Chapter 1
"Oh please... no... not on the
bare..." At their governess's repetition of her instructions, the two girls
bending over the back of the white and gilt sofa wailed in dismay, gripping the
front edge with both hands, shaking their fair ringlets wildly.
"You will give them their
punishment upon their bare bottoms!" the stepmother had said.
"Upon their bare bottoms,
Lady Horter." Harriet Brown had repeated her employer's severe instructions,
gripping her cane nervously in a moist hand.
This was the first time in her short career as a governess that she had
been obliged to give her youthful female charges a thrashing. Lady Horter had been adamant that it must be
the governess's responsibility to act upon her complaint. Of course to spare
the rod was to spoil the child! However
well Harriet might understand the girls being insolent to the wholly unlovable
woman who had attracted Colonel Sir Percy Horter's drink-fuelled lust and then
contrived to have him marry her by bearing him a second male child, they must
learn to be obedient. And, like them,
Harriet was required to obey.
Sighing, she lifted
Letitia's muslin petticoats to expose a perfect peach-like bottom squirming
nervously over the narrow mahogany rim of the sofa back, her legs in white silk
stockings gartered in pink just above the knee, her toes in neat leather
slippers just touching the Aubusson carpet. She did the same to Lydia, who at
fourteen was longer legged and whom Harriet noted showed a wisp of ginger hair
between her well-formed thighs.
Hardening her resolution, Harriet did her duty. The cane swished and
cracked twice, followed by two mingled howls. The two bottoms showed almost
identical red lines. "You will both be
assured of perfect fairness!" she assured them earnestly as she continued to
impress the rest of the lesson in quick double strokes.
"Six with the cane, good and hard!" Lady Horter had decreed. "And mind, though out of sight, I will be
watching how you perform your duties!"
Harriet Brown, 19 years old
orphan daughter of a struggling apothecary, had been governess for a year of
the twelve and fourteen year old daughters of Colonel Sir Percy Horter,
residing at his house in a remote and backward area of Cornwall.
A few days later, Harriet was in her small
garret bedroom clad only in her shift and preparing for bed, having let down
her dark hair to brush the luxuriant length she was so proud of, reaching as it
did well below her waist, when her employer burst in accompanied by her maid,
the fat cook and a fawning constable, the lady shrilly accusing Harriet of
theft and directing a search of her room.
The governess' romantic
relationship with their elder brother Tom, an ensign in the militia, currently
absent with his regiment in Dublin, had been revealed to their step mother in
revenge by the two girls, Letitia and Lavinia.
Alerted by them, Lady Horter had intercepted a letter in which Tom's
expressions of love disclosed how far the affair had gone and mentioning a ring
and gold locket he had given Harriet in earnest of his intention to marry
her. Lady Horter, whose daintiness of
figure concealed a steely will, wrote at once to her husband warning him of a
wicked plot laid by the new governess, to ensnare and elope with the young
heir. The Colonel, alarmed by her
account, had at once pulled strings to have young Tom given the immediate
commission in a regular regiment that he had desired, ensuring that it was one
imminently to be shipped overseas.
Meanwhile, his lady was in
search of the ring and locket, having summoned the constable with the
revelation that the new governess was a thief.
The search of Harriet's bedroom disclosed the ring and the gold locket,
Tom's intended love token, still containing his deceased aunt's portrait, since
a replacement miniature of himself had yet to be ordered.
"Out of this house, you
thief! You liar! Take her to the House
of Correction, the she-villain! I will not have her under my roof!" the
triumphant lady ordered.
"Please...! At least... let me
dress!" Harriet cried, agitated by the presence in her bedroom of a man while
she was so skimpily clad.
"Clothes provided by my wages! Not a further
stitch shall you have!" Lady Horter slapped Harriet into breathless silence
where she was being held in the grip of the muscular cook. "The wicked creature
will fit her lying tongue to her purpose!" she demanded of the constable.
"Surely you have the proper answer for that?"
The officer produced the piece of equipment
he had been instructed to bring with him, one normally used for the silencing
of foul-tongued female offenders. With Harriet being held by the two servants
he fitted the cage of flexible iron bands over her head and face, fastening it
with a hinged metal strap and a padlock behind.
The central descending vertical divided either side of Harriet's nose
and from the connecting band across her mouth a long leaf-shaped piece of metal
thrust deeply in past her teeth to hold her tongue down flat. Arrested at her employer's behest and charged
with the theft of the gold locket, Harriet could now only gurgle a response
and, clad in nothing but her shift, she was hurried off to the House of
Correction a few streets away.
The title was more grandiose than the fact
for it was only the former principal gate-tower in the ruined town wall, now
used as a prison for those miscreants condemned to whippings or hard labour by
the magistrates and as the holding place for felons awaiting the next
assizes. Its crumbling stonework and pantile
roof sagging from neglect let in the rain even into the cells below
ground. Harriet lay all night in the
muddy dampness, trying to keep herself from the dripping walls. It was impossible to avoid the mud and by morning
she was a dismal sight as she was led before the magistrate. The resident
magistrate of the town was Lady Horter's father who normally held his courts in
the principal inn, but on this occasion from consideration to his daughter and
her elevated station he agreed to hear the case in the panelled dining room of
his own house. Seated in a high backed
chair behind the gleaming width of a mahogany dining table he was flanked by
his daughter. Harriet stood in a dirty
shift and with her hair bedraggled straggling around the rusty iron straps of
the bridle, muddy feet bare on the thick carpet. At one end of the table a bespectacled clerk
busied himself making notes and looking as frequently to Lady Horter as to the
witnesses or the accused. The constable
recounted the circumstances of his being summoned and the maid, the cook, and he
related the discovery of the gold chain and locket and representing Harriet as
having struggled and been put under restraint.
Lady Horter then left her
seat to take up the position of witness, identifying the locket as her property
from her husband, and testifying that Harriet, after blustering that the item
had been stolen for her by her master's son Thomas, had struggled to escape so
fiercely as to have to be restrained.
Harriet could only mumble
when her stiff tongue was freed from its restraint, in any case all that she
could say had been countered. Without
Tom's presence her possession of the items was seeming proof enough. She had been warned that if she pursued the
course of blaming Tom too far she would be accused of fornication instead and
as he was still a few months under age, probably fare even worse. She resolved at last to spare her tongue and
trust that her lover's return would put things right. No character witnesses came forth since,
being a newcomer to the district, Harriet knew no-one intimately enough for
them to brave Lady Horter's wrath. As
she had miserably anticipated, Harriet was found guilty of theft but the
sentence announced to her horror was that she was to be whipped at the cart
tail through the town streets on the fair day following.
That was but two days away,
but when the day came she was so muddy and bedraggled that Master Pounder, the
part-time gaoler who doubled as the town butcher, decided she should first be
given a bath which was done at the hands of his briskly impatient wife. First her shift and then Harriet herself,
were soused and scrubbed in a wooden tub in the open yard with the excited
junior Pounders, two little girls and a male infant handing their dame, kettle,
soap or long handled scrubbing brush as required. Mistress Pounder kept up a steady chatter of
admonition to her offspring and disapproval of Harriet's wickedness to which
she dared make no reply after having been smartly spanked with the flat back of
the scrubbing brush as a warning not to sully the ears of children with her
lies. She was glad at least to be clean
again though ashamed to have to posture herself so as to be scrubbed more
thoroughly under breasts and belly and between the legs where the little girls
exclaimed at her hairiness. Then, since
her own shift was wet, Harriet was given an old one belonging to the gaoler's
wife as a replacement before being taken out to be attached to the cart that
her husband had been preparing in the outer gate arch.
A draught ox stood between
the shafts, alarmingly suggesting that Harriet's progress was likely to be
excruciatingly slow, her humiliation that much prolonged. As she was tied by
the wrists to the rear of the vehicle with a length of rope, she imagined the
feeling of the lash upon her bare flesh, the staring faces of the fair-day
crowds the titters and sniggers at the exposure of her shame, dragged half
naked through the streets. Since
Mistress Pounder was twice Harriet's girth, the décolletage of the replacement
shift was easily pulled wide over her shoulders and the upper part of the
garment drawn down to her waist to be roughly tucked in to hang slackly about
her white hips. Above it she was naked
and only the clinging ropes of her wet hair served to partly conceal her
pouting breasts. She was prohibited by
the replacement of the scold's bridle from forming any last minute
self-justification or plea for mercy, but the sounds of high female voices
raised in argument gave her sudden hope.
Mrs Macgiven was head of the Ladies Society
for the Reformation of Female Vice. It
seemed that her vigilant committee had objected to the indecency of such an
abandoned hussy, being displayed half-naked before a mob of drunken men for
their lascivious examination of her charms.
Lady Horter conceded that it was notorious for fair days to produce
riotous behaviour that sometimes took directions not to the liking of the
persons in authority. "But where is the
use of making an example of her, if no-one is to see it?" she asked
The other conceded. "If such treachery by one
who is an upper servant should pass unnoticed we would be unable to trust any
of our servants!" She suggested that it
would be their duty to organise a party to supervise the punishment, made up of
the ladies of the society and such of their daughters and maidservants whom
they felt would benefit from the example. Lady Horter concurred and sent to her
father to obtain his assent therefore, to altering the sentence of a whipping
at the cart tail for a punishment to be carried out in the prison yard. The magistrate was busy supervising the
opening of the fair but his assent came in due course, acceding to his
daughter's alternative suggestion of a thorough birching of four dozen strokes,
the public nature to be maintained by its being performed before an audience of
ladies.
In this way Harriet, to whom no explanation
had been offered, was unexpectedly released from the cart. A stout wooden stool had been placed in the
centre of the yard, over which she was now thrust face downward, her single garment
slipping over her hips and down to her knees in the process. None of the attending ladies deigned to
remedy this. "It will serve us just as
well as having her skirts thrown up!" Mrs Macgiven observed. Harriet lay folded
over the wooden seat, with her elbows and knees strapped tightly each to one of
the four legs, naked to the tops of her black woollen stockings, her bare
bottom at the highest point and her breasts dangling beneath her like pale ripe
fruit.
"The creature isn't breeding, is she?" one of
the ladies ventured. "She has such an enormous pair of bubbies!"
From this unpalatable idea,
Lady Horter quickly diverted attention.
"I am glad to see that you have given her a good scrubbing, Mistress
Pounder!" she called. "I trust that she gave you no trouble?"
"Not at all my lady! She was perfectly submissive."
"I am glad to know that she
is sensible of her position."
Of course Harriet had not dared disobey the
formidable Mistress Pounder, lest her even more alarming husband be called upon
for assistance. She had another wait
while chairs were hastily brought in and placed in two half circles about her,
those in front for the reception of the various ladies who had been invited as
witnesses, and those to the rear for their daughters or maids who were felt to
be in need of the instructive experience.
"We cannot properly hear her
response to the birch, nor observe her face," Mrs Macgiven complained. "A
girl's cries and changes of expression while she is being punished should
always be a properly instructive example to the young." Harriet's tongue was therefore released from
its restraint and her hair was drawn up from where it hung curtain-like down to
the dust, various ladies volunteering grips with which to bundle it up on her
head and neck.
Having been refreshing himself in the nearby
tavern, the gaoler had reappeared in a new guise. He had stripped to his shirt, the open neck
showing a black mat of hair, his sleeves rolled up. It was also his appointed duty to administer
whippings of all sorts and, apprised of the punishment ordained, he carried in
his big fist one of his supple birches, fresh and glistening wet from the brine
tub. Trapped in her upside down
viewpoint, Harriet let out a horrified cry, craning her neck to follow his
progress. During her imprisonment, she
had often shuddered to contemplation of the massive frame and bristly red face
of the gaoler with his big hands and his hairy forearms bulging with
muscle. Now the sight of that meaty right
hand swishing a lengthy collection of knobbly black birch rods, bound tightly
at one end with cord revealed the exact nature of the dreadful instrument that
was to be used upon her.
She had to wait yet longer
in contemplation of this, while Lady Horter punctiliously called the ladies'
attention to the birch, urging them to pass it from hand to hand and inviting
their comments. Meanwhile Harriet's fear
of the birch competed in her mind with shame at how much she was forced to
expose to the eyes of Master Pounder standing to her rear, her legs having been
bent at the knees and fastened wide enough apart to accommodate the splay of
the supports of the stool. By the time
that the birch was returned after many expressions of approval to the gaoler's
hand, she was almost thankful that it was to be at last begun. She clutched the stool with white knuckles,
while her trembling knees knocked against the wood that parted them, though she
resolved not to disgrace herself as a gentleman's daughter under the scrutiny
of all these cruel and snobbish females.
Thwackkk!!! She nearly lost her resolve at the first
meaty smack. The supple birch splayed wide upon impact and the biting sting of
individual stems was replicated a dozen times in the one strike across her
plump flesh. She gritted her teeth desperately.
Thwackkk!!!
Another swathe of fire landed across her cringing bottom cheeks and she
tried to burrow her belly through the impenetrable timber. Her head tossed and
shrill hisses emerged from between contorted lips.
Thwackkk!!! Harriet's entire bottom now felt as if it was
being flayed. Her lips writhed and
gurgles emerged from deep within her white throat. She looked in terror and panic towards the
pale faces of the onlookers for signs of pity, but they swam like wet blobs in
her tear-filled view.
"See how insolently defiant
the villainess is!" Lady Horter said loudly.
Thwackkk!!!
Pain fell upon already existing pain and the gurgles burst out in
anguished wail.
Thwackkk!!!
Thwackkk!!! Thwackkk!!! Harriet
tried to set her teeth again, but shrill squeals continuously escaped her. She made the stool rock as she bucked and
twisted, trying somehow to spread the pain, feeling her pubic mound grinding
fruitlessly against the rounded edge of the seat. Her face had turned scarlet, her head jerking
up and down involuntarily while she alternately squealed, gurgled and hissed.
Thwackkk!!! Thwackkk!!!
Thwackkk!!! Harriet's bottom
bounced wobbled and squirmed under the repeatedly descending birch. Strands of hair had escaped the confining
pins and stuck to wet cheeks, her shift slid off to lie crumpled about her
ankles, her stockings began to slip down her threshing legs, fragments of birch
bark had flown off and clung to her naked back and flanks. At each impact of the flexing scourge her
belly thumped the stool, which creaked in protest in its turn, her legs kicking
as if to try to run away and her hands clawing at the air as if desperate to
interpose themselves in defence. Sounds escaped her, but with words garbled by
the impacts, were barely distinguishable as pleas for mercy.
Thwackkk!!!
Thwackkk!!! The gaoler tried for
parts he had not so far covered and the swishing birch fell alternately across
Harriet's white thighs and then her upper hips, striping them as deeply red raw
as the rest. After only twelve strokes,
the unfortunate ex-governess was giving vent to throat-tearing appeals to have
pity with yet another twenty-eight still due to her. Her round bottom had been turned a general
scarlet hue, liberally flecked with sharper marks where the little knobbly
irregularities of the birch had bitten deeper.
Red-faced with beer and effort, the gaoler rested his arm for the moment
and Lady Horter surveyed the engrossed faces of the ladies.
"Master Pounder! You do good work!" she pronounced. "At this moment the slut is obviously feeling
very repentant indeed! But what is
swiftly over is swiftly forgotten!" Mrs
Macgiven nodded vigorously in agreement. "A spell of reflection, during which
she can reflect upon what is to come, will doubtless impress the lesson even
more firmly."
They sent to the magistrate
again, leaving Harriet sobbing bitterly on her stool of penitence with her
reddened bottom exposed to view in the cool air, while the appreciative ladies
were served with refreshments brought in, at Lady Horter's expense, from the
coffee room of the Horter Arms. The
gaoler meantime retired as well to anticipate his fee by treating his cronies
at the public bar of that same establishment.
From time to time one or other of the ladies inspected Harriet, estimating
with cool hands the degree of heat emanating from her flagellated hind
parts. The magistrate, when tracked
down, impatiently referred the matter to the discretion of the ladies and so by
general agreement the continuance of the rest of the sentence was allowed to be
suspended until the day following and ordered to be administered to Harriet in
the same place and manner at the rate of six strokes of the birch each day,
until the sentence was completed. The time
was settled to be at two in the afternoon by the striking of the town clock so
as to allow the interested ladies ample time to dress and prepare themselves.
Held in durance in the House of Correction,
Harriet was brought out accordingly to be birched, at two o'clock prompt every
day before a similar audience, until on the next to last day just as she was
being led out, a letter arrived from Tom.
She had to undergo the six slashing strokes of the birch with the
missive unopened in her fingers, clutched tightly for fear of losing it. Back in her cell, kneeling on the flagstones
since she couldn't sit, with her tears adding to the mud, she read the crumpled
paper at last.