The Discipline of the Governess

Chapter One-4

“Yes,” said Miss Violetta softly, her great dark eyes bright upon him, “like that.” She permitted herself a brief smile. “That is the only way I ever shall be clean again.” Her skirts rustled softly before his face. “You may continue.”

“Yes, Miss,” Edward gulped. He slurped another spatter of slippery goo into his mouth. The act was repulsive and shameful…and yet, in some strange way, he began to realize that it was growing perversely exciting as well. If it was naughty of him to climax upon those pretty thighs and squirt all over them as she watched him calmly, how much more so was it to perform before her now! What a strange, almost impossibly intimate act!

“Only…” She eyed him closely.

Nervously, Edward raised his dripping face. Oh, how he hoped she could not see his guilty p***s where it had begun to twitch and inflate confusedly once more… He had to swallow before he could speak. “Yes, Miss?” he blinked.

“As you proceed,” suggested his governess with apparent casualness, though her eyes gleamed strangely bright, “make sure that before you swallow, each time you open wide and show me.” Her nostrils flared, and then she continued, a trifle breathily, “That is the only way I can be sure of your proper adherence to my command…”

“O-of course, Miss Violetta!” Edward gasped hastily. Fearful of incurring her further wrath, he ducked his chin, slurped up a clingy mouthful of goop, and then inclined his open jaw slightly to display it to her, his cheeks, his gums, his tongue absolutely swimming with semen. Obedient, he raised his eyebrows with the question that his sperm-clotted mouth could not voice.

For a moment the girl could only lick her lips as she gazed intently down into the mess. Her dark eyes burned. “Yes,” she whispered at last, “just like that…”

Glowing with the thought that he had pleased this stern lady, he swallowed gratefully, feeling the intensity of her long-lashed stare. He tried to tell himself that his only joy was in obedience, and yet his poor organ had begun to pulse again, uncertain and aching but secretly insistent. Red-faced, he continued, licking up a heavy tongue full of his own ejaculate, blinking up hopefully as she allowed her to inspect his progress, then letting the thick, bitter strings writhe down his throat.

Oh, could anyone imagine a thing so delightfully wicked? he marveled with a pleasant little inward shiver. Well, Miss Violetta could, apparently! He thrilled secretly with profound admiration for this serene, haughtily superior exemplar of propriety. Sucking up the great cables of sperm with which he had festooned her forbidden body was very, very dirty and yet, somehow, so strangely right as well. Here, kneeling before his governess’s ivory lap, he had no will, and hence no shame or remorse, only the sweet abandon of his oh-so well deserved servitude. How glorious it was to do as this stern lady had bidden, to serve her utterly!

In a moment, however, he found himself slowing. He blinked uncertainly at the shiny black crinoline that vibrated faintly bare inches from his eyes. Still she had not settled her skirts, he saw, and she had to readjust them. But, no— She was not merely adjusting her garment, he realized slowly. That rhythmic rustling was her hand, hidden by her skirts.

Red-faced, Edward knew suddenly that Miss Violetta was touching herself beneath her clothing, at the very top of her thighs. His mind could scarcely comprehend it. Why, in the midst of chastising him for his own forbidden lusts, she herself was m**********g…

His gaze flicked up in panic, and he found her smirking faintly down into his face, her eyes sly as she touched herself. Edward was frozen in fright, but as his governess looked down with a regal aloofness, her self-indulgent fingers never paused. She stared him straight in the eye, challengingly, as she m*********d.

He had heard that girls did this sort of thing, too, just as boys did, but it had always been so hard to believe. One of the other fellows at school had had a little book about a boarding academy somewhere in the Alps, where girls learned to touch each other between the legs when the lights went out. In that book young ladies hugged and kissed, lying in one another’s arms as they stroked all of the soft, secret places that during the daytime were hidden beneath their chaste skirts. The book, he remembered now, contained pen and ink line drawings, and all of the chaps used to gather around and stare at them in wonder. Night after night the fellows in his wing of the dormitory traded the book back and forth.

Many were the times that Edward had read that little dog-eared tome, and it never failed to give him an immediate erection. Sometimes he held the book open to one particular page or other in one shaking hand, awkwardly, as his other fist moved faster, faster, faster, and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out in his terrible joy. Now and then, though, one of the younger lads could be persuaded to do “Uncle Teddy” a favor. Yes, and then Edward might lie back smilingly, leafing languidly through the illustrated story at his leisure as, unseen behind the close-held book, the other boy’s pleasantly unpredictable grip worked dutifully at the naked red flesh of the decadent sultan of sixth form, pulling the sensitive flesh of the thin-stretched foreskin up and down across the swelling rim of the crown, up and down, as the engorged purple knob twitched and drizzled, and finally he simply erupted like his own secret Krakatoa…

Ah, how sweet it had been to imagine the private debauchery of pretendedly prim girls who in truth had desires just as randy as those of their male counterparts! For his own part, for example, he knew it was dirty and wrong to have another boy masturbate him—but he just couldn’t help himself! Yes, for joyous as it was to yank himself breathlessly off, how much more delicious it was to feel the touch of some other hand upon his throbbing organ, delightfully foreign and new, so promising of a torrent of fierce liquid lust! Might a girl feel that way, too? he had always wondered. Might she long secretly for the sweet strokings beneath her belly that she knew good girls weren’t supposed to desire? And even if she was unable to seduce some fellow modest young lady into her soft embrace, might she at least play with herself in the dark as she imagined it, panting and shuddering? Oh, he hoped so!

Yet never, however, had he imagined that he himself might actually be a party to such a secret act of feminine intimacy. It was too impossible, too forbidden. Why, he had never really even been sure that girls did it, too. But they did, he realized dizzily now, they did! Awestruck, he could only blink at the glossy midnight crinolines vibrating upon his governess’s lap, and know that she was m**********g.

“Do you have something you wish to say, Master Edward?” Miss Violetta asked quietly.

It was wet down there, he realized in shock, wet and very hairy. He could hear the slide of her fingertips through the dense curls beneath her belly, could hear the slippery smack as they sported in the intimate moist flesh beneath. And the smell! It was damp and salty, musky—how that scent thrilled him! His mouth watered, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Well?” she prodded with a quiet challenge. Through it all, hidden only by the prim folds of her skirt, her fingertips swirled casually through the naked flesh of her wet s*x. He heard a very wet squelch as she slid a finger deep within herself, and then a bubbly sound as her shameless digits rubbed the scooped fluids all about some secret point of interest. “Is there something you wish to say?”

“N-no, Miss Violetta,” he sputtered. Despite the exertion of his climax, suddenly his organ was wildly erect again, absolutely bloated at the thought of the impossible perversion he was witnessing.

“Are you sure, young Master Edward?” she wondered teasingly. “No matter of curiosity about which you wish to ask your governess…?”

He swallowed, red-faced as he listened to her calm white fingers pleasuring herself so intimately, bare inches away from his wondering face, yet mockingly hidden beneath her skirt. He inhaled the sweet fishy reek of her excited young body. “No, Miss,” he whispered at last.

“Very well,” she smiled. Her heavy eyelids fluttered drowsily for a moment, and with an effort she continued huskily, “Then you may continue cleaning me. And remember,” she added swiftly, “to show it to me in your mouth! O-only th-then can I be sure that you are learning your lesson…”

“Yes, Miss,” he sighed. Gasping, he dropped his mouth into the sperm filled pillars of her decorously closed thighs and wallowed in his wild lusts.

Poor Edward’s c**k was achingly rigid, fired by this beautiful perversion as he would not have thought possible. Hungrily he dragged his reddened face across the sloppy curves of his young governess’s lap, gulping at the product of his wicked desires, slurping, bubbling. It was she who had made him squirt so, his soul screamed silently, she! He had worshiped her with his uncontrollable orgasm, he knew all at once, and now he worshiped her again. Through it all he contrived to roll his head slightly to the side so that he could gaze contentedly up at his stern mistress from the corner of one eye.

Oh, how beautiful she was, how otherworldly! Though she attempted to maintain her composure, her porcelain face was a study of secret pleasures. Her cheeks were flushed, and her rich lips were parted slightly, exposing the pearls of her even white teeth. Her long-lashed eyes were slitted almost as if in some beautiful agony, yet still he sensed her eager gaze upon his rapturous labors. She wanted to observe his worship of her, he realized dizzily. The power of her cool white beauty had brought him to this state, to this utter subservience, and even now still she enjoyed the knowledge, and the sight of his helpless rapture. How he wished to please her!

Edward gulped at the stringy handfuls of the semen she had made him squirt, as if it were her very flesh that he devoured. To please this imperial, demanding young mistress he would do anything, anything! Despite the globs and spatters of sperm which oozed into his nostrils, he seemed to smell nothing but the powerful odor of her excited femininity, salty and warm and wet and fishy. Faster moved her unseen fingers so close before his face, faster. Her slippery flesh squelched. Her body began to shake with growing tremors, and heavy waves of sable held only by her shining red ribbon trembled faintly to her demure shivers.

Had he dared, Edward would have reached down and handled himself deliriously to another climax—but still he feared his demanding governess’s wrath. Oh, but surely later! he told himself. Ah, he vowed silently, how he would remember this! He left his sweating hands upon the intricately carved arms of her chair as he laved her with his shameless tongue. Just as her walls were hung with paintings of maidens frolicking together, smooth and gleaming and white, he came to realize that her chair was similarly decorated. The dark wood beneath his hands had been worked into curves and swells, hollows and mounds—carved girls embraced and lay together, touched each other gently, sometimes even rested their faces in one another’s open laps…

Though the sight of those little scenes thrilled him, so much more did the ivory gleam of his stern lady’s thighs, the feel of her imperious smoothness against his blazing cheeks. How he tasted her! Edward moved his face all about her firm white flesh, licking, sucking, and then always smacking theatrically before he swallowed. As he worked wildly at gobbling up every sour puddle, spatter, and drip of his spunk from her primly closed thighs, gulp after gulp of the bitter fluids of his excitation passed his lips, glossed his tongue, and slid stickily down his throat. Finally, he was left with one last cold mouthful of his shame. Breathless and excited, he displayed it to her, trying not to drool. Reverently he looked up to watch Miss Violetta climax.