Miss Strang Chapter 55
Copyright 2009 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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"And now, Oliver, we must have a little talk."
She turned to my two brothers.
"John, please get out your arithmetic book and turn to page 34. I expect to see all twenty long division sums completed before the end of the afternoon. And Simon, you will learn your tables, including the thirteen times table that is on the sheet I am about to give you. There will be a test for Simon at four o'clock and then John's work will be marked. And I am not prepared to accept anything less that one hundred per cent accuracy. If there is any deviation from that, then you may expect to be whipped."
Both boys put their heads down and concentrated. John sucked the end of his pencil and his brow was furrowed with anxious concentration. Simon was already repeating his tables under his breath. The severe caning they had witnessed must have been a powerful encouragement to their effort. Apart from the scratching of John's pen and Simon's mutterings, there was silence.
"And now Oliver, I want you to fetch the Bible again."
I walked stiffly across to the bookshelf and picked it up.
"Do you know where the Book of Genesis is to be found, Oliver?"
"Yes, Miss Strang. It's the first book of the Bible."
"Good. Then turn to Chapter twenty-eight and the tenth verse of that chapter. and read that verse and the next two verses."
The Bible was floppy in my hand and I found it difficult to open.
"Place it on your desk, Oliver and find the place. And now stand here. Hand me the Bible. I will hold it for you so all you have to do is read."
She held the Bible much as a deacon holds the Gospel for the priest to read. And I read.
And Jacob went out from Beer-Sheba and went toward Haran.
And he lighted upon a certain place and tarried there all night because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep.
And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth and the top of it reached to heaven; and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it."
I paused and looked up. She picked up the mirror.
"Thank you Oliver. Put the Bible on your desk and turn round. Now look over your shoulder into the mirror."
I did so.
"And what does your leg, your right leg, remind you of, Oliver? With those thick stripes running up it? Well?"
I hung my head and whispered in a low voice.
"A ladder . . . Miss Strang."
"Yes, Oliver. A ladder."
"And where did the ladder that Jacob dreamed of lead to?"
I looked down, feeling, for some reason, ashamed
"Heaven, Miss Strang."
"Yes, Oliver, Heaven."
She was sitting on the arm of the large chair. I was standing facing her. She pulled me towards her, and dropping her hand reached down, running it up the back of my right leg, scratching across the recently raised weals with her finger nail. I winced.
"And do you think this ladder lead to Heaven, Oliver?"
"I was confused. And had no idea what she meant or what sort of reply was expected.
"I . . . I don't know, Miss Strang. I don't think so."
"No, Oliver, perhaps not to Heaven . . . "
She again ran her hand up my leg.
" . . . but perhaps to Paradise."
She waited. I said nothing.
"And what does a boy have between his legs, Oliver?"
Under Miss Strang's tutelage I had become familiar with her direct questioning, and her open control over our bodies, but I still blushed.
"His . . . his little . . . "
""We refer to it as his genitals, Oliver."
She paused, her hand now on my wealed bottom.
"And what is Paradise, Oliver?"
"It's . . it's where Adam and Eve lived . . Miss Strang."
"Indeed, Oliver. It is the garden where Adam and Eve lived. And what a boy has between his legs is for him a veritable paradise, a garden of delights. A garden in which he loves to play, where he loves to touch that little wriggling worm between his legs. And when he is older, to feel it thicken and stiffen and display its bulbous head. But you have no such worm, Oliver, have you?"
"Perhaps it has wriggled away?"
She waited but I said nothing.
"So where is it, Oliver?"
I hung my head.
"I . . . don't have one . . . Miss Strang."
"And why is that, Oliver?"
I could hardly speak.
"Because . . because . . . I'm a girl."
"Are you indeed. A girl? Then why are you dressed as a boy?"
"Because . . . I behave like a boy . . . and do things that . . . that boys are forbidden to do.""And what is it that boys do? What is it, Oliver? What do they do with that thing between their legs? That thing that you do not have? Well?"
I was near to tears.
"Please, Miss Strang. Please"
"I asked you a question, Oliver. What do boys do with that thing between their legs? Answer me."
"They . . . rub it . . and . . . and they masturbate."
"Yes. They masturbate."
Her hand was still on my wealed bottom. I felt her fingers digging into my flesh.
"But Oliver, even though you have nothing hanging between your legs, you have another source of enjoyment do you not?"
Tears filled my eyes at this cruel, relentless probing. I was aware of my brothers listening with rapt attention.
"Yes . . . Miss Strang."
"Tell me, Oliver, what else lived in the Garden of Paradise, with Adam and Eve. Something that wriggled on its belly in the dust of the earth. What was it?"
"A serpent, Miss Strang."
"Yes, Oliver. A serpent, a snake, a slimy worm. And what did it do?"
It . . . it tempted them . . Miss Strang."
"Yes, Oliver. It tempted them."
Her hand was still on my bottom.
"Just as the worm between John's legs tempts him. Stirring in its nest, wriggling forth, itching, insistent and demanding. Until every thought of his day is on pandering to it, stroking and exciting it, feeding its gluttonous desire for attention."
I glanced across at John. I could see how he had reddened and how his head was down over his work. But Miss Strang was relentless.
"And what a brazen little worm. So bold and arrogant. And, in an older boy, how it swells, making it so easy for an alert governess to become aware of its malign presence."
She turned to John.
He looked up, his face flaming with embarrassment.
"Ye . . . yes, Miss Strang?"
"Be in no doubt that I know how to take all the stiff arrogance out of a boy's little worm and reduce it to shrivelled misery."
"Now get on with your work."
His head went down over his book. He was nervously biting his lip.
"But Oliver. It is different with you. There is no obvious little worm that swells with arrogance, is there?"
"No, Miss Strang."
"But you are not without your own little paradise, your garden of delights. Are you?"
I was hot and anxious and stammered a little as I replied.
"N . . no, Miss Strang"
"And there is a little snake there, is there not?"
I held my breath for a tiny moment. How did she know about the snake? I felt exposed and vulnerable as though a spy had been discovered in the innermost closet of my being.
"Behind the fat little lips of that slit between your legs, Oliver, there is a snake, is there not? Answer me?"
"Ye . . yes, Miss Strang."
"Yes. It lives hidden in an enclosed garden. And tempts you, does it not, just as it tempted Eve."
I, too, wanted to slither away like a snake, into a hidden den, deep in the earth, beyond all such cruel probing.
"Yes, Miss Strang."
"And I know how it loves to be cosseted. How it responds to a cool finger stroking it. As it did last night. Is that not right?"
I could scarcely breathe.
"Ye . . yes, Miss Strang.""But last night there was a difference. Then, you were a girl. Now you are a boy. And subject to a boy's discipline. Under the restraint appropriate for a boy who is nearly thirteen."
I nibbled my lower lip, tears pricking at my eyes.
"Please, Miss Strang."
"Please what, Oliver?"
"P . . please, Miss Strang . . . Please, will I ever be a girl again?"
"Well that depends partly upon you. And whether you want to be a girl. I do recall that you wrote again and again that you were a boy."
"I'm sorry, Miss Strang."
"Are you? You told me as we returned from town, that you enjoyed being dressed as a boy."
She ran her hand up the nape of my neck. I shivered.
"And I have to say that you do make a very handsome boy."
"You may want to be a girl again, Oliver. But then I may want to keep you as a boy. Perhaps as my little slave boy. What do you say?"
"Please, Miss Strang . . . "
"That may seem cruel. But you know what happens when a boy goes away to school? How the young boys have to serve the older boys?"
She drew me towards her and my head rested on her shoulder. Her hair smelt sweet and slightly scented.
"Do you know the word fag, Oliver?"
"No, Miss Strang."
"Well that is the name for a small boy who serves an older boy. Who is expected to do everything that older boy wants. And who is caned, or even worse, if he displeases him."
She paused, her hand was again on my bottom.
"And the young boys all sleep together in dormitories with an older boy in charge. And what a time you would have! A boy without a winkie! A boy with nothing between his legs! How you would be teased. You would sleep naked of course and take a cold shower with the other boys every morning. So there would be no hiding from them that you were different."
She smacked my bottom gently, and ran her fingers down the ridged flesh. I winced.
"And those older boys. How they would compete for the privilege of having young Oliver as their fag. Boys of that age have very undesirable habits."
She waited for a moment.
"Do you remember what Livia did to her brother?"
I hung my head.
"Ye . . yes, Miss Strang."
"And what did she do?"
"She pushed a . . . Please Miss Strang."
"What did she do. Answer me."
"She pushed a nettle stem up his bottom . . . Miss Strang"
My voice faded as I spoke."Yes. And at school the older boys treat the younger boys like that all the time. An older boy regards his little fag as his property. But he does not use a nettle stem. What do you think he uses, Oliver?"
"I . . . don't know, Miss Strang."
"Well let me provide a clue. It is something that you, Oliver, conspicuously lack. Does that help?"
"So, Oliver, what is it that he uses?"
"It . . . it must be his . . thing, Miss Strang."
"Oliver, you are nearly thirteen. You know what the proper name for that 'thing' is, Use it please. Boys of your age are not permitted baby talk. What is it?"
"His . . . his penis . . . Miss Strang."
"Yes. His penis. An older boy will use his penis. Just as Livia used that nettle stem. But it will be thicker than a nettle stem. John's penis is still a little boy's penis. Not like an older boy's penis. When an older boy wants to drive his penis into a younger boy, it becomes thick and swollen and rigid"
She placed her arm around me.
"And would you like that Oliver? To have another boy, an older boy, do that to you. Well?"
I felt dazed. Did boys do that to each other? Did it hurt?"
"No . . . no, Miss Strang, I . . I wouldn't."
"But if you were a boy, and not a girl . . . If you were sent away to school . . . "
I looked across at John and Simon, who I knew had been listening, while still anxiously striving to complete the work they had been set.
(To be continued)