The Discipline of the Governess

Chapter One-3

A twinge of horrified guilt surged through his palpitating body and, punishment or not, he almost would have jumped up from that wickedly inviting lap. If she knew the extent of his reaction, he realized all at once, how shocked she would be, how repulsed! Yet the hand which restrained his spasmically clenching fists behind his back was firm. Calm and relentless, she held him to her. Despite his shame, he could not escape, and neither could he slow his frenzied movements.

Suddenly nothing seemed to matter but the sensations which flooded his being—not the pain in his backside, not the humiliation of his predicament, not even the relentless gaze of his implacable governess. He found himself gasping at the terrible joys which burned and throbbed beneath the base of his belly. Ah, that cloyingly familiar, quivery tingle that burned along every thrilled inch of him, promising any and every delight if only he could follow that sensation, concentrate on it, ride it like a great frothing wave at the beach as it pulled and pushed all at once, supporting him and yet sweeping him along… Yes, that was it, that was it, yes, yes, yes—

Then all of his muscles stiffened convulsively. His spine arched, and his eyes rolled back beneath heavy lids. Edward groaned aloud and, shivering in helpless delight, he ejaculated gratefully into his governess’s lap.

He knew it was wrong, and he knew that she was watching his every movement, but he simply could not stop himself. On and on his balls clenched, spewing thick jets of semen from his purpled cockhead, surely a dozen heavy spurts that seemed to have no end. It felt so good. Unreservedly he poured himself out, writhing in the bliss of his forbidden ecstasy. His entire body glowed in the timelessness of the moment, happy and sleepy and warm.

Yet as his wicked pleasure subsided he all at once became aware that Miss Violetta’s fiery spanking had ceased. He blinked in the suddenly loud silence, sensing to his despair that the flesh of the lady beneath him was wet with his fluids, goopy and overflowing. Biting his lip, he raised his head meekly, and looked up her, red-faced.

Miss Violetta merely stared down at him with a judicial blandness. “Have you soiled me, Edward?” she asked quietly.

He gulped. “I— I am afraid so, Miss,” came his forlorn reply.

She gave a faint parody of an expression of surprise. “The chronic masturbator is sent home from school and immediately must be punished for new disobedience—and now he has the effrontery to spill his sperm in his governess’s lap, right before her very eyes!” She shook her head slowly, making the dark waves sway mournfully about her throat and the delicately fuzzy nape of her neck.

“I am sorry, Miss Violetta,” he said miserably.

“Are you really that shameless a creature, Master Edward?” she wondered darkly. “You would thwart my punishment, and turn it to your own fiendish ends?”

“B-b-but, Miss Violetta,” he attempted shamefacedly, “I-I-I— I never meant to—”

“Really?” she asked evenly. Her dark eyes gazed searchingly down into his flushed face. “But I watched you, young Edward,” she reminded him. “I watched you the whole time.” She nodded as she let this sink in. “I saw everything you did. Eeeeverything.”

Poor Edward bit his lip in mortified silence as he imagined it. Those fathomless dark eyes had studied him all the while, staring critically at his every helpless movement. What a strange, strange thing to think! It was revolting, shameful, and unforgivable. And yet…well, in a way perhaps it was secretly thrilling, too, was it not? Mm, to imagine that calm-eyed, superior face of smooth-complected cream observing every sweaty struggle of his poor fluttering body as it quivered and clenched and jerked, discharging helplessly…

For a brief moment he almost wondered why she had not stopped him, had not prevented him from this unutterable desecration—but no, he realized immediately, that was entirely the wrong thing to think. Why, the fault was his, of course, not hers. He should know better. He should be able to control himself. This prim goddess of household proprieties should not have to sully herself with matters of such base vileness, even to speak of them. And this way, after all, since she had let him continue, she had begun to glimpse the utter depths of her charge’s iniquity, and now she knew precisely the type of boy she was dealing with… Perhaps, he tried to tell himself, it was for the best like this.

“Yes,” persisted his governess deliberately, “though I attempted to rectify your willful behavior, you seem to have had no compunction about soiling me with your shame. Oh, how you used me!” Her wrist lay now cool and motionless and white against the back of his bare leg, and her once-savage little hand had slid down—unnoticed, he was certain—until it draped casually across the sensitive flesh of his scrotum.

“I am sorry, Miss,” he whimpered.

“Edward, you naughty boy,” she said sternly, “this was as willful and deliberate as it would have been to have simply m*********d right in my face.” Idly her fingertips caressed him once more at the very base of the factories of his lusts, slowly, appraisingly, and yet somehow almost commandingly as well…

Edward’s cheeks went scarlet as he thought of what his beautifully cruel governess had said. Never had he imagined such a terrible act, and suddenly her words seemed to burn at the very base of his brain. He tried to speak, but for a moment he could make no reply.

“Did you think I would not know?” she glowered. Her gaze was forbidding, but the wickedly intimate touch of her idle fingertips was so soft, so incongruously gentle… “Yet even the most proper young lady cannot help but realize what is amiss when her charge is so brutishly obvious. Yes,” she continued vengefully, “you might as well have thrust your nasty red thing in my face and jerked it right before my eyes. You might as well have spattered my very mouth with your wretched sperm!”

Edward took a ragged breath, trembling. His eyes grew round at the shame she suggested. What it would be like to perform before this stern mistress without reserve? he wondered dizzily. Oh, how he might handle himself before her knowing gaze, rhythmically, urgently, faster and faster—

She stared at him, hard. “You wouldn’t want to do such a thing, would you, you little pervert?” she snapped, her voice a dark counterpart to the surely unwitting encouragement of her tender fingertips.

Edward’s mouth came open of its own accord, silently. Impossibly bright in his mind’s eye burned the beautiful thought of this elegant young lady’s lovely face strung with the clingy tangles of his forbidden semen. Oh, how would spattering that smirking pale visage with his urgent fluids, coating her with his secret lusts, making her all his somehow… Ah, the sweet, savage joy of it all! But he blinked away the alluring vision with an effort. Carefully he closed his mouth, and swallowed.

“No, Miss Violetta,” he replied at last.

Her red lips pursed in a crooked little smile as she cupped his testicles in her coolly imperious white palm. “Yet that is precisely how wicked and willful your act was,” she said reproachfully.

“I am sorry, Miss,” Edward replied with rectitude.

“I see now that I must plan your re-education with care, perverse Master Edward,” declared the commanding lady. Her red lips were firm as she stared down at him through slitted eyes, but still her tapering digits caressed him almost understandingly somehow. “I will oversee it most intimately.”

He gazed up at her helplessly. “Thank you, Miss,” he whispered.

At this admission of his subservience she gave a long, slow smile. “You will begin now,” she said. “Get down on your knees and clean me up.”

“Yes, Miss Violetta.” He scrambled awkwardly from her lap and reached hastily to pull his clothing up over his sticky loins and his poor manhood, which had shrunk now with exertion and with renewed fright.

“Never mind that!” she rapped out. “Your foolish modesty is even more out of place than your shameless effluvia.”

“Yes, Miss,” he replied, blinking. He knelt before her upon the heavy carpeting, bare-bottomed and ashamed. Her shapely knees and the smooth sweep of her thighs gleamed whitely before him, framed by the folds of her midnight skirts and by the heavy arms of her great chair. The rounded flesh of those thighs, he saw with a start, was spattered with great heapings of his goop, glistening, dripping… Despite his terrifying predicament, he marveled that his body had produced such a copious spattering. Always before when he had brought himself to this state he had done so beneath the covers at night, unseeing, and his seed had been soaked up in pajamas and sheets. Yet now what a truly animalistic mess he had made! He swallowed, then began to look about for a handkerchief or a towel.

“Do not bother,” said that proper lady with a dangerously calm tone. With dainty white hands she pulled her rustling skirts a little farther out of his way, so that the glossy raven folds were piled up about the very tops of her rounded thighs. “You will use your mouth.”

He gaped up at her. “M-M-Miss?”

“Are you hard of hearing, young sir?” she wondered, her eyes narrowed.

“N-no, Miss,” gulped Edward, “b-but—”

“But nothing,” she corrected him firmly. “This is your filth, not mine,” she said idly. “I will not have one of my dainty handkerchiefs soiled for such a mess.” Her smile was cold and self-possessed. “Lick me clean, you naughty boy,” she commanded.

“Y-y-yes, Miss,” he replied helplessly. Trembling, he pushed his face farther, past her knees, until his chin brushed through the soft valley of her closed upper legs. His own wet spunk shone before his wide eyes, thick and glistening, beginning to drip. Tiny bubbles gleamed here and there, and now he could discern strings and milky swirls in the copious liquids. Again he marveled that he had done that to her beautiful white flesh. It was a perverse thrill to think that he had soiled those pretty white thighs so, and with that naughty thought in his mind, he bit his lip and looked guiltily up at his stern governess.

Miss Violetta stared down at him, her liquid black pupils dilated beneath her gorgeous lashes. “Now,” husked her red lips.

“Yes, Miss,” he said meekly. The lady’s skirts rustled faintly as she adjusted them again. He could smell the cool wetness of his own sperm, along with some different scent that he could not identify. Somehow, despite the great discomfort of the situation, he found that other faint, salty odor vaguely exciting. Mouth watering at the unknown scent, Edward began to obey her.

At first he merely pushed the heavy liquid hesitantly with the tip of his tongue, but he soon realized that such an action would never remove the offending gouts as Miss Violetta had commanded. He looked up at her with trepidation—and found her frowning at his half-heartedness.

“You must suck up every nasty spurt of your sperm, Master Edward,” she said severely. Her nostrils flared. “You must make it as though your wicked transgression had never happened.”

“Yes, Miss.” Miserably he extended his poor tongue and licked slowly along an ivory thigh until one clammy strand of semen which had graced it was piled up in sticky coils upon the shrinking corrugations of his taste buds. He tried not to taste it, but a sour flavor seemed to ooze from the bottom of the slippery mess into his tongue. His eyes darted about wildly, but there was nowhere he could spit the bitter goo—and that was not what she had commanded anyway, he knew.

Her lips smirked down mercilessly. “Clean me properly, Master Edward,” she insisted. “I should not have a single drop of that dirty sperm upon me.”

Gazing forlornly up into her searching eyes, Edward cupped the trough of his tongue and sucked the goo unwillingly into his mouth, where it nestled for a moment, thick and stringy. Still he tried to think of how he could avoid swallowing the clammy mouthful of his ejaculate. It was no use, he knew, for Miss Violetta’s eyes were bright and expectant upon his helpless face. Her lips were compressed expressionlessly, but her cheeks glowed with a secret warmth. Even in her punishing anger, he thought wildly, how beautiful she was!

“Do not disobey me again,” came her quiet warning.

Edward weighed the cool puddle of his own sperm in his mouth as she stared down at him so intently. The substance was thick and stringy, like some pudding, perhaps. It was sour and unpleasant, but he knew his duty—and the dark eyes of his governess gazed eagerly down at his utter subservience. It was only fair, he tried to tell himself. He was at fault, after all, and this slimy soup of sperm was indeed the product of his own lusts. Surely a proper young lady such as Miss Violetta should not be expected to touch that ejaculate herself, even to remove it. Making a face, he swallowed the clammy goop resignedly.