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 your 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.