Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women

“I don’t think it was a request,” she added in amusement. “I’ve already brought you tray to bring him,” Agatha said, gesturing to the silverware, porcelain cups and silver teapot on the table. Audrey cleared her throat, standing up; her feet throbbed, her back hurt; her knees ached. Everything hurt. Her hair a mess, still stained with some of the sweat of her encounter with the duke, she wobbled awkwardly toward the table, steadying herself against the edge.

“Remember what I told you, yes?” Agatha warned quietly. Audrey’s heart sank. She had already ignored the woman’s advice, and she could already feel the guilt in her gut.

“Y... yes,” she whimpered, carrying the tray towards the grand staircase. Each stair ascended hurt her heels, and the closer she got to the duke’s bedroom, t

he harder she breathed. Lord Parris had meant to be away from the estate for some time, with the duchess - why had he returned so suddenly? Her mind raced as she timidly rapped on the lord’s door, holding her breath.

“Enter,” came a voice from behind the heavy door as the handle turned. She inched into the Lord’s bedchamber, the familiar paneling and his extravagant bed bathed in moonlight. A candelabra cast quaint, faint light across the room, set upon the lord’s writing desk. He stood at the windows, without his shirt, watching the stars. Audrey skittered across the Persian carpet, setting the tea on his bedside table. She stood plaintive, her head downcast, silent, before moving to leave.

“Close the door, please, Ms. Fisher,” he requested sternly; Audrey’s breaths grew labored as her shaking hands pressed the door shut, in compliance with his powerful order. “Good,” he said. “We have to have a discussion about your work here, so far,” he said, his voice that heart-melting, baritone purr. She stood straight, stiff as a board, her back to the door, her hands quaking behind her back.

“M-M’lord, certainly, I’m... I’m always open to criticisms, to your... opinions,” her voice lilted weakly as he turned to face her, moonlight rippling along his strong abs and across his powerful, broad chest.

“There’s a lot to talk about,” his voice rumbled. “I met you, trespassing in a room you ought not to have been...” he murmured, and suddenly she felt him approaching her, like a hungry wolf sizing up a wide-eyed fawn. “Since then, Ana has informed me she feels your work is subpar... you spent all of the day lounging around in the dining hall, according to the Duchess Francine,” he listed the evidence against her piece by piece, and the more he spoke, the more Audrey quivered, fear and embarrassment bright-red in her cheeks. “Come here.” He beckoned her closer; she approached hesitantly, with stilted, staggering steps.

“I... I’m sorry, m’lord, but I spent... I spent all of today, working hard, to... to clean the dining hall, after our...” Audrey bit her lip, not even sure how to refer to their indiscretion - or whether she even should. He circled her now, eying her from head to toe; circling her, closer and closer, until she could feel his breath again, and it lit that fire she knew in her breast.

“And worst of anything,” he recalled with a sizzling finality, “you disobeyed me... you refused me. Do you remember that disobedience?” he growled into her ear. She could feel his hands now - strong, commanding; knowing just what they wanted. Even worse... knowing just what she wanted. She cooed weakly, losing herself in the deep and aggressive massage of his palms along her shapely hips.

“I... m’lord, I simply... I simply wanted to maintain, my... you’re... a noble, and I’m...” Audrey lost every thought she tried to formulate, so enticed by the touch of his hands and the hum of his voice.

“A serving girl?” he said. “You don’t think a serving girl could run the world, if she wanted?” he teased her, his hands gently massaging her breasts as he peppered her neck with hungry kisses, little nibbles; leaving her milky skin braised an erotic red.

“I’m... I try to know my place, in the world... it keeps me s... safe,” Audrey tried to reason with him - but moreso, with herself. Because the more he felt her body and the hungrier his breaths grew on her skin the more she wanted to take over the world, if it meant she could be with him like this, every night, as the dauntless serving-girl. “I don’t...” She felt it again; with a strength and an unparalleled precision, she felt him wrap her wrists tight in a leather strap; she gasped, having that control taken away felt so wrong and so right. She wallowed in the sense of submission; cradled in his arms he pushed her chest hard flat onto the bed, kissing down her neck and along her back as he lifted her skirt again.

“Your place in the world, Ms. Fisher... is here,” he breathed out lustily. “In my bedroom... repenting, for disobeying me... for being so misbehaved in your time here at the McClellan estate... I should punish you for it, shouldn’t I?”

“P... punish? M’lord, what do you mean?...” her voice trembled, full of fear and apprehension... and pure, unfiltered want. Expecting an answer, she instead got a hard, stiff spank on her rear; she yelped, swallowing hard as the handprint burned reddened onto her milky-soft skin. “M-m’lord! That’s...”

“I told you,” he growled down at her, “you need to be punished... so you learn to be a good serving-girl for your duke... don’t you?” he purred into her ear, showering her cheek with lusty affection before bringing his hand down hard into another cracking smack on her backside.

“M-m’lord! I’m...” she couldn’t even think of breathing the words aloud, but it felt... good. It felt like she never imagined it could. A grown woman spanked by the sexiest duke she had ever seen in her life... it made her heart nearly burst with how erotic she felt. She couldn’t believe it; didn’t want to believe it. “Th... this is so... wr-wrong,” she cooed.

“Is it?” he growled into her ear, spanking her again, as she moaned deeply at the feeling of pleasure-pain stinging her every nerve. “Is it wrong to admit our bodies want what they want?” he purred.

“M’lord, we... we must have some se... sense of decency,” Audrey protested weakly, secretly begging for him to spank her again, and again.

“Is it wrong for us to indulge how we like? Was it wrong for me, Ms. Fisher,” he huffed into her ear lewdly, “for me to abandon the duchess tonight... to return to the estate, because all my mind could dare think of is how good your body felt against mine? You’re all I could bloody imagine, Audrey,” he exhaled sharply, punishing her again with another sexy, stinging slap.

“Oh, god, m’lord, it...”

“Say it,” he demanded.

“It... f... feels so good,” she sheepishly admitted in a long, lewd moan. Gripped by the sound of her, Lord Parris tugged his belt free, letting his trousers fall away as he grasped her reddened rear and entered her roughly, both hands gripping those sore spanking spots as her bound, pliant, submissive little body shook with delight.

“You feel good,” he responded through gritted teeth, barely able to contain himself. He spanked her again, and again until she felt raw, and she moaned louder with each slap; with each thrust of his stiff shaft into her dewy feminine folds, it felt like lightning shooting across every nerve. Voracious he nibbled her neck, moaning, breathing, sighing her name, until he plunged his hardened length inside of her and cried out loud enough that all the estate could hear, echoing all through the moors. Biting her lip, she felt orgasm erupt in every inch of her, the pleasure even more intense than it had been the first time. He erupted, time after time, hotter and hotter until she was filled so completely with his hot release.

He gripped her hips, collapsing next to her with a sigh; she shrunk into his grasp, feeling heavenly; sublime. She didn’t know why she liked so much to be spanked, to be bound - and it felt so wrong.

But here, in his arms... everything felt right.

Chapter 7

It had plagued her mind for two days - Audrey had gone about her business the day after the night she spent with the duke, but Aunt Bette’s warning echoed loudly. So did Agatha’s, and the longer she kept this tense silence about herself and the duke, the harder it grew to stay silent about it. Every time Audrey passed Ana a in a hallway, fear froze her blood in her veins; each time she lied to Agatha about the night before, she felt a little more ashamed of herself. It had felt so good, so right - but what would anyone else think? Knowing Audrey was a dirty pervert who liked being spanked by her master?

Today the duke slept in; he had been out late the night before, and Audrey spent the entire night unsure, and... oddly, jealous. She sat awake in her bed in the maidservant chambers, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing. She knew she had no room to be jealous. She worked at an inn. Now she cleaned floor and polished silver. What was she to do to a duke?

Now, she had been instructed to collect the duke’s linens, and with fury and fear and confusion in her mind, she stilled her beating heart as she knocked