Miss Strang Chapter 53
By Governess
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 53
I sat uncomfortably beside Miss Strang as we rode home, my eyes wet and bleary. I had expressed a wish to be a boy and Miss Strang had taken me at my word. She had told Mr Wilberforce and the lady in the umbrella shop that I had the bad, vicious habits of a boy. I had masturbated with all the enjoyment of a boy. And she had caned me like a boy. Caned me publicly. I wriggled on the wooden bench, trying to avoid the painful ridges that the cane had raised. But those thick, throbbing ridges only confirmed my status as a boy. And part of me was proud of it.
"Well, Oliver, are you enjoying being dressed as a boy?"
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"And being punished as a boy?"
"I . . . I don't think I enjoy being punished like a boy, Miss Strang."
"But if you are to be a boy, Oliver, then you will have to accept a boy's punishment."
We clattered along the lanes and for a while nothing more was said. After several minutes Miss Strang spoke again.
"As you are discovering, Oliver, a boy of your age is dealt with rather differently from a boy of John's age."
Again there was silence. After a minute or so, she continued.
"More is expected of a boy who is nearly thirteen. And therefore more must be demanded. Much more."
Again a pause. I sat with my hands tucked beneath me, listening with mounting anxiety.
"And of course, a boy of your age, Oliver, is increasingly restless under discipline."
She gave the flank of the horse a sharp cut with the whip. After a while she continued.
"You probably think that I am strict with you. In fact I have given you a great deal of leeway. But for a boy of nearly thirteen, there can be no leeway. For him life must become a straitjacket. A straitjacket in which he is bound to the will of his governess until obedience is so ingrained, that he can be trusted to begin the great task of ruling himself."
My hands were still tucked beneath my thighs. I was aware of my breathing and of my heart thumping in my chest. Behind me John and Simon sat saying nothing. I could sense how intently they were listening. But no more was said and we travelled in silence.
We debouched from the trap and after removing our top clothes returned to the schoolroom. The morning was uneventful. We were all kept solidly at our work until lunchtime.
"Now after lunch, Oliver, we shall spend the afternoon on Latin. A boy of your age should be able to translate and construe to a good standard."
She smiled.
"So, you have that to look forward to. And while you are engaged on Latin, John will work on his long division, and Simon will learn his tables. At the end of the afternoon, there will be a test for everyone. And I expect no mistakes."
We cleared our desks and prepared to go into lunch.
"And Oliver you may now take off that placard. You are no longer considered to be in disgrace. You may converse normally."
"Thank you Miss Strang."
She took the placard from me.
"It will be kept in my desk. Now let us go in to lunch."
Suddenly, I realised that neither Mrs Mountfield nor Mary had seen me dressed as a boy. I felt hot and clammy at the thought. But the lunch had been laid, and whoever had laid it had departed. Throughout the meal there was little talking. At the end, Miss Strang rang for the table to be cleared. And after a short while, Mrs Mountfield entered.
"Well, Miss Strang, I see we have had a guest for lunch. But where is Miss Livia?"
"Livia has had to go away for a short while, Mrs Mountfield. Her place has been taken by Oliver. A boy who is in need of close supervision and discipline. And while he is with us, he will be treated as though he were John's and Simons's brother."
She looked at me.
"Say good afternoon to Mrs Mountfield, please, Oliver."
I did so and from the look on Mrs Mountfield's face, I could tell that she was taking a particular delight in my discomfiture. I remembered how she had spanked Simon the day before, and I felt distinctly nervous.
"Well, it will be nice for Simon and John to have an older brother to look up to and learn from, Miss Strang."
"Unfortunately, Mrs Mountfield little to their advantage will be learnt from Oliver at the moment. But that is going to change, is it not Oliver?"
For a girl to blush prettily is one thing, but for a boy to go red in the face seldom adds to his appearance. I was angry with myself for colouring up, and deeply ashamed at such attention.
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"And would you care to tell Mrs Mountfield what we bought in town this morning."
"Some new clothes, Miss Strang."
"Oliver I thought I said 'tell Mrs Mountfield what we bought'. You are either not listening or refusing to understand. You do not need to tell me what we bought. Address yourself to Mrs Mountfield. I will seek an apology from you in a moment. But we bought something other than clothes, did we not, Oliver?"
She smiled, a faint knowing smile.
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"So please, tell Mrs Mountfield what that was."
"We bought a cane, Mrs Mountfield."
"Did we Master Oliver? And why was that, do you think?"
"I . . I suppose it's to punish me . . . Mrs Mountfield."
"Yes, I am sure it is young man."
Miss Strang ruffled my hair, just as she did with John.
"Yes, Mrs Mountfield. But I expect you are wondering why we need a new cane?"
"Well, it does cross my mind, Miss Strang. Given there's the birch."
"Yes, Mrs Mountfield. The birch is an excellent instrument of correction. Immensely flexible in more ways that one. I have even used it on a child of five. A featherweight of a boy who was brought to his senses by half a dozen sharp cuts. But also on a boy of sixteen. A rude arrogant boy, full of defiance and braggadocio, who was reduced to a blubbering baby by the punishing leathery twigs swished three dozen times across his bare, muscly bottom."
She put her arm on my shoulder.
"Oliver, go and fetch the new cane from my desk so that Mrs Mountfield can see it."
I handed the cane to Miss Strang.
"And this is the new cane, Mrs Mountfield. A dragon cane. Not ordinary rattan."
She swished it through the air."
"Oliver has already received four strokes on his bare bottom, have you not, Oliver?"
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"And was it painful?"
"Ye . . yes, Miss Strang."
She ran her hand down its dark, smooth length."
"And half an inch in diameter, Mrs Mountfield. A cane to raise thick throbbing weals on a boy's flesh."
She paused. I glanced at Mrs Mountfield whose eyes were brightly dark. She was nodding appreciatively.
"More painful than the birch, Miss Strang?"
"Probably not, Mrs Mountfield. Although certainly more immediately painful. And unlike the birch always there and always ready. A boy of Oliver's age must constantly be kept up to the mark. Frequent discipline is essential. I have governed twelve and thirteen year old boys who sometimes needed flogging several times in the same day. One cannot forever be binding up birch rods. There will be occasions when a rod will need to be bound up, but to have readily available a stout, flexible cane such as this is the practical solution."
She looked across at John.
"And it will not be long before, John will be graduating to a cane such as this."
John flushed and shifted uneasily in his seat.
And now Oliver, before we recommence lessons, can you think of anything that you need to apologise for?"
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"Very good, Oliver. And what would that be?"
"I . . I didn't listen to what you asked me to do, and did the wrong thing . . . I'm sorry, Miss Strang. I truly am."
I despised myself for so lamely owning up to so trivial a fault and worse apologising for it. But a child under threat of punishment has seldom the wish to be a martyr in a hopeless cause.
"And what did you do, Oliver? What exactly did you do?"
"I replied to you and not to Mrs Mountfield . . . which is what you asked me to do."
"A matter of little consequence, do you think?"
"I . . . I'm not sure . . . Miss Strang."
"Then let me assure you, Oliver, it is a matter of considerable consequence. In a younger child it would be corrected, probably verbally, and at most with a spanking. But you are nearly thirteen. You have had many years to learn how to listen carefully. Many years of learning obedience. Therefore, even the smallest departure is reprehensible. Small things matter, Oliver."
She pointed to the door.
"All of you go into the schoolroom. Simon and John, go and sit at your desks. And Mrs Mountfield, please join us."
I got up, pushing my chair back angrily. Miss Strang followed behind me.
"Go and fetch the Bible from the bookshelf, Oliver."
I did so.
"And turn to St Luke's Gospel. I hope you know where that is."
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"And now find chapter sixteen."
I thumbed through the pages.
"And now read me the first half of verse ten.
"He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much; and . . . "
"I said the first part of the verse, Oliver. Not the whole verse. Again you are not listening or are refusing to understand."
I bit my lip hard, so that it hurt.
"So what does it mean, He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much? Well?"
"I've no idea, Miss Strang."
There was long pause.
"You have no idea?"
I was angry. Angry with myself and angry with Miss Strang. Caution was thrown to the wind, and my reply was not merely impolite, but rude."
"None at all . . Miss Strang."
There was silence. I could hear Mrs Mountfield's breathing. Simon cleared his throat. And Miss Strang smacked the cane against the material of her long skirt.
There was a studied sweetness in Miss Strang's reply that boded ill.
"Well, Oliver, I had better explain. Put the Bible on the desk and place your hands behind your back."
She walked over and laid the cane on the top of her desk. Then turned and stepped slowly and purposefully toward me, and then ruffled my hair.
"He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much. If a small boy has been trained not to take a chocolate from the chocolate box when no one is looking, he has acquired the habit of respecting other people's possessions. He is then most unlikely, when he is older, to steal from a shop or from his governess's purse. A small boy who is spanked for telling a little fib is being taught that truth is important. And when he is older, he can be trusted not to tell lies on matters that are far more important than the small matter about which he told a childish fib."
She paused.
"Little things matter, Oliver, because bigger things are built on those little things. The habit of listening carefully and obeying is important. It is important for a child, and becomes yet more important for an adult. When I told you to reply to Mrs Mountfield and you replied to me instead, it may have seemed a small matter. As does reading a whole verse of scripture when you had been told to read only the first half of the verse. But listening carefully is listening carefully, and obeying is obeying. If you can't listen to easy instructions and obey them, how are you going to manage with more complicated instructions?"
She ran her hand through my hair, her fingers scratching close to the scalp.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"And I, too, have to be faithful in small matters. If I ignore childish mischief and naughtiness, then before long I will be letting more substantial sins go uncorrected. For if I cannot be bothered to provide discipline in small matters, then when a more severe punishment is required, how easy it would be to let that slip, too."
She smiled.
"And I seem to recall that a girl called Livia was disciplined for failing to heed and obey not so long ago. You might have learnt from her."
I was aware of a little intake of breath as she paused for a moment.
"But you have chosen not to."
She ran the length of the cane through her left hand.
"No Oliver, this is not a small matter. You are not a little five year old. You have demonstrated an ingrained resistance and contempt for my word that is disgraceful in a boy of your age. And when I asked you the meaning of the verse of scripture you spoke with a disrespect that I have seldom seen before. And that is in front of your brothers. Mrs Mountfield said a moment ago how good it was for them to have an older brother to look up to and learn from."
She ruffled my hair again. I resisted her with a little movement of my head.
"Well, what they are going to learn is how a twelve year old boy is dealt with when he shows such resistance and contempt. And that is a valuable lesson for boys of their age. A most valuable lesson.
(To be continued)