Free Ruled by the Rod by Sara Rawlings

days,
was enough in itself to generate those expressions of the fear my
body was filled with.
    Marion was
first to be called. She stepped forward to stand in front of the
desk, and awaited the usual catechism. No, she had nothing to
confess that our father had not already been made cognisant of.
    'Do you submit
yourself to your corrections, so as to receive their benefit to the
full, making no attempt to mitigate their effects, before or
after?' enquired the doctor, watching her closely.
    'I do refuse
any care that my sisters offer, if I feel that it is purely for the
purpose of easing the helpful throbbing of my welts, but I have
accepted certain creams that promote healing, even though they are
also emollient and soothing. I feel that it is incumbent on me to
maintain a healthy body, both to be ready for service and to avoid
being a burden on others.' She appeared to hesitate at this point,
and the doctor pressed her further.
    'Yes, yes,
girl. What is it?' he demanded.
    'There is one
other thing. After correction, my mind is usually in such a turmoil
that I cannot sleep...'
    'And for that
you do what?'
    She hung her
head as far as her collar would allow.
    'I caress that
little bud that lies between my legs, until the tension bursts and
I can sleep,' she said.
    The doctor
cast a look full of meaning at his fellow judges, but merely said
that he had no more questions at that time. Papa and the judge
exchanged significant looks, and the judge addressed Marion in his
turn.
    'Do you
release your tensions in this fashion at other times, besides when
you have been wrought by your correction?'
    Again our
elder sister hesitated, before replying in the affirmative.
    'And how often
do you perform this action, would you say?'
    Another pause,
then, 'Perhaps once or twice a week, sir,' was her reply.
    The judge made
a 'tsk, tsk' sound with his tongue, and said something I did not
catch, to papa, who made an annotation in the leather-bound book,
in which he kept our disciplinary record.
    Marion was
dismissed, and it was my turn to be called before the tribunal,
they seemingly having taken a prior decision to call Charlotte
last. Again I was asked if I had anything to add to my tally. I
racked my brains, searching desperately to see that nothing was
unconfessed, for the searing bite of that cane loomed nearer in my
mind, and I would have spared myself any cut I could, coward that I
was. But I could think of nothing, then, just as I was about to
declare a clean slate, it came to me.
    'If you
please, sir,' I said, 'I too have been guilty of mitigating my
corrections, by frotting my female bud so that I might sleep the
quicker, once the tension had snapped within.'
    The doctor
pounced at once. 'Do you, too, resort to this frictioning at other
times, and if so, how often?'
    Much
mortified, I kept my eyes fixed firmly on a small ink spot on the
carpet, in front of papa's desk, while I replied.
    'Sometimes
once or twice in a week,' I mumbled.
    Again a
whispered consultation, and another entry in papa's register. The
whole proceeding had done nothing to quiet my apprehension, and I
could feel my belly churning, while the points of my nipples
hardened against the lining of my corset top. When I was dismissed
I stepped back to my place, and became aware that I had been
sweating so much my gown was sticking to my shoulders, and I could
feel the perspiration trickling down my armpits.
    Now it was the
turn of Charlotte. She was put to the same interrogation, and made
similar replies. I had expected nothing less, since I knew that we
all caressed our little buttons to ease ourselves, and had done
since we first became women, and before. Most girls learnt the
trick quite early, and get much comfort from it when troubled.
    After her
confessions had been duly noted between the covers of papa's
leather-clad volume, they then turned to other topics.
    The business
outstanding from the last sitting of the court was the matter of
Charlotte's poor control of her