Miss Strang Chapter 12
By Governess
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Copyright 2008 by Governess, all rights reserved

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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.
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Chapter 12

Miss Strang passed the birch to her left hand and placed the other hand firmly on John's head, as though affirming her right to inflict whatever discipline she judged necessary. She ruffled his hair, almost affectionately, although I am sure it stirred no expectation of remission.

"John, you have been both spanked and caned. Neither seems to have brought about the improvement I am looking for. Your rudeness, and your insolence, your slovenliness and your lack of effort, all make it necessary for me to take a further step in severity."

She paused, letting her words sink in.

"The birch is capable of reducing the hardest and most insolent boy to submission. And I am sure you are no exception."

By now I could see John was breathing with shallow anxious breaths. He had seen the birch's horrifying suppleness and its punishing power, and was steeling himself, waiting for it to leap voraciously at his bottom. Miss Strang waited, too, letting his anticipation become ever more acute. He was holding his breath, tensing himself.

"Stand up John."

He lay over the arm panting.

"I said stand up," she repeated.

Slowly, he wriggled backwards and dropped to the floor, his nether garments bunched around his ankles.

"Turn round."

He hobbled sideways, still visibly anxious, not knowing what to expect. She smiled wanly.

"John I have decided that you have been punished enough for one day. I will postpone your flogging until tomorrow morning before school. That will give you time to reflect on why a flogging is necessary. And time, too, to make a firm resolve to learn from it and to make amends. Until then you are in disgrace. You will not speak unless given permission to do so."

She turned.

"And Livia and Simon, please do not speak to John as that may tempt him to reply. Do you both understand?

We both nodded.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

She turned back to John, still standing by the chair, and looking desolate and forlorn, as does any small boy in a state of dishevelment with his trousers and pants around his ankles.

"John, remove your trousers and pants and hang them neatly over the back of the chair, and return to your desk."

He did so with a strange weariness that was quite unlike him. The remainder of the afternoon was spent on mathematics.

When, towards the end of the day, our books had been tidied away, Miss Strang turned to John.

"And now, John. I want to help you make the most of the opportunity that will be given you tomorrow. We will have an early supper, after which you will go straight to bed. And please remember that you will not speak during supper unless spoken to by me. And neither Simon nor Livia are to address a word to you."

She looked at us.

Is that understood?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

John did not look too pleased at being sent to bed before Simon, but Miss Strang chose to ignore it.

"John, come and stand in front of my desk."

John got up. He was obviously acutely aware of being without trousers and pants, although his shirt tail hung discreetly over his bare bottom.

"John, tell me, why are you facing a flogging with the birch rod tomorrow morning?"

John hesitated, even though I could by now recite the reasons, having heard Miss Strang reiterate them several times.

"Because . . . because I was rude . . . and didn't try hard enough at my composition . . . Miss Strang."

"Yes, that is a good start, John. And what you wrote? How did I describe that?"

"You said it was slov something. And . . and it was not long enough . . . Miss Strang."

"The word is 'slovenly', John. Slovenly. Your work is slovenly. Do you know what 'slovenly' means?

"I . . I'm not sure, Miss Strang."

"A boy who is slovenly is a boy who cannot be bothered to take care. Who is too lazy to be bothered. Who takes no pride in what he does."

She paused.

"So let us go through it again. You will repeat after me. I am a rude little boy. Repeat it.

"I am . . . a rude little boy.

"I am a slovenly little boy. Repeat it."

"I am a slovenly little boy."

"I am a lazy little boy. Repeat it."

"I am a lazy little boy."

"I am a disobedient little boy. Repeat it."

"I am a disobedient little boy."

"And tomorrow I am going to be flogged by my governess with a birch rod. Repeat it."

"And tomorrow . . ." He swallowed. "And tomorrow, I am going to be . . . "

She prompted him, " . . . flogged by my governess with a birch rod."

He swallowed again, "flogged by my governess with a birch rod."

"And who is your governess, John?"

"You . . . you are, Miss Strang."

"Yes, John, I am your governess. Do you know why I am called a governess?"

John shook his head, his eyes glistening with tears.

"A governess, John, is one who governs small disobedient boys. Do you know what 'govern' means?"

"No, Miss Strang."

She paused. John hung his head, trying to hide his tears and the look of desperation on his face.

"Do you have any idea how painful a birching is, John? Well?"

"No, Miss Strang," he whispered.

She smiled.

"No I am sure you do not. But tomorrow you will. Tonight I am going to hang this rod in your bedroom. It will be the last thing you see at night and the first thing you see in the morning. You are being sent to bed to reflect on how you have displeased me, and to make a firm resolve to become a better boy. I want you to make a firm commitment to do all you can to learn from the flogging you are going to receive tomorrow. It will be painful. But I want you to remember, John, that it is not just something to endure, to be got through, but something to learn from. It is a real chance for a new start and new behaviour."

She still had the birch in her hand. She walked over and placed it on her desk.

"Livia please will you go to the cleaning cupboard along the corridor. In it there are several large earthenware storage jars. Take out two and fill them with water, about half full and bring them to the schoolroom. You may have to make two journeys."

When I had fetched the jars, she stood the remaining birch lengths in one jar and the rod itself in the other.

"And now Livia, I am sorry to use you as an errand boy again, but will you run down to Mrs Mountfield and tell her that we are to have an early supper. Ask her if it can be ready in half an hour."

On my return, John was nose to the wall, and Simon was writing out and learning his spellings. Miss Strang suggested that I might like to fetch my diary and start writing it up. After a while, I could hear Mrs Mountfield laying the supper in the adjoining room. When she had finished she looked into the schoolroom.

"I just wanted you to know, Miss Strang that supper will be ready whenever you ring for it."

I saw John stiffen.

"Thank you, Mrs Mountfield. You are probably wondering why we are having an early supper. It is because John is in disgrace and being sent to bed early."

She looked toward John.

"John, turn round and tell Mrs Mountfield what is happening before school tomorrow."

Any child hopes that a discreet veil may be permitted to cover the shameful details of his discipline. John was no exception. As he turned, even the tips of his ears were a bright red. He bit his lip and looked down at the floor, no doubt wishing that it would, as floors are expected to do in such circumstances, open up and swallow him. Although his shirt tail covered his bottom, there was nothing in the front adequately to hide his small penis and scrotum.

"John, you have my permission to speak. Please tell Mrs Mountfield what is to happen tomorrow before school."

"I . . . I am going to be . . . flogged . . . Miss Strang."

Mrs Mountfield nodded.

"And if I may say so, Miss Strang, not wanting to speak out of turn, it's about time too. Boys of his age need a good birching from time to time. He and Simon have run wild for the past year what with the mistress being ill. It is a blessing that you've come and are taking them in hand. We all say so."

She coughed and looked a little embarrassed at speaking so frankly.

"That is all right Mrs Mountfield. Taking boys in hand is something that I have no problems with. Over the coming months, I can promise there will real improvements in all the children's behaviour."

She paused letting Mrs Mountfield know that no more need be said on the subject.

"Well, I think we are probably ready for supper, if you are ready to bring it up."

She turned to John.

And please remember, John, that you are in disgrace. You will not speak unless I give permission. And Livia and Simon please respect that. No talking to John. He is in enough trouble as it is."

(To be continued)