Cordelia Lavington Chapter 47

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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Having dismissed Hammond, Mrs Lavington sat at her desk and reflected on her conversation with Diana Fairclough. She had expressed reservations about the severe welting William had received. But in truth she had no real misgivings about the severity of his punishment for she believed wholeheartedly in the benefits of firm and consistent discipline. It was not that she was seeking encouragement or reassurance. It was rather to hear the echo of her own deepest conviction from the lips of another.

Sometimes she could become almost breathless at the thought that children were increasingly being spared the rod of correction. That a demonic sentimentality was sweeping the world, and that the kingdom of darkness that needed to be confronted with strength and resolution was gaining ground.

And how cunning was the Devil in persuading parents that children were innocent and without sin, and that to punish them was an affront to God. How often had she heard it said that Jesus was against chastising children because of his saying that if anyone offended a child it were better that he should be thrown into the sea with a millstone around his neck. How the Devil could twist Scripture to his own ends, just as he had done in Jesus’s own temptation. The offence to a child was to spare him chastisement or to provide chastisement that was a weak and inadequate response to wrongdoing. And when Jesus set a child in the midst of his disciples and told them “of such is the Kingdom of Heaven” was he saying that children were sinless? Of course not! Rather that they needed to relate to their Heavenly Father as a child relates to those in earthly authority over him: with a fearful respect, striving to obey and willing to learn from discipline.

The welts she had raised on Hammond’s and McCourt’s flesh were a visible sign of the corrective love of God administered by her in accordance with his living word. And how wonderfully the spirit and the will were knit together with the fleshly body. The spirit and the will expressed themselves through the body. In song and laughter, through tears and touch. And on earth we were as Saint Teresa had said the hands and feet of Christ.

Christ has no body but yours

No hands, no feet on earth but yours.

Yours are the eyes with which he looks

With compassion on this world.

Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good.

Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.

Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,

Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

And it was with our physical body that we disciplined a child’s will through the infliction of bodily pain. And we comforted his spirit afterwards by holding his body to ours. Both were expressions of compassion. The harsh discipline as much as the ensuing comfort.

She picked up a pencil and taking a sheet of paper made a list of the things she had yet to accomplish. At the top was

1. Resolve how best to punish William for his tantrum

She twisted the pencil in her fingers as she thought. Diana had considered it entirely appropriate to revert him to the chamber pot, and believed she should discuss with Howard Greaves the use of the pot in the classroom. But surely the best way around the classroom conundrum was to tell Howard that if William wished to use the lavatory he was to be sent to her and she would have him sit on the pot in the corridor outside the infirmary. That would be shaming and humbling enough without upsetting anyone other than the boy himself. But that punishment arose from his earlier tantrum, his writhing on the floor like a two year old, completely out of control. For his more recent refusal to cooperate, Diana had suggested a more thorough reversion to a two year old’s status. She twisted the pencil between her fingers. The pot certainly, but also the wearing of a nappy at night; having to sit obediently at her feet in silence when his brother and sister were free to play; and being fed his food like a baby. She smiled. That, imposed for a week, would be a severe discipline.

Then she wrote the next task.

2. Write to James Fairclough about McCourt and Hammond.

She opened a drawer and took out a sheet of notepaper, and putting down the pencil, picked up a pen.

Dear Principal,

This morning Miss Harris sent to the infirmary two boys, McCourt and Hammond, whom she had caught fighting in the corridor outside my office. McCourt had a bruised knee with a superficial abrasion and Hammond a cut face. They were patched up and both were then soundly spanked for wasting the infirmary’s time and resources. Hammond disgraced himself by urinating on the floor and was additionally caned. He has also been given a series of painful enemas both to assist with an impacted bowel and to provide further discipline. I was hesitant whether to refer them to you in view of the punishment they had received at my hands, but do so in view of your clearly expressed wish that boys caught fighting in the corridors should be sent to you for punishment – or in this case further punishment. If they are to be birched, I am very happy to assist if you thought that appropriate.

Yours,

Cordelia Lavington

Matron

She folded the note and inserted it into an envelope and sealing it placed it edge up against the back of the desk. She then added a third task to her list.

3. Take steps to curb Samuel’s masturbatory habit

She frowned and pursed her lips. She knew that a practice that was so urgent and so overwhelming could only be curbed by severe punishment capable of inducing a holy fear in the boy. But Samuel had not yet reached an age when the satisfaction of ejaculation was accompanied by a seminal emission. That made discovery that much more difficult. However, even when a boy had seminal emissions, he soon took steps to hide the evidence. Most boys were initially both dirty and careless, masturbating on to their pyjamas or sheets, and leaving tell-tale wrinkled marks where the semen had dried. Then, when they had paid the price of such carelessness, they would masturbate into a rag and then tuck it away unwashed at the back of a drawer. When that had been discovered and they had been severely whipped, only then would they start to masturbate over a hand basin or lavatory pan behind a locked door. So for both an immature boy and for a devious older boy, similar measures were required: constant vigilance, reducing wherever possible the opportunities for sinning, and most importantly frequent interrogation to awaken guilt and to force a confession.

As a girl she had shared a room with her older brother and remembered the thrill of listening to him masturbate in his bed. She would then threaten to report him to their mother, but would often wait for several days before doing so. How she had relished his anxiety and her own nervous anticipation of the flogging to come. Sometimes she would decide not to betray him, knowing that in doing so she was encouraging a futile hope of reprieve on the next occasion. She smiled, and wondered whether Elizabeth, if she shared a bedroom with Samuel, would behave in a similar way.

She picked up the letter she had written to the Principal and went into the infirmary.

“Ann do you think you could take this down to the Principal. It concerns Hammond and McCourt.”

James Fairclough was prompt in his reply which arrived before lunch.

Dear Matron,

Thank you for your note about Hammond and McCourt. I am pleased you referred the matter to me. There is too much fighting and misbehaviour in the corridors and, as you know, I am eager to stamp it out. However, in view of the very thorough punishment Hammond has received at your hands, I propose to delay his punishment for a few days. That will allow his currently wealed flesh to heal a little before he is punished again. However, I see no reason to delay McCourt’s birching and I should be grateful if you would accompany him to my study at three o’clock this afternoon.

It would also be most gratifying if you could remain afterwards and take afternoon tea with Diana and myself.

With every good wish,

James Fairclough

Principal

Cordelia felt a frisson of excitement at the prospect of witnessing McCourt’s flogging. She knew that Diana was sometimes present when a boy was birched, and that it was largely through her advocacy that the practice had been so swiftly reintroduced when her husband had been appointed principal.

At half past two, she sent for McCourt.

“The Principal wants to see you McCourt. Stand with your back to the wall and your arms by your sides. And do not move.”

She continued to write at her desk for several minutes, and then looked up.

“Have you been birched before, McCourt?”

“P . . . please, Matron. No.”

“Well the Principal will certainly birch you for fighting in the corridor. Do you know what a birching is, McCourt?”

All he knew was that it was something that happened to very naughty boys and was best avoided.

“I . . . I’m not sure, Matron”

“You were not here when that absconder, Burgess, was birched, were you?”

He looked down biting his lip and shaking his head.

“Then let me warn you that Mr Birch is no friend of small boys. He is made from four or sometimes six switches cut from a birch tree. The leaves are stripped off and the twigs bound together leaving a whippy end that is swished across a boy’s bare bottom until it is covered in blood and he is hoarse from screaming. And you will be pleased to know that the long smarting weals that are left will be visible for several weeks as a reminder of the need for obedience.”

She paused.

“And all because you did not heed the Principal’s rule not to fight in the corridors. It may seem a dreadful punishment for something that to you is not that important. But you see, McCourt, the rules are not set by what you think is important. They are set in accordance with what the Principal judges to be necessary for the smooth running of this reformatory. And if you choose to disobey the rules and to show contempt for his authority, then that is a very serious matter. And you will be birched.

“You will stand in the corner for the next twenty minutes, facing the wall, and then I will accompany you to the Principal’s office.”

She sat at her desk, but she found it difficult to concentrate. She looked across at the small eight year old boy in his grey shirt and short grey flannel trousers. Soon they would be stripped off and his bottom bared for his flogging. She smiled, remembering again the words of George MacDonald

God’s nature is always to forgive his little ones and there is no extreme of suffering to which for the sake of destroying the evil in them, he would not subject them.

She looked at the clock.

“Time to go, McCourt. It will be painful, but my advice is to try and learn from it. Learn that you must obey rules even if you see no sense in doing so.”

She put her arm around him and shepherded him out of the room, out through the infirmary, and down the corridor. She knocked at the door and on hearing the Principal’s ‘Come in’ entered. He rose to greet her.

“Punctual as ever, Matron. And with McCourt.”

He beckoned to the boy.

“Come here, boy. Do you know why you are here?”

He looked close to tears.

“Ye . . . yes, Sir.”

“And why is that?”

“T . . . to be punished . . . Sir.”

“And what are you being punished for?”

“F . . . for . . . fighting in the corridors . . .Sir.”

“Yes, McCourt. For fighting in the corridor. Foolishly outside Matron’s infirmary.”

He turned to Mrs Lavington.

“And you have punished him yourself, Matron. For wasting your time when you had better and more important things to do. Is that right?”

“Yes, Sir. McCourt is here to be punished for breaking your rule forbidding running and fighting in the corridors. And I have warned him that he may expect to be punished very severely indeed.”

He looked at the small boy shifting nervously before him.

“Lower your trousers and remove them, together with your underpants. And place both neatly over the arm of the chair.”

He pointed to one of the two green leather armchairs. The boy slipped off his braces and did as he had been told, standing half naked before them.

“And now off with the shirt and tie. And turn around, boy. Let me see how effectively Matron has punished you.”

The boy turned, red with embarrassment, shivering and yet pale with fear.

“I can see the boy has been soundly spanked, Matron. And how many strokes was that?”

“Thirty, Sir. With the back of my hairbrush.”

The Principal propelled him round by his shoulders and placed his fingers under the boy’s chin, forcing his head back.

“And was it painful, McCourt that spanking with Matron’s hairbrush?”

He turned to Mrs Lavington.

“Was this the boy who disgraced himself, Matron? Who wet himself like a baby?”

“No, Sir. That was Hammond. McCourt simply disgraced himself by showing little or no fortitude in the face of adversity.”

“Well, an eight year old boy who cannot take a spanking without blubbering for his mother is hardly likely to win any plaudits for courage when he is birched.”

He looked at the boy.

“You do realise, McCourt, that you are going to be birched, and birched severely. Matron has explained that to you?”

“Yes, Sir, he knows what to expect.”

“Does he indeed. Have you been birched before, boy? No, let the boy answer for himself, Matron.”

“N . . . no, Sir. I . . . I don’t think so, Sir.”

“You don’t think so. Never had those tough leathery twigs swished across your bare flesh until you were roaring in agony. Never looked in a mirror afterwards and seen those long bloody weals cut across your bottom. No?”

He paused breathing in deeply.

“Oh, you would know if you had been birched, boy.”

He looked as Mrs Lavington.

“Every boy remembers his first birching. And why? Because it cuts and marks his soul, as well as his flesh.”

He looked at the quivering boy.

“Stand outside the door McCourt. I wish to speak to Matron.”

The boy went, shamed at having to stand in the corridor wearing only a short vest, with his bottom bare and his small immature genitals exposed. The Principal turned to Mrs Lavington.

“I intend that McCourt’s first birching should be something to learn from. Matron. A smarting memory that will give him cause to be obey unquestioningly in future.”

He paused.

“I remember the first time I was birched at the age of nine. I had been sacked from my prep school, a penalty that should have fallen on another boy for I was innocent of the iniquity of which I was accused. But he was believed and I was not. My parents were horrified. Rather than enrol me in another school, they appointed a governess who was instructed to work me hard, paying particular attention to my moral welfare. Whenever I fell short she was to apply the rod unstintingly. She had a warmth about her but also a firmness and determination that told me she would not hesitate to provide the discipline required. Nor did she. I recall the first moment I was introduced to her.

‘This is Miss Ravenscourt, James. She is your new governess, and she will be responsible not only for your lessons but for all that you do. She will rule over your whole day from your rising in them morning until bedtime. She has the authority to admonish you and to discipline you.”

“I was then left with her. I remember vividly her first words to me.

‘I understand you are a boy in need of discipline, James. In my book there is no effective discipline without punishment, and the best punishment for a boy of your age is the birch.’

“She pointed to the corner.

‘In that bucket there are two birch rods. Bring one to me, please.’

“I did so and she swished it through the air. I watched mesmerised.

‘Were you caned at school, James?’

‘Y . . . yes, Miss Ravenscourt.’

‘And how were you caned, James?’

‘I . . . I’m not sure I understand, Miss Ravenscourt.’

‘I am asking, James, where the cane was applied. To what part of your body.’

‘T . . . to my bottom, please, Miss Ravenscourt.’

‘To your bottom. And what were you wearing when the cane was applied to your bottom?’

“I could feel my face hot and damp under her interrogation.

‘We . . . we were caned over our school trousers, please, Miss Ravenscourt.’

‘Over your school trousers. You mean over the grey flannel shorts you wear throughout the day?’

‘Yes, Miss Ravenscourt.’

‘And did the cane hurt when swished across the seat of your shorts?’

‘Please, yes, Miss Ravenscourt.’

“She smiled. A smile I was to become all too familiar with.

‘But not as painful as it would have been if swished across your bare bottom?’

‘I . . . I suppose not . . . Miss Ravenscourt.’

‘Well, let me tell you that the birch is always administered to a boy’s completely bare bottom. When I kiss a boy goodnight, I kiss him directly on the lips. I do not place a piece of cloth between his lips and mine. He wants to feel the softness of my lips expressing my love for him. And when I express my love by birching him, it cannot be done through clothing. He needs to feel the sharp pain of each stroke correcting his wrongdoing and opening the path to forgiveness. To do otherwise would not be love but an empty, useless gesture. Tell me, James, when you were expelled from school were you first flogged for your disgraceful behaviour?’

‘N . . . no, Miss Ravenscourt.’

‘Well I am surprised. I can understand their not wanting a perverse boy like you to continue at the school. But to leave your sin unpunished seems quite extraordinary.’

“She smiled.

‘But that can easily be put right. Best to start with a completely clean sheet, I think, James.’

“And my nether garments were removed and I was flogged.”

At that moment, the door opened and Mrs Fairclough entered.

“I see you have a boy standing outside in the corridor James in a state of some undress. I take it he is to be punished.”

“Yes, Matron, caught him fighting in the corridor. He is to be birched.”

(End of File)