Miss Strang Chapter 88

By Governess

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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Chapter 88

I stood in my new dress. Now the flogging was over, I felt even more exposed than I had bare and secured over the table. I found it difficult to believe that any who saw me could fail to recognise that I had suffered the ignominy of a reformatory birching. Beneath my clothing my flesh was hot and throbbing. I stood with my head hung, biting my lip, and listening as Mrs McLaughlan addressed my brothers.

“You two boys come out here.”

She spoke with a tone that demanded instant obedience.

“Boys here are addressed by their surnames. In public schools boys of the same surname are distinguished by the addition to their name of Major and Minor. Those are the Latin words for older and younger. It is the Principal’s wish that we should adopt the same usage here. So you, John, will answer to Arbuthnot Major, and you, Simon, to Arbuthnot Minor. And I strongly recommend you remember that. Boys who don’t immediately answer to their name receive an entry in their book and will be visiting me at the end of the day.”

She paused.

“And what, Arbuthnot Major, will that mean?”

“A . . . a spanking . . . Mrs McLaughlan.”

“Yes. A spanking, at the very least. With my hairbrush across a completely bare bottom. But from now on you will address me as Matron and not as Mrs McLaughlan. Is that understood.”

Both boys nodded.

“Yes . . . Matron.”

“Good. Now I will call Susan and she’ll bring your reformatory clothing. After that you will be escorted to separate rooms and be issued with a copy of the rules for you to learn. And which if you fail to keep will lead to entries in your punishment book.”

When Susan arrived, Mrs McLaughlan instructed both boys to strip. They stood bare and shivering both deeply shamed at being naked before a strange young girl.

“As this is the first time you will be wearing reformatory clothing, Susan will dress you.”

She turned to Miss Strang.

“This is very much a rite de passage, Miss Strang. Once a boy dons this maroon shirt and jacket, and is wearing those trousers with the stripes down the side, he is subject to all the rules and requirements of the reformatory.”

I watched as Susan dressed the boys. She must have been about sixteen and I could see she was enjoying the task. She ran her hand over their bottoms as she pulled up their underpants and then reached inside to straighten them. I could see she relished their discomfiture. I wondered if she was ever allowed to watch boys being punished.

“I am intrigued by the stripes down the sides of the trousers, Mrs McLaughlan.”

“Yes, Miss Strang. If a boy absconds the sooner he is brought back the better. The stripes identify him as a reformatory boy, and the mark is placed there because if a boy does abscond he usually chooses to do so with his breeches on.”

She smiled.

“A small boy running around the countryside in his underpants would draw even more attention to himself. If a boy knows he is readily identifiable he is less likely to abscond.”

She paused.

“But we still have one or two absconders a year. They are always caught and always bitterly regret it. I think I mentioned that boys who abscond receive a double flogging. All the boys are assembled in the hall and the offending boy has his lower garments removed and is hoisted over a small vaulting horse brought from the gymnasium. He’s perched over one end and his body bent forward along its length. His arms are pulled down and his wrists tied together under the horse. As you can imagine, Miss Strang, the sight of a boy being flogged like that is a powerful deterrent to other boys who might be thinking of absconding.”

“And a double flogging is forty eight strokes of the birch?”

“Yes, Miss Strang. Forty eight strokes with the heavy birch.”

When both boys were dressed, Mrs McLaughlan stepped across to a cupboard.

“These are the books into which any misdemeanours will be entered. And they are to be kept in your jacket pocket. As I’ve already explained, if you can’t produce your book when asked, you will be in serious trouble. And when I say produce it, I mean take it from your jacket pocket. Promises of fetching it from a dormitory or a desk are unacceptable. So, please remember that.”

I watched as the two boys were taken off by Susan. It was some time before I saw them again. Each glanced at me as they departed. And each had a look of hopeless despair on his face.

“And now Miss Strang, I suggest we move to my office and have a mid-morning beverage before you depart with Livia to the Innes’s. I understand they are expecting you well before luncheon.”

She glanced at the clock.

“At this time there will be boys moving between lessons. So you, Livia, will please walk with your eyes cast down.”

She smiled.

“A demure spirit will also stand you in good stead in your new position. Pertness and forwardness are certainly not welcome in Mrs Innes’s household.”

Despite the injunction to lower my gaze, I couldn’t resist glancing at the boys we encountered as they were marched in small groups through the corridors. They all wore the same maroon uniform with the distinctive breeches. And they all had the look of boys whose inner spirit was confined. Yet a spirit that peered through the bars of its captivity with a smouldering look of resentment and defiance. I guessed that from time to time that spirit would erupt, like molten magma within the earth, gushing forth from a fumarole. But unlike its natural counterpart on the slopes of Etna or Stromboli, a boy’s spirit would be quenchable. He would be whipped and placed in solitary confinement until the volcanic fires retreated and cooled. And as I looked at those pale faces, I could understand how a rash boy might abscond. Exchanging his confinement for a few brief hours of glorious freedom. But I was in no doubt that when stretched along the vaulting horse, with the eyes of the whole reformatory upon him, he would bitterly regret such recklessness.

We sat in Mrs McLaughlan’s study, and as befitted my new status, I was offered no refreshment but was made to stand with my back to the wall.

“I would be most interested to hear, Mrs McLaughlan, how you manage to combine your duties as matron with those of motherhood.”

“It’s not easy, Miss Strang. But from an early age I taught my children to fear the rod. And that more than anything makes it possible. I have two sons who are eight and ten, and a daughter of six. My husband is very supportive but is happy to leave the discipline of the children to me. When the boys are older, he will no doubt play his part, but at the moment it is wholly my responsibility. And I am happy that it should be.”

“And how do you exercise that responsibility, Mrs McLaughlan?”

“Efficiently, I hope, Miss Strang. I see no merit in threatening a whipping and not delivering it. Nor in whipping a child other than with the firm intention of causing pain. Pain breaks a child’s stubbornness and renders him contrite and obedient. And I can assure you the rod is not set aside until that is achieved.”

“I have always thought, Mrs McLaughlan, that obedience is one of the most valuable lessons a child can learn. It lays the foundation for every worthwhile accomplishment. Unless a child is obedient and listens quietly and respectfully to others, he will never learn. And obedience is the bedrock of a sound and moral life. Obedience to the laws of the land, but more importantly obedience to the laws of Our Father in Heaven.”

“I cannot agree more, Miss Strang. And there’s an undeniable satisfaction in whipping children and rendering them obedient. Many shy away from that. But I believe it to be God-given. And it’s more than just the satisfaction of bringing a child contrition. There is a very real pleasure in the means God has chosen as well as in the end. Although a mother may regret the need for chastisement, applying the rod to a child’s soft yet firm flesh is deeply gratifying. And I do believe that God intended it so. For it is a direct encouragement not to withhold what is necessary for a child’s good. Seeing him redden under the rod, feeling him squirm as he smarts under each stroke, and listening to his sobbing and hopeless pleading for remission, all that is deeply satisfying. It is not the pleasure that comes from cruelty, but the pleasure of loving a child in a warm, physical, intimate, and God-given way.”

She paused.

“I hope that is not too shocking, Miss Strang.”

“Not at all, Mrs McLaughlan. It sums up my own feelings exactly. But when you speak of the rod, do you mean a birch or some other implement?”

“I mean the birch, Miss Strang. As soon as my children could sit on the pot, I considered them ready for correction with a birch rod. That was a light birch suitable for chastising a child over my knee. And as they grew older and their wills strengthened, so did the birch. By the time the boys were six, I was turning them over the arm of the sofa and giving them twelve swishy cuts that left them sobbing and gasping. And if that didn’t render them contrite, a further twelve were given.”

“And the boys, now they are even older?”

“Still over the sofa and still twelve strokes in the first instance. But with a much more substantial birch. I get Wilkins, our groundsman here, to bind it up. When one of my boys receives a dozen with that, his bottom looks as though it’s been stung by a swarm of bees – and feels as though it has! Wilkins prepares all the rods for the reformatory.”

“And the girl?”

“Mildred? She gets the birch, too. The same as the boys. She is a most difficult and contrary child. It’s rare for several weeks to pass without my birching her.”

Miss Strang nodded.

“Of course, birches need to be routinely replaced. You are fortunate in having a groundsman who binds up fresh rods as you need them.”

“Indeed, Miss Strang. And he has a real gift for it.”

“Well, we must not trespass upon your hospitality further, Mrs McLaughlan. As you said, the Inneses are expecting us well before luncheon. It has been a most helpful discussion.”

She smiled.

“And I will consider whether to make more use of the birch in chastising my new charges at the Rectory. However, as I said, the frequency birches need to be renewed is a drawback. However, we shall see. Come, Livia. It is time to go. Thank Mrs McLaughlan for her hospitality and curtsey please.”

I did so, but with a bad grace that I hoped was not evident to my governess.

Once in the trap we rattled along toward the Rectory. It was warm now, although clouds were gathering in the west and there was a promise of rain later. We turned into the Rectory drive and Miss Strang took the trap around to the stable yard at the back. Mr Innes came out to greet us almost immediately.

“My dear Miss Strang. Welcome. You should have alighted at the front of the house and Hemsley would have driven the trap round. You are one of the family, not a servant that creeps in by the backdoor, even if you do have Mrs Innes’s new maid with you.”

I reddened, and cast my eyes down. Mr Innes smiled and tapped me under the chin.

“A blush to the cheeks and a demure countenance. Most appealing in a young girl, Miss Strang. A joy to behold. But Mrs Innes will expect a little more deference, I fear. A polite curtsey on first meeting and then again each morning. As the girl will soon discover, Mrs Innes is a very exacting mistress, very exacting indeed. As is my daughter. But I am sure that is not news to you, Miss Strang, not if you have come from the Reformatory. Rachel assists there and I understand she is highly thought of, very highly thought of. And so she should be. She is an exceptional young woman.”

“So Mrs McLaughlan informed us, Mr Innes. And certainly a very competent and committed disciplinarian. I have had the pleasure of seeing her punish a delinquent boy committed to the Reformatory by Mr Arbuthnot.”

“So I was told, Miss Strang. But come in to the Rectory.”

We entered, and Mr Innes rang a small bell on the hall table. Almost immediately a girl of about fourteen appeared.

“You rang, Sir?”

“Yes, Emily. We are going to the blue drawing room. Please find Mrs Innes and ask her to join us when she is ready.”

The blue drawing room was aptly named from its furnishings. Miss Strang was ushered to a comfortable armchair, and I was again told to stand with my back to the wall and not to fidget. There were cramps in my stomach and my face was hot.

“Would you care for a glass of sherry, Miss Strang?

“Thank you Mr Innes. That would be most kind.”

I looked around the room. It was a room with which I was to become very familiar. There was a large fireplace with a marble surround and above it a mantelshelf on which stood two ornate candlesticks and between them a handsome clock. I listened to its ticking and wondered how many ticks would pass before I was released from my servitude. Originally, the sentence had been for a few days, but with the changes approved by my father and Miss Strang’s move to the Innes’s household, I feared it would be for much longer. I shivered.

“It may be a short while before Mrs Innes joins us, Miss Strang. She is having to deal with a refractory member of staff. A thirteen year old girl who has recently joined us from the Orphanage.”

“Really, Mr Innes? I am surprised she is giving trouble. The Orphanage discipline is understood to be of the highest order. And with girls especially trained for service.”

“You are right, Miss Strang. But Mrs Innes particularly asked for a difficult girl. That may seem strange, but Mrs Innes has a great concern for the welfare of these girls. Most households are not prepared to take a girl who is going to be troublesome. And such girls are left in the Orphanage. And then at fourteen they are cast loose into the world. Some, sadly, even end up in prostitution. So, Mrs Innes feels she has a duty where possible to take these girls and to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. The proverb says it cannot be done, but Mrs Innes has her methods.”

“And the methods are, Mr Innes?”

“An unswerving commitment to the girl’s discipline, Miss Strang.”

“But they receive discipline in the Orphanage, Mr Innes. How does it differ?”

“In two ways Miss Strang. In two ways. First, in the Orphanage, a defiant girl is surrounded by companions and has their sympathy. And that blunts the cutting edge of discipline. But here there is no such camaraderie. Close friendships are discouraged, and on occasions Mrs Innes will even pin a white ribbon to a girl’s dress, as a warning that no one is to talk to her, or even acknowledge her. Secondly, in the Orphanage a girl is one among many. The threat of punishment hangs over all. It is an expression of the Orphanage’s displeasure. It is impersonal and its strength diluted. But here punishment is like the sun through a magnifying glass, focused by Mrs Innes into a hot and scorching beam upon a single miscreant.”

“That is excellent, Mr Innes. And is the reason why a governess for young children is preferable to sending them away to school. A strict regime in a school is never the same as the pervasive, all embracing discipline provided by a governess. A governess’s discipline permeates every moment of a child’s life and, when necessary, is brought to a yet more intense focus in a flogging. And it is a flogging administered by one who is loved and respected by the child as well as feared.”

At that point, Mrs Innes entered the room, leading a tearful girl by the ear.

“Stand on the far side of the fireplace, Benson. Turn around and face the wall. And place your hands on your head.”

She stooped down and lifted the girl’s dress and draped it over her shoulders. The girl was without knickers and the sudden bareness of her bottom seemed even more shocking in the calm atmosphere of the drawing room.

“As you see Mr Innes, Benson has suffered another whipping for her impudence.”

Mr Innes gave a slight nod of appreciation at the sight of the girl’s wealed bottom.

“Well, my dear, you seem to have done a thorough job. Did you have to hold the girl down or did she co-operate?”

“I am pleased to say, she co-operated, Mr Innes. But toward the end she was finding it difficult to keep position. As you know Rachel is of the opinion that we should get Hemsley to modify an old table along the lines of the birching table at the Reformatory. And I am sure she’s right. It would serve as a visible deterrent if placed in the large scullery. And would make the administration of a flogging simpler. As well as safer for the girl being punished.”

“Yes, I remember. I’ll speak to Hemsley today. We have an old pine table in the storeroom. It should take no time at all to make some holes in it for the arms and a few smaller additional holes for the straps to be run though.”

He pursed his lips for a moment.

“And as we’ll soon be having boys here to tutor, I’ll ask him to ensure there’s a central vent for a boy’s genitals to hang through. I know they use a bolster at the Reformatory to raise a boy to make him more comfortable, but if he has an accident . . . “

“Is that really necessary, Mr Innes? Rachel explained that boys always have to empty their bladders before a flogging and there’s a chamber pot kept particularly for that purpose. We can do the same here.”

“Yes, my dear, I know. But sometimes a boy out of fear is unable to pass water. And then there can be an accident. Rachel has told us several times over the past year that a boy has urinated while strapped to the table. I know he then receives additional strokes and has to mop up the urine. But in my view it’s better if a boy can hang his small genitals through an appropriate hole and have a large bucket beneath to catch any urine passed.”

“Yes, Mr Innes, that does make sense. And while a girl may not have the same discomfort pressing on her genitals when lying face down, she is quite capable of retaining a full bladder through fear and then releasing it at an inopportune moment. A carefully placed aperture would make excellent sense for both boys and girls. And helplessly emptying the bladder into a bucket during a flogging would be additionally shaming. And as you know, Mr Innes, I am a great believer in the value of shame when it comes to reforming children.”

She paused and looked at me.

“So, our new maid has arrived. Livia isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mrs Innes.”

“You do not address me as Mrs Innes, while in service here, girl. You will refer to me as Ma’am. And while on the subject of names, ‘Livia’ is a quite unsuitable name for a maid. From now on you will answer to ‘Arbuthnot’.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And you will curtsey.”

She waited while I did so.

“So are you looking forward to your time here, Arbuthnot?”

I knew better than to dissent.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

But my voice betrayed me. She looked at Miss Strang.

“Not spoken with conviction, Miss Strang. I seem to remember she had a disagreeable outburst of rudeness when we visited you. I understand she was to be birched for that. Has that been done?”

“It has Mrs Innes. Her father wished her to be birched at the Reformatory in the presence of her brothers. She was birched by Mrs McLaughlan earlier this morning.”

“And she now comes with a contrite spirit and an acceptance of her need for discipline?”

“I wish I could say she does, Mrs Innes. But there is still abundant evidence of surliness and a reluctance to submit to correction. I discussed this with Mrs McLaughlan and we both agreed that you might wish to take steps to deal with that at the outset of her service.”

(to be continued)

(The End)