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Title: The Convent School Early Experiences of a Young Flagellant Author: William Dugdale Release Date: December 1, 2019 [EBook #60825] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONVENT SCHOOL *** Produced by deaurider, David Wilson and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) Transcriber’s Note THIS BOOK IS PORNOGRAPHIC IN NATURE AND CONTAINS EXPLICIT LANGUAGE. THE Convent School, OR EARLY EXPERIENCES OF A YOUNG FLAGELLANT. BY ROSA BELINDA COOTE. london: privately printed. 1898. 1 [Decoration] Salomon said, in accents mild, Spare the rod and spoil the child; Be they man or be they maid, Whip and wallop ’em, Salomon said The dicta of the Wise Man concerning discipline have been the source of inexpressible dolour to children for very many centuries; and it has only been within the last sixty years that ferocity in the treatment of infants (I am speaking of English children, Jean Jacques Rousseau shamed the French out of the practice of beating their offspring, nearly a hundred years ago) has been gradually diminishing. In the eighteenth century the lot of the British juvenile was certainly a cruel one That admirable woman, the mother of the Wesleys, held that a child should be made to desist from crying and to “fear the rod” at the mature age of twelve months; and Miss Maria Semple, writing on education in 1812, tells a story of a lady who was educated in early years by a relative. “On a certain day in every week she received corporal chastisement. If she had committed faults, ‘the punishment was due;’ if she had not, she probably would in the week ensuing. At the distance of more than half- a-century, the memory of this person, who bore a public character of piety and virtue, was spoken of, and justly, with aversion by the person she had thus treated.” Thus Miss Maria Semple.—“G. A. S.,” in the Illustrated London News. 3 4 INTRODUCTORY LETTER OF THE AUTHORESS. My Dear Nellie,— Since writing you my confessions, in that series of letters which you flattered me by calling “most interesting facts, and deliciously voluptuous reading for lovers of the rod,” the following curious narrative has been entrusted to my confidential keeping by a young Countess of my acquaintance; but as there are no secrets between us, and I think it may afford some little pleasure in the perusal, I hasten to copy it out for you, from notes which I made day by day at the bedside of the dear young creature, as she told the particulars to me, at my visits during her long and painful illness, now, I am afraid, close upon a fatal termination; and you may guess how grieved I am to think that, although I now reserve her name as a secret, too solemn to be entrusted, even to you, the stillness of the grave will soon do away with all necessity for such reticence. Should my confessions ever be printed after our time, this tale certainly ought to bear them company, either as prefix or addenda. Believe me, dear Nellie, Your ever affectionate friend, Rosa Belinda Coote. London, 10th January, 1825. 5 6 [Decoration] THE CONVENT SCHOOL, OR EARLY EXPERIENCES OF A YOUNG FLAGELLANT Chapter I The Early Life of Lucille Since, dear Rosie, you are so interested to hear my birching and whipping experiences, I will try to recollect them as well as possible, but hope you will consider my weak state of health, and not press me to tell you too much at once. Perhaps you do not know that almost from my infancy it was arranged that I should marry the Earl of Ellington, who was about twelve years my senior, being a family compact of a purely mercenary character, designed to consolidate some very doubtful title deeds, which now that our union has proved unfruitful, are likely to entail great expense and annoyance to our heirs-at-law. My father, you know, was the Honourable Mr. Warton, and my mother died in giving birth to myself, so that I was brought up under a nurse, and afterwards, when about seven years old, a young lady was engaged as governess to instil my juvenile mind with the rudiments of learning, preparatory to being sent to a finishing school. This lady’s name was Miss Birch, and although my papa had known her father, Dr. Birch, for some years, I now believe that the fascination of her name had great influence with him in making a selection from the numerous, and in many instances more eligible ladies, who applied for the situation. Miss Birch was a dark lady about thirty years of age when she entered our family, very good-looking, rather large pouting mouth, set off with lovely rows of most pearly white teeth, which, when she smiled or said much showed to beautiful effect in contrast to her rather swarthy complexion, dark brown eyes, and thick bushy black arching eyebrows, her figure was well moulded and plump, and being about five feet six, she had quite a commanding presence. I was nearly eight years old before I began to notice the significant looks which occasionally passed between papa and governess, but hints were so often thrown out about the necessity of procuring a good birch rod for the naughty bottom of Lucille, that I was gradually awakened to the discovery of some most mysterious kind of understanding which must subsist between them. My infant brain was much puzzled and alarmed, as I already felt in imagination the tingling smart of the green twigs I so much dreaded. Miss Birch seemed more exacting and severe over my lessons, especially when papa happened to be in the schoolroom, and now I will tell you my first experience of the rod. One day after failing both in spelling and arithmetic she rang the bell, and ordered the 7 8 9 10 servant to request Mr. Warton’s presence in the schoolroom for a few minutes. Papa entered with a very serious look, requesting Miss Birch to inform him of the cause of sending for him. “Mr. Warton,” said my governess, “you know we have had many serious conversations about the necessity for proper correction in case Miss Lucille should continue so inattentive to her studies, to-day she has failed in everything, and I am certain that unless her energies are sharpened up by the stinging smart of the rod she will go from bad to worse; I am so averse to wield the birch myself, and would much prefer that her papa should take in hand the serious whipping she ought to have.” Papa.—“Lucille, you hear what Miss Birch says, (I noticed him cast most excited and amorous looks towards the governess as he spoke), she has been most forbearing with you, and interceded with me many times to save your bottom, and even now cannot bring herself to lift her own hand to make you smart a little; it must indeed be a serious fault to induce her to ask me to use the rod, but, ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child,’ has always been a maxim with me; lay her across your lap, Miss Birch, and pull up her clothes, whilst I get the rod out of the table drawer.” Miss Birch, with heaving bosom, and quite a deep blush upon her face.—“I feel as ashamed at baring her naughty posteriors as if I was going to suffer the degradation and humiliation myself, but come, Lucille dear, you must bear it, and I hope you will be a better and more diligent girl in future.” Then catching me by the wrist, as I stood by her side covered with confusion, she tried to lay me across her knees, but I struggled and screamed, “No! No!! No!!! I won’t be whipped! Oh! Oh!! dear papa, do forgive me this time!” my face quite crimson and streaming with tears. Papa, having got out the rod, a fine switch of long thin birch twigs, tied up with velvet and silk ribbons at the handle,—“Come! Come!! Lucille, this resistance will only make it worse for you.” As he seized and threw me on the governess’s lap, Miss Birch securing my head well under her left arm, speedily pulled up dress and skirts, till my fat little bottom was exposed in a tight fitting pair of drawers, my legs being left to kick about, although I was quite firmly secured, and to all intents quite helpless, and my toes could scarcely touch the ground. 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 11 12 13 14 15 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. “There, there, that will do,” said Papa, in a very excited tone. “I’ve drawn the blood for her. Now, Miss Dunce, kneel and kiss the rod, and ask your kind governess to forgive you.” I slipped down on my knees, and hiding my face in my hands in her lap, promised Miss Birch “if she would forgive me now, to be a better girl in future.” “That will do. I don’t want to be too hard upon Lucille this time. We will leave her to think over her disgrace and shame, and let her beware of the birch again,” said Papa, taking Miss Birch’s hand, to lead her from the room. “This has been a most agitating scene for your governess, who must repose in her private room for a while to recover herself.” The schoolroom door, which opened directly into her private room, was closed upon me, and the key turned in the lock, but all my hurts and bruises were insufficient to distract my attention from the peculiarly warm and excited glances which passed from papa towards my governess, whose face was suffused with blushes, and her eyes turned down, as if afraid to meet his ardent looks as they passed from the room. My curiosity was excited so much, that I listened at the keyhole. Papa was evidently remaining in the governess’s room. I could hear a rustling of her dress, as if some little struggle was taking place; a sound of smothered kisses, and soft expostulatory ejaculations, such as, “I dare not! Oh! No! No!! Not now! Pray leave me! Oh! Oh!!” Then an almost perfect quiet, except for a slight rustling sound, and, now and then, broken sighs with heavy breathing. At last all was quiet, and having now been left more than half-an-hour to myself in the schoolroom, I ventured to tap at the door and beg Miss Birch to let me into her room, as I would never, never, offend again. After a very slight delay, the door was unlocked, and my governess received me with expressions of great tenderness, kissed her poor Lucille, and hoped my poor bottom was not too sore. Her eyes were melting with what I should now call a soft voluptuous languor, and scintillated with extraordinary brilliancy, all of which set my young ideas in a flutter of wonderment, as to the extraordinary cause of her prolonged emotion. Things went on pretty smoothly for some time, but I found it quite impossible to avoid coming under the rod every now and then, the chastisement getting more severe on every fresh occasion. Papa always had to handle the twigs, and when I began to get older, Miss Birch would tie me up and leave the room, as she pretended to be quite unable to bear the scene. Still papa would always go into her sanctum at the conclusion of my whipping, to talk the matter over with my governess. I will tell you of a fearful birching, the last I had before being sent to the Convent School; it does not matter what the fault was, but it must have been something very serious. Papa and Miss Birch both helped to tie me up on a four poster bed in my own room. I was stripped of every thing but my skirts and drawers, which were all secured and arranged so as to expose my back parts in the best possible manner for whipping. My hands were tied to the bed post high above my head, and making me kneel on the bed, one leg was secured at the knee to the same post, my other leg being left free to kick about. 15 16 17 18 19 Miss Birch vanished, and papa arming himself with a formidable rood, elegantly trimmed as usual, began by lecturing me on my fault. “You impudent girl, I can scarcely believe it of you, Lucille, now you are just upon twelve, but this is the last whipping you will get at my hands, and I promise you it shall be a sound one, and then I’ll pack you off to the convent, with instructions to the sisters to be very strict in looking after you.” “Oh! Oh!! Papa,” I implored, “Have mercy, don’t be so severe, indeed I won’t do it again!” “Hold your tongue, Miss,” he said, impatiently, “you always cry before you are hurt, but you shall remember this whipping as long as you live;” giving me a slashing cut round my loins, then another, and another on each cheek of my buttocks, “how do you like it, you bad girl! will you turn over a new leaf when you leave home? Will you? Will your? Will you? Will you?” Each question being accompanied by a terrific smarter; the blows seemed to cut like a red hot knife, and my boiling blood tingled from the tips of my fingers to the ends of my toes. I could feel great burning bursting weals rising on my skin at every cut; I screamed and plunged till the bed-post creaked with the strain, and my wrists and knee were quite pained by the tight ligatures by which they were secured. “Let this be a solemn warning to you, Miss Lucille,” he continued, “but I’m afraid all my efforts for your reformation are quite thrown away upon such a worthless baggage,” cutting away still more furiously, and as I turned my head to scream and implore for mercy, I could see how excited he was over the business with flushed face and sparkling eyes; he was a fine handsome man of about forty-five, and gave me the idea of looking as if in the midst of a tremendous battle. Anything but a bloodless battle for me; my bottom was soon dripping with the ruby drops of my young blood, the sight of which seemed only to exasperate him still more. “Ah! You little wretch. Scream away!” he exclaimed. “It’s a beautiful sight to see you writhing and plunging under every scathing cut. May it do you good, and draw the imprudence out of your tail. Will you? Will you, try and behave better, or shall I send you off to the convent at once, in their holiday time? There! There!! There!!!” He finished with three tremendous cuts, without waiting for my reply, and sank back, gasping for breath, into an easy chair. It was quite a minute or two before my screams and moans of agony subsided. Then Miss Birch coming in, released my hands and leg, an ordering me to rest on the bed for a while, retired with my father locking the door behind them. The smarting sensation now turned to a delicious voluptuous warmth, as I lay under the bed clothes. My right hand was passed all over the glowing surface of my buttocks, and seemed at last, quite unwittingly to settle itself on my hairless little cunny. I turned on my belly with my hand still under me, and wriggling myself about, as I lay thinking over all the cuts I had received, gradually found a most pleasing sensation from the rubbing of my hand and the two forefingers mechanically worked into the slit, squeezing my legs together, I rubbed on to increase the pleasurable emotions which I felt driving me to strive and obtain, I knew not what. The frenzy now threw me into such a state of excitement that my fingers were plunged as far as possible up my virgin cunny, as I gasped, writhed, and tossed my bottom up and down. The crisis came at last, and my furious efforts were rewarded by a most heavenly emission; my soul seemed to flow from me at the moment, and left me in a delightful state of voluptuous lethargy, which lasted for some minutes, and when at length I regained my serenity, it was to find my fingers, cunny, and thighs all sticky from the thick spermy emission of my first maiden spend. There was also a slight stain of blood, for I had actually ravished myself in my furious excitement. I got up and sponged myself, then lay down to reflect on the curious and delicious emotions I had procured for myself, and determining to soon have a repetition of my 20 21 22 23 secrets joys, fell asleep to dream of being in the arms of a most lovely boy about my own age, who seemed to impart to my ravished senses another taste of what I had already felt. Awaking in a struggle to retain my love-bird, I found myself bedewed by another emission, but at last I slept with tranquility, and never shall I forget my first taste of joy that day. 24 [Decoration] Chapter II. The Convent School My father’s extreme severity made me rather glad when in about a week’s time Miss Birch began to make preparations for my departure to Belgium, and in less than three weeks I found myself installed as a pupil in the seminary of the Ursuline nuns at Brussels. The Lady Superior struck me from the very first as being a frightfully severe woman; the morning after my arrival she sent for me to hear her read my father’s instructions, and remarked that he had given her carte blanche as to punishment, and that in their school discipline was strictly enforced. “Remember, young lady,” said she, in dismissing me from her presence, “we never overlook a fault, and that my word is law here.” My face flushed with indignation, and tears filled my eyes as I left the apartment, fully assured in my own mind that I must soon experience a taste of their discipline, nor had I long to wait, for two days after, having confidentially expressed my disgust to another pupil, with respect to the coarse fare set before us at meals, I soon found I had been talking to a tell-tale spy, who carried everything to the Superior. An elderly nun quietly told me she had been sent to conduct me to the private room of the Lady Superior. My time was come, and I followed my chaperone with trembling anxiety. Our Superior was a stern looking woman of about forty-five, with dark piercing eyes and Roman nose, thin compressed lips considerably adding to the severity of her expression. “Mdlle. Lucille,” said the superior, “I thought the caution I gave you on your arrival, would at least have saved you from trouble for some time, and spared me the pain of inflicting personal correction on you so soon after your entry into our seminary, but I am afraid your papa must have had serious cause for wishing me to be severe with you; now what have you been saying to your fellow pupil the Mdlle. Olive; did you remark, ‘that the food was not fit for a dog, much less schoolgirls’?” I looked down in confusion, “Ah, I see,” she continued, “you cannot deny it; well Lucille, I hope soon to convince you that our bill of fare is both wholesome and proper for the pupils, I shall give you one dozen cuts with the rod, and then let you off if you promise not to offend in the same way again.” The nun who was called Serena, now placed a long stool in the middle of the apartment, and made me lie on it full length face downwards, then I felt her cold busy hands as they turned up my clothes, and opened my drawers behind, till my bottom was left naked to the attack of the Lady Superior. “Do you, Mdlle. Lucille,” she asked sternly, “consider that our fare of bread and porridge three times a day, and meat or soup twice a week, added for dinner is only fit for a dog? Ah! Ha!” she went on, cutting me slowly and severely at every few words, “This will give you a better appetite; how do you like birch sauce, Miss Dainty Mouth?” I screamed with the pain, and plunged about so that Sister Serena had to hold me down with all her weight upon my shoulders. “Forgive me, oh, forgive me this time, I won’t speak to Olive again!” I gasped out as the heavy woman almost stopped my breath, but at last it was over, and after kissing the rod and making me look at the blood-stained weals on my bottom, they sent me away with a caution how I spoke about that or anything else I might see done in the convent. 25 26 27 28 29 I longed to have my revenge on the deceitful Olive, but knew not where to turn for a confidant, they all perhaps would be equally treacherous. I stuck to my lessons and avoided punishment as much as possible, being assured that the longer I brooded on my revenge the more complete it would be in the end, at the same time I thoroughly studied every part of the building to which I was allowed access, in the hope I might some day find it very useful if I wanted to effect my escape. The nuns I believe slept in dormitories, where there were a dozen or more together, but every pupil had a very small room to herself, mine was in a long corridor, and Olive’s three or four doors from mine, there were neither locks or bolts to any door, as the Lady Superior and elder sisters were supposed to take frequent peeps at us in our sleep; I had at last matured my plan, and having everything in readiness, one dark night when there was not even a glimpse of moonlight, I patiently watched till some of the principals had paid the accustomed visit, and heard the cracked voice of an old nun say, “fast asleep,” as I feigned to be in a deep slumber. Soon their footsteps died away in the corridor, and after waiting some time, till I felt sure every pupil must be again asleep, if the going round should have awakened them, I crept out of bed, and providing myself with some pins and a strong piece of cord, was soon at the bedside of the treacherous girl I wanted to serve out; my first act was to quietly pass my cord around her, outside the small bed, so that I could suddenly draw it tight and secure her a helpless victim in my power then suddenly stuffing the bedclothes into her mouth before she could scream out, ordered her in a rough whisper to keep quiet or I would kill her; it was too dark to see her terrified face, but she shuddered all over, and seemed as if her very blood was chilled, so cold did she seem to my touch. Taking advantage of her fright, hands and feet were instantly tied so that she was spread out in a helpless fashion; I made her own handkerchief, which I happened to get hold of, into a gag, and at the same time could feel the drops of cold sweat upon her temples. Now I turned up the bedclothes or pushed them off, as I was tying the cord, till she was quite naked from the bosom downwards. My hands roved over the soft, firm, naked flesh of her belly, then to the mount of love, which I found just beginning to be fledged with silky down. My fingers sought the crack below, and I could not help amusing myself by frigging her with all my might, the two first fingers of my right hand ruthlessly pushing into her cunny, and I knew caused her intense pain; from the slight groans which the gag could not entirely suppress. What pleasure it was to me to torture her by my roughness, and outrage her every sense of modesty, although I was too ignorant at the time to know that my fingers were actually taking the poor girl’s virginity; a kind of fury possessed me, and I actually bit the lips of her cunny, and munched off as much of the silky down as I could bite away; the pain must have been intense, and her writhing, shuddering agony was so much bliss to me. At last to finish her off I got a piece of the cord, and passing it right along her crack, tied it round her thighs and waist as tightly and painfully as possible, and then for ornament stuck a lot of pins in the plumb cheeks of her bottom and left them there. My revenge was complete, so wiping my fingers on the bedclothes, for fear of any blood-stains, &c., I left my victim just as she was, to be tormented by her horrible pains and fears till some one might find it out, and release her in the morning. This outrage was never discovered, my victim was found insensible next morning, and remained in a delirious state for three or four weeks before she recovered consciousness, and then the agony and terror she had endured on that awful night had so turned her brain that she believed it was the devil who had so grossly ill-used her, but I heard that one of the father confessors was strongly suspected of having committed the atrocity. The Superior, with whom Olive had been a favourite, now vented her spite in every direction amongst the young lady pupils of the seminary, and I for one soon fell under 30 31 32 33 her displeasure, and was ordered to be tied up to their whipping post; it was only for slightly oversleeping myself, and not dressing quickly when the bell rang for us to get up at 6 a.m. I was suspended by my wrists being tied high up the post as I stood upon a small footstool, then it was suddenly kicked away, the jerk of the sudden strain on my wrists almost making the straps cut into the flesh. My feet were dangling some inches from the ground, “Oh! Oh! Ah—r—r—r—re!” I screamed, “How cruel! Oh! Papa! Papa! If you only knew how they are treating me in this awful place!” Lady Superior (who seemed delighted at the sight of my pain),—“Hold your foolish noise, Mdlle. Lucille, wait till you have something to scream about, girl.” Then the old Serena, who it seemed was always in attendance at punishment time, pinned up my skirts and opened my drawers behind, and the Superior went on, “This rod shall make all the sluggards turn out quicker in the morning; what do you think, Mademoiselle, of making us all wait prayers for ten minutes? will you wake—wake —wake up sharper in future?” She gave me three smarting cuts at each word, and my suspended position added so much to the intensity of my pain, that I screamed, kicked, and plunged about as I swung by my wrists from the post. “Sister Serena,” exclaimed the Superior, “keep the girl steady or I cannot plant my cuts as effectually as I ought to do upon her naughty impudent bottom, she shan’t sleep for a week if I can only make it sore enough!” Serena now held me to the post with one hand, to prevent my swaying about, whilst the rod rained a succession of withering, scorching cuts on my buttocks, and just underneath the parting of the cheeks of my bottom. My screams were heartrending, but they only seemed to enjoy it more and the Superior never ended her objurgations till the rod was worn out. Things now went on till I was nearly fourteen, we never had a holiday, and only short letters came to me from home, in which my father constantly expressed his hopes of my improvement, and seemed quite oblivious to all I had written from time to time about my severe treatment, and begging him to remove me to some other school. I afterwards found out that my home letters were regularly suppressed, and others more suitable were written and sent to papa, in my name; what wretch that Superior now appears in my eyes, she not only delighted in whipping us nearly to death, but forget letters to our parents so as to keep her pupils, and make everything appear couleur de rose. Perhaps, dear Rosa, you have heard that I managed to escape from that dreadful convent, but previous to that they nearly killed me. I was getting quite a big girl, my pussey already sported its silken down on the Mons Veneris, which we all consider such an ornament to our secret charms. The Superior had lately taken much notice of me, and introduced me to a clique of her favourites, three or four pretty girls about my own age, who were often indulged with little treats in her private room; there, we girls were encouraged and instructed in all kinds of lascivious ideas; we looked at each other’s cunnies, tickled and kissed each other in every possible way, the Superior encouraging us, and suggesting a variety of attitudes for us to try. She had a huge godemiche, about nine inches long, and very thick, which she would fit upon one of the girls, and then submit herself to be fucked as hard as possible, whilst the other girls had to turn up the girl’s skirts, and smack her bottom hard and fast, with the palms of their hands, to make the young gentleman (as the Superior called her partner) work fast and vigorously. Then she would have us all strip naked, whilst we had in turn to kiss and suck her cunt, when it was all slimy with her spendings. I did not mind the slapping, or allowing any one to kiss and tongue-fuck my cunny, but the Superior’s was so hairy, and had such meaty looking lips, and a huge clitoris, (which I now know is induced by long-continued self-abuse), and it smelt so fishy, that I absolutely declined the honour of gamahuching her, and nothing could induce me to do so. 34 35 36 37 38 This so enraged her that she flew at me like a tigress. I was knocked down, and beaten with a thick stick, till my flesh was bruised all over, and then picked up, almost fainting, and hurried off to my own little room. Perhaps nothing further would have happened, but in my innocence, I supposed my letters were sent home just as I sealed them up, so I wrote to Miss Birch a full account of what I had been seduced into, and the dreadful beating I had received, for not liking the cunt of the Lady Superior. The very next day after I thought the letter was gone, the old nun, Serena, fetched me into a dull gloomy room, which I had never been in before, but at once rightly judged to be a punishment chamber, when I saw a high whipping post, made of a square beam, set upright in the floor, with two rings near the top on each side, by which to tie up the victim; a birch rod was hanging on the wall, and two scourges with long things lay upon a seat at one end, but I had no time for further observation, as the Superior seemed to follow us into the room almost immediately. “Now, Mdlle. Lucille,” she exclaimed, grinding her teeth in rage, “you shall rue the insult you put upon me the other day, before my special favourites, of which I had minded to make you one, so that when you left the seminary you might look back with pleasure to the loving amusements I had first introduced you to; perhaps I should have overlooked it all, but see I have your letter. Ha! Ha!! you little fool to think that would ever go out of the convent!” Sister Serena had by this time put me on a stool, and was fastening my wrists one on each side of the post, and presently the stool was removed, and I found myself just touching the floor with the tips of my toes. “What a beautiful position, how she will twist about and scream when she feels the scourge, make haste to bare her bottom, as I am burning to pay her out. Ha! Ha!! Mdlle. Lucille, I fancy you wouldn’t mind kissing my cunt now if I promised to let you off,” said the Superior spitefully. My courage and natural obstinacy came to my assistance at the moment, I was so indignant, and the idea was so repulsive to me that I resolved rather to die than do that for her; I was frightened and yet flushed with shame and indignation at my treatment, besides something seemed to advise me to irritate my tormentor to do her worst, and get it over quickly. “No! No!! No, never!!! you may kill me, and then I should be out of my misery!” I exclaimed. She scowled with ferocity, but said with all the calmness she could command, “make haste, Serena, up with her clothes, and open the drawers well, and keep her as steady as possible.” Then taking up the instrument of punishment I could see it consisted of five or six long thongs of whipcord, plaited and knotted at the ends, fixed on a very elastic handle. It was poised in her hand for a moment, and then brought down with stinging force on my exposed buttocks, then again, and again, and again, in quick succession; each cut seemed to sear the flesh as if done by a red hot iron, my piercing screams filled the whole place, and the Superior, her eyes sparkling with ferocious joy, jeered me about how I liked the scourge. “How lovely you look, Mdlle. Lucille, as you plunge and scream, and I know the intense agony of every cut; would you rather die now, my little dear? Well, I’ve a good mind to kill you, outright, only I want to keep you as long as that dear, kind papa of yours is willing to pay! How he must have loved his Lucille, to place her with me; I’m so kind, so very kind, you know, my dear girl! What do you think of my kindness, you little love?” Her cuts were awful, and I swayed and plunged so that it was impossible for Serena to keep my body steady, so she seized the other scourge, and tried her best to second the Superior in her efforts to cut me up more and more. At last they fairly panted for breath, as I was left dangling, sobbing and moaning, with 39 40 41 42 my clothes torn, my drawers in shreds, and streaming with blood all down my thighs and legs. Fearing I might faint, they poured a little strong cordial down my parched throat, sponged my face with cold water, and put some strong snuff up my nose, which almost drove me into convulsions, so very violent was the fit of sneezing produced. They seemed carried away with delight at the sight of my sufferings, and sprinkled a quantity of the snuff over the cuts on my bottom, just to dry up the blood, as they said with a laugh. Next all my clothes were cut or torn off, till I had nothing on but slippers, stockings, and the remains of my drawers. “Now we’ll finish off the obstinate, impudent little beast, I wish I dare kill her,” said the Superior, grinding her teeth, “only I should lose too much, she is worth more alive than dead.” A couple of lady’s riding whips were now produced, and the two women attacked me afresh; I was cut all over my body, each cut seemed as if done with a red hot knife, the blood flowed down my back in streams, and yet their rage seemed to increase at the sight of my sufferings. My screams were awful, but only so much music to their ears. They jeered and derided my cries for “God to have mercy on me, &c.,” said “my time was come to die, but they would make me last as long as possible, and draw out my agony to the very last gasp.” This must all have passed in a very short time, but was an age of intense suffering to me, and the finale was such a display of ferocity that I sank under it, and thus robbed them of the pleasure of prolonging my torture. The Superior seized me by the hair, and drawing my head back, lashed her whip across my face and bosom, drawing more blood at every cut, whilst old Serena, not to be outdone, took my right leg under her arm, cut me dreadfully inside my thighs, along the crack of my pussey, and made the tip of her whip reach the Mons Veneris. This was the last I could recollect, but when I came to myself I was in my own bed, wrapped up in cloths soaked in water. No bones were broken, and my health soon recovered sufficiently to enable me to effect my escape, and avoid their further malice. 43 44