Cordelia Lavington Chapter 49
By Governess
[email protected]
Copyright 2017 by Governess,
all rights reserved
*
* * * *
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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“Mary release the boy and Matron will examine
your ear.”
The boy slipped to the floor. The enormity of
what he had done and fear of the consequences had quietened him. He had
been
grinding his teeth between each agonising stroke, and then screaming at
each
cut penetrated with its searching pain. In truth, he had scarcely known
what he
was doing. He stood against the wall with his hands by his sides his
cheeks wet
with his tears.
“The ear has been marked by the boy’s teeth,
but
there is no bleeding.”
The Principal nodded.
“Are you happy to continue, Mary? Or should we
put him over the buck for the rest of his flogging?”
Mary held her ear.
“No, Sir. I can continue, if that would be
best.
But I don’t want him biting me again, Sir.”
“There will be no more biting, I promise you
that.”
He stepped across to a corner cupboard and
opening it, took out a wad of cloth about the size of a rolled table
napkin,
together with a narrow length of material. He handed them to Mrs
Lavington, as
he took the birch from her.
“When you have muzzled the boy, Matron, take a
fresh rod from the pail.”
He watched as Mrs Lavington inserted the wad of
cloth between the boy’s teeth, instructing him to bite on it, and then
stretched the strip of material across his mouth and secured it tightly
at the
back of his head. The Principal smiled.
“Bend forward, Mary, and Matron will hoist him.
And
hold him firmly. Just above the elbows.”
He was pale and terrified, swallowing
desperately, fearful of choking with the gag filling his mouth. Mary,
when a
younger girl, had herself been horsed and flogged at the orphanage. And
now
listening to the swish of the birch and feeling the boy kick and writhe
as she
held him, it was as though she herself was suffering once more the
agony of
being flogged on her bare exposed flesh. And his pain became for her an
inward
writhing pleasure.
Mrs Fairclough watched intently as the fresh
lithe twigs were swept remorselessly down. She felt no shame at the
pleasure
she was experiencing. God had given the senses to be enjoyed. To eat to
excess,
to offend God by your greed, was shameful. And to take pleasure in
gratuitous
and unmerited suffering was an abhorrence. But suffering that was just
and
proportionate and inflicted to break a child’s servitude to sin was
quite
different. There justice and love coalesced, and her deep sensual
satisfaction
was a sharing in the joy of heaven as the child was remorselessly
driven toward
repentance.
After two dozen strokes Mrs Lavington paused.
She
knew there were only another twelve strokes to give and she was
reluctant to
bring the flogging to an end. She stepped back. The boy’s small firm
buttocks
were raw and wealed and small droplets of blood had trickled on to the
tops of
his thighs. She had no regrets about the flogging. Some might have
regarded it
as cruelty but not Mrs Lavington. Cruelty had no purpose but the
selfish
satisfaction of the one inflicting the pain. But this boy’s punishment
was
administered for his own good, to teach him a valuable lesson in
obedience.
The infliction of pain ws nether moral nor
immoral. All depended on circumstances and motive. A doctor who had to
amputate
an arm on the battlefield without anaesthetic caused terrible pain; but
his act
was justified by his concern to save a life and to restore the one who
was
injured to health and well-being. And flogging a disobedient child was
no
different. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she administered the final cuts.
“Mary, let the boy down. Stand over there,
McCourt, with your face to the wall.”
He stood heaving and sobbing, unsure whether
his
ordeal was over. Mrs Lavington looked at the Principal.
“We have still to determine, Sir, how to punish
the boy for biting Mary’s ear? I hardly think that muzzling him is a
sufficient
response. That was an act of kindness to protect Mary and to prevent
his
offending again.”
“And what would you propose, Matron?”
She felt a tremor in her diaphragm at the
opportunity to sentence him to further punishment.
She
remembered the occasion when Edward Atkinson in the next cottage to
theirs had
bitten his mother as she was leading him inside by the ear for
chastisement.
Cordelia had been playing with him and his brother, until Mrs Atkinson
had
caught sight of Edward throwing stones. She had a vivid recollection of
all
that followed. Her immediate response to his bite had been a series of
hard
stinging slaps to his face that immediately quietened him.
‘Come
inside, Cordelia, and I’ll show you how boys who bite are dealt with.’
Cordelia
had always been a little afraid of Mrs Atkinson for she rarely smiled,
but the
thought of seeing Edward punished overcame any reluctance. She knew
that both
he and his brother were spanked for she had heard Mrs Atkinson and her
mother
speaking about it. But as they entered the kitchen, Mrs Atkinson took a
cane
from a hook behind the door. Cordelia’s eyes widened.
‘Mr
Hairbrush has a lot to teach a boy, but there are some lessons that his
friend,
Mr Whippy Cane is better at teaching. Isn’t that so, Edward?’
Edward
was biting his lip.
‘I
said, isn’t that so, Edward?’
‘Ye . .
. yes, Mother.’
Mrs
Atkinson placed a low stool in the centre of the kitchen.
“Off
with your trousers and pants, Edward. And kneel over the stool.’
He went
down on all fours, his stomach resting on the seat, and his mother
rucked his
shirt and vest high up his back. And with slow measured strokes the boy
was
flogged. Cordelia remembered her amazement at his fortitude. He
screamed like a
small animal caught in a trap but not once did he attempt to rise or
wriggle
out of position. Even at her young age Cordelia recognised that he had
been
well-trained and that opposition was pointless and would result in an
even
worse punishment. She remembered wondering what that might be.
The cane
was pencil thin and enormously limber. It might have been swished
lightly
across bare flesh to redden the surface of the skin and impart merely
an
unpleasant stinging sensation. But that was not how Mrs Atkinson used
it. Cordelia
felt a sinking feeling in her stomach at each whoosh of the cane. She
watched,
scarcely breathing, as it cut through the air and sliced into the boy’s
soft,
firm flesh. After two dozen strokes, he was heaving and sobbing and the
stone
flagged floor was wet from his tears.
‘Stand
up, Edward.’
He did
so, his head bowed and his hair damp and dishevelled.
‘Look
at me.’
Slowly,
reluctantly, he raised a hot, tear-stained face.
‘You
know you are forbidden to throw stones. Normally, you would have been
spanked
for such disobedience. But a boy who resists his mother needs to learn
a lesson
that only the cane can teach.’
She
paused.
‘And as
you have chosen to bite like a dog, you will be treated like one. And
this is
not the first time, I have had to put a collar around your neck and put
you on
lead. Is it, Edward?’
‘No,
Mother.’
He
looked down, his eyes feeling with tears. He would have the leash
fastened to a
hook low down near the floor, and would have to crouch, shivering. If
he was
lucky he might be allowed to keep on his short cotton vest. And like a
dog, he
would have to eat and drink from a bowl. And go nowhere unless
permission was
given. Once when he had needed to go to the lavatory, he had been
refused, and
had gone on the stone flags of the kitchen floor. He had had his nose
rubbed in
the mess like a naughty puppy before having to clear it up himself.
When
the collar was around his neck and the leash had been attached, she
handed the
end to Cordelia.
‘But
first, our new little doggie needs to be taken for a walk. You will
walk him
down to the village, Cordelia.’
Cordelia
could hardly believe what she was being asked.
“But .
. . but Mrs Atkinson, he’s only wearing a vest.’
‘Don’t
be silly, Cordelia. He’s a little dog. He’s lucky to have a shirt and
vest. Most
dogs don’t wear clothes at all.’
She
went to the kitchen range and took a wooden spoon from a stoneware jar
at the
back.
‘And as
dogs like to carry something in their mouths, you will hold this
between your
teeth Edward. And if you drop it, I’ll be spanking the backs of your
legs with
it when you return.’
She
nodded.
‘And if
anyone asks what you are doing, Cordelia, just you tell them he’s
bitten his
mother like a little dog.’
Please,
Mrs Atkinson, my mother will wonder where I’ve gone.’
‘No
need to worry, Cordelia, I’ll tell her. Now off your go.’
Cordelia
remembered that walk. She was just twelve and Edward was her junior by
about
five years. He was small for his age whereas she was tall, and that
accentuated
her sense of authority over him. Looking back, she realised that it was
then
that she knew she wanted to be a mother with children of her own to
discipline.
‘Come
on, Edward, don’t dawdle.’
And she
gave a pull on the lead.
‘No,
Cordelia, don’t.’
He was
speaking with the spoon between his teeth and his voice was strange and
distorted.
‘Please,
Cordelia. I don’t want to go to the village. We can hide in the garden.
Mother
needn’t know. You can tell her we went. Please.’
Cordelia
felt a constriction in her chest.
‘You
mean I’m supposed to lie. To tell your mother a lie. Is that what you
are
asking?’
He was
whimpering now and crying. He nodded and bit his lip.
‘That
would be very wrong, Edward. I am not going to do it. When we get home,
I will have
to tell her you tried to get me to lie. And what do you think she will
do,
then?’
They
walked on with him crying bitterly, dragging his steps and being told
that his
reluctance would also need to be reported.
‘And I
wouldn’t like to be in our shoes, Edward. Not one little bit.’
As they
entered the village, they met Mrs Graham coming out of the Post Office.
She was
pushing a perambulator and beside her were two children a few years
older than
Edward.
‘And
what may you be a-doing, young Cordelia? And Master Edward Atkinson in
only a
shirt. And on a lead like a little dog.’
‘Please,
Mrs Graham, he bit his mother when she was taking him into the house to
spank
him. And then she asked me to walk him down to the village.’
‘Bit
his mother! I never heard such a thing. Well, I can see now why he is
collared
and on a lead and carrying something in his mouth.’
Edward
was red with embarrassment, and then had to suffer the humiliation of
Mrs
Graham’s lifting his shirt and examining his bottom.
“Well,
his mother’s done more than spank him. He’s been given a good caning
that’s for
sure. I haven’t seen a bottom like that since I was a girl and my
brothers were
caned.’
She
bent down and gave Edward’s bottom a hard slap. He gave a sharp scream
and
twisted away. And the wooden spoon clattered on to the cobbles.
“Hot
and sore is it, Master Edward. And so, it should be.’
She
smiled. And picked up the spoon and handed it to Cordelia.
‘Makes
me think I should be getting a nice rattan cane for these two, the way
they’ve
been behaving recently. Turn around Master Edward and let Robert and
Christopher see what the cane can do to a boy’s bottom.’
And she
gave his bottom another slap.
‘And
how was Master Edward caned, Cordelia? Was he turned over the sofa arm?
That’s
the way my brothers got it.’
‘Please,
Mrs Graham, he had to kneel on all fours over a stool.’
Mrs
Graham nodded.
Well, I
can see from his bottom that your mother knows what she’s about. No
point in
tickling a boy. When my brothers were caned, it was well laid on. And
did they
roar. Well, let me not detain you. You’d best be continuing your walk.
But meeting
you and Master Edward has certainly given me something to think about,
that’s
for sure.’
Cordelia
led him a bit further into the village and although the pair of them
attracted
a few glances nothing more was said. As they returned Cordelia made
Edward take
the wooden spoon once more between his teeth. She smiled.
‘What
was it your mother said about the spoon, Edward?’
‘She .
. . she said I was to bite on it and not let it . . . drop.’
‘Yes. Not
to let it drop from your mouth. And did you? Did you let it drop from
your
mouth?’
‘But it
was because Mrs Graham smacked my bottom where it hurt. I didn’t mean
to. Please
Cordelia.’
‘Well,
all I remember is that she said if you let the spoon drop she would
spank you.’
‘Please
Cordelia, don’t tell her. My bottom hurts so much.’
‘I
don’t think she was going to spank your bottom. She said she would
smack the
backs of your legs.’
Cordelia
paused, relishing the power she had over the boy.
‘And
then there is trying to get me to lie. I don’t know what she will say
about
that.’
‘Please,
Cordelia, don’t tell her.’
‘I’ve
told you already, Edward. I am not going to lie for you.’
She
gave a tug on the lead.
‘Come
on. We’re nearly home.’
Mrs
Atkinson had seen them approaching and opened the door.
‘Thank
you, Cordelia. I hope you enjoyed your walk, Edward. I see you still
have the
spoon in your mouth.’
She
tilted her head back, eyebrows raised.
‘And
did he behave himself, Cordelia?’
Cordelia
felt Edward stiffen. She knew he was hoping beyond hope that she would
spare
him.
‘Well,
Mrs Atkinson.’
‘Yes,
Cordelia?’
‘Well,
he tried to make me not go into the village but to pretend we had. And
. . .
and to tell you we had gone even though we hadn’t.’
Mrs
Atkinson raised her eyebrows.
‘Is
this true, Edward?’
His
voice was low and hopeless.
‘Yes,
mother.’
‘Is
there anything else, Cordelia?’
‘Well,
we met Mrs Graham, and . . . and she talked to us and Edward dropped
the spoon
out of his mouth. And then he tried to get me to lie about that.’
‘And
why was that, Edward? It was surely possible to speak without dropping
the
spoon. And if there was the risk of dropping it you should have kept
quiet. I
am sure Cordelia could have explained your predicament.’
‘But
mother Mrs Graham, she smacked my bottom and it hurt and I . . . I
dropped the
spoon. I didn’t mean to. Please mother.’
‘I
cannot see why a smack on your bottom meant you had to cry out. It was
quite
unnecessary. There is no excuse for dropping the spoon. And none for
lying.’
Cordelia
watched as she made the boy stand facing the wall and about two feet
away from
it.
‘And
now lean forward and support yourself against the wall with your hands.
Come
on, Edward, you’ve been punished like this before. You may be a little
dog but
you are not learning a new trick.’
She
picked up the wooden spoon and smacked it against her palm.
‘And if
you collapse in a sorry heap, we will simply have to
start again from the beginning. So just show a little fortitude and try
and
learn from the punishment.’
She
turned to Cordelia.
‘And
what is he learning, Cordelia?’
‘I . .
. I suppose to do as he’s told.’
‘Exactly,
Edward. To do as you are told. And not to make silly excuses.’
Cordelia
watched as the spoon was raised and its hard wooden back smacked down
raising a
smarting oval mark on the boy’s soft thigh flesh. As when he had been
caned, he
protested vocally, but made no attempt to resist. Cordelia was counting
the
strokes and when the spoon was set down he had received a total of
twenty
strokes to each thigh. He was sobbing and choking but was made to stand
back to
the wall that he had just faced for his punishment.
‘And
now Edward there is that other little matter that we have to deal with.
Indeed,
not a little matter but a very serious matter. What am I talking about?
Well?’
He
managed to curb his sobbing although still in obvious distress.
‘I . .
. I tried to get Cordelia not to take me to the village.’
‘Yes. You
tried to persuade her to go against my word. And what else?’
‘I
wanted her to lie about it. Please, mother, I’m sorry. Please don’t
punish me more.’
He was
crying quietly now, tears of fear and desperation. His face was wet and
his
eyes red and swollen. Cordelia felt sorry for him, but her sorrow was
not of
the sort to wish to see him spared the punishment that was his due.
Mrs
Atkinson looked at her.
‘Well,
Cordelia how would your mother punish a small boy who had done what
Edward had
done? Would she let him off with a warning? He has already been
punished
severely. What do you think she would do?’
‘I . .
. I don’t think she would let him off, Mrs Atkinson. The punishments
you’ve
already given him are for different things. This is for telling lies
and my
mother would say he needed to be punished for it so he can be forgiven.’
Mrs
Atkinson nodded.
‘But
perhaps she would punish him less severely because of the earlier
punishments?’
Cordelia
shook her head.
‘No,
Mrs Atkinson. I don’t think she would. She’s never done that.’
Edward
was listening to this exchange biting his lip and standing forlornly in
his
shirt which was still rucked up over his shoulders.
‘So
you’re a sensible girl, Cordelia. How do you think he should be
punished?’
Cordelia
felt a small animal stirring in her chest. She wanted to appear
grown-up and
make a suggestion that would commend itself to Mrs Atkinson, and one
that would
mean the boy would be given a further punishment.
‘Well,
Mrs Atkinson, Edward was caned for throwing stones when you had told
him not
to, and then spanked for being careless and dropping the spoon. But
trying to
get me to do wrong and then lie about it seems a lot worse to me. So, I
think
he should be given a really hard punishment.’
‘I
agree with you, Cordelia. And what do you suggest?’
Cordelia
took a deep breath, almost frightened to make a suggestion.
“Well,
Mrs Atkinson, I . . . I think I would cane him where you have just
spanked him
with the wooden spoon. And . . . and make him stay like a little dog
for the
rest of the day,’
Mrs
Atkinson smiled.
‘I can
see you’re going to be a strict mother when you grow up, Cordelia. A
caning on the
backs of his already sore legs would
be
a most appropriate punishment. What do you think, Edward?’
She
ruffled his hair affectionately. His breathing was quick and shallow.
‘Please,
no, Mother. Please. I’m sorry. Truly, I am.’
‘I’m
sure you are sorry. All small boys are sorry when they
face punishment. But Cordelia’s mother is right, Edward. If you are
truly
sorry, you will accept your punishment so you can be forgiven. And what
you did
in trying to get Cordelia to lie, was very wrong, and because of that
the
punishment needs to be a severe one. Cordelia perhaps you would fetch
the cane
from its hook behind the door.’
She became aware of James Fairclough speaking
to
her.
“I was asking, Matron, what you would propose
for a boy like this who bites like an ill-trained puppy.
(End of File)