Over the Knee (21 page)

Her velvety Southern voice was made for scolding. She had definitely missed her calling.

‘Your lapses in etiquette make you look bad, young lady, but they make me look worse. You know this very well, so I’m forced to assume it’s deliberate.’

A nervous laugh fluttered at the back of my throat and I fought to swallow it down.

She saw the struggle in my face. ‘There’s nothing to smile about,’ she said coldly and waited for me to get
myself
under control. ‘Do you have anything to say for yourself?’

‘Erm …’

‘Don’t mumble! And look at me when I’m speaking to you.’

I straightened up. ‘I … suppose I just … forgot myself,’ I said. ‘Miss.’

Courtney arched one eyebrow. ‘You forgot? I see. So you need a reminder, do you?’

‘No, miss.’

‘Oh, but clearly you do if you’re forgetting my etiquette lessons so completely.’

‘I didn’t forget, I just …’

She gave me an icy smile. ‘Just chose to disregard my teaching so as to embarrass your father, is that it?’

I protested again, but she cut me off. ‘Your father employed me because you didn’t have the discipline to be allowed to go away to finishing school. He expects me to instil that discipline, and your behaviour last night shows how much you need it.’

‘But I –’

Courtney raised one slender finger and I shut my mouth instantly.

‘Over my lap.’

‘But miss, it’s so undignified,’ I protested.

‘Punishment isn’t meant to be dignified. If you had behaved you would have retained your dignity. But when you act like a petulant child you will be treated like a petulant child. Now if you don’t place yourself over my lap you will suffer the further indignity of being hauled across it.’

Suddenly, the stuffy schoolroom felt like a meat locker as the chill of erotic fear overwhelmed me. I stepped to her side and stretched out across her shapely thighs. I gazed at the grain in the floorboards, pressing my fingertips to them. Her lap was soft and yielding, so unlike a man’s.

Courtney’s hand rested lightly on my bottom and gave it a gentle pat. Then she flipped up my tartan skirt. She
slipped
my knickers down and a delicious shiver ran down the stepping-stones of my spine.

‘Naughty little girls,’ she purred, ‘need to be taught how to behave, don’t they?’

‘Yes, miss,’ I whispered.

Her cool hand descended on my bare bottom, caressing it in slow circles, savouring its smooth whiteness.

‘When girls act in vulgar ways, they disgrace not only themselves, but also their families.’

Her mellifluous words were so eloquent and proper. And I knew without being told that they were words she’d heard before, probably from some Southern belle governess of her own. The authenticity made me blush and I surrendered to her firm ladylike admonition.

‘I’m sorry that it’s come to this,’ she said and I could almost believe the wistful tone in her voice. ‘But you’ve brought it on yourself. You’ve had this spanking coming for a long time and now you’re going to take it.’

‘Yes, miss,’ I said, my voice so soft I doubted whether she even heard me.

‘What a sweet little bottom you have,’ she murmured. ‘So round and delicate.’

The soft hand lifted from my skin and seemed to hang suspended in the air forever before coming down on my bottom with a loud smack. I gave a small mouselike squeak. Another smack, another little yip. Another and another and another. It didn’t hurt, but that made it even harder to endure. She was treating me like a very little girl indeed. The embarrassment warmed me like a fever as she smacked me briskly and thoroughly. Her soft hands didn’t neglect the tops of my thighs, either, and I kicked feebly at the low smacks.

‘Blatant disobedience,’ she chided affectionately. ‘And what has it earned you, young lady? A good sound spanking.’ A harder volley of swats punctuated her words and I began to yelp in earnest.

I imagined my bottom growing pink under her ministrations. Pink and then red. Now it was starting to hurt. It was nothing like as hard as Peter spanked me, but her words were exquisitely humbling.

At last she stopped and I whimpered softly, wriggling a little over her lap. The warm glow in my backside was slightly comforting, matching the flush in my throat and face. She urged me up with a sharp swat and I struggled gracelessly to my feet, too embarrassed to look at her. I stood before her, rubbing my bottom. When I reached down to pull my knickers up she stopped me.

‘No, leave them down. I’m not finished with you, little miss.’

I wilted.

‘If you think that’s all your little performance last night has earned you, you’re sorely mistaken.’

Now I was really worried. I looked up at her fearfully.

‘Your mother’s hairbrush,’ she said. ‘The one on the dresser. Bring it here.’

For a second I was puzzled. Then I remembered. The antique ebony one on the dresser in the master bedroom.

‘At once!’

I scurried to obey, my legs hobbled by the panties that clung round my knees. I couldn’t bear the humiliation of shuffling down the corridor like that and I hesitated in the doorway and cast a pleading look back at her.

‘I don’t care if the servants do see you,’ she said frostily. ‘Now if you don’t fetch it this minute I will call the parlour maid in to horse you on her back while I spank you.’

One couldn’t help but admire her exquisite cruelty.

Out on the landing, I glanced around nervously as though the butler might appear at any moment and see me bare-bottomed. I hurried to the master bedroom, afraid to keep Courtney waiting too long.

I had seen the hairbrush lying there so many times, looking so innocent. Just another authentic prop in the eighteenth-century house. But as I picked it up I felt its heft. I smacked it against my palm, startled by its potency. It was a fearsome implement, belied by its Victorian gentility.

With shaky sweaty hands, I crept back into the schoolroom and presented it to my governess, nearly dropping it in my nervousness.

Courtney took it from me with the barest hint of a smile. She stood up and set the hairbrush down on the chair. ‘I think we’ll have a little deportment lesson while your bottom is still nice and pink. Then we can see about driving the message home with the hairbrush.’

‘Yes, miss,’ I groaned, not knowing what else to say.

She took a large book from the shelf and tested its weight in her open palm. Then she raised it above me and gently lowered it down on to my head.

Anticipating her, I adjusted my stance to keep my head level.

She let go of the book and I felt it wobble slightly. I reached up to steady it and she smacked the back of my wrist with a dainty flick of her fingers.

‘Hands at your sides.’ She circled me, inspecting my posture. ‘Let’s see that naughty red bottom,’ she said, lifting up my skirt and tucking it into the waistband.

I bit my lip, turning scarlet at the feeing of exposure.

Satisfied at last, my beautiful tormentor nodded towards the far corner of the room. ‘There and back,’ she said.

I gulped. It seemed a mile. And having my skirt up and my knickers round my knees only enhanced my disgrace. I took one hesitant step, trying to hold my head perfectly still. So far, so good. Another step and I felt the book shift slightly to one side. I tilted my head so it wouldn’t fall and had to fight to keep my hands away. But as I lifted my foot to take another step the book slid off and thudded heavily to the floor.

Courtney tutted and shook her head. She retrieved the book and placed it back on my head. ‘Again.’

This time I made it halfway across the room before the book began to slide. I held my arms out like a tightrope walker, tilting my head at an absurd angle to avoid the inevitable. The pages flapped noisily as I tried to save the book from falling. But I fumbled it and it fell to the floor in an undignified heap.

I raised my eyes to my governess. She merely shook her head, her lips pursed. ‘Disgraceful.’

I stared forlornly at the book.

‘It’s no use sulking, young lady,’ she said with supreme disdain. ‘You’ve brought this on yourself. It’s little wonder you behave like a barbarian at the dinner table when you haven’t even learnt to walk as a lady should.’

Her belittling tone made me feel like a spoilt child and I scowled at the floor.

She picked up the hairbrush and stroked its glossy back. ‘But I intend to correct that. Now you will ask me if I will be pleased to give you the spanking you deserve.’

‘Nooo!’ I wailed. I couldn’t help it; she’d regressed me to a childlike state and it was impossible to react like an adult.

An oppressive silence followed my outburst. ‘Angela,’ she said, twisting the knife.

I stiffened on hearing my full name. Then I stamped my foot. ‘No,’ I insisted with a pout.

Courtney crossed her arms over her chest and looked at me. ‘I’m very disappointed in you,’ she said. ‘Now I’ll have to tell your father that you threw a temper tantrum. I expect he’ll put you over his knee himself and redden your little bottom and put you to bed without any supper. Then, when you’re ready to accept your discipline, you can come to me and ask me politely to punish you.’

I burnt with shame and dropped my eyes to the floor. Her words were an auger, skewering my dignity and shaming me beyond endurance. Desperate to stop her honeyed torture, I gave in.

I took a long shuddering breath. ‘Please, miss,’ I began.

‘Look at me.’

Reluctantly, I lifted my head. ‘Please, miss. Please give me a spanking.’

‘The spanking you deserve,’ she corrected.

I shaped my mouth around the words and somehow managed to speak them. ‘Yes, miss. Please give me the spanking I deserve, miss.’

She smacked the brush against her hand, harder than I had done. I winced. ‘Good girl. Back over my lap, then.’

I practically collapsed into position.

She pressed the cool wood against my burning skin and I closed my eyes, bracing myself. Smoothing it over my
bottom
, she continued to rebuke me, speaking in a stern but gentle voice that was maddening in its kindness.

The first stroke fell at last and I arched wildly on her lap, crying out at the pain. This was no soft ladylike palm. She gave me no time to recover before giving me the next one. Scolding me all the while, she peppered my bottom smartly with brisk little smacks. The startling density of the hairbrush elicited unseemly howls and cries from me as I kicked and writhed in vain.

I found myself pleading like a naughty child. ‘Oh! I’m sorry, miss, I’m – oww! – really sorry! I promise I won’t – oh! I won’t do it again, miss! Please …’

But she ignored my pleas and spanked me harder, covering every inch of my backside with sure strokes. My knickers inched their way down my legs as I struggled. I tried to keep them from slipping off, but the hairbrush was too intense. I couldn’t focus on anything but the pain and before I knew it they were dangling from one ankle and then they were off entirely.

By the time Courtney slowed her rhythm and stopped I was willing to promise her anything. I sagged with relief. It felt like she’d taken off a layer of skin.

‘There, now,’ she cooed. ‘Have we learnt not to be a naughty girl?’

Her words were almost more painful than the hairbrush had been, but I nodded frantically. ‘Yes, miss.’

Courtney leant down to her left to place the hairbrush on the floor beside my hands. I stared at it, amazed at its power. I would never underestimate it again. Then, wickedly, she trailed her fingertips over my punished bottom. She pressed her manicured nails into my flesh and drew them down over my rounded cheeks, making me squeal.

I heard her soft laughter and felt even more humbled.

‘Up with you,’ she said at last, urging me up with a mild smack.

I scrambled to my feet. My hands, chilled from pressing into the floorboards, felt heavenly against the scorching glow of my bottom.

‘Now you’ll show me a nice curtsey and thank me for your punishment,’ she prompted.

Shifting my weight from foot to foot in humiliation, I made myself meet her eyes. With my knickers before me on the floor like evidence of my naughtiness, I dropped an awkward curtsey. But she stopped me before I could speak the awful words.

‘Oh, dear me,’ she said, shaking her head sadly. ‘We haven’t even learnt how to curtsey properly.’

I pleaded with my eyes for her to stop the torment, though every little reproach made me squirm in delicious misery.

‘How do you ever expect to be presented at court if you don’t trouble yourself to practise what I teach you? Watch.’ Gathering her skirt, Courtney placed one foot behind her with the grace of a ballerina. She lowered her head demurely and dipped her body in a sweeping
grande reverence
until she was almost kneeling. She stood up again and gestured that it was my turn.

I tried to copy what she had done, but I lost my balance and faltered.

My governess was unimpressed. She wore her displeasure like a sovereign’s mantle and I imagined the horror of stumbling like that at the feet of Queen Victoria.

Blushing furiously, I tried again, this time with more success if with little elegance.

‘Better.’

At her expectant look I forced the hateful words out. ‘Thank you, miss, for punishing me.’ Then I squeezed my eyes shut and bowed my head, praying the lesson was over.

‘Very good,’ Courtney drawled, sounding genuinely pleased. ‘Then I expect to see your manners much improved.’

‘Yes, miss.’

She gazed at me, her sternness dissipating. I blushed, uncertain whether the roleplay was over or not. I desperately wanted my knickers back now. I felt so exposed. Mostly because I could feel how wet I was and I feared she would see it.

‘Is it very sore?’ she asked with a playful grin.

‘Uh-huh’ was all I could manage.

‘Let’s see.’

I turned around so she could examine her handiwork. Her long fingers traced the redness, making me shiver. They trailed over my tender backside and along my thighs, slipping down to the delicate undercurve. My legs tensed as her thumbs crept further in and she parted my cheeks with gentle pressure. I gasped, but I remained absolutely still, unwilling to do anything to break the moment.