Marnie felt a surge of relief.
"Yes, of course, Miss Robin! I will do as you say—anything—oh thank you, thank you. Mrs. Jones, thank you—"
"Do not thank us yet, Miss Stowe. You do not yet know what the punishment comprises. Mrs. Jones and I have spent a considerable period of time this morning discussing what would be a suitably trying set of requirements. The duration of the punishment will be two weeks."
"Two...weeks?" said Marnie. It seemed impossible that any kind of punishment would last that long. Ten minutes was long for a spanking—what on earth could last two whole weeks?
"That's right. You see, the punishment will not be delivered in one burst. Patience and discipline is what you need to learn. Therefore, there will be several regular components to this punishment that you must accede to every day, sometimes several times a day, with absolute humility and obedience.
"If you do this successfully for two weeks, you will be allowed on a visit outside the academy—not far outside, mind, but outside, nonetheless. If you fail, even once, then the punishment shall continue, but the promise of reward will be withdrawn. Do you understand?"
"I do, Miss Robin."
"Very well. Mrs. Jones, you have my permission to commence the program of punishment immediately."
Mrs. Jones smiled a quiet, triumphant smile. "At once, Miss Robin," she said.
Marnie was silent on the walk back to her bedroom. Once inside, Mrs. Jones brought her straight to the en suite bathroom. She told Marnie to step out of her slippers, then removed Marnie's gown and petticoats, unfastened Marnie's drawers and allowed them to fall to the floor.
"Up on the table—quickly please," Mrs. Jones said.
Marnie obeyed. Mrs. Jones soon had her thin chemise around her waist and her legs open. Marnie desperately wanted to ask what was going to happen, but, concerned that this would be taken as a form of dissent, she withheld her questions.
Mrs. Jones busied herself at the bathroom cabinet and soon returned, arranging the items she needed on a trolley that stood next to the table.
Marnie saw her take a length of white cloth and fold it.
"Lift your hips, Miss Stowe."
Marnie fought her instinct to resist and instead obeyed, allowing Mrs. Jones to slide the cloth in beneath her.
"This is one of the most effective disciplinary tools I know," said Mrs. Jones. "Girls who are quite inured to the tawse and the paddle can change their attitudes very quickly after a couple of days in nappies."
A chill went through Marnie's body. She chose her question carefully.
"Mrs. Jones?"
"Yes, Miss Stowe?" said Mrs. Jones sweetly as she folded the white cloth firmly around Marnie's thighs and against her sex, pinning it expertly in place.
"How many days will I be…" She blushed to even say the words. "Wearing nappies?"
"You will wear them every day for two weeks," she said. "After the cleansing enema you receive each morning, you will be put in a nappy—and then, whenever you are wet, you may ask to be excused from classes or meals or recreation, and I shall change it for you. You must not use the necessary. The nappy will be perfectly secure, and you will wet it in the course of your usual activities. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mrs. Jones," said Marnie miserably.
"Very good. Along with your daily enema and daily spanking, it will be a regular part of your punishment. I believe it will do you a lot of good."
Mrs. Jones helped Marnie up from the table. Marnie's cheeks burned in shame. Once she was dressed, the nappy felt thick and bulky beneath her gown, and she was certain everyone would be able to see it. She had to quell the panic rising in her. How would she ever use a nappy? It was too humiliating—it was impossible!
Mrs. Jones read the expression on Marnie's face. "Something to say, Miss Stowe?"
Marnie swallowed and wrung her hands. "No, Mrs. Jones."
"Good. Then let's get you back to class. Only there's one thing I would like you to do first."
She walked into the bedroom and picked up a pitcher and a glass that had been placed on top of the chest of drawers. She filled the glass with fresh milk from the pitcher.
"Here," she said. "Drink this. Drink all of it please. And don't dally."
She handed Marnie the glass. Marnie eyed it doubtfully. But she took it from Mrs. Jones' hand, and trying not to think too much about it, drank the whole creamy glass of liquid down, feeling its coolness pooling in her stomach.
She handed her chaperone the empty glass.
"Very good, Miss Stowe. Now come on—we don't want you to miss any more of your lessons."
The lesson that Marnie returned to was Etiquette. The girls were each standing next to their desks, practicing their curtseys.
"Every woman thinks she knows how to curtsey," Mrs. Eldridge was saying.
Mrs. Eldridge was a spindly, sombre woman with ashy brown hair. Her dress was pale blue and immaculate. Nothing escaped her notice.
"But there is more to it than meets the eye," she continued as Marnie walked as inconspicuously as she could towards her seat.
"A truly well-educated girl will curtsey deeply and gracefully but not take too long to do so. She will convey humility but, also, her charm and finesse..."
What followed was a series of exercises. Mrs. Eldridge was a perfectionist and spoke at length about how to hold a gown, the position of feet and hips, the angle at which a young lady's knee should bend. Her ability to drone on about such minutiae was legendary.
After what seemed an interminable amount of instruction and practice, Mrs. Eldridge was still not satisfied.
"Privettes!" she cried. "We practice these skills so frequently—how could you not be experts yet? Perhaps we need a model to come to the front and demonstrate. Miss Stowe? Yes, how about you? Please step forward at once."
Marnie gritted her teeth. As the class had progressed, the pressure had been steadily, relentlessly growing in her bladder. Now, it seemed that any careless movement would force her to lose control. She knew, intellectually, that she would be required to use the nappies that Mrs. Jones had ordered her to wear. But still, her mind fought the idea that she should release her bladder in front of her fellow classmates and teachers and then ask to be excused so that the whole humiliating ordeal could start afresh!
But Marnie also knew that it was crucial to obey every instruction given to her by her teachers. She could not beg to be excused or show any hesitation. Instead, she rose gingerly from her seat and walked carefully to the front of the room, hoping that none of her fellow Privettes could see the nappy's bulk beneath her gown.
"Stand here, Miss Stowe. That's right. And stop slouching like that—stand up straight! That's right, good girl. Now, why don't you show us all how you would do a curtsey?"
"Yes, Mrs. Eldridge," Marnie said.
She tried to remember everything she had been taught but was so distracted by the urge she felt to release her bladder that she struggled to remember anything—was it left foot behind right foot or right behind left?
"Come now, Miss Stowe. We're waiting."
A spasm went through Marnie. She seized her skirt and bobbed down awkwardly, feeling the rough cloth of the nappy move with her.
Mrs. Eldridge delivered a quick swat to Marnie's bottom with her ruler, causing Marnie to suck in her breath, her bladder quivering.
"Oh, Miss Stowe—have you learned nothing in my class?" cried Mrs. Eldridge. "Right foot behind left, keep your back straight, and for heaven's sakes, keep your arms at your sides, not flapping about everywhere! Truly, a curtsey done well is a most elegant thing, but one done poorly—well, one would be better off not doing one at all!"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Eldridge," said Marnie, her bladder feeling as though it might burst.
"Do it again, Miss Stowe—and you had better show us correctly this time. Unless you would like me to pull down your drawers and spank you in front of the whole class!"
Marnie shuddered at the thought of everyone in t
he room seeing her nappy. She flushed deeply from her throat to the tips of her ears.
Mrs. Eldridge's threat helped to sharpen Marnie's thinking. She recalled in crystalline detail everything Mrs. Eldridge had just said. Keeping her arms neatly by her sides and her back straight, she made a modest dip, slipping her right foot behind her left.
But at the lowest point of her curtsey, she simply could not hold on any longer. She felt a short, hot, wet spurt and then a longer rush. There was then a spreading warmth as the nappy filled, which continued as she completed her curtsey and as Mrs. Eldridge said, "There—you see, Miss Stowe! Excellently done! It looks like it won't be necessary to spank you after all. Not this time, anyway. Please resume your seat."
Marnie knew that she could not rejoin her classmates—that she would have to ask to be excused. Her face flaming with humiliation, she said, as quietly as she could, "Mrs. Eldridge, may I be excused please? I must—I must—"
"Oh—do you need your nappy changed, dear? I was forewarned that this might be the case. Let me call for your chaperone."
She picked up a bell on her desk and rang it. An attendant appeared at the door.
"Please fetch Mrs. Jones at once. Tell her Miss Stowe has a full nappy and needs to be changed immediately."
Marnie was in such an acute state of humiliation that she felt tears pricking her eyes. No, she thought. Marnie Stowe does not cry. She repeated the words to herself like a chant, deliberately not meeting the gaze of any other girl in the classroom.
Marnie Stowe does not cry.
Marnie Stowe does not cry.
Marnie Stowe does not cry.
By the time Mrs. Jones appeared at the door, a satisfied smile on her face, Marnie was glad to see her. She bowed her head and followed her out of the room, allowing herself to be led to the bedroom where the wet nappy was removed. Mrs. Jones bathed her sex with a flannel, dried her and applied lotion before putting her charge in a fresh nappy.
The day continued, with Marnie having to request to be changed twice more. By the time recreation hour rolled around, everyone was gossiping about Marnie's punishment and wondering how she had earned it. But Georgiana was the only girl Marnie trusted and the only girl she told.
"Oh dear," said Georgiana, looking genuinely perturbed. "How dreadful for you! What—I mean, how?"
"I'm sure you can guess," Marnie said miserably.
"You lost your temper?"
"Spectacularly."
"Dear me," Georgiana said. "At least the day is nearly done."
"This is day one of fourteen," said Marnie.
"Fourteen!" cried Georgiana. "Oh, that is terrible. You poor thing. What on earth happened at that party?"
Marnie told the story, up to and including the unfortunate incident with the Talbot family portrait. All the while, Georgiana listened, gasping intermittently at Elspeth and Lippy's behaviour and, also, at Marnie's actions.
"Did Lippy really play for an hour?"
"At least an hour. I was tearing my hair out."
"And your sister allowed this to continue? She didn't stop her?"
"Stop her—ha! She encouraged it."
"Well, I don't like to speak ill of other people's families but that sounds—it sounds very trying indeed!"
"So you see why I lost my temper."
"I see why you were annoyed, Marnie, but—" Georgie looked at her earnestly. "You must learn a little patience. You cannot simply erupt into utter madness whenever something displeasing occurs. It only ends in trouble. Everyone tolerates things that are irritating or dull or mean. Otherwise, we would surely all murder one another."
Marnie sighed deeply. "I suppose it just comes easier to you, Georgie," she said.
Georgie's face fell. "I suppose I've had plenty of practice," she said.
Marnie instantly felt a pang of guilt. Georgiana had had a dreadful disappointment from a handsome, somewhat older general to whom she had completely given her heart. Determined he would return, she was stoically deflecting all other advances. Though she had teased Georgiana for her attachment, thinking it silly, she knew how deeply Georgie was wounded. And in spite of herself, she had come to care about Georgiana, even though the girl was Marnie's opposite in every way—plump, short, domestic, sweet natured and even-tempered.
"Have you any news—you know, of your general?" Marnie asked, putting aside her own misery for a moment.
"Nothing yet. But every day is a new day," Georgie said, smiling bravely. "And any day might bring good news."
"I wish I had that attitude," Marnie said.
"You could, if you chose to," Georgie said.
"That seems unlikely."
"That's because you can only think about the present moment. If you're not happy right now, Marnie, you're not happy at all. I'm trying to be happy in the hope of my future happiness. Do you see?"
"I suppose," Marnie said. But in truth, she found the proposal preposterous.
That night, Marnie, splayed over the velvet-padded punishment horse in her room, endured the promised hard spanking from Mrs. Jones. She was put to bed with a trainer in her mouth, one inserted firmly into her pucker, and she wore yet another fresh nappy. As ever, her wrists were cuffed to the bed.
All of these humiliations infuriated Marnie. As Mrs. Jones was preparing her for bed, she almost lost her temper on several occasions. When the lamp was finally blown out and the room settled into darkness, Marnie was wide awake. She had barely made it through one day of this rigorous schedule of humiliating punishment. How could she possibly withstand it for two weeks?
Two weeks of enemas every morning, being swaddled in nappies all day, then being spanked every evening before bed. Marnie's bottom was hot and sore from her chaperone's ministrations.
Marnie shuffled in the bed to make herself more comfortable. Other girls who had been at the academy for a decent amount of time had earned the right not to be cuffed to their beds, a practice which prevented them from removing training devices or slipping their hands between their legs to relieve the cravings which their training—and often their punishment—induced. But this was a privilege Marnie had never earned.
She took a long, deep breath, running her tongue beneath the trainer lodged in her mouth. She would need something to endure these weeks. Something to hold onto which would make the pain, the discomfort, the humiliation and the dread she felt worthwhile. What had Georgiana said—'the hope of future happiness'? Marnie rolled her eyes in the darkness. It was just like Georgie to be so wholesome and cheerful when her circumstances were, if anything, more pitiful than Marnie's own.
Still, it was the only suggestion she had. She tried to think about what would allow her to patiently wait out her humiliations.
She tried to picture the visit with Major Chance. He had promised in the letter that she would meet his horse. She felt a rush of pleasure at the thought. She would be able, finally, to spend an afternoon outside, in the fresh air—perhaps even riding once again. When she really concentrated, she could almost smell the grass and the leather and hear the steady beat of hooves, feel her lungs filling and her muscles stretching...
Marnie stretched in her bed and was reminded once more of the trainer stretching her bottom hole and the nappy pinned securely in place. A fresh wave of anger surged inside her. It was no good. The thought of 'future happiness' was never strong enough to quash the anger she felt at her present misfortune. If only she hadn't been forced to attend her sister's blasted party! Elspeth and Lippy were the ones to blame for this awfulness! Why didn't anyone punish them?
Marnie took a deep breath and tried again.
This time, she didn't only imagine the visit. She thought of what Georgie really meant by 'future happiness'. She allowed her imagination to go further—to imagine a time when she would be free of Miss Robin's, free of Mrs. Jones and her attentions, free of her sisters and their stupidity. She would have a home of her own—and in his letter, hadn't the major shown that he would allow her some measure of freedom? Hadn't
he demonstrated that he knew she needed the outdoors, needed to run and ride and feel the sun on her back and the wind in her hair?
When she dared to imagine a happy future with him—living without the rigours of the academy, having the freedom of deciding how to spend her days, having the company of a man who seemed to understand her, having Scarlett with her once again—two weeks did not seem like such a sacrifice, after all. Her heartbeat slowed. Her anger softened.
Oh, Georgie, she thought, drifting off to sleep, perhaps you were right after all!
Chapter 11
The day that Marnie's punishment came to an end was a Saturday. Mrs. Jones once again briskly opened the curtains and turned down the bedclothes. She placed a hand between Marnie's legs to ensure that the nappy had been used. Finding it wet, she began to unshackle her charge from the bed.
"Once again, very good, Miss Stowe," said Mrs. Jones. There was still a note of surprise in her voice, though Marnie had been an excellent, even a model student, for the past two weeks. She had used her nappies every day without complaint, filling them in class or at mealtimes and asking plainly in front of everyone for Mrs. Jones to change her. She had withstood her morning enema and her evening spanking, not complaining even when Mrs. Jones chose to use a tawse or paddle instead of her hand.
She was taken to the bathroom and given yet another four-quart enema. She had thought the punishment complete and that she would be allowed to pass the morning without one. But she simply gritted her teeth and endured it. She allowed Mrs. Jones to bathe her, dress her and arrange her hair.
"Well, Miss Stowe, your punishment is officially over," Mrs. Jones said, when Marnie's toilette was complete. "And, I must say, well done. We have not been easy on you, and you have behaved admirably. I am—I am rather quite proud," she said.
A Major of Marnie (Miss Robin's Academy Book 3) Page 12
