Miss Strang Chapter 65

Miss Strang Chapter 65
By Governess

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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 65

Miss Strang stood and looked at the struggling boy. I remembered how the suppository had burnt my insides until my bowels turned to liquid fire. I watched with horror as he threshed and twisted in his bondage. He wrenched his head around and his mouth hung open. He was making a strange gurgling sound. But then with an effort he managed a few words that he hoped would prevail with his governess. Words of desperate pleading.

"Aaaagh . . . please . . . no . . . Aaaaaaagh."

Did he think his governess was heeding him when she gently rubbed his head, and then reached over the bed to take his hands in hers? Did he believe that she was about to release him from his bonds: to comfort and forgive him? If so, the slender juvenile hope was dashed upon the rocks of Miss Strang's determination.

She spoke in a soft but clear voice.

"I am sure you are suffering, John. Believe me, I can understand your pleading for release. All the boys I have had to punish in this way have always begged and pleaded for remission. Even though they were almost incoherent with the pain, still they managed to stutter out their desperate promises. Promises of improbable chastity. Promises of eternal obedience to my word."

She paused, a little frown on her smooth brow.

"Some boys I had to curb with a cloth thrust into their mouth so penetrating and ear-splitting were their screams."

She was stroking his head now, ruffling his hair in a gentle consoling way. But the consolation she brought was but the consolation of purgatory. Suffering given out of love to reform the sinner and to set him on the path to heavenly purity.

"John, I am sorry you are suffering. But I love you too much to allow you to indulge your sensual cravings. The sooner a small boy learns to master his sinful impulses and to submit to the will of his governess the better. But those impulses are strong and demanding. A boy needs loving support to overcome them. Not the support of sentimental understanding that permits such indulgence, but the support of a strict, unyielding regime that drives him down the narrow way and through the strait gate that leads to life."

He was gobbling in his agony, contorting his body, and tearing at his hands. He may not have understood her words, but he understood the sentence that had been passed upon him. That no remission was to be forthcoming.

"Come Oliver, let us leave John to learn from his sufferings."

With her hand she propelled me through the door and then closed it. As we walked up the corridor I could hear John's muffled screams.

"And now, Oliver, please go to the schoolroom. I will be with you in a moment."

I waited for her, filled with anxiety at what my fate might be. Would she subject me to the same discipline as John. There was an icy flame flickering in my chest. I shivered. Instinctively, I reached round and felt my soft bottom under my nightshirt. Then I heard Miss Strang approaching and quickly let the nightshirt drop. I clenched my hands together before me.

"Well, Oliver, what have you to say for yourself?

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

"Are you Oliver? And what are you sorry for?"

"For . . for what I have done . . with John. I meant to comfort him. I'd had such a dreadful dream about him."

"Take off your nightshirt. Fold it and place it on your desk."

I stood there naked. The late evening air was cold on my skin, and I could feel the goose pimples on my thighs. She looked at me. Moments passed. I bit my lip and looked down.

"Tell me Livia, do you still want to be a boy?"

I was startled by the question. It was unexpected. And so strange to hear my name on her lips again.

"N . . no . . . Miss Strang. I don't."

I began to cry. She stepped forward and put her arm around me. Saying nothing. Just holding me to her. My whole body was racked with sobbing.

"Hush . . . Stop crying."

She produced a small handkerchief and wiped my tears.

"Go and sit in the armchair."

Looking back over the years, I can see that small naked girl with her legs drawn up, seated with her governess wearing a white full sleeved blouse and a long black skirt. The contrast between the pale naked girl and the correct, even severe, dress of the governess is startling. I see it in the strange way the memory has of rendering our recollections visible to us as though we were somehow outside them, observing them.

"You know that your father is very distressed at your self-indulgence?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And at your unnatural wish to be a boy."

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"He wants to send you to the boys' reformatory for a few days to break your resolve."

"Yes, Miss Strang."

She paused.

"You have wilfully and unnaturally expressed a wish to be a boy. You indulge yourself like a boy. Well, I have chosen to dress you as a boy and treat you as a boy to help you understand of what a boy's life consists. But perhaps your father is right and the full understanding of that will only come if you are thrust into the rough, coarse, sweaty world of other boys. To experience their cruelty and insensitivity. Their delight in picking on the weak. Of tormenting those who do not conform."

She still had her arm around me.

"And do you think you would conform, Livia? Or would you stand out as somehow different from those other boys? Well?"

"I . . I think I would stand out as different, Miss Strang."

"I am sure you would, Livia. Attracting their tormenting attention."

The threat of the reformatory had been a distant one. Now it was becoming very real and threatening.

"Please, Miss Strang. Don't send me there. I don't want to be a boy."

"Then why did you say you did?"

"I . . . don't know, Miss Strang. I was angry that you didn't seem to understand. That I wanted to . . . to masturbate like a boy. . . even . . . even though I don't . . . don't have a boy's . . . thing."

I am well aware of you sinful sensuality, Livia. Did I not forbid you to indulge yourself like a schoolboy?"

I hung my head.

"Yes, Miss Strang. But . . but I still wanted to do it."

"I am sure you did, Livia. We are sinners and sin is attractive and enticing. It is easy to sin. It requires effort and determination to do what is right. Is that not so?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And children have so little inclination to live in purity and obedience to His word, that God has decreed that their sins must be punished. So if they do not at first love righteousness, then at least they may pursue it out of fear of punishment."

She paused.

"And you sinned, Livia. Grievously sinned. Not only did you harbour impure thoughts that led to impure deeds, but you enticed your brother to sin as well."

Her arm was still around me, warm on my bare flesh.

"Do you remember what Eve did in the Garden of Eden, Livia?"

"Ye . . yes, Miss Strang."

"What did she do?"

"She ate the forbidden fruit and then she gave it to Adam to eat."

"Yes and then what did Adam do?"

"I . . I can't remember . . Miss Strang."

"Adam blamed her. He blamed Eve for giving him the fruit to eat. Although he knew it was forbidden. He was weak and foolish. He was led by a woman into sin."

She paused.

"But he was right to blame her. Her enticement was no excuse for his sinning, but she did lead him into sin. And as a consequence the whole of the human race fell and it needed God to send His Son into the world to save it from the curse of sin."

She removed her arm, and I felt the cold air where the warmth of her hand had been.

"Well, John is being punished. Listen!"

Faintly, through the schoolroom door, I could hear his screams of agony.

"And do you not think that the one who enticed him, who led him into sin, deserves the greater punishment?"

My heart was racing now. A cold clammy fear was upon me.

"Please, Miss Strang. No. Please don't punish me like that. Please. No."

"And why not, Livia? Give me one good reason why you should not be punished as John is punished. Perhaps punished even more severely."

"B . . but, Miss Strang, please. I'm a girl."

She smiled.

"Well, I am sure it is very convenient for you to be a girl now, Livia. But you chose to be a boy."

She smiled.

"But I am pleased you are at last beginning to realise that there is more to being a boy than short hair and the wearing of breeches. However . . . "

She was frowning now and her lips were tight.

". . . are you really convinced about it, Livia? Perhaps this desire to be a boy is still smouldering within you. Perhaps more needs to be done? Perhaps your father is right? Perhaps a few days subject to boys' reformatory discipline would be beneficial?"

"Please, no, Miss Strang. No."

"Well, Livia, no decision need be made tonight. But there is something that needs to be done tonight is there not?"

"Please, Miss Strang. I was trying to comfort him. I'm sorry. Truly I am."

"Yet you knew that I had forbidden John to indulge in the delights of masturbation. Did it not occur to you that what you were doing was against my wishes? That it was forbidden?"

I could not deny it.

"Yes, Miss Strang. But . . . but I thought it would be all right to comfort him."

"Really?"

She paused. Her face was pale but with two spots of colour on each cheek.

"If I had forbidden John to eat chocolates, would you comfort him by giving him one?"

"No, Miss Strang."

"And yet you deliberately went to his room with your box of sensual sweetmeats and offered him one."

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And after having comforted your brother by touching and stroking him until he was writhing with forbidden pleasure, what did you do?"

"I . . I don't understand, Miss Strang?"

"Well, let me put it more directly. After masturbating your brother, did you take his hand, and guide it between your legs and make him masturbate you. Masturbate you as I masturbated you yesterday night. Well did you?"

I felt as a butterfly must feel when taken from the bottle, and still half alive, is transfixed with a pin on to the board.

"I . . I . . "

"Yes, Livia?"

" . . . No, Miss Strang. I didn't?"

"Than why do your hands and John's hands smell as they do?"

"Please, Miss Strang, I did make him touch me. But he didn't want to do it. And . . and he stopped."

"How very disappointing for you, Livia. And did you continue yourself?"

I was hot and sticky with shame at this remorseless questioning.

"No, Miss Strang. That's when you came in."

"And if I had not come in?"

"Then . . . then, I . . I may have done . . . Miss Strang."

"So the intention was there. Even thought you had not asked my permission. Is that correct?"

I hung my head, blinking back my tears.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And do you remember what I said would be the result if the caning I gave you yesterday did not result in a humble and submissive spirit?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"I am pleased. Go and fetch the scrubbing brush from your room."

AS I opened the door, I felt the cold air of the corridor on my skin.

(To be continued)