Cordelia Lavington Chapter 42

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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Cordelia Lavington Chapter 42

By Governess

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Mrs Lavington picked up the cane and made her way to William’s room.   She had been in her study reading and pondering on Eugenia Strang’s book for almost twenty minutes.   As she mounted the stairs she wondered whether the boy had heeded her command to undress and to stand face to the wall in just his pyjama top. It wouldn’t have surprised her to find him seated on the floor playing with some toy and in need of yet further correction.   And she was relieved to find him obediently standing as he’d been instructed, his pyjama top barely covering half his bottom.

“And how long have you been standing there, William?”

“F . . . from when I came up . . . mother.”

“Is that true?

“Please, yes, mother.”

“I hope you’re not lying. You know what happens to liars, don’t you, William?”

“No, mother, no. It’s the truth. On my honour.”

“Turn around and face me”

He did so, pale and anxious.

“It gives me no satisfaction to have to cane you again before bed and to have to do so again in the morning before school. But it’s necessary. You do understand that, don’t you, William?”

She paused.

“And why is it necessary? Why do I have to cane you twice more when you have already been caned.   And caned severely? Well?”

He bit his lip.

“I’m waiting for an answer, William.”

“Be . . . because, I lied.”

He lowered his voice.

“And . . . and was rude.”

He cast his eyes down.

“Yes, William, you were spanked for neglecting your Bible reading. You’ve been caned for lying about that, pretending you’d read it when you hadn’t. And now you are to be caned for your second lie, for saying you hadn’t lied when you had.   For each lie you need to be punished.”

She paused.

“You do understand why, don’t you, William?”

He was almost on the point of tears. His mother sat on a chair and pulled him towards her and then wrapped an arm tenderly around his small pyjama clad body.

“Let me explain, William. It is one of God’s laws that when we are naughty we have to prove how sorry we are by accepting a punishment for what we’ve done wrong.   Only then is God able to forgive us. And what he forgives is each individual act of naughtiness. So we have to be punished for each one so that each may be forgiven. And it’s a mother’s duty under God to do that.   To punish you in that way. So you can be forgiven. Do you understand?”

“Bu . . . but what happens if you . . . you don’t punish me.”

His voice dropped away.

“It . . . it hurts so much, Mama.”

She wrapped her arm more tightly around him.

“But I must punish you, William. If I don’t punish you, you can’t be forgiven and your sin remains.   And if a sin isn’t forgiven, then instead of being judged and punished by me, you will be judged and punished by God and that means when you die you’ll go to Hell and that is a terrible place where you will be punished forever.”

“But . . . but, Mama, Jesus has forgiven everyone . . . hasn’t he?”

“No, William.   Jesus has not forgiven everyone. He died for everyone and he broke the power of the Devil and defeated him. But each of us must want to be forgiven and come to him. And when you are older, and have grown in understanding, it is my greatest wish that you’ll do that. That you’ll come to know Jesus as your Lord and Saviour.   But even then if we sin, there is always punishment. The punishment that grown-ups receive is often very harsh. If they choose bad things then bad things happen to them to make them aware of the wrong they have done.   But you are a child, and are rightly sheltered from the punishments that life can bring to a grown-up when he’s greedy and selfish and disobeys God.   As a child, God has set me, as your mother, to rule over you, to give you a law that you must keep, and to punish you for every sin you commit.   In that way, you can be forgiven and made acceptable to Our Heavenly Father.

She paused, still holding him to her.

“It may be difficult for you to believe, William, but when I punish you, it is done in love. In whipping you I am loving you. I am teaching you right from wrong. I am breaking your will so that you submit to mine and open your heart to forgiveness. And forgiveness will never be withheld.”

The seriousness with which she spoke frightened him and he buried his head in her lap.   Then, he looked up at her, his eyes wet and his brow furrowed.

“B . . . but does it have to hurt so . . . so much?”

She drew him closer and he could feel her softness beneath his head.

“I’m afraid punishment has to hurt, William. It’s no good just tickling a boy’s tail.   He’ll inwardly smile and be grateful that he’s avoided a proper punishment.   No, punishment has to be painful. It has to break his will and take him to the very limit of his endurance. Then, when his mother sets the rod aside he is so grateful that the torment has ceased that he is ready to submit to her will and to promise obedience and declare himself ready to be forgiven.”

“And . . . and if he doesn’t”

She smiled.

“Then there is still work for the rod to do.”

She kissed him again, and stood up. In the corner of his bedroom was a low stool. She picked it up and placed it at the end of his bed.

“Kneel before the stool, William, and bend across it. And place your hands flat against the floor.”

He whimpered as he did so, his small flat stomach pressed against the seat as he knelt on his hands and knees.   His mother flexed the cane, appreciating once more its limber strength. She bent down and rucked his pyjama top up his back. As the first stroke cut into his already tortured flesh, there could be no doubting her commitment to his discipline. The boy roared as the tormenting pain radiated throughout his body and then slowly dissipated like the ripples on a pond. He waited, his breathing rough and anxious; and yet in the waiting there was the promise of the end that was not yet in sight. The next stroke was like a burning wire searing into his bottom.

In her room Elizabeth lay in bed, her head raised from the pillow, listening to the muted howls of her brother. The tip of her tongue moistened her lips, while her hand was pressed against her pubic bone as she caressed herself.   That her brothers’ punishments aroused her was simply accepted as a fact, and she felt no guilt about it.   That William had been soundly caned already and was receiving further strokes on an already wealed and tender bottom stirred no compassion in her. Rather, there was a desperate urge to creep out and peer into his room, for her mother always left the door ajar on such occasions. But she knew better than to risk being discovered out of bed. William’s screams of agony reached a new pitch and then there was silence. She imagined him clutching at his bottom, quietly sobbing from the pain and humiliation he had suffered.   And then she remembered that her mother had promised him a further caning before school tomorrow. That thought, as she stroked and caressed herself, brought on the delicious shivery feeling that she loved so much. She rested her head back on the pillow and snuggled into it and soon fell asleep.

Mrs Lavington after settling William down, retired to her little study. She had left him sobbing inconsolably. She had kissed him goodnight and reminded him that there was a further caning to be given in the morning.   He had pleaded with her to be spared further punishment but she had shaken her head.

“No, William.   Remember what I said. Only when you have been whipped for each sin can you be forgiven. You do want to be forgiven, don’t you?”

“Ye . . . yes, Mother.”

But as she sat in her study she wondered whether she should spare him the severity of the caning she had just given. Perhaps she should apply the strokes with less vigour. But that would make a mockery of the punishment and would, by the same token, be mocking the God who had commanded parents to apply the rod not just to signal disapproval but to cleanse from evil. And as the Book of Proverbs clearly said it was the blueness of a wound that did that. She picked up her Bible and began to read.

Upstairs in bed, William lay on his stomach. His cheek pressed against the dampness of his pillow, wet from his tears.   He reached round with his hand and ran his fingers over his bottom. It was sore to his touch and he could feel the swelling and ridges raised by the cane. He knew he’d been naughty and deserved to be punished, and he felt a certain relief that for the moment it was over. He relaxed and soon fell asleep. And he was unaware of his mother gently lifting back the bedclothes as she examined his wealed bottom and thighs.

The following morning Cordelia awoke early.   The sun was shining through a crack in the curtains and she got up and drew them. Then, she dressed and went downstairs. She made a pot of tea and two slices of toast and looked at the clock. Already she was anticipating the thrashing that William would be given before school. Although she had considered whether to deal with him less severely, she was now firmly resolved to make no concessions to his already welted flesh.   She would lay on the cane as it was meant to be laid on: hard, swishy strokes that reduced a boy to shuddering, tearful submission.   And it was only flogging that humbled a boy in such a way, that tore out the core of his self-will and rendered him compliant. And yet like some evil boil the core was never completely removed and the remedy of the rod needed to be applied again and again.

She decided that she would cane the boy as she had the night before, kneeling over the stool. Entering his room she found him already awake.

“Out of bed, William. And take off your pyjama trousers.

Reluctantly he undid the cord and they slithered down to his ankles, leaving him bare and exposed, flushed and biting his lip.

“Step out of them, William and hang them over the end of the bed. And down to the living room, please.”

She picked up the stool.

“You’ve another trip to take over this, William.   In case you’d forgotten.”

But he hadn’t forgotten. Indeed, he had woken from a disturbed sleep in the early hours of the morning, sobbing, his face and pillow wet with his tears. In his dream, he had been sent by Mrs Fairclough to his mother for not reading his Bible story. And this time it was the story of Noah and the flood. His mother had sent him back to Mrs Fairclough with a note asking her to punish him.   He thought he was going to be birched but instead she had placed a tin bath before the whole school and made him lie in it completely naked. His head was resting on the bottom of the bath and he was fastened by the ankles to one of the handles that were at each end. Looking up, he could see the rafters of the school hall far above him. Then Mrs Fairclough had said in a clear voice

This boy has disobeyed his mother and not read about the flood that God sent to punish wickedness. He must be drowned himself.

And then one by one all the boys in the school formed a long queue, and each emptied a full bladder into the bath in which he was secured. He retched at the bitter sickly smell, and slowly the level rose and there was a roaring sound in his ears.   It had reached his mouth and nostrils, and he was choking and drowning. He screamed for his mother. And she came, lifting him out of the bath, hugging him and kissing him.

But you must be punished, William. There has to be punishment

And there was a terrible yowling and two grey cats were circling around him.

These cats are from the Ark of Noah, William. They have come to punish you and save you.

And he was over the stool, wet and naked, and the cats leapt at him. One was on his back scratching and clawing at his exposed bottom, reaching down and tearing at his anus, while the other was sinking its claws into his thighs and ripping the skin off in long strips. The blood was running down his urine soaked legs and he was in a frenzy of agony.

No, mother, no . . . . please no.   I promise to be good. I’ll never be bad again. Please, no . . .

And as he turned to look at his mother, he saw she had the face of a cat.

He had woken crying and fearful, but as he recognised the furniture in his bedroom, there was an indescribable sense of relief that the nightmare was over. Yet terrible as the nightmares of sleep may be, they are insubstantial and ghostly, and leave the flesh unmarked; but the flogging he was to receive that morning would raise weals that would be visible for many days.

His mother followed him downstairs with the stool. Elizabeth and Samuel were already in the breakfast room reading their Bibles. She opened the door more widely and did the same for the living room door, so that both children could hear their brother being punished.

She picked up the cane that she had left across the armchair ready for the morning’s work. Looking at her son, she flexed it demonstrating its punishing power.

“And why are you receiving a dozen cuts of the cane before breakfast, William? I hope you can remember.”

She waited, as he choked back his tears.

“Then, let me help you. You’ve been soundly spanked for neglecting to read your Bible story, and caned twice for lying. So what is this caning for? What is it teaching you?   Well?”

“N . . . not to be rude . . . mother.”

“Yes, not to be rude. And how were you rude?”

“I . . . I argued with you and answered back.”

“Yes.   And why is that wrong? Why does a boy need to be caned for being rude to his mother and answering her back?”

And she recalled what she had read earlier that morning by Miss Strang:

For a small boy, his mother’s word is the source of his life within the family, and disrespect for her role of law-giver is a grave sin that strikes at the very heart of God’s providential love for him.

“Well, William?   Why is it wrong?”

“Is it . . . I suppose because . . . because you’re my mother.”

His voice trailed off and he hoped desperately that he had given something like the right answer.

“Yes, William.   Because I’m your mother. Just as God rules the world, so I rule you. Just as God has given us a law, so I give you a law to govern your behaviour. And just as God punishes sinners, so I punish you.”

She paused.

“And just as we honour God for his love and care for us, so must a child honour his mother. And if he is rude or disrespectful and dishonours her, then he must be punished to teach him respect, respect for her and for the God who put her in authority over him.”

She pointed to the stool.

“On all fours across the seat, please, William.”

He backed away, whimpering. His mother’s eyes narrowed and her face darkened.

“I said over the stool, William.”

Still he hesitated, and taking him by the scruff of the neck she forced him down. He kicked and screamed.

“No, no. I won’t. I won’t.”

She lifted him up and gave him two resounding slaps across his left cheek.

“How dare you defy me.   If ever a boy needed to be stripped naked for punishment, it’s you, William.   Take off your pyjama top.”

Tearfully, he undid the buttons and removed it. She took it from him and placed it over the arm of the chair. And with hot angry tears he allowed her to guide him back over the stool, and in shameful vulnerability he lay there sobbing quietly.

“You are an ill-disciplined boy, William who must learn to submit to authority. And I know how to teach that lesson, believe me.”

She rested the tip of the cane against his anus. It was cold and he trembled with fear, dreading what she might do. Now the cane was underneath his tight little scrotum, and he drew in his breath sharply.   He was defenceless and exposed, with all thought of resistance driven out.

She raised the cane and brought it swishing down. He screamed and pulled his body up, kneeling and clutching at his bottom.   She stepped to the open door and called through.

“Elizabeth! Come here please.”

She came in looking anxious, wondering whether her mother had discovered some reason to cane her, too.

“Elizabeth, William is bucking about like a young colt that has still to be broken. While I apply the whip to his flanks, I want you to straddle him and hold him down. Can you do that?”

Elizabeth was suddenly breathless.

“I . . . I think so, mother.”

“Good.”

She tapped the stool with the point of the cane.

“Bend over, William.”

She turned to her daughter.

“And you can choose how to straddle him, either facing forward of back.   Either way will keep him down. And make sure he doesn’t reach back with his hands.”

Elizabeth flushed as she stepped across him, facing his bottom so that she could see each stroke of the cane as it was laid on. She could feel the warmth of his back against the tops of her thighs.

“Reach down and hold his arms, Elizabeth.”

The girl felt a tremor pulse through her as her mother swept back the cane and brought it down with a terrifying whoosh across her brother’s bottom. The stool was low and she was straddling him in a crouching position. She lifted herself slightly supporting herself on her legs so that her bottom and thighs were more sensitive to his squirming. Whoosh went the cane and he bucked and roared beneath her and the friction between her legs felt good, even though she was wearing school knickers.

She looked up at her mother as the cane was raised again, and their eyes met. Although not quite ten, Elizabeth was old enough to appreciate that for her mother flogging William was not an unwelcome chore. It was a task embraced with an enthusiasm that saw virtue in the infliction of salutary pain. Her mouth was dry and she was finding it difficult to swallow as she watched her brother being beaten.   Never had she been so close to a boy’s bottom when he was being disciplined. She felt an excited sick feeling in her stomach as stroke followed stroke, and the boy writhed beneath her, rubbing against her and giving her a feeling even more wonderful than when she stroked herself in bed.

By the end, several of the cuts had opened up previous weals and Mrs Lavington made the sobbing boy lie across the arm of the chair to have Zam-Buk ointment applied to the broken skin. He was then ordered upstairs to dress and told to put on an extra pair of underpants.

“And I want to speak to you before breakfast as soon as you come down. So wash and dress quickly.”

She turned to her daughter.

“Thank you for helping me, Elizabeth.”

She smiled.

“Perhaps you’d like to go upstairs and tidy yourself before finishing your breakfast.”

When William reappeared, Cordelia could see that he’d made an effort to present himself in a neat and tidy fashion. Apart from his eyes being a little red and swollen, no one would have guessed the boy had been punished so severely.

“Good boy for not dawdling and for looking so smart.”

She lifted her head slightly.

“I am sure you know what I want to speak to you about.”

He hung his head.

“Yes, mother.”

“So what is it.”

“It’s . . . it’s the way I was before . . . before you caned me.”

“Yes, William. It showed disrespect and a lack of self-control that is inexcusable. And only a few moments after I had told you how important it is for a boy to respect his mother at all times. It simply cannot be overlooked. You will be punished and punished severely. At a time of my choosing.”

He was close to tears.

“Pl . . . please, Mama, will I be spanked?”

“I’ve not decided yet how to punish you. For now you’d better read your Bible story book and have your breakfast. We must leave for school in half-an-hour.

(to be continued)

(The End)