Cordelia Lavington Chapter 3
By Governess
Copyright 2009, 2010 by Governess, all rights reserved
* * * * *
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.
* * * * *
Chapter 3
Mrs Lavington brought the hard wooden back of the hairbrush down on her daughter's soft, slack thigh flesh. It flattened under the brush and then quivered like a smacked jelly. Elizabeth screamed. A shrill roar of agony, as the tender flesh smarted under the stroke. The bottom of a child loses some of its sensitivity over the years by being constantly sat upon. But the thighs are different. They retain their sensitivity. And there a sharper lesson may be taught. And rudeness demanded such a lesson.
It was not that Cordelia Lavington had an over-developed and prickly sense of self-worth. The suggestion that a child's rudeness or disrespect could upset her personal equilibrium would have been judged ridiculous. A nine year old was not to be taken so seriously. She might be listened to and accorded the respect due to her age, but all that she said and did was subject to the final ruling and arbitration of her mother. Rudeness was simply a folly that needed to be corrected.
The Book of Proverbs summed it up neatly.
"Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction shall drive it far hence."
As The Book of Proverbs made clear, the animals were wise and obeyed naturally, but not so children.
The ants are a people not strong, yet they prepare their meat in the summer.
The conies are but a feeble folk, yet make their houses in the rocks.
Nobody told them to do these things. They just followed their God given instincts. But a child's instinct was to assert itself against maternal authority. To disobey. To act foolishly. And unlike the animals of the wild, a child had to be trained and corrected.
Mrs Lavington smiled. She enjoyed being a mother, bending her children to her will. Driving out the foolishness bound in their hearts. Applying the rod of correction.
And there was something particularly satisfying in driving the rudeness and disrespect out of a child. She had often wondered why this was. Why it gave such pleasure.
Further strokes were applied to the backs of her daughter's thighs and a frisson of pleasure went through her at the sound of the girl's desperate screams of agony.
And it was, she had concluded, because rudeness and disrespect were the breeding ground of sin. And where they were present, the rampant weeds of self-will would grow and before long all that was good in a child's life would be choked to death. And uprooting self-will gave the same pleasure as clearing a garden bed of ground elder or bindweed. When that had been done, the earth could again be productive. Flowers could grow and vegetables be planted for the kitchen. And similarly, when rudeness and disrespect had been driven out of a wilful child, and a mother's authority re-established, then that child could again flourish and grow in grace. And how satisfying and pleasing was that to a mother's heart.
Stroke upon slow remorseless stroke was placed upon Elizabeth's quivering thigh flesh. Her screaming was seamless now, as seamless as the robe of Christ. One long roaring scream of pure agony.
After two dozen such strokes, Mrs Lavington stopped and waited.
"Are you ready to seek forgiveness, Elizabeth?"
After a while the screaming abated to be replaced by heartrending sobbing. After a while, the girl regained sufficient composure to stutter a reply.
"P . . .please forgive me, mother. P . . . please. I'm sorry. Please don't spank me any more."
Mrs Lavington smiled. She loved to see a child capitulate before her will, and relished the tears and stuttering pleading for forgiveness. But forgiveness was not merely given in exchange for the suffering a child had endured. The suffering brought a child to the gate of paradise, but the key had to be turned, and a step taken across the threshold. There had to be a willingness to pass through. There had to be evidence of true contrition.
"But are you truly contrite, Elizabeth?"
"Ye . . yes, Mother. I am. Truly."
"Stand up."
Elizabeth wriggled off the sofa arm and stood before her mother. She shivered.
"But how can I be sure of that, Elizabeth? How can I be sure that your seeking forgiveness is not hollow? Just empty words to escape further punishment."
Elizabeth was desperate now. How could she convince her mother that no further spanking was necessary? She was as tense and alert as a small nocturnal animal.
"Please mother, I'm really sorry."
"And contrite?"
"Yes . . . yes, mother. I'm contrite."
"And what does contrite mean, Elizabeth?"
The girl hesitated. She opened her mouth and then shut it. She hung her head.
"I . . . I'm not . . . not sure, mother."
"You are not sure. And yet you tell me you are truly contrite. How can that be, Elizabeth?"
"I . . . think it means that I am sorry for what I did?"
"Yes, that is part of it. But not all. I have to say I am disappointed. If I have explained what a contrite child is once, I have explained it half a dozen times."
She pursed her lips. And the wooden back of the hairbrush was again smacked across her palm.
"Well, we had better go through it once more and this time spank it well in."
"Please, mother, no. Please."
Her mother's voice was sharp.
"Elizabeth, in a moment, there will be more to spank in than just the meaning of contrition."
The girl bit her lip.
"You know what hangs in the hall, don't you?"
The reply was subdued and barely audible.
"Yes, mother."
"And what is it?"
"The cane."
"Yes. The cane. Which I am very ready to use if necessary."
She paused.
"So are you now ready to go through, once again, the meaning of contrition? And how important that is?"
"Yes, mother."
"He mother narrowed her eyes and paused, before continuing.
"First, a contrite girl is sorry for what she did. That at least you seem to have grasped.
"Secondly, it means that the girl accepts, and accepts willingly, whatever punishment is necessary so that she may be forgiven.
"Thirdly, it means that she intends to make every effort not to sin in the same way again."
The girl was now crying, soft, wet tears of hopelessness.
"And why are your crying?"
"I . . I'm sorry, mother."
"A child who is contrite, Elizabeth, has nothing to cry about. Contrition opens the path to forgiveness. That is why it is so important that you understand this."
She stroked her daughter's head, running her hand through the soft brown hair.
"So we had better make sure that you do."
She sat on the arm of the sofa and drew her daughter towards her.
"Let us go through it again this time with the hairbrush."
She stretched her left hand across Elizabeth's back and bent her forward.
"And remember, Elizabeth, an important part of contrition is accepting whatever punishment is necessary to correct and set you on the right path."
She raised the brush and brought it down with a dull smack across the girl's right buttock. And as she did so she spelt out the meaning of contrition, spanking first one bottom cheek, then the other.
A . . CONTRITE . . CHILD . . IS SORRY . . FOR WHAT . . SHE DID
The girl gasped and writhed.
A . . CONTRITE . . CHILD . . ACCEPTS . . HER PUNISHMENT
"No, mother, please."
"I suggest you listen and learn Elizabeth. Let me repeat,
A . . CONTRITE . . CHILD . . ACCEPTS . . HER PUNISHMENT
And finally,
A . . CONTRITE . . CHILD . . WILL . . TRY . . NOT . . TO . . SIN . . AGAIN."
The girl was now sobbing unrestrainedly. Her bottom quivered and contracted, clenching and unclenching. Mrs Lavington waited. After a minute, she felt the child go limp, all resistance spanked out of her. She eased her gently into an upright position and hugged her. She spoke in a voice that was now warm and gentle.
"So tell me what is contrition?"
Slowly the sobbing abated.
"It's . . . it's being sorry for having been disobedient."
"Yes, and . . . ?"
"It's . . . it's accepting my punishment."
"Yes, and . . . ?"
"And . . . and its trying not to disobey again."
"Yes, Elizabeth. That is better. That is well remembered. And what were the sins for which you were spanked and for which you are now truly sorry?"
"N . . not listening to Mrs Fairclough. And . . . and being . . . rude."
Her mother smiled.
"So in future you will listen attentively to Mrs Fairclough and there will be no more surly and rude behaviour when you are upbraided or corrected. Is that right?"
The girl hung her head. She felt limp and lifeless, and yet also peaceful.
"Yes . . yes, mother."
"Good."
Her mother lifted the hem of the nightdress and let it drop from her shoulders, covering the shameful marks on the girl's bottom and thighs.
"And now let us say prayers before bed."
Elizabeth knelt on the wooden floor, pulling up her nightdress to take the strain out of the material. Her mother lightly placed her hands on the girl's head.
Almighty and loving Heavenly Father, we thank you for all your goodness towards us. For home and food and the warmth of family life. We thank you, too, that Elizabeth has confessed her sins and has accepted the chastisement due to her. That she is truly contrite and has been forgiven. Help her to understand that the forgiveness she has received is not just a mother's forgiveness but also the forgiveness of her Father in Heaven. And that the suffering she has endured is a sharing in the suffering of His Son who loves us and gave himself for us. Amen.
The girl moved her weight from one knee to the other as she gave her own assenting Amen to the prayer.
"And now upstairs to bed. And lights out straightaway. No reading, please."
As the girl left the room, through the soft material of her nightdress, the redness of her smarting flesh could be clearly seen.
(To be continued)