Wednesday, 17 March 2010

A girl and her governess

Unfortunately, I do not know precisely, from what magazine this story. It seems to me that it was old Janus

A girl and her governess

She was sitting on the beach, a tall slender girl with a graceful figure, wearing a light-red bikini. She wanted to be alone, but she was constantly aware of how people around her looked at her. She tried her best to turn her head away as she didn't wish to meet their staring eyes. She was leaning backwards on her arms with her palms down in the sand, stretching her long legs in front of her. Every now and then she looked up in the sky where there were few clouds and occasionally a passenger plane passing by.

Seventeen-year-old Stella had decided to spend as much as possible of this day by the lake. She wanted to because the next day and perhaps for a few following days it would be a little awkward for her to come down to the beach at all. No girl at her age would like to wear a bikini and stroll around on the beach among lots of people if she were in the same predicament.

The thought stayed in her head, and suddenly she felt a strange sensation and a tingling feeling between her thighs which made her involuntarily press her slim thighs together. She imagined how exciting it would be if she walked around down here on the beach in her brief shorts or in her bikini tomorrow. How they would be staring at her.

This afternoon, her governess – as mother liked to call her, or Miss Hilton, as daddy addressed her, had taken the car to a shop in Portsmouth. There she was going to buy something she had been talking about for the last three days. It was something, she had told Stella, which would be very useful in the upbringing of teenaged girls.

When she returned she would be waiting in the little cottage Stella's parents had rented for the summer before they went on their trip abroad. At half-past-four she would have tea ready for them and after Stella had washed the dishes, Miss Hilton had said she intended to let Stella make her first acquaintance with a new implement she had acquired.

Stella's first acquaintance? That was what she had said. But what would it be? Stella shuddered in the warm sun as she thought about it.

Her parents were rather strict. Not so much her daddy. But her stepmother, who had married daddy a little more than nine years ago. She tried her best to keep Stella in line. And the girls' school where they had placed Stella a couple of years ago was also a very strict one. Too strict as far as Stella was concerned. It was the bad results Stella had had at school which had led to her parents advertising for a governess during summer.

There had been surprisingly many applicants to the post as governess for two months, or eventually longer, who were willing to live with a teenaged girl in a rented cottage nearby Portsmouth. The salary promised was good and they were to have dinner at the hotel in order to diminish the household work and there would, of course, be a woman who would help with the cleaning once a week.

A few of the applicants had been called for an interview. One of them left at once when she heard that she was to have a girl who was aged seventeen. Another was too old to her step-mother's liking. Then there had been Miss Hilton, who was only 22. Stella's parents liked her and Stella found her nice-looking and so close to her own age so she voted for her too.

It was rather embarrassing for Stella, when her step-mother, at a second meeting with Miss Hilton, talked with her about the general behaviour of teenagers and Stella's in particular. She called Stella a tomboy and said she needed somebody who could teach her how to behave properly.

"Since you, Miss Hilton, are rather young I can't be sure if you would be able to handle Stella if a situation arose where there would be a need for sterner measures."

Miss Hilton smiled and looked at Stella, who was listening to their conversation. Then she told her about herself and that she had been brought up rather strictly. She was twenty-years-old when she moved from home to be a teacher at a girls' school on the east coast.

At that time it was less than a year since she had got her last chastisement from her mother. In her work she had had to slipper a few girls, but they had of course been younger than Stella. As she really was in need for work to support herself, she felt confident that she would be capable to handle a seventeen-year-old, as the girl would be her only responsibility. In her class there had been 29 pupils. From her home she really had learnt from her mother what was to the most good for unruly teen-aged girls. Stella knew what elders meant when they talked about "what would be good for teenagers". All grown-ups seemed with those words to be referring to the same thing. It had to do with attending to a certain part of a girl's anatomy.

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted. Two rather pleasant-looking boys with short-cut brown hair stopped almost right in front of her. She felt their eyes looking her over. They stared openly at her trim well-rounded but rather small breasts and her sun-tanned long tapering thighs.

Stella tried to ignore them as she didn't wish them to start a conversation. She inclined her head backwards and shut her eyes, feeling the sun burning in her face.

As she didn't look up, the boys soon splashed away further along the beach in feet-deep water. Stella drew in her breath, and her young apple-formed breasts heaved, pushing out and up, tautening the thin top of her bikini in a way the boys certainly would have liked to have watched. But they had already found a couple of other girls with which they now were fully occupied, trying out their whole register of boyish charm.

Stella wrinkled her nose and looked out over the lake. She saw people of all ages enjoying the water and the warm sunshine.

Stella had bathed enough for today. She became aware of how her watch ticked away. Soon she would have to collect her things and return to the cosy little cottage where she lived with Miss Hilton. She had promised to be back at half-past-four. Her governess expected punctuality, a fact which Stella had been reminded of at several occasions these last days. And Miss Hilton had said that she would have tea ready for them when Stella was back. And after tea... Stella shivered as if she suddenly felt cold. She remembered Miss Hilton's words.

"When you have washed up the dishes after tea I want to see you in our living-room. We will have a couple of hours then before we have to go to the hotel for dinner. It is time for you to learn the error of your ways and decide to try harder to behave more like a grown-up. You know what your parents told me about you. And I want to show you that I fully agree with them!'

At that time, before Miss Hilton left the house in the car and Stella went down to the beach, Stella had been standing in their little living-room red all over her face, and felt both excited and embarrassed at the same time.

Miss Hilton. Stella had to call her so. Her governess was not much older than she. Only 22-years-old and Stella was seventeen. She felt is strange to listen to a girl not more than five years older talking to her in that way and at the same time be aware of what she really meant.

Stella's parents had promised Miss Hilton that she would have their full support in everything she deemed necessary to do in her efforts to take good care of their daughter.

She had better be home in time, Stella thought. She started to pick up all the things she had scattered around her. She brushed the sand off her feet and legs and raised, taking her bag, and leisurely she walked up the huts to change clothes.

At twenty minutes past four she was home. Miss Hilton smiled when she came into the little kitchen where the table was laid for tea. Stella sat down and Miss Hilton poured her a cup and talked about the nice weather they had and how much traffic there had been on the road to Portsmouth. She had come back earlier than she had counted on so she had helped Stella with ironing a couple of her blouses and a skirt. Now she wanted Stella to wear them instead of the gingham summer dress she had on.

Stella went obediently to change her clothes. As she shut the door she looked at the garments which were laid out on her bed. She flushed as she saw them. Her stepmother must have put them in her luggage. It was the things mother wanted her to wear at home during the evenings and week-ends. They were very childish. Mummy wanted her to look younger than she was.

"As long as she behaves as a tomboy she must be dressed as one," her stepmother had explained to her father.

He had just grunted and nodded as he told them that he thought Stella looked lovely.

The real reason was that her stepmother didn't like people to think that she was old enough to have a daughter who was seventeen-years-old. She would have preferred having Stella look like an eight-year-old child. But as she couldn't, she tried to dress Stella to be somewhere in her lower teens instead of in her upper. Some of her mummy's friends really thought Stella was around thirteen or fourteen-years-old instead of her seventeen.

Stella was a little more than medium-height, with narrow hips and a very slim waist. She had girlishly long legs and felt proud of them. Her hair was light-brown, curling round a delicate face with big eyes and almost unusually long lashes. All that made it difficult to make the girl look younger than she was. But with this kind of dress Stella's stepmother found that the girl often seemed to convince people that she was the age she was dressed to look.

The skirt on the bed was light-blue and much too brief. It left more than half of her slender thighs bare. The blouses were two. One white and one light-yellow and both buttoned up to the neck. Stella knew how these blouses stretched across her small breasts, particularly when she felt excited and her breasts pouted out and became firm and she felt that nice tingling round her tits.

There was a tie to match and white knee-length socks and the dark-blue shoes her mother had bought as she couldn't find light-blue ones in the shops where she asked for them.

Reluctantly Stella changed her clothes. There was a package with a set of underclothes which Miss Hilton must have bought for her. They were in soft nylon and light-pink. Stella liked the look of them. They felt smooth and tightfitting against her skin.

"Ready soon," Miss Hilton's voice called through the door. "I'm waiting for you in the living-room. It is ten to five."

"Yes, Miss," answered Stella meekly but loud enough to be heard without opening the door.

Quickly Stella put on her low-heeled shoes and then rose and went to the large mirror on the door to her wardrobe. She looked at herself in the mirror with a defiant expression in her face. She saw a tall long-legged girl dressed like a little schoolgirl. Her brief pleated skirt didn't cover much of her long sun-tanned thighs, and the blouse – the light-yellow one – stretched tight across her now firm and tingling breasts. She felt strangely excited as she looked at herself dressed like this. It would be the first time Miss Hilton saw her as her mother liked to have her dressed since she first had started to buy these kind of clothes for her about two years ago.

Since then she often had to show herself like this to her stepmother and her friends in their home in Wimbledon. And also at some other occasions, when her mummy had something quite else in mind when Stella had been a naughty girl.

Slowly and a little embarrassed she went into the living-room. Miss Hilton was standing at the larger of the two windows through which the sun still was shining brightly.

"There you are, Stella," she exclaimed as she looked at her seventeen-year-young protegee. "You really look just charming, dressed like that. They will certainly like to look at you at the hotel tonight."

Stella winced and her cheeks flushed.

"Oh no, Miss. Not there. Not like this. I'll be so ashamed. Don't have me go there in these clothes, Miss."

"Why not, Stella? You must of course have nylon stockings on as it is evening instead of these childish knee-socks. But I can assure you that everyone will think you are one of the prettiest girls they have ever seen."

Then her voice got sharper.

"You must remember not to talk back. Little girls who talk back must get spanked you know. You will have to learn to be more obedient just as a child should be. And you now really look like a little child, my dear."

Stella bent her head and pursed her lips as she didn't want Miss Hilton to get more angry than she already had been a few days.

"Now let me show you what I have bought just for you today, my sweet little girl. I suppose you liked your new underclothes and you have them on. But here I have something else. I think you know what it is? Perhaps your parents have one at home."

She produced a length of yellow rattan bent like a walking-stick at one end. She swished it through the air a couple of times. The sound it made sent a shiver through Stella's slim body.

"Yes," she whispered reluctantly. "Mummy has one. It's a cane, Miss."

"Good," smiled Miss Hilton. "I'll let you have this one today. It is just so springy and so thin as I like canes to be."

She put it back among the brown papers on the settee and held up a strap of brown polished leather with two tails. As she let is swing up and down, she asked Stella if her mother also had one like that.

"Yes, mummy has a tawse. It is just like that one," Stella panted.

"Very good. We will see if you will have to feel it where it does you the most good some other time. Here I have something else. The lady in the shop told me it is very useful for wilful young girls in their upper teens.''

Miss Hilton held it up and Stella looked at it with her eyes wide open. It was something she had never seen before.

"It comes from France," Miss Hilton explained calmly. From the hands here are five of these rounded straps. "They are genuine leather. She told me it was a very common implement used when girls in France are disobedient. Even if you only get five whacks with it you will have twenty-five stripes across your bottom. I was told, it always should be used on the bare bottom. It can be used for milder punishments instead of spanking a girl with the hand, as the lady said to me."

"It looks awful," gasped Stella with a look of respect in her eyes.

"Yes, and I hope I'll not have to use any one of these except the cane you are going to have now. It is up to you. Today I'm going to let you have ten with the cane."

"Oooh nooo, nooo, Miss Hilton. Please. Not ten," Stella pleaded. "It will hurt too much."

Miss Hilton raised one finger warningly and Stella pursed her lips at once. She looked anxiously down holding both hands clasping at her brief childish little skirt, as if she wanted to protect herself. Miss Hilton picked up the slender pliable cane instead. Then she gripped the young defiant girl round her upper arm and led her to the settee.

"I want you to bend over this arm and lie down like an obedient little girl," she said tersely. "You can put your head into the cushion if you want to. You will be free to kick with your legs as much as you like. I think it will be easier for you if you can kick and scream, when I use the cane as it has to be used to a naughty girl. Now, Stella, will you obey or must I add a couple of more whacks to your punishment?"

Miss Hilton touched Stella's bare thighs below her brief skirt with the cane as a reminder of what the young girl had coming.

Stella hastened to obey. She bent over and lay down across the arm of the settee. Her tummy and upper parts of her thighs rested against the hard clothed arm and her hands found the cushion. She buried her head in it shivering and breathing hard. Her legs were stretched out downwards with the toes of her shoes resting on the floor.

She really felt anxious now. More anxious than when her stepmother used to chastise her at home. Her governess was so young, not more than a girl a few years older than she was. And yet she seemed to be so strict so she had to be obeyed. And then, Mummy seldom let her have more than six or eight.

Stella held her eyes tightly closed and her face deep down in the cushion. She didn't have to see. She felt everything that Miss Hilton did. Hands folded up her skirt above her waist. Stella wriggled a little as she felt strangely excited as she knew she was showing Miss Hilton her bare thighs all the way up and her bottom tightly enclosed in her new thin and tightfitting nylon knickers. She trembled all through her body in anticipation as her governess was making her ready to be punished.

"These knickers are really nice," Miss Hilton said as she slapped the girl a couple of times on her nylon-clad behind. "I bought them a little small for you to have them rather tight round your bottom. But I think we will have to get them up a little." Her fingers grasped at the elastic waistband and pulled her knickers up so they were really taut across Stella's bottom. Stella knew that she had almost half of her bottom bare.

"Now, Stella. I told you it would be ten. Prepare yourself. You know this will hurt."

Stella's thin knickers didn't protect her at all. She felt the pain burning across her buttocks as the first whack splatted down and the cane made its first white reddening line in the pale skin inside her knickers where her body hadn't been tanned by the sun. She let out a muffled cry and pressed her thighs tightly together and tensed her bottom hard.

The next whack, about ten seconds later, made its welt a little below the first and Stella cried out again and wriggled her hips in agony. Still lower down she felt the third, burning her skin but now she had been better prepared and she tried not to yelp but she wriggled and kicked scissoring with her legs in the air.

There was a pause and her governess told her not to wriggle too much and Stella just hid her face deep down in the cushion.

Almost half a minute later the cane fell across the middle of her bottom-cheeks and Stella only gasped though the cane still hurt just as much as before. Number five swished across her thighs and this time she cried out in a shrill voice.

"No, please nooo, Miss. Not there. Not on my thighs. I don't want marks there. Please," she snivelled pleadingly.

As the cane continued to fall Stella cried out loud for each whack she got. Seven and nine both fell across her thighs and the ninth was worse as the cane curled round her right thigh and did hurt more than the others.

After the last one Stella cried and wept still lying bent over the arm of the settee. Miss Hilton put the cane away and stood looking down at the weeping girl's well-rounded knicker-clad bottom. Through the thin nylon she could see the welts the cane had made in her flesh. On the bare parts of her buttocks the welts were like reddish double-lines right across both her trembling cheeks. They were longer on the right side than on the left. And then there was one which seemed to leap round her thigh longer than the rest of them. It had formed an ugly welt on the outside of the thigh. Stella's whole bottom was red and the three stripes below her bottom looked worse than those across the buttocks.

"You can stop crying now, Stella. You have had your punishment. Let us hope it is the only one I need give you. Stand up and you will find you will soon fell better. You can stay in your room if you like. I'll tell you when it is time for dinner at the hotel."

Stella closed the door to her room. She needed to be alone for a while. She tried to dry her wet cheeks with her knuckles and went to stand in front of her mirror. She hoisted her skirt and pulled knickers down to mid-thigh. With her back turned she looked over her shoulder to see her backside in the mirror. Her face formed an agonising grin. She looked at the red welts across her trim little bottom and knew they would last at least a full day or two. She wouldn't even be able to wear shorts as the cane had marked her down across the backs of her thighs. Those marks would show well below the brief shorts she had. She would have to choose slacks or jeans. If she was careful she might have one of her short skirts and try to remember not to bend over but to kneel down instead, if she wanted to pick something up from the floor or the ground.

But Stella knew it could have been worse. Miss Hilton had been rather soft on her. Stella had known occasions when her stepmother had been much stricter. Now not more than ten, fifteen minutes after, it hardly felt at all.

She rested lying on her bed for half an hour or a little more. Then she remembered what her governess had told her about nylon stockings.

She had put on her suspender-belt and her stockings and it was when she should fasten the stocking on the outside of her right thigh. She felt how sore she was where she held her fingers. Of course it had to be right under the strap. She tried to fasten it but just before she went out from her room she unhooked it and let the strap hang inside her little childish skirt.

Miss Hilton smiled at her when she came into the living-room. Stella looked a little demured as she stood by the round table and looked down not really knowing what to say.

Her governess then asked her how she felt and Stella wrinkled her nose a little and, blushing, she told her that she was all right. But she had a mark on her thigh where she was sore and couldn't fasten her suspender-strap across it.

"Yes, I know where it is, Stella," Miss Hilton said. "You wriggled a little too much and I couldn't help that the cane made you sore there. Let me see if I can help you."

Miss Hilton held the girl standing by her chair and lifted her short skirt at the side. She looked at the hanging suspender-strap.

"Oh, you have a nasty mark there, Stella. But you can't have the strap loose. You will have to grit your teeth and hope it will heal soon, I'm afraid."

A few minutes before eight o'clock they went into the dining-room at the hotel. A lot of eyes followed them as they slowly made their way over to their table. Stella was blushing as she knew that they were all looking at her childish dress and particularly at her very brief skirt and her long shapely legs and thighs. She felt embarrassed and at the table she tried desperately to hide her legs under the table-cloth.

Miss Hilton looked at her smiling and told her that she didn't have to be ashamed.

"They just like to look at you. All of them think you are pretty. There is nothing wrong with being a pretty girl, is there? There is nobody who knows that you have marks from my cane on your nice little behind. You only need to sit still and smile. I hope the chair isn't too hard for you to sit on, or is it?"

"Oh no," Stella whispered. "It is quite comfortable. But please don't talk about that. Someone might hear what you say."

"You are right, my child," the governess said in a lower voice. "I'm not going to tell them. I do think you will be a very nice and well-behaved lady soon."

"Yes, miss. I'll do my best," Stella promised. "But please. Can't you let me have my other dress at dinner. It is so embarrassing when they all look at me as they still do."

"In a couple of days, perhaps," her governess answered sounding a little more stern again. "You know, I'll have to see first if you really are trying to behave."

Stella winced a little where she was sitting on her chair and made a grimace.

"Oh no, Stella. That's not what a girl would do if she wants to be treated like a grown-up."

As the waiter appeared at their table and began to serve them, they had dinner quietly and talked only about everyday topics. After a while Stella got used to sitting in the dining-room in her childish dress and almost forgot about the other guests' occasionally staring eyes.

When they left the hotel, there were several of the elderly gentlemen who smiled at them and bowed as they passed, and one held the door open to them and said that as he had seen them at dinner before he hoped that they would come back several times.

"Pretty ladies always make a dining-room less dull than when it is filled only with old people."

* * *

That summer with her governess became a cherished memory for Stella. Still more than ten years later she sometimes liked to remember this particular day. The first day she was punished by her governess and she had to wear her childish dress at the hotel. But she remembered the rest of the summer too. The whole arrangement had really been to her best. Miss Hilton had proved to be an excellent teacher at Stella's school-subjects. The next year Stella had passed her A-level test very much to her parents' surprise. Stella was very thankful to her governess for that.

Miss Hilton had visited their home rather often during a couple of years and been a good friend to the whole family. Stella had never complained about the two months they had spent together in the little cottage where Stella had been kept under strict surveillance by Miss Hilton. Stella had been chastised almost every week at least once by the governess. Miss Hilton had most liked to use the martinet and Stella had been taken over her lap many times. Almost always it had been with her skirt up and knickers down. Afterwards she had to have dinner at the hotel in her childish dress and there they had been very popular among the guests and almost all of them wanted them to sit at their table. Stella also learnt to find it more exciting than embarrassing to have been seen dressed as a very young childish teenager and nobody was ever told that she was seventeen-years-old.


  1. That was a superb story, written brilliantly and with a certain sensitivity avoiding vulgar descriptions. MF

  2. I really like this story, I used to love the old mags, the writing always seemed more plausable than many today. Thank you
    Regards dave