Edith's New Governess

By HandPrince

Chapter 1.   Edith Has Her First Lesson

    Her husband, Reginald Fogarty, a Member of Parliament, most often away in London or inspecting his various properties on the island and on the continent, deemed child rearing a fit province for the fairer sex alone, not of men. And Edith had her Papa wrapped around her little finger, in any event. She was his adored pet during his infrequent visits, and he absolutely would not hear 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.  The soft tresses of her raven black hair, tied up elegantly above, crowned her finely featured face. 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," declared Flora, with relaxed confidence. She then explained how she had been orphaned at an early age, with only her father's debts for a dowry, and raised in Yorkshire in the country house of wealthy distant relations who wished to spare her from life in the workhouse. As she'd grown into her teen years, she'd helped repay their generosity by assisting her governess in administering lessons to their two little daughters, Flora's distant cousins; and, on not-infrequent occasions, administering discipline as well.  Mrs. Fogarty glanced at Flora's letter of referral, then back at Flora.

    "Yes, Miss Field, clearly you have had your share of experience in certain duties of a governess, despite your youth, and in a most respectable house, I daresay. And you come highly recommended by the headmistress at-" she glanced again at the page, "-at Miss Windgate's Academy for Girls, who says you acquitted yourself admirably in your positions as underteacher and scourgemistress, with proficiencies in," she glanced again at the page, "manners, etiquette, penmanship, pianoforte, watercolours and French. But Miss Field, this position would constitute your first professional assignment as a full-fledged governess 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. You shall find me well prepared, I can assure you, both in the area of child instruction, and in the area of child management."

    "Well then," Mrs. Fogarty sighed, "I suppose I shall grant you the opportunity you desire."  She concluded, "The position is yours, Miss Field. Still, prudence compels me  to emphasise again that my Edith is an uncommonly wilful 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, after introducing her to the rest of the staff, 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 led Flora to the schoolroom, and after familiarising her with the family's collection of books, maps and other educational aids, promised to 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.

    Ere long, light boot steps echoed in the stairwell and then along the hallway.  All at once, a pretty little girl of nine summers, with her mother's large blue eyes and chestnut brown hair, tied back in a red velvet 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-favoured 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 elf than demon. Still, Flora couldn't fail to note a hint of sullenness and obstinacy in the pout of the child's lower lip. Flora beckoned Edith inside and the youngster entered, regarding Flora with unconcealed suspicion.

    "Hello, you must be Edith," Flora said with a smile as she closed and bolted 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, mused Flora to herself, the ill-raised creature never learned to curtsy??)  "As long as it takes to instruct you properly, Mistress Fogarty. Now, take your seat at once, and prepare 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!" Despite Mrs. Fogarty's warnings, Flora found herself quite taken aback at such brazen effrontery. Truly this child had the countenance of an angel, but the impudence of an imp!

    "Edith Anne Fogarty, your rudeness is unconscionable!"  Flora sternly admonished, "You have chosen your first lesson to be one of discipline and of proper deportment. As your governess I am resolved to correct you forthwith!" Flora quickly stepped forward and seized the little girl by her wrist before she could flee.

    "Let me go you beastly woman!" commanded Edith indignantly, striving in vain to pry loose Flora's gloved hand. "Release me at once!" Paying no heed, Flora resolutely hauled the struggling Edith across the room to the window seat.  There, in a twinkling, with an aplomb borne of long experience in the administration of child discipline, she both seated herself, pulled Edith over her left knee, and secured the child's legs with her right, all in a single motion. 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 taking hold of the red satin hem of Edith's dress with her right.

    "Miss Fogarty, you'd be well advised never to take that tone with me again!" Flora chided, as she swept up the ample skirt of Edith's frock well above her small waist, and then lifted each of her fluffy white petticoats in like fashion, depositing them in a heap across her slender middle. The outline of Edith's shapely well-nourished little rump, encased within lace-trimmed, knee-length bloomers, now met Flora's approving eye; turned up across the woman's knee, the child's soft, girlish fundaments stood, ideally positioned for the long overdue chastisement they would both 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 appropriate. 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 upon the struggling child. This latter precaution proved wise, as Edith's attempts at escape rallied fiercely as the fabric of her undergarment slipped 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.

    Flora, satisfied that her pupil had abandoned hope of escape, 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 chastised and to resolve to forever avoid this fault when addressing your governess in future. During this time, you are forbidden to rub your... to rub your lower back. Do I make myself clear?"

    Edith glowered over her shoulder at Miss Field in silence. She resolved to keep a stiff upper lip during her punishment. Mama and Papa never smacked her, of course, but she already knew smackings as indignities easily endured, on account of the uncommon occasions when Nanny managed to catch her and administer a few feeble swats over Edith's clothing with Nanny's weathered, arthritic hand. Flora raised her supple young palm high and delivered a resounding slap to the girl's undraped backside. The astonished child gasped and stiffened as she fought her impulse to cry out. "When your governess asks you a question she expects a prompt and courteous response. Is that understood?"  snapped Flora. All that Edith understood at that instant, was that her governess smacked much harder than Nanny ever could - indeed, harder than she had imagined anyone could! The precise spot where Flora's horrid palm had so cruelly smacked Edith's poor, tender flesh smarted most urgently, plaintively, 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 throbbing nates. Perhaps, she thought, as chilly fingers of fear suddenly began to caress her heart for the first time since she had entered that room, I oughtn't to make Miss Field any more cross with me!

    "Yes," Edith sullenly muttered aloud, as she tried her best to hide her discomfort and her sudden dread of the disciplinary measure Miss Field would shortly administer. Impulsively, she clenched and unclenched her buttocks in a vain attempt make their stinging subside.

    Flora noted with approval the flinching of Edith's hindparts, which belied the child's outward pretense of indifference; she noted as well the pink outline of her own open hand beginning to appear across Edith's milky-white soft flesh. Again she raised her palm high, took a deep breath, and gave the little girl's buttocks another equally hard,  smack on the 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 narrowed. The world, her house, and the classroom, vanished. At the dim periphery of her consciousness lay the firm tightness of Flora's hand gripping her wrists, the fabric of the window seat cushion chafing against her face, the rumpled folds of her bloomers bunched up between her upper thighs, and the tight embrace of Flora's right leg keeping Edith's little legs immobile.  But a hand-shaped area covering the middle and lower portions of her buttocks, throbbing with a stinging discomfort beyond Edith's power to soothe, commanded the arena of her mind's eye.

    "Thank you, Edith," replied Flora with satisfaction, "You have learned to address me properly. Our first lesson together has proceeded well. For your next lesson, you shall learn the price of rudeness and of insolence to your governess - what the Americans call a 'spanking.'" Without another word, she began to chastise her young charge in earnest, slapping the twin mounds of tender flesh with unhurried, confident aplomb.

    The urgent upwelling of smarting discomfort Edith experienced, as Miss Field's doe-skinned palm rained brisk, hard slaps upon her sensitive bare skin, felt no less disagreeable than if administered by an ungloved hand.  But that glove permitted Flora to continue Edith's correction however long she deemed necessary, without an intolerably sore palm forcing an untimely halt to the proceedings.  As she smacked her young pupil's captive buttocks, Flora took care to aim well so as to make every slap count. Flora's field of attention, too, had narrowed, to focus as well on the soft, gently-rounded hemispheres of Edith's posterior, earlier so pale and cool, but now warm to the touch and swiftly blushing a rosy pink.  Again and again she swatted the middle and lower portions of Edith's small upturned fundaments with practised skill; again and again the crisp crack of palm against flesh reverberated off the hardwood floor and ceiling of the schoolroom as the girl's small nates jiggled and shuddered from each impact. The brisk, steady cadence of Flora's spankings - as her young cousins back home, and her young pupils back at Miss Windgate's Academy knew only too well - were neither so swift as to sacrifice precision, nor so slow as to sacrifice their cumulative effect upon the condign sensations experienced by an errant child turned over her knee.

    Edith desperately gritted her teeth lest any sound escaping her lips should betray to Miss Field's ears how much her 'spanking' truly did hurt. But telltale tears already seeped from Edith's tightly shut eyes before Miss Field's half dozenth smack had landed. After just a half dozen more, Edith yelped and protested with every stinging slap, in spite of herself; she clenched her little fists, and tightened her little body to try and steel herself against the ever-increasing pain, praying that each smack should be Miss Field's last, hoping against hope that her soft bare bottom could somehow outlast her new governess's firm gloved hand. But to her dismay, as each fresh slap resounded across her smarting backside, realisation dawned that Edith now had the misfortune to find herself under the authority, and over the knee, of a very severe governess indeed! Before much longer, Edith's yelps of pain and indignation merged into continuous cries of tearful anger as she raged inwardly at vile, hateful, Miss Field and at the injustice of it all.

    As Flora continued to emphatically slap the reddening cheeks of Edith's cherubic posterior, she could not fail to notice the defiance, both in Edith's cries, and in the determined stiffness of her small torso, her limbs, and her tightly-clenched little buttocks. For her new relationship with Edith to embark upon its proper course, Flora would countenance nothing short of genuinely contrite tears and heartfelt submission from the child.  And she intended that such contrition and submission commence this very hour. No spoiled, contumacious moppet will easily allow herself to be moulded into a courteous, obedient young lady, but Flora inly vouchsafed that she should not fail at that task.   Edith's earlier stoicism had impressed and rather amused Flora, but not fooled her. Flora, once a little girl herself not so very long ago, possessed a thorough acquaintance with the sensations accompanying the turning over of one's person across an adult female knee for a sound and thorough skelping upon one's undraped bottom.

Indeed, the disciplinary measures Flora now employed with Edith differed in no part from those both her own nanny and governess had oftentimes employed when they deemed young Flora deserving. At Edith's age, such employment had occurred roughly once a fortnight, for such diverse infractions as dirty fingernails, a tea-stained pinafore, insufficiently memorised lessons, or neglecting to curtsy deeply enough when passing either woman in the hallway. Her benefactors had enjoined her nanny and governess to raise little Flora with exceeding strictness, since she would not inherit, would likely not marry well, if at all, and hence would have to make her own way in the world, in service. It certainly would never do, they felt, to bring her up as if her destiny lay in the adult life of luxurious idleness and drawing room repartee they anticipated for their own daughters.

    Oftentimes, while standing facing the corner in the nursery, face tear-stained, and bottom smarting from yet another smacking, little Flora consoled herself with imaginings of a future in which she should give the whippings rather than receive them.

    On the window seat in Edith's schoolroom, such quaint memories floated through Flora's mind as she remained steadfast in her present mission: continuing to apply smack after smack after well-deserved smack to a certain headstrong pixie's naughty little buttocks - just as Flora's own governess would surely have done had little Flora addressed her with so much as a twentieth portion of Edith's insolence.

    As Edith's hindquarters blushed from a vivid pink colour to a deeper pastel red, the little girl's world constricted further until, nothing remained but the horrid, blazing sting crowding all else from her awareness. The longer Miss Field smacked, the worse it hurt.  And the robust young woman evinced no symptoms of exhaustion, clearly intent upon imposing her own will entirely upon Edith's, to the child's very core. Valiantly though Edith fought to thwart Miss Field's bid, her governess's 'spanking' hurt so much, that at last, she could bear it no longer. Her poor little bottom now felt as if held to the fire to roast, its bare unprotected skin scorching and blistering in that terrible heat. Edith's pride gave way, and she collapsed completely into miserable tears. Her earlier resolve forgotten, she thought no more of resistance, only of submission and of the hope of mercy. 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 called you an old witch! I shan't be rude to you ever ever ever again I promise! Please don't whip me more, I beg of you!" But when she tried to speak words aloud, only blubbering wails of pain emerged from her lips.

    Flora paused, noting the change in timbre of Edith's crying, and the sudden softening of her little body.  The child's correction had accomplished its immediate purpose: to conquer her rebellious Will and thus open a dwelling place in her heart for repentance for her earlier misbehaviour. Flora divined that Edith wished to speak, and had little doubt what sorts of words the child wished to express.  Edith's opportunity to utter them would shortly arrive.  Should she conclude Edith's correction now?  The little girl across her knee certainly no longer cried in her defiant tone of moments earlier, but on a tender sorrowful note instead.  In most cases, with her young cousins and the girls at Miss Windgate's, Flora stopped smacking when she heard them cry submissively, like Edith.  But after some consideration, Flora concluded that Edith needed a particularly sound first chastisement, to lay down a solid foundation upon which to build their teacher-pupil relationship correctly from the outset. Flora knew from experience that a child's contrition whilst in the throes of a properly administered spanking, might soon dissipate, along with the warmth in her bottom, should her punishment conclude prematurely. And although she presently bawled as if in extremis, Edith's ample little buttocks could certainly tolerate a few additional slaps without injury. Better to chance providing too much discipline rather than too little!

    Edith, as she heaved with sobs and tearful wails of pain, had implored God to make Miss Field stop smacking her, indeed, implored Him to never let Miss Field smack her again.  She knew she'd been dreadfully foolish to openly play up to Miss Field.  She daren't commit that misstep again.  She also knew that she needed vile, beastly, Miss Field gone from Edith's home forever. Edith would keep such thoughts unspoken, henceforth.

    Although she continued to cry, Edith began to notice that a keen edge of scorching pain had receded, although her bottom still smarted urgently.  It dawned on her that Miss Field had ceased smacking.  Oh! Thank you, God!!  Edith wished she had thought sooner of seeking divine intervention to stay Miss Field's punishing hand.  Should she suffer the misfortune of finding herself across Miss Field's knee in future, Edith would remember to pray straight away!

    Miss Field had finished smacking, Edith thought... hadn't she?  Her swats had stopped but still she held Edith tightly in position across her knee.  With a wave of dread, Edith suddenly wondered if perhaps Miss Field had merely paused to rest her arm, and would resume?  Edith wished to know, but would have feared asking even if she'd had the ability to form words through her tears.

    Taking a deep breath, Flora gave Edith's blushing buttocks three extra hard slaps for good measure, slowly spaced - causing the miserably wailing girl to bawl even more loudly in pain - and her spanking concluded therewith.

    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 warm, throbbing hand. She then rested her tired arm, allowing her bare fingertips to lightly brush the surfaces of Edith's well-smacked little bottom - solidly red, hot to the touch, and slightly swollen - as the little girl continued to cry hard.  Faint ridges graced Edith's right buttock where Flora's fingers had wrought a filigree of parallel welts while swatting her.

    Edith had earlier howled as much from horror as from pain, as Miss Field's forceful smack resumed across her smarting rear.   Her 'spanking' wasn't over!  Would abominable Miss Field never stop?? How could God allow her??  Had He no mercy for a poor little whipped girl who was sorry she'd been naughty??  Another very hard smack resounded across Edith's bottom, bringing once again a surge of that scorching edge of ouch-ness which had faded a minute ago.  Still crying out from the upwelling of sting, yet another powerful swat drove Edith's small body hard against Miss Field's thigh. A still keener throb of pain followed, leaving her bawling into the dampened window seat cushion, further wetting it with fresh tears.

    Several minutes passed, as Flora switched from securing Edith's wrists with her weary left hand, to her right.  Edith's wails gave way to sobs, and sobs gave way to sniffles. Judging the child capable of speaking and listening to instructions, Flora released her hold on Edith's wrists, intending to use both hands to pull up and refasten 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 swift smacks on her crimson 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 over her shoulder in a meek little voice, saying that she'd "forgot." Flora suspected that Edith had remembered quite well and had merely tested her limits; still, she accepted the child's apology. Flora again released Edith's wrists, fastened Edith's bloomers, smoothed the little girl's petticoats and skirt back into position, then gently guided the weepy chastened child to her feet, and faced her.

    "Edith?" Flora inquired sweetly, "Is there anything you would like to say for yourself?" Edith swallowed, nodded her head Yes, and wiped her tear soaked face on the sleeve of her frock.  Then amid sobs and sniffles, she stammered an apology for her naughty behaviour and a promise never again to be cheeky to Miss Field or to misbehave in any way.

    As Edith stood facing her torturer, she wished for nothing except to tell Miss Field whatever her governess wanted to hear her say.  And Edith had meant it when she promised never to be cheeky to Miss Field.  One mustn't be cheeky to a grownup capable of doing that to you whenever she wishes!  Edith had not meant it when she promised never to be naughty again.  She knew she wouldn't keep that promise, but also knew she had jolly well better not say so aloud. With Miss Field, only secret naughtiness henceforth, never again while her governess looked on!

    After giving Edith a perfunctory hug and declaring the child forgiven, Flora ordered the her to the corner for her quarter hour of reflection, along with a reminder to keep both her hands upon her head, and not to rub her backside again, lest she thereby earn herself another smack bottom. "Yes Miss Field," murmured Edith, in a soft, whispery voice, so markedly unlike the tone she had taken when she first entered the schoolroom. She then dropped a quick but dainty curtsy 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 curtsy after all...

    Placing her right palm on the granite mantelpiece, Flora smiled as the cool smooth stone soothed her hot smacking hand.  As she regarded the little girl in the corner, Flora recalled her own nanny as fond of saying that because of our sinful natures, the good Lord in His wisdom provides every child with a special spot for receipt of correction.  God, she'd declare, made this special spot sensitive, to ensure effectual discipline, yet resilient enough to receive the soundest of smackings without damage to tissue; even, her nanny was wont to add, with a knowing glance in blushing little Flora's direction, the tender posterior of a delicately nurtured young Miss!

    Flora, smiled to herself as she recalled her nanny's wise words, confident that however much her smacks stung Edith's skin, no bruising would ensue, and the passage of a day or so would find Edith's bottom as creamy pale and unmarked as when she first entered the schoolroom.  Glancing at the clock, she saw that Edith still had several minutes remaining. Turning her gaze back to her young charge, obediently standing in her corner with hands on head, Flora sighed with satisfaction. The time-tested remedy of a good spanking had worked its magic once again, as it had since the dawn of time; turning saucy, defiant children into a submissive, respectful ones, at least for a little while!

    Edith would be a challenge, to be sure!  But Flora felt pleased with how their first lesson had unfolded.  Without establishing at the outset her authority as governess, subsequent lessons would have had little prospect of success.  As Flora's nanny used to say, "Let thy child's first lesson be obedience, and the second shall be what thou wilt."  A child of Edith's strong-willed nature, while obedient at that moment, would doubtlessly test Flora's resolve in future, and would doubtlessly require further applications of discipline.  But Flora's gloved open hand, brush, or ferule, properly and judiciously applied to a child's bare fundaments when needed, had rarely failed to keep little girls in Flora's care sweet, tractable and well-behaved the rest of the time.  Only in very special circumstances might Flora need to have recourse to the cane.

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

Chapter 2 -->