Miss Strang Chapter 9
By Governess
liviaarbuthnot1@gmail.com

Copyright 2008 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 9

Because I was kneeling, the spanking was administered by Miss Strang standing by my side and bending slightly forward. She applied the hard oval back of the hairbrush first to one buttock and then, reaching across, to the other. The strokes were given vigorously, and, after each, I was writhing and kicking my legs, drumming them on the upholstered seat on which I knelt.

Each time she patiently waited for me to compose myself. As I stared ahead, I became acutely conscious that my face, wet with tears was a living icon of my suffering. The realisation that this window on my inner agony was wide open for my brothers to peer into was deeply shocking and humiliating.

In all the hairbrush descended seven times, or so John told me later for I lost count. At the end I was sobbing, great gulping sobs of agony with a bottom red and inflamed. I felt very sorry for myself. But I was overcome by a great sense of relief that it was over, that I had paid the penalty demanded by Miss Strang and was now restored to her favour.

She lifted my nightdress from my shoulders and let it drop.

"Stand up, Livia. Hands behind your back, please."

She looked at me, her eyes a little narrowed.

"John said that you were going to tidy his clothes for him. Is that right?"

I felt a tightness in my stomach.

"Yes, Miss Strang. It is right."

"And why was that?"

"I suppose... because he's my brother and... I didn't want him to be punished again."

She smiled.

"I see. You felt sorry for him and were being kind and generous. Is that right?"

I began to feel a little less anxious.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"I see. And do you think that was best for John?"

"I... I suppose so, Miss Strang."

"Well, Livia, you suppose wrongly. Your interference, although superficially kind, was in fact an unkindness. Do you know what "superficially" means?"

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

"It means that what appears to be one thing is in truth quite different. What you did appeared to be kind and helpful, but was in fact unkind and unhelpful. Can you think why?"

Under her remorseless questioning I could feel my eyes filling again with tears. The cloud of Miss Strang's displeasure that had been hanging over me had not, after all, been lifted. I desperately wanted her acceptance, her approval. I knelt at her feet and grasped her dress.

"Please, Miss Strang... I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Please, Miss Strang."

She extended her hand and placed it on my head, softly stroking my hair.

The final "why" was spoken with a firm questioning emphasis implying that much turned on the answer. It sobered me and made me realise that dissolving into tears and helpless pleading were best avoided. After thinking for a while, I answered as best I could.

"Please, Miss Strang, was it because I was doing something that you had asked John to do?"

"That is very perceptive of you, Livia. And by perceptive, I mean clever, seeing something that many other people might miss. That is very well done."

I responded to her praise, and relaxed a little. She continued.

"What you were doing was to cover up for John. To do for him what he should have done for himself. I had told him to tidy his clothes and he neglected to do that. And for that he needed to be punished. Obedience, Livia, is required of children at all times, and the way a child learns the importance of obedience is by being soundly whipped every time he disobeys. Every time. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"Did John require a whipping?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And by covering up for him, did you prevent his receiving the whipping he needed, the whipping that would help him understand the need for obedience? Well?"

"Yes, I did, Miss Strang."

"Fortunately, I discovered John's omission before you had deceitfully covered it up. And for that he has been whipped."

She waited, letting the implication of what she had said, sink in.

"When I asked you to settle your brothers down for the night, did I also ask you to tidy John's clothes for him?"

"No, Miss Strang."

"But you did. You chose to act in a way that was not in his interest, and worse you would have acted deceitfully."

"But Miss Strang, I didn't think of it like that. I was just sorry for him."

"How you thought of it, Livia, matters not at all. It is what you did that matters. And for that you must be punished."

She still had the hairbrush in her hand.

"Return this to the top of my desk, Livia, and fetch me the cane."

Within, I felt a well of loneliness deepen, a hopeless place into which I had stumbled and from which there was no escape. I walked to the desk, and did as she bid. She took the cane.

"You will return to the prie dieu and pull up your nightdress."

She again rucked it over my shoulders. Simon looked at me, wide-eyed, but John glanced away.

"You will receive four cuts for attempting to deny John the discipline that he needed; and a further four cuts for your deceitfulness. Do you consider that fair?"

I wanted to object, to tell her that it was not fair. But, abjectly, I agreed with her judgement.

As I waited for the first stroke, I could feel the cool air of the schoolroom on my naked flesh. I was conscious of my bottom, full and fleshy, swelling out from my waist. I wanted to grasp it, to protect its soft sensual weight. But ownership had passed to Miss Strang. It was hers to cane, until I was a small, sobbing, contrite child, begging for forgiveness.

If I had hoped for some clemency, I was disappointed. I heard the whoosh as the cane descended. It cut diagonally across my left buttock, with the tip cutting low down into my right. I screamed. I had seen Mrs Patey cut cheese in the village shop, watching fascinated as she drew the tough, thin wire down through the pale cheddar. And it was as though my bottom had been cut by such a wire, biting and slicing deep into my flesh. My arms went back. and I arched forward over the prie dieu.

Miss Strang waited until my howling ceased.

"Livia, you will receive two extra cuts. Please, get back into position so your discipline may continue."

"No, Miss Strang, please... I can't. It's hurts so much. Please, help me. I'm sorry... please."

I was distraught. I had wondered, watching John receive the cane across his spanked bottom, what it would feel like to be caned on flesh that was still hot and smarting. Now I knew. But it was less the rattan cutting across flesh already inflamed and sore, than the merciless weight of remorseless discipline. My resolve to offer myself unresisting to the rod had ebbed away.

"And how can I help you, Livia? What do you expect? Surely not that I will remit the punishment that is due?"

I began to sob again. She stepped forward and placed her arm around my shoulders, gently running her hand up and down my smooth back.

"Livia, the full penalty must, I am afraid, be paid."

She paused, her cool hand continuing to caress me. It seemed as though time was standing still. Then she spoke in a soft voice.

"Do you want me to restrain you so that you cannot move out of position? Would that help?"

"Yes, Miss Strang... yes, please. I am so sorry."

She ran her hand up the back of my neck and into my hair, tousling it gently.

"Hush, child, calm yourself. We will count the two additional strokes you are to receive as a fair recompense for the right to avoid the penalty of further strokes."

Her voice hardened as little.

"As I said to you before, if your were a boy, it would be different."

She went across to the desk, lifted it and took out a long, soft, leather strap with a buckle.

"Arms over the back, Livia, as before, please."

She then ran the soft strap around my body and the back of the prie dieu, tightening it and securing my arms firmly just above the elbow. I gave an exploratory wriggle and shivered at my helplessness.

The ten strokes that were my due were given unhurriedly. After each I was allowed time to smart, and time to regain the awareness of my governess's complete authority over me. Each cut was administered with the intention of imprinting a livid stripe on my skin that would be visible for several days. I was hot and damp, deeply ashamed of being disciplined so thoroughly before John and Simon. That they could see my every tear, and my agony in every facial contortion was bitterly humiliating. As I looked out through damp eyes and sodden lashes, neither would catch my eye.

Miss Strang unbuckled the strap and folded it, returning it to her desk. I waited, reluctant to move until permission had been given.

"Stand up, Livia."

I eased myself off the prie dieu and stood before her, remembering to place my hands behind my back.

"I trust that you are a contrite girl. Do you know what contrite means?"

"I... I am not sure, Miss Strang."

"It means that you are sorry for what you have done, that you have been punished for it and because you have been punished, you can claim forgiveness. Do you want to be forgiven?"

I had never wanted anything more.

"Yes, Miss Strang. Please Miss Strang."

She put her arm around me.

"You are forgiven, Livia. Now go and change into your day clothes."

(To be continued)