliance. It has always amazed me, Miss Strang, that children do not learn obedience more quickly, and that a child's will is not easily broken."

"I agree with you Mrs Innes. A wilful spirit is not easily subdued."

"And Rachel had a most determined will. A great deal of perseverance was necessary. But by the age of seven, I praised God that I had a truly obedient child. But soon after her seventh birthday, I discovered a sad truth. That a broken will is like a broken limb. It knits together again. And at that age a new spirit of wilfulness was born in her. And it was then that I laid aside the hairbrush, and procured a limber, crook-handled rattan cane. For several years, her bottom was bared and swished with that cane almost every week, sometimes twice a week. Any hint of wilfulness and the cane was taken from its hook and applied to bare flesh. And by the time she was nearly nine, obedience had been re-established. What a relief! But not for long. Not for long, Miss Strang. By the age of ten, the old wilfulness and indiscipline had reappeared. The broken bones of her will had mended. And her rebellious spirit was even stronger and more intractable."

"That is often the case, Mrs Innes. A broken bone that has knit together is often stronger than before."

"Indeed, Miss Strang.  And it was then the birch became the sole and regular means of chastising her.  Although a girl, she was spared nothing, and flogged like a schoolboy.  And look at her now, Miss Strang.  A young woman who is a credit to society!"

"Indeed, Mrs Innes. And did you have a similar experience with your sons?"

"I did, Miss Strang. Indeed I did. Although for them the birch was judged appropriate as a much younger age. Much younger!"

After a little further conversation, Miss Strang rang for Mary and asked that Mr and Mrs Innes and their daughter be shown out. Mary then returned to clear the remains of the tea. When she had gone, Miss Strang turned to me.

(To be continued)