MADEMOISELLE’S BREAKFAST TREAT
In the morning Pierre rose early to prepare Mademoiselle’s breakfast. The top sheet appeared to be sticking to him. There was a small greyish patch where the sheet covered his groin. He had a good idea what this meant. The boys had talked about such things at school often enough. He suspected that if Mademoiselle saw the bedding in this state he might well be punished and there would be a possibility of her administering a ‘corrective procedure’, and so he quickly made the bed as best he could. He would have to change the sheets later.
She had mentioned these ‘corrective procedures’ sometimes as a threat and deterrent to frighten him and keep him in check, nip things in the bud before they festered. The normal punishments (or ‘nice punishments’, as Pierre had come to call them) were by now easier to bear and in some cases quite enjoyable; so much so, he actually looked forward to them and even went out of his way to perform the misdemeanour that would attract the appropriate and subsequent correction – the bare bottom spankings, the wooden ruler across the calves or on the inside of the thighs, all these things stimulated him to some degree. There were ways and techniques that Mademoiselle employed that aroused in him a hot passion and longing, but whether this was intentional on her part or not, he had no idea. He had even begun to enjoy the ‘psychological shaming’ aspect of these procedures, whereby Mademoiselle would have Pierre standing before her afterwards to draw attention to the erection that had resulted from the slapping or spanking. She would prolong Pierre’s ordeal at her leisure, waiting to see if his penis would ‘wilt’ of its own accord, but most times the erection would persist and continue to betray him, much to Mademoiselle’s amusement. She would only relent when she became bored with the game. Whether or not she was aware of it he did not know, but he had grown to welcome the opportunities of displaying himself for his governess’s delectation.
But these harsher punishments - the corrective procedures she had talked of - promised severe pain and terror. She had mentioned caning and birching, which was harsher and crueller than the light stimulative beatings he had endured and indeed enjoyed thus far. A cane across the palm of the hand could be a vicious act and extremely painful, as could caning the bottom. Mademoiselle had also mentioned a ‘speciality’ of hers which she called ‘tethering’ and which she had described in lurid detail one evening to Pierre because he had been particularly inattentive and petulant during his extra-curricular lessons that day. She had made up the story, a product of her fanciful imagination, but it was no less effective in its purpose, which was to warn Pierre. He had cowered inwardly at the prospect.
‘Tethering’ involved the confinement of a male recipient’s testicles in a slip-noose on one end of a slim cord, the opposite end of which would be secured to one leg of a table, or any other item of heavy furniture that was fit for purpose and available. The unfortunate recipient would be without clothing and kept prisoner like this for as long as she deemed it necessary. The period of time was always subject to her mood and whim, and not the severity of the misdemeanour itself.
A subject’s hands would first be secured behind their back to prevent interference and his overall freedom would then be restricted and governed by the length of the cord attached to his genitalia. If he foolishly tried to escape or at the very least stray from the range of the cord, the slip knot would tighten and constrict his testicles to the point of agony and only ease back when he moved back into bounds, thus allowing the ‘noose’ to slacken, but not detach completely. This treatment was effective in reminding a subject of his position, his status in relation to hers, and his allowance of space as allotted by his governess, an important psychological factor in his subjugation. It was, she said, a very effective method for bringing a young man to heel in a short space of time.
“Of course, I only use this method in extreme circumstances. There is a risk of permanent injury so I hope you will not give me cause to use it on you, Pierre. However, you should also know the threat is real and not beyond the realms of possibility.”
To emphasise her point she had told him the story of one particularly obstinate young man in her governance, at sixteen, the youngest son of an importer in Liverpool who had been incessantly rude to her and she had finally lost patience with him and thought up some nasty but deserved punishment that would teach him a lesson:
“Brett was sixteen and a half and should have known better than to make me angry, He was becoming increasingly disobedient and petulant at the time and I promised myself that I would teach him a long overdue lesson the moment I had a day alone with him.
“One weekend his parents went to visit some friends in the south of England leaving their son in my care. They were to be away overnight. I decided that this was to be my opportunity
“I made him undress in front of me and immediately gained the upper hand by humiliating him early on. Then I tied his hands behind him and secured his private parts in the manner I have described. Oh, Pierre... you should have seen the look on his face. I tell you, it was an absolute picture. He probably thought I wouldn’t carry through my threat. How wrong he was...”
Mademoiselle deliberately paused while the implication of this heinous act sank in. She watched Pierre wince and sensed his inward squirming before continuing.
“... And then, after sitting him down on a cold hard chair and checking the knots were secure, I left him to himself and his thoughts and went up to my bedroom to dress for the afternoon. It was my intention to go into the city centre and enjoy a light lunch on the quayside and afterwards shop for clothes. It wasn’t long before I heard him call out to me to go to him and untie him. But of course I ignored his pathetic ramblings and continued dressing and making-up my face up while humming a happy refrain to drown out his stupid noise. I wanted him to stew.
“After a while the cries for help grew louder and more anguished and after one particularly terrible scream, I knew I would have to attend him forthwith.
“After checking on him – the chair was lying on its side and Brett himself was inconvenienced, lying on his front unable to turn over and in some discomfort - I decided that the situation was not serious ans soon regained my composure. It seems that he had put the contraption to the test and found that I had not been exaggerating as to its effectiveness. However, having satisfied myself that he was not seriously hurt I gave him a good telling-off, calling him a ‘blubbing baby’ and reminding of his age. I then re-righted the chair and sat him down once more upon it. I informed him that he was to be kept in this state on confinement for a good few hours yet so the quicker he got used to it the better. On receiving this news he burst into floods of tears which I of course ignored.
“You can’t leave me like this, please let me go,” he implored.
I assured him he’d be fine as long as he sat quietly until I returned.
“How long will you be?” he moaned and sulked.
I told him I had no idea and that he must be patient and just wait as I had quite a lot of shops and places to visit.
“And what happens if I need the toilet, or want a drink?” he said.
“I will leave you a chamber pot and a glass of water with a straw in it on the table. I think you’ll just be able to manage till I get back.
“When I had satisfied myself he understood and had accepted his predicament and would now be contrite and calm, I left him to himself again, assuring him that he was not in any danger as long as he sat quietly until I returned. The object was not to hurt him, but to subdue him and make him realise he was under my power and could not defy me. I then finished getting ready and went out.
“I savoured every moment while I was away from the house, going from shop to shop and eating a delicious lunch, taking my time, knowing Brett could do absolutely nothing of note until my return, happy in the knowledge he was now under my total control, powerless to relieve his discomfort and confinement until I decided to return to the house, and perhaps even then I might not release him right away but make him wait a little longer, drawing out his ordeal, sitting with him while I took tea and biscuits and observed his fretting. His constant whining, begging and tears of anger would amuse me for a further half hour before I decided to untie him. It was such fun to think about the options.”
Pierre showered, dressed and went downstairs to prepare breakfast for Mademoiselle. She had requested two soft-boiled eggs, toast cut into fingers, fruit juice and some cereal. She liked her eggs runny so that she could dip her toast. He set the egg timer to be sure of catching the eggs before they hardened and put it all onto a tray and headed towards the hallway. As he was passing the front door he saw that the morning papers and mail had been delivered, so he picked them up and put them on the tray alongside Mademoiselle’s breakfast. He went up the stairs to her room. She did not usually like being disturbed before 10 a.m. on Saturdays or Sundays, but as they were going into Paris for the day, she had requested breakfast at nine sharp.
He knocked and entered Mademoiselle’s room. She was sitting up in bed with the pillows plumped up behind her. She was reading a book.
“Thank you, Pierre. Right on time.”
He presented the tray to her and helped her get comfortable.
“You will read the newspapers for me, Pierre... translated into English of course. After I’ve eaten my breakfast you will bathe my feet and give me my weekly pedicure, and after that I shall want to whip your bare bottom as I promised I would yesterday, remember?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle... but with the whip? You’ve never whipped me before.”
“I know, and I think you are ready for it now. Your skin has become firmer and more resilient to my hand, and the ruler. I have seen how you now appear to enjoy the spankings I have so far been giving you... how it stimulates you. I do not believe this is a healthy situation for either of us and a punishment should mean what it says. That is why I am going to whip you hard on your backside to remind you of what it should feel like to be punished properly. It will also re-establish and reinforce the more delicate aspects of our relationship, that of mistress and slave. In the drawer over there you will find a small lightweight crop with fine leather thongs. After you have read to me and attended my feet I want you to prepare the instrument for use. The thongs need to be lightly oiled to make them super-supple, and I will want you to knot at least five or six ends so that they will bite into your skin a little. That should be enough to begin with. Now, Pierre... you may read to me.”