If I was not so exhausted, I might have fought Nanny more during the bath, but I am too tired to protest as she washes me thoroughly. I am not allowed to wash myself. She washes my hair, but then she moves on to my body with a far more thorough and frustrating wash than I have ever given myself.
Special attention is paid to my breasts and nipples, soaping them and squeezing and kneading them until I’m nearly mad from the teasing and my nipples are sore from her pinches and tugs. Then she washes down my stomach and between my legs, where my little pearl is teased relentlessly with the rough washcloth.
But she does not bring me to climax.
I am frustrated enough that when she begins to soap down my legs, I slide my hand between them, getting one moment of delicious pressure on my little pearl before she grabs my wrist and pulls my fingers away.
“Hey!”
“Little girls do not touch themselves there,” she scolds me, and I clench my jaw against reminding her that I am not actually a Little girl. She cannot watch me every second of every day. At some point, I will be able to relieve myself. “Only naughty girls touch themselves. And you know what happens to naughty girls.” She gives me a significant stare. “I can promise you, it feels ten times worse on a wet bottom.”
My gaze sneaks over to the counter where the hairbrush is sitting, along with the thin rod and bristles that I still do not know the use for.
It is certainly not worth risking another spanking, no matter how frustrated I might be.
Nanny finishes soaping and rinsing me.
Then, as she towels me off, she rubs my breasts and pussy and bottom all over again, setting all my senses tingling. The urge to press my fingers between my thighs and give myself a quick rub right where I need it is becoming stronger.
“Very good,” Nanny says approvingly. “Now let’s get you dressed again. I’ll ring for supper. By the time we’re done eating, your hair should be dry and we can get you ready for bed.”
Bed sounds heavenly. It also sounds like a place where I can bring myself to climax. Although… I try to remember if I saw any of the same kinds of chains and cuffs attached to the bed in the other room. Surely not. Even if there are, they cannot keep me chained to the bed all night.
Can they?
The ruffled gown slips back over my head, covering me. The fabric rubs against my hard nipples and the sensitive skin of my bottom with every move I make, making it impossible for me to ignore the arousal that Nanny stoked but did not satisfy.
Unfortunately, she is now keeping a close eye on me as we move back into the bedroom and then to the front room where she rings the bell. I do not dare put my fingers between my thighs. I do not want to be dragged back to the bathing room for a third enema and the hairbrush.
Instead, I press my thighs together, putting as much pressure on my aching flesh as I can, while I take a better look around the room.
The furniture is all painted white and very glossy and clean. There is a small table with four chairs around its square surface, a large brown teddy bear seated in one of the chairs. The rocking horse is big enough that I could comfortably sit on it if I wanted to.
Though I am tempted, I am loath to do so in front of Nanny for some reason.
I have to accept how they are treating me in order to receive my payment. I am certainly not going to make her think I am enjoying any part of what I have to do though.
Because I am not.
Right?
Walking over to the bookshelf, I look at the books there. They are thin and have pictures inside them.
“Can you read at all?” Nanny asks, coming over to see what I am looking at.
I shake my head. “Just my name.”
“Well, we will begin to work on that tomorrow. You’ll be learning reading, writing, and math, as well as comportment and etiquette to ensure you’re a good girl. Your Daddy wants to make sure you get some kind of education while you’re here. That way you’ll remember to read any contracts you receive in the future.” There is a hint of scolding in her tone again, reminding me of how foolish I’d been to sign the contract that brought me here without knowing what it said.
Even though I want to defend myself, I bite my tongue. I am getting very used to doing that today, as much as I hate it.
She is correct though.
If I’d known what the contract said… well, I still would have wanted the payment, but I would have asked for some changes.
No punishments, for one. Or, at least no spankings. No enemas.
No Nanny.
