The Party Boy

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“But I can bathe myself,” a young Jack protests.

“You won’t. Not while I am your governess... not while I have the responsibility of assuring your cleanliness.”

And not while I so much enjoy the feel of young and smooth hairless skin, I am tempted to add.

Newly appointed as governess, the wealthy parents of Jack have decided that despite his age, nearing puberty, the scamp needs watching. In a huff, too many of the household help have departed, not able to withstand the many pranks. And of late, with hormones beginning to flow, the pranks have become somewhat libidinous, hiding to spy on the maids during toilet and bathing being just one.

My resume is strong in bringing up boys... though only ten years Jack’s senior, I have many years of experience. I raised two very obedient, very respectful to women, younger brothers. Nursing school followed. A term in the children’s ward of a New York hospital furthered my abilities concerning potentially unruly boys. Thereafter, temperament and authoritative manner forged, I struck out on my own.

Being a governess involves countless hours, round the clock duties. Jack is my third effort. And no less a challenge than all the others.

By now I have rituals, knowing very well how to bring a fractious lad down a notch or two, and earn respect. Thus Jack’s first bath.

“I’ve never had a bath like this!” another protest.

“You should now consider yourself fortunate,” I banter, knowing that ultimately I will have total authority over his nakedness.

I have drawn some twelve inches of warm sudsy bath water and direct young Jack to enter and kneel on all fours.

“Why can’t I sit... like normal?”

“Because I need to wash you... all of you. And I need access... to all of you,” my tone turning ominous with the latter words. “Now take off your robe. Don’t be bashful. I’ve scrubbed many boys.”

Ah, that initial moment of introduction, a naked boy and a fully clothed supervising woman. The exchange of power is palpable. And I smile, noting that the protests cease and silence ensues. It makes one wonder why obstreperous boys aren’t kept naked all the time.

Jack has a fine youthful body, his p***s already swinging away. He quickly enters the tub and kneels, incorrectly believing he will somehow veil from me his privates. I stifle laughter.

“Now you just kneel and let Governess Kelly do all the work,” my voice soothing in response to his new found docility.

Yes, the feel of young hairless flesh, the power over what will soon become male brawn. It is now in these years that I can mold it, bring respect, and enforce discipline. It is Jack’s first bath... of many.

A soaped chamois cloth swaths, my free hand also exploring. The warmth brings a sense of calm and I know to occasionally run more hot water to assure the lad’s tranquility. I note that when I playfully tweak a n****e, Jack objects not, instead smiling, my touch becoming acceptable. And I am delighted when my hands slowly rub back and belly, moving to cute buttocks, and there comes not a word.

“We do need to wash... all of you,” the once ominous tone becoming more playful.

The chamois works between the thighs. I am testing. And I smile in satisfaction as young Jack, either deliberately or inadvertently, it matters not, further parts his knees in invitation. Realizing there will be no outbursts, my free hand joins the chamois. I want to feel his p***s, palpate his little balls, set an aura of ownership from day one... that in the bathtub, Jack becomes mine.

I am delighted to feel a smattering of stubble, puberty beckoning.

“You’re growing hair, Jack.... down here. That’s not a good thing.”

An outright prevarication, or course, but he knows not that it is normal. I will deal with the growth at another time, but at this time I also want to wash a young brain... hair growth... not good.

I am further delighted when my soft soapy caresses bring stirring to a youthful p***s. At this point I will ignore, not wanting him to in any way feel embarrassed in standing for me. In time he will do that for me on cue... and learn to both loathe it and oddly enjoy it.

So I retract my hands and move to the buttocks. Ah, a likely place for good scrubbing... and penetration.

“Have you had a bowel movement today?” my tone of voice becoming clinical.

“I guess so.”

“Well it’s not good to guess. From now on I will supervise your bathroom visits. All my boys are regular... kept regular,” I must add.

I wash thoroughly and a soapy index finger presses to that tight little sphincter. I work and again sensing no physical or verbal resistance, I enter, penetrating slowly, then wriggling about. Even at Jack’s young age I know that developing are the workings of the male anatomy. What my cleansing hands commenced, my penetrating finger will complete. Jack groans but protests not. I surreptitiously lower my head to the side, not wanting him to know I am observing his budding manhood.

Yes, he’s stiff.

Now for the Governess’s coup de grace, establishing power and authority never to be denied.

“All done, Jack. Stand for me and I will dry you,” rising from my kneeling position to obtain a towel.

Boys of Jack’s age are chagrined concerning hard-ons. He, of course, does not move. And I, of course, begin to cross examine concerning his reluctance to fully expose himself to me.

We will have a long talk concerning my duties and his p***s. Being totally exposed and erect before a fully clothed woman will never be totally acceptable... always bring a brisance of humiliation. But Jack will come to learn that such is the way it is. I am in charge... and if I want him stiff and naked so be it.