Author: Miles Underwood (John Glassco)

About: Poet John Glassco wrote a great many unusual and eccentric works during his career, and ranks among the finest Canadian authors of the 20th Century.

This particular title, published under the pseudonym "Miles Underwood," has achieved status as a must-have in your BDSM library. It is the account of Harriet Marwood, summoned to tutor the son of a 19th Century Victorian businessman, Arthur Lovel, whose wife has died, in the proper way to conduct himself, and to quit what is wonderfully termed "self-effacing." Our Ms. Marwood soon takes over the house, leaving the businessman free to consort with Kate, his whore, and the boy, young Richard, at her mercy, where he most wants to be.

Excerpt:

It was half an hour before Harriet descended to the library, where Richard had been awaiting her in all the throes of trepidation and uncertainty. On seeing her he became still more disturbed. She, quite at her ease, approached and tapped him lightly under the chin.

“Well,” she said, “what have you been doing since I left?”

He blushed and tried to reply, but an excess of shyness strangled his voice. He was silent.

“Come, are you dumb?”

“No, miss...”

“Well?”

“I—I did nothing at all.”

“Nothing at all! But that is unheard of. One must do something.”

The last words were accompanied by a gaze of such penetration that he shivered, his eyes involuntarily falling to the region of his genitals for assurance that there were no traces of his indulgence. Harriet's shrewd gaze followed his.

“Come now,” she said, with a faint note of mockery in her clear, pleasant voice, “tell me what you have been doing. Begin at the beginning.”

She sat down, smoothing out her skirt, and taking his hands in hers she drew him close to her.

“I read—a little,” he said. “But...”

“But what?'

“I couldn't read—very much...Then I—I looked out of the window.”

“A praiseworthy occupation. And after that?”

He was deeply disturbed, The touch of the young woman's soft hands, the contact of her knees distracted him without his knowing why.

“After that,” he mumbled, “I—I did nothing at all...'

“Perfect,” said Harriet. “You spend your time well. But you know all that is going to be changed from now on, don't you? We shall begin our studies tomorrow, and you will work hard. Where is your room?”

He led her upstairs. His room was only a few steps from her own. She cast a look of disapproval at the slight untidiness she saw there. “What is that jacket doing on the bed?” she asked, pointing. “Hang it up at once.” He obeyed. As he opened his closet she saw his short nightgown hanging on the back of the door, and stepping forward she took it from its hook.

“You will not need this any longer,” she announced. “From now on you will sleep without nightclothes.”

“Yes, miss,” he murmured.

“I shall come and see you here this evening, when you are in bed,” she said. “You say your prayers at bedtime?”