by Alta Hensley
"There is no reason to be any other way," he said. "Now come, let us go downstairs and finish up the paperwork so we may begin our journey."
She headed down the stairs first, waiting for him at the bottom, unsure where they were heading to sign the contract. Etta still had not become familiar with the house, and it seemed as though it would not matter. She would be leaving tonight, and she could forget her Uncle Jack as quickly as he would forget her.
Chapter IV
Philip walked down the front steps, the contract tucked neatly into an envelope and buried under his coat. Rain pelted his hat as he walked outside. He should have brought an umbrella, and Jack did not seem to be offering one.
Etta used her cloak to cover her head as she briskly walked to the carriage.
Philip assisted her in first and shut the door, noting that her uncle hadn't even bothered to bid her farewell as the driver steered them off the grounds and onto the main road. He closed the windows to the carriage, to keep the rain from splashing them as they drove. "Quite a night," he said.
"Yes." Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the horses continued trotting forward. "Do you think it is safe to travel tonight? Should we have waited until the storm passed?" she asked uncertainly.
"We need to be at the chateau before dawn. I wish it were that simple, Etta. But that is for me to worry about, not you." He watched lines of concern etch her brow, and oddly, he had the overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms and reassure her that she would be safe; that he would never allow anything or anyone to cause her harm. "Tell me, when was the last time you felt the innocence of being a child: carefree and without worry?" he asked gently.
Sighing and allowing her shoulders to collapse in a slump, she answered. "I do not remember ever being carefree and without worry, Mr. Hartley. I do not have the luxury in life to do so."
"Do you not wish sometimes that you could be like a child? Have no worries, no concerns of misfortune, and no hard decisions to make. Have you ever wished to have someone take care of you, fully take care of your every need? Have you ever wanted to be tucked in at night, kissed on the forehead and told to have sweet dreams, and you would, because someone who loves you very much has already chased the bad dreams away?"
She laughed softly under her breath. "I do not know. Why are you asking me such a peculiar question, Mr. Hartley?"
"I feel it is best to just be blunt and not skirt around the topic with regards to what is required of you at Ashby Chateau. Behavior, expectations, and beliefs are quite different there. We want to help you find that little girl that once was lost. We want you to rest easy and know that everything will be taken care of. You will be taken care of."
"Oh?"
"To begin with, I want you to call me 'Papa'. When we arrive at Ashby Chateau, Nanny Mae is going to get you ready for bed, but come the morning, we will educate you on what is to occur with your schooling."
"Papa?" She gave him the strangest look, as if he had gone mad, although she did not seem to find the suggestion offensive. "I do not need a nanny, Mr. Hartley. I am twenty years old. I also do not understand why you would want me to call you such a name."
Philip ignored her. "I know it will take some getting used to, little Etta, but your new school is going to teach you how not only to behave as a proper little wife, but to submit to a man in ways you cannot imagine at this time. Part of that training involves being little again."
"Little?"
"Do not worry yourself now about the details. Everything will be taken care of for you while you are at the Ashby Chateau. Consider it a holiday from your life. I know without a doubt, that you will adjust just fine."
Etta did not answer him. She hung her head, picking at her fingers, focusing on her hands in her lap.
Most girls weren't pleased when they first arrived, but Etta had signed the contract and willingly agreed to join the establishment that Philip had created. He hoped she would not take the typical step backward, resulting in her being given enemas and bare bottom spankings due to her lack of discipline. He had seen it time and time again with the new girls. By telling her what to expect, he was trying to save her the pain that would follow later. Etta seemed to be a good girl, and with the proper upbringing, she would please her papa.
He had felt the urge earlier at dinner, and it was now growing stronger by the minute; Philip realized he wanted to be that Papa. Yes, it was his desire for this pretty little blonde before him to be schooled properly to be his little love.
When he had created the chateau, after his wife's death, he had promised himself he would never fall for any of the little ones. They were to be married off to men who wielded power and desired full submission. He had met many of these men in his role as a lawyer, which was what kept him from giving up the practice entirely. It gave him access to the world of dominants in search for a young woman to satisfy their hidden cravings. Most had money and power, and could easily have any young woman of status that they wished, her dowry meaning very little. But men like this were particular and aggressive, which meant they only wanted the best—and Etta had potential to be the very best.
But Philip wanted Etta as his own little one. Was that such a terrible proposition to make? He had earned his own happiness, with all he had done for others. Staring at her, with her tiny little hands nervously folded on her lap like a good little girl, he knew she could give that to him, if he allowed her.
"Would you be willing to call me 'Papa', little Etta?" Philip leaned forward, his knees brushing against hers.
"I do not understand," she whispered.
"You will, love. You will."
She glanced up from her lap to meet his eyes. Fear was evident in her features. He had scared her. That had not been his intention, not in the slightest.
Philip changed seats, climbing across the small carriage to sit beside her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You're freezing," he said, acknowledging the shiver coursing through her body. Had it been the cold, or her nerves? His arm grazed her shoulders, and he felt her stiffen. The cloak around her body felt cool.
"I shall be fine," she said, but made no attempt to push him away.
"We have a long ride ahead of us, and the night air is only going to grow chillier. We might as well rest." He shut his eyes, pretending to sleep. Philip was not tired, in fact, he felt alive and more awake than he had in months, if not years. His heart had found its way back to him; beating soundly and with a steady rhythm.
Etta seemed to understand his intent and allowed her eyes to flutter closed, resting her head on his shoulder. It was exactly as he wished. He wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her as he would a child. Philip listened to the steady sound of her breathing as she drifted off to sleep. He hoped she would not be the typical handful he expected with new littles when they arrived at the chateau, but he could not be certain until morning came.
Hours passed, and she'd shifted slightly but had not stirred herself awake. Upon their arrival, Philip carried her from the coach and inside to her bedroom. He laid her atop the mattress and gestured for Nanny Mae to come into her room to finish tucking little Etta into bed.
Philip backed out of the room and shut the door, already missing her warm breath against his neck and her body curled into his. He hoped the next day would go just as smoothly, but something told him that her fears and the sadness she had experienced would not simply go away. Her memories and pain… it would take time to recover from such a devastating loss.
He knew about loss. His wife had died five years previously, and it had taken him time to heal. That had been when he'd made the chateau his passion, creating the establishment and opening it up to the right clientele. Not everyone could join or participate, even if they did have a wealth of cash. Philip had been particular to make sure that the papas all had strong morals and good intentions. His littles wouldn't be given to just any man. The right little, the right man, and the right circumstances were crucial, and his steadfast and dedication were
the reasons why Ashby Chateau was becoming so successful.
Chapter V
Etta rolled over on the warm plush mattress, feeling the blankets cocooning her. Morning sun streamed in through the sheer white curtains, forcing her to wake far too early for her liking. What time was it?
Her eyes searched the unfamiliar room and as she sat up in bed, the sheets fell to her waist. Someone had changed her clothes! Had Philip been the one to undress her? Her stomach flopped at the thought that he might have seen her naked.
Anger bubbled within in her veins as her nostrils flared and she exhaled a heavy breath.
"Little Etta, you are awake," a red-haired, fair-skinned woman said. She had the most alluring blue eyes Etta had ever seen, with flecks of emerald green that made it impossible not to stare. There was an innocence behind her eyes, as well as a warm inviting smile. Freckles covered her nose and cheeks. Captivated by the young woman, Etta tried to understand why she was calling her 'little'. She hadn't been little since she was a child. Had the woman lost her mind? "I am Nanny Mae," the woman went on. "If you need anything, you ask me. All right?"
Etta felt confident that the woman must have banged her head. She didn't need a nanny—and certainly not a woman who barely had any more life experience than she had. If anyone was to be considered a child, this woman had the features more closely matched to a young one than she did; with a small button nose, thin lips, and tiny ears.
"Who undressed me?" Etta asked, staring down at the transparent pink gown. Her nipples were visible through the material, as was her pubic hair. In haste, she closed her legs and pulled the covers back up around her body to shield herself from being indecent.
"I did, of course." Nanny Mae reached for Etta, pulling her from the bed and onto the floor. "You were too asleep to even help me last night. Your papa brought you in far past your bedtime. Do you need to use the potty, little one?"
"I am not little," Etta said, stomping her foot. Why would this woman consider it proper to call her so? It infuriated her to no end. Had Philip thought so little of Etta that he felt she belonged in a nursery? Pale pink walls enclosed the room. A border of hand-painted blue and purple flowers with ivy skirted the edge of the ceiling around the room. A single window admitted the morning light, covered with sheer fabric that was dyed in a mix of blues, pinks, and purple that matched the overall décor.
Nanny Mae grabbed Etta by the arm and dragged her to a potty that was nestled in the corner of the nursery. "Sit!"
Etta made a face, displeased, but needing to use the chamber pot all the same. "Do you have to watch?" She found it embarrassing and absolutely improper to have Nanny Mae standing over her. Not even her own father had watched her use the chamber pot. She was a grown woman. Why didn't the red-head recognize that?
"I have seen it all before. Do not be shy. Now hurry up and go potty like a good little girl."
Not being able to hold back her need any longer, Etta finished her business as fast as she could, glaring at the woman in front of her. Nanny Mae grabbed a cloth, moved quickly toward Etta's exposed cunny and, without hesitation, wiped between her legs.
"I can do that myself!" Etta ripped the cloth from her fingers and, in the process, knocked over the chamber pot.
"Etta!" Nanny Mae shook her head. "Come with me, right this instant."
She dragged Etta by the arm back to the bed, her grip pressing firmly, and sat her on the edge of the bed. Within seconds, the nanny had hoisted Etta over her lap and lifted her gown, revealing her bare bottom. The indecency of having no undergarments shot a humiliating heat straight to Etta's face.
Etta did not know what to expect, but it could not be good. "Oh, madam! You cannot!"
"I most certainly can, and I will, my dear." Mae swatted her bottom hard on each upturned cheek. "This is not how I wanted us to first be acquainted, but I do have a duty to uphold. I cannot have a charge of mine act in such naughty ways!"
Nanny Mae spanked Etta hard on her bottom again, repeating the horrid action over and over. Etta whimpered in pain, clenching her cheeks together. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes as her bottom ignited in a stinging heat. Etta could not recall the last time she had been corrected by someone else. It was quite possible she had never been spanked before. She certainly couldn't remember anything as dreadful as this. But to be spanked as an adult—the humiliation was almost too much to bear.
Over and over, Nanny Mae's hand peppered her behind. Her firm hand left no skin untouched as the spanking continued.
"Please, no," Etta said, in between pleas to be set free. "I shall clean up the mess. I won't do it again!" She was not even sure what she had done wrong. She had only wanted to clean herself after using the chamber pot, and the ensuing mess had been an accident. What was so terrible about that? "Madam, please!"
Mae swatted her even harder, in the spot where her thigh met the curve of her ass, causing Etta to yelp out in pain. "You will address me as Nanny Mae. Are we clear?"
Swat after swat continued in that most dreadful spot. No matter how much Etta wiggled to avoid the stinging blows, Nanny Mae always met her target with painful accuracy. "Yes, Nanny Mae. Yes!" Etta cried.
"You will learn to listen to me, or I shall be forced to tell Papa Philip what a bad little girl you were. Do you want me to do that?"
Philip did not seem to be an overly cruel or strict man, but then again, Etta barely knew him. The best course of action was to behave. "Please don't tell him." In truth, a small part of her was curious about what he'd do should he discover her naughty behavior. She did not mind the thought of him taking her over his knee if he was the one doing the disciplining. Anything would be better than her precarious situation at the moment.
Nanny Mae had a firm hand for such a small woman. She could not have been much older than Etta. In another life, perhaps they could have been sisters. Nanny Mae kept paddling Etta's bottom, reddening the milky-white flesh until Etta was convinced it would be difficult to sit for at least the rest of the morning.
"I asked you a question," Nanny Mae said, giving Etta another smack.
"I shall behave!" Etta cried out, her hips bucking with each swat as she tried to escape the torture, but Nanny Mae would not let her go.
Four more swats, and tears were flowing down her cheeks freely like the Thames.
"I think you've had enough and have learned your lesson." Nanny Mae placed Etta's feet back on the floor, her nightgown falling past her waist. "Remember, child, there are worse punishments than spankings for bad behavior at the chateau."
Etta's eyes widened and she took a step back, covering her backside in case the nanny changed her mind about being finished.
"Go and sit on your bed quietly while I clean up the floor."
Whimpering, Etta backed up toward the bed, glancing at it and then to Nanny Mae. She was not keen on sitting on her sore bottom, her skin being raw, but she did not dare risk angering Nanny Mae further. If she did not listen to this woman, would she find her bottom in far worse condition? The nanny had threatened her about worse punishments—what could they possibly be? What could be worse and more humiliating for a grown woman than being spanked like an errant child?
Etta climbed onto the bed and lay on her stomach. She propped her head up on her hands and stared at Nanny Mae as she mopped up the mess that had been made. Watching with fascination, she wondered what other tasks the nanny was responsible for. She had never known anyone to clean up after her when she had knocked something over—well, at least not since childhood. Even stranger was the fact that it was a disgusting chamber pot.
The pain of her sore bottom faded to a tingle as she watched Nanny Mae cleaning the oak floor, cursing under her breath. When the woman had completed her task, she stood up and adjusted her attire, pressing the loose curls that had escaped the pins in her hair back into place. With a straightening of her spine and a slight huff of breath, Nanny Mae once again resembled the proper and firm governess.
"Come here for your bath,
little one."
As if on cue, another young woman carried buckets of hot water into the room, pouring them into a porcelain bathtub in the corner. Etta knew what was next, even before hearing Nanny Mae's shout for her to come and be washed. With reluctance, she climbed off the mattress and walked toward Nanny Mae, as slowly as possible.
"Hands up. We have to take off that night gown," the nanny said.
"I do not want you to watch me take a bath." Etta was not pleased with the arrangement. Why was this woman looking after her? Where was Philip? Though she would not have felt comfortable with him watching her bathe either, there was still something deep inside her that wanted him nearby.
"Little girls do not take baths by themselves. Arms up!"
Etta crossed her arms over her chest, making it difficult—though not impossible—for Nanny Mae to undress her easily. The nanny swatted her throbbing bottom, spanking her once, then twice. Long enough for Etta's arms to drop and cover her rear.
In one swift motion, Nanny Mae lifted the gown up over Etta's head and arms, leaving her standing completely naked.
Etta covered her intimate areas with her arms.
"Do not be so prudish, child," the nanny said, tsking under her breath. She checked the water temperature. "It is still slightly warm. Why don't we get you prepared first, then bathe you after we are done?"
"Prepared? After what?" Etta asked. What was this woman talking about?
The nanny disappeared out of the room and came back moments later with a few towels, a straight razor, and a bar of shaving soap.
Etta's heart skipped a beat. "What do you plan on doing with that?"
"Littles do not have any hair on their pretty pink cunnies. Papa wants me to shave it all off. Will you be a good girl, or do I need to ask the other papas to come in and hold you down, child?"
Etta slowly backed away from Nanny Mae. The thought of the nanny nicking her folds scared her more than anything else had so far that morning. "What if you cut me?"