In the dark corridor, Timmy knelt painfully on the hard floorboards with his face pressed feverishly into the door frame. Through the keyhole, he watched Governess prepare for her evening bath. The sound of running water drowned out his laboured breathing and involuntary gasps of pleasure at the sight of her undressing. His face was flushed with excitement and nerves and his hand was sticky from rubbing his leaking little penis through his cotton directoires. Timmy knew that Governess would spank him within an inch of his life if she were to catch him peeping but he simply could not help himself. Indeed, the more he thought of being caught by her, the more urgent and overwhelming his growing ‘stiffy’ became.
Finally, her black silk full length slip fell to the floor to reveal the all but naked body of Governess covered in a voluptuous transparent rubber ‘playsuit’. The rubber underwear was formed from a pair of rubber bloomers trimmed in rubber frills that started above the knee and continued up over her hips, in to her waist, and up to finish just over her ample bosom in a frilly rubber decolletage.
Whilst Timmy furtively rubbed himself, Governess stood in front of the bathroom mirror and admired her curves in rubber, caressing her rubber-clad flesh – up and down her bust and bottom and in between her legs. Timmy could bear it no more and with a grunt and groan, an eruption of warm, creamy mess spilled into his directoires, and he sank to the floor in a quivering heap.
Timmy was lost and helpless in the afterglow of his stolen pleasure when the stickiness of his creamy expulsion was swiftly replaced by the soaking of his urine flow. To his growing horror and humiliation, he felt himself lose all control of his bladder – with Governess just at the other side of the door – and he proceeded to thoroughly wet himself. As the puddle about him grew bigger and bigger and crept under the door, Timmy desperately gripped at his now limp penis through his sodden underwear. He so wished that he had kept on the protective rubber bloomers over the directoires, as Governess had instructed him to as she had tucked him into his bed just half an hour ago.
A shaft of punishing light illuminated his predicament and shame as the bathroom door opened and Governess emerged to stand towering over him in her intimate rubber uniform. Timmy looked up at her – his eyes wide with surprise and his mouth open but mute and his trembling hand still clutching at his shrunken willy through the soaking wet directoires.
“Well now,” said Governess, surveying the sorry scene of her guilty charge, “It seems that the naughty little Peeping Timmy has had an accident … and now he needs to be treated with a firm and guiding hand for his extracurricular exertions.”
Timmy followed at the shiny black patent leather high heels of Governess as best he could with the weight of his sopping directoires pulling him down. The stolen pleasure of his recent masturbatory crime was erased from his memory in an instant. He knew what was to come and now, in his drained and bedraggled condition, he no longer felt excited but terribly afraid by the prospect of a severe spanking punishment. He was snivelling by the time they reached the end of the corridor and Governess ushered her charge into the confines of her study.
Timmy stood nervously in front of the oak desk, sucking upon his thumb for comfort, while his other hand held onto his sagging directoires. He shivered from the damp cold and the fear of what was to come as Governess walked silently about him and examined his pathetic state. After a few minutes of looking him up and down and following a swift tug of his directoires that left them at his ankles, Governess stopped directly in front of him, hands placed firmly on her rubbered hips.
“You’re wet again, Timmy,” Governess stated simply as a matter of fact.
Timmy hung his head in shame and nodded.
Governess moved forward and at very close quarters whispered into Timmy’s ear, “You’re simply a little boy who cannot control himself. This is why you need Governess – to guide you and to show you the error of your ways. And you have many dirty little erroneous ways, don’t you, Timmy?”
He felt the caress of her rubber bloomers against his thighs. The rubber enveloped his genitals and he gasped at the startling sensation. There was no hiding place and he felt his cheeks burn as his humiliation swiftly rose to a 90 degree angle.
Governess half smiled, half sneered at his condition.
She continued, “You must be punished for your wrongdoings, Timmy. A sound over the knee spanking is in order. I want you to collect and position the spanking chair in its usual punishment place, Timmy,” Governess instructed.
Timmy bent to pull up his soggy directoires and cover his ever growing embarrassment.
Governess’s sudden harsh tone stopped him in his tracks.
“You go just as you are, with your genitals swollen and your knickers dragging at your ankles; like a ball and chain.”
The spanking chair was a robust high backed oak hall chair in the Gothic style that had a broad seat with a shaped recess for a more comfortable seat for the spanker’s bottom and to afford a prolonged spanking for the spanked bottom.
Timmy’s stomach and bowel churned as he struggled to manoeuvre the spanking chair centre stage, all the while tripping over the bloomers at his ankles. Throughout his fumblings and exertions, Governess watched and marked a mental card that recorded all the achievements and failings of her charge.
“Now Timmy, I want you to shuffle off over there in to the corner. Stand in the corner, hands on head, nose to the wall. And there I want you to consider the error of your dirty little ways and the spanking chair that awaits its purpose. So, shuffle along, my boy.”
Timmy did as he was told and shuffled along to the corner of the room with a puddle of his heavy knickers about his ankles. His nervous breaths echoed about the room as he dwelt on the impending pain of his punishment. The minutes passed painfully slowly but his heart and mind raced.
The whispering behind him of rubber rustling on his Governess’s bloomered body as she prepared for him cut in to his thoughts. His arms ached but his hands were glued to his head as Timmy was transfixed in a state of fevered torment.
“Timmy, I am ready for you now,” she announced.
He turned slowly, his hands still fixed to the top of his head. There sat Governess on the chair in the centre of the room. Her rubbered lap beckoned to him and Governess nodded for him to approach her. Timmy obediently if slowly made his way to the seat of his punishment.
“Assume the position for a spanking, Timmy.”
Timmy bent his knees and slowly, carefully, gingerly, dropped to his knees to then lay himself over the lap of Governess.
Timmy was tethered to the floor at one end as he was held down by the weight of his sodden bloomers; in the middle, Timmy’s now deflated and delicate parts were held in the rubber nest of Governess’ lap; and Timmy’s sweaty palms were planted on the floor at the other end. He was naturally restrained in the traditional OTK stance.
Governess made a few minor adjustments to his position by catching his limp cock between her smooth rubbered thighs.
“Timmy, you are now to receive six sets of six spanks to commence the punishment for the nocturnal adventures of our little peeping Timmy. This is to be swiftly followed by six sets of six with the leather strap.”
Timmy gulped. He shut his eyes tightly and dug his fingernails into the rug to steel himself for what he was about to receive that night. He held his breath as he felt Governess raise her hand from his clammy bottom in readiness for the first spank. His naked groin pushed against the rubber bloomers and though he felt the fluttering of trepidation in his tummy, to his dismay, he also felt a stirring in his loins and the bud of new growth. However, the life was quickly snuffed out of this as Timmy soon discovered that Governess would squeeze her strong thighs together in rhythm with the spanking strokes.
The spanking commenced with a sharp smack from Governess and a start and a yelp from Timmy – short, sharp, stinging slaps were deftly administered to Timmy’s quivering fleshy bottom cheeks. Spank, spank, spank, spank, spank, spank… and the first set immediately ran in to the next and the next and the next and the next and the next. Poor wailing Timmy was utterly defenceless as the blows rained down on his burning backside.
The once pale flesh of Timmy’s bottom was transformed – from pink blush with the first set of spanks to fiery red by the sixth. Timmy, caught across the lap and held fast by the strong arm and thighs of Governess; all he could do was to kick his feet in painful protest and fill the room with his repertoire of guttural moans and groans and squeals, punctuated by actual words of “Ow!”, “No!”, “Ouch!” and “Stop it!” in the solo chorus of the spanked boy.
And then at the final spank of thirty six spanks and with barely a pause for breath, the leather strap was deftly snapped up and ruthlessly administered by Governess to the already bruised and tender cheeks of Timmy’s backside.
Timmy recalled that Governess had been a badminton player at university and was awarded club colours for her smashing efforts. Now she was passing on the colours to him and that colour was decidedly red. For a moment, a pleasant image of Governess in a white pleated gym skirt and Aertex blouse with white knickers and socks and rubber soled plimsolls came to his mind but the second spanking set knocked it swiftly out of his mind and back to focus on the reality of this most painful and prolonged of bedtime punishments.
Timmy gritted his teeth and held on for dear life as he realised that his feeble efforts to interrupt or escape the scolding strap were futile and, indeed, only served to fuel the strong arm of the Governess.
And then just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Governess was calm and quiet but Timmy was heaving and sobbing. His limp, sore, beaten bottom draped over her with the mark of the strap imprinted across his cheeks as a brand of her authority.
Governess released her thighs and let Timmy slide to the floor in an unsightly heap. He lay there for many minutes, sobbing and panting as Governess silently looked down upon him and awaited his recovery.
Then Governess bent down to him from her chair and lifted his chin with her finger so that his eyes met hers. “And now, Timmy,” she said softly, “A kiss to make it better.”
Timmy stared into the deep brown eyes of Governess as her full red lips came down to his trembling mouth. Then Governess broke the spell as she moved her puckered lips from his eager lips to kiss his forehead and spoke her words of goodnight.
“Face flushed and bottom burning bright; time to be tucked back into bed for the night; silky knickered and rubbered tight,” Governess recited as she took him by the shoulders and ushered him to the door. “Sweet dreams, my darling Timmy, you sorry and snivelling little thing.”