Miss Strang Chapter 29
By Governess
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Copyright 2009 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 29

Miss Strang went to fetch Simon for breakfast. She was some time and I listened attentively. Before long I could hear the sound of a small boy being spanked. The sharp cries and the steady remorseless smacking of bottom flesh reverberated up the corridor from behind his half open door. When she returned she was holding him by the hand. He looked flushed and distinctly miserable. He was no longer on the leash and I surmised that the spanking had been given to mark his restored freedom. A warning of what would transpire should he not heed the lesson to obey Miss Strang's word and not wander into mischief.

After breakfast Miss Strang spelt out the plan for the day.

"This morning we shall be in the schoolroom. I am aware that we have not yet had a history lesson and my intention is that we shall make a start with William the Conqueror. There should also be some time for spelling and arithmetic."

She paused.

"And this afternoon will be free time when you can play in the fresh air and amuse yourselves. However, John and I will be having a little time on our own and I may want Livia to help me with that. You Simon may play outside. I am sorry that John and Livia will not be able to join you, but you must make the most of it. A seven year old boy should be able to find plenty to do on his own."

She looked at John.

"John eat sensibly, please. I do not wish to see you making such faces. If you are wondering, Simon, why John is having difficulty eating his breakfast, it is because he was caught out in a bad lie. And I have had to soap out his mouth. He is no doubt finding his food tastes unpleasant."

When we had finished breakfast, we went into the schoolroom and the morning unfolded much as Miss Strang had planned. We all worked hard and no one incurred her displeasure. I glanced at John from time to time and I could see the anxiety written on his face, but strangely this seemed to stimulate him to a greater effort with his lessons.

Lunchtime came and I felt a mounting excitement at the prospect of the afternoon. I was deeply curious at what Miss Strang had in store for John. And a sense of importance at being told I might be needed to assist her.

Before Mary came to clear the table, we had been sent back to the schoolroom.

"Simon you may dress in suitable clothes for outdoors. Livia will supervise that. You John are to stand facing the wall until I am ready to deal with you. We shall wait until Livia returns."

When Simon had been dismissed and sent to play in the grounds, Miss Strang told me to fetch the long basket that had been used to gather the lengths of birch. She went to her desk and produced a brown paper bag. I recognised it as the one she had acquired in the hardware shop in town. She removed from it two pairs of cotton gloves. These were the sort that I had seen Mr Mountfield wear for cleaning the silver. She handed me a pair.

"Put these on, please, Livia."

She herself put on a slightly larger pair. And then took from the desk the clippers that had been used to cut the birch.

"Now John you will please accompany Livia and me down towards the wood."

I was mystified by the need for gloves but dutifully followed her, as did John. He, too, looked puzzled but unlike my puzzlement, his was, I could see, tinged with anxiety.

We went through the gate into the meadow and walked along the hedgerow.

"There, Livia, just what we want."

She pointed down to a thick clump of nettles. They were tall and had those strange withered looking flowers with their dull unattractive scent. They looked rather evil.

"Now Livia, we want a good quantity of these and quite a few long ones. John, set the basket on the ground and as I hand you the nettles put them in neatly, please."

She started to cut the nettles, choosing tall ones, and cutting them close to the ground. As she cut them she handed them to John who took them gingerly.

"Ouch, they are stinging me, Miss Strang."

"Of course they are, John. They are stinging nettles."

"But . . . I haven't any gloves."

She went on picking the nettles and handing them to John who took them with studied carefulness but was unable to avoid getting stung. The long basket was soon filled to overflowing.

"Livia would you run these back to the schoolroom and tip them on to the table. And then bring back the basket for some more. We need a good quantity for what I have in mind."

After the second basketful of nettles had been gathered we made our way back to the house. John was rubbing his hands on his trousers as though this would wipe away the sting. He looked anxious, aware that the nettles were to be used in some way to punish him.

As I walked beside Miss Strang, I felt short of breath. A mounting excitement took hold of me at the prospect of seeing John punished for his self-abuse. I was unsure what lay ahead but was certain that John would be finding it extremely unpleasant.

When we were back in the schoolroom, John was told by Miss Strang to remove all his clothes except for his vest. He was then made to stand facing the wall by the clock.

"Now Livia, let us begin. First, we need six sturdy stalks."

With her gloves still on she selected six that she judged suitable. She then placed three one way and then three the other. This meant that at each end there were three stiff hairy stinging stems, together with three leafy heads, the back of each leaf itself smothered in stings. Miss Strang then fetched some string and bound the stalks together about six inches from each end. The result was a short, stiff rod of nettles. She held it up and looked at it.

"That will be excellent, Livia."

I was puzzled.

"But Miss Strang, why did we collect so many nettles?"

"You will see. Livia. Please go and fetch the chamber pot from the washroom."

I brought it and it was placed on the floor beside Miss Strang's desk. She then proceeded to fill it with nettles until they overflowed the top. They rose in a solid mass, well above the rim, a mound of green stinging stems and leaves.

"John, turn round, and come here, please."

He did so. And although he must have been vaguely aware of what was in store for him, the sight of the green stinging mound on which he knew he had to sit was enough to render him pale and reduce him to a nervous stammer.

"No . . . p . . . p . . .please, Miss Strang. I'm sorry. Please . . . no . . . Please."

She stepped across and put her hand around him and rested it firmly on his shoulder, propelling him toward the chamber pot.

"You will sit. And you will sit now. You must learn, and learn quickly, that masturbation is a most serious matter. I do not allow it. And the prohibition is for your own good. At your age masturbation is particularly dangerous. It must be stamped out, and stamped out it will be. This is the first remedy I employ. And if that does not work, then there are others. Now sit."

He was beginning to cry, tears of desperation and fear. But anger, too, at being forced to do something so much against his will. He lowered himself on to the nettles. And gave a moan and then a howl as the sharp, stinging irritation built up, and his bottom and the tops of his thighs started to smart and burn with an icy, agonising fire. He instinctively started to rise, but Miss Strang gently pressed him down.

"No, John. You will stay there until I give you permission to move."

She spoke calmly and firmly. After a while she went to the table and picked up the little rod of nettles. I held my breath. John was crouched on the chamber pot, quietly sobbing, desperately trying not to move and agitate the nettles beneath.

"John, bend your legs outward, please. I said bend your legs outward. I will not repeat myself."

Slowly he splayed his legs apart and a gap opened up between them and created an opening into the chamber pot. I watched as she slowly inserted the stiff rod of nettles between his legs and drove it down deep into the pot. She left it there and it protruded like an enormous leafy green phallus.

"And now John, you will take hold of it and rub it up and down, just as if you were masturbating with it. But unlike the masturbation of this morning, it will not be as pleasant."

I could see that John was suffering terribly from the smarting, pricking irritation on his bare bottom. So full was the pot with nettles that some must already have stung his little scrotum and penis, but now as he rubbed the nettle rod back and forth between his legs, he began to scream in real earnest. I could imagine the nettles with their tiny hairs, pricking and needling his most sensitive places, injecting their sting like thousands of small ants, eating him alive. I wanted to touch myself between my own legs, as I watched him inflict on himself such a cruel and agonising mockery of the very act for which he was being punished.

He was now rubbing the nettle rod almost mechanically, sobbing almost in rhythm as he did so. After several minutes, Miss Strang stopped him.

"That is enough for the moment, John. Livia take it from him."

I pulled out the nettle rod and held it in my still gloved hand. As John had rubbed it back and forth over his genitals, it had disturbed the mass of nettles on which he was sitting, moving them and causing fresh ones to chafe against his bottom and thighs, adding to his agony.

"Stand up, John."

John eased himself up from his crouching position on the pot. He was sobbing desperately. But the realisation that he was to be allowed up, calmed him a little. Miss Strang waited.

"I . . . I . . . am sorry, Miss Strang."

I am sure you are, John. It would be a grave disappointment to me if you were not."

She reached into the chamber pot and put her gloved hand into the nettles, stirring them up and lifting them so that they were refreshed. She then walked over and picked up a large handful from those that remained on the table and placed them on top of those on which John had been seated. John watched in horror.

"Seat yourself again, please, John. And you will remain there for the rest of the afternoon. Every so often, the nettle rod will be placed between your legs so that you can rub it against yourself. Do you understand?"

John understood too well and began to sob uncontrollably.

"And you can stop crying. I have already told you, this is being done for your own good. At your age masturbation is not only morally reprehensible but positively dangerous. The sooner we break you of the habit the better."

She gave a little frown.

"Livia and I have better things to do than sit here with you all the afternoon. I am trusting you to stay on the chamber pot. You will not rise from it unless you are given specific permission. And if when I return there is any evidence that you have moved, you can expect further punishment. And that, I assure you, would be even more disagreeable."

She turned to me.

"Come Livia. We must make sure that Simon is not getting into mischief."

(To be continued)