The Live in Baby Sitter (private)

[sandmartin]

The taxi pulled away and I surveyed the big iron gates and leafy avenue of trees leading up to the house as I mouthed the word, 'Wow!'

I looked down at the piece of paper in my hand and checked the address, not that I imagined for a moment the taxi driver had got it wrong. My heart quicken its beat as I headed up the drive to the big house. It was gorgeous, spacious with lots of ground, no neighbours and reeked of money.

I really needed this job and had gone out of my way to make myself the absolute picture of respectability. The very fact that I was here now, attending an interview was a miracle, but to get the job - why that would be the answer to all my prayers. No rent to find, no service charges, meals free and money in my pocket too! What more could I ask for?

Getting an interview had been tough enough. Mr Batard, Jean Batard to be precise, and I had spoken extensively on the telephone before he had me send some references to him and a photograph that was less than six months old.

He was an older gentleman, a widower, who had charge of his young grandson, though I had no idea of the details of that just assuming it was under tragic circumstances and hadn't liked to pry.

I climbed two steps and stood before this huge wooden door, my heart fluttering as I smoothed my dress down and pressed the bell.

 

[cgraven]

Jean Batard was seated behind his wide oak Victorian desk. Idly he regarded the photographic, and he had to admit that the young lady was quite attractive, in fact she was beautiful. The young woman in the photo had a marked air of innocence. A smile creased Jean’s rouged face it would be a pleasant diversion to pervert such a delicious little morsel, to play upon her youthful passions, to discover her darker passions and set them free. Yes Jean was looking forward to this mooring’s interview.

Jean Batard now turned his attentions to the letters of reference noting the points of interest… Freshman,……….partial scholarship,…………no close relatives……no boyfriend again the smile creased his lips no one to miss the young Miss. A soft knock at the study door, followed by the low hushed voice of Carbaue his valet.

” Sir there is a young Lady to see you

The weathered valet smiled a wicked smile then continued in his low voice.

“And she is quite a delectable little morsel Sir.”

Jean Batard straightened coming to his full height surrounded by the Gothic eloquence of his study, eagerly awaiting his first glimpse of his live in baby sitter.

Mr. Batard Miss Thomas.

The Valet ushered in the most delightful breath of spring Jean had seen in years. Sandy Thomas demurely entered the study dressed in a knee length full skirt, white blouse and pale blue cardigan that complemented the firm swell of her breasts. Her honey blond, with just a touch of coppery fire, was gathered in a pony tail, the image of that lustrous hair freed and cascading down around the young beauty’s shoulders caught his imagination. As die Sandy’s slim figure, young pretty face, and her wide innocent eyes, yet the piece de resistance where her full ripe lips.

“Miss Thomas your resume is quite impressive for one so young, can you tell me a bit more about yourself and why you think you are suited for this position.”

Mr. Jean Batard’s voice was soft, pleasant , yet very formal. He hardly listened to Miss Thomas’ reply as his eyes discreetly began to stripper her.

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

The door was opened by a formally dressed man.
"Mr Batard?" I enquired.
"You are?"
"Miss Thomas. I have an appointment concerning the position of babysitter."
"This way please."

I stepped inside what I can only describe as a cavernous hallway. Straight ahead of me stood a wide staircase with the kind of banisters that you dreamt of sliding down as a child, and there was a huge crystal chandelier. It was like stepping back in time, oil paints and oak doors - it was wonderful.
"Wait here if you please."
'Impeccable manners.' I thought, watching the Valet cross the hallway to a closed wooden door. He knocked the door and waited, then silently entered. I heard him announce me...
"Sir there is a young Lady to see you..." and the rest was lost to me, but I really liked the Sir and Lady, it sounded most grand.

The Valet didn't beckon to me, but actually came and escorted me across to the study, and when I stepped inside...
Sunlight slanted in through the window behind the heavy desk. To the right lay a large open fire place that must be a wondrous sight when set with a roaring fire in the depths winter. The room was oak panelled with a lofty ceiling, bookcases and two sturdy armchairs sitting comfortably on either side of the fire place. I loved the whole feel to the place at once; all it needed was a few gas lamps, some costumes and maids to set it back in Victorian times.

I turned my attention back to the large desk and the tall, solid looking man standing behind it. He had a full crop of ginger hair despite his age, which I put at late forties, early fifties.

“Miss Thomas your resume is quite impressive for one so young, can you tell me a bit more about yourself and why you think you are suited for this position.”

"Well sir, as I said on the telephone when we spoke, I believe I can relate to children and they to me. I try my utmost to be patient and considerate towards them at all times. And I never lose my temper." I spoke slowly and carefully, though my tone perhaps lacked real confidence as I am shy in nature. "My personal circumstances remain unchanged. I am single, I don't drink alcohol except the odd glass of wine, and I don't smoke or take any other form of toxicants. My parents have passed away and I am looking for a suitable position that will enable me to tend my studies so I may further my education."

 

[cgraven]

Her voice was soft, velvet, it flowed over Miss Thomas’ lips like honey. My manner was of quite respectful attention, my eyes cool calm as I discreetly surveyed the young golden beauty standing before me. Her manners where graceful demure, every thing about Sandy Thomas spoke of a most refreshing innocence. I noticed she posed the rarest of figures, in that it was delightfully balanced, her breasts for her stature just right firm, proud, neither to large nor to small, Sandy’s waist trim, her hips a gentle swell, and her legs long and athletically toned.

“Forgive me Miss Thomas do have a seat .”

I extended my hand indicating a straight back chair across from the desk from me.

“It is rare to me a young Lady such as yourself that avoids smoking or toxicants. I am quite impressed.”

I remained standing and rang the little sliver bell on my desk presently Carbaue appeared.

“Tea Carbaue and I think some cakes.”

“Of course you will join me Miss Thomas, Sandy”

I let the sever nature of my countenance ease a bit my steely hazel eyes soften a touch.

“I fear that I do dread over formality and my governess when I was a lad was always considered as family rather than a servant.”

I continued the interview asking the expected questions. The silent Carbaue returned with the tea cart and prepared the tea handing a china cup to Sandy, our young beauty a choice of tea cakes. I knew that our young Miss’s tea had been drugged, a slow acting but very powerful drug that would in time induce a dream like state where Sandy would find it hard to distinguish between reality and dream.

“The position is yours Sandy if you still want it, I shall have Carbaue send for your things and you can state immediately.”

My voice was soft subtle almost hypnotic as I chatted with my newest victim waiting for the drug to take effect. As Sandy Thomas’ eyes grew heavier I rose slowly circling her chair, slowly I loosened the ribbon that held her silken tresses captive in her pony tail, letting cascade down around her shoulders. My fingers slipped through her lustrous shimmering hair. I bent low my lips brushing her earlobe.

“Ah That’s much better Sandy.”

My hot, moist breath stirring the stray whips of hair at the nape of the golden haired beauty’s neck

“ Yes that is much better Sandy.”

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

I rather liked Mr Batard’s kindly compliments, and felt myself relax just a little when he called for tea and cakes; how eloquent. Although I was well aware that I was very much on show and became quite self-conscious as I ate my cake, painfully concerned of every crumb that dropped and missed my plate.

The interview moved forward at a seeming leisurely and informal pace and I suddenly became aware that I was feeling so dreadfully tired. I tried hard to sit up straight and pay attention, I heard him compliment me again and tell me the position was mine should I choose to accept.

Again I fought sleep and readily agreed to his most generous terms as he instructed his Valet to collect my things and bring them over. I hadn’t even considered that I wouldn’t be returning back to my little apartment one last time. I remember thinking to myself that it was not very tidy and what must they think of me when they saw it all…

And then I was lost. Lost to a strangely realistic dream in which I actually thought I could feel fingers running through my hair, playing with my loosened tresses. There was a voice, whispering in my ear, I’m sure I could feel someone’s breath on the back of my neck – it was so realistic.

Was that a kiss? I fought the heavy depths of sleep and for a moment surfaced. I could see his face Mr. Bat… the ceiling, what was happening?

I was moving, I could see the ceiling above me as I floated through the house, a hand – what was it doing there? I float on, up some stairs to a room. Then I was sinking, down and down, into the softest mattress I have ever known. I felt warm and cocooned, my skirt – it moves down across my thighs to cover my knees again, but what was it doing up there in the first place?

My hazy world drifted into darkness and I slept…

 

[cgraven]

I was quite pleased with how the drug affected Sandy, just the brush of my lips on her shell like ear had elicited a sharp intake of breath, her firm young breast rising in response to this subtitle stimulation. I kissed the soft spot behind the young woman’s ear, Slowly I gathered Sandy into my arms, and her arms instinctively went around my neck. Miss Thomas’ prim and proper skirt, had worked high up on her thighs as I carried the young beauty to her new room. Laying her down on the plush feather comfiture, Sandy’s alabaster legs where slightly parted, the skirt was bunched around her waist, and my hand reached out to just graze the warm sensual outline of her sweet innocence. My heart was pounding, my lust for the young beauty pound in my heart. Yet patience in such matters was a virtue. Reluctantly I drew down Sandy’s skirt and left my live in Bay sitter resting primly, all as it should be.

Carbaue knocked softly on the door.

“Miss Thomas dinner will be served in a half hour.”

Carbaue had played the perfect gentleman’s gentleman never daring to enter the Lady’s room.

Jean Batard had made his plans for the evening, dinner first, some white wine, of course Sandy Thomas’ would be doctored. A simple meal for a warm day, served in the conservatory rather than the formal dinning room.. Beside as he mused to himself the wild plantings of the conservatory where symbolic for the temptation of the golden haired innocent.

Dinner had gone well, grab salad, and smoked salmon, and a white chocolate mouse. Conversation had been light nothing to cause alarm while Batard waited for the tell tale signs that the drug taking effect.

“Sandy I fear the evening is intolerably hot and humid.”

I slipped my dinner jacket from my shoulders removed my tie and opened the top button of my shirt.

“Sandy it is not necessary to be dressed for dinner, your cardigan, the heat, in fact it would please me if you did undress now Miss Thomas.”

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

I woke with a start, then sagged back on the bed my head pounding. What had happened, and how had I got here. I was dressed, that was relief. I waited a few minutes, trying to clear my head. Then I opened my eyes and surveyed my new surroundings.

Big old fashioned room, solid oak furniture, big big bed! It was divine. Heavy drapes at the window and I just had to rush across and throw them open, the light streamed in.

There was a knock at the door, I turned as it opened.
"Dinner will be served shortly Miss." And then the Valet was gone, before I could ask what had happened, how I had come to be here, and my things - they were all here too. Packed in neat boxes ready for me to unpack - not now, no time.

I straightened my clothes, brushed my hair - how had it come loose? And went down stairs.

Mr Batard sat opposite through dinner, conversation was light and as no mention was made of my obvious rudness at falling asleep, I chose not to mention it either.

“Sandy it is not necessary to be dressed for dinner, your cardigan, the heat, in fact it would please me if you did undress now Miss Thomas.”

I blanched, feeling my heart quicken and my face flush. Undress! What was this? I didn't understand - he couldn't be serious.
"Umm! Excuse me?" My voice quivered nervously, I was flustered, my hands clasped to my bosom defensively. I didn't dare to meet his gaze... And my head, it feels kind of fuzzy again...

 

[cgraven]

"Umm! Excuse me?"

Sandy’s voice quivered nervously, her pale blue eyes wide; the young beauty’s delicate hands flew to her bosom defensively. She dropped her gaze demurely, not daring to meet my steady gaze.

“Miss Thomas the evening is hot humid,…”

Carbaue eased Sandy’s chair back, I slowly strolled towards the confused young beauty. My hands gently took hers and I drew her to her feet.

“……..Your cardigan.”

I lifted her chin with a single finger tip, my hazel eyes, captured her soft blue eyes, my fingers, slowly trailed down the sensual line of Sandy’s neck, the first button of her cardigan surrendered, one by one the buttons popped open, my hands sensually slid up the young golden haired beauty’s torso to ease back the sweater from her shoulders. Carbaue slid the garment down her arms. I leaned forward my lips brushing Sandy’s ear.

“Now isn’t that much better Miss Thomas,…….Sandy.”

My eyes held hers once again, her soft blue eyes, drugged glazed, her nerves on fire from the special additive to her wine. The first button of her prim virginal white blouse popped open under my attentive fingers.

“Perhaps your blouse as well Sandy, it is after all so hot this evening.”

My voice was soft, hypnotic, as I guided her trembling fingers to the next button. My voice sensually seductive, but leaving the distinct impression that this was not a request, but a command.

"After all Sandy you do need this position so very much don't you my dear?"

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

I felt my chair pull backwards and glance behind me, the old Valet is there, lending a hand. Slightly confused I stand as Mr Batard takes my hands and pulls me to my feet.
"Your cardigan.”

Relief - How silly of me? Through distant eyes I watch his finger pop the buttons and then my cardigan slips from my shoulders, taken by the Valet.

“Now isn’t that better Miss Thomas ……Sandy.”
"Yes." I respond sluggishly.

That's strange... The button of my blouse pop's open!
“Perhaps your blouse as well Sandy, it is after all so hot this evening.”

'Of course - it's warm. My blouse, why not!' I feel my fingers slipping down the neat row of buttons down my front, guided on their journey from one button to the next by Mr Batard’s hand.

My breathing, slow and rhythmic - what was that?
"After all Sandy you do need this position so very much don't you my dear?"
'Why yes of course - very much.' Was I answering, or simply thinking - I couldn't tell.

There, we reached the end of the row of buttons, was I supposed to be undoing my buttons, I couldn't remember...

 

[cgraven]

“Now isn’t that better Miss Thomas ……Sandy”

"Yes."………. 'Of course - it's warm. My blouse, why not!' My young virginal beauty meekly responded, her soft voice a bit sluggish. Sandy’s breathing was slowing rhythmic. Her delicate fingers did not hesitate and she demurely unfastens each button of her prim little blouse in turn.

"After all Sandy you do need this position so very much don't you my dear?"

'Why yes of course - very much.'

Sandy’s hands hovered by the last button of her blouse. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of this innocent young girl standing there her blouse gaping open, her young firm breast rising and falling with each breath she took, the soft curve of her breast the deep cleavage. Carbaue knew his duties well and knelt to slowly slide down the zipper of Sandy Thomas’s skirt. The garment tumbled down her long tapered athletic legs with a little help from my Valet. I eased the open blouse from this delectable little morsel’s shoulders, to flutter to the floor to join the skirt now pooled around her trim ankles.

“Much cooler isn’t it Sandy.”

I turned to Carbaue.

“Miss Thomas and I will take our tea by the Monkey Puzzle tree.”

Taking the young Miss by the hand I lead her deeper into the Conservatory’s garden regarding her half naked state as the most normal of attire.

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

Strangely, I felt the softest of breezes on my legs, like hundreds of delicate fingers with the touch of velvet running down my legs. My blouse slipped away. The veil behind which reality lay shifted constantly, I was aware, yet not aware in the real sense that I was dressed only in my underwear now, that all my clothes had gone. The Sandy of the real world would have been horrified by such a thing, but this was not the real world and everything seemed quiet acceptable…

“Much cooler isn’t it Sandy.”

Why yes, it was. Much cooler thank you.

“Miss Thomas and I will take our tea by the Monkey Puzzle tree.”

The Monkey Tree? What a very unusual name, in fact it was rather funny and I might have laughed, or did I?

Mr Batard took my hand and turned me into the Conservatory. Why was Carbaue staring at me like that? My eyes stayed on him as Mr Batard led me down the path, what was he looking at?

Then he was lost and I walked a while, arm in arm with Mr Batard, it was quite proper and most acceptable in a former time for a man to accompany a woman in such a manner…

 

[cgraven]

Batard gave Carbaue an icy stare as the old wizened valet drank in Sandy near nakedness such blatant attention to the nearly naked beauty might spoil the dream like state that the young golden haired beauty was slipping ever deeper into.

Young Miss Thomas seduction and training would take time, in the end the stunning young woman would willingly offer up her virginity, yet that lay in the future. The first step was to lull this vibrant young beauty into a sense of security, the fact that she was nearly naked as the most natural of things. To this end Jean Batard sip his tea the perfect gentleman, paying little heed to Sandy’s luscious body, so young so firm. The words of Jeans Father came back to him.Jean the patient hunter claims the prize.

Sandy’s eyes grew heaver, as the effect of the drug deepened, the crazy, jumbled twists of the Monkey puzzle tree surrealistic, not really belong to the real world, they belonged to a fantasy dream world. Jean Batard took Sandy’s hands raising her from the wicker chair, He then sat drawing the innocent beauty to the thick carpet of moss at the base of the tree. Sandy’s eyes pale blue where wide as she now was caught in a world between reality and dream. Batard’s lips brush the young girls full ripe lips, barely touching them.

“Miss Thomas the evening is intolerably hot.”

His fingers slid down her shoulders, a snap of his fingers and the clasp of Miss Sandy Thomas’ bar popped open, slowly he slid the straps from her arms and her modest bar was cast aside. Now Carbaue was at the young beauty’s side. The two men eased Sandy down till she lay on the cool moss. Again Jean’s Batard’s lips brushed hers, his tongue slide along her full lower lip, along the even white ridge of her teeth.

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

It really was the oddest of dreams, it was as though I was really there, physically a part of it - but none of it made sense. And it was all so vivid, and I had never dreamt like this before, not of myself practically naked in the presence of a man...

I sat sipping my tea in my underwear as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Mr Batard sitting beside me seemed not to notice, as if it were perfectly normal. Maybe I wasn't really sitting in anything other than my underwear - dreams can trick you like that, so you never really know what's real or not.

I tried to concentrate on the twisting and turning branches of the Monkey Puzzle Tree, 'it was,' I thought, 'aptly named.'

Mr Batard cut across my vision. I breathed deeply, it was such an effort just to look up at him and a little glimmer shot into my mind and pierced my thoughts, is it really possible to feel so sleepy in a dream?

Somewhere a little alarm bell went off, and then it just drifted off on the wind and disappeared. I accepted his hands and he helped me to my feet. I allowed him to guide me across to the tree - Yes, that's right I was admiring the tree, it would be nice to take a closer look.

Mr Batard helped me down, such a gentleman. Something brushed my lips, or so I thought - Gosh I felt woozy!

“Miss Thomas the evening is intolerably hot.”
'Yes - I know.'
His hands slipped down and help me out of my top. And there was Mr Batard's faithful manservant at his side, he was smiling at me. Together they help me down so I could lay on the soft velvety moss!

Good grief! How very, very peculiar, looking down I could see my bare breasts. For a fleeting moment I tried to surface, but quickly sank again as I realised that neither of the two men appeared to be able to see me naked.

And then... my heart began to flutter as I felt Mr Batard's lips meet mine. He was such a gentleman, a true gentleman and they are so rare to find today...

 

[cgraven]

Jean could feel the alluring Miss Thomas’s heart flutter, the tip of his tongue slipped into the soft moist warmth of the girl’s mouth. He savored the sweet innocent of Sandy’s mouth, his tongue teased hers, beckoned it to dance with his. Batard’s kiss was tender, sensual and oh so very seductive. Slowly it deepened tempting the young golden haired innocent to surrender to the wicked pleasure it gave her, tempting her to taste him.

Ever so lightly his fingers brushed Sandy’s firm young breast danced lightly over the young beauty's fevered flesh, his touch so light it was almost nonexistent. The tip of his finger now circled the girl’s areola, teasing it, tempting her soft supple flesh to respond to his touch. Carbaue’s fingers in like manner followed his master’s loving example to tease Sandy’s other nipple.

Jean Batard every never on edge, he searched for the slightest signs of doubt or resistance from the young beauty. Patience Jean reminded himself, for Sandy Thomas was going no where, every sign of her existence had been erased from her former lodgings by the faithful Carbaue. Her college classes where not do to start for three weeks. .....by that time Miss Sandy Thomas would have disappeared from the face of the earth, her old life gone forever, her new life now just begun with Jean Batard sensually, seductive kiss.

Time, there would be plenty of time to seduce and train the young beauty, patience Jean. Patience Jean, and if she would not be seduced...........well breaking the proud, young, innocent, beauty to his will held its own special charms for Jean, if it came to that.

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

The swirling banks of cloud that fogged my mind shifted endlessly and in my dream like state I was aware that my breathing was shallow, that my breasts were heavy and tingly. My nipples felt hard and something was circling them, both of them, round and round in endless circles.

Breath-in… I feel the gentle wisp of cool air across the tip of my tongue. My nipples ache they are so hard. My eyes blink, it is slow. I should wipe my hand across my breasts, stop this tireless circling – but it’s so nice. Breath-out…

I should get up. It’s what I normally do when I get so hot and sweaty. Take a shower, cool down, have drink, then return to bed, all wanton memories washed away by the shower. Only I can’t get up, I appear to be incapable of waking myself.

There are voices, far away in the distance. He sounds familiar, is that Mr Batard I can hear? Such a gentleman Mr Batard, he would seem to be locked in a time spell, set back a good hundred years or so, well out of sync with the modern world. I like his old fashioned values and his easy manners – am I dreaming about Mr Batard? Do I have a crush on him? Surely not, he is much to old – he is just courteous and cultured.

I can feel myself floating, my heavy eyes flutter open as I try to focus – is that the ceiling I can see as I glide along – Ah! My bed, that wonderful mattress in which I can snuggle down and feel cocooned - see, I knew I was just dreaming really.

* * *

I awake with a start, sitting up in bed and looking around me. My heart is beating rapidly and I can feel the anxiety baring down on me like a dark shadow caste over my mind, and then I am aware of the throbbing headache.

The room looks normal, peaceful and undisturbed. The cause of my start eludes me as I swing my feet out the bed and paddle across to the heavy drapes. I part them and sunlight bursts into the room, almost dazzling me with its brilliance. I step back, my hand rubbing my aching forehead. I need a shower, freshen-up before I present myself for breakfast.

Glancing at the clock to confirm it is not so late in the day that I should have missed it. My room has the benefit of an en suit bathroom and it is not until I stand before the shower cubicle that I realise I am still wearing yesterday’s underwear, but why? I never go to bed so dressed, I always wear my nightshirt. I try to think, to recollect how I managed to put myself to bed and why I did not both to dress accordingly.

For the life of me I cannot remember what happened yesterday evening. I could recall sitting in the conservatory with Mr Batard while Carbaue poured us tea, I seemed to vaguely recall something about a Monkey Puzzle Tree, after that I had little… except faint images that made absolutely no sense. I quickly realised these must have been dreams and I went back to sitting beside Mr Batard.

In the end I gave up, stepping out of my underclothes, putting them in the laundry basket and entering the shower. After showering I dressed, again modestly, but smartly and headed downstairs. Today I hoped to meet Mr Batard’s grandson who would be in my charge.

Upon entering the dining room I found Mr Batard all ready seated at the table reading one of the main sheet papers. He looked up as I entered and greeted me politely, even raising himself slightly out of his chair – I did admire his gracious manners.
“Yes I slept well, thank you for asking.”

He waved me to the chair on the opposite side of the table from him, and poured me a fresh cup of tea from the pot, making some off handed comment that I mustn’t get use to him serving me, that would soon change. It was all very light-hearted; even so I took it to mean that I should be expected to pour his tea in future.

He folded his paper carefully and set it down on the big table beside him. I felt his eyes scrutinise me and shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. I was grateful of the distraction when Carbaue arrived and breakfast was served.

As we sat enjoying breakfast, Mr Batard informed me of the house rules and I listened intently while he gravely informed me of them…

 

[cgraven]

The alluring Miss Thomas’ supple young body responded very quickly and very natural to Jean Batard and Carbaue’s sensually seductive touch. The innocent beauty’s areolas soon where puffy with wanton desire, her raspberry nipples taunt and puckered, and soft mewing sounds escaped her lips as Jean kiss deepened in to a very seductive call for Sandy to embrace this very wicked pleasure that coursed through her vibrant young body. He trilled as the tip of her pink little tongue so shyly ventured to his lips. Reluctantly, Jean Batard broke that sweet kiss, with Carbaue’s assistance the innocent young beauty bar was replaced. Again Jean swept the innocent golden haired beauty into his arms, again she was laid on her bed to awake with the dawn to wonder at the sensual dream that had visited her as she slept.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morning found the “Master” of the house seated with his morning journal.

“I trust Sandy that you slept well, strange surroundings and all.”

“Yes I slept well, thank you for asking.”

The Morning rituals of tea where played out as Carbaue served breakfast

“Ah My dear you mustn’t become to accustom to me pouring your tea, after all I am Still ‘Master” here.”

There was a twinkle in Jean Batard’s eyes his voice light and casual, yet all and all there was still a touch of steel in his words, not enough to cause alarm or concern, yet it was still there. Suddenly Jean became a bit more formal in his speech and manors.

“ Miss Thomas this is in essence a very traditional household.”

He paused taking the measure of his words on the young beauty.

“And like all well ordered house households it only functions if the rules of the house are strictly attired to.”

Again Jean paused for a moment

“If they are not then of course there are consequences.”

Jean Batard then went on to explain that though he did not believe in crudity to children he did believe in mild corporal punishment. That children should be encouraged to express them selves within reason, and that in his absence Carbaue was in charge and would be obeyed.

“I trust this does not cause you a problem Miss Thomas?”

Jean Batard hesitated for the briefest of moments and then went on not really giving Sandy a chance to object or question him further.

“I do believe it is high time you met young Brian your ward.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next week Sandy Thomas settled into her duties. The days took on a leisurely pace more fitting to the Gothic character of the house. It was on the following Monday that Sandy’s young ward broke a vase. Jean Batard was in town and Carbaue witnessed the accident.

“Miss Thomas do not chastise the boy, it was just an accident.”


When The Master returned and saw what had accrued and his grandson blissfully playing his countenance blanched.

“Miss Thomas Have Carbaue take Brian to his rooms and you will report to my study immediately.”

Jean Batard tone was sharp and his manner extremely formal, as he turned on his heel. Some moments later there was a soft knock on the study door.

“Enter”. Came his curt reply. Jean was seated behind his desk and as the young beauty entered he pushed back his chair.

“The Vase who did you chastise the boy?”

Batard’s anger was evident his hazel eyes flashed with anger.

“Come here Miss Thomas.”

His finger pointed in a most imperious Victorian fashion indicating the young and now apparently scare beauty to right by his chair. Jean Batard’s powerful hand shot out to draw the golden haired beauty closer yet, instinctively Sandy Thomas took a step back his hand tangled in her prim and proper skirt, the renting of the young skirt split in the stillness of the room. The sight of her shapely leg inflamed Batard’s passions he quickly drew the young woman over his knee. The helm of Sandy’s skirt was bunched around her trim waist, her firm well rounded little derrière was bared to his lustful gaze covered only by her panties Jean raised his hand high paused a moment and like a lightening strike;

CRACK

The first blow was quickly followed by three more blows, Jean’s powerful hand no sensually massaged the stunning young beauty’s derrière.

CRACK, CRACK , CRACK

All in all ten more sharp blows landed on Sandy’s bottom, they came in random order. Jean let the sharp sting fade before the next fell.


When her punishment was completed Jean Batard cradled the young girl in his arms now consoling her.

“Rules must be followed Sandy if a household is to run smoothly.”

Jean’s thumb brushed a tear from her flawless cheek.

“Discipline must be maintained, you may go to your room now, Dinner will be at eight this evening, please be prompt.”

He paused the back of his hand caressed the innocent young beauty’s cheek.

“I know you are a ’Good Girl’ and will not have to be disciplined again.


Yet already Jean Batard was planning a new trap for his young beauty. One that would bring him closer to claiming the ultimate prize her virginity and then her innocents.

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

On my second morning I was up early, seven o’clock to be precise, yet when I went downstairs to breakfast I was disappointed to find Mr Batard all ready seated. After breakfast I had a quiet word with Carbaue and discovered that Mr Batard arrived at quarter-to-seven every morning prompt. The next morning I was waiting for him in the Dinning Room, he looked surprised to see me when he entered, but said nothing. When I poured his tea I saw a slight smile of satisfaction cross his face.

The truth was I loved the old place and the people in it. It was like taking a step back in time and I found it almost romantic in it’s own charming way, it was how I imagined life must have been back then, with its carefully structured rules and routines, and the manner by which we were all so courteous to each other.

My meeting with Brian went very well and we appeared to get on famously. He was a typical boy, slightly cheeky with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and was no real bother at all. The days moved by and I was beginning to settle in comfortably. I had suffered no reoccurrence of my strangely vivid dreams, indeed I had quite forgotten about them and was looking forward to my starting college in two weeks time, which reminded me to have a word with Mr Batard about my popping into town to pick-up a few bits and pieces I would be needing for my studies.

It was the very next Monday when disaster struck. Brian knocked a vase over and it smashed, I in turn told him off, though Carbaue intervened, we cleaned up and the matter was forgotten about until Mr Batard returned home. He looked extremely annoyed as he bid Carbaue to take Brian to his room and spinning on his heel told me to attend him in his study.

Not knowing what to think I duly followed him to his study, only to have the door slammed in my face after he entered. I paused outside to compose myself. I had no idea what was going on, what was expected of me, or even why I apparently was in trouble, though it was pretty evident that I was.

Running my hands down the front of my skirt as I faced his study door, I took a deep breath and knocked.
”Enter.” Came the sharply reply.

He was sitting behind his desk as I solemnly stepped inside. Pushing his chair back from the desk he folded his arms before him.
“The Vase who did you chastise - the boy?”
He looked to be in a fine old rage. I was bewildered and didn’t know what to say.
“Come here Miss Thomas.”

Mr Batard pointed to a spot right beside his chair. I moved around his desk, my tummy completing several flip-flops with every step until I stood beside him. Suddenly his hand shot out toward me and I stepped back with fright. I heard my skirt split, a huge tear and then I felt myself being propelled forward to land firmly across Mr Batard’s lap. Before I could react my skirt was hoisted up my back to the small of my back and…
CRACK!

His hand slammed down on my bottom, followed quickly by three more slaps. I was mortified, but was unable to resist as he held me pinned down across his knees. My hand managed to work back as I attempted to preserve my dignity by pulling down my skirt and I was instantly rewarded with a slap across my hand and a extra hard smack across my bottom.

How many times he beat me I had no idea, but I was dumb-struck by his outburst and although I tried desperately hard to contain myself, I could not prevent the odd tear from spilling down my cheek. My entire bottom felt ablaze when he had finished.

He turned me over, pulling me toward him and holding me close as I fought to contain my tears.
“Rules must be followed Sandy if a household is to run smoothly.” He whispered soothingly, brushing a tear from my face. “Discipline must be maintained, you may go to your room now, Dinner will be at eight this evening, please be prompt.”

As I pulled myself out of his lap, his hand caressed the side of my face. “I know you are a good girl’ and will not have to be disciplined again.”

I went to my room where I lay on my bed and I cried to myself at the injustice of my treatment, and the humiliation of it, not to mention the loss of my skirt as well. My first reaction was to pack my things and leave, but as the burning pain across my beaten bottom subsided I remembered that this was principally a household trapped in a time-warp. What had been a totally intolerable form of punishment in my eyes was in fact quite normal and acceptable to this house and its occupants. I also remembered the sense of belonging I felt in such a place, and over the following couple of hours I reversed my decision and decided to stay, but only so long as such an injustice was not repeated, I told myself.

After cleaning myself up in the bathroom and changing my attire, I headed downstairs for dinner at eight feeling somewhat subdued and more than a little apprehensive.

 

[cgraven]

All that afternoon Jean Batard could not chase the delightful image of Sandy Thomas across his lap from his mind, quite the opposite he reveled in the memory of the afternoon’s events. The young beauty’s pathetic little struggles, the way her firm breast had pressed into his thighs, and her seductively rounded derrière. Jean grew aroused just at the memory of sensual the feel of girl’s virgin bottom under his hand, each little whimper that escaped her full ripe lips had been music to his ears.

The irritating gangling of the phone brought Jean Batard back to the present. The phone conversation was brief and as he replaced the receiver Jean was quite displeased for the affairs of his business required one of his rare trips to the city. His hand reached for the silver bell on his desk, its soft melodic notes called Carbaue to his study.

“Carbaue pack an overnight bag, and bring the car around, I fear my businesses requires a trip to the city.”

The Master of the houses eyes narrowed, his continence taking on a severe look.

“Carbaue Our Young Miss is quite innocent and most probably a virgin.”

Again Jean paused.

“And she will remain so Carbaue!..........I trust I make myself clear.

Yes Sir Came the simple reply from his valet.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mica Carbaue smiled to himself as the Master’s car disappeared down the gravel drive. He was alone in the house was the golden haired beauty and had every intention of making the most of the situation. His Master may be willing to wait to see Miss Sandy Thomas in all her naked glory, to play his games, but he was not..

The grandfather clock on the landing was just chiming 8 o’clock when Mica heard the soft tread of Young Miss Thomas’s dainty foot on the stair tread. The girl was primly dressed as always.

“Miss Thomas the Master has been called away on business and will return in a day or so you’ll be taking your supper Down Stairs this evening in the servants dinning room.”

Mica handed The young golden haired beauty a neatly penned note from Mr. Batard reminding her that in his absence Carbaue was in charge of the household.

The downstairs servant’s dinning room was paneled in oak wainscoting with brilliant white plastered walls above. The room was filled with a simple but large oak table that could sit twelve, a reminder of another time when it took a full staff to run the Gothic mansion. The room was hot being right off the kitchen and Sandy Thomas’s meal and tea where drugged, for the old valet had some very special plans for the lovely young live in Babysitter.

Mica Carbaue was no stranger to the art of seduction, the dinner conversation was light filled with little stories of the Master when he was a lad, that as a man he could be strict but was all in all the easiest of men to work for in all other regards, if one knew ones place. And so it went good food, good conversation, as the insidious drug once again lulled the unsuspecting young beauty into that dream like state of trance where she could not distinguish reality from dream.

The old Letcher guided the young beauty’s delicate fingers to the buttons of her blouse, reinforcing the familiar pattern that the Master had already established. Ah a spot on Sandy’s skirt, it needed to be cleaned. The subtitle rustle of fabric as the garment slid down her long athletic legs to pool around the young Miss’s trim ankles. It took longer for Mica to talk and ease Sandy out of her prim and proper bar. He could see the young beauty was having a great deal of difficulty keeping her soft blue eyes open as he eased her back to recline on the oaken table. The tip of Sandy’s pink little tongue moistened her parched lips as Mica Carbaue eased off her shoes, stripped the girl’s hose from her legs. He stood admiring the perfection of her youthful form, his fingers where like a ghost’s as they slowly temped the young innocent’s areolas and nipples to life. His hands almost trembled as his withered fingers hooked into the waist band of her panties and slowly drew them down exposing the first glimpse of the young girl’s soft, honey gold, fleecy down. Light butterfly kisses followed the retreating fabric down Miss Thomas’ alabaster thighs until Mica tossed away the flimsy garment. Slowly the old valet straiten, hardly daring to breath, for in all his years he had never seen such a gorgeous creature.

The soft fragrance of young Miss Thomas’ innocence filled his nostrils as he slowly spread her firm young thighs, his tongue darted out for a taste of this innocent little morsel, Mica drank deeply of Sandy’s innocent and claimed the first dewy drop of the girl’s sweet nectar. It took all his will power not to take her right then in there on the table. He lusted for her, to claim her virginity , yet the fear of his Master stopped him. Mica went to his quarters to fetch his camera. The flash of the 35mm capturing the young girl in all her naked glory, then reluctantly Mica Carbaue dressed the golden haired beauty and carried her to her bed. The sweet taste of her innocence still on his lips.

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

It was with some relief and surprise that Carbaue informed me of Mr Batard’s departure on urgent business matters. I read the note from Mr Batard informing me that I was to defer to Carbaue in all matters until he returned before allowing Carbaue to escort me down to the old servants dining room. It quickly became apparent that old Carbaue felt very much at home down here and regarded this as his domain. I sensed an energy about him that was difficult to place, he was very attentive, asking me how I felt, telling me stories about Master Batard as a child. Whether Carbaue was trying to make amends for events earlier in the day when I was spanked I had no idea, although the incident was never referred to. What I found most disconcerting was the way Carbaue seemed to be watching me so intently, as though he were expecting me to sprout another head or something.

Dinner was served, though slightly more spicy than I would have preferred. The stories Carbaue recited over dinner were humorous enough and I found myself relaxing into his company. In time his stories lost their interest and his voice became a drone as I fought to remain focused and not appear rude. No matter how I tried, I slipped away on a timeless mist of nothingness.

I found my fingers popping the buttons one by one down the front of my blouse, although I had absolutely no idea why they should do such a thing; it just occurred to me that it was what I should do.

Carbaue? What was that he was saying? My skirt… I’d spilt something on it – I had? Try as I might I couldn’t find what it was that I had spilt.
Why not take it off and let him take care of it?
Of course, I should take it off and let Carbaue tend to it. That was generous of him, he was a kindly old man.

I rose from my chair at the table and unfastened the waist of my skirt, allowing it to glide down to my feet, and there he was, Carbaue, what on earth was he doing down there looking up at me?
’Hello!’ Did I just giggle?
Why yes, how foolish of me, pick-up my feet so Carbaue can collect my fallen skirt – how did that get down there?
My bra? No silly, that’s not proper Carbaue, I mustn’t take off my bra – that’s rude!

Carbaue walked me to the end of the long table, though why I was only half dressed was a mystery to me. I watched through heavy eyes as he pulled aside the chair from the end of the table and turned me around so I could perch myself down on the end of the table and rest.
My bra - what for?
I should rest.

Somewhere through the swirling depths I remembered waking up some days ago and finding myself fully dressed, and how mystified I had been by that – no, I did need to take my bra off, but it was such a struggle reaching up behind me. Ah! There it was, slipping off all on its own. Was that Carbaue, was he really here? Couldn’t be; I was going to bed – needed sleep, must sleep.

I eased back onto the hard cold mattress and exhaled deeply feeling that strange tingly sensation across my breasts. Oh dear! I was having one of those naughty dreams again, how real they felt theses days. My legs seemed to part and I swear to goodness I could feel a man’s rough face pressing between my soft thighs and then a tongue…
Oh my God! My eyes fluttered open and for the briefest of moments I was staring up at the off-white ceiling of the servants’ dining room. Quicker than a wink, I drifted gently back into nothingness with a question fluttering through my mind… ‘Was I naked?’

I woke the following morning in a panicky state. How had I got to bed last night and why was I fully dressed on top of my bed? I remembered my dream and how vivid it had all seemed, and then I had this curious picture in my head of a dirty white ceiling, of Carbaue taking my hand and leading me dressed in just my underwear, of him kneeling before me, staring up at me as he collected my skirt.

Bewildered I shook my head in an attempt to banish the swirling images that haunted my mind. I was wearing my skirt and my blouse, in fact I was fully dressed – the dream made no sense at all. I got up, slipped out of my clothes and headed for the shower. As I soaped myself down beneath the shower I recalled the lightening flashes and remembered that there must have been a dreadful storm, which was odd in so much as I rarely slept through storms. A bump outside in my bedroom startled me back to reality…
“Hello?” I called. “Carbaue… is that you?”

Nervously I crept out of the shower, draping a towel before me as I reached the door and opened it a crack. Spying through the gap I could make out nothing, I slowly opened the door to survey my room. There was nobody present; shrugging my shoulders I turned back to the bathroom and spotted that the door leading into my room was ajar!

I closed my bedroom door after peering out across the landing trying to fathom what was going on. I towelled myself off and went to dress, it was then that I made the startling discovery, I could not find a single pair of my briefs anywhere, not even the pair I had discarded before going for my shower.

The discovery upset me greatly, I was horrified by the thought that someone had deliberately come into my room whilst I was in the shower and taken all my underwear, but who would do such a thing – Brian? Surely not, he was just a child and even as a prank he surely wouldn’t have taken every single pair I owned, which left Carbaue? But why?

I had no idea how I was going to handle this as I went downstairs, very conscious of the fact that beneath my skirt I was naked…

 

[cgraven]

Carbaue smiled with delight as he developed the 35mm pictures of the stunning Miss Sandy Thomas. If this young beauty caused him any trouble, he would use the pictures against her. They told a story that would not be flattering to the Young Miss. He dainty, nimble, fingers opening her prim and proper little blouse, shedding it from her ivory shoulders. Yes this one too, the old Valet thought. The tip of her pink little tongue moistening her parched lips, as she lay lewdly naked of the old oaken table, her supple athletic thighs spread wide, the lips of her labia glistening with the girls own dewy nectar.

Mica laid his head on his pillow and the vision of the innocent Miss Thomas’ body arched as he feasted on her innocence filled his dreams.

Mica woke with the first light, as was his custom. He knew he was tempting fate, yet now that he had seen the Sandy in all her naked glory he wanted more. Almost as if they had a mind of their own his feet led him to the west wing of the Gothic mason and Sandy’s bedroom door. He pressed his ear to the door, and the muted sound of running water greeted his ears, ever so slowly the door knob twisted in his hand. Mica’s palms where sweating as he eased the door open, quickly he went to his task, and shortly all of the young beauty's under garments where in a silken pillow case. It was then the old Letcher spied the golden haired beauty’s soiled panties, he scooped them from the chair, held them to his nose and inhaled deeply. Her fragrance intoxicated him

“Hello?...............Carbaue… is that you?”

Panic filled Mica’s heart as suddenly the shower stopped, he quickly slipped from the Live-in- Babysitter’s room. The door was just ajar as the bathroom door open and he squired down the hall.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning passed uneventfully Jean Batard was at the kitchen table when Sandy Thomas came down for breakfast.

“I trust all went well while I was away Sandy?”

Jean hardly waited for a reply before he continued.

“My tea Sandy…….do join me my dear for breakfast.”

Carbaue hovered around the pair until Jean went out to begin his daily routine, then he to disappeared to tend too his duties.


---------------------------------------------------------------------

It was just before dinner Sandy had put her young charge to bed and was coming down the back servants hall when Carbaue suddenly appeared. In stead of passing the young beauty as he normally did he suddenly turned pinning the young college girl to the wall her arms above her head and kissed her full on the mouth, while pressing his body to her supple young form, and his groin grinding into the young innocent’s belly. Suddenly he broke the Kiss.

“Sandy..............Chere, you where magnificent last night”

He stilled held her hands pinned .

”What a naughty Little thing you are.”

Then he slipped away down the hallway while the young beauty was still in shock.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Jean heard a panicked knock on his study door.

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

I entered the Dinning room looking for Carbaue, fully intent on having it out with the old servant when I found Mr Batard sitting at the table reading his morning paper. My agitation quickly changed to confusion. I had no idea Mr Batard had returned home. It was perfectly possible that old Carbaue was not the culprit, Mr Batard was equally as capable of removing all my underwear, though somehow I was less inclined to believe a gentleman such as Mr Batard would do such a thing. Similarly I failed to understand why Carbaue would either, but clearly someone had.
“I trust all went well while I was away Sandy?”
“Why yes, thank you…” I tried to conceal my flustered state as Mr Batard continued…
“My tea Sandy… do join me my dear for breakfast.”
“Of course – forgive me…” I poured Mr Batard’s tea and set his cup and sauce down for him within reach…

I watched Carbaue carefully as he served us breakfast, but he gave no sign of guilt or that anything was a miss and I had to admit I was more confused than ever by the disappearance of my underwear and who could possibly be behind it.
“What time did you return home?” I asked casually.
“Shortly before breakfast. Set off early to miss the morning rush of traffic.” Batard replied.
It didn’t tell me much, other than he was a possible candidate. “Did you miss the storm?”
“What storm?”
“We had a storm last night?”

Carbaue glanced at me nervously and I looked across at him puzzled. Quickly he turned away.
“You did? Well we didn’t have one in the city – stroke of luck that we missed it I should say.”
“I’m not sure it was thundering – although I suppose it must of, but I do recall it was lightening.”
“Oh! Well I’m afraid I must have missed that my dear.”


Mr Batard departed shortly afterwards and I quickly left the table too, in case Carbaue showed up in the Dinning Room while I was alone. There was something about him that I was beginning to mistrust. The rest of the day past by uneventfully, until that was I ran into Carbaue at the foot of the back staircase after putting young Brian to bed.

As I was about to pass him by, the old man suddenly turned, grabbed my wrists and pushed me up against the wall. His lips pressed full against mine as he held my hands high above my head. As I twisted my head away from his lips he whispered in my ear…
“Sandy... Chere, you where magnificent last night - what a naughty little thing you are.”

I was in a state of shock as I fled down the hall. Immediately I went straight to Mr Batard’s study and rapped hard on the door, barely waiting to hear him to invite me in as I rushed inside.
“Mr Batard… please…” I gasped, puffing for air. “It’s Carbaue! He’s just… just…” words escaped me as Mr Batard stared at me in alarm, urging me to continue. “accosted me in the hall and forced himself upon me… kissing me – it was horrible!” I blurted out with a loud sob.

 

[cgraven]

The soft knock became a pounding on Jean’s study’s door.

“What”

There was agitation in Jean’s voice and Miss Sandy Thomas came rushing in.

“Mr. Batard… please…”

The agitated young Miss gasped, puffing for air.

“It’s Carbaue! He’s just… just…”

Jean Batard sharp hazel eyes stared at the golden haired beauty in apparent disbelief.

“………………………accosted me in the hall and forced himself upon me… kissing me – it was horrible!”

The innocent young Miss Thomas blurted out with a loud sob.

“Come here Miss Thomas.”

Jean motioned with his finger for the agitated girl to stand right before him.

“Accosted you, you say!”

The Master of the house casual flipped open a manila folder that had lain closed on his desk. And there where the photographs that Carbaue had taken of Sandy Thomas in her drugged state. The innocent young girl’s pale blue eyes where wide with disbelief as she saw her dainty, nimble, fingers opening her prim and proper little blouse, shedding it from her ivory shoulders, the tip of her pink little tongue moistening her parched lips, as she lay lewdly naked of the old oaken table, her supple athletic thighs spread wide, the lips of her labia glistening with the girls own dewy nectar.

“Accosted you, Miss Thomas or just continuing an affair already begun.”

Jean Batard’s cold hazel eyes captured young Sandy’s he held them captive as a snake holds a bird mesmerized in its gaze.

“Miss Thomas can you explain these photographs, it does not appear that you are being forced in any way.”

Jean paused a moment, his voice and eyes softening, before offering the confused young beauty a possible explanation.

“Could it be that you had too much to Drink Miss Thomas, say wine with dinner?”

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

I stared at the pictures in total disbelief, my hand raised to my open mouth as the full and brutal horror was laid before me. I didn't understand, it was like a bad dream all rolled into one - how had I got myself into such a situation, it was impossible...
“Could it be that you had too much to Drink Miss Thomas, say wine with dinner?”

Did I have wine at dinner? I simply couldn't remember, I supposed I must have. Drunk? Well anything was possible, perhaps that's why I didn't recall the situation, any of it... except there was something, a dream, of sorts. Had it not been a dream, had I really laid myself out on the table naked while Carbaue... Oh my God!

I wept. The shame, the horror of it - how could I have been so decadent and immoral, especially with an old man such as Carbaue...

 

[cgraven]

Sandy Thomas’ wide eyed horror, changed to a blank uncomprehending stare at the lewd pictures of herself, as she desperately tried to piece together the events of the evening before. Then her flawless cheeks blushed crimson slowly turning to scarlet with her shame. A tear trickled down the young beauty’s cheek and she shook with the sobs of her shame.

“Miss Thomas we are not wholly responsible for our actions when intoxicated, the frivolity of youth I can understand.”

Jean’s voice and eyes softened and there was almost sadness in them as he continued.

“Miss Thomas…………….Sandy those I can understand such a slip in judgment in one as young as you your position requires a standard higher than that of a mere servant.”

Again Jean Batard paused letting his words sink in to the young beauty’s mind.

“I fear I must discipline you for a second time Sandy Please raise your skirt and lay across my lap…..We do not want another ruined skirt now do we?”

 

[sandmartin]

Sandy:

My mind was a confused mass of possibilities, horrors and disbelief that made no sense to me at all. I could not refute the evidence before me, no matter how shocking and unbelievable, there was no questioning precisely who it was that lay naked like a common whore for the whole world to leer and giggle at.

Whilst I was totally repulsed by the disgusting pictures of myself, a part of me refused to accept that I could willingly do such a thing. Looking at the pictures more carefully it was possible to accept that I was drunk, my eyes gave that away, and I did recall lying on the big oak table, staring up at the ceiling with a sense of being naked. I just could not imagine myself going from clothed to naked in front of any other persons, I simply wouldn’t do that…

Mr Batard continued to shuffle the cards in an endless cycle, and not knowing where else to look, I watched the pictures slip by shamefully. Every so often the two worst would flip by. The one that showed me stretched out across the table, totally naked, eyes semi-closed, breasts standing proudly and legs spread wide in open invitation. The second one was worse still, it was a picture taken up between my legs, filling the photograph with an image of my sex. Each time these two pictures cycled by I wanted to run away and hide. That Mr Batard could sit there slowly shuffling through the pictures, staring at me naked was deeply humiliating.

“Miss Thomas…………….Sandy those I can understand such a slip in judgment in one as young as you your position requires a standard higher than that of a mere servant.”
‘He is going to dismiss me.’ I thought, and who would blame him. One didn’t employ a child minder who acted like a trollop. The positive side of it was that I wouldn’t have to face him again, knowing that he had seen such pictures of me.
“I fear I must discipline you for a second time Sandy. Please raise your skirt and lay across my lap…..We do not want another ruined skirt now do we?”

‘WHAT!?’ My mind screamed, but I had no underwear on, there was no way.
“But…” I began…
“Sandy, do as I say.”
“I can’t I hav…”
“But I must insist.” His temper began to flair making me very nervous. “Now lift your skirt up.”
“I don’t…”
“DO IT!” He practically bellowed, causing me to jump with fright.

Slowly I lifted my skirt, fighting back the tears, knowing that I had no underwear on, that he must see. Holding the sides of my skirt at my hips so that both the front and the back hung down, shielding my nudity.

Mr Batard positively bristled with anger, his voice rising in a crescendo. “Properly – right up – all the way…”

Despite my embarrassment, I hitched up my skirt and stared at him aghast as he sat only a few feet away looking directly at my nakedness…