Punishing His Ward (Domestic Discipline 3)

Looking down at the cherry red, dancing bottom in front of him, Wesley felt his cock throb in response. He'd already known that it had been too long since he'd had a woman, but it had particularly been too long since he'd been with a woman who enjoyed the same exotic inclinations he preferred. The ladies of the ton were willing to be seduced, but most were not very inventive and most were unwilling to try anything new.

Turning his ward's bottom from a lovely cream to this flaming red was the closest he'd come to satisfying his more improper desires. If he could keep her bent over and use the slick oils he'd brought back from India to lubricate the winking little pink hole between those swollen, red cheeks and then shove his cock it, taking her in the most base and perverted way possible, then his desires would be completely satisfied. Unfortunately, so far he hadn't found a woman in England that was willing to go beyond a certain point with him.

Hell, if he could find an accommodating widow, he'd probably marry her on the spot. Eventually, he'd probably marry some young miss who was more enamored of his title than his person, beget an heir and a spare on her, and have a mistress for his... games. Since it was doubtful any sweet young miss would be willing to even try the decadent perversions he favored.

With an inward sigh, Wesley landed two more hard smacks on Cynthia's sit-spots, startling himself when his fingertips came away wet. Stepping back, he brought his fingers to his nose, wondering if he had pushed her too far, if she had wet herself... but the musky scent of aroused woman filled his nostrils. Just like the time before, only this spanking had been much more thorough and he truly hadn’t expected her to have this kind of response today.

Shocked to his core, he didn't say anything as Cynthia stoo

d, her skirts rustling back down to the floor, and turned and fled. He caught a glimpse of her face, streaked with tears, eyes glazed with shock. There was a moment when she glared at him before fleeing the room.

And he was so busy smelling her scent on his fingers that he didn't stop her.

Leaning back against the desk, his mind ran over the possible ramifications of his discovery... and what he was going to do about it.

******

Locking the door behind her, Cynthia heaved a few more sobs. She was still surprised that the Earl had let her go without a further lecture, but she hadn't been about to stay and allow him to whack on her poor bottom some more. Last time hadn't been nearly as painful!

Hustling over to the mirror, she yanked up her skirts to her hips and sucked in a shocked breath. Her bottom was so red it was nearly glowing, and when she reached around to press cool finger tips to its agonized surface, she could actually feel the heat emanating from her skin.

"Bloody hell..." she murmured, almost in awe. The rounded mounds actually looked rather swollen.

If it wasn't for the stinging, burning, throbbing, she would have been utterly fascinated by its appearance. Stroking her fingers over the sensitive surface, she shuddered. Even the softest touch caused an increase in the stinging.

It wasn't until she noticed that she was squeezing her thighs together that she realized the delicious feeling of needy pleasure had built up in her quim. Cynthia groaned. How was that possible? She hadn't understood it the first time either, but this was beyond the pale.

Gently rolling herself onto her bed, she hissed in pain when her weight pressed down on her bottom. Lifting her skirts up to her hips, she planted her feet on the bed to help relieve the pressure on her sore buttocks, just as she had the last time. When her fingers pressed down into the folds of her womanhood, the slick wetness was more than it had ever been before and her little pleasure nub was hard and aching.

Cynthia moaned as she began to rub herself, her free hand reaching into the top of her dress to pinch and play with her nipples. Somehow being rougher than usual with the hard little tips of her breasts balanced out the throbbing flames of her bottom. Gasping, shocked at how quickly she was reaching her pleasure, Cynthia rubbed her little pleasure nub harder and harder, squealing a bit as her bottom began to move up and down, bouncing off the bed.

The flashes of stinging pain that flared every time her bottom bounced intensified the exquisite ache between her legs, a repercussion she was becoming familiar with. She clenched her teeth over a scream as the most delicious ecstasy ripped through her, her arm becoming sore as she rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, riding out every last exquisite ripple of pleasure.

Gasping, completely out of air, she rolled onto her side. Her bottom throbbed. Between her legs pulsed. And this climax had been even more intense than the last one after she'd been spanked.

Was there some connection between how hard the Earl spanked her and how high her pleasure went?

Yet, there was a warm ache between her legs that still wasn't satisfied. Moaning, Cynthia gently rubbed little circles over her wet flesh until the insistent need began to build again and then she rubbed, rubbed, rubbed, until she was thrashing and gasping again with ecstasy.

After three intense orgasms, the poor girl was utterly wrung out. Her bottom was on fire, the ache between her legs had subsided but still felt like something was missing, and she was completely exhausted. After all, it had been a long morning and afternoon, followed by the spanking and then more rubbing and ecstasy than she'd ever experienced before. It was a wonder she hadn't rubbed her little nubbin off.

Hazy, mostly sated, Cynthia rolled onto her stomach and fell asleep with her dress still on and hiked up around her hips.

Chapter 7

When the maid knocked on her door, awakening her, Cynthia forgot herself so far as to roll onto her back and sit up. Yelping, she jolted off the bed, whimpering a bit as her fle

sh jiggled. Her bottom was still incredibly sore, although it hadn’t stopped her from her exhausted sleep.

“Miss? Are you awake?” The maid’s voice was accompanied by the rattling of the doorknob. “It’s time to dress for dinner.”

“Yes, yes, I’m awake, just a moment,” Cynthia said, rushing over to the mirror.

Shockingly, the skin of her bottom was only pink rather than red now, although the deep ache from her punishment lingered. Her bottom was still sensitive to the touch, with a feeling of almost bruising underneath even though it barely showed any ill effects. Somehow the lack of evidence seemed monumentally unfair, as if she’d been denied a badge of honor to wear for having endured the punishment.

Another knock on the door reminded her that the maid was waiting. Cynthia sighed and let her skirts drop back down again.

******