这是我在别处写的翻译文，现在把它搬过来。希望大家喜欢。
这篇文章出自于一英国sp故事作者的博客。原名The Governess。本人非常喜欢，所以搬到这儿来跟大家分享。先粘上英文原文，后面是我的翻译。
第一次尝试翻译。本人英文底子要比中文好，所以翻译文笔不好请不要见笑。还有，单单翻译了这一小段就花了不少功夫，如果有人想用请勿免给我应得的功劳，说明是转载。好了，闲话不多说，请大家喜欢，谢谢。
At first glance an outsider might have wondered which of the two young women was the governess and which her charge. Save for the fact that Eugenia was standing bare-bottomed in the corner that is.
Constance, the older woman, was barely 23 and had been Eugenia’s governess for little over a year. Although quite tall, she was still quite girlish and there was something wanton about the way she allowed the sun to wash through her red hair as she sat demurely on the window sill.
Eugenia stood in just her bodice and shift, with her draws let down in a clumsy pile around her knees. The back of her shift had been pinned right up so that there was nothing to cover her bottom or obstruct further spanking.
Constance glanced over the top of her book to study Eugenia at her place in the corner. She felt a familiar sense of warmth at the scene as now fond memories danced at the back of her mind. Her 18-year-old charge could barely contain her fidgeting and even from the window, Constance could see that Eugenia was still blushing for England. The peony shade of the back of her ears almost rivalled the strawberry sheen that coloured the lower curves of her exposed bottom.
The girl was an absolute joy to spank. At barely five feet tall with tawny brown curls she was the picture of innocent youth and her cheeky defiant demeanour never failed to assert itself whenever she was due to be corrected. In short, she always rebelled and always submitted without Constance having to resort to calling the Master.
This time the spanking had been a harsh one and Constance had plied the hairbrush for over 20 minutes before a sobbing Eugenia had begged for forgiveness. Now she would spend an hour or two in the corner until Constance was ready to spank her again. Perhaps she would employ the short strap later, she mused.
The best part was that she had all afternoon until tea time to spank the girl as often as she liked; one of the perks of a position that she had come to love.
When Constance had first been reduced to the status of a governess she had considered throwing herself in the river; the shame of it being too much to bear. Her father had lost all his money on a venture connected in some way to Kenya; not that he had been as weak as her. He had spent the last of his funds on a trip to Africa to save the family, but had succumbed to a foul tropical disease, never to return.
A position as governess had been 22-year-old Constance’s only recourse. In fact as an educated woman, it was all she was cut out for. The only doubt had been her experience of discipline.
“What do you know of it?” The Master had asked at her interview.
“I was… corrected as a child,” she had stuttered.
“Eugenia is no child. My ward is a very headstrong young woman. She will need a very firm hand,” The Master had replied, doubt creeping into his face.
“I was corrected… well, not just as a child. I was…” Constance had blushed.
“I see,” The Master had softened a little. “When were you last spanked?”
Constance wanted to die. How could he ask such a thing of her?
“Come now. You are presenting yourself as a professional here,” the Master had pressed. “You must speak of such things.”
“I was sp… manually corrected not a year since by my own governess. Also I was… I… that is, Miss Markham was a believer in the… birch.”
“Excellent. Were you required to construct it?”
Constance had nodded.
“And the cane?”
Again Constance had nodded with a vivid blush.
“I think you will suit us very well,” the Master had smiled.
Things had not started well. The first spanking had been a trial. Eugenia had fled to the Master to protest. That was the day that they had both learnt how it was going to be. After that it had got easier. Now Constance rather enjoyed Eugenia’s show of resistance.
Constance glanced again at the curve of Eugenia’s pert young bottom. She had so often been placed in such a position and in those days she had not always had the luxury of the school room to stand vigil.
翻译：
要不是尤金尼娅正光着屁股在墙角面壁，乍一看去很难分辨屋里的两个少女哪个是家教，那个是学徒。
其中年纪稍长的女生，康斯坦丝，虽然还未过23周岁，已担任尤金尼娅的家教快一年多了。修长的身材遮不住她尚有的女孩子气，和她端坐在那被阳光披撒她秀发的窗前时显出的随性。
尤金尼娅此时只剩下了束衣和衬裙，她的内裤在她的膝盖处团成了一团。衬裙的后侧被别在腰处，完全的暴露出了即将再度被打的屁股。
康斯坦丝的眼光越过手中的书的顶端瞟向了墙角的尤金尼娅。此时的风光勾起了她沉淀在脑海底那熟悉亲切的回忆。她那18岁大的学徒正勉强的控制着她的乱动，她脸上显眼的绯红让坐在房间另一侧的康斯坦丝都能看的一清二楚。她耳根上牡丹般的红不亚于她屁股坐侧呈现的草莓色。
要说打屁股，这个丫头可是个上乘品。她那披着棕卷发不到五尺的身躯尽现了她天真的叛逆，而每次挑拨后又总能立刻服从她应受的教育，从来不用迫使康斯坦丝去麻烦主人。
这一次的惩罚算重的了。康斯坦丝已用发刷在尤金尼娅的屁股上叠了不下二十分钟，直到哭成泪人的尤金尼娅求饶为止。她正在墙角，待一，两小时后康斯坦丝休息好了再继续。也许待会儿可以用下短皮带，康斯坦丝考虑着。
这个职任的一大好处就是，在下午茶之前她有自由任意得教训这个丫头。
当康斯坦丝的身价因她父亲因一次肯尼亚之旅而破产后被贬为家教时，那羞辱直让她想投河自尽算了。而她父亲，在为了拯救他的家庭而在度非洲后，因一恶劣的热带病毒再也没能回来。
所以，家教是当时还是22岁的康斯坦丝唯一的职业选择。对于一个受过教育的女性来说，这是她唯一能胜任的职位。只不过当时对她的管教方面有过疑问。
“你对此了解吗？”主人在面试是曾问起。
“我… 小时候被调教过。” 她结巴着回答。
“尤金尼娅已不是小孩了。我的女儿是一个需要严加管教的任性少女。”主人说道，脸上已有怀疑的神色。
“我… 我不仅仅在小时候被调教… 我…” 康斯坦丝脸红了。
“明白了。你最近一次被打屁股是什么时候？” 主人的脸色好看了些。
康斯坦丝恨不得去死。这种事他怎么问得出口？
“好了。你现在是以专业的身份在这儿。你必须说得出这些事情。”主人不依不饶。
“我最近一次是被我的家教打屁…被体罚是不到一年前。我被… 马克汉姆小姐是桦条的崇信者。”
“非常好。你被要求自己制作它吗？”
康斯坦丝点了点头。
“那藤条呢？”
康斯坦丝又点头，这次加脸红。
“那么你在我们这儿肯定会胜任。”主人露出了笑容。
起先还不是那么顺利。第一次时对两人都是个考验。尤金尼娅跑去向主人做了抵抗，可那次过后两人都安适于这就是以后的形式。从此之后便简单的多，康斯坦丝甚至非常欣赏尤金尼娅显出的抵抗。
康斯坦丝又瞟了一眼尤金尼娅的翘臀。她以前总是站在她那个位子，从来无福享受教室这端的风景。
Her own Governess, Miss Markham, had often required that she stand nose to the wall at the top of the main staircase; a position that placed her in full view of most of the household.
Worse still she was sometimes set to stand in the parlour or even the lower hallway where even visitors might see her.
“Constance you have defied Miss Markham,” she remembered her father saying.
On this and other such occasions she could not speak. It was all she could do to stand before her father trembling and studying the carpet.
“I have warned you before, if you insist on your short comings gaining my attention then attend to them I will. Now let down your draws and bend over the back of that chair.”
Constance could not explain it, but the friendly fear of her father’s words sent a pleasant tingle down her spine and even in her shame she never felt more at home. Sometimes alone in bed she would relive the scene, only sometimes it was Mr Vine the curate who took her father’s role.
It was always strange to fold herself half naked over the back of the chair. No matter how often she submitted her father always scolded her for not keeping her legs together.
“Over a little more Constance dear, I want your bottom uppermost and well rounded. The very echo of the leather scroll,” he would say. She could never look at the scrolled curve of the back of that chair without thinking of these times.
Then there was the matter-of-factness in the way father would tap the cane on her bare bottom as he lined up for the stroke. Then when it came, the first cut was always like the fiery sword of justice; so painful and so deserved.
Father never rushed his canings and invariably stroke followed stroke until she wept an apology. Then they would talk for a while, first about her sin, but then about her studies and how she was getting on. Constance always felt close to her father at times like these. Not that she could ever quite relax.
“I suppose we should continue,” Father would say after they had chatted for a while.
“Yes Papa,” she would whisper.
Then the cane would score her bottom more harshly yet for some time to come. Almost as if the first caning had been nothing more than a warm up.
Afterwards she always felt cleansed, although mortified to be sent to the corner, sometimes remaining there until the maid came to light the lamps for the evening.
Back in the present Constance looked again at Eugenia.
“Come here girl,” she whispered.
Eugenia glanced over her shoulder and tried to contain her glowering. She knew that further insolence or any hint of rebellion would be soundly dealt with. It was a challenge though; Constance had again taken up the hairbrush causing Eugenia to buck her knees and bounce in a frustrated protest.
“Please Ma’am, can’t we…”
“There is time enough for the tawes,” Constance said evenly, “I want to tickle you with this a little more first, but if you are good it will just be the slipper at bedtime.”
Eugenia’s jaw dropped and she worked her mouth in silent protest.
“What was that?” Constance asked sharply.
“Nothing Ma’am,” Eugenia said quickly.
“Are you sure? We could always carry on tomorrow with a little trip to the woods to collect birch twigs.”
“No Ma’am… I mean, please Ma’am, I’ll be good,” Eugenia gabbled the words tripping over themselves.
“Let me hear that you are contrite then,” Constance said, a small smile playing about her lips as she fingered the edge of the black wooden hairbrush.