Miss Strang Chapter 60
By Governess

liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com

Copyright 2010 by Governess, all rights reserved

* * * * *
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.
* * * * *

Chapter 60

"And now John, you realise that I am looking for courage in the face of adversity. The courage that is expected from a boy of your age. You understand that?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And can you tell me the consequences of any further display of weak, spineless behaviour. Of girlish tears and tantrums?"

John made no reply."

"Well?"

"You . . . you said . . . you said I would not be allowed my clothes back."

"Did I? Is that what I said?"

"I . . . I . . . thought you did . . . Miss Strang."

"You mean go naked? Without any clothes at all?"

"No, no, Miss Strang. Not that. I meant I wouldn't be allowed my own clothes back."

She sighed.

"You really must learn to be more exact in your speech, John. Sloppiness of expression in a boy of your age is to be deplored. And I will not countenance it. Accuracy is simply a matter of thought and a little effort. And it is that lack that gets you into trouble time and time again."

He hung his head,

"I'm sorry, Miss Strang."

"What I said was that if you behave like a girl and squeal and cry like a girl, then you will wear girl's clothes for the rest of the week. What I am looking for, John, is a little bit of manly grit and determination. To accept your punishment without tears and without demeaning pleading. And if not like a man, then at least like a boy of nearly ten."

She stepped back to raise the tawse. But before she could deliver the stroke, the door opened.

"I hope you do not object to my coming to the schoolroom, Miss Strang. I have arrived back earlier than I expected."

"Not at all, Mr Arbuthnot."

"But I see that I am intruding at a particularly sensitive moment."

"Certainly not intruding, Mr Arbuthnot. I will suspend the boy's punishment so the children can greet you. And you can then hear at first hand how matters are progressing. John, turn around and stand in front of your desk. And Oliver and Simon, in front of your desks, too, please. Each of you will shake hands with your father and welcome him home."

No attempt was made to lower the dress John was wearing and he stood with it still pinned up. My father said nothing. Both boys addressed him as 'Sir' but when he offered me his hand, I addressed him as 'Father' as was my wont.

"Oliver, that is not the way a boy addresses his father. Please address him as 'Sir' as your brothers have done."

I felt a surge of resentment at my governess, but I did as she instructed.

"And now Mr Arbuthnot perhaps you would like to sit in the arm chair."

He did so and crossed his legs looking quizzically at us.

"Well, this is an ill assorted parade, Miss Strang. I can see that you have taken my remit to drum some discipline into these children seriously. Give me a report on each of them please. Start with the youngest.

"Well, Mr Arbuthnot. Simon is basically a good boy. He tries hard most of the time, but he does have a propensity to take rules imposed upon him less than seriously. For that he has been corrected on a number of occasions. He can also be forgetful and rude. And he needs to be encouraged to work more speedily and more accurately. For these faults he has also been punished.

"And how has he been punished, Miss Strang?"

"In a variety of ways. As we discussed the bedrock of discipline is the rod. The cane has been used to correct a deficiency of effort and for mistakes in work arising from inattention. I usually give two strokes for each item of uncompleted work and one stroke to correct errors in work attempted. I trust that that meets with your approval?"

"Certainly, Miss Strang. But as I made clear at the outset, these are matters for you and I would be most reluctant to intervene. But has the cane alone been used?"

"No. Simon has also been spanked with the hairbrush. Most recently by Mrs Mountfield. He had insulted her cooking and I invited her to deal with that. He has also had the tawse applied to his hands, as well as to his bottom and thighs. And on one occasion, exceptionally, I strapped the soles of his feet."

My father raised his eyebrows.

"Indeed, Miss Strang. The feet. And why was that?"

"Simon had on two separate occasions, disobeyed my instruction not to wander where he was forbidden. The feet that led him to trespass were tawsed to provide a salutary lesson."

"A lesson that I hope he has learned, Miss Strang."

"Well, I certainly share that hope, Mr Arbuthnot. But if the hope is disappointed, the lesson can easily be taught again."

Mr father nodded. At an early age my father had been loving and warm, but as I grew older he had become more distant. Yet I yearned for that lost closeness. Like a distant mountain peak, often surrounded by dark and threatening clouds, mysterious and alluring yet unapproachable. Sometimes the sense of loss was like an ache deep inside me. And I knew that his preference was for boys. But I still had a deep respect for my father, although I knew that I also feared him. He was a magistrate and was noted for his severity, particularly towards those juveniles brought before him. Once I had chanced to see him naked, and his body had exuded power and authority.

"And has the boy been birched, Miss Strang?"

"No, Mr Arbuthnot. He has that pleasure yet to come. Though he is under warning. The rod is ready and in pickle."

He made no reply other than nodding.

"And John? I see that he is subject to some sort of petticoat discipline."

"Yes, Mr Arbuthnot. He is."

"And may I be told the circumstances that justified that?"

"Certainly. To put it simply, Mr Arbuthnot, John lacks the fortitude and determination to accept punishment in a manly fashion. I expect a boy to writhe and roar under the rod, but I do not expect girlish tears and tantrums. I do not expect a boy to roll on the floor, crying and desperately pleading."

As she spoke my father frowned. His face dark and grim.

"I am appalled at what you tell me, Miss Strang. There are boys who are brave enough when the tide is flowing with them, but who whine and whimper when it turns against them. Such a boy must be cast into the swollen sea, and learn to brave the flood. Left to struggle desperately until he emerges choking and half-drowned, with brine in every pore and his body whipped to a lively red."

He paused.

"And so you have put him in a dress to remind him of his girlish behaviour. And that better is expected of him. Is that correct, Miss Strang?"

"Yes, Mr Arbuthnot. That is the intention."

He turned to his son.

"Well, my boy, I fully concur with what Miss Strang has done, and with whatever further steps she considers necessary. My advice to you, young man, is to learn from the discipline. In a few years, when you go away to school, there will be no place for a sissy who cannot take his punishment like a man."

John was burning with shame, the dress still pinned up, revealing his small limp penis and tight little scrotum.

"Turn round, boy."

There was a pause.

"Well, Miss Strang, the heavens may declare the glory of God, but this boy's bottom certainly declares the handiwork of his governess."

He turned to Miss Strang.

"I see that the boy has been recently birched. Only two or three days ago. Is that right, Miss Strang?"

"Yes, Mr Arbuthnot. John was soundly birched three days ago."

"And do I see strokes of the cane overlaying the birching?"

"You do, Mr Arbuthnot."

"And his thighs have also been whipped. With I think a leather tawse. Am I right?"

"Yes, Sir. You are. And his hands, too."

"And perhaps you would tell me the nature of the offences that called forth such discipline?"

"Certainly. The birching was to correct a slovenly, rude, lazy and disobedient disposition. The strokes of the cane were given for a very poor effort in a spelling test, largely a consequence of his indulging in self-pity and sulkiness after the birching."

"And the tawse?"

"I had occasion to tawse his thighs two days ago . . . . "
"

She paused.

" . . . for rude, deceitful and cowardly behaviour."

My father frowned.

"Well, Miss Strang, I can see that we have a job on our hands if this boy is to be shaped for manhood."

He looked disdainfully at his son.

"And is there anything else that I need to know, Miss Strang?"

"Yes, Mr Arbuthnot. John has discovered that vicious habit to which many boys succumb. His hands have been strapped. But I have other tried and trusted methods and I am employing those to, I believe, good effect."

My father nodded.

"And for what was the boy being punished when I entered?"

"Failure to attempt an exercise he had been set. And as he has again shown little fortitude under correction, I have told him that unless he takes the last four strokes with a better attitude than he has taken the others, then he will be dressed as a girl for the rest of the week. It was those strokes he was about to receive when you entered."

He nodded.

"And that leaves Livia. Who I see is dressed as a boy and whose hair has, if I am not mistaken, been cropped."

"Yes, Mr Arbuthnot."

"And may I enquire the reasons, Miss Strang?"

"Livia is an excellent and industrious scholar. However, on a number of occasions I have had to discipline her for being over forward. For taking on responsibilities that were not hers, and for acting in ways wholly inappropriate for a girl of her age."

She tightened her lips and frowned, before continuing.

That such disclosures should be made to my father in my presence and before my brothers was both shaming and demeaning. I felt my cheeks burning.

"Furthermore, on Mr Innes's suggestion, she is to serve as Mrs Innes's personal maid for several days later in the week to teach her humility and the value of service."

"But none of that explains why she is cropped and dressed as a boy."

"No, Mr Arbuthnot. It does not."

She paused. Carefully choosing her words.

"Livia has developed a very unhealthy obsession with her own body. A boyish obsession. Unacceptable in a boy and quite intolerable in a girl. She has even expressed the wish that she should be a boy."

I hung my head in confusion and shame.

"And you believe that dressing her as a boy is the best way of dealing with that?"

"Yes, Mr Arbuthnot. Livia has a fanciful notion of boyhood. The sooner she understands what it means to be a boy, the better."

My father narrowed his eyes.

"I am sure you are right, Miss Strang. She was always a tomboy and while acceptable in a younger girl, even attractive, at Livia's age it ceases to be so. But if I understand you, the issue is more than tomboyish behaviour. What you are speaking of is a flagrant overturning of the natural order. A sensuality scandalous in a girl. And a brazen refusal to accept her place as a woman in God's creation. Is that what you are saying?"

"Yes, Mr Arbuthnot."

He paused. And then addressed me.

"So, you told Miss Strang that you wanted to be a boy. Is that right."

"Yes, Father."

"In fact, Mr Arbuthnot, it was shameless defiance for I had required her to write the very opposite."

"Well, then, Miss Strang, the course is clear. You are set on the right path and must pursue it. If Livia has chosen to be a boy then she must quickly learn how a disobedient and defiant boy of her age is dealt with."

He frowned.

"I will speak to Innes about this. I doubt whether Mrs Innes would welcome a boy called Oliver serving as her personal maid. However, another possibility occurs to me. She might be admitted to the reformatory for a few days."

I felt a tightening constriction across my chest.

"There she will be subject to irksome restraint. Where no excuse is accepted. Where a boy may be flogged until his skin peels off."

He looked at me and breathed in deeply.

"There a boy's spirit is crushed and pulverised so that, God willing, it may rise from the dust of despair to a new and stronger life."

Miss Strang looked at me, too, but said nothing.

(To be continued)