Supper turns out to be torturous in its own way. Nanny is determined to teach me to ‘eat correctly.’
Which involves constantly correcting me on everything. There are too many forks and spoons to keep track of, especially when one’s stomach is grumbling in such a demanding manner.Who cares if I slurp my soup? Nanny is the only one around to hear it. Apparently, she cares.
I want to ask questions about the Duke, about the household, but the entire meal is taken up with Nanny’s directions and corrections. I am even more exhausted by the end of it than I thought possible, and the arousal she’d stoked within me is completely wiped away. That is the only good part about the meal, other than the food, that I am no longer itchy with need between my legs by the end of it.
After eating, Nanny sits me down in front of the vanity in the bedroom and brushes my hair with a beautiful hairbrush that has an ivory handle and a painted back. Not the horrid hairbrush from the bathing room. As she does so, I eye the bed and the crib as best I can, trying to see if there are any chains or cuffs hidden in their structures. Eventually, Nanny pinches my nipple to grab my attention again.
“Eyes front, Betty,” she says sharply, and I hastily put my head in the position she wants, because I immediately recognize that tone.
“How did you come to work for the duke?” I ask her as the brush runs through the silky strands of my hair, folding my hands atop each other in my lap. If I cannot look at the furniture in the room, then I at least want to learn something.
“Oh, well there’s an agency for women like me,” Nanny says cheerfully. She puts down the brush and begins to braid my hair into two plaits, one on either side of my head. “I found them when I was working as a governess for another family and decided I wanted this kind of position. The duke is the third employer I’ve had from that agency and this household suits me very well. You are a lucky girl to have him as a benefactor.”
Lucky.
Ha.
I wonder if she said the same thing to the other courtesans, the ones who finished their contracts and declined a second one.
I stare at myself in the mirror as she works her way down the second plait of hair. Two braids. Like a child. I should not be surprised.
“All done. Let’s get you ready for bed.” Nanny pulls a watch out of her pocket and checks it. “Your Daddy may be by shortly before he leaves for the evening.”
I glance out the window, since I did not see the time on her watch before she tucked it back into her pocket. Despite my utter exhaustion, it does seem to be lighter outside than it normally would be when I go to sleep.
Thetonkeeps late hours, and Madame Atout had us on the same schedule, but I am more than ready to fall into bed. Even a childish ruffled bed. I am ignoring the presence of the crib. Surely that is for more of the Duke’s… play. I will not borrow trouble and bring attention to it until I must.
Following Nanny into the bedroom, I obediently stand and lift my arms for her to strip the ruffled gown from me. It is over my head and in a hamper in a flash and then she goes to a dresser and pulls out another white garment, neatly folded.
It goes over my head – but not all the way over my arms. More fabric hangs from my arms, falling all the way to the floor. And it is too short, barely reaching my hips and leaving my pussy and bottom exposed in a horribly embarrassing manner.
“Nanny? What is wrong with this… nightgown?” I do not know what else to call it.
“Nothing. This is going to help you be a good girl at night.” Suddenly, I find my arms crossed over each other, in front of my stomach. The position pushes my breasts together between them, my nipples rubbing against the fabric and starting to stiffen again, as my hands are drawn to opposite hips.
“Wait!” Panic starts to rise as I realize she’s tying the ends of the sleeves behind my back, leaving my arms and hands trapped against me, so that I am completely helpless.
Chapter Seven
“I cannot sleep like this!”
Indignity after humiliating and perverse indignity has been heaped on me already today, but this has to be a step too far. The nightgown Nanny is putting me is no such thing – it has me hugging myself with my breasts trapped between my upper arms, my hands pressing against my hips, making it so I am unable to move.
“You will get used to it,” Nanny replies ruthlessly, and I feel the garment tug as she ties it tightly behind me. “This will make sure our little girl doesn’t abuse herself.”
“I was not going to!” I certainly had been planning on rubbing my pussy and bringing myself to climax at some point, but she did not know that. At least, she could not know that for certain. I feel as though I should have at least been given the chance to be good, instead of the presumption that I could not control myself.
“And now I made sure of that.” Nanny’s voice is calm. Smug.
Maybe it’s the long day, maybe it’s my exhaustion, but I’m starting to feel like kicking her would be worth whatever retribution she’s able to mete out.
I do not get the chance though.
With my arms secured to my sides like this, there is very little I can do, especially when she is behind me. She grips the knot in the center of my back and propels me forward toward the bed. I cannot balance myself like this and am unable to push back, stumbling forward until I’m bent over the edge of the bed with my exposed bottom and pussy pointed toward the room.
The perfect position for spanking me.
“I haven’t been bad!” I cry out.
