A Strapping Fine Essay

May 27, 1896
Edith Bowen

“Mr. Carrington, sir?” I asked hesitantly for his attention.

“Yes, Miss Bowen?” He replied with a bit too much formality in his tone.

It is strange to think we were once casual friends. I had felt more at ease with Mister and Misses Carrington than anyone else in my entire life during the last year. Then I had to open my big mouth. I do not regret my opinions and thoughts but perhaps it would have been better for everyone to keep them to myself?

“Might I have a word with you in private, sir?” I asked.

“I am certain my wife can accommodate your needs, Miss Bowen.” He replied coldly.

“I was told to approach you regarding Mr. Birchwood.”

Mr. Carrington’s demeanor immediately changed. He glanced around as though concerned someone might have overheard the name. I know the arrival of our new music teacher is not public knowledge but Mr. Green’s imminent departure certainly is. Unless the student population is particularly unimaginative there should be no doubt a new teacher is expected. In this light I fail to comprehend the secrecy around his name and arrival.

“Come with me.” Mr. Carrington ordered.

I followed him into his study at a brisk pace. He seemed perturbed. The door nearly slammed shut behind me and as I turned around in the middle of room I found him nearly nose to nose with me.

“What do you know of Mr. Birchwood?” He asked.

“Only that he is replacing Mr. Green as music instructor and should be arriving in June.”

“Who told you that?”

“The Dean and Ms. Maple.”

“Why would they tell you this?”

“Because I have been appointed as an intern and directed to assist in his acclimation to Primrose College upon his arrival.”

“I have not been informed of this development. I will have to verify your story.”

“I am not a liar, Mr. Carrington.”

“We shall see. Regardless, you will refrain from mentioning his name in public until his formal induction into the faculty. Understood?”

“I really do not understand the need for secrecy but I understand your directive and will follow it.” I replied.

“We shall make certain of it. Remove your skirt and bend over my desk.” He ordered.
My eyes grew wide for a moment in shock. It took only that instant for me to realize any arguing about it would be useless. My hands fumbled at the waist of my skirt, obeying the order despite the rising indignation in my thoughts.

As my skirt dropped to the floor I comforted myself in the knowledge he was only acting out against me with any random excuse he could find. If I had looked cross-eyed at him he would likely have done the same. It seems to be a law of authority that when one is unable to win an argument by intelligent debate they resort to abusing their power.

The desktop was cold against my face as I lay bent over it. Mr. Carrington took his time in getting to the business of spanking. He pushed and prodded me into adjusting my position. A little to the left and then a little forward, a little to the right, a little back and so on. Were I not certain it would make matters worse I would have laughed.

Mr. Carrington removed a small strap from his desk and took up position behind me. He swung it down fast and hard. The soft sound of its impact was incongruent with its sharp bite. I moaned at the first stroke. The second was lower and the tip of the strap wrapped to my inner leg causing me to lift it from the ground and shake it for moment. Tears sprung from my eyes but I think they might have been more from anger than pain.

The third stroke nearly lifted me off the desk as it solidly stung my thighs. The fourth returned to my fuller buttocks and elicited further moans of discomfort. The biting sting was becoming a burning pain. I wiggled my bottom in a desperation. It was of no help.

Mr. Carrington then laid in to my bottom with a flurry of strokes numbering five through ten. By the latter half of them I was crying out verbally begging for mercy. I wish I was strong enough to hold my tongue despite the pain. I wish I was capable of the feat of taking the punishment in silence and without tears. Only in that way could I truly show the resistance in my heart and thoughts.

He finished with a final two strokes on my thighs. The last sent me jumping in the air and grabbing my buttocks. Mr. Carrington snorted a laugh at me and I blushed red in embarrassment at it.

“Now, I think you understand.” He said.

I bit my quivering lower lip and wiped hot tears from my eyes whilst staring at the rug.

“Yes, sir.” I replied between sniffles.

“Get dressed and get out.” He ordered.

He did not have need to tell me a second time. I grabbed my skirt from the floor and exited the room while still fastening it in place.

It was difficult to sit through my essay examination in Ms. Maple’s class afterward but I managed well enough. I think I even wrote one of my best essays. Perhaps a little squirming is good from time to time. Well, maybe not but there has to be a bright side to being spanked.
Ms. Maple noticed my inability to sit still and held me after.

“Did you have a bit of trouble this morning?” She asked.

“Yes, miss.” I replied.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Mr. Carrington seemed to feel I was out of line asking him about Mr. Birchwood.”

“I can have a word with him if you think it would help?”

“Thank you, miss. I think it might.”

“Well, I think I am a little too old for him to pull out his strap on me.”

I said nothing but I really doubt she has that one correct.


Paul said...

I really have no idea why Edith was strapped.

Jen said...

Paul it seems clear enough to me, she was strapped for mentioning "Birchwood" in public when his name is apparently a secret from all but a few people.

I can remember a few times getting spanked myself for a little indiscretion which at the time made about as much sense as this does to Edith.

Odetta said...

Well written article.