Edith's New Governess ..............



   While Miss Flora Field listened attentively, her prospective new employer, Mrs. Fogarty, outlined the wretched state of affairs regarding Mrs. Fogarty's  young daughter, Edith. The mild, sweet-tempered young mother hadn't the will to stand up to her headstrong child, and the child's elderly nanny hadn't the strength to master little Mistress Fogarty either, but Mrs. Fogarty could not consider dismissing the woman, who had faithfully cared for three generations of Fogarty children, and who had nowhere else to go.

    Her husband, Reginald Fogarty, a Member of Parliament, was often away in London, and furthermore deemed child rearing the proper province of the fairer sex, not of men. And Edith had her Papa wrapped around her little finger, besides. She was his adored pet during his infrequent visits, and he absolutely would not hear of the idea of disciplining her himself. In response to his wife's entreaties he had, however reluctantly, consented to the employment of a suitably strict governess. Flora Field was a striking beauty. Her graceful neck rose from the high lace collar of her full-sleeved cream-coloured blouse, and her finely featured face was crowned by the soft tresses of her raven black hair tied up elegantly above. Her posture and air of refinement belied her humble post, and bespoke the class and quality of her upbringing.

    "You need look no further, Mrs. Fogarty," said Flora, with relaxed confidence. She then explained how she had been orphaned at an early age and raised in the country house of a wealthy aunt and uncle in Yorkshire. As she grew into her teen years, she'd helped repay their generosity by administering her younger cousins' lessons, and, on occasion, administering discipline as well. Mrs. Fogarty glanced again at Flora's letters of referral.

    "Yes, Miss Field, you come most highly recommended by Miss Windgate at the agency, and you acquitted yourself admirably at university. But this is your first assignment and I fear it shan't be an easy one. Are you quite certain you can-"

    Flora stopped Mrs. Fogarty with a self-assured wave of her hand. "I crave only the opportunity to demonstrate my competence, Madame. I can assure you that I am well prepared, both in the area of child instruction, and in the area of child management."

    "Well then," Mrs. Fogarty sighed, "I suppose I shall give you the opportunity you desire."  She added, "The position is yours, Miss Field. Still, it would be scarcely prudent of me not to emphasise again that my Edith is an uncommonly willful little girl. Her nanny and I find her most ungovernable, I confess."

    Flora smiled. "I shall soon vindicate your trust in me, Mrs. Fogarty."

    The following afternoon, Mrs. Fogarty helped Flora settle in to the most spacious and well illuminated room of the servant's quarters, as befitted her station. She then lead Flora to the schoolroom, and after familiarising her with the family's collection of books, maps and other educational aids, promised to go find Edith and send her up straight away. Flora assured the young mother that she had no cause for concern should she hear any commotion issuing from the schoolroom in the next hour or so, and requested that Flora and her new pupil be left undisturbed that afternoon to acclimate to one another. After Mrs. Fogarty had taken her leave, Flora removed a tightly fitting doeskin glove from her bag, and with a knowing smile, slipped the dainty garment onto her right hand.

    Before long, light boot steps echoed in the stairwell and then along the hallway.  All at once, a pretty little girl of nine summers, with large blue eyes and chestnut brown hair tied back in a red satin bow, appeared in the open schoolroom doorway. Clearly a child of wealth and privilege, she was clad in a crimson frock of the finest satin daintily embroidered with floral designs and generously trimmed with delicate white lace. Flora found it difficult to imagine that such a well favored and comely child could be quite the incorrigible miscreant her mother claimed.  With her innocent-looking round face and small upturned nose, she seemed more the elf than the demon. Still, Flora didn't fail to note a hint of sullenness and obstinacy in the pout of the child's lower lip. Flora beckoned the youngster inside and she entered, regarding Flora with unconcealed suspicion.

    "Hello, you must be Edith," Flora said with a smile as she closed the door. "My name is Miss Field and I'm to be your new governess."

    The little girl met her eyes coldly, making no move to curtsy. "How long before you are my last governess?" she asked, with an unmistakable undertone of insolence.

    Flora continued to smile sweetly, electing to disregard, just this once, the child's tone and her failure to curtsy. (Perhaps the ill-raised creature never learned to curtsy??)  "As long as it takes to instruct you properly, Mistress Fogarty. Now, are you ready to begin your first lesson?"

    Edith tossed her pretty head and laughed haughtily. "I should rather instruct you to go away at once and never come back! I shall take no lessons from you, you old witch!" Flora was quite startled at this gross impertinence, despite Mrs. Fogarty's warnings. Truly this child had the countenance of an angel, but the impudence of an imp!

    "Young lady, your rudeness is unconscionable!" admonished Flora, sternly, "It appears our first lesson shall be one of discipline and proper deportment. As your governess I am resolved to correct you at once!" Flora quickly stepped forward and seized the little girl by the wrist before she could flee.

    "Let me go you beastly woman!" commanded Edith indignantly, trying vainly to pry Flora's gloved hand from around her wrist, "Release me at once!" Paying no heed, Flora resolutely led the struggling Edith across the room to the window seat.  There she sat down and with one smooth movement, pulled Edith over her left knee while securing the child's legs with her right. Edith screamed in outrage as she divined Flora's intentions. "You daren't whip me!" she shouted, glaring over her shoulder at her tormentor. "You daren't! I shall tell Papa!" Flora merely secured both of the little girl's wrists firmly with her left hand while gathering up the bright red skirt of Edith's frock with her right.

    "Miss Fogarty, you'd be well advised never to take that tone with me again!" she said, as she swept up the skirt of Edith's garment well above her small waist, and then lifted each of her fluffy white petticoats in like fashion, depositing them in a heap across her back. The outline of Edith's small, shapely rump, snugly encased within lace-trimmed linen bloomers, was now plain to Flora's approving eye; turned up across the woman's knee stood the soft, girlish fundaments ideally positioned for the long overdue chastisement they would shortly receive. 

     As Flora felt around the side of Edith's waist for a button, she added, "Your father gave leave to employ me. Your mother gave leave to correct you as I deem necessary. And I deem you a thoroughly naughty girl for whom correction is a most urgent necessity!" She located the button, unfastened it, and began to tug down Edith's bloomers, first on one side then on the other, while redoubling her tight hold on the struggling child. This latter precaution was wise, as Edith's attempts at escape quickly intensified while she felt the fabric of her undergarment slipping back across her buttocks down to her thighs, leaving the infuriated little girl's bare nates fully exposed to the cool air of the schoolroom. Flora then rested the palm of her gloved right hand on the smooth swellings of Edith's round, dimpled bottom, and waited.

    With mounting desperation, amid cries of outraged dignity, and predictions of dire retribution by her Papa, the little girl strove to wriggle off of Miss Field's lap altogether, or at least, to twist herself over onto her back thereby removing her vulnerable hindparts from Discipline's way - but to no avail. Miss Field held Edith firmly in place. All the while, the touch of her governess' warm, gloved palm on Edith's cool, bare skin served as a continual and demoralizing reminder that her nether cheeks remained in precisely the position Flora wanted, despite Edith's most strenuous efforts to the contrary. For her part, Flora was pleased to observe that while little Miss Fogarty's compactly rounded bottom was plump enough to receive the soundest spankings Flora might ever wish to give,  it was also ideally proportioned for Flora's open hand. As Edith grunted and squirmed against Flora's grip, the governess regarded with pleasure how easily she could cup the two rounded little hemispheres with her hand, covering most of the surfaces of both buttocks. Ere Edith grew up a bit more, there would be no need for Flora to alternate smacks from one cheek to the other when disciplining the child. Until then, whenever she'd have occasion to bare Edith's little bottom for chastisement, Flora could aim each of her slaps at the same spot as the previous one, thereby maximizing the salutary effect of the procedure.

    Exhausted, Edith abandoned her struggle in despair, realizing that she could never overcome Miss Field's strong grip. She drummed her boot tips on the floor in frustration at her parlous predicament and at the ignominy of so suddenly finding her most intimate regions unceremoniously laid bare by this wretched stranger. But she remained silent, petulantly refusing to beg her governess for pardon, resolving instead to endure unflinchingly whatever fate awaited her across Miss Field's knee. Later, when she was once again at liberty, Edith would somehow obtain revenge on Miss Field for this unpardonable indignity!

    When Flora was certain that her pupil had ceased to struggle, she exclaimed, "Now, Edith, I am going to give you a richly-deserved chastening. After you have been smacked, you shall stand in the corner for a quarter of an hour to ponder the fault for which you have been punished and to resolve to forever avoid this fault when addressing me in the future. During this time, you are forbidden to rub... to rub your lower back. Do I make myself clear?"

    Edith glowered over her shoulder at Miss Field and didn't reply. She intended to keep a stiff upper lip during her punishment. Mama and Papa never spanked her, of course, but she already knew that a spanking was something she could easily endure, on account of the uncommon occasions when Nanny was able to catch her and administer a few feeble smacks over Edith's clothing with her weathered, arthritic hand. Flora raised her supple young palm high and delivered a resounding smack to the girl's undraped backside. The astonished child gasped and stiffened as she fought the impulse to cry out. "When I ask you a question I expect a prompt and courteous response. Is that understood?" snapped Flora. All that Edith understood at that instant, was that her governess spanked much harder than Nanny ever could - indeed, harder than she had imagined anyone could! Edith could feel the precise spot where Flora's horrid palm had so cruelly smacked her poor, tender flesh. It smarted most urgently, wordlessly crying out to be rubbed. But this was, of course, quite impossible for little Edith to accomplish, much as she longed to heed the call of her burning nates. Perhaps, she thought, as chilly fingers of fear suddenly began to caress her heart for the first time since she had entered the room, I oughtn't to make Miss Field any more cross with me!

    "Yes," Edith belatedly muttered aloud, as she tried her best to hide her discomfort and her sudden fear of the disciplinary measures Flora would soon administer. Impulsively, she clenched and unclenched her buttocks in a vain attempt make the sting subside.

    Flora noted with satisfaction the flinching of Edith's hindparts, which belied the child's outward pretense of indifference; she noted as well the faint pink outline of her own open hand beginning to appear across Edith's milky-white cheeks. Again she raised her palm, took a deep breath, and gave the little girl's buttocks another equally hard,  smack on the exact same spot. "Yes, what?" she demanded severely.

    "Yes... Miss Field," Edith gasped, her eyes tightly shut. How could so pretty and feminine a hand as Miss Field's sting so wretchedly?! Edith's awareness had abruptly narrowed. The world, her house, and the room she occupied were gone. At the periphery of her consciousness, she vaguely sensed the firm tightness of Flora's hand gripping her wrists, the fabric of the window seat cushion pressing against her face, the rumpled fabric of her bloomers bunched up around her upper thighs, and the tight embrace of Flora's right leg keeping Edith's little legs immobile.  But overwhelming the arena of her mind's eye was a hand-shaped area covering the middle and lower portions her buttocks, which throbbed with stinging discomfort, and which poor Edith was quite helpless to soothe.

    "Thank you, Edith," replied Flora with satisfaction, "You have learned to address me properly. Our first lesson together is going well. For your next lesson, you shall learn the price of rudeness and insolence to your governess." Without another word, she began to chastise her young charge in earnest, slapping the twin mounds of tender flesh with confident aplomb. The doeskin glove Flora wore made no difference in the sensations Edith experienced as the brisk, hard slaps rained down on her sensitive bare skin; but it would permit Flora to continue Edith's punishment as long as necessary without a sore palm forcing a premature halt to the proceedings. As she smacked her young pupil's captive buttocks, Flora took care to aim well so as to make every spank count. So her full attention remained focused on the soft, gently rounded hemispheres of Edith's posterior, at first so pale and cool, but now warm to the touch and beginning to blush a light pink. Again and again she struck the soft summits of Edith's naughty little fundaments with practiced skill; again and again the crisp crack of palm against flesh reverberated off of the hardwood floor and ceiling of the schoolroom and the girl's small nates jiggled and shuddered from the impact. The brisk, steady cadence of Flora's spankings - as her young cousins had long known - were neither so swift as to sacrifice precision nor so slow as to sacrifice their cumulative effect on the sensations experienced by the errant child.

    Edith desperately bit down and went rigid to try to prevent any sound from escaping her lips and betraying to Miss Field's ears how much the spanking was hurting her. But tears had already begun to seep through her tightly shut eyes as the half dozenth spank landed. After just a half dozen more, Edith yelped and protested with every stinging slap, in spite of herself; she squirmed on Flora's lap from the ever-increasing pain, praying that each spank would be the last. But as she was learning to her dismay, her new governess was very severe indeed! Before long Edith's yelps of pain and indignation had merged into continuous cries of tearful anger as she raged inwardly at beastly hateful Miss Field and at the injustice of it all.

    Flora sensed the defiance in Edith's cries, and in the determined stiffness of her small torso and limbs, and she continued to fustigate the bare cheeks of Edith's cherubic little bottom as emphatically as ever, determined to win nothing short of genuinely contrite tears and heartfelt submission from the child. Flora had been impressed and rather amused by Edith's earlier stoicism, but not fooled. She had herself been a little girl not so very long ago, and was well acquainted with the sensations accompanying the turning over of one's person across an adult female knee and having one's undraped bottom soundly smacked. 

    Indeed, the disciplinary measure Flora now employed with Edith was much the same as her own nanny and governess had many times employed when they'd deemed young Flora deserving. When Flora had been Edith's age, this had occurred roughly once a fortnight, for such diverse infractions as dirty fingernails, a tea-stained pinafore, insufficiently studied lessons, or neglecting to curtsey deeply enough when passing her governess in the hallway. Her uncle had instructed that Flora be raised with exceeding strictness, since she would not inherit, would probably not marry well if at all, and hence would have to make her own way in the world. It would not do, he felt, to raise her as if his niece were destined for an adult life of luxurious idleness and drawing room repartee which his daughters could anticipate. 

    Oftentimes, while standing facing the corner in the nursery with a tear moistened face and smarting bottom after yet another smacking, little Flora had consoled herself with dreams of the day when she should give the whippings rather than receive them. These memories floated through Flora's mind as she remained steadfast in her mission: continuing to give a certain little girl's naughty little buttocks smack after smack after smack.

    As the colour of Edith's hindquarters slowly changed from a soft pink to a deeper pastel red, the little girl's world slowly constricted further until nothing remained but the horrid, blazing sting from her bottom crowding all else from her mind. The longer Miss Field spanked, the more it hurt, and the robust young woman showed no signs of tiring. Valiantly though Edith fought in her heart to thwart Miss Field from subduing her will,  the smacking her governess was giving her hurt so much, at last, that she could bear it no longer. Her poor little bottom now felt as if it were being held to the fire, its bare unprotected skin scorching and blistering from the heat. The dam broke, Edith's pride gave way, and she burst completely into tears. Her earlier resolve forgotten, she thought no more of resistance, only of repentance, as her formerly rigid little body now shook with heaving sobs. In her mind she cried out, "Please, oh please, Miss Field! I'm so sorry I was naughty! I shan't be rude to you ever again I promise! Please don't spank me more I beg you! I'll be a good girl now!" But when she tried to speak the words aloud, all that came out were blubbering wails and copious tears. And still Miss Field continued to spank her inflamed posterior as relentlessly as before.

    In fact, Flora could tell that Edith was trying to speak, and had a fairly good notion of what sorts of things the child wished to say. Flora had immediately recognised the change in timbre of Edith's crying, and knew that the little girl's punishment had accomplished its immediate purpose: to subdue her willfulness and bring her to repentance for her misbehavior. But Flora felt certain that Edith's first chastisement needed to be a particularly sound one in order to establish the teacher-pupil relationship correctly from the outset. She knew from experience that the contrition Edith now felt might soon dissipate along with the warmth in her bottom should Flora conclude the punishment too soon. Also, Edith was a spirited young lass, and Flora knew that although she was presently bawling as if in extremis, the child's plump, well nourished posterior could certainly tolerate plenty more smackbottoms, now and in the future. Flora recalled what  her nanny used to say.  The good Lord provides every child with a place ideally suited to receive correction.  This special spot is sensitive, to ensure that discipline be effectual.  Yet soft and resilient enough to receive the soundest of spankings without the least damage to tissue, even, her nanny was fond of adding with a knowing glance in blushing young Flora's direction, the tender posterior of a delicately nurtured little girl!

    Flora, smiled to herself as she recalled her childhood nanny's wise words, and knew that however much her smacks stung Edith's skin, there would be no bruising, and that at this time tomorrow Edith's bottom would be as creamy pale and unmarked as when she first entered the schoolroom today. So Flora continued to slap the sore, reddened buttocks of her weeping little pupil awhile longer for good measure - better to risk giving too much discipline than too little. The time tested remedy of a good smackbottom was working its magic once again, turning a saucy naughty child into a dutiful and obedient one, at least for awhile. And the sorer young Miss Fogarty's backside became now, the longer that interval of dutiful obedience might hopefully extend.  One's open hand, properly and judiciously applied to a little girl's bare fundaments from time to time, was usually sufficient to keep her sweet, tractable and well behaved.  Only in very special circumstances should there be any need to have recourse to the tawse.

    At long last, Flora slowly gave Edith's blushing buttocks three more extra hard smacks - causing the miserably sobbing girl to wail even more loudly in pain - and then her spanking was over. Without releasing her hold on Edith's wrists and legs Flora grasped the fingertips of her doeskin glove with her teeth and eased it off of her hand. She then  rested her tired arm, allowing her bare fingertips to lightly brush the surfaces of Edith's well-spanked little bottom. The entire surface of her nates was solidly red, hot to the touch, and slightly swollen. Flora could feel the faint ridges on Edith's right buttock where Flora's fingers had left little parallel welts while spanking. The little girl was still crying hard, her bottom smarting so bitterly that she was perhaps only now beginning to notice that Miss Fogerty's slaps had finally stopped.

    Several minutes passed. Edith's wails gave way to sobs and sobs gave way to sniffles. Flora released her hold on the child's wrists, intending to use both hands to pull up the little girl's bloomers. But Edith immediately reached back and began to rub the crimson cheeks of her backside. Frowning with displeasure, Flora seized both of Edith's wrists, moved her little hands out of the way, and gave the child three sharp smacks on her already-sore bottom, eliciting fresh wails and tears from Edith. "What did I tell you about rubbing yourself, young lady?!" demanded Flora. When Edith's tears had again subsided somewhat, she apologised in a meek little voice, saying that she'd "forgot." Flora suspected that Edith had remembered quite well and was merely testing her limits, but accepted the child's apology. Flora pulled up Edith's bloomers, fastened them, and then smoothed the little girl's frock and petticoats back into position. She then gently guided the softly crying child to her feet and faced her.

    "Edith," Flora asked sweetly, "Is there anything you would like to say for yourself?" Edith swallowed, nodded her head yes, wiped her tear soaked face on the sleeves of her frock, and amid sobs and sniffles, managed to stammer an apology for her naughty behavior and a promise never again to be cheeky to Miss Field. After giving Edith a warm hug and telling her she was forgiven, Flora ordered the child to the corner for her quarter hour of reflection. "Yes Miss Field," said Edith in a soft, whispery voice, so markedly unlike the tone she had used when she first arrived. She then dropped a quick but dainty curtsey to her new governess and promptly obeyed.

    Flora smiled to herself as her young charge placed herself in the corner. So the child does know how to curtsey after all...

    Meanwhile, face buried in the corner, valiantly resisting the impulse to rub her throbbing hindparts through her skirts, Edith silently plotted her revenge.


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