Cordelia Lavington Chapter 32
Copyright 2012 by Governess,
all rights reserved
* * * *
story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced
spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for
purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be
in real life. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or
such material, please leave now.
* * * * *
“So, Graham, did you hear what I asked Mrs
Simmonds to fetch from the infirmary?”
She raised her eyebrows in expectation of a
“Ye . . . yes . . . Matron.”
“So what was it?”
“S . . . s . . . some, ebro . . . ebro . . . “
His voice tailed off in confusion.
“The word, Graham, is embrocation. And do you know what an embrocation is?”
“Then I will tell you. It’s an ointment that is rubbed onto the
skin. For example, a boy with a bad cold
who finds it difficult to breathe might have his chest rubbed with an embrocation
to help him breathe better. Or a boy
with a sore place might have an embrocation applied to that.”
“So, Graham, where do you think you might need
an embrocation applied?”
“I . . . I don’t know . . Matron.”
“Well, it occurs to me, Graham, that as you and
Clough have been rubbing each other’s genitals they may be a little sore. Perhaps they would benefit from a little
embrocation. What do you think?”
“I . . . I’m not sure, Matron.
She reached out and placed her finger under his
penis and lifted it.”
“Is it sore?”
She spoke in a low, concerned, almost
“N . . . no . . . Matron.”
She looked at him, secured to the bed, helpless
and vulnerable. She smiled.
“But, in any case, this embrocation is not like
an ordinary embrocation, Graham. In
fact, it’s an embrocation made just for you.
And, of course, for your friend, Clough.”
Her finger went under his scrotum and dub
sharply upward into the sac. He
gasped. She could feel the two tiny
testicles within. The boy was now white
“Do you know why Mrs Simmonds has tied you to
the bed by your wrists, Graham?”
Her voice was sharper now.
“No . .
She held his genitals in her hand and gently
“Well, Graham, it’s because the embrocation is
to be applied here. To the very place
where Clough stroked and teased until you disgustingly spurted all over your
Every boy in the dormitory lay still, listening
“Tell me, Graham. Did you enjoy what Clough did? Was it pleasurable?”
She waited, her eyes on his small tense face.
“You will answer me, Graham. Did you enjoy what
Her voice had a hard edge to it now. The boy wilted before her gaze. He was biting his lip, his breath rough and
Ye . .
“Yes, you liked what he did?”
“Ye . . . yes, Matron.”
“And if nothing were done, you would soon be
wallowing again in the trough of sin.”
She waited, looking at him in his abject misery.
“Ye . . . yes, Matron.”
“But something is being done, isn’t it?”
She waited a moment before continuing.
“Tell the dormitory what happened to you and
Clough this morning.”
“We . . . had . . . had . . . had our . . . our
hands s . . . strapped.”
“Yes, to teach them that they’re not to wander
inside another boy’s pyjamas. And I hope
they have learned that lesson. Have they?”
“Ye . . . yes, Matron.”
But there’s another lesson that needs to be learnt, isn’t there,
“Is . . . is there, Matron?”
And do you know what that lesson is?”
“N . .
“Well it needs to be learnt by this.”
She reached out and placed her index finger
under his small limp little penis.
“So what is the lesson?”
“You have no idea?”
Please, I’m sorry. Please.”
She paused for a moment.
“The lesson this needs to learn is that a boy’s
genitals are not to be played with by another boy. That they are to remain in their own bed and
kept inside their owner’s pyjamas.”
“So how do you think that lesson might best be
He was in tears now, a small boy caught in a
sticky web from which, he knew, there was no escape.
Mrs Lavington took a handkerchief from her
pocket. It was small and scented, only recently taken from her dressing table
drawer. She opened it and gently dried
his eyes. Then she placed a cool hand on
“There’s no need for crying, Graham.”
She stroked back his hair.
“The Bible speaks of the pleasures of sin, and
you need to learn that, however pleasurable, sin is hurtful and does you no
good. That is why punishment is
necessary. The pain of punishment
teaches the true nature of sin. That in
the end it leads to pain and hurt and eventually hell itself. Hell, where there
is everlasting pain, and flames that burn forever and are never quenched.”
She looked across to Clough.
“I hope you are listening to this Clough. Because when I have applied the embrocation to
Graham’s offending parts, I’ll be applying it to yours.”
She walked over to the table and picked up the
jar and spatula and handed them to Mrs Simmonds.
“If you stand on the left side of the bed, Mrs
Simmonds. And when I am ready pass me
the spatula with a good smear of embrocation on it.”
Mrs Lavington stood on the boy’s right and
reaching down lightly grasped his penis, and slipped her handgently but firmly
up and down. He gasped, and despite his
fear the shaft thickened a little and the glans emerged from its foreskin
covering. It was not a full erection,
but helpful for her purpose. She looked up at Mrs Simmonds and reached out her
The boy was desperate now. He knew some terrible punishment was
Please Matron. Please. I’m sorry.”
He twisted his body away but she had him in her
grasp. The chilli embrocation was
smeared onto the swollen glans and then into the foreskin. She handed the spatula back.
“A little more, please, Mrs Simmonds.”
And this time the spatula was wiped across the
boy’s scrotum. She waited. It was about a minute before there was a
reaction. At first, he felt an itching
warmth and wriggled a little not yet realising the burning agony that lay
before him. But after only half a
minute, he began to writhe in earnest, howling and tearing at his fastened
Mrs Lavington bent over him and ran her hand
through his hair. It was soft and dry but soon would be damp and dishevelled as
his whole body began to sweat from the agony and the fear engendered by the
terrible burning between his legs. He
looked at her in desperation, a hopeless pleading in his eyes. She smiled down at him.
“I am afraid, Graham, the pain will last for a
Again her hand stroked his head. She felt sorry for him, but had no
compunction about the necessity of punishing him. To lay with another boy as he had done was a
most serious sin and had to be addressed.
And what was more appropriate than to turn the member that had given
such pleasure into a source of agonising pain.
She kissed his forehead and straightened up.
“And now you see why it was necessary to fasten
your wrists to the bedhead. If we hadn’t, you would be running around the
dormitory like a mad thing. And we don’t want that, do we? You would disturb all the other boys. But now we had better settle Clough down for
She walked over to Clough’s bed, followed by Mrs
Simmonds. The boy was shivering and
pale, having listened to all that had been said and done to Graham.
But judgement had been passed and there was no staying
the flaming, burning sword of justice.
And as her fingers stretched out the boy’s small member she wondered
whether the executioner felt as she did as he stretched out a slender neck upon
the block ready for the axe to fall. But
when the axe descended, it brought oblivion to temporal woes. But for this boy,
there would be no oblivion. Instead he
faced a night of acute suffering, the pale penumbra ofthe eternal torment that
faced him should be die in his sins.
“Like Graham you are pleading to be spared your
punishment, Clough. But that would not be a kindness. It might appear kind, but
it would be cruel. Exceedingly
cruel. I want you to imagine as you
sufferthat the agony will never cease, but will go on forever, to all
eternity. I want you to imagine that,
Clough. For, unless you learn to cease
from the Devil’s work, you are heading for hell and everlasting torment. Not now, not next week, nor even next year,
but when you die. When you pass beyond
this world to stand before Our Lord Jesus Christ to be judged.”
She looked up.
“Pass me the spatula, please, Mrs Simmonds.
And the burning embrocation was smeared on to
the inner softness of his foreskin and on to the small, shrunken, anemone-like
head revealed by Mrs Lavington’s cool fingers. Practical fingers that applied
plasters to cuts and grazes, but also fingers that wrapped around the handle of
a hairbrush to administer the soundest of spankings.
She waited, watching. And as she did so, she
stroked his head as she had done Graham’s, and then bent over and kissed his
forehead. She wanted him to know, before the agony built to an insupportable
torment, that the punishment was done out of love to reform and to save.
Before she and Mrs Simmonds left, she addressed
the rest of the dormitory, speaking clearly over the gurgling agony of the two
“No boy is to get out of his bed until morning
call. There is to be no talking and no
communication whatsoever with Clough and Graham. And remember this dormitory will be visited
from time to time during the night by Miss Guthrie. And if she catches any boy out of his bed or
talking to another boy, then that boy may expect to be soundly punished by me
in the morning. I am now going to switch
off the lights and you will all do your best to sleep.”
When back in the infirmary, Mrs Lavington sent
for Anne Guthrie and briefed her on the need to patrol the dormitory. She was told to wear soft shoes so any boy
disobeying her instruction would not hear her approach and would almost
certainly be caught. Miss Guthrie who
was childless and whose husband had died in the War smiled. She was dedicated to the reformatory and
firmly believed in its mission of transforming boys through strict discipline
and salutary punishment.
“Certainly, Matron. Any boys caught will go on a list for you to
deal with in the morning. Though from
what you tell me, I’d expect most to be hiding under the covers and too scared
to put even a nose out.”
“Well, let us hope so, Anne.”
She turned to Susannah.
“And we’d better check that dormitory first
thing in the morning, as soon as the boys have left. When boys are wakeful, there’s the temptation
to occupy themselves in other ways.”
Mrs Lavington looked at the clock.
“Just time for a quick cup of tea before
returning home, Susannah.”
“Thank you Matron. But tell me, do you intend to report Clough
and Graham to the Principal? Haven’t
they been punished enough?”
“I know it seems harsh, Susannah. But it’s necessary. The hands that wandered into another boy’s
pyjamas have been strapped; and now they are suffering in the very place where
they experienced the delights of mutual masturbation.”
“But there is something else. Because of the enormity of what they’ve done,
they owe it to all the boys in the reformatory to provide an example of what
happens to boys who sin as they have sinned, and to encourage others to resist
the same temptation.”
“And to achieve that a public flogging is
necessary. I have already spoken to the
Principal about it and he is in complete agreement.”
“That means they’ll be birched? Like that boy who ran away?”
“Yes Susannah. Like the boy Burgess who
As Mrs Lavington made her way home, there was a
lightness to her step as she breathed in the fresh evening air. She opened the
“I’m back Diana.”
Mrs Fairclough emerged from the drawing room.
“And how was it, Cordelia? An ordeal?”
“No, Diana, not an ordeal. But certainly demanding. But more to the point, how did you get
on? I hope the children behaved?”
“Impeccably, Cordelia. We had a most enjoyable time together. After homework, William did some drawing and
Samuel and Elizabeth showed me their rooms.
And then, after they went to bed, I’ve been reading your punishment book
from several years back.”
“Have you, Diana? And did you enjoy your read?”
“I did, Cordelia. It brought back memories of my own childhood,
as well as that of the boys.”
She had been holding the book with her finger
inserted into the page she had been reading. She flicked a page back.
“Do You remember this, Cordelia? It’s dated 30 November 1919.”
is now six. She seems determined to test
my patience at every opportunity. This
afternoon, I told her to put away her doll and get ready for tea, but when I
returned, five minutes later, she was still playing with it. She stared at me with a guilty look in her
eyes. ‘So, young lady, what happens when
you disobey me?’ Her lips puckered. ‘A spanking.’
‘But you’ve already been spanked, and it doesn’t seem to have
helped.’ She looked at me, her eyes wet
but behind the tears I could see defiance.
‘Go and fetch the cane from its hook in the hall.’ I turned up her dress and, with her knickers
down, she went over the arm of the sofa.
As this was her first caning I gave her only ten hard swishy
strokes. She cried bitterly. But medicine is bitter. And usually one dose is seldom enough!”
She looked up.
“Yes, Diana, I remember that. At the age of six, Elizabeth was
particularly difficult. A defiant little
miss. She had always had a strong seam
of wilfulness running through her. And
she was not always truthful. And, I am
afraid, that can still be the case.”
“Yes, I remember your saying she can be quite
deceitful. But reading this from three
years back, brought back memories of my eldest boy when he was that age. Howard was a rebel from the beginning. We used to call him Little Wat Tyler!”
“Wat Tyler came to an unfortunate end, if I
remember my history. Wasn’t he killed by
the Mayor of London in the Peasants’ Revolt?”
“Well, Howard was a rebel, but we didn’t go that
far! We spared him his life! But not the
rod. From an early age he’d
been caned. But around the age of six,
he became so wilfully disobedient and intractable that we birched him. Yes, at the age of six! I cut the switches myself and bound them
up. Our housemaid, a most helpful girl
called Greta, held him.”
“You mean she horsed him over her back?”
“Not then, but she did later. When he was stripped to his vest, she sat on
an upright chair with him over her lap, one hand in the small of his back and
the other wrapped around his body grasping him tightly. Then, I swished the birch across his firm,
round little bottom. Greta was Swedish,
and I’m sure she had been birched as a girl.”
“I still remember vividly the birching of
Burgess, Diana, the boy who absconded.”
for that James used a much heavier birch. For Howard, at that time, it was a
much lighter birch. But very swishy. The
beauty of the birch, Cordelia, is that it can be bound up for each boy
as needed. It can be made to tickle the
smallest boy into obedience, and also provide a salutary flogging to an older
boy, who needs thick throbbing weals raised on his flesh. Weals that are still visible two weeks
“Yes, I remember, checking Burgess three weeks
after his flogging and I could still see the faint marks
of the birch even then. Did the birch
raise weals on Howard’s bottom?”
It stung dreadfully, as it was meant to, but it was light enough to leave
only superficial abrasions.”
“I think that first time I gave him a dozen
cuts. But I can’t really remember.”
“I should have kept a record like this!”
(to be continued)