Academy of Littles

by Allison West

  She shut her eyes and clenched the bed sheets, afraid to watch, not that she could see what was happening until it was done. Her position was unflattering at best.

  The door opened and Philip locked eyes with Etta.

  She wanted to slam her legs shut and deny him the sight of her naked body, but she felt the razor stroking down, coming right alongside her clit. There was no way she was going to move and risk injury. A flush spread from her cheeks… down her neck and across her breasts.

  Philip did well not to stare at her naked form, his eyes remained on her face the entire time. How did he manage to do that? It must have taken great restraint.

  "I hope you are doing well this morning," he said as he approached Nanny Mae and stood beside her, looking down at her progress with the cunny shaving. "How has she been, Nanny Mae?"

  The woman cleared her throat and met Etta's blue stare. "Nothing I could not handle, for a new pupil."

  Why had Nanny Mae lied for Etta? Had she been concerned about him finding out the truth, that she could not be controlled, or was the nanny doing her a favor, trying to help her out? Etta watched their exchange, not saying a word.

  "I am pleased to hear it," Philip said and nodded, seeming gratified with the news.

  He ran his finger along the cleanly shaven flesh, checking the nanny's handiwork. Etta gasped, but remained still, since the razor still rested precariously close to her clit.

  His finger ran from the top of her pussy lip all the way to her taint, pausing right before making contact with her anus. He reached out with his other hand, gently took the razor out of Nanny Mae's hand and began stroking it along Etta's skin, finishing Nanny Mae's job for her.

  The man was shaving her private bits and she could do nothing about it. She couldn't even find the words to plead, or demand, or even ask nicely for him to stop. A tingling sensation attacked her cunny, and her little pearl throbbed in need. Philip's fingers maneuvered her flesh around so he could shave the remaining hair, every ministration somehow enhancing her need for more. His touch… the way he studied her bare cunny… the way she was lying with her legs spread wide before him… the way she remained helpless at his hand, and not wanting to fight the act in the slightest.

  "Very nice, Nanny Mae. Very nice indeed." He pulled his hand away, handing the razor back to the nanny, and made his way back to the door. "After her morning bath, I would like to have her join me for breakfast. Do you think you can make that happen?"

  "Yes, sir. Of course," Mae said.

  Did the nanny ever tell him no? If she was not mistaken, Philip Hartley was the nanny's employer. Etta doubted that Nanny Mae would not have tried to make Etta ready on time, even if it was an impossibility. She'd probably send her to visit him naked if they ran out of time.

  "I shall see you later, my little one." He gave a brief wave and left her bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  Etta breathed a sigh of relief once he left the two of them alone.

  "That was not so bad," Nanny Mae said, finished with the razor. "You are smooth now, just as Papa Philip likes it. Do you know you are the first girl who is here just for him?"

  Etta did not quite know what that meant, but she suspected it was a good thing. "Oh?" she asked.

  "Come now. It is time for your bath. You will not have time to play. We need to get you washed and dressed so that Papa can see you again for breakfast."

  Chapter 6

  It had taken Philip all the restraint in the world not to claim little Etta right then and there as he had stared down at her beautiful blossoming body, drinking in the sight of her perky breasts and the half-shaven hair that Nanny Mae had worked to remove. He had never shaved a little before, but found the chore quite delightful.

  His cock throbbed in his pants as he walked back to his room.

  He had made all the papas wait until the girls had graduated before they could have their way with the ladies. He would not allow himself to break his own rules, just so he could fuck her tight little quim.

  Philip needed a distraction. Just knowing that Etta would be going for her bath was making his cock rock solid in his trousers. He stalked down the stark white hall, heading for the playroom in order to check on the other littles and their papas. The ceiling looked like the outside sky, for it had been painted in a pale blue with wisps of white clouds, as it would be on a sunny day. The curtains covering the windows matched the walls with a warm, sunny yellow. When Philip had helped in designing the layout of the nursery, he had insisted on replicating as much of an outdoor feeling as possible, since the littles were to be kept mostly indoors.

  Shelves of toys lined the furthest wall from the door, with everything from blocks to stuffed animals. Philip had hired the best doll makers and craftsmen, insisting that the toys were to be gifts. Very few could know the truth without repercussions.

  Near the door, a white-painted wooden table was most often used for the nannies to sit at and speak to one another, or for the papas to discuss their little ones with one another. At the opposite wall by the door, a rocking chair had seen more use than most of the items in the nursery. The worn wood needed a good refinishing, but a replacement hadn't yet been purchased, and to go without a rocking chair for any length of time would prove difficult.

  Papa Francis, a banker with whom Philip had done quite a lot of business, sat in the rocking chair, cuddling Leda. Her nanny had dressed her in a dark red gown with a bright white bow on the front. She wore a bonnet, and her cheeks were as red as the dress, which served only to make her look far younger. Had her papa been giving her special attention? Papa Francis's daily time with Leda was limited, what with his job and, more importantly, the visiting hours the chateau allowed for the papas. The little ones were on a strict schedule to instill discipline, which meant the papas could not break the rules either. Leda's brown unruly curls had been tamed, much like the young woman. On her arrival she'd been bossy and bratty, disinterested in following the rules, and the staff had soon found that a harsh spanking had not been enough to keep the girl in line. Leda had had her bottom bruised on more than one occasion as she displayed poor choices repeatedly.

  At the moment, she sat curled in her papa's embrace, his hands smoothing over her back as he cuddled the little one in his arms.

  "Leda," Philip said, coming toward the rocking chair. He bent down, drawing closer to her eye level. "I want you to be a good girl and show our newest little Etta the playroom. Will you do that after she has finished with her bath?"

  The young brunette was a few years older than Etta. She had been at the Ashby Chateau far longer than any other student. Her Papa Francis had paid a great deal to ensure her submission to him, but it had not come as easily as any of the staff would have liked. Leda had been temperamental, insubordinate, and had even run away on two separate occasions.

  Philip was taking a huge risk by asking his most troublesome pupil to help guide Etta to be a good little one. He had to trust that the work he'd done with Leda would last, and that she'd seen the error of her ways and would not make the same mistakes a fourth time around.

  Leda nodded, staring up at her papa. "I shall show her the new dollhouse. We can play with it together."

  "That would be nice of you, child." Philip stood back up. "Why don't you go and play so your papa and I can have a word alone?"

  The brunette clung to her papa, unwilling to let him go.

  "Leda," Papa Francis's voice was stern, "you need to listen to Headmaster Philip."

  Whining, she untangled herself from her papa's embrace and sauntered off toward the oversized dollhouse that had been made especially for the little ones.

  Philip waited until Leda was out of earshot. "I have been wanting to discuss with you Leda's progress. I think it is time we considered finishing her schooling here and sending her home to live with you."

  Francis frowned.

  The joyous look that Philip had expected on the papa's face never came. "Is there something wrong, Francis?"

&
nbsp; "I have some concerns that Leda's submission is an act so she can finish with the chateau and leave the facility."

  Philip's brow furrowed and his expression turned grim. "Do you have any proof of this game you believe her to be playing?"

  Francis shook his head. "She has done everything asked of her in the past six months. We have connected physically and emotionally, but something does not feel quite right."

  Philip expelled a heavy sigh. "Perhaps it is merely because you are used to Leda's temper and insubordination. Do you prefer her unruly behavior?" Philip had seen it before, the papas becoming attached to the discipline more than the reward-seeking behavior. Some men found their sexual appetite wetted with harsh spankings, and as their little began to behave, their desire diminished. Philip had worked diligently to weed out such cases, undertaking a thorough examination of each papa before admitting their little into his school.

  Francis watched Leda from across the room as she played with her doll and the dollhouse. "No. I do not believe that is the case. I truly feel that her behavior will change when we leave together."

  Philip understood how Francis felt. "There will be an adjustment the first few days, and that is why we can send a nanny to accompany you to ensure Leda has adjusted appropriately. Of course, there will be an additional charge for those services."

  "Paying you is not the problem. I am concerned Leda will leave me, Philip. Her desire is shown, but I do not always feel it."

  "We shall keep you both at Ashby for a little while longer. When you are ready to take Leda home, I shall make sure Nanny Mae or another nanny can accompany you both home. I assure you, Francis, you will not be disappointed."

  "Thank you."

  Philip left the playroom, his stomach tense. Had he made a mistake deciding to put Leda and Etta together? If Leda had been fooling the system, then surely she'd teach Etta the same tricks. No. Francis had to be paranoid. Philip had never known a little one to be so manipulative after spending five years at the chateau. His own, new little one would be just fine.

  Chapter 7

  Etta climbed into the bathtub. The water was warm but not as steaming as she'd have liked it. Her fingers moved along the surface, making slight waves with a back and forth motion. She did not try and fight Nanny Mae, as it did very little good. Her bottom felt sore, especially in the warm water, and she did not dare risk another swat.

  Nanny Mae grabbed a small cloth and dunked it in to wet it. She reached for the bar of soap, creating enough suds to get Etta clean. The woman ran the cloth over and down her back, paying attention to every inch of her bare skin. No one had ever been so attentive to Etta before; it felt strange, yet satisfying.

  "Your papa will be so proud of you, child." Nanny Mae washed Etta's back and arms, then moved the cloth around to the young woman's chest, soaping up her breasts and down between her thighs where she'd just been shaven.

  Etta relaxed under the woman's touch and as her fingers caressed the silky folds of her quim, she realized that she wanted Nanny Mae to touch her more than just a quick swipe. She shifted in the bath, desperately trying to find the woman's fingers as the nanny's hand moved the cloth to her legs and then down each muscular calf.

  "Sit still. You are getting water everywhere."

  Etta stopped moving, the cloth being too far from her desired area for it to do any good. Would the woman scold her if she touched herself in the bath? She was not sure she had the nerve to do it, and yet her sex pulsed beneath her, begging to be satisfied. So wanton, so improper, so… All proper decorum and etiquette had vanquished the moment she had let a man shave the curls from her privates. Not caring anymore about how a lady would act, Etta's hand snaked down into the water, caressing her bare pussy.

  The moment she touched her clit, Nanny Mae swatted her hands away and pinched her nipple, causing both a yelp of arousal and a whine from the unpleasant jolt of pain coursing through her body. She let go as fast as she'd done the action. "Good little girls do not touch themselves. They let their papa please them. Do that again and I shall be forced to tell Papa Philip how naughty you are and how you have disappointed him," Mae scolded her.

  Etta shook her head. Philip had been kind to her. She did not want to upset him, unsure as she was as to what the consequences would be. Already she had endured enough of a rough spanking to know that it would not be pleasant to have another one.

  Nanny Mae clasped the wet cloth and roughly washed over Etta's sensitive bottom.

  Whining, Etta thrashed in the water, trying to escape nanny's harsh touch against her freshly marked rear.

  "Hold still, child." Nanny Mae smacked Etta's clenched cheeks.

  The sting hurt far worse than the earlier ones she'd been given. Was it the warm water that caused the burn to spread, or the fact that she already had raw skin that did not desire another swat?

  With no way to escape the clutches of Nanny Mae, Etta held still a moment longer, the bath nearly being done.

  "Stand up." Nanny Mae ordered Etta to her feet and grabbed a white towel, wrapping it around her petite frame. She rubbed the linen between her folds, patting her cunny dry, and every inch of skin, leaving her hair in wet tangles. Then the nanny grabbed a second towel, twirling Etta's long blonde locks into it, twisting it up and securing it on her head.

  Dry and chilly from the cool air in the room, Etta allowed Nanny Mae to escort her into the bedroom, where she opened the wooden armoire, revealing an array of brightly colored dresses. She removed one that was navy blue with white highlights. It was a little girl's sailor dress. Nanny Mae grabbed a pair of little white bloomers with frills around the edges that would rest just below Etta's bum. This was not the attire of a proper young lady—it was quite scandalous, in fact.

  "Is there anything else in there?" Etta asked. In addition to scandalous, the dress looked rather childish.

  "Your papa made a special request to see you in this dress for breakfast. Arms up," Nanny Mae said, with a strict tone that meant business. Etta lifted her arms above her head, letting her nanny slide the gown over her head and her arms through the sleeves. "Turn around, child."

  Etta turned around and Nanny Mae laced up the back of the gown before reaching for the white bloomers, helping Etta into the white cotton one leg at a time.

  They were huge and unattractive, sticking out from below the hem as the sailor dress was much too short, even for her. Etta was not incredibly tall, and she certainly was nowhere near Nanny Mae's height or her papa's stature.

  "Sit on the bed," Nanny Mae said, instructing her for the final preparations. She helped guide the white stockings up Etta's legs. They came to her thighs, with little dark blue and white striped bows affixed to the top. Mae then removed a pair of shiny black shoes and slipped them on to Etta's feet, securing the straps through the buckles.

  Etta did not dare ask how she looked. She felt ridiculous, but Nanny Mae smiled as though she were proud of her accomplishment.

  The nanny returned to the washroom, finding a hairbrush and two bands. She untangled Etta's blonde tresses, splitting her hair in two sections from the middle and plaiting both sides.

  Etta made faces as her nanny tugged on the roots of her hair. It was uncomfortable feeling the pull against her scalp and the tightening of each strand as it was cinched together to make it look beautiful.

  She wished there'd been a mirror in the room, for her to see her reflection. If there had been, she'd probably laugh at how foolish she looked. Did Philip desire this to make a mockery of her? How was this a proper education for marriage?

  "Come, child. It is time I take you to your papa and you share a meal together." Nanny Mae held out her hand and Etta took it, climbing down from the bed as she followed her out of the room and down the hall.

  It was the first Etta had seen of the school aside from her nursery. The pale white walls seemed to stretch on forever, with closed doors at every juncture.

  "Does Philip live here, at the school?" Etta asked.

  Nan
ny Mae dropped the young woman's hand and smacked her clothed bottom. "You must refer to Headmaster Philip as 'Papa'. Is that clear?"

  Etta swallowed anxiously and nodded with vigor. "Yes, of course." She understood that if she did not please her nanny and probably Philip, her papa, then there'd be consequences. Her bottom could not take any further abuse today.

  As they stepped from the hall into the dining room, Etta's black shoes clicked across the floor. She glanced down at the sound, curious to know whether she would leave scuff marks if she weren't so careful. Would she find herself punished for that behavior as well? Her feet dragged slightly as she walked, testing her shoes. Sure enough, black strokes glazed the marble floor.

  "Pick your feet up, child!" Nanny Mae scolded her.

  Etta walked the correct way, until she found herself standing in front of her papa. It felt strange to call him such a name.

  "Have a seat, little one." Papa pulled out the chair, helping guide her closer to the table once she sat down. He handed her a napkin. "Place this on your lap, so you do not mess up that pretty dress of yours."

  Etta took the black cloth napkin and set it across her lap over the dress. She did not care if she soiled the garment, but she suspected Nanny Mae would not be pleased with her.

  Nanny Mae left the two of them alone. Etta breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps she could voice her questions to Philip. Now that it was just the two of them, hopefully he'd find it in his heart to answer her concerns. "I do not understand why I am here," Etta said. She got right to the point. She knew enough about Philip to understand he'd done well for himself. This was his school and his pride. She did not wish in any way to offend him.

  "Your uncle wanted me to look after you. Do you not recall the conversation from the other night?" His brow furrowed.

  "I do," Etta said. She even remembered the contract she'd signed, though the language had been complicated and intense. Honestly, she did not know what she had agreed to, other than to go with him. Slowly, she was beginning to see the error she'd made. "You do realize I am twenty, Mr. Hartley. Look at me!" She gestured to the sailor's outfit. It was ridiculous. Even a young child would look silly—but a grown woman… it felt absurd to be wearing such an item.