The Young Governess (2 page)

Kate had felt alarmed, excited, and somehow not a little grown-up to be witnessing all this. But what came next caused an entirely different group of emotions to flow through her already confused young mind. After only a few minutes, Joss pushed Rosie down onto the bed of grass and Kate could see that Rosie’s fingers were parting the petals of her sex and that – oh no! – Joss had lowered his head between her thighs until he was… kissing her down there! Kate could clearly hear the liquid sounds that his tongue was making as he licked and lapped her for a few moments more, Rosie giving loud moans of pleasure. There was a further change of positions and now Rosie’s lover was placing the purple, bell-shaped end of his ‘John Thomas’ – now grown even larger and stiffer -into that tender part of her anatomy, and with a great thrust of his loins, drove it in to its very roots. Rosie gave a great shriek and Kate winced in sympathy for the poor girl who was obviously horribly injured by violence that this callous youth had done to her.

It seemed there was to be no end to the number of surprises given to Kate that day; far from continuing to scream in pain, a look of pure rapture transformed the older girl’s features. And, while he thrust and thrust like a madman, Rosie would caress Joss’s head and mutter endearments to him in a sweet tone of voice. Far from hurt, what she was experiencing was obviously the greatest of pleasures as she alternated her wails of passion (for now Kate recognised them as such) with strange uncouth-sounding grunts and exhortations that meant little to her unseen observer.

“Oh, Joss, you’re fucking me! You’re fucking me! Unggghhh! Fuck me, fuck me harder for I will spend soon… keep fucking my cunt you great brute, you lovely lad… ohhh your beautiful cock is so big it’s fair killing me!”

But Joss was unable to comply with her wishes. Kate saw him suddenly jump up to kneel and as he did so, extract his ‘cock’ that was all shiny and wet from its recent foray, give it a few squeezes with his fist and groan loudly as spurt after spurt of thick, milky-white liquid issued from its engorged tip (Kate had seen stallions urinating, but this was quite different, she thought). The thick, creamy liquid spattered Rosie’s belly and even the underside of her big, pink-nippled breasts. Her hand flew to her sex, all angry, red and gaping from its recent ordeal and worked it with a speed and violence that again shook the virginal Kate to the core, for in no time Rosie was quivering and shuddering, all pink in the face and upper chest and wailing like a banshee.

For a few moments they lay together, limbs entwined, and then Rosie started to rub the sticky pools of Joss’s mysterious white liquid into her breasts and over her belly, laughing softly, throatily. She coated her fingers in the slimy stuff and brought them to her mouth, sucking each dripping digit in turn with a look of intense lust on her face.

“Mmm… you taste good, Joss. I like to have your warm, creamy spunk in my mouth. I’ll suck you off any time you like, but you know that, don’t you just, you rascal!”

For the first time, Kate became aware of a smell, a warm, musky smell that was unlike any other of the human body’s odours she was familiar with. Her nostrils flared and a prickle of excitement seemed to electrify her most sensitive body parts, a tingling and quivering quickened her senses. It seemed to her the most exotic, seductive and mysterious of perfumes, and from then on, whenever she encountered it again, she would always recognise it as the smell of sex and it would have the same aphrodisiac effect upon her as it did now. Only now she was still quite ignorant of why her body was responding in this way.

Kate sat quietly in her hiding place, her mind in uproar. So this was how men and women created their progeny! It was so… bestial, she thought. And yet, it had stirred some deep emotions within her and before she knew what she was doing, her hand stole between her thighs and felt her own, less mature sex. To her horror it was all wet! But surely – she had not lost control of her bladder, nor was it her time of month? What could it be? She brought her fingers to her mouth and tasted and smelled what was on her fingers… it was familiar and yet, different. It was slightly sweet and not unpleasant and once more she felt curiously grown-up. It was a rite of passage; the quintessential moment where childhood seemed to recede and adult life strongly beckon.

Tentatively she rubbed her own sex as she had seen Rosie doing. It was all slippery and felt almost indecently good. Now she looked at the thick tube of flesh that lay across Joss’s thigh, no longer stiff, no longer threatening and thought she would like to take its pink head (which now seemed to have retreated under a thin covering of skin, although she was fascinated to see that she could still make out its contour) in her own mouth and caress it with her tongue, just as she had seen Rosie doing. Kate even felt an irrational jealousy of the older girl’s experience. For the first time she became aware of a fleshy, wrinkled bag under Joss’s softening sex that seemed to bulge with two spherical objects, and that, too, was fascinating to her. She rubbed her sex again, her middle finger now easily slipping into the slick groove between her excited, swelling labia. All sorts of wonderful, but unfamiliar sensations coursed through her body, centring in that critical spot where her thighs met her belly.

There was a noise in the distance and the couple had quickly left, dragging on their clothes and disappearing from her line of sight. A man and his dog came by, the reason for their swift departure.

Kate left her hiding place as soon as she was decently able to. Gathering up her long skirts, she ran all the way back to her house where, as usual, her father was reading and writing, deep in his books. But her heart lifted when she saw Mrs Proctor in the kitchen making bread, her sleeves rolled up and a floury apron protecting her dark dress.

Kate was bursting with things to say and ask, but did not know quite where to begin.

“Have you been birdsnesting again, young lady?”

Kate flushed pink and looked guilty.

“How did you know?”

Mrs Proctor looked up from her kneading, mildly surprised.

“I didn’t, really – you often come back with a nest or an egg to show me. But you look upset, young Katie. Is everything alright?”

The note of gentle concern in Mrs Proctor’s voice triggered a violent reaction from Kate, who sat down on a kitchen chair and started to weep uncontrollably, her shoulders heaving with emotion. Between gradually diminishing sobs, she recounted all that she had just seen to the kindly housekeeper who placed a floury, maternal arm around her.

“Well now, child, I expect that they’ll be getting married soon and that what you saw just showed how much they loved one another and just couldn’t wait for their wedding day.

There live no birds,
however bright or plain,
But rear a brood
to take their place again.

They’ll be rearing a brood together, soon enough, I’ll wager.”

Kate thought Mrs Proctor sounded rather unconvinced, however, and waited for her to continue.

“But there again maybe they were just enjoying being young,” and here she sighed heavily, “because, Lord knows, I used to love playing their game when my Jack was alive.”

She looked down comfortingly at Kate and gave her a reassuring hug.

“Your turn will come soon enough, Katie my pet. Why, in a year or two you’ll be a fine young lady and ripe for marriage, to be sure. And when you find your husband you will have all those bodily and spiritual delights married life brings with it.”

“And will my husband put his John Thomas, his cock, into my cunt? And will he fuck me like Joss fucked Rosie?”

Mrs Proctor winced slightly and coloured, and Kate was surprised to see that she looked mildly discomfited.

“Why yes, my darling, no doubt he will, but you must not say those words to any but your dearest, for they are words that only lovers use between one another. Now then, child, be off with you, for you have learned far more today than I could ever tell you of the matter.” And she gave Kate another hug and gently pushed her out into the kitchen garden to gather some broad beans for supper. Over the next weeks and months, Kate learned all she needed to know from Mrs Proctor, even as to why the feelings of pleasure that she had experienced by her own hand came back to taunt her again and again when she was alone in bed at night. Kate never returned to the little bower in the hedgerow. But in her mind she would often revisit that place and secretly spy upon Joss and Rosie as they took their pleasure with one another, and her hands would feverishly seek out those places that would bring her a very similar pleasure until she drifted off to sleep, her dreams full of a dark, good-looking young suitors and their hard, penetrating cocks.

* * * * *

So when Mr Belfont had suggested that matrimony might be the best career for her, Kate had heartily agreed. It was indeed her desire to marry, and to marry well, too. She rather thought that a handsome young man, preferably wealthy and titled, would do rather well (although possibly good looks and wealth alone would be enough). It so happened that an old comrade from university, Sir Bradley Fordham, had written to Mr Belfont about an entirely different matter and had, by way of digression, mentioned that he and his wife Alice were seeking a governess for their daughter, Eleanor. Mr Belfont had written back post haste to suggest Miss Spencer for the position. Apparently the recommendation of an old varsity friend won the day, and the pretty young orphan was now on her way to a new life with, as Mr Belfont had put it, ‘some thoroughly decent people’.

“How much further to Walthrop?” Kate asked.

The older coachman half turned in his seat to face his passenger and smiled indulgently at the note of impatience in her voice.

“Oh, only a couple of miles, Miss. Should be there in no time now.”

The carriage drew up at the lodge gates of Walthrop House. A cheerful, fat, gatekeeper’s wife emerged from the lodge to swing the heavy gates back and allow them to continue the last stage of their journey up a long, gently curving drive, lined with dark green laurels and tall, graceful deciduous trees. Half apprehensive, half excited, Kate gave a little gasp of delight as they rounded the drive’s last bend to see the elegant, golden façade of Walthrop House, a fine eighteenth century villa set in carefully tended parkland.

Moments later in the front hall the new governess was being greeted warmly by her future employers, Sir Bradley and Lady Fordham and their daughter, Eleanor. The coachmen, housekeeper and maids busied themselves with the new arrival’s luggage.

* * * * *

After all the necessary introductions and arrangements had been made, Kate was taken on a tour of the house and gardens by Eleanor. She was a pretty, instantly likeable young girl, only too eager to make the best possible impression on her new governess. As the shadows lengthened on the immaculately kept lawns behind the house, Kate began to warm to the charming sixteen-year-old, who, although not the sharpest knife in the box, had as lively and affectionate a nature as anyone’s she’d ever met.

Young Eleanor was petite. She had a typical ‘English rose’ fair complexion with an appealing face and sweet, sincere expression. Her nose was slightly retroussé and her hair was blonde and wavy, and grew almost down to her waist. Her bosom was not yet completely formed, but showed promise, Kate thought, and in any case, it complimented her girlish figure. As they entered a walled kitchen garden, in a gesture of unassuming friendliness, Eleanor took Kate’s hand in her own, looked with great seriousness into her eyes and said, “Please, Miss Spencer, will you call me Ellie? It’s my pet name, everyone I like calls me so.”

Kate was touched by the young girl’s implied offer of friendship and she smiled and gave Ellie’s hand a little squeeze by way of saying ‘yes’. The squeeze was immediately reciprocated and, impulsively, Ellie bent down and gave her startled governess’s hand an ardent kiss.

“Oh, oh Miss Spencer, I’m sure that we shall be such good friends. I just know we will!”

Kate smiled and murmured her agreement.

“I’m sure we shall, Ellie. But you must be a good and diligent pupil, too, if you are to learn what your Papa and Mamma are so keen for me to teach you.”

* * * * *

That evening, Kate came down to supper wearing her dress of grey silk with a small neat white collar; for a smarter effect she had supplemented this with a plain silk lilac shawl worn over her shoulders. Mary Belfont had advised her that, until she had found her bearings in her new home, she should proceed with caution, not appear too loud or clever, speak only when spoken to by her employers and address most of her conversation to her young charge, Eleanor. Even so, she was a little disappointed that her appearance seemed so drab compared to that of Eleanor and her mother who were both wearing the latest Worth fashions, beautifully made from finest silk and taffeta and shimmering in the soft, flickering light of the silver candelabra.

She sat on Sir Bradley’s left and they discussed young Ellie’s curriculum while mother and daughter chattered on to each other about the events of the day. Sir Bradley was a good-looking man for his age, which Kate put at about 45. He sported neatly trimmed side-whiskers and a luxuriant moustache and had a similar, fair complexion to that of his daughter. Kate was a little nervous of him at first, but he had a comfortable, charming manner that soon put her at her ease. At nine o’clock they rose and went upstairs to a large drawing room, an elegant room, hung with ancestral portraits and sporting paintings; a welcoming fire flickered in the grate. The butler brought a large tray of after dinner drinks in and set it down on a small table in front of Lady Fordham who reclined informally on a huge tiger skin rug by the fire, the extravagant folds of her dress heaped up behind her.

Sir Bradley excused himself and the three women continued to talk as they sipped tea, with Kate entertaining her two female companions by telling them some of the history of her respectable, but humble upbringing. It was her first chance to compare her companions properly. For mother and daughter they seemed very unalike: Lady Alice Fordham was a raven-haired woman in her mid-thirties, with a sensual, exotic appearance, strong dark eyebrows, a full, sensuous mouth and big, expressive eyes; she was slightly taller than her daughter but a little shorter than Kate. Her figure was almost voluptuous: it had a superb bust and a tiny waist that flared into womanly hips and a bottom as full as a ripe peach.