Miss Strang Chapter 73
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 73
Mrs McLaughlan set the birch aside, resting it on a small table.
"And that, Cameron, is the sentence of the court duly carried out."
The boy was heaving and wracked by deep gulping sobs. She released the straps that held his feet, and then the restraint around his waist. Reaching under his chest she lifted him so that he could pull his arms free from the holes in the table. Slowly, he eased himself up.
"Off the table, Cameron. Quickly now. You will kneel over there facing the wall, just as you are, in your shirt. And keep your back straight and your hands by your sides."
Painfully he knelt.
"And now we have the boy Burns to deal with, Miss Innes. Perhaps you would fetch him.
She glanced at the boy Cameron.
"You were told you to keep your hands by your side, Cameron. And stop snivelling. We don't allow boys to snivel in this reformatory."
A few moments passed. And then the door opened and Rachel Innes returned, her hands on the shoulder of the boy Burns, propelling him into he room to stand before Mrs McLaughlan. He had a frightened and resentful look on his face.
"Stand up straight, Burns. And hands behind your back. You know why your are here? You heard the magistrate pass sentence on you? Can you remember what it was?"
"Yes, I'm to get the belt."
"Before we go any further, Burns, whenever you address me, and whatever you say, you will add the word, Ma'am. Not to do so is disrespectful and will lead to punishment. So let us try again. Can you remember the sentence of the court?"
"Yes . . . Ma'am."
"And the sentence was?"
"Thirty six stokes of the belt . . . Ma'am"
"Yes, Burns. Thirty six strokes of an extra heavy tawse. And where are those strokes to be administered? To what part of your person?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Across the bottom, Ma'am."
"Yes, Burns. Across your bare bottom. So take off your jacket and hand it to Miss Innes. And now drop your trousers and remove your underpants."
He did so. And stood shivering in his shirt tails. Mrs McLaughlan stepped across to the tall cupboard and, opening it, reached in and took out a tawse. It was split into two tails and could not have been much under two and a half feet in length. It was thick and dark and had the look of leather that has been well oiled and used.
"Here, Burns. Feel it."
She held it out and the tails drooped heavily before him. He reached out and almost with fascination grasped the tails between his hand. The boy had almost certainly been strapped across the hands in school, but not with a tawse such as this. He bit his lip.
"Well, Burns? What do you think? Will thirty six strokes with this belt across your bare backside cure you of your criminal ways?"
He knew the answer that was expected.
"Yes . . . Ma'am."
"But I'm told the magistrate regretted he couldn't sentence you to two dozen strokes on each of the two counts on which you were found guilty. A total of forty-eight strokes. But you have to face only thirty six strokes. Is that right?"
"Yes . . . Ma'am."
"Well, let me tell you, Burns, that I share the magistrate's misgivings. And as he also sentenced you to six months in this reformatory, there will be ample opportunity to see his wishes carried out."
She turned to Dr Gordon.
"You have examined the boy, doctor. I take it there is no medical reasons why he should not be flogged?"
"None at all, Mrs McLaughlan."
"Good. Then let us proceed."
She paused.
"Do you need to relieve yourself, Burns?
"N . . No . . Ma'am."
"Are you sure?"
"Ye . . yes . . Ma'am."
"Then take off your shirt. And your undervest."
For an older boy to be stripped of every items of clothing and to stand naked facing punishment is a sure way to render him compliant. He stood small and shivering.
"Stand by the table."
Mrs McLaughlan explained carefully how he was to be secured for his flogging.
"Do you understand?"
"Ye . . yes . . Ma'am."
"And you have no questions?"
"No . . Ma'am."
"Then, mount the table and kneel facing the head where the holes are."
He clambered up. The bolster was placed in front of him.
"And lie face down over the bolster and insert your arms into the top set of holes."
Mrs McLaughlan adjusted the bolster so that the boy's genitals were hanging just behind it. Then she and Miss Innes secured his feet just as Cameron's feet had been secured. However, the single strap that had been used across Cameron's waist was replaced by a double strap criss-crossed over the boy's lower back pressing him firmly down over the bolster.
Mrs McLaughlan rested the tawse across the boy's buttocks and then drew it slowly across the soft, sensitive skin of his bottom. He shivered and clenched the cheeks. Mrs McLaughlan waited. After a while, the buttocks relaxed.
"Miss Innes will count the strokes, Burns."
She waited, letting his apprehension mount. Then raising the tawse, she quietly rested it over her shoulder. I could hear the boy's breathing, nervous and rough. Then, with a flick of the wrist the tawse was tossed into the air. It paused for a moment balanced almost vertically, and then with a deep whoosh, descended with a dull smacking noise. I noticed how the heavy leather tails were forced slightly apart as they swished downward, imprinting a v-shaped mark on the boy's bottom flesh. It took a moment for the pain to course through his body before he gave a gasping howl of agony.
ONE
Mrs McLaughlan waited. I noticed how the surface of his bottom was twitching nervously as he anticipated the next stroke. Then, unhurriedly the tawse was raised, flicked up and back, and then descended with another frightening whoosh.
TWO
With a roar, the boy's head went back. He lifted his chest, writhing in torment. The table shook.
It was solidly built for its purpose was to hold a boy securely for the severest of chastisements. But it was also designed to increase a boy's mental agony. With his arms dangling freely through the holes cut into its surface, he could rear up, lift his torso off the table, thresh and twist, attempt to pull his arms free. But all to no avail.
The flogging continued. Stroke after remorseless stroke. His bottom was now a dark,
smarting red with marks of a deeper hue where the hard ends of the tawse had bitten into
his soft flesh. He was roaring profusely.
Now eight strokes had been imprinted on his flesh. Less than a quarter of what he must
suffer. I shivered. A prisoner in the condemned cell may hope for a last minute
reprieve. But not here secured to the table.
And although for an observer each stroke was one cut nearer the end of the boy's torment, I knew that for him the flow of time had altogether ceased. His tormentress might count away each cut. But the boy was imprisoned in an eternity of endless suffering. For him there was only the ever tormenting present.
I felt the little snake's tongue flickering between my legs.
The tawse was again raised and brought down across the boy's quivering flesh. He was hoarse from screaming, and yet each cut forced out a further squealing howl of agony. His arms twisted helplessly beneath the table. Never had I seen such severity meted out to a boy. After eighteen strokes, Mrs McLaughlan stepped back and rested the tawse over a chair.
"Well, Burns, we'll let you recover a little before proceeding further. I suggest you rest quietly. Do you want a drink?"
He was sobbing, as no boy of fourteen ought to sob. Speaking seemed almost too difficult.
"Ye . . yes . . please, yes."
"And what did I tell you to add when addressing me, Burns?"
There was a long pause.
"Ma'am. Please, Miss."
"So you want a drink?"
"Yes, yes please . . . Ma'am."
She went to a sink in the far corner of the room and filled a cup.
"Head back, Burns."
The effort seemed almost too much for him, but he was desperate to quench his thirst. He strained upward and tilted his head back. Mrs McLaughlan held the cup to his lips and he drank. Slowly at first and then feeling the cold delicious water on his lips and tongue, more greedily. Some ran down his chin and dribbled on the table.
"More, Burns?"
"Yes . . please, Ma'am."
She refilled the cup. When he had finished she returned it to a rack over the small sink. Then, taking a bowl she filled it with water and picked up a cloth. She caught my eye.
"I hope you're not thinking we're being too kind to the boy, Livia. This flogging is being done for his benefit. We want him alert and receptive."
She looked at Miss Strang.
"Is it in order for Livia to assist me?"
"Certainly, if that is your wish, Mrs McLaughlan."
She beckoned to me.
"Come here, Livia. You may sponge the boy's bottom. After eighteen strokes with a solid tawse like this it needs livening up."
She placed the bowl on a table and handed me the cloth.
"Soak it well. Load the cloth with plenty of water. And don't worry if the table gets wet. It'll do no harm. And now wipe the boy's bottom."
Now I was close, I could see how raw and inflamed it was. In several places where the hard tips of the tawse had dug into the skin, there was blood. Gently I sponged first one buttock and then the other, rinsing the cloth out each time. The boy squirmed and gasped.
"And wipe between the cheeks, Livia."
As I did so, I remembered how I had driven the nettle stem into John. I placed a finger inside the cloth and finding the boy's anus, wriggled my finger into the opening.
"And now a very wet cloth, Livia. And squeeze it over his bottom and leave it really wet. And do the same for the thighs. And now return the bowl to the sink and empty it."
I noticed that the water was very faintly red. I ran the cloth under the tap and, wringing it out, hung it over the side of the sink.
"Thank you, Livia."
I felt my face flaming at the intimate contact with the boy for whom I felt a strange attraction.
"And now, Miss Innes, would you like to continue with the boy's punishment. She handed her the tawse.
(To be continued)