An English Education

Another excerpt from a P.N. Dedeaux story, An English Education. This is at the beginning of the book and describes Jane's punishment at the hands of the son and daughters of her guardian. Modified here and there, and with a different ending.

John, Eliza and Georgiana were clustered around the fireplace – in the withdrawing
room, roasting chestnuts. Mrs. Reed had
relinquished her darlings to recline on her bed for a
while. She usually arose, dark-eyed, around five.
Me, she had dispensed from joining their group,
saying she must really exclude me from privileges
intended only for contented, happy children.
A morning-room, little visited, lay at one end of
the house and I slipped in there, to keep away from
their tormentings. ‘Let’s have some fun with Jane’
was all too often their favourite game at such
moments. The room contained a book-case. I soon
possessed myself of a volume and mounted into a
window-seat, drawing the red moreen curtain close.

The door opened and I
heard the poisonous whisper of John Reed.
‘Boh! Miss Mope!’ He paused, finding the room
evidently empty. ‘Where the dickens is she? Lizzy!
Georgy! Jane is not here. Tell Mama she is run out
into the rain – bad girl!’
It was well I had drawn the curtain, I was
thinking, fervently hoping that John Reed would
not discover my hiding-place. Nor would he have
himself, for he was not quick either of vision or
conception, but Eliza’s voice snapped sharply,
‘She’s in the window-seat, to be sure, Jack.’
A fleshed feminine arm shot through, two plump
fingers clipped an ear-lobe, and I was sent spinning
into the room by Eliza, the eldest, my book flying.
‘Please’, I cried at once. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Leave me alone … what?’ came the boy’s
answer.
‘Say Master Reed.’
‘Master Reed’, I repeated, nursing an injured ear.
‘Come here’, he said and, seating himself in an
armchair, he intimated by a gesture that I was to
approach and stand before him. His sisters stood to
either side of me. Georgiana was grinning, but
Eliza’s face was baleful. I trembled already.

‘Thrash her, Jack!’
John Reed was a senior schoolboy a little older than I. For, though well filled-out in bosom and bottom, I was still a schoolgirl.
Large and stout for his age, with a dingy and
unwholesome skin, thick lineaments in a spacious
visage, heavy limbs and large extremities, the lad
gorged himself at table and had little love for his
younger sister, Georgiana, sixteen, but a perversely
precocious adoration for his elder by a year, Eliza.
Me he bullied and punished continually. Every
nerve I had feared him, and every morsel of flesh I
had on my bones shrank when he came near. There
were moments when I was bewildered by the terror
he inspired, because I had no appeal whatever
against either his menaces or his inflictions; the
servants disliked me and would never want to
offend their young master by taking my part, while
Mrs. Reed was blind and deaf on the subject. She
never saw him strike or heard him abuse me,
though he did both in her presence – more
frequently, however, as now, behind her back.
Habitually obedient to John in order to ’scape off
– for bitter experience had told me he only struck
harder resisted – I came up to his chair as he
beckoned. To my right stood – towered – Eliza, who
was already tall and massive,
sensual of face which was usually scowling when
directed to me. A dark beauty, she wore her dresses,
as now her royal blue wool, close, with little
beneath, so that the material moved visibly over
her roundnesses when she walked; at times she
seemed to rustle as she stood. By contrast,
Georgiana was a very sweet sixteen, cheerful and
smiling; her tip-tilted face seemed not to know a
care. Her body was all lissom and liquid; under the
dove-grey silk she had on now her breasts bulged
broadly outwards. I should mention that to remind
me continually of my ‘place’ (or lack of it) in this
household I alone had to wear short skirts. The
flowery dress I had on stopped above my knees, where
it flared, swirling to my tremblings, ‘the easier to
lift up’, as they liked to remind me.

‘What were you doing behind the curtain?’ asked
my male inquisitor.
‘Reading.’
‘Show me the book.’
As I went to recover it, Eliza ticked. ‘Give her a
sound swishing, Jack. ’Tis all the little puppy
understands.’

‘She deserves it just for the look in those lovely
blue eyes, doesn’t she just’, agreed Georgiana with a chuckle; and while the book was being inspected,
she chucked me under the chin, saying, ‘Come,
Janey, don’t look so cheerful about it. A good hiding
won’t kill you. It’ll only make you want to jump out
of your skin a bit. Anyhow, you’re getting so fat
behind you won’t feel a thing.’ At which her hand
roved under my skirt and cupped a knickered
chubbie. ‘Lord, Jack, this b.t.m. is fairly begging for
it. What a juicy bum. Do give her a really tight one
this time, like you do your fags at school.’
‘She deserves a sixer for her sneaking way of
getting behind curtains’, added Eliza swiftly. ‘Cut
her to ribbons, Jack, and make her cry.’
‘Please’, I said unsteadily, crimsoning at
Georgiana’s feeling fingers.
The boy frowned in his inspection. ‘You have no
business to take our books, you are a dependent;
Mama says so; you ought to beg, and
not to live here with gentleman’s children like us,
and eat the same meals as we do, and wear clothes
at our Mama’s expense. Now I’m going to teach you
to rummage my book-shelves.
Replace this book’ – he tossed it to me – ‘and then
stand out there with your back to us, and lift up your
skirt.’
While I went to do his bidding, the usual
homiletic exchange continued.
‘How many are you going to give her, Jackie?’
‘Let me position her. She hates it so, bending
over.’
‘She hates it anyhow. But draw it out, Jack. Last
time you were far too swift.’
‘Yes, make her feel it absolutely. Right behind
the eyes.’
‘By George! I feel like Nero. Stiff as a ramrod
already.’

By now I stood facing away from them, and glad
to be so, fingers on my hems.
‘Get it up’, said John Reed.
I hesitated, half-turning. ‘Please. You don’t
have to …’
The air sang. Eliza struck strongly. My head
flashed. I tottered and on regaining equilibrium
shook it like a dog. Then she left-and-righted me
with great welting slaps that bounced my head
between her hands like a ball. I gripped my skirt
and lifted it high, mewing with pain, half-dazed.
‘That’s better.’
I was at that age. Always inclined to be a rumpy
specimen I was conscious of my buttocks from the
first. Clad in tight white batiste knickers,
reaching halfway down my thighs, and beribboned
there, they were firm and springy without being
hard, with a jaunty jut that held them off my back
on closely braced white thighs – I was only permitted plain stockings and suspenders by Mrs. Reed.
I heard hisses of admiration behind me.
‘A ripe pair. Made for whipping, Jack. Drum taut
and in prime condition.’
‘And nicely cleft, with plenty of overhang.’
‘What a bum! This is better than swishing some
cringing fag, ain’t it!’
‘Pull her knickers tighter, Georgy, do.’
Georgy did – so hard that it hurt me in the
crotch.
‘Yes, I think I can make you feel sorry for
yourself, Jane Eyre’, said the boy. He stood up.
‘Now bend down and touch your toes and spread ’em
well, and let’s take a good look at what we have to
deal with here.’
I did as bid, striving to keep my thighs together
so that the plum of my person would not pouch
through and all too aware that indeed it did so, the
plump oval at the top of my legs clearly outlined
under the thin, almost transparent stuff. I heard
Eliza’s voice.

‘You’d like to stick this into her there, wouldn’t
you, beast, and make her squeal!’
I saw them upside down; Eliza had her right arm
slung round her brother, her left palm stroking up
the boy’s big brutal erection, clearly visible up the
left side of his thin fawn trousers.
I gasped. Fingers palped my seam. Georgiana
chuckled creamily.
‘She’s growing fat here, too. And hairy.’
‘What did you expect’, said the brother harshly,
‘feathers?’
‘She was a billiard-ball a year since. You could
hardly get a finger in her cunt. Look at it now. The
greedy thing.’
‘Stop it, Liz. If you’re not careful, I’ll cream.’
Then to me – ‘Stand up. That buttock’s going to look
better for a few lines across it. Fetch the cane.’ At the
door I caught his snarl – ‘The long one, mind.’

My steps took me through corridors to a flagged
passage, giving on an elmy lawn. It was here John
Reed kept his things, a racket or two, a cricket bat,
and stick. Against a gun case leant two canes.
You devils! I said to myself as I selected the
slightly longer and held it like a serpent in my
hand. How I should like to break and burn you both!
These lithe rods, which the boy brought back from
school, were the living instruments of my agony at
these perverse children’s hands. How I loathed
them both!
Each was long, smoothly round, yellow and lean,
full of whip and cut, with tips hard as stone – it
was there one felt them most, as well my poor sides
knew. Each had a small knob-like protrusion to grip
one end.
Georgiana and Eliza were birched - and severely - by their governess. Only I suffered the lash of the cane. Mrs Reed used the shorter one on the rare occasions I really deserved it. John Reed used the other.
My marrow drained as I held the longer and, I
thought, leaner of the pair. It quivered livingly as
if all its sleek, soulless length were greedy to get on
with the task of cutting into my bottom. I made off
with it in my hand, head bowed. On my way I met
an under-maid, a pretty, pert girl called Olive,
who gave me a grin as she went by, plus a roguish
wink and much rubbing of herself behind. The staff
were happy when little Jane was ‘for it’. How
many? my heart was hammering, dear God how
many?
Red in the face, John Reed was doing up his
trouser buttons when I re-entered. Georgiana was busy with an
ottoman she had pulled out into the room.
‘Here is the cane’, I said, as composedly as I
could. Experience had taught me that in these
circumstances the best thing was not to get them all
excited.
He took off his jacket and rolled up his right
shirt-sleeve.
‘I’m going to give you six for impertinence. Get
over.’
‘Six is not fair’, I said. My heart leapt. I had
hoped for less. A ‘sixer’ with that whippy stick
could be hell.
‘It’s what you’re going to get’, snapped Eliza.
‘Across these lovely juicy beauties.’ I turned at
the touch. Pretty Georgiana confronted me, grey
eyes twinkling, her simple snub face guilelessly
smiling. ‘Come, Jane’, she said, leading me to one
end, the familiar one, of the ottoman. ‘Feeling nice
and jellyish inside? I should if I were you. I’m
afraid it’s going to sting like the dickens. Now
then, just take ’em down, Miss Impudent.’
I recoiled at this.
‘No. You don’t have to …’
There was silence. John Reed lashed the air with
his rod twice, sickeningly. Then he thudded it
eloquently into a chair-back. Puffs of dust ensued. I
gulped.
‘Two extra for keeping on your clothing.’
‘Please’, I asked, near tears now. ‘It isn’t fair. My
… things are thin and won’t protect me at all …’
‘Say your knickers.’
‘My knickers. And, and you can see the marks
through. So’s to aim. It’s not fair to bully me, and
use me so, and …’
Eliza seethed. ‘Make it three more, John. Such
modesty in a parson’s chit is simple cheek.’
‘l’Il make her sorry with eight, don’t worry.’
‘Eight lovely slices’, gloated the grinny
Georgiana, sitting on the ottoman and taking my
hands in hers. ‘Bend over, Janey.’

A smouldering sense of injustice burnt through me
as I bent over the armchair in my usual punishment position. Drawn
forward by Georgiana’s grip, I bent over, legs braced
and together, my posterior rounded. She pulled me
firmly forward. Georgiana liked to watch my face during punishment.
Eliza whipped my skirt onto my back and tugged
even tighter my bursting knickers. She liked to
watch the strokes land from behind. I felt the measuring tap of the
long stick on my skin. All was ready for the fray.
It occurred to me that it would have been better to strip. Really hurting me through my knicks would be a challenge the boy would rise to. But he had never seen me completely bare, much as he had tried, and I would not give him that pleasure now.








Too fast, John Reed went away. I squeezed my eyes
tight shut.
Eliza said, ‘Really hard now. Just over the
crease.’
There was a long silence. I opened my eyes. Then
he came forward at me. The air throbbed with that
curious desolating whirr of a whippy cane; this was
completed by the meaty thud of impact. My head
jerked, I gasped as if flung into icy water, but no
more. I was determined not to show them how horribly it
hurt. He had laid the rod full across my fattest
parts of my bottom and now stood back as the pain flamed up the
whole of my hams, drenching me in its sting.
Georgiana cooed in one ear – ‘One. Only seven
more to go, Janey.’
Thhhwulck!
Two. Then three. The bendy whack of the cane
into tightly stretched bottom flesh was now echoed by my breathy
gasps of pain.
‘Lower, Jack’, whispered Eliza. ‘Cut down more
now.’
Four, five and six were all ferocious strokes, and
the last made me jump up and cry out, ‘Oh no!’
Georgiana held my hands, dewy-eyed, smiling.
‘Two more’, she said huskily.
Then my head buzzed. The accumulated agony of the
cuts began to overcome me and I heard my throat
emit a dry whine.
‘Bend her over properly, Georgy. I want to come
under her well these last two.’
‘Slice her in two, Jack’, urged Eliza.
Whhhhrupp! Red-hot fire lashed my poor soft
buttocks and I sprang erect with a cry, tearing my
hands from Georgiana’s grasp and riveting them to
my agonized posteriors.

"Now you're for it Janey", said Georgiana.
I turned around and faced him, my hands busy on my bottom.
He smiled, flexing that whippy cane.
"Rising and rubbing your bum without per earns you three extras, Jane Eyre" he said, "Bend over!"
I turned to obey, all resistance beaten out of me, and then he added, "But I will let you off the extras if you strip."
I knew what I had to do. One more would be torment but four more...
I reached for the waistband of my knickers and slowly eased them down over my scorching bottom.

Dear reader: You will just have to imagine the seven livid weals low across these perfect bottom cheeks!












I held out my arms to Georgina and resumed the position.
Some girls can bend over and not show much at all while others hardly have to bend to have everything on show. I am decidedly one of the latter category. But even that was not enough for him.
"Spread your legs, Jane Eyre!"
Eliza pushed them apart as far as my knickers would allow.
"Now stick out your bum!"
I did so, knowing how lewdly it exposed me to his gaze.

I know I have a prominent sphincter and that this was the focus of his attention. He seemed to stare for a long time.
Then he raised the cane and lashed it low across my naked buttocks.
I cried out and pulled again against Georgiana's grip, but she held me fast.

My tears and snot dripped onto the chair.
Then at last, "Permission".
My hands flew to my bottom and I stood up.
I wiped my streaming eyes on my glove and slowly eased my knickers back up and over my burning behind.
His trousers were bulging.
"Take the cane back and go to your room, and let that be a lesson to you!"
I took the rod and opened the door. Olive the maid was there, red faced. She had been listening.
"What a swishing!" she said, then added in her silly way, for she was no stranger to John Reed's rod herself, "Did it hurt?"
"Yes, Olive, it hurt very much indeed"
"Shall I come up with you and put some cold cream on?" She blushed as she said it.
I hesitated for I knew what this would lead to, but I knew that in half an hour I would want it just as much as she did, so with a blush to match hers I consented.


You can enjoy Janey and Olive having sex in my Lesbiana Licks blog under the title Lovely Ira. Ira is the name of the model I chose to be Janey here. But you will have to imagine the eight livid cane strokes across her lovely bum!