Letters to My Governess


The correspondence began here.

My Dear Miss Carlisle,

I scarcely know where to begin. As I commit pen to paper I blush so wildly that I fear my very face will quite melt away. I could die every time I think on all that Mary was party to and since Saturday that minx has scarce kept the smirk from her face.

I knew I could expect some correction from the moment you arrived. You were quite stern with me and at the risk of repeating myself I could have died when you asked Mary to fetch the hall brush from its stand by the front door and bring it to the parlour. You were still scolding me for my previous indelicacy when she returned and I could beg the Lord that she did not follow all that you said. I know bear witness that truly a girl cannot die of shame since if that were possible I would be already be ensconced in the churchyard.

Then when you… I feel so giddy at these words… when you asked Mary to help turn up and in place my skirts I almost fainted. Could you not have managed that task without aid? You cannot possibly imagine my feelings at being sent to the corner with every one of my skirts and petticoat hems pinned at my waist while my draws were sent to my ankles in a puddle at my feet. I know we are all women but to stand like a child displaying ones naked posterior to one and all is beyond shame.

Then I can scarcely believe that you calmly ordered some tea and took a prominent seat while I stood exposed and ignored. How long did I stand there? It seemed like days and I think back to your letter.

At the end I was a humbled nervous wreck, no doubt your intent, but why oh why did you allow Mary to remain when you put me across your knee? You teased me when I hid my face, but I could not help it.

The flat side of the brush, when it finally landed, was like a hot iron that both stung like bees and ached like a persistent dull bruise. No doubt my eyes were on stalks and I know I did not retain any decorum. I was quickly a bawling baby while Mary all but giggled at my predicament. I am in awe of your technique. You so took me beyond my endurance that I went from being mortified at my own maid witnessing my spanking to not caring if every gentleman of the county were present, if only it would stop. Then just as I could break you allow me to regain enough of myself to remember where I am and who watches me. Shame and pain a devilish pendulum to put me in my place.

Eventually, some eons later it seemed, in copious floods of tears I humbly apologised and thanked you on my knees for the favour of such a very, very sound spanking; all this in front of Mary. My return to that hated corner was as a mortifying experience I ever had. I remember you ordered more tea while I dared not move. It was such a filthy and long afternoon. I still wonder if I shall ever sit down again.

Yours very, very humbly


To be continued…

4 Responses to “Letters to My Governess”

  1. So good to read the continuing sage of “Letters to My Governess” many thanks

  2. 3 Richard

    I have been missing these and now I find two consecutive instalments! I think this is my favourite so far. Keep it up!

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