Miss Strang Chapter 44
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 44

I felt Miss Strang's hand on my head. She stroked my hair and smoothed it back. I relaxed under the surprising gentleness. But she made no move to release me from my position over the stool or to unbind the hands that were secured to the library steps.

"I . . . I am sorry, Miss Strang."

"My memory must be very poor. I do not remember your saying that at all. Did you say 'I am sorry, Miss Strang'? No, I am sure not."

"Please . . . Miss Strang."

"I find this most surprising, Livia. Nor do I recall your saying 'Please, Miss Strang'.

She waited.

"Unless you want to be in even deeper trouble than you already are, Livia, I suggest that you concentrate a little more and tell me what it was you said. I am waiting."

"I . . . I . . ."

"Yes, Livia?"

"I . . . I said . . . "

I could barely get the words out. I whispered them almost inaudibly.

"I . . . I said . . . I said 'I hate you.'"

There was a pause as Miss Strang let the whispered confession rest on the library air, a declaration from my own lips of my perfidy. She spoke quietly, almost gently.

"Yes, that is what I recall, also."

She paused.

"And if you were governess to a twelve year old child, what would you say if she told you that she hated you? Well?"

"I . . . I don't know, Miss Strang. Please . . . please! Forgive me."

Miss Strang reached out and stroked my head. Then after a moment's thought she slowly reached out and began to untie the tape that bound my left hand to the step of the ladder. This was not easy, as my struggles had tightened the knot and made it difficult to undo. The same was true of the other knot, but eventually both hands were released. I watched as she wound the tape up into a small roll and held it in her hand.

She sat on a chair and made me stand beside her. I felt nervous and strangely more exposed standing by her side naked in my stockings than I had over the stool. My stockings were now puckered and slipping down my thighs.

She beckoned to me to come closer and held my hand in hers.

"Livia, I asked you a question. If you were governess to a twelve year old girl, what would you do if she told you that she hated you?"

"I . . . I'm not sure, Miss Strang."

"Well, would you be pleased?""

"No, Miss Strang. I wouldn't be pleased."

"And why would that be, Livia?"

"I suppose because I would be sorry that she hated me."

"But why should she not hate you? You have bent her naked over a stool, tied her hands to a ladder, flogged her with a birch rod. Why should she not hate you?"

"So why did she say she hated you. if all that is true?"

Her hand was now on my bottom. I shivered.

"Well, she might . . . might be angry and cross that she had to be punished."

"I think you are possibly right, Livia. So, if she was angry and cross, and had said that she hated you, what would you do?"

"Well, I don't think she should be allowed to be angry and cross and speak to her governess like that. So, I suppose . . . I suppose I would have to . . . to punish her for it."

I tingled, and reddened at the thought of punishing such a girl.

"Yes, I am sure she would need to be punished. But why is it so wrong for her to express her anger, and to speak to her governess in that way?

Suddenly I could see myself standing beside my governess, naked but for my stockings with her hand on my round, smooth bottom, a bottom whose smoothness was marred by the livid imprints of the birch.

"So why is it so wrong?"

"Because . . . because I am her governess. And she has to respect me."

"Yes, Livia. That is very perceptive. It is a matter of respect. A governess is the authority in a child's life. And without authority a child will have no boundaries to keep her safe. Just as a king rules over his subjects and makes laws for their own good, so does a governess make laws for the children who are subject to her. And as a king punishes those who break the laws he has given, so does a governess. And if a child ceases to respect her governess, then soon she will also cease to respect the laws the governess has imposed. A governess cannot therefore permit a child to speak disrespectfully to her. If she allowed that, the whole fabric of the child's life, and the lives of the other children who witnessed it, would unravel. That is why rudeness and disrespect in a child have to be so severely dealt with."

She paused.

"Do you understand that, Livia?"

"Yes, Miss Strang. I do understand that."

"So how do you think I should deal with your telling me that you hated me?"

I hung my head.

"Come now Livia. You have answered sensibly up to now. How should I deal with such an unseemly outburst?"

I knew that I had a further twelve strokes of the birch to suffer that afternoon. And another twelve to be inflicted at a time of Miss Strang's choosing. Strokes that would flay my skin, raise weals on my flesh, leave my bottom covered in a smarting rash of throbbing agony. I began to shake at the prospect of any addition to the already fearful tariff of discipline against my name. Tears began to prick at my eyes.

Miss Strang's hand still rested on the crown of my bottom.

"But Livia, you have already agreed that such wilful disrespect must be punished."

She paused.

"But I accept that with twenty four strokes of the birch yet to be administered, you are reluctant to suffer additional flogging. And, Livia, I am reluctant to impose it. However, you have shamed me before Mr and Mrs Innes. You have shown contempt for my authority. And I am afraid that cannot be overlooked."

She removed her hand from my bottom. Where the warmth had been I now felt the cool air on my skin.

"Have you anything to say?"

There was a long pause. Her lips compressed and her eyes narrowed.

"You are to spend time, probably later this week, at the vicarage, serving as Mrs Innes's personal maid. I am sure that is not something you welcome. Am I right about that, Livia?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"Mr Innes envisaged that it would be a lesson in humility and I am sure he is right. And I am in no doubt that Mrs Innes will be a most demanding mistress. Do you agree?"

I could feel my cheeks hot with shame and anger. But I managed to reply politely.

"Yes, Miss Strang. I am sure she will be . . . most demanding."

"And will have no hesitation in using the rod, if necessary, to keep you up to the mark."

I hung my head.

"Yes . . . Miss Strang."

"So, I might regard that as an appropriate penalty not only for your rudeness to Mr Innes, but also for you rudeness and disrespect to me?"

She waited for my response. I thought how a short while ago, I had been Miss Strang's favourite. Now, she had agreed to send me as a servant to the vicarage to work for Mrs Innes whom I knew to be harsh and unsympathetic. All because I had shown a small discourtesy to Mr Innes. A hot shiver ran through me. But I also knew that what Miss Strang was now suggesting, that a double sin should incur a single penalty, was wholly exceptional.

"It would be more than I deserve, Miss Strang."

She nodded.

"I fear you are right, Livia. Such clemency would be more than you deserve. Much more. The temptation to confer it must be resisted."

She paused.

"You will receive a further twelve strokes of the birch for your insolence to me, and they will be added to the twelve that are yet to be given. But although the penalty cannot be remitted, if you lie still and accept it as a contrite child should, then I am inclined to ameliorate its severity a little."

Suddenly, the thought of being bent again over the library stool and secured to the ladder filled me with horror.

"Please, Miss Strang . . . please don't tie me to the ladder again."

"I have no intention of doing so, Livia. You will be horsed instead.

I was suddenly aware of the cool air on my skin, as she continued.

"What was it that Mrs Mountfield was telling you this morning, Livia? How as a young woman in service she was required to horse a girl on her back."

She put her arm around me. Her hand was warm. My heart was beating against my rib cage like an imprisoned and fretful animal.

"Please, Miss Strang . . . "

"Why are you pleading with me, Livia? You asked not to have your hands tied to the ladder for punishment, and your wish is being granted. And I have already told you that if you are prepared to lie still and be accepting of your discipline, then the strokes will be administered with less vigour than is strictly justified."

She raised her eyebrows.

"And I may add these are concessions that you would be unlikely to receive from Mrs Innes . . . as I am sure you will discover later in the week."

"You will stand on a stool, reach forward and place your hands over the shoulders of the person horsing you. They will grasp you firmly by the forearms and bend forward. I will take away the stool and you will be left suspended over their back with a bare bottom presented for the rod. You will then be flogged."

"But . . but who . . . who is going to do it . . Miss Strang?"

"You mean who is going to horse you?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"I will ask Mary. She is a sturdy girl."

She walked across to the bell and rang it. In a few moments the door opened and Mary entered.

"Mary will you please tell Mrs Mountfield that I need you to assist in the library with Livia's punishment. I am sure she will understand. And when you return will you please collect a long bath towel from the washroom cupboard"

"Of course, Miss Strang."

I felt as though my stomach had turned to liquid and was draining away. I looked at Mary but she avoided my eyes. She reddened. Whether from shame at the betrayal, or from a nervous excitement at what lay ahead, I could not tell. But the sight of me still naked and stripped to my stockings, must have left her in no doubt as to the nature of the punishment I was to receive. I remembered how she had held Simon's head between her thighs so that Miss Strang could tawse the soles of his feet. Her relish for the task had been obvious as had been her throbbing delight as he bucked and twisted. And now I was to be offered to her as a sacrifice. The younger to the older so that she could revel in my misfortune. How I hated her at that moment.

When she returned, she was a little breathless.

"Put the towel on the chair, Mary. Now tell me have you ever horsed a child for punishment, perhaps a younger brother or sister?"

"No, Miss Strang."

"But you know what I mean by 'horsed'?"

"Yes, Miss Strang. I saw boys horsed and flogged at the orphanage. They went over matron's back."

"And if I asked you to horse Livia on your back so that she could be flogged, what would you say?"

"I . . . I would . . . think I could do that, Miss Strang."

I was quite small for my age and Mary was nearly five years older and had grown into a strong, young girl. A bitter loneliness seeped through me like rotting damp through a garment. Mary was my friend. I had trusted in her, confided in her. I had believed that she liked me and trusted me. But now I had the shame, the bitter shame, of having one who had been my friend taken from me and converted into my tormentress. For even though Mary could not refuse Miss Strang's request, I knew that she had no wish to do so. That she wanted to feel me writhing across her back as the birch cut into my soft bottom flesh.

And I knew how easy it was to betray another. How I had betrayed John and Simon. How I had enjoyed participating in my brothers' discipline and suffering. How I had tasted a nervous pleasure when each cut on John's skin had drawn blood. How I had delighted at the sight of Simon's bottom being spanked across Miss Strang's knee.

"Please hand me the towel, Mary."

She took from the pocket of her dress a further safety pin. The towel was placed so that its length hung down Mary's back with the uppermost end being fastened around her neck and pinned in the front. The bottom of the towel reached almost to her calves.

"The towel is a precaution against soiling, Livia. We do not want Mary's uniform to be spoilt by your having an unfortunate accident."

For some reason, I found this suggestion and the precaution taken against it deeply wounding. I narrowed my eyes and felt a deep hatred for the world.

"Now, please fetch the unused birch from the pail, Mary. It should be obvious which it is."

I watched as she handed the rod to Miss Strang who swished it through the air, shaking off the surplus moisture.

I thought that I had never experienced such humiliation. The draught of shame that I was having to drink was worse than the hemlock. The hemlock brought the chill of death . . . but this draught would leave me burning with shame and anger. I could hear the pulse in my ears like the insistent beat of the drum that accompanied a sailor boy's flogging. And I could feel the little serpent beginning to wriggle insistently between my legs, demanding an attention that I was unable to bestow.

(To be continued)