Cordelia Lavington Chapter 30

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 made her way to the classroom in which Diana Fairclough was teaching. As she entered, she saw that her daughter was at the front with her hand extended for the strap.   She pursed her lips and sat quietly at the back, as the punishment took its course. It’s shaming enough for a child to be punished by her own parent, but to be punished by another with the parent witnessing her distress is even worse. Elizabeth felt a coldness in her stomach as she held out her hand for the first burning assault on the small bony structure. She glanced at her mother who was watching with a small frown creasing her brow.

Mrs Fairclough spoke sharply.

“You know the rules, Elizabeth. A girl looks forward with her eyes open when she’s having her hand strapped. That will be one extra stroke.”

The tawsing continued.   At the end Elizabethwas crying. She shook her hand and tucked it under her armpit.

“Sit at your desk, Elizabeth.And please remember that in this class, a girl down not speak unless invited to do so. Now continue with your arithmetic.”

She smiled at Cordelia and stepped to the back of the class.

“Good morning, Matron. How can I help?   Is it one of the girls you want to see?”

“No, Mrs Fairclough. Nothing to do with the girls. I have a favour to ask you. I have a duty in the reformatory this evening between six and seven, possibly as late as eight. And I was hoping you might be able to come across to the house and supervise the children’s homework and bedtime.Is that possible?”

“Of course, Matron. I can be there at a quarter to six. I’ll have a word with you in the lunch break to see if there’s anything else I need to know.”

“Thank you, Mrs Fairclough. That’s greatly appreciated.”

Elizabeth’s back was bent over her book, and she was writing diligently.

“And I’ll be eager to hear a little more about the background to Elizabeth’s punishment.”

She paused and raised her head.

“Although I’m sure it will figure in your daily report about her behaviour.”

She noticed a slight stiffening in her daughter’s back.   Obviously, Elizabeth hadn’t mentioned the report to any of her classmates; and although she couldn’t see the girl’s face, she knew it would be reddening at the exposure of such a shameful secret.

And as Mrs Lavington returned to the infirmary, she thought about childish secrets. And how as a child she had wished to conceal from her friends that she was spanked by her mother. Some children boasted of being spanked, but she never did. To speak in that way was unthinkable. A spanking was not just an unpleasant experience, one of the hazards of childhood to be endured and made light of. It was intimately woven into the very fabric of her life.

Individual acts of naughtiness were but an expression of her sinful nature. Her mother had been less concerned to correct naughtiness than to confront her wilfulness and, by regular and consistent discipline, to induce a spirit of compliance.   By the age of six, Cordelia was in no doubt that obedience was required both by her mother and by God; and that disobedience was the gravest of sins.

But breaking her will and rendering her submissive had been a long and difficult process. The baring of her flesh for the rod had been deeply shameful to her, but even more shameful had been the ignominy of being broken and reduced to sobbing tearful submission. It was that, above all, that had made her strive to keep secret her mother’s discipline. She had had no wish for other children to probe her disgrace and cause her to relive that burning shame.

But so deeply embedded in a child’s heart is self-will that it can never be completely rooted out. The strict demands made upon her revealed her weakness and her inability to live in complete obedience to her mother’s law; and the spankings she continued to receive marked her out as a sinner, and taught her that only through suffering could forgiveness be bestowed. And, as she came to see, those were inestimable gifts to confer upon a child. As the Apostle Paul said, the law is a schoolmaster to bring us to Christ. And her suffering under her mother’s law taught her that although spanking restrained sin, the inner pollution of her heart, from which sin welled up, could never be truly cleansed by the chastisement of her own flesh. It required the chastisement laid upon the Son of God to achieve that. And so at the age of about sixteen, she accepted that Christ had died as an atonement for her sin and as the means of her sanctification.

And just as harsh unremitting punishment inflicted upon her as a child had restrained sin and led her ultimately to a divine forgiveness, so it would for her own children and, God willing, also for the reformatory boys in her charge.

At lunchtime, Diana Fairclough put her head around the infirmary door and suggested she should come and share sandwiches and coffee in her apartment.

“So what requires you to return to the reformatory this evening, Cordelia. I thought the staff covered evenings and night times.”

“They do, Diana, but I need to supervise the punishment of two boys. They were caught between the sheets, abusing themselves. I’ve already strapped the offending hands but tonight they’ll be going to bed, wrists tied to the rail and with something to remind them that getting into bedwith another boy is not something this reformatory will tolerate.”

Mrs Fairclough raised her eyes questioningly.

“And what will that ‘something’ be?”

“The juice from a hot chilli pepper squeezed over their genitals and rubbed well in. My mother used a chilli and wintergreen embrocation on my brothers and, believe me, it’s something a boy remembers.   At least for a while.”

Diana nodded.

“Yes.   Boys, I’m afraid, have short memories.   A sound spanking would bring about a remarkable improvement in Harry’s behaviour but all too often he’d be in trouble again before the oval marks of the hairbrush had completely faded from his bottom.”

Mrs Fairclough picked up the plate of sandwiches and offered it.

“But tell me exactly what you want me to do this evening.”

“Well, simply to supervise the children’s homework and bedtime. Most of the homework should be completed by the time you arrive. William goes up to bed at half past six and the two older ones at seven. And they shouldn’t be any trouble. But if they are you have my authority to spank them. I’ll tell them that, and leave the hairbrush on the side as a reminder.”

They chatted away for a while and Mrs Lavington was assured that Elizabeth’s tawsing during the morning was simply a classroom matter and the note she would be sending home late rwould raise no issues for her mother.

The door opened, and the Principal entered.

“Good day Matron. How nice to see you enjoying a short break. And sandwiches, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Indeed Sir. And excellent sandwiches there are.”

Diana stood up.

“James, Cordelia has just been telling me about a quite shocking incident. Two boys found in bed together masturbating. Cordelia is punishing them herself, but I am sure an example should be made of them. The whole reformatory needs to know that sort of behaviour will simply not be tolerated.”

Mr Fairclough sat down.

“You told me a short while ago, Matron, that you were running a campaign against masturbation in the dormitories. Is that still the case?”

“It certainly is, Sir. But it’s a campaign, not a battle. I’m not foolish enough to think masturbation can ever be completely eliminated. But the least we can do is to make boys realise they run the risk of severe punishment if caught. And to do everything possible to detect masturbation and punish it. I want every boy who’s tempted to abuse himself to stop and think, ‘Dare I run the risk?’And then, if we catch a boy, we’ll know he’s a brazen and shameless sinner, who ignores all promptings of prudence and of conscience.”

She paused.

“I hope, Matron, you were not reading an implied criticism in my question. That was far from my intention. I know from my own son that persuading a boy of the iniquity of masturbation and defeating the habit are like cleansing the Augean Stables. AndI am sure you are pursuing your campaign with the utmost dedication and zeal.”

“Thank you, Sir, I trust I am. And it was certainly my intention to report the two boys to you with a recommendation similar to Mrs Fairclough’s.”

He nodded.

“And who are the two boys?”

“Clough and Graham, Sir”

“Well, Matron, I will leave their immediate punishment to you, but when you judge it appropriate send them to me.”

Before Cordelia departed, Mrs Fairclough assured her that she would arrive no later than a quarter to six. And that she should have no worries about returning at any particular time.

. . .

It had become the practice over the years to employ four local women each evening to supervise the dormitories and oversee the boys preparations for bed. They were older women whose children had grown up and who welcomed the opportunity to earn a little pin money. A member of Mrs Lavington’s staff was always present to direct evening dormitory activities and to deal with any problems that arose.

“Who’s supervising Clough and Graham’s dormitory this evening, Susannah?”

“Mrs Rowbotham, Matron.”

“Then, please tell her that once the boys have washed and changed, they are to stand by their beds in their pyjamas.   With their hands behind their backs. And there is to be no talking. Once that has been done she is to report to the infirmary and may set off home a little earlier than usual.”

In each dormitory there was a large cupboard where clean linen was kept together with a few extra pillows. Each boy had on his bed a sheet and a blanket, increased to two blankets in winter. Their pillows were flock filled and rather bulky. In addition to linen, each cupboard had hanging on the back of its double doors, several canes and a leather tawse. The boys had no access to the cupboards which were securely locked with the key kept hanging on a hook in the infirmary.

If the boys had been talking they were certainly silent when the Matron and Susannah Simmonds entered. This was not surprising as the sound of their footfalls echoed up and down the corridor as they approached.Mrs Lavington waited a moment and then pointed to the boy standing by the bed nearest her.

“Well, Lewis, have you any idea why you’re all standing by your beds this evening instead of being in them?”

“N . . no, Matron?”

She pointed to another boy.

“And what about you McLeod? Any ideas?”

“No Miss . . . Matron.”

“Then, I will tell you. There are two boys in this dormitory whose hands I had to strap today.”

She pointed again to Lewis.

“And have you any idea what those hands might have been up to, Lewis? Where they might have been?”

“N . . . no, Matron.”

“Anyone?”

There was silence. Not a movement anywhere. But as she glanced at Graham, she noticed a slight twitch of his head.

“Then I will tell you. They had been inside a pair of pyjama trousers.”

She paused.

“And what do you think they were doing there? Lewis? Have you any idea?”

Lewis was bitterly sorry his bed was so close to where Matron was standing.

“Well, Lewis?”

He reddened.

“I . . . I don’t . . . “

Mrs Lavington put her head on one side questioningly, as the boy swallowed.

“I . . . don’t know . . . Matron.”

“I find that very hard to believe, Lewis. The answer is, of course, that each hand had been playing with a stiff little penis, stroking and rubbing it.

She smiled.

“And you didn’t know boys did that, Lewis? Well, I am most surprised!”

She watched as he writhed in his embarrassmentas matters any boy would wish to keep secret were exposed and openly spoken of. For a full half a minute she said nothing.

“Recently I have had to punish several boys for masturbating in their own beds, playing with themselves, abusing themselves.”

Again she paused.

“But the two boys whose hands I strapped today were not simply abusing themselves. No. They were in the same bed together.   Abusing each other. Playing with each other’s genitals.   Stroking and fondling them, until they both ejaculated.   Over their pyjamas and the sheets.”

She waited for a moment.

“Clough and Graham. Take two steps forward.”

Every eye turned as they moved, shamed and anxious, fearful of further punishment.

“So Lewis, show me where Clough’s bed is.”

He pointed.

“Over . . . over there, Matron.”

“And Graham’s bed? Where is that?”

Again he pointed.

“Th . . . there . . . Matron.”

“And if Graham was in Clough’s bed, as he was, how do you think he got there?”

Lewis bit his lip.

“I . . . I suppose . . . he walked . . . Matron.”

“Yes, I am sure he did, Lewis.   And in a small dormitory like this do you suppose other boys were aware of what he was doing? And of what the two of them were up to?”

She paused. And then spoke with a beguiling sweetness.

“Did you know, Lewis?”

He lowered his voice almost to a whisper.

“Ye . . yes, Matron.”

“And do you think the other boys knew?”

“Please, Matron. . . ”

“How dare you prevaricate, Lewis. Answer my question. Did the other boys in the dormitory know what was going on?”

He was tearful, driven to the edge of the precipice.

“Ye . . . yes, Matron.”

“Yes, of course they did. Everyone knew. But no one said anything. Each remained silent and allowed sin to flourish.”

She looked up and down the two rows of beds.

“A famous man once said that all that is required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing. And every boy in this dormitory did nothing. Each is as guilty of Clough’s and Graham’s sin, as they are.”

She looked up and down the two rows of small pyjama clad boys with their tense, anxious faces.

“So, the whole dormitory will be punished.”

Mrs Lavington stepped across to the cupboard and inserted the key. First, she took out a short but sturdy bolster, and placed it on the side table; and then reaching behind the door unhooked a swishy rattan cane, about three feet in length.

“Every boy will lie face down on his bed with his head to the end, and reach out and grasp the end bed rail. And no boy is to let go of that rail until permission is given.”

She nodded to Mrs Simmonds.

“And now Mrs Simmonds please would you pull each boy’s pyjama trousers down to his ankles, and ruck his top well up his back.”

There were sixteen beds in the dormitory, eight on each side. And it was not long before each had a small boy stretched out, with his bottom bare, exposed to the cool dormitory air.

“Each boy will receive twelve strokes across his bottom and thighs. Except for Graham and Clough. For them the punishment will be doubled.”

She swished the cane through the air.

“Mrs Simmonds, please would you take the bolster and place it under the stomach of the first boy to be caned.”

She pointed.

“We’ll start with Lewis. And slip the bolster down a little, please, Mrs Simmonds. Thank you. That’s lifted him nicely.”

She looked down the dormitory.

“And while I am applying the cane, Mrs Simmonds will be watching to see all remain silent and that each boy continues to keep his hands on his bed rail.”

Susannah Simmonds was deeply grateful to Matron for allowing her to accompany her to the dormitory that evening and to assist her.   From the infirmary, she would often hear the Matron’s measured tones of rebuke from the adjoining room and listen to the screams of boys being punished. She approved of the retribution exacted and took a grim satisfaction as boys with hot tear-stained faces were sent on their way through the infirmary.

She had brought up four children, two boys and two girls, and had been a strict mother. Like Mrs Fairclough she looked back with affection to the time when she had ruled her own children with the rod; and on those occasions when the Matron permitted her to spank a boy, as she had with the boy Simpson, she welcomed the opportunity and administered the punishment with a slow, lingering relish. And although she had hoped she might be permitted to cane some of the boys that evening, she was not unduly surprised when it was apparent this was a duty Matron had arrogated to herself alone.

She glanced up the dormitory. As a medieval baron stands at his board with an assortment of roasts before him, and sharpens his knife on the steel, so did Mrs Lavington stand, running the cane through her hand. The baron might have three or four joints to carve, but here there were sixteen soft tender rumps to slice. She felt a little flicker run through her as Mrs Lavington stepped forward.

(to be continued)

(The End)