The English Governess. John Glassco

of your seed.

      “Yes, Arthur, let all that be over and done with, and let me share your bed and your pleasure every night as a man’s whore should.”

      He took her head between his hands and made the rare gesture of kissing her on the lips. “You shall come tomorrow,” he said.

      “Now who is the happiest woman in the world!” the good creature cried, jumping up. “For that, I must give you the finest frigging ever a man had! Come, sit down on the stool there now, and put your legs apart.”

      Arthur rose and sat on the low stool with his legs widely spread, while Kate, drawing up a high chair, sat down facing him and then, raising her own legs and laying her heels on either side of his testicles, she took his half-awakened member between the sides of her boots and began rolling and rubbing it skilfully against the velvety leather of the uppers. Arthur’s eyes shone with pleasure as he followed the slow voluptuous movements of her feet.

      “That’s a grand way to be frigged when you’re in the mood for boots, isn’t it?” she said archly.

      Arthur looked from her flushed face to his member which was slowly swelling from the soft friction of the leather, and then to her own widerspread thighs which, with her chemise now well tucked up; displayed the charming slit of her sex opening and shutting with the rotation of her hips as she kept masturbating him in this ingenious manner.

      “Dear Kate,” he said, “you can frig a man better with your feet than many a whore can do with her two hands, indeed you can.”

      “Ah, I’m only too glad I can, since you like it so well. But now you’ve got me so hot I must frig myself too.” And parting the lips of her vulva she attacked her swollen clitoris with passionate fingers.

      The sight completed the process of her lover’s erection; and as his member throbbed and pulsated between the churning, kneading feet he kept his eyes fixed, now on it and now on his mistress’ masturbation of herself, until he felt the pleasure of the crisis threading his loins imperiously and discharged his sperm freely into the air. Then, sinking back in happy exhaustion, he followed with critical appreciation the course which Kate was following in the achievement of her own orgasm before his eyes.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      The next morning at seven o’clock Harriet, fully dressed, entered her pupil’s room again. He was still drowned in slumber, and as on the previous evening she lifted the covers and with a swift glance examined the boy carefully: she at once noted the violent erection of his member, and smiled at this evidence of a temperament so consonant with her plans. Richard had not moved; to waken him she was obliged to shake him by the shoulder. He started up, rubbing his eyes.

      “Well, Richard, what do you say?”

      “Good – good morning, miss.”

      “Good morning. It is seven o’clock, the time when you will get up every morning from now on. Come into the bathroom.”

      He hesitated, all too aware of the distention of his genital.

      “Well, I am waiting,” she said, her brows knitting.

      “But – but, miss, I’m not – I mean – I mean, my – my ...”

      “Your what? Come, up with you now at once.” With a swift movement she pulled the covers from his naked body, and his hands went instinctively to cover his member. “Oh, so that is what is troubling you! Really, such false modesty is absurd. Get up at once! We are not going to wait for that morning tension to go down.” And she turned away impatiently.

      He rose in confusion, seized his dressing-gown and followed her into the bathroom.

      “I have had Bridget draw your bath,” said Harriet. “Get into it now.”

      He looked at her in embarrassment. “Yes, miss ...” But he remained motionless, standing before her uncertainly.

      “Well, what are you waiting for?”

      “I – miss, –I shall have to undress ...”

      “Of course. You do not make a habit of taking a bath in your dressing-gown, I hope. Take it off.”

      He began untying the cord around his waist, hoping she would leave; then he understood that she meant to be present when he took his bath. He slipped out of the gown and stood nude before her.

      She sat down, examining him with her cool, intent glance. This was the first time she had seen him naked, and for all her air of outward calm she was deeply stirred by the beauty of this adolescent body. Her eyes passed appreciatively from point to point, dwelling with connoisseurship now on the plump shoulders, now on the straight slender legs, now on the almost feminine swell of the hips, but fixing at last on the firm and nervous rondure of buttocks and thighs, and then centring inevitably on the puerile penis which, by now soft and pendent, had withdrawn coyly between his thighs where it formed, with the small tight testicles, a kind of dainty genital triumvirate in a state of modesty and repose. When he was in the water she drew her chair beside the bathtub.

      “I have been entrusted by your father,” she said with a smile, “with the task of supervising your whole upbringing, — and that comprises more than school work, you know. So I shall be here every morning to see that you take your bath, whether you like it or not. Now hurry. Wash yourself thoroughly all over!”

      Richard obeyed. He was thinking more and more of his little schoolmate’s governess. How far would the resemblance go? And how downright and domineering this woman was! Suddenly disturbed by the thought that he might even now be keeping her waiting, he finished washing himself and was rising to leave the bath when she stopped him.

      “What is this?” she said sharply. “Do you not wash your private parts?”

      “No, miss – I mean, yes ... I thought that – that – ”

      “You thought you would omit them this morning, I suppose! I told you to wash yourself all over. Kneel down and do so at once, if you please.”