A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy 2)

“What shall we do with you, Jane?”

Oh, she couldn’t bear it. For the first time, she wanted to be punished to assuage her guilt, but she couldn’t say that to him. She couldn’t ask to be bent over his padded footboard that matched her own, and spanked for her transgressions, because she didn’t want to be spanked. But some part of her did, a little.

“You must do what you believe is necessary,” she said, tears pricking at her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.”

“And you’re sorry you’ve misbehaved. I can see it in your face, love. Imagine how awful you would have felt if Mr. Cuddles had come to some harm.”

That was too awful to think about, and very true. If he couldn’t be in the wild African grasslands where he belonged, his next safest place was in his enclosure where he could stay secure and warm.

Edward still held the box with the slippers. Now he took one out and turned it over, and ran a finger over the supple leather sole. Then he tested it against his palm, bringing it down with a whap. Her stomach turned over as a shudder coursed through her.

“Perhaps a slipper spanking with these dancing shoes is the proper answer, for what they represent. Honor, sublimity, the dignity of your station as my marchioness. I only want you to be your very best, Jane. That’s the purpose of discipline, of course.”

As she stood, trembling, he used the leather-soled slipper to point to the bed. “You know by now how to position yourself.”

Unfortunately, that was true. She walked to the bed and knelt upon the shelf provided for that purpose, and draped herself over the footboard. Each time she had to do this, she berated herself—why are you in this situation again? But each time, it was her own fault, for disobedience or impulsive behavior. Someday she’d learn.

She buried her face within her arms as Edward drew up the back of her gown to bare her bottom. She still went hot with embarrassment every time, and probably always would. If he only tossed her skirts up and went about his business spanking her, it would be easier to bear, but he was slow about it, arranging her skirt and petticoat just so. It gave her that much more time to think and dread, and regret her behavior.

Next she felt the slipper rubbed upon her bottom, a warning her spanking’s commencement was imminent. “Since you readily admitted your error in judgment, and submitted yourself for correction without resistance, I believe an abbreviated spanking will do well enough. But I shall not be soft, Janie. It’s going to hurt.”

“I know,” she said softly. Her tears were already flowing. Janie, he had called her, with something almost like affection. She worried so often that he didn’t seem to love her. How strange to feel close to him now.

The first blow fell with a crisp thwack. She cried out, her knees kicking up in agony, for the slipper felt even worse than a strap. The leather soles were solid and slightly textured for gripping, and imparted an awful sting. The second blow fell upon one cheek, the third upon the other. Ow, owww. Three licks in, and her arse already felt like it was combusting, like there were literal flames upon her skin.

“It hurts,” she said, in case he didn’t realize it. “It hurts a great deal.”

“I imagine it feels very unpleasant. I also imagine you’ll be finding it uncomfortable to sit during the ride to London tomorrow.”

She gave a soft cry, imagining hours on a carriage seat with a tender, sore backside as they bumped over country roads. The next blow came with the same awful thwack and unbearable sting. Though she wished to twist away, the footboard kept her bottom elevated and positioned for continued punishment. No matter how she squirmed and kicked her legs, her arse cheeks remained exposed and vulnerable. No matter how great the pain, the stinging, throbbing agony, she could only clutch at the bedsheets and wait for her price to be paid.

There was an awful comfort to it, being unable to escape. As she grew more experienced with her husband’s discipline, the early days of hysterics and fear gave way to resignation. It hurt awfully when he punished her, but between the blows, as her cheeks ached and throbbed, she was getting better at thinking about the whys of her punishments, and how she might do better.

“Oww,” she cried, as heat layered upon heat. Even though she understood the process of punishment better, it was still terrible to bear. “Oh, please, I am so sorry.”

“I know you are. We’re nearly there.”

She’d come to learn that being “there” meant she was spanked enough to feel the effects of the spanking at least another day, and sometimes two. She gritted her teeth, because getting “there” required successively harder blows, with the worst always coming at the end. She whined and kicked as the blows came faster, building pain over more pain. When she couldn’t bear it, she moved her hand to cover herself, but he caught it, as always, before she could be harmed.