Cordelia Lavington Chapter 16

Cordelia Lavington Chapter 16
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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Chapter 16

"Yes, Samuel. Practical help. So that a boy thinks twice before abusing himself."

She smiled.

"But a boy never believes he'll be caught. Does he, Samuel? He always expects to escape being found out. And so he may. But one day he'll have to face God and be judged. And isn't it better to confess to his mother and accept her gentler discipline and learn from it."

She paused.

"But a boy will seldom do that. He enjoys sinking his teeth into that soft delicious fruit."

She shook her head.

"But it's as deadly as the fruit eaten by Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, Samuel."

The boy shuffled miserably, his pyjama trousers still around his ankles. His little member hanging limp and forlorn before his mother's gaze. She reached out with the tawse and lifted it gently.

"So, out of kindness, Samuel, whenever I catch you playing with this, you will be flogged. And flogged severely. For only the most bitter of punishments can render that pleasure sour and unattractive. Some mothers, I know, are reluctant to punish a boy as he needs to be punished. But you will be pleased to know, Samuel, I'm not one of those."

She walked over to the sideboard and, reaching behind it, pulled out a padded board. It was about two and a half feet across. Samuel watched as she went to the armchair and rested it across the arms. Underneath the board were two cross pieces of wood that fitted just inside the two arms and prevented the board from slipping.

She pointed.

"Sit on the board, Samuel."

He whimpered for he knew what was coming. Fastened to the top of the chair, and hanging over the back just out of sight, were two loops of cord. Once he was seated, Mrs Lavington reached down and placing her forearm behind the boy's knees swept up his legs, as though he were a two year old about to have his nappy changed. She pulled off his pyjama trousers and dropped them on the floor. And then slipping the loops over his feet, she tightened them around his ankles. As he lay on his back with his legs elevated, the smooth, flat backs of his thighs were exposed, as was the soft, sensitive area where thighs and buttocks meet. His small penis and scrotum were also clearly visible.

Securing a boy in such a position might seem cruel and unloving. But Mrs Lavington's commitment to her children's discipline was absolute. When her children had kicked in the womb she had felt a frisson of delight. A new life was stirring within her. But it was a life bound physically to her own life. But once born, it was no longer confined within the safety of her womb, and had to be secured within the safety of her will. A child had to be taught not to wander. Taught to confine his will within her will. And to do so willingly and submissively. And when he knowingly crossed a set boundary, the rod had to be applied. This was not to reduce the child to a slavish subservience, but to train him, so that eventually he could indeed live beyond her will in safety.

When Samuel was very young, she wondered if he would soon learn to live obediently, rendering punishment superfluous. But as month succeeded month, and the range of his activity increased, so did the opportunity for transgression. As he grew, so did the use of the rod.

And securing a child for chastisement was not seen as cruel but as an act of caring so that the flogging could be administered with the least risk to his well-being. For a severe flogging, it was unrealistic to expect a child to lie still. And to whip a flailing boy was unsafe and militated against good discipline. Not that all struggling was prevented by his bonds. But it would be a helpless, fruitless struggling that brought home to him the need to submit and live within her will. And there was no escape from that will. Just as for the boys within the reformatory there was no escape. Even for those who foolishly absconded.

Only a month ago, an eight year old boy had gone missing. It was two days before he was recaptured, cold and shivering, and brought back in the late afternoon. Mrs Lavington had examined him in the infirmary, and had concluded that food and a good night's sleep were all he needed before facing his punishment the following morning.

The Principal's policy on runaways was unvarying. It was essential that an example be made to deter others. At ten o'clock the boys and staff were assembled in the hall. On a raised platform at the front had been placed a low leather vaulting buck from the gymnasium.

She brought the boy from the infirmary where he had spent a restless night. On the Principal's instructions he was wearing nothing but a shirt. On either side of the hall, seated cross-legged on the floor, were the assembled boys. The staff were standing to the sides and at the back. On the platform, beside the buck, stood the Principal. A little further back was a deep pail in which were immersed three substantial looking birches.

She remembered almost exactly the Principal's words.

This morning I have the distasteful task of dealing with a boy who chose to abscond from this reformatory. In doing so, he thoughtlessly put himself at risk and greatly inconvenienced those who had to search for him. You are here to witness his punishment, both to add to his shame and as a warning to each of you that absconders will always be caught, brought back, and punished. And punished with the utmost severity.

He had then turned to the pale faced boy in the shirt.

"Have you anything to say, Burgess, before you go over the buck?"

Wisely the boy had declined, realising no words of his would prevent or ameliorate the flogging.

"Then stand facing the buck."

The buck had been placed end on to the assembly. On a nod from the Principal, Mrs Lavington and the boy's form master had stepped forward and lifted the boy up so that he was straddling the end, facing away from the assembly, with his legs hanging either side. His shirt was then rucked up and he was pressed forward. A thick leather strap was then passed under the buck and fastened over his body.

"Perhaps you would stand at the far end, Matron, and hold the boy's wrists to prevent his slipping."

She had grasped the small wrists firmly, giving him a gentle pull to stretch him out. She was looking down the length of his body and could see the crown of each buttock. The Principal had then walked across to the pail and selected a rod. It was a long rod. Six substantial lengths of birch, each over three feet in length, bound together. It was not over bushy, but still splayed out into a tough tracery of whippy, leathery twigs designed to wreak havoc on a boy's buttocks. The Principal shook off the surplus water. Then, slowly, methodically and skilfully, the boy was birched.

The Principal recognised the importance of allowing time for a boy to writhe and smart. The first dozen strokes were given with a quarter of a minute between each. Then, when he must have felt that a swarm of angry insects was eating him alive, the delivery was slowed and succeeding strokes were given at a rate of two a minute.

The public flogging was intended to deter absconding and the sight of the boy, roaring and twisting in torment for a full half minute after each cut of the rod was a sight to instil terror in the most hardened boy. All eyes were on the absconder's small buttocks as they reddened and were slowly cut and scored by the birch. Mrs Lavington looked out over the assembly, at the pale rapt faces of the boys, as they watched the dreadful retribution exacted. A boy would have to be desperate indeed to risk such punishment.

Not a sound was heard apart from the boy's shrill screams of agony. Mrs Lavington could see Edward Crawley standing to one side. There was a frown on his face. She had no doubt he disapproved of such rigorous discipline. But what alternative was there? A boy who was insubordinate to a member of staff could expect the soundest of canings. And if he didn't mend his ways, a visit to the Principal's office to be birched. But a boy who was guilty of the ultimate insubordination, who turned his back on those who were helping him to reform, who chose instead to return to the wild? What other remedy was there?

Mrs Lavington believed implicitly that punishment was the measure by which a child grasped the seriousness of his sin. This principle was threaded through the whole of moral creation. From the mild spanking of a small child for some wilful peccadillo, through to the ultimate penalty of the hempen noose. To punish grave offences as though they were of little consequence was a sure way to confuse a child's moral education and to encourage sin. A dereliction of duty that for some had indeed led to the gallows.

So, as she grasped the boy by the wrists and watched the progress of his flogging, she had no doubt about its justification and value. At the back of the hall she could see Mrs Fairclough watching intently. It was no secret that the Principal's wife had fully supported her husband in the more rigorous regime he had reinstated on his appointment; and encouraged him to apply the rod for all misdemeanours. For her, as for Mrs Lavington, flogging was the punishment of first resort. Better to root out the small growths of sin before they took root and multiplied. Easier to uproot a small sapling than have a whole tree to fell and a huge stump to dig out.

After twenty four cuts, the boy was roaring profusely. His bottom looked as though it had been stung by a swarm of midges, and in places, where the skin had broken, little seams of blood had appeared. The Principal tossed the birch under the buck. But if the boy thought the torture was over, he soon discovered otherwise. The Principal believed that after two dozen strokes a birch had lost its bite and, with twigs bent and broken, needed to be, replaced. Striding across to the pail he selected a fresh rod, and swished it through the air. It was full of sap, and enormously springy.

Mrs Lavington held the boy's wrists in a firm grasp. She watched as, slowly and skilfully, another two dozen strokes were administered. By the thirtieth, the boy drained and exhausted had ceased his roaring. Apart from the swish of the birch and the plashing of the twigs against soft bottom flesh the only sound was a succession of shrill, rasping, wriggling squeals of agony.

When the flogging concluded, four dozen strokes had been swished across the boy's small buttocks. From where Mrs Lavington stood, she could see the thick ridges that had been raised, and the bleeding seams of agony where the rod had broken the skin. Never had she seen a boy so utterly broken. There was blood, too, on his chin, where in his torment he'd bitten his lower lip. His eyes were red and swollen. His face wet with his tears. His hair dishevelled. She had helped to lift him off the buck and had escorted him straight to the infirmary. How he had squealed and wriggled, as the iodine had been applied. He was in the infirmary for three days.

And now before her was another boy, her own son, for whom her love and concern were deep and consuming. Many mothers would, out of affection for a child, seek to excuse his conduct or ameliorate the discipline that was his due. But not Mrs Lavington. Her love for Samuel made her determined to spare him nothing. If she was committed to weaning him off the vicious habit of masturbation, then she could not shy away from the only sure way of achieving that.

Upstairs, Elizabeth leaned over the banister rail. She had listened to her mother questioning her brother in his room, and had imagined him squirming in shame before the probing inquisition. And she, too, had squirmed. But hers was an altogether different squirming, engendered by a nervous anticipation of the punishment to come. She barely understood her feelings and was certainly unable to analyse them. But she was aware that she found witnessing her brothers' punishments pleasurable.

Downstairs her mother had left the door open and she could hear every word that was said. She heard him whimper as his legs were fastened above his head to the back of the chair.

"You see, Samuel, the pain of punishment lasts much longer than the little fleeting pleasure of masturbation. And a sensible boy will recognise that and desist from his sin."

Elizabeth held her breath. There was a pause and then a shrill scream. Just before the scream she heard the smack of the tawse on the boy's flesh. She tiptoed down the stairs and crouched, bending her head, so that she could see into the room.

(To be continued)