Miss Strang Chapter 72
By Governess
Copyright 2010 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 72
I glanced at Miss Strang. She smiled at me.
"In view of Livia's interest, Mrs McLaughlan, perhaps you would explain a little more about what is to happen."
"Certainly, Miss Strang."
She replaced the `nursery birch' in the pail.
"Come across here, Livia."
She rested her hand on the table.
"This is a birching table, Livia. It's specially made so that boys may be secured safely when they are flogged. The boy Cameron will go across it. As will the boy Burns."
I examined the table closely. It was about two and a half feet across. And there were three pairs of holes at one end, one above the other. As each pair of holes moved further away from the head of the table, the distance between them narrowed. There were several rings set into the side of the table. And at the other end, set about six inches in from its edge were two straps, each with buckles.
"What are the holes for Mrs McLaughlan?"
"Those are where the boy's arms go. He lies on the table and depending on his size he inserts his arms through one of the sets of holes. Then at the other end . . . "
She broke off. For the boy, Cameron was led in accompanied by a woman whom I immediately recognised as Rachel Innes. With her was an older man. Mrs McLaughlan looked at the clock.
"I am afraid my explanations to the children must be cut short, Miss Strang. But I am sure that what Livia and the children are now to witness will be readily understandable without further words from me. This is Miss Innes who is assisting me today and will help with the punishment of the two boys."
Miss Strang smiled.
"How do you do, Miss Innes. It seems we are fated always to meet at some child's Golgotha. Livia you know. These are her brothers, John and Simon."
Miss Innes gave a faint smile. I felt myself blushing as I recalled my flogging in the library.
"And this is Dr Gordon. Whenever a boy is flogged by sentence of the court a qualified doctor must be present throughout. I am pleased to say that when it comes to reformatory floggings, no such attendance is required.
She gave a little laugh.
"Which is just as well or Dr Gordon's patients would be seeing very little of him."
She paused and her voice took on a more serious tone.
"And now with the introductions over, we can proceed to deal with this boy. I take it, Dr Gordon, he's fit to receive the punishment ordered by the court?"
"Yes, Mrs McLaughlan. Perfectly fit."
She turned to the boy who was pale and visibly shaking.
"Right Cameron. You will answer to your surname, and you will address me as Ma'am. And you will not speak unless invited to do so. Do you understand?"
"Ye . . . yes . . . Ma'am."
His voice was a little boy's voice, trembling and fearful.
"And if asked a question you will respond immediately."
He hung his head.
"And boys, here, do not hang their heads when spoken to, Cameron. Look at me."
She waited, allowing him to savour his predicament.
"You have been found guilty, Cameron, of criminal damage, attempted arson and theft. As a consequence you have been sentenced to twelve strokes of the birch rod. The cuts will be administered across your bare bottom. And as little boys find it very difficult to keep still when being birched, you will be fastened down across this table."
She paused.
"Take off your shoes and socks, and place them under the chair."
She watched as he did so, saying nothing.
"And off with your jacket. Hand it to Miss Innes. And now slip off your braces and lower your trousers."
I watched intently as Miss Innes helped him out of them.
"Fold them and place them on the seat of the chair, please.
"And now, let us have those underpants down. And step out of them. I want them off completely. And place them with your trousers on the chair."
The boy stood there, naked from the waist down, his bottom largely hidden by the tail of his shirt. His eyes were bright and he looked on the verge of tears.
"Before you go across the table, Cameron, you had better relieve yourself. I'm sure you've no wish to disgrace yourself during your punishment."
She pointed to a chamber pot. He was burning with shame now and deeply anxious.
"No, boy, not like that. We don't want it all over the floor."
She stepped across and picked up the pot and placed it on a low stool.
"Stand behind the stool. And now relieve yourself."
Like any boy who was the focus of such attention, he found it difficult to start. After a while, he looked up.
"P . . pl . . . please, Ma'am, please, I . . I can't go."
"Nonsense, of course you can. You're not trying."
A long minute ticked by. Mrs McLaughlan stepped across and placed her finger gently under his small limp penis and wriggled it.
"Come on, Cameron, we're waiting."
"But I . . . I can't . . . Ma'am."
Then you must try harder."
He shut his eyes and concentrated. And then after another half minute, there was a tinkling sound as he urinated into the pot.
"Put it on the floor, and come over here."
He walked across to the table and stood there, his face flushed and apprehensive.
"On to the table, Cameron."
With Miss Innes's help he clambered up.
“And I want you to kneel on all fours. No. Facing the other way. Head towards the end with the holes. Good. And don’t slump.”
She walked across to the cupboard and took out a short bolster about two feet in length, together with a white towel. Then, quickly wrapping the bolster in the towel, she placed it underneath the kneeling boy.
I glanced at Miss Strang who was watching intently.
"And now, Cameron, you are going to insert your hands into the nearest set of holes and let your arms drop."
With Mrs McLaughlan on one side and Miss Innes on the other, they carefully lowered him. His arms slid through. Immediately, Mrs McLaughlan adjusted the bolster so that it was under his stomach, and just above his genitals. Then, she quickly pulled his feet apart, and buckled two straps around his ankles. Finally, she rucked his shirt well up his back.
"So, there we have one small boy firmly secured for punishment."
She smiled. And looked at me.
"Have you any questions, Livia?"
"Don't his hands have to be tied, too, Mrs McLaughlan?"
"No, Livia. The only way he could free his arms would be if he could push down with his hands. But there's nothing to push against. But to make sure he doesn't lift his body up we secure him with a strap around his waist."
Miss Innes went to the cupboard and took out a coiled length of strap. She let it drop out. It was long and looked to be about an inch in width. At one end was a buckle. On either side of the table were a series of rings set into its edge. I watched as Miss Innes dropped the strap through a ring just above the level of the bolster, and ran it under the table. Mrs McLaughlan caught it and threaded it upward through a ring on her side. The strap was then pulled tight and buckled over the boy's body.
"So Livia, he may now struggle as much as he likes. And thresh his arms around as much as he likes. But there is no way he can escape the punishment that is meted out to him."
The boy lay completely still. I wondered what agony of mind he was going through, waiting for the birching to begin. I could scarcely breathe. It was as though a tight band was around my chest. I looked at him secured on the table. His small buttocks, firm and round, raised into prominence by the bolster beneath him. My mouth was dry.
Mrs McLaughlan again took the birch from the pail in which it was steeping. She smiled.
"Are you wondering what it would be like to birch a boy like this, Livia?"
Her words stirred a seething cauldron of hot swirling emotion within me. I looked at the boy, helpless and secured to the table for his flogging.
"Well, are you wondering, Livia?"
" Ye . . . yes, Mrs McLaughlan."
She offered me the birch.
"Take it, Livia."
I took it and gripped it in my right hand. And as I did so I glanced at Miss Strang, who gave me an encouraging nod.
Mrs McLaughlan placed her hand around mine and then, lifting it, rested the birch across the boy's buttocks. With a shake she made it jump up and then spring back. He gave a little gasp, but there was no power in the stroke. She did it again, this time with a little more force.
"You see how flexible the birch is, Livia. No great strength is needed to provide a truly salutary punishment. You saw the movement of my wrist. How at the last moment I sent a shake through the birch so that it sprung forward."
She did it again.
"But if we swish the birch right up like this, bending the wrist in the upward direction, and then, as it is swished down, move the wrist sharply forward as if we were shaking water off the birch, it will smart and score the bare flesh as it is meant to."
The boy gave a scream as the birch cut into his bottom. She smiled.
"Try some more of those little jumping strokes just above his bottom, Livia."
I did so. I was breathing quickly now, and my face was hot.
"Well, Cameron, are you ready for the birching the court has ordered for your crimes?"
In a small, strangled, reluctant voice he acknowledged his readiness for the grim proceeding to commence.
"Ye . . yes . . . Ma'am."
She turned to me and held out her hand.
"I'm afraid, Livia, that I have to administer the flogging to the boy. But perhaps when you're a little bit older, your governess will allow you to assist in the tutoring of your younger brother."
She indicated that I should return and sit with Miss Strang. I watched as Mrs McLaughlan unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse and rolled up her sleeves. She gave the birch a vigorous swish through the air. The boy shut his eyes and tensed himself.
"Miss Innes will count the strokes as they are given."
She raised the birch and brought it swishing down across the boy's small buttocks. Although I had myself handled it, I was still amazed at how flexible it was. He wriggled and gave a gasping howl. His bottom flushed under the stroke. Miss Innes voice was clear, almost bell like.
Mrs McLaughlan waited until he had stopped wriggling and then swished a second stroke across his soft, round little bottom. This time he tried desperately to pull himself upward, and succeeded in raising his chest a little off the table. But with his hands dangling helplessly through the holes and with nothing to push against, he was powerless to do anything but submit to the punishment.
I glanced at Miss Strang. She had a look that was strangely approving and disapproving: assenting wholeheartedly to the flogging but censuring the conduct that had brought it about.
Another stroke was given.
And then after a long pause, another.
I remembered how Miss Strang had explained that the first few strokes of a birching caused irritation rather than pain. But by this fourth stroke, the boy began to howl and scream. And I felt a little crawling sensation in my stomach.
I was breathless now, breathless with the sheer sensual pleasure of seeing the boy's small, round buttocks quiver and contract as the birch cut into the soft flesh.
Again he arched his body upward.
In between my legs I felt the little snake wriggling in his den. He was hissing with delight as the lithe twigs wrapped around the boy's bottom and cut into the tender flesh of his right flank.
And then after a pause.
I could feel myself shivering, or rather tingling, with an excitement that I could barely control. The saliva was thick in my throat.
The boy strained upward, lifting his head back in a shrill scream of agony.
I didn't want the last stroke to be given. There was a lust in me for the torture to continue. The birch swept back and cut across the small buttocks already criss-crossed with many thin red streaks of agony.
And then I remembered Mrs McLaughlan's words. That once the sentence of the court has been administered, the balance of eighteen strokes might be given as a reformatory flogging. And with a more appropriate birch.
(To be continued)