The True Confessions of Jane Eyre

Chapter One-3

I could not help wondering exactly what act Charlotte was guilty of. She did not look like a girl given to wantonness. I tried to imagine what she might have done with this boy; touched him, perhaps? Allowed him to put his hand up her skirt? Or even worse? At that time I had such a limited idea of what things boys and girls could do together.

The girl’s hands were tightly held by Matron and her assistant. The headmaster tapped the cane lightly against her naked bottom, then his arm rose and descended with full force. There was a crack as the cane struck, followed immediately by a terrible cry from the poor victim, like some wounded animal. The headmaster’s arm rose again. And then again. I could see that red welts had been raised already upon the taut white skin of the girl’s behind. She was screaming and desperately trying to wriggle free, but was held fast over the table as the headmaster went about his cruel work. I glanced sideways at my companions. Some could scarcely bear to look, while others gazed on with a fascinated expression. I found that I was trembling. I imagined what the pain must be like; I felt my own bottom tingling as it were in sympathy.

The beating went on and on. I did not count the number of strokes, but there must have been a score. The poor girl’s bottom was criss-crossed with livid red marks, some already starting to turn purple. She would be badly bruised. At last the headmaster let his arm fall to his side, turned and strode out of the hall. The poor girl, weeping hysterically, was helped down from the platform by the two women who had held her, her skirt mercifully falling down to her ankles at last to preserve her modesty.

My heart was beating fast; I felt giddy. At the time I did not understand my response. Only later did I begin to grasp the manner in which the scene had affected me. After this it was time for bed. Lying in my narrow little bed in the dormitory with the other girls, I found my mind racing over the events I had just witnessed. I felt troubled in my mind, and in need of comfort, so I reached down under the bedcovers and began to pull up my nightdress, careful not to alert any of my neighbors. I slid my hand slowly between my legs, and was surprised to find that I was as wet as if I had been frigging myself for half an hour. I could not explain this, but as my fingers began to stroke the little bud above my cunt I found it was already excited, swollen and eager for stimulation. I pleasured myself, still careful not to arouse attention, and found that it soothed me and I was able to sleep.