Cordelia Lavington Chapter 14

Cordelia Lavington Chapter 14
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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Mrs Lavington had noticed how her daughter’s eyes followed her older brother as he stepped over to the pouffe. And she remembered how, as a girl, she had followed with similar rapt attention the punishment of her brothers. When she had moved to England just before her eighth birthday, Charles, had been six and Marcel two. Although she continued to be subject to the rod until well past her thirteenth birthday, her mother’s discipline had increasingly weighed more heavily on her sons.

Watching her brothers wriggling and writhing under the rod has been physically arousing. Just as the mere sight of a hot curry thickens the saliva and makes the taste buds tingle. Both boys were regularly whipped, and as the years passed, she watched their discipline with an ever increasing relish. Later, as an older sister, she would whip Marcel herself.

As a small girl, to be spanked was an agony scarcely to be borne. She had feared the hairbrush, as later she did the stinging cuts of the martinet. And yet, afterwards, a strange ravishing warmth would course through her. Once or twice she had courted her mother’s displeasure for that strange enjoyment. And for Cordelia there had been no sharp distinction between her own suffering and that of her brothers. She had harboured a real appreciation of her mother’s authority and respected her for the discipline she imposed, whether on herself or on Charles and Marcel.

And now there was her own daughter. Although Elizabeth was younger than Samuel by a couple of years, she was aware of the girl’s interest in his punishments and in those of his brother.

“Kneel in front of the pouffe, Samuel, and lean right across it.”

He did so. She bent forward and rucked his vest and shirt up his smooth back. She tapped the cane across his bottom.

“And this is where boys are best taught the consequences of disobedience, Samuel. On a completely bare bottom.”

She glanced at her daughter.

“Isn’t that right, Elizabeth?”

The girl’s eyes were bright and her lips glistening.

“Ye . . yes, mother.”

Again she tapped his bottom.

“How many strokes did Mr Crawley give you, Samuel?”

“Th . . . three . . . mother.”

“And what were those given for?”

“F . . . for talking.”

“Talking when you were supposed to be silent. Well let us practise being silent, shall we? See how silent you can be when given the caning you should have been given by Mr Crawley. Three strokes across a completely bare bottom. The slightest murmur and the stroke will be given again. Do you understand?”

“Ye . . yes, mother.”

She tapped his bottom once more. His buttocks clenched in anticipation of the first cut.”

“No clenching, Samuel. Any clenching and the stroke will be given again.”

She waited until his bottom was once more round and firm. She glanced at Elizabeth. She was flushed, with a look of breathless concentration on her nine year old face.

Mrs Lavington raised the cane and swished it down across the boy’s firm, compact buttocks.

“Was that a sound I heard, Samuel?”

“N . . no, mother. Please, no.”

“Are you sure?”

She turned to her daughter.

“Did you hear it, Elizabeth?”

“I . . . I think so, mother.”

“I’m sure you did. And what did I say, Samuel?”

“No, mother. Please, no.”

“It’s no good pleading with me, Samuel. You either made a sound or you didn’t. And both Elizabeth and I heard it. Nothing can be done about it now. The stroke will be given again.”

She tapped his bottom. And I suggest you remain completely silent from now on.”

Mrs Lavington raised the cane. She brought it down with much less force. Samuel who was pretending his lips had been glued together made no sound.

It was not kindness that made his mother moderate the stroke. She wanted him to feel he could succeed, that by a tremendous effort of will he could escape the further punishment she had threatened. But she knew she could break his resolve at any time. That having given hope, she could dash it upon the rocks of despair and wring from him a scream of tortured agony.

The next stroke was whippy and stung dreadfully, but he had closed his eyes and pressed his lips together and again mastered the pain. He held his breath.

Elizabeth’s eyes were large and unblinking as she stared at her brother laid over the leather pouffe. She was too young fully to understand her feelings. She knew she loved him and looked up to him. He was kind and caring. Even protective. Part of her was willing him to remain silent and avoid further punishment; but another part of her wanted to see him caned and broken on the wheel of her mother’s displeasure.

Mrs Lavington was in no hurry to administer the next stroke. She tapped his bottom and waited, letting his anxiety build until it was almost at breaking point. Elizabeth could hardly swallow, so thick was her saliva and tight her throat. She thought there was a slight smile on her mother’s face as she brought the cane down with a fearful whoosh across the boy’s tender thighs. He gave a piercing scream and reared up in agony.

For the next minute, her mother watched the small half-naked boy, writhing and sobbing in his distress. He had struggled to remain silent and avoid the additional strokes. But he had failed.

Still she waited, saying nothing. Forcing him to speak.

“P . . . pl . . . please, mother. I . . . I’m sorry.”

She spoke quietly to him.

“I am sure you are, Samuel. But the lesson in remaining silent has clearly not yet been learned.”

She waited for another minute, allowing his sobbing to subside.

“I’m going to continue caning you, until you have received three strokes in succession without screaming, wriggling or in any way resisting the punishment. Do you understand?”

“Ye . . yes, mother.”

“And Elizabeth, please go and kneel in front of Samuel and hold his hands in yours. I don’t want him reaching back. He is in enough trouble as it is.”

Elizabeth knelt and grasped his hands. They were cold and she squeezed them encouragingly. She had a real liking for her brother. Once, after a particularly severe flogging, she had crept into his bedroom to comfort and console him. But the thought that he might be spared the rod or punished in some other way, never entered her head. Her brothers’ whippings, like her own, were the inevitable consequence of disobedience, and fully justified. They were not something she questioned or had the least qualms about. Any more than she questioned the pleasure of a glass of cold water on a hot day or the sight of a flaming log fire on a winter’s evening. As her mother raised the cane, she felt a strange movement in her stomach as if a small animal had stretched itself.

Mrs Lavington was determined not only to teach obedience, that a boy was to remain silent when told to do so, but also that he was utterly dependent upon her for mercy. The stroke fell with a whoosh across his buttocks and Elizabeth felt his grip tighten as he struggled to control himself. Again the cane was raised. His mouth opening in silent agony. His face was wet and his hair dishevelled. His mother smiled as she brought the limber rattan swishing down across the tenderness of his thigh flesh just beneath the fold of his buttocks. It was if she were aiming not at the surface but at a point several inches deeper. He screamed in his agony, rearing up and tearing his hands free from his sister’s grasp.

He flopped forward over the pouffe, a small sobbing heap of boy.

“Well, Samuel. You did well to remain silent until the second stroke. But I said that the caning wouldn’t stop until there had been three strokes without a sound. Have you anything to say?”

“Please, mother . . . Please . . . ”

He shuddered with helpless sobbing. She waited patiently.

“Well? Have you anything to say?”

“N . . no . . . mother.”

Then, hold his hands again, Elizabeth. And grip them tightly this time.”

As Elizabeth held him, he pushed up his hands, still gripped in hers, and rubbed his eyes with her knuckles. She could feel the hot dampness of his tears on her skin. As her mother raised the cane, she felt faint. Another mother might have weakened in her resolve, gone back on her word, and brought the punishment to a premature end. But she knew her mother would never do that. And Samuel knew it, too. He tensed himself for the stroke, gnawing his lower lip, telling himself he would bite through it rather than make a sound. He jerked and squirmed, releasing his agony not in sound, but in exigent, desperate writhing. Another stroke. And still he contained himself. But the next, swished once more into the tender fold of his buttocks, was too much for him. He roared and kicked, tearing his hands from his sister’s grasp; and then collapsed into a despairing, sobbing heap.

His mother smiled. She knew how shame and despair ate away a boy’s defiance. How all heart went out of him.

“I think he has learned his lesson, Elizabeth. But he has still to receive three more cuts without making a sound. I have to be obedient to my word.”

She stepped around and ruffled his hair.

“So three more strokes, Samuel, and not a murmur of a sound. They will be little boy cuts quite unsuitable for a boy of your age. But as you’ve behaved so shamefully, like a five year old receiving the cane for the first time, they are not entirely inappropriate. Hold his hands, hopefully for the last time, Elizabeth.”

The three strokes were given and he was then sent upstairs to bed.

“And I want a little talk with you before prayers, Samuel. So change immediately into your pyjamas and sit on the bed and wait.”

She smiled at her daughter.

“Thank you Elizabeth. You had better take yourself off to bed, too. And you may read for an extra quarter of an hour as a reward for being so helpful. But let me say prayers with you first. Come and kneel here before me.”

She placed her hand on the girl’s head, feeling the softness of the hair between her fingers.

Dear Father God, we thank you for your goodness towards us. For the food we eat, and for the warmth and safety of family life. We thank you too for the rod of correction which you have given for the right discipline of children. May Samuel learn to obey those set over him and to walk in your truth. Thank you for Elizabeth and for the help she is in the family. And for William whose stubborn will needs to be subdued. May we all, like the Lord Jesus, learn obedience through the things that we suffer. And bring us all to your everlasting kingdom. Amen.

She smiled.

“And now upstairs and get ready for bed.”

(to be continued)