Miss Strang Chapter 4
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 4

At the end of the lesson, Miss Strang commended me on my algebra, and thanked me for assisting her in running the schoolroom. She smiled and said,

"I can see that you are going to be a great help, Livia, and I hope I can rely on you in future. Please don't disappoint me."

Perhaps I should describe our domestic arrangements at that time. The schoolroom was on the first floor and next to it was a large living room where we ate with Miss Strang. Our meals were brought to us by Mrs Mountfield. There was then a long corridor running down to a staircase and each of us children had a bedroom off that corridor. Next to the living room and opening from it Miss Strang had her own room and off that was her bedroom. The house was large and occupied by my father from where he conducted his business. The domestic staff occupied the whole of the upper east wing. As children we were exceptionally privileged, although, like all such children, were quite unaware of it.

At six, Mrs Mountfield brought up our supper and we went into the dining room. Simon and John sat with some discomfort on the hard wooden chairs, and Miss Strang scolded them for wriggling about.

"I can see that you are all gong to need some lessons in table manners," she said. "Indeed, tomorrow we will establish some rules for each of you, and not just for table manners. You will then know what I expect and have no excuse when disciplined."

The supper was eaten largely in silence. When the plates and cutlery had been stacked for Mrs Mountfield to collect, Miss Strang said prayers, before sending Simon and John to bed. I remember John questioned his being sent at the same time as Simon, which I thought very bold and rather foolish.

"Please Miss Strang, I go to bed after Simon because I'm older."

"No, John, you go to bed when I tell you and you go without argument. Any further questioning of my word and you will be spanked. I am surprised that you are expecting privileges on account of your age. When I had to cane you this afternoon, you behaved like a little five year old!"

I could see that John was angry and resentful at this, but Miss Strang surprisingly chose to ignore it.

"Now go, both of you. When you have undressed, I want your clothes neatly folded and placed on a chair. Before getting into bed you will wash and then go to the lavatory, and once in bed you will stay there until the morning. Livia will come in ten minutes to check on you and to turn out the lights. And once the lights are out they stay out. Do you both understand?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

Miss Strang sat and opened a book and I felt rather uncomfortable at being left alone with her.

"Miss Strang, please may I fetch my diary?"

"Of course, Livia. Do you keep a diary? It is a very good thing to do."

"Yes, Miss Strang, I started it at the beginning of the year and I think I have put in an entry every week."

"Excellent, Livia. Certainly go and fetch it."

The diary was in fact a thick exercise book with a hard cover which on its back proudly announced that it was waterproof. When I returned, I started to describe the events of the day but, before long, Miss Strang reminded me that I needed to check on the boys.

"I went first into John's room. He was in bed, but I immediately noticed that his clothes were not at all neatly placed on the chair and his socks were balled up and left lying by his shoes. I wondered what to do.

"John, I don't think Miss Strang would be very pleased with your clothes."

He looked at the rather dishevelled pile, and went to get out of bed.

"No, stay there. You know she said you weren't to get up until morning. I'll straighten them for you."

"Will you, Livvy? Thanks. I was just so cross."

Suddenly, I wanted to look at the marks on his bottom. The urge came without any preliminary thought, a hot sticky irresistible urging that dried my mouth. I was dizzy with desire.

"Lie on your tummy," I said.

"Why?"

"Do as I say or I might just tell Miss Strang about your clothes."

With much reluctance, he turned over, and I pulled back the covers. Then, I rucked up his nightshirt. I felt a strange squirming sensation at the sight of his bottom. I reached out and ran my hand lightly over it. His buttocks contracted and he wriggled. I held the fleshy fullness of each buttock in my small hands and experienced a heart-stopping sensual pleasure at the soft, dense, yielding weight. John's wriggling turned into a twisting attempt to escape my grasp.

"Don't, Livvy, that hurts."

I removed my hands reluctantly. I could see where the springy rattan had curled round and bitten into his flesh. Several weals on the far side of his right buttock looked like small bruised lips. Elsewhere, the cane had raised long inflamed ridges. By tomorrow they would begin to fade into narrow red tramlines, but at that moment they were still puffy and swollen. I reached out and gently traced my finger across his bottom. I felt giddy, filled by a strange dancing elation.

"And what do you think you are doing, Livia?"

I started, and turned to face Miss Strang. She had a curious look on her face, both accusing and yet amused. My first thought was oddly that I had not been able to tidy John's clothes as I had promised.

"Go to the schoolroom, Livia. And John I can see that your idea of neatly folding your clothes is a little different from mine. It would not surprise me if you dreamt tonight of a small boy being soundly spanked for untidiness."

She turned out the light.

"What are you waiting for Livia? I told you to go to the schoolroom. Do as you are told."

Miss Strang went to check on Simon and I waited in the schoolroom for about five minutes. I was filled with a sense of acute desolation. Miss Strang had trusted me, had commended me for being helpful, had expressed the hope that she could rely on me . . and I had thrown it all away.

When she came she was holding a leather strap that was split along about half its length. It swung from her grasp and was heavy with menace.

"Livia, I can only say that I am disappointed in you, deeply disappointed. I gave you a task to do, and you neglected it. You were asked to check on your brothers, and to turn out their lights. Did you do that?"

"No, Miss Strang. I am sorry. I am truly sorry."

"I am sure you are sorry, Livia. But the question is what do you think we need to do about it?"

I hung my head, my mind spinning round, wondering what answer to give.

She waited.

"Well? The question needs answering, Livia."

"I suppose . . I suppose, I need to be punished, Miss Strang."

"You are right, Livia. Punishment is certainly required."

She waited for a moment.

"This leather strap is called a tawse, Livia. I am minded to whip you with it? Or, maybe, you think you do not deserve a whipping at all?"

I looked at the tawse in her hand. She rested it across her left palm, and grasping it drew the solid leather tails slowly through her hand; and then holding it just above the split in the leather, she smacked it several times across the flat of her hand.

I flushed.

Miss Strang held me in her gaze. Her eyes were dark and searching. They looked right into me.

"But Livia, I did not ask you to establish how badly John had been caned. What I asked you to do was to check that Simon and John had done as I instructed. That they had washed, been to the lavatory, had folded their clothes and were in bed. All you had to do was turn out the lights. Isn't that right?"

I hung my head,

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And may I ask exactly why you needed to check on how badly John had been caned? You saw him caned over the armchair. You even assisted me in that. You watched each stroke as it was given. You saw him in the corner displaying his bare whipped bottom. Wasn't all that opportunity enough to know how badly he had been caned. Isn't that right?

"Yes, Miss Strang."

To the pain of losing Miss Strang's favour, and the shame of being treated like a naughty child, was now added a rising sense of guilty fear as she began to probe towards what I desperately wanted to keep secret.

"Please, Miss Strang . . . " was all I could manage in a small, hopeless, desperate voice.

"Livia, the marks on John's bottom were put there by me as a lesson in obedience. If they needed inspecting, then that was for me to do, not you. In the morning, I will insist that John looks at them in his mirror. And again in the evening when he undresses before bed. In that way he will be reminded of what befalls naughty little boys. And that will continue until the marks fade. All that is my responsibility, not yours. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Strang, I understand."

She smiled.

"Good. Now a moment ago you said you did not think it right for me to discipline you with the strap. Is that still your view?"

I hesitated.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"Well, it will probably come as no surprise that I disagree with you. How old are you?"

"Twelve, Miss Strang."

"I have found that twelve is an age when girls begin to think themselves more grown up than they are: that rules no longer apply to them, and that they can do what they like with impunity. Well, let me tell you, Livia, that however grown up you may feel, if you are disobedient or there is the slightest hint of chafing under my authority, then you will be soundly whipped."

She then bent towards me, her voice quiet and almost intimate.

"And did you touch his bottom, Livia? Did you feel the weals that I had raised upon his flesh? Did you?"

I hesitated, but I knew that dissembling was pointless. I hung my head in shame.

"Yes, Miss Strang, I did."

She nodded, her lips compressed.

"Then Livia, you will receive three strokes of the tawse across each palm. That will be a lesson to you that you are to keep your hands to yourself. But first, you will undress for bed. Go and put on your nightdress. Then, return immediately to the schoolroom.

(To be continued)