Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“You’re not to squirm about,” he reminded her. “The piano bench will tip.”
“Yes, my lord.”
She knew it would not tip. He was too strong to let that happen, and even if it did tip, he would save her from falling.
“Will you be able to keep your hands out of the way, or should I hold them?”
“Hold them please,” she said, reaching them back. The first time he’d spanked her, he’d collected her hands in a firm grip at the small of her back, and sometimes when she was drifting off to sleep, she thought about how that felt, being restrained and held tight across his lap.
The spanking commenced, the shocking explosion of sensation, of force and punishment upon her helpless bottom. “Ow,” she said softly. “Ow. Ow…”
She did not yelp or scream, though a reckless cry always seemed in danger of escaping her lips. August’s spanks were loud enough already in the echoing room. The addition of screams or crying might bring the staff, or worse, Larissa.
Instead, Elizabeth pressed her lips together and balled her fingers into fists. August did not release her, even when she pulled at his iron grip. Nor did he stop his steady assault upon her bottom, striking both cheeks and sometimes the backs of her thighs with his powerful palm.
“Oh,” she whispered as the spanking gained intensity. “It hurts.”
She stared at the polished parquet floor, then squeezed her eyes shut. He was not being aggressive, nor abusive, only disciplinary to devastating effect. As the force of his spanks increased, she did kick her legs a bit, tensing her bottom cheeks, but that offered no respite or protection.
After several solid minutes of hard spanking, her bottom burned and ached. Tears gathered behind her tightly shut eyes, tears of pain, or excitement, or a little of both. When he finally stopped, her bottom felt on fire. It hurt, oh it hurt, but the rest of her felt alive and energized. She lay panting, mesmerized by the feel of his palm against her bottom, with only the thin layer of her pantalettes in between.
“I wish I had faith that this spanking would inspire you to practice more,” he said. “But it has not proven so thus far.”
“I really am very sorry. I must do better. When I don’t wish to practice, I’ll have to remember how…” She wiggled her throbbing backside. “How painful this feels.”
“Yes, I hope you will.”
He replaced her skirts and lifted her to her feet. She could not have met his gaze for all the gold and riches in Christendom, but she resumed her place upon the bench when he gestured for her to do so.
“If you won’t practice at home, you shall practice now.” He sat beside her, very close. “Sit straight and concentrate on the keys. Pay attention to the fingering in measures three and six, as I showed you last week.”
“Yes, sir.”
Her fingers trembled as her newly sore bottom pressed against the solid bench. He made her play the piece again, section by section, correcting her missed accidentals and making her keep the proper rhythm.
“The word minuet derives from the French word menuet,” he said between attempts. “Meaning fine, delicate, small, narrow. It’s a dance of sorts. Your fingers must keep the same rhythm as your feet would do in a courtly dance.”
“I see.”
It was easier to play the notes with his fingers guiding her, correcting her when she went wrong. He put his arm around her to help her find the lower notes. There was nothing improper in it, though it felt very warm and close. By the end of their hour together, she was playing the song with near proficiency, her aching bottom practically forgotten, though not quite.
He assigned her the next song in her music book, another song she would neglect to practice. He played it through for her, to show her how it ought to sound. Though it was of intermediate difficulty, it seemed a tinkling child’s song next to the stormy, complex sonatas she’d heard him play.
“You must look out for the repeats,” he told her. “You’ll remember where those are?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.”
“And the accidentals here in the second section. The key change at measure eighty-one.”
“Oh yes, I will pay special attention to those this time.”
“See that you do.” He gave her a look. “I’ll circle them for you.”
They both knew his circling wouldn’t help, not if she had it in mind to get more spankings.
Was she behaving badly in this? Wrongly? If she was, he was too. She thought with fleeting guilt of her upstanding fiancé Lord Fortenbury. He would not like to know that Lord Augustine had spanked her several times now on her pantaletted bottom, with her skirts lifted right up. Speaking of which…
“Lord August, you’ve not yet replied to my wedding invitation. Mama and Papa hope you will come to Wales with us for the holidays. For my wedding.”