Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I’m afraid so. But I won’t do it here, where we sleep and where I make love to you. There is a special room adjoining, one I haven’t shown you yet.”
“I found it by accident,” she confessed. “During my explorations the first day. I suspected what it was for and didn’t linger long.”
So she’d already seen his small, private punishment room, created some years ago for the more audacious society women who wished to dabble in his debaucheries. He could not remember those women now, couldn’t recall their faces. He could only think how perfect a room it was for Rosalind and how much he looked forward to spanking her there.
He helped her remove her gown and lay it across the bed, and take off her stays, leaving only her chemise for modesty. They laid her diamond pendant across the top of his bureau along with the jeweled pins that held up her chignon. When her rich, golden hair was released from its trappings, he spread it across her shoulders. She looked like an angel with her flowing locks and transparent, lacy chemise. No, he must not rip it off her. Not yet.
He led her into the adjoining punishment space. It was small, cramped, and close. It had been a dressing room before. Now it contained a padded bench in one corner, at the perfect height for kneeling upon and bending over, and a wooden post in the other corner with multiple bondage points. There was also a chair in the middle, hefty and high backed, for over-the-knee spankings. A tall, wide chest and matching side tables hugged the wall, to hold any implements needed.
He’d taken most of those implements on his journey to India. They rested now at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea, unfortunately, but they could be replaced. He would discover what confounded Rosalind the most—birch? paddle? strap? cane?—and acquire more of those. He’d buy ebony shafts to lodge in her bottom and creams to tingle and torment her. But for now…
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked. She looked forlorn but interested. Frightened but willing.
“I want to do everything to you,” he replied, telling her the truth. “But tonight, for your transgressions, we will begin with an over-the-knee spanking on your bare bottom and conclude with a proper strapping over the bench.”
“That seems awfully punitive for merely being too perfect a wife.”
“Talking back will get you extra swats.”
She bit her lips and toyed with the sides of her chemise. He couldn’t tell yet if she truly found pleasure in being spanked or only put up with it for his sake, but when he sat in the chair and beckoned her, she approached without complaining and bent over his lap.
That alone had him aroused nearly to bursting. He took some moments to caress her bottom over her thin cotton chemise. She lay very still—obediently still—and he believed she did like this part of things, submitting to him, letting him pet her. When he lifted her garment’s hem to expose her bottom, she did give a little shudder.
“Shall I hold your arms behind your back for you, darling, or will you keep them out of the way upon the floor?”
“I’m going to try to keep them still.”
The sound-dampening rug had a repeating pattern of ornate fleur-de-lys. He showed her the two fleur-de-lys where she must brace her hands, then proceeded with the spanking. By God, it felt heavenly to be walloping her arse again. The sensation, the sound, her pitiful squirms as he slowly increased the heaviness of each spank… He did not flail away at her, but delivered a measured tempo of smacks, making sure each one landed true.
“How well you’re taking it,” he said. “You haven’t moved your hands once, though you’ve moved your bottom a few times.”
“It’s hard not to.” Her voice sounded muffled since she’d buried her face against the side of his leg. “It does hurt. I’m trying very hard to be still.”
“A schedule of regular spankings would benefit you greatly, I think. It would provide a weekly, or even daily, chance for you to improve your control.”
“Oh, goodness,” she replied, sounding unconvinced. “Daily seems too much.”
“Weekly, then. I’m glad you agree.”
*
Rosalind gave an uncertain “hmmft” as Marlow resumed her bare-bottom punishment. Had she just agreed to a weekly spanking regimen?
The truth was, she’d happily agree to weekly spankings if that was what it took to please her beloved. It was only that…ow…those spankings really hurt.
She curled her hands into fists, still leaving them atop their assigned fleur-de-lys. It made it easier, having somewhere to put them rather than running her hands across the floor to process the pain. Her husband held her firmly upon his lap, which also made it easier.
Ow. Ow. Owww…
It wouldn’t be so bad if he remained at the middling level of spanking he started at. But no. As her bottom warmed and began to throb from the progression of blows, he increased the intensity. It was getting very uncomfortable now. She squirmed and squeezed her bottom cheeks together beneath his palm, a desperate attempt to distract him, or at least show he was hurting her.