Celine's Seduction To Rubber

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Lessons To Learn

Thus I am brought to this fateful point in my life, where my story truly begins.

After his discovery, my father would not see me for the rest of that day nor speak or listen to me for another five such days. Michael and I agreed it would be best that he should stay away for a while, and agreed not to see each other until the air had cleared. In the meantime I went on with my schooling and took care of the house as before. My father, being a writer of college text books, continued his work in solitude. In his study, the pounding keys of his typewriter continued to sound, but more and more came the harsh mechanical screech of the typewriter’s feed mechanism when another unfinished page was ripped savagely from the machine. The sounds of the paper being crumpled as it was consigned to the waste bin crackled in my ears, each added sheet weighing more heavily on my conscience.

On the seventh day following the unfortunate bedroom encounter, I was again seated upon my bed trying to study for my next afternoon’s lessons, although this time alone. However, my thoughts kept drifting to other matters and my mind was not on my lessons, for Michael’s image appeared before me, floating above each page of text until once more I felt the wetness form upon and within my s*x. I was sadly unable then to ignore the temptation of using my own soft fingers to caress my throbbing c******s and swear to you, that this was the first time, other than that fateful day with Michael, that my body had known such caress! Sadly, oh so sadly, this was the very moment that my father chose to end his silence and distance from me. I did not heard him enter the room and was oblivious to his presence until the resounding slap of both his hands upon his face jolted me from my privacy. I turned to see his head bent in his scholar’s hands.

“Oh Celine!!” he cried out in dismay, “What has become of you?! First, you let that … that boy take advantage of your body; and now I find that even when alone you cannot be trusted to control your carnal desires!” As his arms dropped to his sides, his shoulders sagged and he shook his head, unable to understand what he had seen. “Now I am certain that the decision I have made is most surely the right one.”

I expected to hear that I was to be punished, probably physically, for the first time in my life, but how could I hope to convince him that the two occasions on which he had caught me were the only ones? Surely what I had done could not be so bad? Other girls my age had experimented with s****l pleasure and one had even managed to fall pregnant by a younger boy. Naturally, the pair’s scholastic studies had ended abruptly thereby, but this was not my crime! I stood up before him with my head lowered, but remained silent.

“I have decided to employ a Governess to look after you, Celine.”

His words came as a total shock for I was a young adult and in less than a year would be seeking employment as such; beginning a new phase of my life.

“B-but father!?” I stuttered, “A Governess? I am already seventeen! What use can a Governess be to me now?” I started to shake my head in disbelief. “Perhaps after Mother died such a step might have had some merit,” I continued, “but surely you would be wasting money to employ a teacher for me now?”

“It is not your schoolwork that has brought this decision, Celine,” my father broke in. “I cannot stand by and see your morals sink into an abyss of your own making. This woman is held in high regard by my friend and fellow scholar, Johan Strang, whose foolish daughter Kristel brought a similar shame upon his house only a year ago.” He began now to pace back and forth before me, his head bowed and his hands joined behind his back.

“Frau Baxter, your new Governess, is of English birth,” he continued. “She has held many such positions in her time, and will be arriving Friday next. You are to prepare the bedroom next to yours in time for her arrival.”

So, not only was I to have a Governess, but a twenty-four hour a day, live-in chaperone! Was I not a young woman with the s****l needs of one my age? Had he failed to notice me growing up? This was very much an over-reaction by him I felt, but, I could see that his mind was set, for already the arrangements had been made. I was now held so low in his esteem that there would be little chance of arguing my case and so carried on as before, living the next days in dread anticipation of what Frau Baxter’s arrival would mean. Her quarters were prepared as instructed, but I took care to move in the largest furniture available in the other vacant rooms, hoping to make her small chamber appear less than welcoming. Naively, I dared to hope that she would reject the accommodation offered, and in so doing refuse the position. It was a relief that I had not been moved to this smaller room myself to make way for this new duenna.

Frau Baxter arrived promptly at ten o’clock on the Friday morning, as she had written she would. I was dressed in my Sunday Best, and stood almost to attention beside my father to complete the welcoming committee. How can I best describe this woman? She was taller by far than I; her shoulders level with my father’s, and held her imposing form erect like a military man. Frau Baxter carried two suitcases; one grasped in her left hand and the other held effortlessly under that same arm. In her right hand she held a rolled umbrella and the letter containing my father’s offer of employment. She was dressed in a severe, grey, pin-striped, and tight-fitting suit that would have looked in place in any City office. On her head there jauntily sat a wide-brimmed, fawn-coloured hat with blue ribbon and matching feather.

“Welcome, Frau Baxter!” my father beamed, bending at the waist as though encountering royalty. “I trust you had a pleasant journey?” he asked, stepping forward to take the suitcase she was lowering to the ground.

“Yes. Indeed, Sir,” she answered, her words chopped short, not a syllable wasted, and spoken with the confidence of her stature. “I am pleased to meet you, Herr Vassen!”

She placed letter and umbrella on the suitcase top and stretched out her right hand to my father. I could see he was taken aback by the strength of her exaggerated handshake and felt myself begin to wilt while absorbing the full extent of the woman’s imposing presence. She glanced sideways at me, but made no acknowledgement of my presence; nor did she seem to expect any greeting from me.

“Show Frau Baxter to her room, Celine. I will bring up the bags.”

I nodded acknowledgement of my father’s words and turned towards the stairs. The Governess followed me, pausing only to speak again to my father.

“There are also two trunks which the taxi driver has now gone to collect from the Station Luggage Office. I will oversee their reception later,” she finished.

I wondered where she would stow all this luggage in her small room, should she decide to stay.

The door to her room opened easily and I stood aside, but she made no move to enter; only sticking her head inside and glancing quickly around.

“Now, show me your room, young woman!”

She stood back so that I could lead the way. Her sentence had not been a request, but rather an order and I was too overawed to disobey. Upon opening the door of my bedroom she stepped straight in and walked a full circle of it, peering penetratingly left and right, inspecting its every corner. She glanced at my oversize bed, towards me, then back to the bed. By now my father had reached the doorway and seeing us inside, lowered the two suitcases to the floor. Frau Baxter’s next words came like a thunderbolt to shatter my world. I had by now half-expected that she would request of my father a change of rooms and grew surer each minute that she wanted my own, but it was to be worse. Much worse.

“I think,” she began, “it would be much better, if for the first few days at least, I shared this bedroom with your daughter.” I staggered back towards the doorway, but she continued relentlessly. “I suggest that we remove some of the superfluous furniture from this room, and replace this giant bed with two more reasonably sized.”

I had expected her to take control of my days and knew that there would be many changes to my routine, but to have to share my room, and with this ... this middle-aged English woman?!

“No father. No, please! I am happy to move to the smaller room if that is necessary, but I do not wish to share a room. There are ample spares. It is so unfair!” I pleaded. Frau Baxter stood stone-faced, seemingly unruffled by my outburst, but her eyes never left my father’s.

“I assure you it will be for the best, Herr Vassen,” she said. Her lip now curled as though she was sharing with him a secret, one unheard by me.

“I am sure you are right, Frau Baxter,” he answered. He was about to say more, but the Governess cut him off.

“I will see to it after we have had some lunch, Sir,” she said. “Your daughter and I will manage the changes so that you need not be disturbed.”

So it was that after Frau Baxter had been given a brief tour of the house and taken delivery of her two enormous trunks, we all sat down to a light lunch and some wine. She watched my every move at the table without comment and when the meal was over, turned to me.

“Please leave us now. I have much to talk over with your father. You will spend the time stripping the linens from your bed in preparation for its removal.”

I was struck speechless, and so meekly left the dining room and proceeded as ordered to my bedroom. After stripping off the blankets, sheets, and pillowcases, I sat on the edge of the bare mattress, chin in cupped hands to think over my predicament. It was now very doubtful that Michael and I would be allowed to see or even contact each other, and apparent that he would remain off limits, for the present at least. What other restrictions might this ogress impose upon me with the full consent and backing of my father?

Frau Baxter appeared at my door some ten minutes later, minus her jacket and with the sleeves of her starched white blouse rolled neatly above her elbows. I rose from the bed and faced her.

“I have had a nice chat with your father, Celine, and have persuaded him that for the next few days it would be advantageous for you to remain exclusively upstairs in my care.” I limply sat back down, wondering miserably what else my father had agreed to in my absence. “I have closely observed your attitude and behaviour since my arrival,” she continued, “including your manners at table. These observations, coupled with what your father has told me of your past s****l behaviour, make it imperative that I begin you upon a corrective course at once, and in great earnest.”

So, I was to become a virtual prisoner in my own room. There was no school for me to attend until Tuesday next, and therefore no excuse to beg leave of this imposition until then; almost four days hence. Fear clutched my heart and I tried to dash past my captor, needing then to speak to my father alone. He had to be made to understand what he was doing to me. As I attempted to brush past Frau Baxter, she stepped aside and I thought my way was open, but quick as a flash she turned on her heel and my right shoulder was held in a vice-like grip that stopped me in my tracks.

My prison term had begun.