“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 penis. 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 penis. 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.
Chapter Three
“He’s nicely circumcised,” a rather saucy girl announces for the group, her observation bringing me from my reverie.
“Thank you. I trimmed him high and tight, as they say. Foreskin can be unsightly, wouldn’t you agree?”
My overt question brings astonished silence from all. Finally, the girl, standing quite proximate to Jack, his hands obsequiously placed atop his hooded head, runs a finger up the underside of his standing penis shaft to where I indeed trimmed him years ago.
“You did this?”
I nod.
“I’m a trained nurse and the procedure is rather simple. Just have to assure you gather suitable flesh in the clamp and incise. In altering the male later in life, the procedure offers wondrous feminine empowerment. Something a boy doesn’t easily forget.”
More awed silence... and another memory...
Chapter Four
It must be understood that there was no implied sexuality in the handling of Jack... early handling. Just as the maids vacuumed the carpeting, tended to the laundry, cleaned the floors, etc, I bathed and cleaned Jack. Stripping for me, kneeling in the bath, enduring my palpating hands became in Jack’s mind as routine as visiting the doctor, having his teeth cleaned by the dentist. It was all clinical. And just as those visits can bring a degree of stress and concern, so it was with Jack. There was always an edginess... and his erect reactions were common. Which I ignored... at the time.
I learned that Jack’s mother, a rather haughty socialite, never really bonded to him. Probably never breast fed him either. And so it came to her as a surprise when, during an early weekly progress report, I informed her of Jack’s phimosis. A lie, of course, Jack’s glans penis retracted quite readily and ably... just about daily. But I like my boys cleanly cut. And as in my reply to the girl commenting on Jack’s circumcision, the procedure when performed on the adolescent male can offer a wonderful bonding experience, implanting notions and thoughts of who really owns and controls the organ.
Well Ms. Socialite, probably never even having changed Jack’s diapers, cared not to discuss a subject or investigate an aberration that was... considered aberrant to persons of culture and class.
I was therefore given the go ahead. And I cleverly used the pending simple operation as a pretense for shaving Jack’s budding foliage, all hair removed.
Yes, a Gomco clamp... adult size at that point... some Novocain, a razor sharp scalpel, and a very obeisant Jack was made to watch as a woman of governance trimmed his vaunted male appendage.
I triumphantly smiled for him during the entire procedure. For him, a great lesson learned.
And of course, during his healing, his Governess Kelly needed constant and immediate access to Jack’s genitals.
“I like you shaved like this, Jack. Don’t you?” I proclaim on day three of recovery.