Miss Strang Chapter 47
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 47

At Miss Strang's command, I wriggled off the chair and stood before her. The warmth of her body now a faint memory.

"And you will stand up straight."

I felt suddenly vulnerable and exposed. And rather frightened. She stared at me with a penetrating look that boded ill. After a long brooding pause, she gave her judgment.

"I have decided, Livia, that from now on you will masturbate only with my permission. Even in bed. You are a girl who has the urges and compulsions of a boy. And such illicit cravings must be overcome. Hopefully, the shame of having to seek my permission will act as a deterrent to such behaviour. But if caught secretly indulging yourself, without having first obtained my permission, then you may expect at the very least that your hands will be strapped raw. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

I felt a panic rising within me at such a prospect.

"But Livia, I do not want this in any way to come between us. Sometimes a girl of your age needs to be punished, and punished severely. But that is done out of love and concern. I am not rejecting you, however harsh the punishment. I am helping you, through punishment, to reject behaviour that is sinful and shameful. If you were a boy, I would have no hesitation in forbidding all masturbation and ruthlessly searching out and punishing every infraction. But I am dealing with you as a girl. Helping you to free yourself from the bondage of schoolboy lust and self-indulgence. I hope you understand."

"Yes, Miss Strang."

My mind was full of questions. But questions for myself. How was I to cope when the little serpent stirred between my legs? How could I bring myself to seek permission to masturbate? And if I did, would permission be granted? And if I secretly indulged myself, how would Miss Strang know? But these were not questions to be put to my governess.

"No, Miss Strang. I do not have any questions."

"Very well then, you will return to the entrance hall and sit in disgrace until supper. And then you will be sent to an early bed."

I sat almost oblivious to the occasional passage of people through the hall. My mind was teeming with anxieties.

More than anything I had wanted Miss Strang's approval and acceptance. To be restored to my former place of favour. To be her assistant in the schoolroom. To be chosen ahead of Mary. I had begun to hate Mary. And the thought of how she had enjoyed my humiliation made me hate her even more. How I would love to see her flogged by Miss Strang, horsed on Mrs Mountfield's back, hanging with her legs kicking in anguish as the birch cut and sliced her flesh. I imagined her throaty screams of agony as weals were raised by the relentless strokes of the rod. And with her skin broken, and her bottom streaked with blood. I imagined Miss Strang pausing, inviting me to select a fresh rod. I picked it out of the pail, shook off the surplus water, and continued the flogging myself.

But as my anger was overcome by such imaginative indulgence, the little serpent between my legs began to rouse. I tried to ignore him, but he resented the slight. He was insistent, demanding attention. I knew there was no way in which I could touch myself in such a public place, even if Miss Strang had not forbidden it. Instead, my thoughts ran to the torture of lying in bed, fingering myself, tantalising and tormenting myself. Yet not daring to proceed. Reluctantly taking my hand away, biting it, gnawing it, teaching it restraint. Better, I thought, not to touch myself at all, than to tease myself into a desperate longing. I began to suffer an acute anxiety that deepened by the minute. And then anger returned. How dare my governess forbid me to enjoy myself in that way.

Mrs Mountfield walked across the hall on the way to lay our supper.

She waited for me to reply. Tempting me to break the prohibition proclaimed and placarded for all to see. But I said nothing.

"That Rachel. She's a real tartar, I hear. Just like her mother."

She gave a shake of her head before going on her way.

I sat there awaiting the summons to supper. When it came, I felt once more the keen shame of being seen by my younger brothers in such disgrace. And I was angry that I might be seen once more by Mary.

As we entered the dining room, Miss Strang reminded Simon and John that they were not to address me, on pain of a spanking. As a warning, she fetched the hairbrush from the schoolroom and placed it beside her on the table.

The supper was a cold repast and consisted of a selection of meats with bread and butter, together with some chopped, well cooked cabbage. We ate in silence. From time to time, Miss Strang chided Simon for his manners and for not closing his mouth while masticating. I could see that he was not enjoying the cabbage.

"Simon, I have the impression that you are less than pleased with this meal for which we have given thanks. Is that correct?"

"N . . . no, Miss Strang."

"Then why are you grimacing and chewing in that inelegant fashion?"

"I . . . I don't mean to, Miss Strang."

"Then, if you do not mean to, why you are doing it? You are either finding the food distasteful or you are eating inelegantly. Which is it?"

"Please, Miss Strang, I . . . I'm sorry. I like the food. I do, truly."

"Then, you are chewing in a quite disgusting way. And you have already be warned about that."

She picked up the hairbrush and rose from the table.

"Well, Simon, can you think of any reason why you should not be spanked?"

His smooth, seven year old brow furrowed and his eyes opened more widely.

"No, Miss Strang. No. Please. I'm sorry."

She smacked the hairbrush across her palm. Small little slaps, full of meaning and purpose.

"I asked, Simon, whether there was any reason why you should not be spanked? Am I to conclude that you can think of nothing? No reason why I should not take your trousers and pants down here and now, and deal with you as a small ill-mannered boy should be dealt with?"

She waited.

"Well, I am disappointed, Simon. Most small boys would be desperately trying to find a reason to convince their governess that they should be spared a red and smarting bottom. Can you truly think of nothing. Nothing at all?"

She seemed to be offering him a little glimmer of hope.

"I . . . I . . . "

"Livia, can you come to Simon's rescue? You may speak."

"Perhaps, he has a . . a sore place on the inside of his mouth, Miss Strang. That would make it awkward for him to eat."

"Yes, Livia, thank you. That would certainly explain such mouthings and grimaces."

She put the hairbrush down. It must have seemed like a small reprieve.

"Come here, Simon. Open your mouth and let me see. No, wider than that."

She placed her hand under his chin and forced his head back, and then peered into his mouth. Then, she inserted a long forefinger and felt around the wall of his tiny red orifice.

"Does that hurt?"

"N . . . no, Miss Strang."

"Well, then, your mouth is clearly not sore. And if not, there is no excuse for your behaviour. Either you were complaining about the food, or you were eating in a rude and thoughtless fashion."

Her voice took on a sharper edge.

"So which is it, Simon? Dislike of the food? Or bad manners?"

I could see Simon, desperately trying to decide which was the better to confess.

"I . . I didn't really like the cabbage very much, Miss Strang."

Miss Strang raised her eyebrows.

"But a moment ago you told me you liked the food."

"I am sorry, Miss Strang."

"And well you might be, Simon. You were clearly lying to avoid punishment."

"No . . . No, Miss Strang!"

"But first you told me you liked what you were eating. Now you tell me that the cabbage was not to your liking. Both cannot be true. I think you are an ungrateful boy who was showing his dislike of the cabbage by eating in a disgusting fashion. And your earlier claim to like the food was false. In other words, a lie to avoid punishment."

There was a knock on the door and Mrs Mountfield entered.

"Come in Mrs Mountfield. We have here one small boy who dislikes your cabbage. A boy who needs to acquire a spirit of gratitude for what is placed in front of him."

She picked up the hairbrush again.

"Simon, apologise to Mrs Mountfield. I am not expecting you to like everything you eat. What I do expect is that you eat everything that is put before you, in a spirit of gratitude, whether you like it or not. Mrs Mountfield spends time and effort in preparing our food and it is an insult to her to have behaved as you have behaved. Please apologise."

Simon looked down.

"I am sorry Mrs Mountfield."

Whether he thought that was the end of the matter, I am not sure. But if so, he was speedily disabused.

"I have told Simon he is to be spanked, Mrs Mountfield. As he has insulted your good food, you may like to administer the punishment yourself."

I could see that Mrs Mountfield was taken aback by the suggestion, but she soon recovered her equilibrium.

"Well, Miss Strang, if you believe that is for the best, I am certainly prepared to deal with the young scamp. He and his brother over the past year have caused me more trouble than I can say. Until your arrival, they did just what they liked, and no word spoken to them None at all. I can understand that the household was at sixes and sevens what with Mrs Arbuthnot's illness, but they were little demons. No denying it."

Is that so, Mrs Mountfield? Well, I wish you to make me a list of their bad behaviour, as far as you remember it. And I will ensure that they make full atonement for their sins. Indeed, it would probably be right were you to participate in such a process."

She paused.

"But that is for another day. What Simon needs now is a sound spanking to teach him to appreciate the good food that is set in front of him."

She ruffled his hair.

"And when Mrs Mountfield has finished with you, there is that little matter of lying that will need to be dealt with.

(To be continued)