By the time he turned the handle, I could barely breathe and everything was churning.
The door opened quietly and for a horrible moment nothing was said, no sound heard.
‘Did you move?’ he asked in a low, measured voice.
‘No, Sir.’
‘Good.’
He came up behind me and the slender intrusive presence between my arse cheeks was removed. Now I’m for it! I thought with a kind of dread exhilaration.
I felt its cold wooden tip tap my shoulder.
‘Turn around,’ he said.
When I caught sight of him, I had to clench my thighs to stem the flow of juices between them. I wanted to ask him where he had got the Victorian gentleman’s outfit – was it his, or did he hire it? But that would be out of keeping with the scene. I would have to keep my questions for later. For now, I could content myself with drinking him in, and appreciating his attention to detail. A well-cut tailcoat, a paisley-patterned silk waistcoat, a fine lawn shirt, a perfectly tied stock. Cufflinks, fob watch, shiny, shiny shoes – the lot. And, of course, the cane, though this was not of the gold-topped walking variety.
I think he could tell I was impressed; the severity of his expression relaxed a little and he inclined his head in receipt of my wide-eyed tribute.
‘Now then,’ he said, stepping back and using his cane to trace my outline, from my shoulder, down my outer arm, up my inner arm, along the side and beyond. ‘We have quite a catalogue of faults to address today, don’t we, young lady?’
I bowed my head, trying not to shiver at the light touch of the cane at my hip.
‘Yes, Sir.’
He brushed my thigh and tapped it, very gently, but it still made me jump forward on to my tiptoes.
‘I would like to hear them from your lips,’ he said. ‘Before I come to deal with you.’
‘I … was not honest with you, Sir,’ I whispered.
‘Indeed you were not. You concealed a very important matter from me. A matter that could have led to devastation on an unacceptable scale.’
‘I know, Sir, I’m sorry. Truly sorry.’
I flicked my eyelids up and tried to gauge his reaction to my penitence. Was it going to cut any ice at all? I doubted it.
‘However sorry you might be, the gravity of the offence must be reflected in the chastisement, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ I sighed.
‘Furthermore, there is the matter of your … intemperate fist.’
I couldn’t help a snigger at that. Hard as I tried to keep my mouth in a straight line and my breath even, it leaked out in spite of me.
‘Is something amusing?’ The tapping on my thigh increased in weight, conferring a series of warning little stings.
‘No, no, not at all, Sir,’ I rushed to correct my error. ‘It was inexcusable behaviour.’
‘It was, and I do not excuse it, as you will find out.’
I wrung my hands, my fingers clasping and unclasping in front of my poorly concealed pubic triangle. I could try begging for mercy, but it seemed pointless.
‘Please, Sir, how many?’ I asked.
‘You should not be asking how many, girl, you should be telling me how many you deserve and begging me to be thorough in the administering of them.’
God, he was good. I could barely keep still now, wanting to squirm with arousal.