Red Handed

I hate Miss Downing. She is a horrid witch who has decided to make my life as miserable as possible. Since Charlotte’s engagement was announced she has been very full of herself, very pleased with herself, as though she had anything to do with it! The worst thing has been that now Charlotte is getting married she has been excused any further lessons in the schoolroom. I overheard Miss Downing telling Sir George that Charlotte had made excellent progress but that I was a very recalcitrant pupil who would not be ready to leave the classroom for the foreseeable future.

So it is now just Miss Downing and myself in the schoolroom, I have her undivided and very critical attention. I do not believe that there is a single day when I am not punished for some misdemeanour or another. Freddie is very sympathetic, it was just the same for him when Miss Littlefield was his governess. I would love to spend more time with Freddie but often when I am free from the schoolroom he has already gone out on business or visiting his friends.

This morning I simply could not face lessons. When Alice came to wake me I told her that I was feeling unwell and that I would take breakfast in bed. I thought that if I could feign illness all morning then I could make a recovery around lunchtime and then have the afternoon to myself. It meant a morning in bed but that was no hardship compared to a morning in the schoolroom.
Once I had breakfasted and Alice had come and taken the tray away I lay back and closed my eyes and indulged myself in a little daydream. As ever my thoughts took to me cousin Freddie and what had gone on between us. He has yet to make good his promise to teach me the secrets of lovemaking but I knew it would not be long before he came visiting me at night again. I have seen the way he looks at me at dinner and I know that he loves me and wants me. I imagined him coming to my room in the middle of the night and slipping into bed beside me. Of me waking to find him there and taking him in my arms and kissing him. Of his fingers touching me again as he kissed me. Of him telling me how much he loved me and wanted to be my husband. It was a lovely daydream and as I let the images play in my mind I could not resist pulling up the front of my nightdress and allowing my fingers to play.

I was so lost in my fantasy that I did not hear the knock on the door, did not hear someone come in nor become aware of their presence until they spoke.

“Lucinda, what on earth are you doing?!” Miss Downing snapped.

I almost jumped out of my skin! My lovely daydream dissolved in an instant. My eyes shot open to see her standing over me, hands on hips, looking very angry indeed. Before I had chance to react she had whipped back the covers. I had not time to pull my nightdress down. I had been caught, red-handed, and now very red-faced.

“You filthy little girl,” Miss Downing hissed. “I can see exactly what you were doing. How dare you lie there pretending to be ill, abusing yourself in that disgusting way! Get up at once.”

Shamefaced I got out of bed. Miss Downing rang the bell for Alice.

“Alice, Miss Lucinda had made a miraculous recovery,” she said sarcastically. “Would you please help her to wash and dress, I would like her in the schoolroom within the next thirty minutes.”

She stalked out of the room leaving me to Alice’s ministrations.

“I don’t think she’s best pleased with you miss,” Alice remarked.

“She’s never pleased with me,” I said bitterly, “But this time I’m in even more trouble than usual.”

Alice gave a little shudder. “I’m glad I’m not in your shoes Miss Lucy,” she said, “I remember getting the cane from Sir George before you and Miss Charlotte arrived. That’s not something I ever want to repeat.”

At that moment I would gladly have swapped places with Alice. Being a servant at Winterbrook would be a lot easier than being Sir George’s ward under Miss Downing’s rule of terror. Alice could be flighty and silly at times but she was wise enough to see that she had the better position right now. I can’t imagine she would have swapped places with me for all the tea in China.
It was with very heavy steps that I made my way up to the schoolroom. Miss Downing was waiting for me. I shivered when I saw that she already had both a cane and a strap on the desk beside her.

She closed the door behind me and turned the key in the lock.

“I don’t think we want to be disturbed do we Lucinda. It can be very embarrassing if people walk in on you can’t it?”

“Yes miss,” I said.

“I cannot tell you how disappointed and disgusted I am with you Lucinda. You have had a decent enough upbringing to know that what you were doing just now is utterly reprehensible. Masturbation is what it is called and it is a filthy and depraved activity. Indulge in it too often and it becomes an unbreakable habit that eventually leads to moral collapse and madness.”

I felt the tears come to my eyes. I knew that what she was saying was true. It feels so lovely when you do it but it always leaves you feeling guilty so it must be wrong.

“I am a woman like you, with all the natural feelings that women have,” she told me.

I found it hard to believe. I do not think she has an ounce of passion in her but I said nothing, there was no need to antagonise her further.

“I know that lewd thoughts always accompany such behaviour which is another reason why this is a temptation you must always resist. Do you understand me Lucinda?”

“Yes miss,” I said, my face very red. I stared down at my shoes.

“If you can’t control your hands then they must be punished. Hold out your right hand Lucinda.”
I held out my hand, palm upwards. She picked up the narrow leather strap from her desk. She placed it across the middle of my hand. I gritted my teeth. She lifted the strap and then brought it down hard across my open hand. The pain seared across my palm, I stuck my hand under my armpit and squeezed hard, trying to lessen the sting.

“Left hand,” she ordered.

The strap cracked down again and I yelped with pain.

“Right hand.”

Reluctantly I held out my sore hand. She strapped me again, then made me swap hands once more. Six strokes, three on each hand. The strap always hurts, but being strapped on the hands is an absolute agony. I knew that my punishment would not cease there for the cane had so far gone unused.

“Pick up the chalk and go to the blackboard,” she commanded.

I took the chalk in my fingers. My hand was so sore that I could hardly hold it, but I did not say anything, protesting would only making things worse. If there was one lesson that I had learned in Miss Downing’s classroom it was the futility of making complaint when one was being punished. I stood in front of the blackboard and waited for the next instruction.

Miss Downing came up behind me. I stood impassively as she reached down and lifted my skirts. She had a large pin which she used to pin the hem of my skirts to the shoulders of my dress. Her hands were then on the waist tie of my knickers. I could not help but gasp as I felt her untie the ribbon and as my knickers dropped to my ankles.

“You will write on the board – ‘I am a filthy little girl and must learn to resist the temptation to abuse myself.’”

It was so humiliating to have to write those words. I only prayed that they would be rubbed off the board before anyone else came into the classroom. It would be terribly shaming if others were to know what I had been caught doing. My writing was not terribly neat, it was hard to write with my hand hurting so much.

“Read it out.”

I read the words, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible although I could feel the tears welling up. I got to the end of the sentence, there was a swish behind me and the cane landed across my bare bottom, making me squeal. I knew she was going to cane me but hadn’t expected the stroke to follow so suddenly otherwise I would not have reacted so vocally.

“Write it again,” she ordered

The chalk squeaked as I wrote on the blackboard. I have been punished enough by my governess to know the sort of games she likes to play. She was sure to have me cover the whole board in lines and I was sure to get a stroke of the cane after each line. Deliberately I wrote much bigger. It did not fool Miss Downing.

“No Lucinda,” Miss Downing said severely. “You have purposely used a larger hand in order to lessen your punishment. I am wise to your tricks young lady.”

My heart sank as she took the board rubber and erased both lines.

“Start again.”

I wrote the shaming words out and then, as ordered, spoke them aloud. The cane swished behind me and a second stinging line was added to the first.

It was a horrid punishment. It took twelve lines to cover the blackboard with writing. Twelve strokes of the cane across my poor little bottom. I hoped that would be the end of it but Miss Downing had other plans. She rubbed out all the lines and repeated the exercise from the beginning! It has been a long time since I have been beaten so severely. By the time I had taken my two dozen strokes my bottom was so sore that I felt that I would not sit comfortably for a week! She forced me to stand in the corner, holding the cane across my bottom for the rest of the morning. I stood and cried, utterly defeated, utterly miserable.

Why is life do unfair, why must I suffer at the hands of Miss Downing whilst Charlotte is free? Oh, if only Freddie would rescue me, he is my only hope!