Miss Strang Chapter 66

Miss Strang Chapter 66
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 66

As I slipped down the corridor I was grateful that it was late and no one would see my nakedness. I picked up the scrubbing brush that had been place prominently on my small dressing table. It was a new brush and unused. I ran my hand across the stiff bristles, and there was a little trembling sensation deep in my diaphragm.

When I returned to the schoolroom I handed the brush to Miss Strang. She, too, ran her hand over the bristles. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was not as late as I had supposed.

"Livia, please run down to the kitchen, and ask Mrs Mountfield to bring up a large washing bowl of very hot and very salty water. And no need to wait for her. Come back immediately. She will follow with the bowl when she is ready.

"But Miss Strang I have nothing on."

"I know Livia. I am not without the blessing of eyesight. But a girl who clambers naked into her brother's bed can hardly expect to be spared a little embarrassment on that account."

As I approached the kitchen, I could hear Mrs Mountfield's clattering some dishes and humming to herself. I listened at the door but she was alone. I felt a rush of gratitude that Mary had obviously gone to her room in the attic. I knocked.

"Why it's Master Oliver. And without any clothes. And what brings you naked to my kitchen?"

"M . . Miss Strang sent me."

"Did she now. But isn't it way past your bedtime?"

"Yes, Mrs Mountfield. But I . . I had a bad dream. Miss Strang asked me to ask you to bring up a . . a large washing bowl of very hot and very salty water."

"And what would she be wanting with that?"

"I . . I am not sure . . Mrs Mountfield."

"Now I do seem to recall her saying something about a well scrubbed bottom. And hot salty water. Don't you, Oliver?"

I reddened.

"Scrubbed raw, I think she said."

I felt the hot anger seething inside me, but anger that I knew I had to contain. I said nothing. I could feel her eyes on my nakedness and, as I turned, on my bottom.

While I had been gone, Miss Strang had fetched several large towels that she had placed on the table. I saw that the long stool and the upright chair had been placed very much in the same position as for the caning I had received.

"Stand over there, Livia. And put your hands behind your back."

As I stood in my nakedness with my hands behind me, I felt very conscious of exposing the little girl's slit between my legs. All my instinct was to cover myself, and knowing it was forbidden made my discomfiture all the worse.

I watched as the preparations continued. Miss Strang placed a small table to the right of the chair. And then picked up a large towel from the table and shaking it out laid it over the length of the stool. And then overlaid it with another. All the towels were white and although thick were quite hard and scratchy. A good towelling after a bath always left one red and tingling. There were several more towels on the table and beside them the scrubbing brush.

"Well, Livia, all we want now is Mrs Mountfield with that hot salty water."

Miss Strang went to her desk and busied herself with something. I could hear the clock ticking, and a breeze rattled the window. Several minutes must have past before Mrs Mountfield pushed open the door which had been left ajar and entered with a large steaming bowl.

"Place the bowl on the small table, please, Mrs Mountfield."

She looked at me.

"You do know why this is necessary, Livia? Why we are having to resort to the scrubbing brush."

"No, Miss Strang. I don't. I was trying to comfort John. Please. I shouldn't be punished for that."

"Really, Livia? That is your considered view is it? I must say I am surprised."

She waited. But I said no more. There was nothing more to say.

"Then perhaps I had better explain. I do not want you to feel hard done by or unfairly treated."

She paused.

"When you went into your brother's room, was he awake or asleep? And I want honest answers, Livia. Or it will be the worse for you.

"He was asleep, Miss Strang. But he quickly woke up."

"Did he? And was there any sign that he was upset or needed comforting in any way. Well?"

"N . . . no. Not really."

"You mean not at all, Livia. Is that right?"

I hung my head. I had scarcely breath enough to answer her.

"I suppose so, Miss Strang."

"And being reassured on that count, you could have returned to your own room?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"But you chose not to. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"So why did you get into bed with him?"

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

"Well I am Livia. I am in no doubt why your got into bed with him. You slithered your little bottom between his sheets for one purpose and one purpose only. To masturbate him, and encourage him to masturbate you. To wallow in the sensual pleasure of wriggling against him, stroking his immature little penis and feeling it stiffen under you attention."

She paused.

"Well? Am I right?"

I felt the tears pricking at my eyes.

"And how stiff in your hand did his little penis become, Livia?"

"Not very stiff, Miss Strang."

"And was there any seminal emission?"

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

"Well let me put it another way. As you masturbated him, did he writhe and wriggle and show every sign that he was enjoying the forbidden pleasure?"

"Yes, Miss Strang"

"And he became more and more excited, wriggling and groaning until with a final burst of pleasure he stopped?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And at that point did any juice shoot out of his little penis? Or even ooze out? Was there any dampness?"

"No, Miss Strang."

Part of me hoped that this would mean that my sin was the less serious and less deserving of punishment. A child struggling in the deep treacherous waters of a governess's disapproval will clutch at any straw.

"So, in summary, you slipped out of your warm bed, made your way to your brother's room and tempted this immature, not yet ten year old boy, into sin. Is that right?"

"Yes, Miss Strang. I am sorry. Please forgive me."

"And then, showing not the slightest remorse, you forced him to do the same to you. Is that right"

"I wanted him to touch me, Yes, Miss Strang."

"But he was reluctant. No doubt drowsy and wallowing in the warm sticky mire of sin. And then you started to masturbate yourself. In his bed and with him beside you. And then I came in."

She paused.

"And you show no appreciation of the gravity of your sin. You simply offer some flimsy excuse about comforting him, when clearly no comfort was needed. And you beg for forgiveness."

She waited. But I said nothing.

"Well, Livia, the time for forgiveness will come. Have no fear. Forgiveness will not be withheld. But not until your bottom has been scrubbed raw, and there is evidence of a contrite spirit."

"Please, Miss Strang. Please. No."

A cold tremor of fear ran through me. I looked at Mrs Mountfield but only saw in her eyes an eagerness. A small greedy look.

"Livia sit across the stool, with your back to the chair. No. Straddle the stool with a leg either side. Now shuffle up close to the chair. That is right. Good."

She turned to Mrs Mountfield.

"Mrs Mountfield, I expect you have scrubbed many a floor in your time. Is that right?"

"It certainly is Miss Strang. I've scrubbed more floors than I care to think of. If I had a farthing for every time I'd scrubbed a floor, I'd be a very rich woman."

"But I take it that you have not scrubbed a naughty child's bottom."

"No, I have not done that Miss Strang."

"Well that is what I would like you to do under my supervision."

"If that is what you want me to do, Miss Strang, I am more than happy to oblige."

"Good. Then perhaps you would sit on the chair. And Livia please lie forward on the stool. That is right. Face down. And now Mrs Mountfield perhaps you would take hold of Livia's legs and pull her sharply toward you. So her legs are splayed either side of you and her bottom is right in the centre of your lap. That is excellent."

I was lying face down with my body hard against the stool and I was acutely aware that with my legs parted and hanging either side of Mrs Mountfield's lap I was shamefully exposed. I was also trembling with anxiety at what was to follow.

"And here is the scrubbing brush, Mrs Mountfield. With its nice stiff bristles. And Livia, I suggest you submit to the scrubbing or I will have to fasten you to the legs of the chair.

"And how much scrubbing does the child need, Miss Strang?"

"This child has chosen to place her bottom in her brother's bed and has enticed him into sin. Regard her bottom as stained with that sin, deep black stains that need to be scrubbed away. And remember, Mrs Mountfield, her bottom is soft and yielding. Long broad hard strokes of the brush to counter the springiness of the bottom flesh. And continue until I tell you to stop."

I cannot think of a more demeaning position than that in which I had been placed. With my legs splayed apart, so that my bottom was tilted forward, the soft full cheeks centrally positioned on Mrs Mountfield's lap, and with the little wrinkled opening of my anus exposed to her view. I had seen Mrs Mountfield spank Simon and I knew that she would have no qualms about scrubbing my bottom with vigour and determination.

"And you see the marks on Livia's bottom, Mrs Mountfield, marks of shame inflicted earlier today because of her sinful inattention. I suggest that your aim should be to scrub those away. Just as you would scrub away the stains on a wooden floor.

"Yes, Miss Strang. A through scrubbing"

"Exactly, Mrs Mountfield. A through scrubbing."

I felt the brush pressed against my right bottom cheek and then the harsh stiff bristles were scrubbed again and again across its surface, long strokes that forced the resilient flesh into a tautness so that the bristles met no resistance. Every so often she would dip the brush into the hot salty water. The sensation was different from a flogging, and less immediately painful. But as the vigorous scrubbing continued a terrible soreness began to build up, a raw discomfort that steadily worsened until I thought my skin had been so rubbed and blistered away, that my whole bottom cheek was one large damp red sticky layer of abraded flesh. I was screaming now. And writhing. Kicking my legs.

And then I felt my right leg being forced against the chair on which Mrs Mountfield was seated and a length of rough string being wound around both. And then my left leg was similarly restrained.

"Please continue, Mrs Mountfield."

"No, no. Please, Miss Strang. No, no, no . . . aaaaaaaagh."

At last I heard Miss Strang tell Mrs Mountfield that my bottom had been scrubbed enough. I was choking in my agony and banging my head against the stool. Then, I felt the restraints around my ankles being untied. And I was pulled forward so that my legs now hung over the stool's edge, my knees almost touching the floor. I heard the chair scrape as Mrs Mountfield got up. Strangely, despite my agony and despair, I was aware of her brushing the front of her dress with her hand, knocking out the creases.

"Get up, Livia."

Stiffly, I rose.

"And you will now thank Mrs Mountfield for what she has done."

I heard a small weak voice that I hardly recognised as my own.

"Th . . th . . thank you, Mrs Mountfield."

"Well, I hope you learn from it, Miss Livia, and behave yourself in future."

She turned to Miss Strang.

"I'll take the bowl and the scrubbing brush back to the kitchen if that's all right, Miss Strang."

"Thank you Mrs Mountfield. But I would be grateful if you would rinse the bowl and refill it with hot salty water."

"Certainly, Miss Strang. And will that be all?"

"Yes, Mrs Mountfield. Thank you."

(To be continued)