Cordelia Lavington Chapter 24

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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Mrs Lavington sat at her desk. There was still Michael Clough to deal with. He was small for his age with curly brown hair and bright smiling eyes. Popular with boys and staff alike. A while ago, she had asked for his records, curious as to why he had been sent to the reformatory. As she suspected it was mischief rather than a vicious disposition that had been his downfall, although there was also mention of some indecency with a younger boy. She looked at the clock, and after checking the timetable, made her way to Mrs Fairclough’s office.

Diana Fairclough was a mother of three boys. The two eldest had left home. The youngest, a thirteen year old boy, was away at school. Mrs Fairclough knew her husband had a high regard for Cordelia Lavington and, although secure in her husband’s affection, was aware of their close professional relationship. She also envied Mrs Lavington her opportunity to discipline the boys in her care; and looked back fondly to the days when, as a mother, she had had the freedom to chastise small boys as often, and as severely, as she judged appropriate.

Mrs Lavington knocked at the door.

“Come in.”

The room was furnished with a pleasing sense of colour. There were several pictures and these harmonised with the decorative scheme. The curtains were long and of a dark rich velvet. There was a walnut table with four matching chairs, a small sofa and two armchairs.

“What a pleasant surprise, Cordelia. I was about to have an early lunch. Just coffee and sandwiches. Would you join me?”

“Thank you Diana. That would be most welcome. I’ve had a busy morning disciplining two boys caught abusing themselves.”

“Yes, James told me you’d launched a campaign against that. And a good thing, too. I never allowed my boys to abuse themselves and there should be no scope to do so here.”

“My view entirely, Diana. And it’s a problem I’m having to face at home. The earlier it’s caught and eradicated the better. But until a boy’s older enough to have seminal emissions catching him is difficult. And I’m finding that with Samuel. Yesterday, I managed to squeeze a confession out of him, and he was soundly tawsed. I just hope that will break him of the habit.”

“Well, Cordelia, it may, but in my experience, boys are not so easily dissuaded. And that’s why the response to masturbation has to be so severe. A boy’s not going to give up the pleasure of self-abuse if all he gets is a little spanking. He’ll consider that fair exchange for the delight of playing with himself. The first time I caught a boy masturbating, he got a dozen strokes of the cane across his bare bottom. And the next time two dozen. And from then on he was birched.”

“And you found that worked, did you, Diana?”

“Well, it certainly made him think twice before indulging himself. But the key is shame, Cordelia.”

Mrs Lavington nodded.

“But we need to prepare the ground from an early age.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, Cordelia, that a boy should be taught modesty from his earliest years. Taught that it’s shameful to be naked and without clothes and to uncover the lower part of his body. And taught that if he displays his genitals or his bottom other than for his toilet then he will be punished. And at the same time, standards of manliness should be inculcated. He should be forbidden to grizzle and cry when he hurts himself. And gently ridiculed when he does so. ‘What a little cry baby, your are! You’re behaving just like a girl!’ And so on.”

She paused and rang for Mary.

“And that’s why, when spankings are given, a boy’s bottom needs to be bared and the spanking given with a stout hairbrush. He is then doubly shamed. Shamed by his nakedness and shamed by his unmanly tears.”

“But then he is forgiven.”

“Yes. But forgiveness is as important. It binds him to his mother’s will and renders him compliant. A sobbing, shamed boy feels utterly rejected. He has let both himself and his mother down. And if she has whipped him as he needs to be whipped, he will be desperate to be accepted, so that his manliness, dignity and self-respect may be restored to him.”

Cordelia nodded. She felt a deep affection for Diana Fairclough. She had no need to dissemble her feelings. They chatted on and after a while there was a knock at the door.

“Mary, would you be so kind as to bring some sandwiches and coffee for us. Perhaps a mixture of cheese and ham.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The girl was barely fourteen and fresh from the orphanage. Cordelia knew that Mrs Fairclough was an exacting mistress”

“How is Mary settling in, Diana?”

“Still learning her duties. She lacks application and needs her nose kept to the grindstone. I told the orphanage that we had high standards, and that if the girl fell short she would be punished. At the moment she is being caned several times a week.”

Mrs Lavington smiled.

“We seem to share out the boys and girls between us, Diana. You have the girls to discipline and I have the boys.”

“Yes. But you have Elizabeth. And I’m sure at her age she’s not immune from correction.”

“No, Diana. She most certainly is not. Yesterday I caught her out in a bad lie and she compounded the sin by dissembling further and refusing to admit it. As it was past her bedtime, I postponed the punishment until today. And by the time I’ve finished with her this evening, she’ll feel very sorry for herself and have a bottom and thighs covered with throbbing weals from my tawse.”

Mrs Fairclough raised her eyebrows.

“I thought she was rather subdued when I took the register this morning. That would explain it. But her behaviour has rather worried me over the past few weeks. She’s been less than diligent and slow to obey. I have chided her and threatened her with the belt, but so far she’s been spared.”

Mrs Lavington gave a smile.

“Don’t tell me you are turning into an Edward Crawley?”

Mrs Fairclough feigned horror.

“I hope not, Cordelia. James has told me about your difficulties on that front. It’s not that I am reluctant to apply the tawse when justified, but Elizabeth has always seemed to me a conscientious girl who responds to modest chiding and plenty of encouragement.”

“Now you do sound like Edward Crawley!”

Mrs Fairclough smiled.

“Except that when I apply the rod it’s something a child will not want repeated in a hurry. But from what you’ve told me about Elizabeth, I think some sharp classroom discipline is probably now in order. She sounds like a girl who is restive under the yoke of authority. How old is she? Nine? Well, she’s probably reached the age when she resents instruction and feels she can rule herself.”

The door opened and Mary came in with the sandwiches and coffee.

“Put it there Mary, please.”

The girl stooped and as she did so the tray sloped and the coffee pot slipped. The girl righted the tray quickly and prevented the pot ending up on the floor, but in doing so the milk spilt and the two cup chinked against each other. Nothing was broken but it clearly fell below the standard expected by Mrs Fairclough.

“Put the tray down, Mary.”

She inspected it.

“And why is the coffee pot not standing on a rubber mat as I instructed you?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. Truly I am.”

“I am sure you are, Mary. And no harm’s done. But the issue is not whether harm has been done, but whether you have been slack and disobedient.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Well? Have you?”

“I . . . I suppose so, Ma’am.”

“Then you suppose correctly. And what happens to girls who are slack and disobedient?”

“Please, Ma’am, I am sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“In that case you will welcome a little stiffening of your resolve. Fetch the cane, please.”

“No, Ma’am. Please. It was an accident.”

“I am sorry, Mary. It was not an accident. It was the result of carelessness. So no more argument. You will fetch the cane.”

The girl left the room and returned almost immediately holding a crook-handled rattan cane. It was about three feet in length and pencil slim. She handed it to her mistress.

“Thank you Mary. Bend forward and place your hands on the seat of the chair, please.

Obediently the girl complied. Mrs Fairclough lifted her dress and slipped it up her thighs.”

“Hold it.”

Then her knickers were taken down revealing her smooth, round, fourteen year old bottom,. The evidence of a recent correction was still faintly visible. Mrs Fairclough raised the cane, swished it back and then brought it down with a sharp twist of her wrist. There was a satisfying whup as it impacted with the girl’s bottom.. Immediately, a red stripe appeared on the soft flesh. Cordelia watched intently as over the course of the next few minutes, two dozen smarting strokes were administered. Apart from a gasp after each stroke, the girl made no sound.

Mrs Fairclough stepped back.

“Pull up your knickers.”

The girl adjusted her dress and turned round. Although she had taken the caning with little vocal resistance, her eyes were damp and her cheeks wet.

“It gives me no pleasure to punish you, Mary, but it’s the only way a girl learns. If disobedience and thoughtlessness go uncorrected, how will you improve? You’re on a three month trial from the orphanage, and at the end of that I hope to retain you as my personal maid. Is that want you want?”

“Ye . . . yes, Ma’am.”

She lowered the cane and held it out.

“Then, kiss the rod and determine to do better in future.”

The girl bend forward, bowed her head and touched her lips to the instrument of correction. She then curtsied.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. Please forgive me.”

She spoke in a formulaic way, as a familiar prayer might be said in church. But Mrs Fairclough smiled.

“Good girl. Now serve the coffee. And then get on with the other tasks you’ve been set.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

When she had departed, Cordelia commented on her demeanour when punished.

“Yes, Mrs Phillips at the orphanage is very strict with the girls. Like Sarah Wesley’s children they are taught to fear the rod and cry softly. And they soon learn that noisy, rancorous behaviour is unacceptable. But Mary is a good girl. She just needs training in the good old fashioned way. As you saw I was not unduly harsh with her. She received no more than a naughty schoolboy or schoolgirl might receive for a poor piece of work.”

She took a sip of coffee.

“Now where were we Cordelia? Ah, yes. Elizabeth.

(to be continued)

(The End)