Miss Strang Chapter 94

By Governess

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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Chapter 94

“I apologise for the lack of wine with dinner, gentlemen.   But Mrs Innes is very strict about the consumption of alcohol in Lent. However, with the ladies withdrawn, I think a little port would be in order.”

He turned to me.

“Livia, in the sideboard you will find some glasses and the port. Put the glasses out and give me the bottle to pass around.”

When I had done so, he beckoned to me.

“What do you say gentlemen. Are we not fortunate in having such an attractive little sommelier to wait on us this evening?”

Mr Thorne smiled.

“And with her hair shorn as it is, she could easily be taken for Ganymede himself.”

I could feel Mr Innes’s hand slipping over the soft cotton of my dress.

“Ganymede, you say, Thorne. The cup-bearer to the gods. And not only a cup-bearer so we are told. Ganymede is his Greek name. But what was his Latin name, Livia?”

I wriggled as his hand continued to caress my bottom.

“I . . . I don’t know . . Sir.”

“Catamitus, Livia. From which we derive the English word ‘catamite’. And do you know what a catamite is?”

“N . . no, Sir.”

“Well, my little Ganymede, I had one at school. And with your hair shorn, he was very similar in looks to you. A very beautiful boy. Much younger than me, of course. But then a catamite to an older boy always is. Isn’t that right Thorne?”

He smiled.

“Indeed, Rector.”

“And what a delicious little catamite you would make, Arbuthnot. How I would have loved to have had you fag for me. And how versatile. A boy in appearance, but a girl beneath.”

His hand was now finding its way to the bareness of my bottom.

“And what have we here Arbuthnot. This is very reminiscent of school. The marks of a recent caning on a firm round bottom.”

I squirmed and could feel my face hot with shame.

“My fag, Swete, often had a bottom like this, Arbuthnot. He was small, with rounded limbs and brown hair. I bought him from the house captain for two pence, after he’d burnt Craddock’s toast once too often. As soon as I saw him I wanted him. He reminded me of my sister Naomi for he had come up to school early, with his voice was not yet broken. Naomi was my youngest sister and I confess I was a little in love with her. She must have been about nine at the time and was governed at home by my eldest sister, Frances, who was in her early twenties. Frances was very strict with her. A firm believer in the hairbrush stingingly applied to bare flesh.   And Naomi being an impudent little creature often found herself with a hot and smarting bottom.   Like all boys I looked forward to the holidays, and not only for the good food and soft bed.   It was also to see Naomi spanked.”

He took a sip of port.

“Unlike most girls of her age, Naomi’s hair was kept short. I think both my sister and mother wanted her to look more like a boy than a girl to keep her humble. Just as your hair is short, Arbuthnot.”

I could feel his finger between my bottom cheeks.

“And just as Swete resembled my sister so strikingly, so do you Arbuthnot. An uncanny likeness.   The three of you could have been sired from the same stable, and covered by the same mare.”

He filled his glass and passed the bottle to Colonel Massingham.

“Swete was a boy who had discovered the delights of masturbation at any early age and enjoyed it. But Craddock was not inclined to indulge him in that way. Craddock was a puritan and believed in exercise and healthy living. And he used to beat Swete mercilessly. He was house captain, and while senior boys were issued with a school cane, he had the privilege of choosing his own. Indeed, he had a selection of canes, including a crook-handled length of rattan, half an inch thick, that was the dread of the lower school.”

The port was passed back to Mr Innes.

“Of course, when he came to me, Swete didn’t entirely escape Craddock’s attentions. As house captain, it was his business to keep the lower school up to the mark. And Swete being of a somewhat slack disposition, he often found himself in Craddock’s study presenting his bare little rump for a swishing. He would come to me afterwards and I could often tell from the bleariness of his eyes that he’d been blubbing.”

Colonel Massingham reached out for the bottle and poured some more port into his glass.

“And you offered succour, did you, Rector?”

“I did, Massingham. And I comforted him in the way small boys most appreciate.    And then at night I would lie in bed and imagine him over my sister’s knee being spanked.   I imagined him squirming and howling just as Naomi did.

“About three weeks after I‘d bought Swete for two pence, I returned home for Christmas. I had the pleasure of seeing Naomi spanked several times over the holidays and then, when I was between the sheets, I would enjoy imagining Swete being similarly punished over Frances’s knee.”

He took a sip of port.

“The hairbrush Frances used to spank Naomi was kept in a drawer in the school room, and the evening before I returned to school, I crept in and removed it. I remember smacking it across my palm, and thinking how hard and solid it was. Then, I went to the tack room and slipped it into my trunk.”

“And when you were back in school?”

“I placed in on the window ledge in my study and pointed it out to Swete at the first opportunity.

‘Do you know what that is Swete?’

A hairbrush, Innes.’

‘Yes Swete, a hairbrush.   And do you know what it’s used for?’

‘No, Innes.’

Then, I’ll tell you, Swete. It’s been regularly used to spank the bottom of my little sister.   And as you remind me of her and are as naughty as she it, I’ve brought it back here to spank your bottom. So no disobedience and no cheek. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, Innes.’

“Of course I was itching to spank him and that first afternoon, immediately after prep, I did so. He had failed to tidy the study to my satisfaction.   And as Frances always made Naomi strip to her vest, so I insisted on the same degree of undress for Swete. Although I had previously caned him, that had always been across his breeches. Only Ephors and the house captain were allowed to cane bare. And Craddock was very hot on maintaining prefectorial privileges. And I didn’t want to cross him.

“So in choosing to spank Swete I had the pleasure of doing so on a completely bare bottom. I think he had regarded the hairbrush with some disdain, especially when he had been told it’d been used to punish my little sister. But he was soon persuaded otherwise. I gave him twenty slow hard smacks to his firm round little bottom, and then set him between my legs and reached round to comfort him. But he twisted his hips and refused to co-operate I told him that if a boy didn’t need comfort at the end of a spanking, then he clearly hadn’t been spanked hard enough.   And he went back over my knee for a further twenty strokes. At the end, he was sobbing and ready to be consoled.

“It was a week later that a letter arrived from my mother. In taking the hairbrush, I had given little thought to the consequences for Naomi. I still have the letter. Shall I read it to you?”

There was a murmur of assent, and Mr Innes rose and crossed to a small desk, and taking a key from his pocket unlocked it. I wondered what else he kept in the desk. Reaching into one of the pigeon holes he pulled out a tattered looking envelope and took from it several pages of closely written script. While he was doing so, I took the opportunity to edge away from the table. He sat down and began to read.

My dear Dobbin

He looked up.

“That is what my mother called me in those days.

My dear Dobbin,

I trust that the new half has got off to a flying start and that your worse fears about Greek composition have not been realised.

I know how close you are to Naomi and how concerned you always are about her welfare. It is for that reason that I am writing to you, to acquaint you with an occurrence that has caused us all great distress. Several days after your departure, Frances went to retrieve the hairbrush to spank Naomi and found it missing. Despite Naomi’s impassioned protests to the contrary, she was sure that the naughty girl had taken it from the drawer and hidden it. Frances told her she expected the hairbrush to be returned to the drawer before the commencement of school the next day; and once returned, she would be given a double spanking.

Naomi wept profusely and again protested her innocence.   Later she became sullen and resentful. In the end she was sent to bed early without any supper.

The following day the hairbrush had not been returned and Naomi was told by Frances that she had no other choice but to fetch the cane from father’s study. In view of the seriousness of the offence, she insisted that I should be present.   Again, Naomi in a small frightened voice protested her innocence. Her words were, ‘I didn’t do it, Mother. I would never do such a thing’. And I half wanted to believe her. But a hairbrush does not just walk out of a drawer on its own bristles and disappear. No, Naomi had both the motive and the opportunity. Who else could have taken it?

She was made to strip to her vest and then turned over the back of the schoolroom armchair. She was told that in the absence of the hairbrush she would receive a double punishment of two dozen strokes, and that if hairbrush was not back in its drawer by the start of lessons on the following day, the caning would be repeated.   At that Naomi began to cry desperately pleading that she had never taken it and how could she return it. I looked at Frances but she shook her head in disbelief.

Naomi was severely caned across her bare bottom and the backs of her thighs. Twenty four measured strokes each of which elicited a scream of agony and helpless writhing as I held her firmly by the wrists. I felt so sorry for her, even though the punishment was thoroughly deserved. At the end she was quite limp and all protest gone. Later, she became quite sullen and was told that for the rest of the day she would be on a diet of bread and water, and be sent to bed early.

The following day the hairbrush had still not be returned and Naomi received a further caning.   Her small soft little bottom was now covered in weals. If you remember what William’s bottom was like after father had caned him for going into Skillet’s Wood when it had been placed out of bounds, then you will have some idea of how severe was her punishment.

Later that day Frances and I had a discussion about her behaviour and how we should proceed. We concluded that in all probability Naomi had destroyed the hairbrush or thrown it away beyond recovery. Clearly, we could not continue caning her daily as an inducement to return something that could never be returned. So she was told that she had been sufficiently punished for her original rudeness as well as for the theft of the hairbrush, but that with it missing, all further discipline would need to be with the cane, until a suitable replacement was found.

The whole episode has been both puzzling and upsetting.   Although a querulous and disobedient child, Naomi has up to now been honest and trustworthy. We are both praying that the severity of her punishment will have returned her to the path of honesty and truth. Frances has said that she intends to be even stricter with her in future and not be in a hurry to replace the hairbrush.

Well, Dobbin, I wanted you to know about this in view of your love for your youngest sister. She is very subdued at the moment and if you could pen her a short letter, I am sure that would raise her spirits.

With my love and affection.

He looked up.

“I remember clearly that on the evening of the day I received my mother’s letter, Swete came to me in his nightshirt.   And that meant only one thing. When Craddock caned one of the younger boys, he always did so just before lights out. It was the only time you saw a boy in his nightshirt outside his dormitory. In front of Craddock’s window, was a long narrow padded stool. A boy who was to be caned had to pull it out and kneel on it, gripping the sides, on all fours.   And woe betide him if he let go or shifted position. His nightshirt was then pulled well up his back exposing his small firm little bottom. When Swete came to me, he had clearly been blubbing.   I remember running my hand up under his nightshirt and over his bottom and feeling the ridges raised by the cane.”

He turned to me.

“I think, gentlemen, that perhaps we should see if the uncanny resemblance of our little Ganymede to my fag Swete extends to her bottom. You were birched at the Reformatory by Mrs McLaughlan only yesterday. Is that correct?”

“Ye . . . yes, Sir.”

“And since then Mrs Innes has had occasion to cane you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Come here.”

He lifted my dress and draped it over my shoulders.

“Lower your knickers and turn round so the gentlemen can see your bottom.”

I could feel my face and neck hot with shame.

“Well what do you think, gentlemen? How do you think that bottom compares with that of my little fag when he came hot and tearful from Craddock’s study?”

“I think only you can judge that Rector. We have not had the pleasure of viewing Craddock’s handiwork as you have.”

“Well, I can tell you that so far our Ganymede has got off lightly. Swete’s bottom after three dozen cuts of Craddock’s cane had the appearance of a washboard. And where the strokes had overlaid each other blood had been drawn.”

He patted my bottom.

“But when you’ve been birched tomorrow morning with that swishy rod I saw Hemsley binding up, I dare say your bottom will resemble Swete’s a little more closely. Pull up your knickers and go and stand over there by the sideboard.”

He paused.

“Well, when Swete had taken his wealed and throbbing bottom off to his dormitory, I re-read my mother’s letter. I knew that I should have felt a pang of guilt, even a little remorse at what I had done and for the consequences for Naomi. But all I felt was a strange gratitude for the pleasure she had afforded me.

“And as I lay in bed I imagined her no longer being punished over the schoolroom armchair at home, but kneeling on all fours, on a low padded stool, and being caned like a boy from the lower school. From behind I could see her small bottom hole and the plump hairless lips of her little slit. And somehow I knew it was Swete watching her punishment, staring lasciviously at her exposure. And my sister turned to him.

“’Some people think that cold baths, and regular purging with castor oil are sufficient to keep a boy pure, Swete. But I believe otherwise.   A boy’s sins are purged only by consistent and thorough beating. And the cane is too good for you. It is a big boy’s punishment and we don’t want you thinking you’re anything other than grubby little boy who seethes with sin and perversity.   And cold baths don’t cool down a boy on heat. Oh no! Dr Hahnemann’s law of Similia Similibus Curentur, is the answer here. A boy on sinful heat needs the heat of chastisement to cure him. And not with a cane. Just an ordinary hairbrush. A hairbrush with a hard rosewood back.’

“And in her hand was the brush that I had taken from the schoolroom drawer.

“‘So Swete up with that nightshirt and over my knee and I’ll show you what this humble little brush can do for a boy.’

“And she commenced spanking his little bare rump until he was writhing and squealing; and as his bottom became increasingly hot and inflamed he roared and kicked like a lamb being shorn. After a while all that could be heard apart from the steady smack of the brush was the sound of helpless sobbing and whimpering.

“And still she continued, until his bottom was a dark crimson and with the skin worn away in places and bloody.”

He paused.

“I was rigid with pleasure and I could feel the knob of my cock purple and engorged. I pulled up my own nightshirt and taking from under my pillow the rag I used to ejaculate into, brought myself to a swift orgasm. Then I stuffed the rag back and fell asleep. But despite the relief, when I awoke in the morning, my nightshirt was damp and stained with a nocturnal emission.”

I had never heard men discoursing among themselves before, and I confess I was shocked at the unbridled nature of Mr Innes’s revelations. But his fellow diners seemed not in the least abashed.

(to be continued)

(The End)