London Mistress Sapphire – Governess Story 1 – written by Mistress Sapphire
‘Leave the birch there young man, I am sure I’ll have need of it again very soon.’ You were on your knees, kissing the hand of your Governess and thanking her for the thrashing she had just given you. Could anything possibly be more humiliating than kissing the hand that moments before had wielded a well-soaked birch rod, applying it with force and precision to your bare backside. And yet, you had to admit to yourself, both punishment and humiliation was well deserved, as always.
You had a lot of respect for Governess Sapphire. She had always been very severe but very fair. She had never ever punished you simply on a whim, or because she was in a bad mood. Looking back over the years she had been with your family, you could not remember a single occasion when you had been beaten for something you had not done. On the other hand, she somehow always seemed to know when you had been guilty of some offence, no matter how much you fibbed and wriggled to evade justice. You never got away with anything. ‘Be sure your sins will find you out,’ was a favourite quotation of hers. Somehow yours always were.
The thrashings you received at her hands had got progressively more severe as you grew older. When you were younger, it seemed as though you spent half your life over her knee, getting your bottom well tanned and then being sent straight to bed. To be honest, you hadn’t minded too much. It was almost worth getting a spanking, because afterwards she would always take you in her arms as you shed a few tears, then rub soothing cream into your burning bottom and murmur soothing words in your ear as you drifted off to sleep.
Now, you were brought sharply back to the real world as she said, ‘Go and fetch me a strap young man, and sharp about it.’ She had so many it was hard to know which one she wanted. The other week you had tried to be clever and fetched her a lightweight one, only for her to hand it back with a knowing smile and send you for a heavier one. But she kept the light one as well and you got twelve strokes with each. You would not try that on again.
This time you chose a thick black leather strap, heavy and supple, that you knew to be a favourite of hers. And as you presented it to her and looked into her dark eyes, you both wordlessly acknowledged that this was because of what had happened last week. She didn’t say anything, there was no need to. You had learned your lesson and she was pleased with you. Unfortunately, that did not mean that she would be any less severe.
‘Now, over the bench young man,’ she said. And you dutifully obeyed, assuming her preferred position with your bare bottom raised high. Your punishment began, and every time the heavy strap landed with a crack on your bare flesh you heard yourself counting aloud: ‘One ma’am, thank you ma’am, two ma’am, thank you ma’am’ …. until all 15 strokes had been administered. Idly, despite your pain, you wondered at what age you would at last be considered too old to be punished in this way. Not too soon, you hoped, as your backside turned to fiery globes and you looked forward to a liberal application of soothing cream from those expert hands……..
