Miss Strang Chapter 67
By Governess

[email protected]

Copyright 2010 by Governess, all rights reserved

* * * * *
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.
* * * * *


Chapter 67

I felt Miss Strang's hand on my head.

"Stop crying, Livia."

She dipped a short length of towel into the still hot salty water and dabbed it firmly over my bottom. I winced and gasped. The scrubbing had broken the skin in a number of places and it was moist and raw, oozing as from a bad graze. The hot salt soaked towel was a sharp agony but quite different from the agony of the scrubbing.

"Aaaah . . . that hurts Miss Strang. Aaaah . . ."

"I am sure it hurts, Livia. But it is cleansing and restorative. Now sit on the stool. That's right. On the towel. Now wriggle a little and press your bottom down."


I did so.

"That will dry your bottom and allow the abrasions to stop bleeding. Not that there is much blood. But your bottom is going to be sore, very sore, for some while. I am sure it feels very uncomfortable."

She looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"Well, does it feel uncomfortable?"

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"Well let it be a lesson to you not to slip your bottom into places where it is forbidden to go. I have provided the lesson. You must learn from it."

I started to cry again, begging through my tears for forgiveness.

"I have told you, Livia, that forgiveness will not be withheld. But the time to bestow forgiveness has not yet come."

She stood looking down on me. Tapping the toe of her tightly laced shoe on the hard wooden floor. I looked up at her through my tears.

"Stop crying. Stand up. And tell me what you expected John to do when you placed his reluctant little hand between your legs?"

"I . . I wanted him to . . . to stroke me . . Please, Miss Strang, I'm sorry."

"I am sure you are, Livia."

"And when he was reluctant to do your bidding, you . . ?"

She raised her eyebrows again.

"Well? What did you do?"

"I . . . I started to do it myself, Miss Strang."

"You started to do it yourself. When you knew it was forbidden. A vicious habit that has to be broken."

"Yes, Miss Strang. But I . . I wanted to do it."

"Oh, I see you wanted to do it. And do you still want to do it? An honest answer please, Livia."

"I . . I am not sure . . Miss Strang."

"You mean you have no wish to feel that delightfully soft little finger of yours slipping between those plump little lips, probing and teasing. Stroking and exiting yourself? Well?"

"Please Miss Strang."

"Please. What do you mean by please? In addition to leading your brother into sin, you have given yet another demonstration of your propensity to indulge yourself like a boy. A greedy little boy, grunting and snuffling with his trotters in the swill."

She paused.

"And a boy's sinful indulgence is deserving of a boy's punishment. Is that not right?"

"No. Please, Miss Strang."

"But how can you disagree? It surely follows as the night the day. You have behaved like a boy and must be punished like a boy?"

I was crying now, desperate and fearful, a small naked girl with buttocks scrubbed raw, shaking before the implacable will of her governess.

She smiled, and put her arm around me.

"But Livia, a governess is not bound to act in accordance with expectation. For a governess makes the rules and can set aside the rules. A child may be deserving of the severest punishment but a governess can spare that child if she chooses. She can bestow favours even on those who do not deserve them."

She paused.

"But first, I think, that there needs to be a little period of penance. I would not wish you to take such clemency for granted."

She walked across the room and picked up the washboard from where it was leaning against the bookcase. She placed it flat in the middle of the schoolroom.

"Kneel on it, Livia."

I hesitated.

"I said kneel on it."

I sat on my heels before the washboard. And then extending first one knee and then the other, I knelt. Immediately I was aware of the hard, unforgiving, ribbed surface.

"And a straight back, please, Livia."

I felt a hand in the small of my back and the other on the bony top of my chest forcing me upward.

"I have sometimes kept a boy several hours in such a position, Livia. And then flogged him. However, the penance would be a mockery unless you knelt for at least half an hour. And during that time you will say nothing, not a murmur, and you will keep your back absolutely straight. Is that understood?"

I was gasping as the ridges dug into my knees.

"You may change the weight from one knee to the other, if you wish. But the back must remain completely straight and upright. Is that understood?"

I was breathing deep stertorous breaths of agony.

"Ye . . yes . . Miss Strang."

"Than not another word."

I had been positioned so that I could see the schoolroom clock. Whether this was by chance or intention I was unsure. But watching the slowness of every minute as it passed added immeasurably to the agony. After only a few minutes I tried to reposition my knees, to find a way of mitigating the pain. But there was none. I swayed from side to side, switching the weight from one knee to the other. Sometimes there would be a sharp reminder from Miss Strang to keep a straight back. After the third such warning she picked up the cane and standing in front of me, pressed the tip into the small hollow of my left shoulder forcing me back.

I shut my eyes in my agony, trying to retreat into a dark secret world where there was no pain.

"Open you eyes, Livia. And keep them on the clock."

I tried to focus on the warm bed into which Miss Strang had taken me the night before. Tried to remember the scents of her bedroom, the softness of the pillows, and the comforting that I had received. But the agonising pain in my knees and the ache in my back defeated me.

"P . . please, Miss Strang. I . . I . . ."

"I thought my instruction was to keep silent, Livia. I will add a further five minutes for your indiscretion."

I bit my lip and screwed up my eyes, fighting back my tears.

"And keep your eyes forward and on the clock. Or I will have to add another five minutes."

When I was told to rise, the ache in my back was so great and my knees so bruised that I did so only with difficulty, easing myself up like an old woman with arthritic limbs.

"Sit in the armchair."

She knelt before me and lifted up my right leg and resting it against her rubbed her hand over my knee, gently at first but then more vigorously. I felt the aching numbness begin to dissipate. I could see that the hard ridges of the washboard had left indentations on both knees, and the tips of Miss Strang's fingers lingered over them. I revelled in the intimate attention, as a sign of her love and caring.

She then came and sat in the armchair beside me and, slipping her hand behind, began massaging my back. Her warm hand ran up to the top of my spine and then descended. Her thumb sinking itself between each vertebra, lightly pushing and then stroking up and down. A shiver ran through me. And then the hand slipped lower, massaging the lumber region where the ache was most acute.

"Is that comforting, Livia? Is the pain being eased away?"

"Yes, Miss Strang. Thank you."

And now the hand was resting at the base of my spine, and her fingers were dipping down into the separation between my buttocks. Soon her finger was tantalising my small tight little anus.

"What a delightfully responsive child you are, Livia. Whether one is giving punishment or pleasure, a small writhing body confirms that whatever is being imparted is having the desired effect."

Her hand continued to stroke my back. She spoke in a soft gentle voice.

"I have decided to deal with you a little differently from your brother. Even though your sin is a grave as his, if not even more serious."

I was holding my breath.

"I once governed a girl called Elizabeth. I had caught her masturbating and had told her clearly that such behaviour was forbidden. So another warning was given. But shortly afterwards I caught her pleasuring herself again. She had taken no heed of my word. And do you know how I dealt with her, Livia?"

My breath was so short that I could barely reply.

"N . . no, Miss Strang."

"Then let me tell you. After I had flogged her with a freshly cut birch rod, I sent her naked to her bedroom, and made her lie on her bed. I then secured her feet to the bed end. She was in great distress. I stroked her head. She had, I remember, very soft brown hair. It used to get tangled and needed a great deal of brushing.

"I told her that she had pleasured herself without my permission, but that after such a sound birching, she now had my permission to comfort herself. She looked at me through her tears. Anxious, wondering exactly what I meant. I explained that where her fingers had gone without my permission they might now go with my permission. That she was in need of comfort."

She ran her hand lightly up my back. I shivered.

"Yes, Livia. Comfort. In the Holy Communion service in the Prayer Book, the minister, says to his congregation,

Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all that truly turn to him.

Have you ever wondered what comfortable words were, Livia? To our ears it is a strange expression."

Her hand was now on the nape of my neck, her fingers running up into my hair.

"Well, have you wondered, Livia?"

Strangely, I had. I had always thought it a lovely expression, even from an early age.

"Yes, Miss Strang."

"And what did you conclude?"

"I'm not sure, Miss Strang. I just liked it."

"Yes. I can understand that. But when the Prayer Book was written comfort and comfortable meant something a little different from today. Much closer to the Latin word they come from. If I tell you that the word is fortis, does that help. What does fortis mean?"

"Does it mean strong, Miss Strang?"

"Very well done, Livia. It does. And in the time of the Prayer Book, comfort meant to strengthen or make strong. And the comfortable words are words that strengthen and encourage."

She smiled.

"Well I had promised Elizabeth comfort. But it was to be a comfort that strengthened and fortified."

(To be continued)