by Golden Angel
When Mrs. Banks’s hand came down on her sensitive crease, Vivian broke position and her legs kicked out a little. Mindful of the earl’s desire for a natural response, Mrs. Banks did not scold her.
Besides, the young lady would be kicking even more in a moment.
Panting, heated, and wet between her thighs, Vivian spread her legs again, worried that Mrs. Banks would scold her for the little kicks—although she suddenly realized she hadn’t been scolded the night before when she’d been much more active. It was only because Mrs. Banks had stopped that Vivian had immediately started worrying she’d done something wrong. That quality was part of what would make Vivian such an excellent submissive wife to Lord Cranborne, Mrs. Banks knew. It was something Gabriel had instinctively responded to and been attracted by when he’d first met her. The desire, the need to please, in every aspect of her life, in order to be happy herself.
“I have a new brush for you, Miss Stafford,” Mrs. Banks said, keeping one arm across Vivian’s back as she reached into her pocket for the hairbrush she’d brought with her. “I will take your old brush with me tonight, and from now on you will use only this brush to brush your hair, and it will also be used for your punishments. First mistakes will be punished with my hand to your bare bottom, repeated mistakes will be reprimanded with the hairbrush and you will receive double the number you had the first time.”
“What if I make a mistake for a third time?” asked Vivian worriedly, turning her head to look up into Mrs. Banks’s stern blue eyes. They softened slightly, even though Mrs. Banks frowned at her.
“Let us hope you never need to find out,” said the companion, more to bolster Vivian’s motivation than anything else. Fear of the unknown was a powerful tool, and besides, she hadn’t decided yet. Quite possibly that would be the time to introduce the young woman to the crop, which would have a more lasting sting. It was best not to set up expectations, so the training could remain flexible and the student kept on her toes.
Indeed, Mrs. Banks’s ominous words made Vivian shudder, her buttocks automatically clenching as she tried to imagine what awful retributions such a transgression would invoke. But she did not have too much time to think as Mrs. Banks hefted the hairbrush in her hand.
It was a lovely creation, specially designed and crafted for Vivian by Lord Cranborne once the marriage contract had been signed and she’d been enrolled in the school. The bristles were made of stiff boar hairs that would particularly sting if a reddened bottom were smacked with it—much pricklier than Vivian’s current horsehair brush. It was also wider and heavier than her current silver-backed brush, and not nearly as pretty, made out of sturdy wood in a squarish shape that would cover a large amount of Vivian’s attractive bottom when used in such a manner. The handle was slightly ridged to assist the grip of whoever was holding the brush. About as thick as three of Mrs. Banks’s fingers, the bumpy length was also slightly longer than the average hairbrush handle, which would assist with attaining the perfect swing for a proper spanking.
Applying a sturdy grip on the hairbrush, Mrs. Banks brought it down right across the center of Vivian’s bottom. The back of the brush was large enough to catch both of her cheeks, and to Vivian it felt like fire was licking across the area from the heavy wood, an entirely different sensation than the less severe smack of Mrs. Banks’s hand.
“Ah!” cried out Vivian, sudden tears sparking in her eyes, her body lurching forwards. Mrs. Banks paused just long enough to readjust her arm, securely holding Vivian in place, before delivering a second sturdy smack in almost exactly the same location.
“Oh, please!”
“Four more,” Mrs. Banks said, raising her arm and bringing the hairbrush down again.
There was now a red-hot rectangle of smarting flesh right in the center of Vivian’s bottom, glowing much brighter than the slight rosy pink that colored the rest of those formerly pristine globes. Vivian shrieked, her legs kicking without restriction now, fingers pressed against the floor as a tear fell to the floor in front of her.
“Please, Mrs. Banks,” she begged, her voice high-pitched and slightly panicked. “It hurts too much! Please just use your hand!”
“If it’s that bad then it should give you proper motivation not to repeat any of your mistakes a second time,” said Mrs. Banks calmly, admiring the way Vivian’s bottom marked up so nicely. The hairbrush the earl had made for his bride was easy in her hand, and it made a resounding, meaty noise when it impacted flesh. The rosy red color it immediately provoked spoke to its effectiveness, as did Vivian’s pleas. And yet, for all her kicking and squirming, the young woman wasn’t making a true attempt to dislodge herself from her companion’s lap. While Mrs. Banks had to hold her in place somewhat, none of Vivian’s movements indicated a concerted effort to end the punishment.
Thwack!
Vivian squealed, trying to bring her hand back to cover her burning bottom, the throbbing heat of that tormented spot greatly increasing her agitation. She was hindered on one side by the chair and Mrs. Banks’s body, and as soon as she got her other hand around, Mrs. Banks grabbed it by the wrist and held it to the small of her back.
“That’s three more you’ve earned, Vivian, in addition to the three you already had left,” Mrs. Banks said fiercely, upset more because she hadn’t been prepared for such a maneuver and had been about to lower the hairbrush again. “You may beg and plead and kick all you want, but you must never try to cover your bottom. What if I had brought the hairbrush down on your wrist? You could have been injured!” That was something she knew the earl would never stand for. He might want his bride accustomed to a certain amount of physical discipline, but he would never countenance true injury.
“No,” Vivian moaned, her hand twitching in the confines of Mrs. Banks’s much stronger fingers. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Banks, I didn’t mean to!”
Thwack!
“Well, you certainly won’t do it again.”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Vivian’s tears fell to the floor in front of her, watering it in the same manner as the night before. She was thoroughly sorry for trying to impede her spanking—it would have already been over by now if she had not! She was even sorrier for the disappointment she heard in Mrs. Banks’s voice, disappointment in her for not taking her punishment as well as she might have. Would this mean she would be denied the climax her body so craved? The thought made her almost as distraught as the actual punishment.
You could make all of this stop . . .
vivian remembered that she could end this punishment if she truly wanted to, and she might never have to go through it again—after all, this was just the beginning of a lifetime of such punishments with the earl. All she had to do was tell Mrs. Banks that she didn’t want to marry the earl. But then she’d have to leave the school. Her family would have to sponsor her debut. And worst of all, she wouldn’t see him again. He would marry someone else. Was it worth it, to save herself this punishment, and lose her chance to discover the pleasures that such a marriage promised? To lose him? Something inside of her screamed no, her heart already aching at the imagined loss. Vivian bit back the impulse and hardened her resolve.
Thwack! Thwack!
The last two smacks with the hairbrush landed against each of Vivian’s buttocks in turn, catching the area that had already been thoroughly punished in the center of her bottom, as well as fresh canvas to paint red. Now a wide, red stripe crossed her bottom horizontally, much darker in the center and lightening towards the edges.
Vivian choked back her howls, the fingers of one hand clenched around the chair leg while the other was still held in Mrs. Banks’s tight grip. The noise slowly softened to whimpers as the immediate sting eased, leaving her bottom feeling hot and tight, an insistent low throbbing throughout the entire area.
The hairbrush was placed on her back, so she could feel the warmth of the wood between her shoulder blades, while Mrs. Banks’s hand rubbed over the beaten flesh of her bottom, causing Vivian to hiss b
etween her teeth as the pain flared again. She quivered, spreading her legs further apart, as if in hopes of enticing Mrs. Banks downwards and away from her sore backside.
“Very good,” Mrs. Banks said approvingly. “I know you didn’t mean to fight me, Vivian.”
Tendrils of red hair wafted around Vivian’s face as she shook her head, letting out a relieved sigh as Mrs. Banks stroked along the center of her womanhood. The spanking had heated more than her reddened bottom— her folds were sopping wet with her cream and she raised her hips as Mrs. Banks stroked and swirled her fingertips against Vivian’s swollen flesh. It was exquisite bliss, easing the sting of the spanking more than anything else had done, as pain and pleasure mingled in the lower half of Vivian’s body.
One finger slid easily into Vivian’s wet sheath, causing her to moan and her muscles to tighten around the invader. It pumped back and forth, curving and probing, looking for that certain sweet spot inside of her. Mrs. Banks’s other hand started rubbing and squeezing at Vivian’s chastened bottom cheeks, further mingling the pain and the pleasure at her core. Vivian whimpered in confusion as the sensations melded, making it almost impossible to discern which was which. Neither deterred the growing tension in her loins, nor her desire for it to continue.
Another finger slid inside of her as Vivian began to move her hips in conjunction with the thrust of Mrs. Banks’s probing fingers. The companion’s thumb reached down to caress the nubby pearl of flesh at the apex of Vivian’s pussy lips, which was shyly peeking forth from its hood. The contact sent a spasm of pleasure through Vivian, and her hips began to move at a faster pace, her rump rising to meet the press of Mrs. Banks’s hands.
The companion smiled her pleasure at Vivian’s heated responses, and the tightness of her virgin sheath, as she watched her fingers delving in and out of it.
“That’s it, Vivian, just let go,” Mrs. Banks murmured as she roughly rubbed her other hand over the hottest spot in the center of Vivian’s reddened ass.
Lightheaded from her position, Vivian’s head arched up and back as she tightened around Mrs. Banks’s fingers, the hairbrush falling from her shoulders to the floor, her little clit pressed hard by the pad of Mrs. Banks’s thumb. She gasped and trembled as her climax washed over her, and her bottom cheeks clenched and bounced as the convulsions took her. It was a fiery tide of hot-bottomed pleasure, a rapturous release of all the tensions of the day, a wash of pain-tinged bliss as she cried out in ecstasy. The muscles in her arms trembled and collapsed as she rode the wave out, her head hanging above the floor as she went limp over Mrs. Banks’s lap.
The heady feeling of satiated exhaustion overtook her, and she groaned a little as Mrs. Banks continued to stroke and soothe her swollen flesh. Mrs. Banks allowed her to lie there like that, her thighs spread and open to receive the soft strokes of her companion’s fingers, for several long minutes before she told Vivian to stand. After she helped Vivian dress herself in her night rail for the evening, Mrs. Banks brushed her long red hair with the brush that had just punished her, ignoring the young woman’s squirming as she was forced to sit on her sore cheeks throughout the hundred strokes of the brush. At least these strokes were pleasant, even if she was constantly reminded of her punishment throughout them.
When Mrs. Banks left Vivian’s room that evening, she took Vivian’s old hairbrush with her.
The next few days continued in the same manner, with Vivian’s practicum in the morning followed by dinner back at the school, an hour to herself, and then draping herself over Mrs. Banks’s lap in the punishment chair for chastisement and pleasure. Her first day after the hairbrush spanking she found her bottom remained quite sore the next morning, her cheeks showing just the faintest hint of pink across the center when she looked in the mirror. She incurred another round with the hairbrush when she attempted to meet Mrs. Banks in a robe rather than fully dressed. The companion scolded her soundly for trying to take control of the punishment again and made her redress before sitting her in the punishment chair for her litany of offenses during the day, and then undressing her again. That one earned her a hefty ten swats with the hairbrush on top of her already sore bottom that evening. The next morning she found herself shifting uncomfortably as she ate her breakfast, although there were no lasting marks.
Each day she made some mistakes, although she was not late again, as her body finally adjusted to the new schedule. It seemed to Vivian that the spankings were becoming harder each evening, and yet her body always had the same response—abject need for the pleasure that followed.
At the end of the week, Vivian returned from the practicum to find an ornate box waiting for her in her room, with mother-of-pearl inlay decorating the top of it. The box itself was a thing of beauty, finer and probably more expensive than any she’d ever owned. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest as she opened it to find a debutante’s posy resting on the velvet lining. It was made up of violets and dark pink roses, trimmed of their thorns, and wrapped with a lacy, navy ribbon.
Fingers trembling, she reached for the folded note that accompanied the posy.
Sunrise,
Although you will not have a come-out as a debutante, I wished to ensure you did not want for the tokens you deserve. Please accept this posy and bring it with you to dine with me at eight this evening in the blue parlor at your school.
Gabriel
Vivian gasped, whirling around to run and ring for the maid. If she was going to be dining with the earl she needed to change immediately. She had to look her best. Any weariness from the day melted away in her anxiety and excitement. For the first time since she’d begun her training, she was going to see the earl!
CHAPTER SEVEN
IMPATIENCE HAD CONSUMED GABRIEL FOR the past few days. Impatience and thoughts of Vivian. He’d already drawn her a hundred times, forgoing his usual social pursuits to sketch her over and over again.
Now that he was finally going to be seeing her again, he couldn’t remain still. The blue parlor at Mrs. Cunningham’s wasn’t a large room, but he prowled restlessly through it like a lion trapped in a cage.
When the door finally opened to admit her and Mrs. Banks, he startled both the ladies with how quickly he whirled around and approached them.
“Good evening, Sunrise,” he said, reaching out to take Vivian’s hand and bowing down to give it a kiss. Just touching her gave him a sensation of relief, and some of his previous tension drained from his body. She was here and smiling at him, which boded well for their relationship. It was only at that moment he realized he’d been worried he’d misconstrued her character and she’d hate both the lessons and him. The shyly eager smile she gave him, her emerald eyes shining, immediately assuaged those concerns. The grin he gave Mrs. Banks, over Vivian’s shoulder, was practically giddy. “Mrs. Banks.”
Both ladies murmured their greetings, dipping slightly in curtsies. When Vivian said, “My lord,” he clicked his tongue. “Gabriel,” he reminded her.
Her cheeks flushed a light pink. “Gabriel.”
The way she said his name was still tinged with a touch of awe, and it made him hard as a rock to hear his Christian name pass her lips. The fact that her fingertips were still lightly grasped in his hand didn’t help his situation. Just being in her presence had aroused him.
It was immediately obvious to him she had dressed with care for the evening. As he’d paid for her wardrobe, he’d had a hand in picking some of it, and he knew the jade-green silk gown she wore was one of her best. Hugging her body, it was low-cut enough to show a hint of bosom while still being modest enough for a debutante; the color made her ivory skin gleam, brought out the deep green of her eyes, and contrasted wonderfully with her vivid hair.
As he guided Vivian to her seat, Gabriel gave Mrs. Banks a nod, and she left the room. Vivian looked over her shoulder, a bit startled as she realized she was to be left alone with him. Seating himself across from her at the small table, Gabriel enjoyed watching the blush rise in her cheeks. Proper young
ladies were never left alone with a man not related to them, as it might ruin their reputation.
However, Vivian had no reputation to ruin, and Gabriel desired to have her to himself. Of course, if she’d been distressed by Mrs. Banks’s departure, he would have had the companion return. But while his bride-to-be was nervous, she didn’t protest or seem upset.
“You look beautiful this evening,” he said, sitting down on his side of the table. His flinty eyes glinted appreciatively as he looked her over, and he ran a hand through his black hair. He’d dressed up for her this evening as well, his coat and waistcoat an austere grey and black that he knew suited him to perfection. They were close enough that he could probably slide his foot over and touch hers, and the thought was tempting, but he wanted to set her at ease first.
“Thank you,” she said shyly. For just a moment he wondered if he should call Mrs. Banks back in, as Vivian seemed to have shrunk into herself a little bit. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. Then she peeked at him through her lashes, the color in her cheeks flaming brighter. “You look very handsome.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a roguish grin. His Sunrise might have been submissive and, currently, a little unsure of herself, but she had spirit. Pretending to preen, he tugged at his jacket lapels. “I certainly did my best.” Vivian’s giggle broke the tension she obviously felt, her eyes lighting up. Normally Gabriel wouldn’t poke fun at himself, but right now it was worth it.
“I hope you like the meal this evening,” he said as he lifted the covers from their plates. He’d specifically requested no servants attend them tonight, as he wanted to be completely alone with Vivian. Having anyone else in the room might inhibit her, and while he understood she was learning to be a proper lady here at the finishing school, he also wanted her to be able to relax in his presence. That would never happen if she thought she was being watched and judged.