Submission ~ sissy baby charlotte
copyright ©www.GovernessX.com ~ material not to be reproduced without written permission
Governess Spanking Tinkle Creamy ~ an acronym poem *new 2/6/07*
The Spanking Hour ~ a poem *new 2/6/07*
Governess In A Bygone Age ~ a fictional history of GovernessX
Poetic Entrée To A Governess Attendance
The Sissy Alphabet Nursery Rhyme
A Nursery Re-Education ~ a story of the regression & sissification of ward charles
A Day In The Life of A Governess And Her Ward: Public and Private Retribution ~ a tale of corporal punishment & character improvement
Governess Spanking Tinkle Creamy
Gorgeous
Omnipotent
Virago
Enforcing (a)
Regime (of)
Nursery
Emasculation
Submission (and)
Shame
Sissy-baby
Punished
Across
Nylon-ed
Knees (of)
Imperious
No-nonsense
GovernessX
Tiny
Insignificant
Ninny
Kidnapped (for)
Limitless
Excitement / ejaculation
Climatic
Relieving
Eruption
Aroused (by)
Mummy’s
Yanking
The Spanking Hour
It's the Spanking Hour at
The Nursery Wendy House
The Governess sits in her chair
Dreaded leather paddle in hand
The line of petrified little ones
Awaiting in ignominy and disgrace
Necklaced in the Slate of Shame
Testimony to their breaches of
The sacred Nursery Rule and Law
Each tick of the grandmother clock
Brings closer that fateful moment
When satin dresses will be raised
Along with petticoats and frillies
Then plastics and nappies downed
For bared botties to be presented
And strokes counted and thanked
Their Ladyships are here to view
This pathetic sight of the doomed
The minute hand comes full circle
Let the Spanking Hour commence!
Governess In A Bygone Age (1)
Given GovernessX’s interest in, and affinity with, the Victorian and Edwardian ages, I wondered what she might think her life would have been like if she were born in such times?
Somehow, I imagine you, GovernessX, as a highly sophisticated and attractive, middle-aged, titled-English Rose, Countess Taylor, who reigns over an expansive country manor & estate in which maids-in-waiting and stable boys feature prominently. As the Lady of the Manor, you are a woman of independent means (perhaps helped by a generous family inheritance from a favourite aunt), financially or otherwise dependent on no man (highly unusual for the times), and a greatly respected figure in the local rural community.
You reside with your two cousins, Lucinda and Prudence Hardright, who are extremely beautiful, fun-loving and feisty young women in their late teenage years who have, unfortunately, fallen on difficult family circumstances and whom, out of the kindness of your heart, you have taken into the bosom of your home. They are constantly seen in your presence as, day-by-day, you skilfully guide and shape their personal development and social deportment in a manner befitting of their new-found status.
As the young ladies' Benefactor, Guide & Mistress, you are the adored object of their complete devotion and loyalty. For your own part, you regard it as your solemn duty to imbue within them a profound sense of the proper order of your own moral universe in which, contrary to the prevailing conservative social mores of the times, women can, and indeed should, take up public leadership roles, while keeping members of the weaker male species under them and firmly in their place, through the application of appropriate measures of female control and discipline.
As a Patron of the Arts and Literature, you set up and manage a small, but extremely successful, publishing house for aspiring and struggling authors, such as the Bronte sisters. In time, the publishing house develops a niche reputation for supporting the literary works of strong-minded female authors who write about socially-repressed, but altogether human, themes relating to female domination and the subjugation of the adult male. This interest seems to many to present an added strange and erotic dimension to your already enigmatic persona and reputation.
You also sponsor the establishment and development of a theatre company in your local northern English mill town in which you have a particular interest in informally advising on stage setting and costume design. In fact, you have been known, from time to time, to write and direct plays in your own right. Your dramatic productions are invariably ones which take place in a female-headed domestic, nursery or academic setting in which women actors always play the lead roles, while men are dressed in period girl’s or women’s clothing, playing minor and subordinate parts. Somehow nobody is surprised by, or comments on, the fact that the Management Committee of the Taylor Theatrical Company for the Dramatic Arts Ltd. is comprised solely of women of a rather dominant disposition of which you are its life-long Patron.
As part of your busy public profile, you also fulfil a number of other important and rewarding social leadership roles in the community. For example, as Governor of the Board of Management of the Western Grammar School for Aspiring Young Gentlemen, you are personally credited by many for the school’s well-established reputation for high standards of moral development and scholastic attainment. Here, you have a pivotal and personal role in ensuring the employment of suitable female teachers whom you are confident will instil the required moral and academic standards of excellence among their young charges – standards which are to be rigorously applied and consistently reinforced through the use of traditional methods of corporal punishment. Again, it seems to be broadly acceptable within the community that the school is led by the renowned French Headmistress, Madame Hortense de Chambonnard (whom you have personally selected for the post) and her all-female teaching & ancillary staff.
As a Justice of the Peace For Young Offenders in your rural borough, you have an instrumental role in adjudicating on serious misdemeanours and crimes of incorrigible local youths who come before your court. While you have an innate sense of natural justice and fair play, tending towards leniency whenever you feel there is a genuine prospect of the personal rehabilitation of a youth, nonetheless, you have no hesitancy in imposing the most severe and harshest of sentences to recalcitrant boys and young men who fail to show any sign of remorse for their wrongdoing & wickedness. Judicial punishments of cane and birch floggings (which in your official role you are required to personally supervise), allied to long periods of confinement with hard labour in The District Reformatory School For Offending Youth (again, for some odd reason, staffed only by forceful females) is your ultimate, and not infrequent, court sanction.
A number of your other important roles in the community have a significant socially progressive influence which are widely recognised and valued. For example, you have been hugely innovative in setting up the first pre-school nursery in Great Britain. You view this initiative as a response to the needs of the countless number of poor children of the working class of the Industrial Age, many of them who are abandoned urchins, whose desperate living conditions and pitiful plight are anathema to your highly developed sense of social justice.
Your visionary work in this area comes to the attention of national politicians and public policy makers based, as it is, not just on a traditional childcare model for socially-deprived kindergarten children, but on the vital need to promote their early child education and development. You have written A Guide To Good Practice For Preschool Nurseries in Great Britain and The Empire, which includes a manual on the day-to-day operations of a preschool nursery regime which has been adopted by the Government of the Day as The National Approved Standard For Nursery Childcare And Early Education. In recognition of this and your other outstanding work in this much-neglected field of child welfare, you are publicly awarded The Order of Merit for the Upbringing of Preschool Nursery Babies and Sissies (BS), which you rightly regard with great pride as your singular most professional achievement.
Another progressive initiative is your founding of The Royal Society for the Care of Abandoned and Stray Animals which you set up, through royal imprimatur, with the aim of providing loving homes for the neglected animal cast-offs of society. Here, you have led by your own wonderful example in taking in a minimum of three dogs at any one time, all of whom you make your dearest canine companions. Ahead of your time, you are the first to see the need for foreign adoptions in this area by importing into England and bringing into your home an abandoned Irish red setter and wolfhound.
Unbeknown to anyone, save your closest female confidantes and friends, you have dedicated an entire rear wing of your country manor to the conduct of a particular private activity which, while doubtlessly beneficial for the individual attendees involved, would, if discovered, heap down on you untold opprobrium and denunciation from what is, fundamentally, a deeply conservative and repressive society.
However, having never in the past flinched from the carrying out of your duty as to what you regard as being socially responsible and progressive, you demonstrate tremendous visionary courage in establishing a special preschool facility of your own, The Nursery Institute For The Infantilisation, Sissification, Humiliation and Objectification of Select Gentlemen. Your primary motivation for doing so is your heartfelt conviction that there exists within the wider society as a whole an abundance of pathetic, weak adult males who are morally and sexually repressed, and who yearn within themselves for the authentic experience of returning or being regressed to their childhood years.
Indeed, a slightly ulterior motive in providing a new home for your two bright and enchanting cousins, Lucinda and Prudence, is to inveigle them as willing and active collaborators in your secret enterprise. You are necessarily most assiduous in the selection of male attendees to your special preschool nursery; for they must be gentlemen of upright and honest character, of the utmost discretion, of reasonable means, inherently submissive by nature, and willing to enter into a personalised journey of control, discipline and humiliation under the absolute authority of The Governess Taylor, ably assisted by her two Dominant Ladies in-training.
Thus, does this majestic, mesmerising and mysterious Lady of the Manor interweave her public and private personas in such subtle and wonderful ways that provide beneficial social outlets for her great creativity and enormous organisational skills, while meeting her deeply-felt desire to be the paragon of female domination over the abject and submissive adult male of her time.
Truly, Countess Taylor conquers all before her...***
Governess in A Bygone Age (2)
Continuing the narrative theme of GovernessX in a Bygone Age, this is a short story of The Governess as a mythical Celtic Goddess who rules over the Land of the Ever Young. It is loosely based on the famous Celtic legend of the Goddess, Niamh of the Golden Hair, and how she brought a mere mortal man, Oisín (pronounced Ush-een), to the mythical land of Tir-Na-nÓg.
The story, like so many others in mythology, is about the inner journey of the human soul / psyche / spirit, the facing of tests & trials set by a powerful God / Goddess and the initiation of the underling into a higher or better state of being, followed by the pre-ordained descent to a disastrous fate.
The Governess of Tir-Na-nÓg (meaning ‘Land of the Ever Young’) was a Celtic Goddess, daughter of Mannanan, the Celtic God of the Sea who roamed the west coast waters and gave his name to the Isle of Man. The Governess was the most beautiful of all the Celtic Goddesses. Her long raven hair hung down in tresses and at the end of each plait was tied a coloured bead. Slender and exquisite as a birch tree, of shape as sweet as the fine clover, of colour as picturesque as a summer morning, The Governess was indeed the Glorianna of the Celtic lands and seas.
One morning, the Fianna (a band of Celtic warriors) were deer-hunting on the shores of Leas Lean on the far west coast of Ireland. Suddenly, they saw a wonderful white horse coming towards them from out across the sea. Riding on the horse was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. She wore a long dress as blue as the summer sky, studded with silver stars, and she was brandishing a riding whip.
"What is your name and what land have you come from?" asked Fionn, the leader of the Fianna. "Why, I am The Governess of Tir-Na-nÓg in the western seas. My father is King of Tir-Na-nÓg, " she replied. "I have heard of a certain pretend-big-boy named Oisín. I have been told of his so-called great courage and of his pretentious poetry. I have come to find him and take him back with me to be regressed as a forever-newborn in my nursery home of Tir-Na-nÓg."
"Tell me," Oisín said, without revealing his identity to the awesome Goddess, "what sort of land is Tir-Na-nÓg?" "Why, Tir-Na-nÓg is the land of forever-nursery babies and sissies," replied The Governess. "It is a happy place, with no pain or sorrow, and where I, as The Governess, look after every baby and sissy who lives there under my Law & Rule. Any silly wish you make, (only) with my express permission, comes true and no baby or sissy ever grows old there. If you come with me now, Oisín, you will find all this to be true for yourself."
Having nurtured a secret desire all his warrior-life to return to his earliest childhood days and experiences, Oisín boldly mounted the white horse of the mesmerising Goddess Governess. She, for her part, was careful that the wanabie-nursery baby was properly tie-tied, so that he would not fall off her horse on his long journey across the western seas. Oisín fondly said goodbye to his father and friends. He promised them he would return again someday. The horse galloped off over the water, moving as swiftly as a shadow. The Fianna were very sad to see their hero go, but Fionn reminded them of Oisín's promise to return to them one day.
On their arrival at the Land of the Ever Young, all the nursery babies and sissies warmly welcomed Oisín and held a great feast of milkie, rusks, juicey and jelly & ice cream in his honour. It was indeed a wonderful land, just as The Governess had said it would be. It was a timeless, ageless, happy place; a source of all wisdom, peace, beauty, harmony and immortality; a world full of magic, enchantment and music.
During the daytime, Oisín played never-ending fun games with his many new baby and sissy friends and at night, before going to beddy-bye-byes, he was allowed by The Goddess Governess to tell them exciting stories of Fionn & the Fianna and of their lives in Ireland. Oisín had never felt so happy as he did with The Governess and before long, he became her very special forever little baby, as she had promised him, and was recognised as such by all the babies & sissies in Tir-Na-nÓg.
Time passed quickly and although he was very happy, Oisín gradually grew more and more lonely and began thinking of returning home to Ireland to visit his father and his former warriors in the Fianna. The Governess refused him permission to do so for, after all, he was nothing more than a tiny little one and he might easily get lost. She had warned him that if he ever he went back to Ireland without her permission and touched the soil of the country, he would never return to her or to the Land of the Ever Young again!
However, despite this clear warning from The Goddess Governess, one early morning, the very naughty Oisín rose silently from his crib and crept into the stables where The Governess’s white horse was standing asleep. He gently woke him up and, after feeding him an apple, mounted him with the help of a ladder (due to his little legs) and rode into the western seas, away from Tir-Na-n nÓg, to return from whence he had come. The Goddess Governess, in warning him about leaving, had not alerted him to the fact that, although he thought he had only been away for a few years, he had really been a forever-newborn of The Governess in Tir Na nÓg for well over three hundred years (since there were no clocks allowed by The Governess in The Land of the Ever Young).
Finally, having been guided to Ireland by The Governess’s trusty steed after many days travelling across the western seas, his old home seemed to be indeed a very strange place to Oisín. There appeared to be no trace of his father or the rest of the Fianna. The people he met seemed to be very, very big to him.
As he passed through the Glen of the Giants, he saw some huge men trying to move a large stone. "I will help you," shouted the enthusiastic Oisín, being the ever-helpful little baby he had been taught to be by his Goddess Governess. The men were astounded at the sight of this little baby in double terry cloth nappies seated on a white horse. Stooping from his saddle, Oisín tried to lift the stone with one hand and to hurl it with all the little baby strength that he could muster.
With that, the saddle girth broke and poor Oisín was flung to the ground on his botty. Immediately, the white horse disappeared into thin air and the men, to their great shock and horror, saw Oisín turn before them into a grey and wizened old man (and still dressed in his nappies). Then, they gently took him to a holy man who lived nearby.
"Where is my father and the Fianna?" Oisín asked. When he was told that they were long dead, he was truly heartbroken. He spoke of his wonderful time in Tir-Na- nÓg and of his beautiful Celtic Goddess Governess whom he would never see again. How sorry he was now that he had not obeyed the command of The Governess to stay on her white horse, no matter what. Then, sadly, before their very eyes, Oisín died and crumbled away to dust.
The story of the beautiful Goddess Governess of Tir-Na- nÓg and her darling forever little baby, Oisín, has continued to this day to live on in Celtic folklore. It is not uncommon for modern-day Governesses to tell this sad morality tale to their babies and sissies as a scary reminder to them that they should always be obedient to their Governess and that they should never, ever stray from the nursery without their permission.
Indeed, it is often the case that Governesses today, when placing their little charges in their baby reins before going outside the nursery for walkies, would humorously chide them that it is really for their own good, as: “Otherwise, you might stray off from the Land of the Ever Young and never return again - just like poor Baby Oisín!”
Poetic Entrée To A Governess Attendance
Autumnal early flight o’er open sea and mountain vales,
Then shuttling trains to traverse sweet Yorkshire’s dales.
Rest awhile midst the throng of the rustic market fair,
Before setting out in search of elusive Todmorden’s lair.
By meandering runny brook and lofty railway bridge,
Turn right pass the quarry factory and up the hilly ridge,
Where nestled there in the bosom of the cliff’s rugged hue,
The charming Practice dwelling so enchanting to my view.
In animated spirits I boldly enter through the wooden gate,
And thrice do pull the bell rope while attending there to wait.
Then a glorious vision to behold of the Governess at the door,
Invites me in and in submission I kneel before her on the floor.
The Sissy Alphabet Nursery Rhyme
A is for my Apron, that I do adore,
Oh so nice & pretty, upon my pinafore.
B is for my Buggy, in which I go outside,
To park, mall or playground, for my daily ride.
C is for my Curtseys, I practise to impress,
By graceful, dainty bows, before my Governess.
D is for my Dollies, Megan, Beth & Sue,
Such lovely party dresses, yellow, pink and blue.
E is my Enema, to make my tummy well,
And clean out all those foodies, that make it oh so swell.
F is for my Frillies, so delicate to the touch,
My skin cries out aloud, “I love you very much!”
G is for my Garter, to keep my stocking high,
And yields a wondrous vision, of my upper thigh.
H is for my Hair, so shiny does it glow,
My lovely curly ringlets, all tied up in a bow.
I is for my Inky, to feed my nibby pen,
That writes my silly stories, every now and then.
J is for my Jammies, fleece and winceyette,
That my plastic pants, do keep from getting wet.
K is for my Knickers, I love to wear so long,
Directoire or satin frilly, but never skimpy thong.
L is for my Lipstick, to colour my lips a sweet,
My dimply cheeks so rosy, when others I do meet.
M is for my Mummy, oh She who is so rare,
Graceful, tender & loving, to whom can She compare?
N is for my Nappy, to which I do so thrill,
When my bladder opens, and rushes in to fill.
O is for my Onesie, that keeps me snug and warm,
When curling up to Mummy, safe and free from harm.
P is for my potty, I’m forced at times to sit,
Until my Governess, She deems no longer fit.
Q is for my Qualms, ashamed at what I do,
Pondering the spankies, which surely must accrue.
R is for my Rabbit, all fluffy, soft & pink,
I cradle in my arms, until off to sleep I sink.
S is my Submission, to The Petticoat,
Surrender to its Rule, is my life-long oath.
T is for my Teddy, Toddy by his name,
Dowdy in complexion, I love him all the same.
U is for my Undies, my botty likes to feel,
Cotton, lace and silk, they do so much appeal.
V is for my Vitamins, that Mummy does insist,
Her milkies, snacks and din-dins, so futile to resist.
W is for my Winkle-tie, with its noisy bell,
Warning vigilant Mummy, of my willy-wanky swell.
X if for the XXXies, that Mummy will impart,
To her goodly sissy girly, who touches her dear heart.
Y is for my Yummies, all dripping down my bib,
As She cleans face & pandies, to place me in my crib.
Z is for my Zeal, to please my Governess,
No higher goal than this, can I aspire to address.
A Nursery Re-Education: Introduction
Continuing to face into the corner, and fixed in his shameful pose, charles’s anxiety increased with every passing moment as he waited with baited breath for his Governess’s expected instruction. The only sounds he could hear were those of The Governess’s high-heeled shoes resounding on the old oak floor boards of the Nursery, as she busied herself with, what charles surmised to be, her preparations for the imminent introduction to his nursery re-education. This had the effect of heightening, even further, charles’s sense of anticipation of what was to come.
Then, the sound of the Governess’s movements gave way to what, to the boy, seemed an interminable period of eerie silence. charles felt his legs beginning to tremble, gripped as he was in the fear of a dreaded expectancy, when it seemed to him that time itself had been suspended. This coincided with the by-now painful downward pressure on his full bladder – an embarrassing predicament which seemed only to accentuate his vulnerability to the scenario about to unfold before him.
At last, he heard the ominous words delivered in a clear and stern voice that filled the room: “Turn to face your Governess, you naughty boy!” charles obeyed the instruction without hesitation.
There before him, standing in the centre of the room, with her legs astride and hands folded neatly to the front of her waist, was the striking vision of his beautiful and imposing Governess. Transfixed by the glare of her dark brown eyes, charles felt firmly rooted to the spot where he stood before her. She was a remarkably attractive woman in her middle thirties. Her finely featured face was crowned by the soft tresses of her dark chestnut hair tied up elegantly in a bun and her natural complexion required little application of make-up except for a touch of deep-red lipstick which gave greater prominence to her pouted lips. Her graceful neck, secured with a velvet choker and cameo, rose from the high lace collar of her full-sleeved white French blouse, while her trim figure was complemented by an almost full-length black skirt which seemed to highlight wonderfully her shapely legs encased in clear, seamed stockings. The very model of Victorian discipline, The Governess’s natural air of elegance and refinement bespoke the class and quality of her upbringing.
“Come and kneel before me, this instant, charles.” The Governess, being of rather petite stature, was determined to establish from the outset the natural order of things that was to prevail in the Nursery from this moment forward in her dealings with her gangly ward. charles found himself kneeling abjectly before her, his head cast downwards, without needing to give his action a second thought. The Governess began to pace up and down before the boy, as he focused his gaze on her black leather high-heeled shoes. Her very deliberate steps seemed to him to be perfectly in concert with the annunciation of her carefully chosen words.
“You are about to commence your nursery re-education here in the Nursery under my personal direction and supervision. You should be in no doubt, charles, as to the necessity for this. Your poor record of academic attainment, allied to your recent obnoxious adolescent behaviours, require that you be removed forthwith from the School to which you are clearly no longer suited. Is that understood, boy?”
“Yes, Governess,” charles sheepishly replied.
“Louder, Charles!”
“Yes, Governess, as you wish”, he answered more robustly.
“That is better! At all times in the Nursery, you will refer to me only by the terms, Governess or Ma’am. I alone shall be responsible for your nursery re-education which will, not just be limited to your academic endeavour & achievement, but will also involve my personal supervision of all aspects of your upbringing and wellbeing. Is this clear, charles?”
“Yes, very clear, Governess,” said charles, not yet able to fully take in the ramifications of his Governess’s words.
“Good. Here in the Nursery, I cater for different age categories of Adult Babies”. charles immediately was deflated on hearing the Governess’s worrying reference to babies. “These include infant adult babies who require an intensive regime of childcare, wobbler-toddler adult babies who are older and have developed more dexterity & mobility, but who are still largely dependent for their care needs and, finally preschool adult babies who are the oldest age group and who undergo a more structured programme of nursery education to prepare them for entry into the School. Can you repeat to me the three age categories I have just described, charles?”
The boy felt a sudden release of wee-wee, as he stumbled through a stuttering explanation of infants, wobblers and preschool babies in response to The Governess’s unexpected question.
“Never mind, charles, you will understand soon enough. Henceforth, you are to be dealt with as a preschool adult baby. You will be allowed speech, but only at a level appropriate to your age. Given your older disposition as an adult baby, your education and care plan will be underpinned by a traditional regime of nursery discipline and corporal punishment to which you will totally submit, at my discretion, without question or dissent. Do you understand what I have said to you, charles?”
The boy was too shocked to answer straight away, but before he could gather himself to respond, The Governess walked over to the Nursery cupboard and, taking a key from her skirt pocket to unlock it, opened out the two doors to reveal a truly awesome array of implements of punishment, each one described in a beautiful calligraphic notice above it –‘Nursery Paddle’, ‘Leather Strap’, ‘Scottish Taws’, ‘Junior Cane’, ‘Governess Cane’, ‘Dragon Cane’, and ‘Nursery Birch’.
charles was so overcome by the truly devastating sight presented before him that he was now no longer able to control his bursting bladder, as his wee-wee flowed freely down into a growing and spreading puddle on the floor before him. The Governess completely ignored the boy’s embarrassing plight, as he broke down into convulsive sobbing at what was happening to him.
“As a preschool adult baby, you will from time to time be subject to disgraceful base urges which must be curbed and constrained. Accordingly, you will be introduced under my supervision to a regime of personalized and controlled sissification, charles. Do you understand what this means? No? Well let me demonstrate!” With that, the Governess quickly pulled over a wall curtain where, hung up in a neatly arranged sequence, were four sissy satin frilly dresses on display, with their matching appendages of frilly knickers, petticoats, tinkle-ties, mittens, footsies and bonnets. charles was utterly overcome by this mélange of pinks, blues and yellows which seemed to reinforce to him his already belittled status before his imperious Governess.
“As sissy charlotte, you will behave at all times as the sissy satin frilly baby girl that you are – whether in private or in public!” The thought of him being exposed in public in such a state seemed to bring charles to a state of near total breakdown, where his will was now completely subjugated to the absolute authority of his Governess.
However, The Governess had one more final verbal revelation for her new preschool baby which she was sure would utterly divest him of any lingering doubts he might be having as to his altered status.
“You should be mindful, charles, that at any time I feel that you are not complying to my satisfaction with the terms & conditions of your regime as a preschool adult baby or a sissy baby girl, I will reserve my absolute and sole prerogative to regress you to the state of an infant adult baby in the Nursery……And be very assured that I shall have no hesitation to treat you as such, should I so decide. Is this perfectly clear to you, charles?”
By now completely crestfallen by the humiliating cumulative effects of his Governess’s prescription for his coming nursery re-education, charles was genuinely unable to muster a coherent response through his continuous sobbing and peeing.
Having achieved what she set out to do with such a dramatic impact, The Governess then took out a potty from the Nursery press and, bringing charles tenderly by the hand to the corner of the room, she smartly took his short trousers and white cotton underpants down to his ankles and instructed him to sit on the potty indefinitely. Under threat of a sound spanking, he was told not to pee into his potty, no matter how much he might feel like it!
Leaving him there in his degraded condition, The Governess turned on her heels to leave the room and closed the door behind her new preschool baby who had just received, under her expert guidance and manipulation, an introductory seminal lesson in his nursery re-education.
***A Nursery Education: Under The Petticoat
The slow passage of the Nursery clock on the wall before him was a visible and tedious reminder to charles of his increasing vulnerable state. Seated on the potty, his short trousers and underpants tugged around his ankles, the boy struggled to cope with the growing cramp pains in his upper thighs, as well as the pressure of his still partially-full bladder. Over thirty minutes had passed when, finally, he heard the deliberate footsteps of The Governess on the corridor outside the room. Then, there followed a period of strange silence which seemed to heighten even more charles’s sense of expectancy before The Governess at last re-entered the Nursery room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Without casting even a sideways glance to the boy, she walked over to where the sissy clothing was displayed and proceeded to pick out a fine lace petticoat from the rack. Ordering charles to his feet, she first checked the potty and confirmed for herself that he had followed her previous instruction. Then, bending down to divest him completely of his trousers and underwear, she abruptly led her new preschool baby by his ear-lobe to the centre of the room where he had deposited his wee-wee which by now had settled into a widespread pool that had begun drying into the old floor boards. Forcing the boy by his shoulders down to his knees, The Governess commanded him to thoroughly clean up his liquid excess with the petticoat, warning him that failure to do so to her complete satisfaction would merit an immediate and severe spanking with the nursery paddle.
Standing back, she delighted at the sight of her preschool baby’s raised bare bottom, as he diligently applied himself to the degrading task set for him. After a number of minutes, The Governess instructed charles to cease and to stand facing into the corner. Then carefully picking up the sodden petticoat by its dry edges, she walked over to her adult baby and, without warning, placed the wee-saturated garment over his head and shoulders. charles coiled backwards with the shock of the wet female undergarment coming over his face, as its watery content slowly filtered down on to his neck and under his short collar & vest.
“Your new preschool baby status is clearly beyond any doubt, you disgraceful, naughty young boy”, said The Governess – her opening words sounding all the more resonant to charles due to his vision being blocked by the dripping petticoat over his eyes. “You could not even listen to my simple instructions as to the demeanour and conduct I expect of you in your Nursery re-education without being able to control your bladder. Still – we should not be too surprised – after all, you are nothing more than a silly preschool baby! This is your first experience of being put under the petticoat, sissy charlotte – if a singularly wet one – but be assured, it shall not be your last! We shall first deal with your sorry nappied-head and then proceed to introduce you to your inaugural Nursery punishment.”
The Governess opened the door to the adjoining bathroom which had been especially designed for the toiletry and ablution requirements of her adult babies. Running the metal oval-shaped bath with a well-measured mix of cold and hot water until the desired temperature had been reached, and after adding lots of bubbly, she returned to the main Nursery room where charles continued standing in his petticoat shame and in an evident state of discomfort & distress. Putting on her rubber gloves, The Governess removed the soiled petticoat from her preschool baby’s head and disposed of it in the laundry basket. charles presented a truly dishevelled sight with his hair, face and shoulders soaked right through by his own waters. Stripping him of his shirt and vest, she led the now naked and deflated boy by his ear to the bathroom.
Then, instructing charles to sit into the bath without protest, The Governess put on her long plastic apron over her shoulders, securing the tags behind her back. Picking up a bar of baby soap, she roughly applied the soap all over his body, building up a strong lather as she scrubbed him vigorously with a long-handled bath brush, and then shampooed his hair, before rinsing him down using the shower-head. Promptly ordering him out of the bath, she dried her preschool baby with a large pink, floral towel, without fuss or ceremony. She continued her ministrations by sitting him on the edge of the bath and rubbing in baby oil to his nether region, thereby bringing him to an early state of arousal as her fingers tantalizingly fondled his penis, testicles and under-carriage area. The boy’s body cleansing was completed by the application of copious amounts of perfumed talk over his milky white skin. By now, charles felt himself surrendering to the control of his nursery Governess, having suppressed his initial drive to resist her, and increasingly happy within himself to yield with growing excitement to her finely-honed skills in regression and humiliation.
The Governess led charles by the hand back into the main Nursery room to the sissy clothes rack. Pointing out his trousers on the floor, she told the boy to take a long leave of them since they only served for him to assume airs of ridiculous superiority which he could never posses in a relationship under a dominant female. Then, warning the boy that she would stand for no nonsense whatsoever, she dressed him with deliberate purpose in vintage under-clothing of chemise, long stockings, drawers, petticoats & a corset and then buttoned up in a tight-fitting bodice. His feelings of acute embarrassment were swallowed up by the sense of utter disgrace caused by his Governess placing a pair of her own laced drawers over him – the waistband being tied around his neck and his arms put through the long legs of the drawers as if they were sleeves and fastened with garters at his wrists! She then brought her baby charlotte to the long wall mirror where he has able to view his sissified self in all his exquisite under-raiment.
“From now on, charles, I shall exact your total obedience and abject submission as your Governess. Here in the Nursery, you are to be governed by the petticoat. You will find yourself under it in more senses than one. Henceforth, you will tremble at the mere rustle of the petticoat in your presence. Make no mistake, my boy, by it you shall be governed. Petticoat-rule shall be at the very heart of your re-education regime in this Nursery”.
Charles now knew deep within his being that his future here would be rooted in a sissification transformation where the petticoat would have domain over his budding masculinity. Strangely, he felt himself warming to the prospect of his fate.
“To enforce your subjection to the petticoat, the emblem of your female domination, you shall stand back into the corner with one over your head until such time as I make the necessary preparations for your first Nursery punishment”. With that, The Governess took one of her flannel petticoats from her soiled linen basket, tied it together at the top and threw it over his head. Once again, baby charlotte could be said to be “under the petticoat”!
The Governess rolled out the Nursery horse to the centre of the room. The horse was made of black mahogany wood with a soft leather bolster on top and had a series of tapes attached along its length which were clearly designed as body restraints. Summoning charles over to her, The Governess ordered him to place himself down its length and proceeded to strap him by his ankles, ensuring that his thighs were separated by the horse and pressing cruelly on his private parts. She furthered his subjugation by fastening the tapes around his waist and his neck. Lastly, she bound his hands together underneath the horse, thereby completely immobilizing her preschool baby in readiness for what was to unfold.
Walking to the Nursery cupboard, the Governess took out a long moulded birch rod attached to a short wooden handle which had been given to her as her first implement of punishment by her revered Governess tutor many years previously. She swished it though the air a number of times to test its pliability and, in the process, terrorising the harnessed boy to the point of utter fear. Coming up slowly behind him, she seductively lifted the hem of her soiled petticoat which she had dressed him in, together with his chemise, with the birch rod head, bringing the garments right up over his shoulders to expose his buttoned-up drawers.
“Now, your bottom must be suitably prepared for you to receive the gift of the birch”, said The Governess. With that, she slowly undid each of the buttons of her preschool baby’s drawers which fell away to his sides.
Charles, in his wholly frightened state, had fully expected that his Governess would apply the birch to his bare bottom from behind him. However, he was somewhat perplexed when she placed a small footstool to the left of his lowered head. It was only when she placed her right foot on the stool and daintily lifted her skirt over her upper thigh to reveal her layers of frilled lace petticoats that charles understood that the symbolism of his corporal punishment and his petticoat-rule would forever be inextricably linked for him in his mind. Sitting almost upon his neck, The Governess placed her right leg across him, smothering him with her petticoats, the back of which fell to the floor over his head.
“How to do you find your predicament now, charles?” said The Governess. “Lost in the depths of my petticoats, tasting the sweet smell of their aroma, as you await the lash of the birch on your exposed posterior”.
As she released the first vicious stroke of the birch lengthwise, the Governess had the immense satisfaction of being able to view through the wall mirror the novel posture of the preschool baby – his bottom raised for punishment and his head buried underneath her underskirts. After the slow, methodical delivery of 50 telling cuts of the birch by his Governess – an awesome introductory Nursery punishment – charles was released from the horse and collapsed on to his knees, wholly beaten and exhausted. She made her preschool baby kiss her hands and the remains of the rod, while eliciting from him his heartfelt gratitude for punishing him so severely.
Then, in a final wonderful erotic gesture of petticoat-rule, The Governess tenderly lifted the boy off his knees and brought him to a chair facing the wall mirror where, seating herself in the chair, and with charles on his knees before her, she spread her legs apart, raised her skirts high around her waist and instructed charles to sink his head deep between her legs, as she encouraged him to spend the rest of his tears and to recover himself in an act of intimate and subservient worship.
As charles willingly gave himself over, body and mind, to his Governess’s delicious invitation, the last sensation he was to experience that fateful afternoon in the Nursery under the sway of his disciplinarian Governess was the feel of her skirts descending over his head and being lost in an inner world of darkness & delight where he was once again - Under The Petticoat!***
A Nursery Re-Education: The Dressing of sissy charlotte
It seemed to charles that over an hour or more had passed since he first found himself unwillingly surrendering to a growing, but nonetheless, rather pleasant feeling of entrapment within the interior world of his Governess’s undergarments, following the painful ordeal earlier that afternoon of his severe assignation at her hands. With his head ever-more firmly locked between the well-formed, finely-laced thighs of The Governess, the boy felt his virility slowly ebbing away, as he began to yield in increasing despair and resignation to his sense of her dominion over him.
Indeed, reflecting back on this first day of his nursery re-education, her mesmeric influence, and in particular her introduction to his petticoat-discipline, had had a profoundly disconcerting effect on charles’s spirit, sapping, as it did, his strength and powers of resistance to her sway. Little by little, as the day had progressed, he discovered himself giving in to a flood of warm, and sometimes conflicting, feminine associations that the petticoat was evoking in his susceptible nature. For instance, every time the Governess’s skirts had brushed against him - he was certain more by her design than by accident - it was like being hit by a sudden electrical shock!
Now, cowed and humiliated beneath his Governess’s frilly undergarments, following his wretched petticoat-shaming and testing corporal punishment, charles was wholly overcome by a poignant sense of his self-contempt & abasement. Reluctantly, he was forced to conclude that his time in the Nursery would involve much more than what first might have been apparent on the surface of things. The Petticoat was to have its revenge on him following his wasted opportunities and refractory behaviours in the school. By now completely emasculated, he realised that he was to be nothing more than a child-like subject to his Governess’s regime of tutored education, strict discipline and petticoat-governance.
For her own part, by now fully recovered from her physical exertions of applying the birch, The Governess was inwardly very content with her carefully-planned, initial implementation of charles’s nursery re-education. She had previously determined that this important induction period would be akin to a hermetically-sealed experience, one enacted solely between herself and her ward, who was to be denied any contact whatsoever with other people and with the outside world, all the more to impress and reinforce upon him his sense of her absolute authority and rule over him. Of course, the advancement of his programme of re-education & sissification would, in time, doubtlessly lead to many intriguing and exciting opportunities for his exposure to the company of other dominant females, both privately and publicly, but this was certainly not the time to reveal such enticing scenarios to the boy.
As she coquettishly whirled her skirts around her knees, thus granting charles his first glimpse of light for some considerable time, The Governess at last rose from her chair in a sprightly manner, her head thrown back archly with pride, emphasizing her well-shaped bosom and bodiced-trim waist. As charles, still on his knees, looked around to gaze adoringly upwards at his Governess, she seemed to him in his fully supplicant state to be the very embodiment of triumphant womanhood.
“Get up at once! It is time for you to be attired in your sissy dress, charlotte. Yes! This is to be your new sissy name, henceforth. Say it to me!” The boy, drawing from deep within himself the last vestiges of his rebellion, refused to utter his designated girlie name for The Governess. Promptly detecting his mood of defiance, she bent over and, grabbing him firmly around his waist with her left hand, she smartly pulled down his silk stockings to his ankles and proceeded to smack the backs of his legs with the stinging force of her right hand until his shrieks filled the Nursery room. “What [SMACK] is you name [SMACK]? Say [SMACK] it for me, you naughty [SMACK] sissy [SMACK] girl or your bottom [SMACK] will be re-visited by the [SMACK] birch! If it is [SMACK] punishment you want, you [SMACK] shall have it in [SMACK] abundance, you [SMACK] willful [SMACK] sissy minx”. Charles quickly relented in the face of his Governess’s imminent threat and sputtered out the ill-fated words through his tears of shame: “My name is….charlotte, Governess….my name is…..sissy charlotte....I promise to be a good bo....I mean, girl....please don’t punish me any more....please!....please!”
sissy charlotte then found herself facing front to the Nursery class blackboard, her drawers having been pulled down around her ankles, as The Governess carefully pinned her petticoats and long chemise high up around her shoulders, exposing to full view the latticed marks of her still well-tanned bare bottom. Placing a Nursery tall canonical hat on charlotte’s head, The Governess instructed the sissy girl to write with white chalk in small, meticulous hand script the lines x 50: “My name is sissy charlotte and I love my new sissy name”.
charlotte took great care in the writing of the lines, since she did not wish to incur the continuing wrath of her Governess, although she had difficulty in keeping her lines straight and in staying upright, as she tripped time and time again due to the shuffle effect of her feet being caught around her drawers. As she diligently completed her task, charlotte could hear from behind her the rustling, silky sounds of what she surmised could only be dresses or petticoats, as her Governess prepared her for her first dressing as a sissy girl in the Nursery.
“Now pull up your drawers, charlotte, take off that dunce’s hat and come here this instant!” pronounced The Governess. The sissy novice turned around to see her Governess sitting on one side of the divan and surrounded by an ensemble of lilac, white and cream-coloured sissy garments which struck charlotte, as she was forced to admit to herself and somewhat to her surprise, as being rather attractive, even beautiful, to behold.
“You are to strip yourself of all your clothes and place them here in the Nursery laundry basket. And you are not to dally, my girl, if you know what is good for you!” exclaimed The Governess who had a determined look on her countenance that clearly communicated she was about her business. charlotte soon divested herself of her clothing, standing naked before her Governess who then stood up and commenced by placing a cream, chiffon chemise over the sissy girl’s head. The feel of the texture of the elegant garment, as it fell across and down the clear white skin of her shoulders, back and front, made charlotte’s upper body shiver with sheer delight!
Next, The Governess dressed charlotte in a new pair of cream silk stockings which she was careful to ensure were fitted straight up her legs and sufficiently taut at their lacey tops to be held up by the four clasps of her cream lace suspenders. With her stockings now encased, charlotte felt beyond the point of rescue but, in truth, was secretly relishing the next stage of her sissy dressing discipline. The Governess then put charlotte into a pair of cream full-bloomer style, silk drawers which were of a very long fit with frilled cuffs. The sissy girl was a little embarrassed at the length of her knickers, being slightly agitated as to what might be the length of her skirt, while feeling all comfy and protected by the cool and sensuous touch of the silky fabric, especially on the delicate skin of her tortured bottom.
The Governess then brought a low stool in front of the Nursery mirror and had charlotte kneel on it, instructing her to keep her head up and to maintain an upright posture. Walking behind the sissy novice, The Governess held up a new white taffeta petticoat with a very finely-stitched lace hem. “Remember, sissy girl charlotte, it is by the Rule of the Petticoat that your life and re-education here in the Nursery and beyond it is to be governed. This shall be the focus of your discipline and training. Do not be distracted by the other accoutrements of your sissy clothing, since no matter how beautiful or alluring they may appear to you in your sissy innocence, they are nothing more than mere ‘refinements’ when compared to the Glory of your Petticoat! As a visible reminder of this truth, your petticoat hem shall always be visible below your skirt for others to observe, no matter what form of sissy dress I may choose for you. Do you understand clearly what I am saying to you, sissy charlotte?” The sissy girl retorted a respectful affirmative as The Governess placed the garment over her head & shoulders, almost in a quasi-religious fashion, such was the import of the very act. The moment seemed to charlotte herself to be one of a near solemn anointing, as she formally embraced her subjugation to the Power of the Petticoat now in the present and into her future life.
charlotte was still a little perturbed that her long drawers were not fully hidden, but was soon tempered in her unease by the sight of the frau-frau satin lilac dress being placed over her petticoat by her Governess. The beautiful dress was fitted with frilling across the bodice and along the edges of its hem, and it had elbow-length puffed sleeves and a Peter Pan white collar. charlotte noticed that narrow black ribbons were gathered at the cuffs of the sleeves which perfectly matched those at the edge of her knicker-legs. Having first been somewhat fretful over the sight of her over-extended drawers, the sissy girl’s concerns were dissipated completely when viewed in the context of her overall new sissy clothing. The dress had a long back fastening of small pearl buttons which The Governess lovingly attended to and was completed by a white wide sash belt which was tied by The Governess behind in a big bow. charlotte was simply enthralled & delighted by how she felt and looked in her new sissy attire. Seating charlotte on the stool, her Governess then put on the girl’s short white ankle socks with frilly, lacey turn ups and a pair of matching lilac-coloured Mary Jane shoes. The final additions were a lilac Bo Beep bonnet which was hung loosely around her neck by a string and a delicate, minute, lace ladylike handkerchief that struck charlotte as being of no practical use whatever, but which she was commanded by her Governess to hold at all times in her hand.
sissy charlotte was so happy, as she sat that evening at the dinner table in the company of her wonderful Governess and eating her chocolate cookies & drinking her chilled milk. The Governess had placed a large white bib with coloured teddies around her neck at the start of the meal, so as to protect her lovely satin dress. During the repast, The Governess had occasion to reprimand sissy charlotte as to her inappropriate language for a preschool baby. Unfortunately, charlotte was way too excited, indeed almost bordering on being hyperactive, by the events (good and bad) of the first day of her nursery re-education that she resorted to her natural tendency to over-intellectualise her thoughts and feelings by using clever adult words which greatly angered her Governess.
Putting down her knife and fork noisily on her dinner plate, The Governess rose determinedly from her seat and brought sissy charlotte forcibly by the hand to the Nursery spanking chair in the next room. “Now, you silly sissy, you have gone and spoiled a lovely evening together by verbalizing in your big adult words which no well-behaved preschool baby would even understand, never mind speak. I will soon beat that arrogance out of you, you naughty, sissy girl! You are to speak only big baby words while you are here in the Nursery and when you are outside. I will not tolerate your affected intellectual superiority which counts for absolutely nothing in this disciplinary regime, my girl. For this, you are to be punished severely with the Nursery spanker!”
With that, sissy charlotte found herself lying over her Governess’s knees, her face down towards the oak floor and her bottom arched high. The Governess pulled up her dress and petticoats over her back before summarily pulling down her drawers to her mid-thighs. The leather paddle came down ferociously on her bare, marked bottom, with stroke after stroke delivered by The Governess in a slow and methodical fashion. By the twentieth stroke, charlotte’s legs were kicking high and her drawers had fallen around her ankles. The Governess removed them altogether and, momentarily standing charlotte on her feet, she hitched up her skirt and petticoats over her knees and instructed the frightened sissy girl to come back over her left leg, while proceeding to pinion her with right leg so as to restrict her movements. The execution of a further twenty hard strokes of the paddle reduced charlotte to a sniveling wreck of a sissy novice who was pleading in her big baby language to be forgiven by her Governess.
Ignoring completely her pleas, The Governess brought the chastened girl to the small bedroom adjoining her own. She stripped charlotte of her clothes and put her sitting on the edge of the bed. The Governess then dressed her in a pair of pink rhumba knickers which were covered by a pair of clear plastic, elasticised pants in case of bedtime accidents. Next, she introduced charlotte to “the naughty girl nightie” which was a long, pink floral flannelette, with a laced-trimmed collar, that reached down to her knees.
sissy charlotte was told by her Governess to climb into the bed and to say her night prayer before going to sleep. She prayed earnestly and simply for her Governess and for all the sissy girls and little babies that she looked after, that they would all be kept safe and well. Sitting close by her on the bed, The Governess bent down and placed a loving tender kiss on sissy charlotte’s forehead telling her that, while she had indeed been a very naughty sissy girl during her first day in the Nursery, she would continue to devote herself as her Governess to her re-education, discipline and care.
charlotte was instantly filled with a deep warm glow, as her Governess turned off the light and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. The tender light from her Governess’s own bedroom cast a pale reflection on to the taffeta petticoat that The Governess had left hanging on the wardrobe. As she felt her eyelids close over to soon visit the Land of Nod, charlotte contemplated on what was a truly fitting end to the first day of her nursery re-education under the petticoat rule of her Governess.
[This could be said to be a developing story of a lucky sissified boy being “head over ears” in love with his petticoat-dominant Governess!]***
A Nursery Re-Education: Learning The Nursery Routine (AM)
A week had now passed since the newbie sissy charlotte had first been ensconced within her Nursery regime of re-education & sissification under the supervision of her Disciplinarian Governess. From the outset, the deliberate and orderly routine of the Nursery regime had been planned and executed with a military-like precision by The Governess, with the clear and focused intention of reinforcing in the mind and heart of her sensitive, but recalcitrant, ward, the reality of her altered status as a sissy adult baby who was henceforth bound to the strictures and humiliations of petticoat government in her life.
The Governess had meticulously designed a detailed programme of daily activities & events centered on the basic Nursery functions of personal dress, cleanliness, lessons, play, meals, toileting, outdoor excursions, discipline & punishment and bedtime preparations & sleep. The very busy schedule, set out in a roster-like fashion and displayed prominently on the Nursery wall, ensured that sissy charlotte was denied idle time to contemplate anything other than the immediate tasks and endeavours set for her at any given moment during her day and night time servitude in the Nursery. Indeed, as akin to the training in of a new puppy dog, charlotte found herself becoming more and more dependent with each passing day on the very regularity and consistency inherent within her daily regime, imbuing within her, as was its singular purpose, an increased sense of self-confidence and belief in her new Nursery environment and in her enforced sissified existence.
sissy charlotte’s waking day commenced precisely at seven o’clock with the sound of the morning bell being loudly rung by The Governess from the bottom of the Nursery stairs. The sissy girl knew that she had but fifteen minutes to rise, toilet and bathe, so as to present herself completely naked in her bedroom to await the arrival of her Governess for a thorough inspection of her body cleanliness. This included the checking of teeth, finger and toe nails, hair, ear lobes, nostrils, armpits, groin and anal passage (while being made to bend over for the latter).
Infringements of the Nursery cleanliness code were dealt with summarily by The Governess through either, depending on the gravity of the lapse incurred, a smart smacking of the back of the sissy’s legs in a standing position, the sharp smacking of her upper thighs whilst being told to lay on the bed with her legs splayed wide or the forced marching by the ear lobe down the stairs to the Nursery spanking chair for a sound over-the-knee, bare bottom chastisement with The Governess’s skilled spanking hand or, on occasion, with her black leather riding gloves on. The perfunctory nature of such early morning punishments had the salutary and peremptory effect of setting the correct tone for the rest of the day for sissy charlotte, sharpening, as they did, her awareness and senses, in order to be the more compliant in responding to the prescribed activities that were ahead of her.
Due to her complete inexperience as a sissy, charlotte was dressed for the day by The Governess herself in her own bedroom, as the girl could not yet be trusted to be adequately familiarised with the requisite presentation of her feminine attire & demeanour. charlotte’s undergarments, as selected by The Governess, were always of the classic vintage variety. Cream or white in colour, and either of cotton or silk material, they included vest, chemise, hold-up or suspender stockings, corset and a pair of long bloomers or drawers buttoned at the sides and with a detachable rear flap for easy toileting or punishment access. Pivotal to the morning dressing ritual was the donning of The Petticoat of either lace, satin or taffeta material. charlotte was required to perform her first curtsey of the day to her Governess once she was dressed in her petticoat slip and, in the process, to hold the frilly edges of her Garment of Governance out wide with the tips of her index fingers and thumbs, while theatrically genuflecting very low with her head bowed down in a respectful gesture of humility and obedience to her Governess.
“Good morning, Governess. I am your sissy charlotte and I promise to be a truly obedient little sissy for you today”.
The quaint little ceremonial was completed with The Governess extending her right hand for the kneeling charlotte to kiss before proceeding to put on her dress which, for the morning Nursery regime, was usually her red sailor dress with traditional shoulder cape and complemented by a frilly pair of pink lace, turn-up ankle socks and black, patent leather shoes. As had been decreed by The Governess in charlotte’s first formal dressing as a newbie sissy girl, the white edges of her petticoat were well visible below her dress so that, at all times, others on viewing her would know the centrality of The Petticoat Rule in her new sissified life, while the long cut of her drawers coming to just below her petticoat hem augmented her already keenly-felt sense of shame and humiliation.
Breakfast consisted of a glass of cool milk, with a baby yogurt and followed by a bowl of lukewarm, lumpy porridge which sissy charlotte wholly detested. Having committed the unthinking error of saying just so to her Governess at their first breakfast meal together, she was assured of its continuing presence on the breakfast table every morning without fail thereafter! For the second day in a row, charlotte had made such a mess of her dress front and table cloth, due to having to use the plastic baby training bowl & cutlery, that The Governess opted to put a large terry bib around her neck and to lock her in to the high chair close to her own seat at the breakfast table, so that she could readily intervene when called for.
Whenever she felt that the sissy girl was not properly applying herself to the eating of her porridge, such as stirring it aimlessly around her plate or putting on a long face in disgust, The Governess would tie the naughty girl’s pandies behind her back, place a spreader between her legs and force-feed her the porridge in methodical, swift spoonfuls, making sure that any spillies on her mouth, bib or table-top were scooped right back up and promptly re-fed into sissy’s mouth which was opened by the Governess holding back the girl’s head and plugging her nose with her free hand.
On the fourth morning when naughty sissy charlotte again demonstrated her resistance, The Governess took the porridge, and adding copious amounts of milk to liquidise it, she poured the cold porridge into a large adult baby bottle up to three-quarters full. Then, in front of the stupefied sissy girl, The Governess lifted her skirt and petticoats, undid the ties of her bloomers and proceeded to fill the bottle up to the top with her own sweet nectar. Shaking up the liquid contents of the bottle, she then made charlotte down the acidy-tasting watery porridge in one single, prolonged mouthful, such that the shocked sissy girl thought she would choke in the seemingly unending effort it took to finally drain the bottle. As an additional punishment for her display of defiance at the breakfast table, The Governess decided to confiscate sissy charlotte’s drawers for the remainder of that day.
At nine o’clock sharp each morning, charlotte’s lessons began in the Nursery study room. In the clear vision of the Governess, the Nursery was as much a centre of early education as childcare, and particularly given her sissy’s lamentable academic performance in her previous existence in the School, the main activity for charlotte, while living within the confines of the Nursery, would be an age-appropriate re-education programme personally tutored by her and based on a structured schedule of three hours lesson work in the morning, Monday to Friday, followed by a two-hour afternoon and a three-hour Saturday morning study period by charlotte on her own for the completion of various homework assignments and course revision work.
The subjects of study for Charlotte’s re-education during the week included basic reading, writing and math (i.e. ABCs, 123s), as well as physical education (practice of sissy curtsies, posture & skipping), poetry (Nursery rhymes), music (Nursery songs), religion (the learning of baby prayers & hymns), art (silly pictures drawn with coloured crayons), domestic service (the completion of menial tasks assigned by The Governess so as to assist the good running order of the Nursery), introduction to studies of feminization (pictures only!) and social etiquette (the acquisition of good sissy manners and protocols while in the presence of The Governess & other dominant Ladies).
Despite some initial lack of willing engagement by sissy charlotte in her new re-education programme at the start of the week, The Governess was able to encourage her greatly in her efforts through the imposition of a variety of degrading personal humiliations, including ample periods of corner time, the writing of countless punishment lines, the wearing of the dunce’s canonical hat, the sitting on the punishment potty and, when necessary, the application of the Nursery strap or taws on the girl’s upright palms. The latter was a particularly effective incentive when administered in the “tennis-style” mode, with the supplicant sissy kneeling before her Governess as, with her legs spread apart, she raised the strap or taws high above her head to unleash a merciless punishment sentence of six strokes on her sissy's alternate hands – one set of six strokes for venial offences and up to six sets of six strokes for the most serious of misdemeanours in the Nursery study.
However, in her wisdom, The Governess had long recognized the truth of the old adage that all work and no play does Jacqueline make a rather dull Sissy! Accordingly, at noon, following a short rest interval when Governess Teacher and baby pupil enjoyed a glass of cool lemonade together (with charlotte, of course, drinking her refreshment from a pink plastic lidded-cup and through a pink straw), The Governess allowed her sissy charge to play with her toys for a half-hour or so in the play pen located in the centre of the Nursery play room. At this time every morning, charlotte was so delighted to be allowed the opportunity by her Governess to embrace her favourite soft toy, Toddy the Teddy Bear, as well as hugging close to her chest her dearest dollies three, Megan Beth & Sue. Other playtime activities for charlotte during this precious free time included her coloured books & crayons, the shaking of her numerous sissy baby rattles with their different sounds and The Governess joining her in the play pen to read to her classic Nursery tales spoken so beautifully in her rich and sensuous voice.
The final daily activity before the luncheon was sissy charlotte’s “cushion time”. The Nursery study room had a wide bay window which opened out onto The Governess’s garden which she tendered to so lovingly and painstakingly throughout the year. As the sun was at its highest point in the day, there was nothing more than The Governess loved than to sit in her comfortable armchair at the bay window, facing towards the garden and basking in the rays of sunshine, whilst reading one of the books of her favourite authors, Blyton or Dickens.
Before preparing to seat herself, The Governess would click her fingers for sissy charlotte to scamper, puppy-like, on her hands and knees along the floor across to the armchair where she sat with her back to the front of the chair and placed her head right back on to the seat cushion, making sure to lift up her dress, petticoat & drawers and to spread her legs wide apart with her thighs facing outwards. The Governess would make her subservient sissy girl stay there in this embarrassing position for some time until, eventually, she walked over to the armchair, placed her feet between charlotte's open legs and, hitching her skirt & petticoats high above her waist, would sit firmly down on her sissy’s cushion face before straightening out her skirts and taking up her book for a pleasant half-hour read. charlotte’s only senses were the sight of the dark interior world of his Governess’s underskirts and the taste of the rather coarse gusset of her cotton drawers as she pressed it over her nose and mouth.
“So! There you are enveloped under my skirts once again, sissy charlotte! At your peril will you dare move or speak without my permission, you naughty sissy girl!”
charlotte knew full well the consequences of her failure to follow The Governess’s command, since her instant response would be to raise her skirts to severely smack her exposed upper thighs until they were red raw with the pain of her affliction.
A Day In The Life of A Governess And Her Ward: Public and Private Retribution
Part 1: A Public Retribution
That morning after early lessons, Governess Taylor had instructed her young ward, Charles Lovell, to join her for the short journey to the nearby town in order to purchase “certain provisions” which she had in mind. She had dressed him in his thick corduroy short trousers, winter coat, and woolen scarf and gloves, as she did not wish him to catch a chill on that cold March day. The walk into town was pleasant, with Ms. Taylor making periodic conversation with Charles on the evident signs around them of the budding springtime. The charming local landscape on view had persuaded the Governess to inform Charles that she intended to devote their afternoon lesson together to an appreciation of nature through art, a prospect which met with the youth’s approval and gratification. As was usually expected of him on such occasions, Charles walked slightly behind his Governess, while she led him by the hand, albeit struggling somewhat to keep up with her determined pace.
On entering the main street of the town, Ms. Taylor had Charles wait outside the chemist shop while she purchased some items of a personal nature. After completing these purchases, she led the boy next door into the small clothing shop. The shop’s owner, a Ms. Johnson, was well known to Charles, as his Governess had on previous occasions ordered his clothes from her. She was an elegant, neat woman of middle years and a seamstress of renowned skill who was expert on advising Ms. Taylor on suitable clothing for her slim-built, but growing, ward. After a private exchange of words between the two women, the seamstress proceeded to size her measuring tape around Charles’s waist and along the length of his upper leg calf.
“Yes, Ms. Taylor, I believe the satin short trousers will be just right for those special occasions you mentioned. I will have the three pairs made up in the colors which you requested. I will deliver them to your cottage later this afternoon - along with the boy’s six pairs of lace underwear”, said Ms. Johnson. Charles was wholly mortified to hear these words from the seamstress; after all, he had secretly hoped that his Governess would progress him to wearing long trousers given his age, but it was the reference to the lace underwear that had unnerved him the most. He caught the eye of Ms. Taylor with a beseeching look, but she treated him with complete indifference. Charles felt humiliated by this incident and was visibly upset as he left the seamstress’ shop with his Governess. However, he was too stunned to think of questioning Ms. Taylor about her purchases. She, for her part, was far too experienced not to detect his obvious surliness, but had decided to herself that she would resolve the matter later at an appropriate time and in the appropriate manner.
Further along the main street, at the corner, was a large haberdashery shop run by a
Mr. Thompson. Charles had never been to this particular shop before, but he noticed that Ms. Taylor was quite at ease in the shop’s surroundings and had immediately entered into easy conversation with the owner, indicating to Charles that the two adults were acquaintances. Charles was instructed by his Governess to sit quietly on the bench in the shop corner until she had completed her transactions. A number of other customers, principally women, were also present in the shop at this time of the mid-morning.
After a few moments conversation with Ms. Taylor, Mr. Thompson went out to the rear of his shop where Charles surmised he kept his supplies. The Governess continued facing towards the counter away from Charles. He noticed that she had taken off her doe-skinned gloves while waiting for Mr. Thompson to return. He was yet again, as on numerous other public occasions together, struck by the singular beauty and graceful deportment of his Governess. After what seemed like an interminable period of time to Charles, Mr. Thompson eventually appeared with a long, thin box wrapped in brown covering paper with postage marks on the front. He began to unwrap the paper for his elegant female customer. The box was of plain white cardboard material and sealed with a lid which Mr. Thompson removed before proceeding to take out a series of objects wrapped in very fine crease paper.
Ms. Taylor carefully unfolded the crease paper to view the first of the implements which she had ordered from Mr. Thompson the month previously. Instantly, Charles was filled with horror as he saw his Governess lovingly fondle a new black strap of some eighteen inches length and approximately two inches depth. Ms. Taylor momentarily glanced over her shoulder to catch Charles’s look of total disbelief.
However, worse was soon to follow for the boy as the Governess slowly unwrapped the crease paper from a second object to reveal a wide, round, perforated paddle with a wooden handle. She moved the wicked looking implement close to her face, so as to more intimately take in the pungent aroma of its fresh leather. Next, his Governess unfolded a short, soft leather strap of a type which Charles had seen only once before in his childhood years and knew to be called a ‘spanker’. By now, he was totally fearful and demoralized at the sight of these awesome implements of punishment.
Just when he thought the horrendous transactions were completed, Mr. Thompson came from the back room with a set of three rattan, hooked canes of varying lengths, each one wrapped in a fresh blue ribbon. At this fearsome sight, Charles almost wet himself with absolute shock and terror. He looked on uncomprehending as his Governess took the longest of the rattan canes in her hands, which was called a dragon cane, undid the ribbon, flexed the cane for its pliability and then dramatically whooshed it through the air a number of times in front of the shop’s amazed customers.
Charles, his pent up emotion and tension of the morning finally boiling over, lost total control of himself and screamed at Ms. Taylor: “Why are you buying those horrid implements, Governess? You have no right to! I do not deserve to have these punishment materials bought for me. I cannot allow it… I will not allow it…it is simply not fair! Please! I beg you, Ms. Taylor. Please!!”
Without further ado, Ms. Taylor, her face visibly crimson with anger, marched over to where Charles was sitting on the bench, raised the boy’s chin with her left hand to ensure his face was raised towards her and, without any warning, crashed in two vicious slaps across his open cheek with her right hand which almost spun her ward’s head around on his shoulders with the sheer force of their execution. Reeling in total shock from his Governess’s calculated assault, Charles was now reduced to the helpless state which she required for her next move.
Forcing Charles by the arm upright to his feet and, seating herself in an erect fashion on the bench, Ms. Taylor quickly turned the boy over her knees before he had even realized what was happening to him. She lifted his coat right over his back, so that it almost covered his head, and expertly undid his trouser buttons before lowering the trousers around his ankles. Then, showing scant regard for her ward’s little remaining modesty and dignity, she yanked his cotton white underpants to his knees, before commencing to administer a thoroughly sound spanking to his exposed bare bottom. The only sounds to be heard in the entire shop were those of the rapid and methodical hand strokes of the irate Ms. Taylor on Charles’s increasingly reddening posterior. This was matched by the youth’s initial whimpering cries followed, as the ferocity of the spanking increased, by his entreaties for clemency and forgiveness, which proved utterly futile in the face of his resolute Governess.
When Ms. Taylor had finally decided to bring the errant youth’s public chastisement to an end (which for Charles had seemed like an eternity), she quickly re-dressed him and forcibly led him by the hand to the counter. After arranging payment to Mr. Thompson for the implements, she instructed that they be delivered to the cottage as soon as possible that very afternoon. As the still visibly angry Ms. Taylor left the shop with her shamed ward in toe, it was apparent to the bemused, but impressed, female customers that the Governess’s purchases would soon be put to very good use indeed!
Emerging from the haberdashery shop, Charles was conscious that his silent, but determined, Governess was leading him by the hand in another direction home from whence they came earlier that morning. Turning left at the top of the town square,
Ms. Taylor and her ward entered the small park which contained a recently-opened playground area that was proving a very popular attraction with the town’s residents. The playground was full of mothers with their children, as well as a class of children from the local school under the supervision of their female teacher.
In the centre of the playground, amidst the array of sand pits, swings and climbing castles, was an elevated stand of n vintage from which the town brass band played every Sunday morning. With obvious intent, Ms. Taylor walked through the crowded play area and brought Charles to the very front of the band platform. Without further delay, and in a raised voice which attracted the attention of those adults and children adjacent, she began to severely admonish the youth for his previous aberrant behaviour.
“How dare you misbehave in such an insolent and disobedient fashion in the haberdashery shop, Charles. Nor should you think that your surly attitude in the clothes shop went unnoticed. You have been an extremely naughty boy! Do you hear me? You have disgraced yourself and deserve to be treated accordingly as the wicked young man you are!”
With that, Ms. Taylor, having quickly captured the attention of everyone with this very public reprimand of her ward, turned the boy fully around so that his back was facing the onlookers. She then bent over purposefully, pinning her left arm firmly around Charles’s waist so that he was unable to move and, pulling the seat of his trousers upwards to expose as much of the back of his smooth, white legs as possible, she proceeded to apply her gloved right hand in a series of high-arched, strong, smart smacks to each of his bare legs in succession.
“You have been a very (SMACK) naughty (SMACK) boy (SMACK). Just wait (SMACK) until I get (SMACK) you home (SMACK). I will teach (SMACK) you a lesson (SMACK) that you will never (SMACK) forget (SMACK), my boy. You are to be punished (SMACK) severely (SMACK), Charles. Do (SMACK) you (SMACK) understand (SMACK)? You are a naughty (SMACK), naughty (SMACK) boy! You will come home (SMACK) with me this very (SMACK) instant (SMACK), Charles. Do you hear (SMACK)? Come along (SMACK) and don’t you dare (SMACK) dally (SMACK), my boy!”
Charles went puce with the sheer embarrassment of his Governess’s second public chastisement. He was so choked with shame that he was unable to cry out from the stinging pain he felt in his legs. However, the copious tears, now so uncontrollably flowing down Charles’s cheeks, were ample proof to everyone watching how thoroughly pitiful was the plight of this recalcitrant youth who was so evidently under the absolute authority of his strict and unremitting Governess.
Leading him by the hand through the thronged crowd and out of the playground gate,
Ms. Taylor marched her young ward along the road home to the cottage without a single word being said by her. Finally, as they rounded the last bend in the road to see the cottage appear before them, she abruptly took the bewildered boy by his left ear-lobe, already having clearly mapped out in her mind during the journey home the precise programme of painful punishments and exquisite humiliations she intended to inflict on him. As they came through the wooden garden gate of the cottage, there on the doorstep were two neatly wrapped parcels that Charles warily surmised were the purchased goods of his Governess which, as earlier arranged, had been delivered by Ms. Johnson and Mr. Thompson.
As the door of the cottage was opened by the Governess, Charles remorsefully concluded, if he was already in any doubt, that the lesson which Ms. Taylor had planned for him earlier that fateful morning would be very, very different to the one he was now about to receive!***
Part 2: A Private Retribution
After abruptly divesting her ward of his coat in the hallway, the Governess ordered the youth to his room with instruction to shower, change into his regular school uniform and report promptly to the study room on hearing the bell. In great trepidation, Charles climbed the stairs to his room and, after washing, quickly changed into his uniform, making sure that he put on a clean white vest, underpants and knee-length socks, as was the standard requirement of Ms. Taylor in preparation for any impending punishment. It seemed that an awfully long period of time had elapsed before the bell was rung, thus providing Charles with ample opportunity to reflect on the day’s sorry events and their imminent consequences for him.
With the sudden sound of the bell, the youth was jolted out of his reflections and quickly left his room, descended the stairs and nervously knocked three times on the wooden door of the study room. After a suitable interval, he heard the voice of his Governess summon him to enter. Ms. Taylor was seated upright at her desk, having herself bathed and changed into fresh clothing. Charles noted with admiration her carefully selected attire of immaculate French white blouse with its high starched collar and puffed sleeves, pencil thin, knee-length black skirt, flesh-colored, back-seamed stockings and high-heeled black shoes – a truly imperious look that was completed by her neat neck choker, thin spectacles and her fine chestnut hair brought up in a tight bun.
“Come here this instant, you naught boy, and kneel beside me as I write”, ordered the Governess. Charles did so immediately and noticed that Ms. Taylor was filling out the Misdemeanor and Punishment Log Book she habitually maintained as part of his training and discipline regime, no doubt in respect of the various offences he had committed that day. As she carefully applied her beautiful hand script to the braid covered Log Book, the youth, still kneeling abjectly in silence, cautiously cast his eye across to the right hand column of the page which he knew, from previous experience, was for detailing the due punishments decreed for his misconduct. With a growing sense of dread, Charles noted that his Governess seemed to be compiling a long list of punishments which, frustratingly, because of his poor eyesight, he was unable to read.
Finally, Ms. Taylor rose from her seat and stood over the still-kneeling youth. “I have no need to remind you, Charles, of your absolutely despicable and disgusting behaviour this morning in the clothing and haberdashery shops in the town. You disgraced yourself and me, your Governess, in front of everyone. For this, you are to be severely punished.” Then reading aloud from the Log Book, Ms. Taylor stated in a clear and formal voice:
“We shall commence with a 6 x 6 hand-strapping and then proceed to an over-the-knee gloved hand-spanking on your bare bottom which will be followed by another OTK session with the new spanker. After this, we will return to another 6 x 6 hand-strapping, this time tennis-style and using the new long leather strap which Mr. Thompson has also conveniently delivered. You will then be mounted on the horse for a 6 x 4 session of the new senior cane, young man, which I know you greatly fear. Finally, your punishment will be concluded with a sound birching!” Charles was utterly devastated on hearing this cruel declaration of his Governess and his head sunk dejectedly into his chest in resignation of his fate.
Ms. Taylor instructed Charles to stand facing into the corner of the study room with his hands on top of his head, as she busily went about her preparations. The sound of the Governess’ heels on the old oak timber floor as she moved about seemed to greatly add to the intensity of the occasion for the lad.
Finally, he heard Ms. Taylor summon him over to her as she stood by the study desk and ordered him to kneel before her. (He was a rather tall youth for his age, with his Governess being somewhat smaller in stature). She then lifted the desk drawer to take out her well-worn, brown leather strap which had twin-split ends. Firmly taking hold of his right wrist, she ordered him to keep his arm out straight, raise his hand high and count each stroke while thanking her. The sound of the first stroke filled the room in a loud echo as the strap cracked down fiercely on his open palm. Charles almost forgot to count the stroke and to thank his Governess – a failure to do so which he knew to his cost would result in extras! After the sixth crushing stroke, Ms. Taylor paused briefly, as was her practice, to come down to the boy’s level, to rub his hair and to let him kiss either her hand or the implement of his punishment, almost in a loving maternal mode.
Thus it was for the five remaining sets of six strokes (three sets on each hand in total), after which Charles slumped back onto his heels, holding his burning hands under his armpits and seeking in vain some modicum of comfort. He was then instructed to stand again in the corner, this time with his hands opened out before him so that he could see the reddened palms, as well as feel their lingering pain.
Ms. Taylor’s desk and chair were placed on a raised dais in the study room which seemed to give a heightened elevation to her natural authority. The Governess pulled the chair well clear of the desk and seated herself upright, while carefully adjusting her skirt. She then extracted from her skirt pocket, her two dove-skinned gloves into which she neatly enwrapped her fingers. Ordering the boy to come to her, she slowly undid his belt and lowered his short, flaxen, grey trousers to his ankles. Suggestively hitching her skirt to reveal her glorious mid-thighs, Ms. Taylor looked deep into Charles’s eyes for what seemed a long period of time and then uttered the refrain with which he was all too familiar from similar occasions in the past: “Assume the position, boy!”
The feel of being put over his Governess’s knees for a spanking was one of the most cherished and exquisite moments for Charles in his punishment regime – not least because of the sensuous experience of coming into almost direct contact with his Governess’s suspender belts which he knew she was very fond of wearing under precisely these circumstances. After ensuring the boy was settled, she lifted the tail of his shirt over his back and slowly raised the elastic of his underpants for a number of seconds before yanking them down to her favored preliminary mid-thigh position. She then carefully massaged his bottom cheeks for a period which had the effect of lulling the boy into a false sense of security. This was suddenly shattered with the first sharp smack of her raised gloved-hand hitting his bottom cheek, each one alternated in a rhythmical volley of blows which were executed in a rapid fashion and without any hesitation or mercy shown.
Although the lad strove to show his manliness by staying silent for the first minute or so, his resolve quickly weakened and he began to blubber. This was the signal for Ms. Taylor to again yank his underpants – this time to his knees. As the blows descended, Charles’s legs started to lift from the floor and to flay about. To restrict the movement of the boy’s legs, the experienced Ms. Taylor pulled his underpants to their ultimate position around his ankles. After a number of minutes had passed, the Governess finally heard her ward beginning to cry, but she knew well from experience not to be deflected from her task since Charles was want to precipitate sobbing in the hope of an early termination of his spanking. Ms. Taylor ruthlessly continued to spank him through his tears until, finally, she was convinced that his crying was in earnest and she ceased the first phase of her spanking and removed her gloves. Charles was allowed to fall onto his knees, rubbing his bottom, while his Governess hugged him and kissed away his tears in a touching gesture of love for her ward.
Without emotion, however, Ms. Taylor suddenly rose from her seat and went over to where the parcel was on the study table to reveal the small, but sturdy new ‘spanker’ and, then re-seating herself, she instructed Charles to once again come over her lap. This time, not needing any preparations, she methodically applied the spanker to the lad’s bare bottom, delivering the strokes in a slow but deliberate fashion, totaling 40 in number, after which Charles rolled off his Governess’s knees in a huddle, clutching his raw buttocks with his hands. Helping the boy to his feet, Ms. Taylor then put him sitting on her lap like a small child, and caressing his warmed bottom and endowing him with her hugs and kisses, she gently reassured him of her enduring love despite her need to have to discipline him severely.
The Governess then made him stand upright and helped him quickly walk over to the corner, shaming him further by forcing him to do a “trouser-shuffle” as he went. Despite Ms. Taylor’s support, Charles could not help but stumble over himself, with his trousers and underpants tugged down around his ankles as he walked. In facing him towards the wall, the Governess ensured that his shirt tail was tied up behind his back, thereby exposing his well-spanked bottom for her inspection and pleasure.
By this stage, Charles’s breathing was rather labored and irregular, so his Governess left him for some time on his own in the corner to repose himself, while she sat at her study desk. After five minutes or so, Ms. Taylor rose and went over to the parcel and, unwrapping the fine crease paper, took out the brand new 18” black leather strap from the box. She admired its texture and sheen, as she lovingly caressed the instrument across her open palm.
The Governess had decided to herself that the punishment regime was now moving into a more formal phase and, instructing Charles to turn around and face her, she donned her black gown and mortar in a highly ritualised gesture. She then stood in the middle of the dais and spread her legs apart to give her better balance for the tennis-style hand-strapping of her ward which was to follow. In truth, this was one of the Governess’s favorite postures, as it reinforced in her a feeling of complete authority, not only in her stated position, but also in its physical manifestation.
Calmly, she ordered Charles to pull up his underpants and trousers and to come over and kneel before her with his right hand held out upright before him and supported underneath by his left hand. She stood back in a measured fashion from the kneeling boy, while maintaing her open-legged posture. Then, menacingly, she raised the new strap in her right hand as high as possible above her head, while holding its tip with the fingers of her free left hand. She maintained this poise for a number of seconds, ensuring that she caught the boy’s frightened look in his eyes, as he waited in trepidation for the springing of the first stroke. For Charles, this Governess was truly an awesome sight of power and control! When the stroke was unleashed, he almost buckled over with the excruciating pain, but was immediately pulled out of his self-absorption with the command: “Change hands, you disgusting boy! And as you did not count the stroke or thank me for it, we shall start again”.
After the first set of six strokes in this dramatic style, when Charles was convulsed in terrible pain, his Governess came over to him to offer her customary maternal gestures of hugs and kisses. After a short period of respite, Ms. Taylor returned to her position and again raised her strap high to commence the second set of six strokes….and so it continued until the final sixth set was delivered, by which time Charles was utterly incapable of saying a solitary word due to his singularly distressed state. After this ferocious strapping, Ms. Taylor was especially mindful to provide the poor boy with a final comforting session which included taking him close to her breasts and allowing him to fully exhaust what was left of his tears.
Charles had to be physically assisted by his Governess to the corner where she decided it would be best to leave him for fifteen minutes to recover on his own. Before doing so, however, she extracted from the study cupboard a small nursery blackboard, complete with golden thread which she used to hang the blackboard around the boy’s neck. Written on the board, to Charles’s great consternation and humiliation, were the ominous words: “TO BE CANED AND BIRCHED!” The Governess was inwardly very pleased with this rather theatrical gesture which she felt heightened further the pathos of the overall punishment scenario that was so obviously under her complete control and manipulation.
Then, thoughtfully, Ms. Taylor placed a glass of chilled water beside Charles which she gave him permission to drink and left the study for some light refreshments in the kitchen. As she sat at the kitchen table drinking a welcome glass of milk, Ms. Taylor felt a profound sense of satisfaction with the execution of her punishment regime and the beneficial effect she was sure it was having on her young ward. She calmly composed herself, carefully thinking through her strategy for the final punishment phase of the cane and the birch. She was all too aware that Charles had a dreaded fear of the cane and for this reason, she had used it sparingly on the boy to date, but it was now time to bring the lad to a new level of experience with this king of instruments. As for the birch, the Governess had never applied it to her ward before, but she was very clear in her mind on the new stage of his discipline and training regime which she would introduce to ensure his complete subordination to her absolute will and authority.
On returning to the study, she found Charles standing in the corner slightly calmer, although she noted that he continued to sob from time to time. Taking out the new hooked senior cane from the parcel, she went over to the boy, ordered him to extend his palms open and then laid the cane flat across them for him to contemplate on. Going to the far corner of the room, she then wheeled over the wooden horse with its soft leather covering to the centre of the room, making sure that it faced the central wall mirror which was almost from floor to ceiling in height.
Standing by the horse, she summoned Charles to bring the cane to her. Taking off his neck board, she then removed his trousers totally, as they would serve no useful purpose whatsoever for what was to come. Flexing the new dreaded cane in her hands, she then proceeded to lecture the boy in a severe voice as to his aberrant behaviour in the town that morning and decreeing that he was to receive 24 strokes of the cane. This, Ms. Taylor knew, was the highest number of caning strokes Charles had received from her and she noted the utter look of terror in the boy’s pale face on hearing his punishment sentence. Without further ado, she ordered the boy onto the horse, facing him lengthways along it, and strapping him down by the hands, waist and legs, certain in the knowledge that such restraints would be necessary. She then came behind him to slowly remove his underpants to his knees.
Taking up the cane in her right hand, she walked to the front of the horse and, holding out the instrument before him at eye level, she instructed her ward to kiss the implement of his punishment along its full length from handle to tip. She then walked back behind him, measured the distance for her swing and proceeded to execute a number of air shots with the cane whose whistled sounds completely undermined whatever little resolve the boy had left. As was the norm, Ms, Taylor ordered Charles to count the strokes and to thank her. After a few preliminary taps of the cane on the centre area of his raised bottom, the frightened boy was moved to clench his buttocks in protection, but was reproached angrily by Ms. Taylor that to do so would earn two extra strokes for each clenching incident.
Ms. Taylor released the first stroke of her cane, carefully aimed at his lower bottom area which had the effect of making Charles almost jump out of his restraints with the shock. She continued to play out the first set of six strokes, aiming the remaining five around his centre bottom area. On completion of the first set, the Governess walked to the blackboard and chalked up a notch. By the completion of the second set, Charles was verbally articulating his resistance, but Ms. Taylor ignored him as she chalked up the second notch on the blackboard.
With the third set, the Governess decided to take over responsibility for the counting due to her ward’s obvious distress, but still requiring him to thank her. By its end, Charles was begging for mercy from his Governess, but to no avail. After marking the third notch, she did remember to take a short period of time to take his, by now, sweaty hair out of his eyes and to kiss him tenderly on his cheeks, exhorting him that the application of the cane was for his own good and how it pained her to have to use it on him, but it that it was her moral duty as his Governess to correct his misbehavior. Intermittently, the Governess had, between strokes over the first three sets, bent over and seductively blown her cool breath over the area of Charles’s chastened posterior which had a peculiarly soothing and erotic effect on the boy. However, Ms. Taylor decided to administer the final set with added ferocity in order to bring the boy to the culmination of his pain and humiliation. Charles was wholly broken by this last fierce assault.
Having completed the final notch of four on the blackboard, she again held the cane out front for her ward to pay homage to the instrument of his punishment with his kisses and tears. Before releasing Charles from his restraints, Ms. Taylor spent some time rubbing his afflicted bottom gently with her hands, including the inside of his upper thighs. This had a steadily calming effect on the boy, helping him slowly to come down from the height of the physical threshold of his pain. On restoring his self-composure, Charles was led by his Governess once again to the corner of the study room.
The Governess had decided at her kitchen repast that the final birching session with her ward should be executed in tandem with the initiation of his new sissification regime. She had previously placed a long stout birch in a bucket of brine in the study cupboard. Ms. Taylor left the study to fetch a girl’s navy pinafore uniform which she had especially purchased some weeks back for just such a scenario, along with a brunette wig from her wardrobe. On re-entering the study, she opened the parcel from Ms. Johnson and picked out one of the new pair of frilly white knickers. Seating herself on the study chair, she ordered Charles to come to her and quickly detrussed him of his trousers and underpants.
Without speaking a word, the Governess then made the boy step into the frilly knickers, the sight of which mortified him with feelings of utter shame and humiliation. She completed his sissisfication with the putting on of the girl’s pinafore, the skirt of which came just below his knees, and with the placing of the wig which was a perfect fit and color for his complexion. Ms. Taylor instructed “Charlotte” to walk up and down in front of her, so that she could more easily observe his posture and gait. She also ordered him to courtesy to her which he did with surprising finesse. The Governess was quietly pleased at how graceful a figure Charlotte presented in his charming apparel. She was convinced that, under her own expert guidance, he could be formed into a very pretty satin sissy boy indeed.
The Governess was now completely focused on the final stage of Charlotte’s punishment. As this was to be the boy’s first experience of the birch, she opted for a maternal rather than judicial-style birching, and so removed her gown and mortar. Ms. Taylor rose from her chair and ordered Charlotte to kneel on the left side of the seat of his school desk, whereupon she pulled up his skirt and tucked it in high about his waist. Again, she had ensured that the school desk was facing the centre wall mirror so that Charlotte and she would have an enhanced view of what was soon to unfold. On the count of three, the Governess instructed the apprehensive boy to bend forward right over his desk. Standing behind him, she proceeded to delicately pull his frillies down to his knees.
Ms. Taylor then went to the cupboard to fetch the ripened birch, making sure, as always, that her determined footsteps on the wooden floor heightened the overall sense of expectancy and tension for Charlotte. The boy’s eyes opened wide in disbelief on seeing the ferocity of this next and final instrument of his punishment at the hands of his stern Governess.
Moving front on to the right side of the desk, Ms. Taylor placed her left arm right under Charlotte’s waist so as to ensure that his bottom was poised high at the very best possible angle for the application of the birch, almost lifting his knees off the desk seat in the process. Then, spreading her legs astride to maximize her balance, the Governess raised the birch high above her head in readiness. This awesome image of his Governess in dramatic punishment mode, as reflected in the mirror before him, was for ever etched in the boy’s mind. For her part, the Governess had a policy of never determining in advance the number of strokes to be applied in the case of the birch, since truly this was a classic instrument which was best wholly spent until its natural character and texture had physically deteriorated beyond the point of effective use by the impact of the brutal beating to be administered.
It was then that Charles / Charlotte heard the dreaded annunciation: “Prepare yourself for the birch, you wicked boy!”Julia smiled to herself as she walked down the road towards her house.
