Copyright 2026 by Governess, all rights reserved
[4,000 words]´
* * * * *WILLIAM, WINIFRED, SAMUEL AND MARGARET PART II
I
looked at Winifred. Her short vest ended just above her waist and below
it her bottom flared out into a plump, pale fullness. Her stockings
were secured by garters half way up his thighs. I felt my heart flutter
and my breath shorten at the sight. Although I had led her to believe
she would be caned, my intention had been to spank her as I would s
younger child, hard steady strokes on her pale flesh, leaving her
buttocks sensitive for several days and the imprint visible for the
rest of the week. However, now that I had seen the softness of her
bottom, and her thighs framed between her vest and the top of her
stockings, I knew that a caning just had to be given.
“Turn round, Winifred.”
I picked up the cane and swished it through the air.
WHOOSH WHOOSH. Her small compact buttocks clenched.”
“Are you hearing what Alexander heard, Winifred?”
She looked down.
“I must warn you, Winifred, that I regard a refusal to respond to a
question as rudeness. and rudeness is always punished Let us try again.”
.
And I whooshed the cane once more through the air. After a moment in a small, trembling voice she replied.
“Y . . . yes, Miss Strang. It . . . it’s a cane.”
“Yes. A cane. Something a naughty boy or girl soon learns to fear. “
I smiled.
“As I’m sure you will soon learn to fear it, Winifred. And your brothers, too.”
In the library was a large mahogany table, and two leather armchair,
together with a matching sofa. Also a pair of library steps.
“Winifred, do you remember the extent of your naughtiness? How you
stole Margaret’s doll. How you were a disobedient, thieving, heartless
girl and a liar. A girl who deserved far more than six smacks across
the seat of her knickers.”
She pointed.
“Go and stand facing the end of the sofa.”
She knew instantly what I intended.
No! No! Miss Strang! Please, don’t cane me,. Please, Miss Strang.”
“I am afraid it is necessary, Winifred. Only if a punishment is
sufficiently painful will it encourage a child to choose what is right
over what is wrong. In your case, to be a good, truthful and obedient
girl.”
I paused.
“However, as this is the first time
you have been caned, I will give you only six strokes. But that will
have to be followed by a sound spanking. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Miss Strang Thank you, Miss Strang.”
That she was to receive only six cuts of the cane had calmed her. Not, I thought, that she would remain calm for long.
“You will be spanked over my knee like any naughty child of your age.
But for the cane you will be turned over the arm of the sofa.”
I lifted her up and settled her in position. Her exposure was, I
thought, such an open invitation to proceed . But invitation, when
received, are often placed on the mantelpiece to be viewed with eager
anticipation. And I paused, adding to her anxiety and distress. But
also to my pleasure.
I swished the rattan through the still
library air, and watched as she flinched and her buttocks hardened into
resistance. Over the years, I have chosen to respond to clenching in a
number of ways. One is to reprimand the child for this visible
expression of resistance; and to threaten additional strokes if a soft,
accepting bottom is not immediately offered. Another is to tell the
child that however much they harden against the punishment, nothing can
defeat or lessen the pain. And then to thrash those, hard, clenched,
little buttocks with all the force I can muster.
In fact,
although it seems unlikely to the child, and goes against the grain of
instinct, offering soft buttocks to the rod results in less pain and
less bruising than buttocks clenched into hard, stiff resistance. Some
years later I was to read in Gorky’s autobiography, the advice to the
young Maxim who was recovering from a severe birching
Don’t
tense your body – understand. It hurts twice as much if you do that.
Relax; let your muscles go all soft like a piece of jelly.
But Winifred had not had the benefit of that wisdom.
I said nothing, swept up the can were e, and brought it speeding down
against the hard resistant flesh. There was a gasp followed by a
piercing scream. If she’d thought six strokes of little consequence,
she soon revised her opinion. And I did nothing to spare her. At the
end, she was sobbing and gasping and, almost incoherently, pleading for
forgiveness.
“You may get down, Winifred.”
I pulled a chair from under the table.
“Over here, Winifred.”
She stumbled across. Her twin brother was watching. He was flushed. His
eyes were wide and unblinking and his breathing rough. The sight of his
sister being caned wearing only a short vest and stockings had clearly
affected him. The notion that, before puberty, a boy is not stirred by
seeing a girl whipped, other than by the implied threat to his own
skin, is mistaken.
My own brothers’ interest in my whippings
was all too evident. Both were younger than I but by the time they were
seven or eight, they displayed a palpable excitement at seeing me
spanked. And it was not fear of suffering a similar fate, but a sensual
pleasure at my nakedness and the discipline inflicted. And I, too,
experienced a breathless excitement whenever they were spanked. They
were a year apart in age. When Bertie was four and Charlie five, they
had a governess, a Miss Crombie, who, with the encouragement of my
mother, spanked them both bare bottomed over her knee with the back of
a hairbrush. Seated on a chair and with the naughty boy standing in
front of her, she would first scold him, and then slip off his braces
and lower his pants. And how I loved those preliminaries! Her quiet
authority, his evident shame as his trousers and pants slithered to the
ground, and his shivering as he felt the cool air on his bare flesh.
Miss Crombie was never harsh, but exuded a calm authority that
proclaimed that nothing would be allowed to stand in the way of
necessary correction. . If either boy resisted being undressed, or
pulled away, she would hold him in a confident grasp and turn him
wriggling over her lap. Then, she would wait for him to settle, then
run her hand under his shirt and affectionately up and down his back.
And when he was still and calm, she would ease down his nether garments
and spank him. She never gave less than a dozen hard smarting strokes.
And if he had been really naughty she would continue with another
dozen. And then, if she thought it necessary, a further dozen. Then,
his earlier resistance was but a pale imitation of the frantic
screaming and writhing this induced, as he kicked and twisted and
roared.
And looking back over the years, I am reminded of
what Aristotle taught about the structure of drama: how it is a unity,
consisting of a preparation for the action that is to unfold, which
then mounts to a climax, followed by an unwinding of the action and
ends in a denouement when all is resolved. And I saw that a spanking is
just such a drama. A drama centred on a confrontation between two
wills, the bent will of the child and the will of the parent or
governess who is determined to straighten his will and render him
compliant.
And as the action unfolds, the child is first
firmly held, and arraigned for his transgression. The sentence is
announced and he is stripped and made ready. And then follows the roars
of rage, the smack of the hairbrush on soft sensitive flesh, and the
screams becoming more frenzied until at the climax the child is
writhing and angrily sobbing. And then, after a pause, the spanking
proceeds until slowly all anger is driven out and the child is left
utterly broken, pleading for forgiveness and promising never to sin
again. And finally, the resolution, the transformation where the child
accepts his need for forgiveness and throws himself into the arms of
the one who has so lovingly chastised him, opening the way to
forgiveness and the path to a renewed life.
At the conclusion
of his novel, Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikov who is in exile in a
prison camp is awakened from his suffering& to a new life by
Sonia's love. And Dostoyevsky says
He did not even realise
that the new life was not given for nothing, that he would have to pay
a great price for it, that he would have to pay for it by a great act
of heroism in the future.
And a spanking, too, awakens in
the child an awareness of a new life. He steps out of his self-will
into the will of the one who loves him and chastises him. Of course, he
will continue to struggle with future obedience, and will have to pay
for his failure by further punishment. And each occasion will demand
from him heroism, a willingness to submit and to suffer and to learn
from the whole drama of discipline. For loving discipline does not
withhold painful correction but through the imposition of suffering
opens the path to forgiveness and reconciliation. The new life is not
given for nothing.
William, and the two younger children,
watched as I spanked Winifred. I had spared her the complete caning she
had so richly deserved, but was determined that, by the time I had
finished with her, both bottom cheeks would be raw and throbbing, and
the back of the hairbrush warm to the touch.
I spanked her
in rounds of a dozen strokes, as had been Miss Crombie’s practice, when
as children we had been under the yoke of her discipline. After two
rounds, Winifred was roaring and writhing hysterically. She kicked and
struggled but with my right leg over hers, I held her legs down, and
began spanking the slack, sensitive flesh of the backs of her thighs.
She reared up, her head went back, and she gave a piercing shriek, like
an animal caught in the sharp metal teeth of a trap, when flesh is torn
and bone crushed.
Her little sister, Margaret, burst into
tears and her mother sat her on her lap. Her two brothers were pale and
unblinking, unable to look away. I worked my way slowly up and down,
the backs of her thighs from just below her buttocks down to the hollow
of the knee. And I concluded with a further two dozen strokes delivered
rapidly across her bottom. Then, I stood her in the corner.
I beckoned to William and he came and stood by me, fearing the worst. .
“I’m not punishing you, William. I just want you to tell me how this feels.”
And I gently placed the back of the hairbrush against his cheek. He stiffened.
“It . . . it feels warm . . . Miss Strang.”
“And why do you think that is, William?”
“I . . . I suppose because . . . it’s been used, Miss Strang.”
“Yes, William. Used to spank your sister’s bottom. And do you think her bottom is as warm as this brush? Or perhaps warmer? “
“I think her bottom would be warmer, Miss Strang.”
“Do you, William? It certainty looks very warm to me Why don’t you put your hand on it and see for yourself?”
He went across and rather tentatively placed his hand against Winifred’s bottom.
“And is it warm?”
“Yes, Miss Strang. It’s very warm.”
Winifred whimpered. She was still crying and the front of her vest was wet with her tears.
“And with a bottom as warm as that, do you think it is also rather sore?”
He nodded.
“Yes, Miss Strang.”
“And would you want a bottom like that?”
He shook his head.
“No, Miss Strang. Please. No. I wouldn’t.”
“So, what do you need to do to avoid that?”
He hesitated.
“Not tell lies.”
“Yes, and . . . ”
I could see him beginning to panic.
“Something very important. Something that if it happens will get a boy into a great deal of trouble.”
I had placed the hairbrush on the library table. I nodded toward it.
“Bring me the hairbrush, William.”
“No, Miss Strang. Please. No.”
I smiled.
“William, if you just think about what you’ve said, the answer should be obvious.”
I raised my eyes expectantly. He reddened.
“Is . . . is it to do . . . to do what you say?”
“Yes, William. Obedience. And if you don’t do what I say but instead argue about it and defy me. What is that?”
He looked down.
“Rudeness.”
And then quickly added.
“Miss Strang.”
“Yes, and rudeness is not something I tolerate, William. Not just rudeness to me, but to any adult.”
I paused and let his anxiety increase.
“So, please do as I ask and hand me the hairbrush:”
He shrivelled, becoming the epitome of a ten-year-old boy who is in
serious trouble. I have always enjoyed governing boys of this age.
Their buttocks lack the muscularity that comes with puberty, and are
still, firm and soft,. And there the arrogant self-assurance of boys of
that age can be effectively and lovingly dealt with.
William’s breathing was quick and shallow as he passed me the hairbrush.
“You saw how I spanked Winifred. I want you in just your undervest. And
fold your clothes neatly and place them over the end of the sofa.”
I watched as slowly he undressed until he stood shivering, and fearful before me. I sat on the chair and beckoned to me.
“Have you been spanked before, William.? Properly, I mean. As you saw Winifred spanked.
“No, Miss Strang.”
I smiled.
“Well, there is a first time for everything.”
And I pulled him over my knee and gave him a spanking that I was sure
he would long remember. Two dozen strokes given with an eager relish on
a bottom that had been spared for far too long. His voice had not yet
broken and his screams were the shrill screams of a small boy,
punctuated by the steady smack of the hairbrush on the soft skin of his
bottom and then on the sensitive backs of his thighs. At the
conclusion, I held him sobbing over my lap as I addressed his mother.
“So, Mrs Apthorpe. I trust that I have met your expectations as a
governess who disciplines your children with the firmness necessary to
bring them into line.”
“Yes, Miss Strang. You have. And I am
delighted. But I was surprised that the twins were spanked rather than
caned. Winifred received only six strokes of the rattan and William not
a single cut. At their age, I’d have thought they might have outgrown
spanking.”
I shook my head.
“No child outgrows
spanking, Mrs Apthorpe. It’s only that as a child gets older, the range
of available punishments increases. But spanking never falls completely
out of favour. A long hard spanking with a hairbrush will be dreaded by
a child of any age.”
Mrs Apthorpe frowned.
“Then why the cane?”
“You are asking, why I don't simply use the hairbrush? Well, there are
children who require regular and frequent discipline, sometimes needing
to be beaten several times a week, or even daily. For the same
implement to be used each time may not breed contempt exactly, but the
familiarity can lead to a sterile acceptance that takes away the
nervous edge that is a valuable part of punishment. You may think that
a beating is a beating, but each implement leaves its own mark. It has
its own signature. A boy knows if he has been spanked with the back of
a hairbrush; or had a leather tawse taken to his bare backside; or been
flogged with a rattan cane or birch. And for a boy whose behaviour
warrants regular and frequent discipline, there is a real benefit in
varying the implement of punishment. It makes him nervous and unsettled
and more responsive to punishment’s sharp reforming edge . And it shows
that my response to his naughtiness is not just a thoughtless routine,
but considered and caring.”
“And have you made use of all those implements, Miss Strang?”
“Well, you’ve seen me use the hairbrush and cane. I also use from time
to time, a two-tailed split leather tawse. And as for the birch, well,
we discussed, how that needs to be bound up on each occasion, and after
several floggings has to be replaced. But you said there would be no
difficulty in providing suitable rods. So, may I suggest that a couple
of rods are bound up and placed steeping in a bucket in the schoolroom.
Whether or not they are used, they will serve as a constant reminder of
the need for good behaviour.”
“That should present no
problems, Miss Strang. None at all. I’ll speak to Burgess about it. But
tell me, how old were your brothers when they were first birched?”
“A lot younger than William and Winifred, Mrs Apthorpe. Before they
were Samuel’s age, both Charlie and Bertie were regularly being birched
for particularly egregious misbehaviour. And I may well do the same.
William and Winifred are certainly old enough. And so is Samuel.”
“I agree, Miss Strang. But what would count as ‘egregious misbehaviour’?”
“It’s not so much the offence itself, but the spirit that informs it.
Lying is a good example. Some lies are worse than others. An amusing
lie told in fun is very different from a lie to escape punishment, or
worse to blame another child. And sometimes an action that is good in
itself can be done for bad reasons. For example, when a child shares a
toy. not to please but to make another child jealous. So where you have
something that is good in itself but done with a malignant intent, then
that probably requires a particularly severe response. To twist good
into evil is a very serious sin. And for that a birching might be the
best, and kindest, solution.”
“Kindest?
“Yes, Mrs
Apthorpe. Serious misbehaviour demands a serious response One that
confronts the wrongdoing head-on and sets the child on the ladder that
leads upward to the light. And a sound birching has the power to do
that. There is redemption in the retribution exacted. To withhold or
ameliorate deserved punishment is unkind and cruel for it removes that
ladder by which a child may mount to heaven, or at the very least it
weakens the rungs The saying ‘cruel to be kind’ is often derided
because it is misunderstood. Father Faber in his hymn says
There’s a wildness in God's mercy
Like the wildness of the sea
There’s a kindness in His justice
Which is more than liberty
And
parents and those appointed to govern children exercise that divine
justice on His behalf. And in that justice there should be a kindness
that is more than liberty, a mercy like the wildness of the sea. The
sea is powerful, irresistible, it lashes flesh to a stinging blush and
takes the breath away. And that mercy extended to a child is to be
found in punishment, in the rod of correction.
And the hymn continues,
There is mercy with the Saviour;
There is healing in His blood.
For
the rod is the sacrament of childhood, and through it a child shares in
the suffering of Christ, It is the one simple loving remedy for
childish sin.”
“I am familiar with the hymn, Miss Strang, but
I wonder whether it really carries the sense you place on it. If I
remember correctly, it continues
But we make His love too narrow
By false limits of our own
And we magnify His strictness
With a zeal He will not own
If our love were but more simple
We should take him at His word
And our lives would be illumined
By the presence of our Lord
That seems to me as though the Lord is not endorsing strictness at all.”
“No, I am sure that is not the case, Mrs Apthorpe. We narrow
God’s love by introducing a range of alternatives to spanking that are
contrary to scripture, and in that way we prevent his love from
flowing. And we magnify his strictness, by setting aside the
rod and sending a child to bed without supper, or making him write out
five hundred times ‘I must not lie’. But true discipline is far more simple. We should take him at His word
and restrict our discipline to what Scripture alone endorses. And if we
do so, our lives and the lives of our children will truly be illumined by the presence of Our Lord.”
Mrs Apthorpe nodded.
“Yes, I can see that. Thank you Miss Strang. But may I suggest that the
twins should now dress and with Samuel and Margaret go for a lie down
in their bedrooms. I think a time of quiet and reflection is called
for. And there are one or two matters that we still need to discuss.”
When the children had departed, we continued our discussion.
“First, Mis Strang, are you happy to instruct the children here in the
library. There are two large tables and sufficient upright chairs. And
over there is a large clerk’s desk in which you could use for keeping
your books and other essentials.”
“But doesn’t Mr Apthorpe need the use of the library?”
“No, Miss Strang. He has a study with his own books and it is there
that he prays and prepares his sermons. If you wish, the library may be
your exclusive scholastic domain.”
“Thank you, Mrs Apthorpe.
That would be a very welcome arrangement. But you mentioned one or two
matters. Is there something else?”
“Yes, there is. I have
specific concern about Margaret and Samuel. First, Margaret is still
given to noisy tantrums. Miss Williams approach was to hug and comfort
her as if she had hurt herself.”
I shook my head.
“A
child who throws a tantrum needs to be confronted. She should certainly
not be indulged and confirmed in her behaviour. A sharp command to
desist accompanied by the promise of a sound spanking if she fails to
heed the word. And if there is not an immediate improvement, her dress
should be turned up and her knickers taken down, followed by a sound
spanking with the back of a hairbrush. A dozen hard strokes to her bare
bottom. A short pause and if she persists in her screaming and inchoate
rage, then a further dozen strokes,. And repeated until she is
compliant.”
“Thank you, Miss Strang. I am very happy with that approach.”
“And what about Samuel? There is some concern there?”
“Yes. As I said, Samuel was Miss Williams’ favourite. He believed he
could get away with anything and most of the time he could. Her
relationship with him was far from helpful, and he has acquired a
cheekiness that often borders on impudence and rudeness. I want to see
that driven out and replaced by a spirit of deference and willing
obedience.”
“Well, as the Scripture says foolishness is bound in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline will drive it far hence. And I will see that it does, Mrs Apthorpe.”
I governed the four Apthorpe children for a little over two years;. And
it was there that I started to rely on the birch to punish particularly
egregious misbehaviour. Although Mrs Apthorpe was sorry to see me go,
she furnished me with an excellent reference to take to my new employer.