The Convent School/Chapter 1

ConventSchoolp11-WS.png

THE CONVENT SCHOOL,

OR

EARLY EXPERIENCES

OF

A YOUNG FLAGELLANT




Chapter I

The Early Life of Lucille



Since, dear Rosie, you are so interested to hear my birching and whipping experiences, I will try to recollect them as well as possible, but hope you will consider my weak state of health, and not press me to tell you too much at once.

Perhaps you do not know that almost from my infancy it was arranged that I should marry the Earl of Ellington, who was about twelve years my senior, being a family compact of a purely mercenary character, designed to consolidate some very doubtful title deeds, which now that our union has proved unfruitful, are likely to entail great expense and annoyance to our heirs-at-law.

My father, you know, was the Honourable Mr. Warton, and my mother died in giving birth to myself, so that I was brought up under a nurse, and afterwards, when about seven years old, a young lady was engaged as governess to instil my juvenile mind with the rudiments of learning, preparatory to being sent to a finishing school.

This lady's name was Miss Birch, and although my papa had known her father, Dr. Birch, for some years, I now believe that the fascination of her name had great influence with him in making a selection from the numerous, and in many instances more eligible ladies, who applied for the situation.

Miss Birch was a dark lady about thirty years of age when she entered our family, very good-looking, rather large pouting mouth, set off with lovely rows of most pearly white teeth, wich, when she, smiled or said much showed to beautiful effect in contrast to her rather swarthy complexion, dark brown eyes, and thick bushy black arching eyebrows, her figure was well moulded and plump, and being about five feet six, she had quite a commanding presence.

I was nearly eight years old before I began to notice the significant looks which occasionally passed between papa and governess, but hints were so often thrown out about the necessity of procuring a good birch rod for the naughty bottom of Lucille, that I was gradually awakened to the discovery of some most mysterious kind of understanding which must subsist between them. My infant brain was much puzzled and alarmed, as I already felt in imagination the tingling smart of the green twigs I so much dreaded.

Miss Birch seemed more exacting and severe over my lessons, especially when papa happened to be in the schoolroom, and now I will tell you my first experience of the rod.

One day after failing both in spelling and arithmetic she rang the bell, and ordered the servant to request Mr. Warton's presence in the schoolroom for a few minutes. Papa entered with a very serious look, requesting Miss Birch to inform him of the cause of sending for him.

"Mr. Warton," said my governess, "you know we have had many serious conversatious about the necessity for proper correction in case Miss Lucille should continue so inattentive to her studies, to-day she has failed in everything, and I am certain that unless her energies are sharpened up by the stinging smart of the rod she will go from bad to worse; I am so averse to wield the birch myself, and would much prefer that her papa should take in hand the serious whipping she ought to have."

Papa.—"Lucille, you hear what Miss Birch says, (I noticed him cast most excited and amourous looks towards the governess as he spoke), she has been most forbearing with you, and interceded with me many times to save your bottom, and even now cannot bring herself to lift her own hand to make you smart a little; it must indeed be a serious fault to induce her to ask me to use the rod, but, 'Spare the rod and spoil the child,' has always been a maxim with me; lay her across you lap, Miss Birch, and pull up her clothes, whilst I get the rod out of the table drawer."

Miss Birch, with heaving bosom, and quite a deep blush upon her face.—"I feel as ashamed at baring her naughty posteriors as if I was going to suffer the degradation and humiliation myself, but come, Lucille dear, you must bear it, and I hope you will be a better and more diligent girl in future." Then catching me by the wrist, as I stood by her side covered with confusion, she tried to lay me across her knees, but I struggled and screamed, "No! No!! No!!! I won't be whipped! Oh! Oh!! dear papa, do forgive me this time!" my face quite crimson and streaming with tears.

Papa, having got out the rod, a fine switch of long thin birch twigs, tied up with velvet and silk ribbons at the handle,—"Come! Come!! Lucille, this resistance will only make it worse for you." As he seized and threw me on the governess's lap, Miss Birch securing my head well under her left arm, speedily pulled up dress and skirts, till my fat little bottom was exposed in a tight fitting pair of drawers, my legs being left to kick about, although I was quite firmly secured, and to all intents quite helpless, and my toes could scarcely touch the ground.

I could hear papa whisking the birch about, and then he said, "That will do famously, Miss Birch, keep her head and shoulders well down as you hold up her skirts; much as I pity my darling little Lucille, I must do my duty and make her smart for her idleness in school."

My face was burning hot with the deep blushes of shame, and I struggled desperately to free my head from the vice-like pressure of Miss Birch's arm, as I begged with piteous sobs to be let off for this once. "Oh! dear papa! Oh! pray don't beat me!"

Papa.—"Indeed, I must, though every blow will send a pang to my own heart, you naughty, bad, inattentive girl, all this has come by your great idleness, and trusting too much to the kind heart of your governess." As he said this, three sharp stinging cuts whacked on my tight-fitting drawers in quick succession.

The pain was intense, I kicked, writhed and screamed for "Mercy! Mercy! Oh! Oh!! I will be good! Oh! Papa! Oh, Miss Birch, do let me go!"

Papa, in quite an excited tone, (for I could see nothing), "So you mean to be good in future! Do you feel the birch is doing you good already? Ha! ha!! my little Lucille, you must have a little more yet to make a perfect cure of you idleness." Whack—whack—whack—whack—four more cuts, each one more agonizing than the last, in spite of my sobbing and screaming. "Now, Miss Birch," he continued, "let her feel it on the bare flesh, open her drawers so we can see the effects of the cuts."

This was at once done, as I cried, "Ah! Ah!! No! No!! Oh, Papa! How cruel!"

Papa.—What a sight. The rod has made her bottom blush finely. It's best to make her feel sore a few days, or she will soon forget it, and relapse into her old ways."

The drawers were unbuttoned, and I could feel they were quite pulled down my thighs, exposing the entire surface of my smarting rump, but I had only a few moments for reflection before the blows fell again in rapid succession, cutting, tearing, and scratching the skin, whilst the boiling blood in my veins seemed to throb as if it must spurt through the pores at every burning touch of the rod.

My head was pressed against the tumultuously heaving bosom of my governess, and notwithstanding the intensity of my suffering, I could plainly hear the beating of her heart, and knew that her thighs were tightly compressed together, whilst a strange tremor pervaded her entire frame.

"There, there, that will do." said Papa, in a very excited tone. "I've drawn the blood for her. Now, Miss Dunce, kneel and kiss the rod, and ask your kind governess to forgive you."

I slipped down on my knees, and hiding my face in my hands in her lap, promised Miss Birch, "if she would forgive me now, to be a better girl in future."

"That will do. I don't want to be too hard upon Lucille this time. We will leave her to think over her disgrace and shame, and let her beware of the birch again," said Papa, taking Miss Birch's hand, to lead her from the room. "This has been a most agitating scene for your governess, who must repose in her private room for a while to recover herself."

The schoolroom door, which opened directly into her private room, was closed upon me, and the key turned in the lock butt all my hurts and bruises were insufficient to distract my attention from the peculiarly warm and excited glances which passed from papa towards my governess, whose face was suffused with blushes, and her eyes turned down, as if afraid to meet his ardent looks as they passed from the room.

My curiosity was excited so much, that I listened at the keyhole. Papa was evidently remaining in the governess's room. I could hear a rustling of her dress, as if some little struggle was taking place; a sound of smothered kisses, and soft expostulatory ejaculations, such as, "I dare not! Oh! No! No!! Not now! Pray leave me! Oh! Oh!!" Then an almost perfect quiet, except for a slight rustling sound, and, now and then, broken sighs with heavy breathing.

At last all was quiet, and having now been left more than half-an-hour to myself in the schoolroom, I ventured to tap at the door and beg Miss Birch to let me into her room, as I would never, never, offend again.

After a very slight delay, the door was unlocked, and my governess received me with expressions of great tenderness, kissed her poor Lucille, and hoped my poor bottom was not too sore. Her eyes were melting with what I should now call a soft voluptuous languor, and scintillated with extraordinary brilliancy, all of which set my young ideas in a flutter of wonderment, as to the extraordinary cause of her prolonged emotion.

Things went on pretty smoothly for some time, but I found it quite impossible to avoid coming under the rod every now and then, the chastisement getting more severe on every fresh occasion.

Papa always had to handle the twigs, and when I began to get older, Miss Birch would tie me up and leave the room, as she pretended to be quite unable to bear the scene. Still papa would always go into her sanctum at the conclusion of my whipping, to talk the matter over with my governess.

I will tell you of a fearful birching, the last I had before being sent to the Convent School: it does not matter what the fault was, but it must have been something very serious. Papa and Miss Birch both helped to tie me up on a four poster bed in my own room. I was stripped of every thing but my skirts and drawers, which were all secured and arranged so as to expose my back parts in the best possible manner for whipping. My hands were tied to the bed post high above my head, and making me kneel on the bed, one leg was secured at the knee to the same post, my other leg being left free to kick about.

Miss Birch vanished, and papa arming himself with a formidable rod, elegantly trimmed as usual, began by lecturing me on my fault.

"You impudent girl, I can scarcely believe it of you, Lucille, now you are just upon twelve, but this is the last whipping you will get at my hands, and I promise you it shall be a sound one, and then I'll pack you off to the convent, with instructions to the sisters to be very strict in looking after you."

"Oh! Oh!! Papa," I implored, "Have mercy, don't be so severe, indeed I won't do it again!"

"Hold your tongue, Miss," he said, impatiently, "you always cry before you are hurt, but you shall remember this whipping as long as you live;" giving me a slashing cut round my loins, then another, and another on each cheek of my buttocks, "how do you like it, you bad girl! will you turn over a new leaf when you leave home? Will you? Will you? Will you? Will you?" Each question being accompanied by a terrific smarter; the blows seemed to cut like a red hot knife, and my boiling blood tingled from the tips of my fingers to the ends of my toes. I could feel great burning bursting weals rising on my skin at every cut; I screamed and plunged till the bed-post creaked with the strain, and my wrists and knee were quite pained by the tight ligatures by which they were secured.

"Let this be a solemn warning to you, Miss Lucille," he continued, "but I'm afraid all my efforts for your reformation are quite thrown away upon such a worthless baggage," cutting away still more furiously, and as I turned my head to scream and implore for mercy, I could see how excited he was over the business with flushed face and sparkling eyes; he was a fine handsome man of about forty-five, and gave me the idea of looking as if in the midst of a tremendous battle.

Anything but a bloodless battle for me; my bottom was soon dripping with the ruby drops of my young blood, the sight of which seemed only to exasperate him still more.

"Ah! You little wretch. Scream away!" he exclaimed. "It's a beautiful sight to see you writhing and plunging under every scathing cut. May it do you good, and draw the imprudence out of your tail. Will you? Will you, try and behave better, or shall I send you off to the convent at once, in their holiday time? There! There!! There!!!"

He finished with three tremendous cuts, without waiting for my reply, and sank back, gasping for breath, into an easy chair.

It was quite a minute or two before my screams and moans of agony subsided. Then Miss Birch coming in, released my hands and leg, and ordering me to rest on the bed for a while, retired with my father locking the door behind them.

The smarting sensation now turned to a delicious voluptuous warmth, as I lay under the bed clothes. My right hand was passed all over the glowing surface of my buttocks, and seemed at last, quite unwittingly to settle itself on my hairless little cunny. I turned on my belly with my hand still under me, and wriggling as I lay thinking over all the cuts I had received, gradually found a most pleasing sensation from the rubbing of my hand and the two forefingers mechanically worked into the slit, squeezing my legs together, I rubbed on to increase the pleasureable emotions which I felt driving me to strive and obtain, I knew not what. The frenzy now threw me into such a state of excitement that my fingers were plunged as far as possible up my virgin cunny, as I gasped, writhed, and tossed my bottom up and down. The crisis came at last, and my furious efforts were rewarded by a most heavenly emission; my soul seemed to flow from me at the moment, and left me in a delightful state of voluptuous lethargy, which lasted for some minutes, and when at length I regained my serenity, it was to find my fingers, cunny, and things all sticky from the thick spermy emission of my first maiden spend. There was also a slight stain of blood, for I had actually ravished myself in my furious excitement.

I got up and sponged myself, then lay down to reflect on the curious and delicious emotions I had procured for myself, and determining to soon have a repetition of my secret joys, fell asleep to dream of being in the arms of a most lovely boy about my own age, who seemed to impart to my ravished senses another taste of what I had already felt.

Awaking in a struggle to retain my love-bird, I found myself bedewed by another emission, but at last I slept with tranquility, aud never shall I forget my first taste of joy that day.



ConventSchoolp62-WS.png