by Golden Angel
This was time apart from the school, separate—their own little bubble of the world. That was how he wanted it to be once they were married as well. He’d seen how his father and stepmother behaved in public versus how they behaved when it was just family; and, by chance, when it was just the two of them. Gabriel wanted that same kind of easy intimacy with his bride, and this was the best way to build it.
Vivian smiled in delight as she looked down at her plate of roast duck with plum sauce, Yorkshire pudding, and vegetables in gravy. All of which he knew were foods she particularly enjoyed. “It looks delicious, thank you.”
She gave him another little peek from beneath her lashes. She was studying him, perhaps wondering if he’d deliberately had her favorites made.
“Are you enjoying the practicum?” he asked, deliberately phrasing the question so as only to ask about her daytime studies. After all, he wanted her to relax, and he doubted a conversation about the evening activities would assist that goal.
From the way she blushed, he knew she was thinking about it anyway, but she answered calmly enough, despite her pink cheeks.
“For the most part,” she said, shaking her head with a little smile. “I do think the companions truly enjoy attempting to fluster us.”
“Do they succeed?”
“Often.” Vivian laughed and began to tell him about the day’s lesson, which included Mrs. Wisp, Charity’s companion, pretending to be an aggressively motivated matron, aiming to marry off her son to any of the young ladies present. As Vivian told it, it had been highly entertaining, in some ways, and absolutely horrifying in others;
trying to put Mrs. Wisp off without insulting her or her “son” was a Herculean task. Emily had failed miserably at it, Vivian said, being far too blunt in her responses. Vivian was sure her friend would receive a blistering lecture from Miss Norton this evening. Gabriel chuckled, relieved that his intended was finally beginning to talk to him with more ease.
Vivian was amazed that Gabriel seemed to find Emily’s impolite rejoinders just as entertaining as she did. As he chuckled, she abruptly changed subjects, to the “emergency” that had occurred just before tea time, when the kitchen reported the milk had spoiled. Although she knew he was her betrothed, she’d felt a small flash of worry— or was it jealousy?—about his mirth over Emily’s antics. He wouldn’t change his mind about wanting Vivian, would he? Even if he did, the papers were signed and they would be married, but Vivian didn’t want a husband who regretted doing so.
So better to stay off the subject of Emily.
“Have your stepmother or sisters had any similar contretemps?” she asked, turning the subject back around on him. She was desperately curious as to how one of the august ladies in Gabriel’s family behaved; after all, she was going to have to live up to their expectations once she and Gabriel were married.
“I’ve made it a habit never to be around for tea time,” Gabriel said, his grey eyes glinting with amusement. “Or when Audrey and my sisters were at home for callers. The few times they caught me and I was obliged to attend, I had to suffer through some very lackluster attempts at poetry by my sisters’ suitors, or a bevy of mothers that behaved just like Mrs. Wisp—only towards me about their daughters.”
“How ghastly,” Vivian said, teasing him. He grinned back at her, pleased she felt comfortable enough to do so.
“Exactly.”
Vivian could hardly believe she’d had the cheek to tease the earl in such a manner, but he did seem to be inviting it. She could tell he was doing his best to help her relax, and so she was trying hard to. It did help that he was an excellent conversationalist, truly listening and adding his own comments when she talked, and quite engaging to listen to. Of course, if her mind ever did drift from the conversation, her thoughts would immediately go to the punishment chair in her room and her nighttime lessons.
Having him right there in front of her made her evenings seem even more surreal. The earl was so elegant, even with his slightly mussed black hair. There were tiny flecks of green in his eyes, and his extravagantly long lashes would have made him almost pretty if his square jaw and patrician nose weren’t so aggressively masculine. He was every inch the perfect English gentleman, just with an air of danger that came from being a rake. At least, she assumed that was what contributed to the aura around him. It was so hard to imagine he would want her spanked and touched. That he would want to spank and touch her the way Mrs. Banks did.
The idea frightened her, even as it excited her, but she was also finding their conversation was easing some of her anxiety. The earl was not some faceless, terrifying specter of her future. He was handsome, charming, and highly attractive, even if he was also intimidating.
Of course, if he wanted to turn her over his knee right now, she didn’t know how she would react. She was grateful he didn’t seem so inclined. If anything, he just seemed interested in getting to know her better, which was a relief. Sitting in front of him fully clothed was difficult enough; she thought she would be quite distressed if she’d been expected to bare her bottom for him the way she did for Mrs. Banks.
“You’ll enjoy Brentwood Manor,” the earl said, as she forced her attention back to the conversation at hand. She smiled at his obvious love for his father’s estates, taking another bite of the roast duck as she listened to him expound on the place. “It’s the perfect place for painting. There’s a large lake with a small copse nearby my grandfather built a folly in, using his travels in Greece for inspiration. It’s quite peaceful. I spend a fair amount of time sketching among the columns when I’m there.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Vivian said, completely sincerely. Her own family’s property certainly didn’t have anything as nice as a lake or a folly on it. His descriptions made her want to see the estates he was describing, but at the same time she felt a bit anxious.
Why would he want someone like her by his side when his family was obviously so much wealthier and powerful than her own? They were getting to know each other now, but he’d chosen her based on nothing but a sighting at a wedding. It was terrifying to think she might somehow let him down, especially as her family’s well-being now rested in his hands. She didn’t feel nearly beautiful enough or accomplished enough to be his wife, and yet she was the one he’d chosen.
Emily had said it was romantic, and Vivian supposed it was in a way, but surely he couldn’t already have feelings for her. They barely knew each other. What if he changed his mind? Or never developed feelings for her?
She was sure it would be all too easy to develop feelings for him. She was already more than halfway there, between his solicitous attention, his generosity to her loved ones, and her fantasies.
“Are you all right, Sunrise?”
The endearment made her smile, without having to force it, despite her thoughts. “Yes, I’m sorry, just woolgathering. The duck is delicious, isn’t it?”
His eyes narrowed slightly at her as she retreated behind meaningless chatter, but he allowed it. Vivian was relieved; she’d become accustomed to falling back on social niceties when she was unsure of herself. The rest of the meal passed easily, and she relaxed again as he told her some of the gossip from the ton. She’d never met most of the people he talked about, but she recognized many of the titles, if not the names. Every tidbit of information was tucked away, because one day she would meet all of them as the earl’s countess.
His gossip was very different from what she heard from the other young ladies. They were focused on who was courting, what new fashions were being set, and which titled men were said to be looking for a wife. The earl’s anecdotes focused on who had won the latest race, who had bought the finest horses, a fistfight that had broken out after Parliament over the day’s debate, and how a pair of mischievous young men had released a flock of chickens onto Rotten Row during the daily promenade. Vivian couldn’t help but laugh about that one when he described the looks on the matrons’ faces as chickens alighted onto their stately carriages, whic
h were lined up next to each other.
The end of the meal came all too quickly, and her heart fluttered with anxiousness as Mrs. Banks came back into the room. The sight of her companion reminded Vivian of what the evening still had to come—the punishment chair in her room awaited her, at the behest of the man in front of her. Heat flushed her cheeks as Gabriel stood, holding out his hand to help her up.
A large hand. Much larger and stronger than Mrs. Banks’s. Vivian could only imagine what it might feel like on her bottom, and her insides did all sorts of flips and turns at the thought. She trembled a bit as she put her fingers in his hand, trying not to think about it because it was all too confusing.
The earl’s silvery eyes pulled her gaze to his as he lifted her hand to his lips. He turned her hand, pressing the kiss to her palm. Even through her glove she felt the heat of it, and something inside of her tightened. It was the same sensation she got when Mrs. Banks touched her, after the spanking.
Flustered, Vivian looked at the floor, her face burning so brightly she was sure it was red as a cherry.
“Good evening, Sunrise,” Gabriel said, his voice low and intimate. “Tend your lessons well . . . and think of me.”
“I will, my—Gabriel.”
“My Gabriel,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice even though she didn’t dare peek up at him. “I like that.”
Breathless, Vivian practically fled the room when he released her hand. She felt confused, skittish, and elated. She almost looked forward to the ritual of her spanking before bed. At least she knew what to expect there. It had become routine, safe. Almost comforting.
With tear tracks on her cheeks, Vivian gasped as Mrs. Banks administered the last swat to her burning bottom. Safe? Comforting?
Yes. Strangely, yes. It was.
And between her legs, her womanhood was wet. Slick. Creamier than ever. Because the entire time, she hadn’t been able to banish the image of Gabriel from her mind. That magnetic, predatory gaze. His easy, mischievous smile. The way he tried to diminish his confident, domineering aura in order to make her more comfortable. Those strong, broad hands.
She’d almost wanted Mrs. Banks to spank her harder, because she was sure Gabriel would. As Mrs. Banks rubbed her fingers across Vivian’s pleasure bud, the earl’s image brought the gasping redhead to culmination faster than she’d ever achieved her satisfaction before.
After bringing Vivian to her moaning climax, Mrs. Banks didn’t give the young woman the opportunity to lie across her lap as she normally did. Instead, she immediately pushed the lower half of Vivian’s body off of her so she was kneeling naked between Mrs. Banks’s legs, looking up at her with dazed green eyes, a few tears still clinging to her long lashes.
Taking advantage of the young woman’s disorientation, Mrs. Banks put her fingers to Vivian’s mouth, the ones coated with the honey from her quim.
“Open up, Miss Stafford.”
The command was stated firmly, and Vivian automatically responded with compliance. Mrs. Banks’s fingers rubbed along her lower lip and then pushed between Vivian’s lips—the musky sweet taste of the juices from her own body exploded along Vivian’s tongue. She blinked and jerked back.
“No,” snapped Mrs. Banks and she hauled Vivian back up and over her lap, landing four hard slaps to each bare cheek of Vivian’s bottom, which were still dark pink from the punishment she’d already received. Shocked by this sudden brutal treatment, her body still tingling from the aftermath of her orgasm and feeling even more sensitive than usual, Vivian shrieked and kicked to no avail. She shuddered as Mrs. Banks’s fingers roughly swiped up her slit, and then Vivian was suddenly moved back onto her knees in front of her companion, the dripping fingers with their renewed coating of juices held in front of her lips. “Open up, Miss Stafford.”
Her lips trembled as she stared at the fingers. Her tongue rolled around her mouth a little, tasting the strange, musky sweetness, and then she reluctantly parted her lips. Just a tiny bit. Just enough that she had followed the order.
Instead of the reprimand Vivian half expected, Mrs. Banks practically cooed her approval. “Very good, Vivian. Such pretty lips you have, so soft and pink.”
Mrs. Banks rubbed her fingers along Vivian’s lips, coating them with the orgasmic juices from Vivian’s pussy. The musky smell filled her nose and she felt rather lightheaded, although she was unsure if it was from the abrupt second spanking over Mrs. Banks’s lap or the heady smell of the honey coating her lips.
“It feels nice to have your lips touched, doesn’t it? To taste your cream . . . it’s sweet, isn’t it?” Mrs. Banks’s voice was almost hypnotic, the tips of her fingers pushing just very slightly into Vivian’s mouth before pulling back out again and running over her pouty lips, then back in and out and around. Each time she pushed a little deeper, speaking soothingly to Vivian about what a good girl she was, and how nice it felt to have Vivian’s lips on her fingers. Eventually she was rewarded when Vivian’s tongue flicked against her fingertips.
“That’s it, Vivian,” cooed Mrs. Banks, leaning forward to establish more intimacy between them. Her blue eyes held Vivian’s, almost the way a snake’s would, and Vivian found herself unable to look away as she fell under the companion’s spell. “Lick my fingers, suck on them . . . Doesn’t it feel nice? Don’t stop licking while you’re sucking. Don’t use your teeth except very, very lightly . . . that’s it . . .”
She moved her fingers back and forth in Vivian’s mouth, mimicking the way the earl would one day use his cock, knowing Vivian had no idea what she was being trained for. The young woman sucked and licked every drop of cream from Mrs. Banks’s fingers.
The dream-like haze Vivian was in felt stronger than ever. She didn’t know why Mrs. Banks was doing this, or why the earl might desire it be done, yet she did find some pleasure in the act. It wasn’t the same kind of pleasure that came from sucking on a lolly, but there was some kind of strange enjoyment in it. Perhaps it was the flush of heat from her bottom that she’d grown so accustomed to, or the satiated glow in her body that always followed her climax, but everything felt good right now. She truly enjoyed having praise heaped upon her by Mrs.
Banks, as well as the stroking of her hair, which always felt good.
Mrs. Banks had Vivian suckle on her fingers for a few more minutes before she helped the young woman to her shaky feet and got her ready for bed, well pleased with the progress her student had made during this first week.
“You will have Saturday to do with as you please,” she told Vivian as she helped her into bed. “I would suggest that tomorrow you study with the other girls at some point.” Sunday, of course, was spent in church and doing other small, quiet pursuits.
Being the obedient young woman that she was, Vivian did exactly that the next day.
In conclusion, Miss Stafford shows all signs of flourishing under this course of study. She responds to spankings with arousal and pleasure, and it is probable she will respond to other punishments in a similar fashion. As you requested, I have encouraged this response to her spankings by following all of them by bringing her to climax. The most effective way to reprimand her is by expressing disappointment. She strives for praise and is deeply moved by what she sees as a failure to please her superiors. I suspect her inherent responses to her continued training will closely match your expressed desires.
Yours to command,
Mrs. Honoria Banks
Leaning back in his chair, Gabriel re-read the last paragraph Mrs. Banks had penned. Vivian had responded to the training exactly the way he’d thought she would. The school was already bringing out her inner submissiveness and awakening her passions. His cock had been rock hard ever since the night before, when he’d had dinner with Vivian. His glorious Sunrise.
It was a good thing he’d had dinner with her before receiving the report, or he might not have been able to control himself. The meal had been hard enough, thinking about all the things he’d like to do to her, all the
things she was learning. But she’d been nervous with him still, too. Certainly it sounded as though she was opening up to Mrs. Banks during their evening lessons, but she was already comfortable with her companion. She wouldn’t be so with him. As much as it burned him to wait, he knew Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Banks were correct when they said his involvement in those lessons should come later.
Sitting upright, he settled his boots on the floor and began to pen a letter to Mrs. Cunningham, thanking her for the report and asking when he could visit with Vivian again. The more time he spent with her, the better she would come to know him and, hopefully, the sooner she would be ready to have him join her training.
He had just finished writing and sealing the note when his butler knocked on his study door.
“The Earl of Marley is here to see you, my lord.”
Ah, his eldest sister’s husband. They were going to embark on a business venture together; Alexander was insistent that railroads were the way of the future.
“Thank you, Verner. Take this letter and frank it for me,” he said, holding out the letter he’d just written. “And send Alexander in.”
“Very good, my lord.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
ON SUNDAY EVENING, MRS. CUNNINGHAM summoned Mrs. Banks to her office. When Mrs. Banks arrived she found the headmistress sitting behind her desk as usual, dressed in a severely cut grey gown that did nothing to flatter her already harsh features.
“I read your report and you’ve had a wonderfully successful week with Miss Stafford,” said Mrs. Cunningham approvingly, flipping through the papers on her desk. “I must congratulate you on a job well done so far.”
“Thank you,” said Mrs. Banks with a pleased smile. “She’s a delight to work with, very responsive and very eager to learn.”
Mrs. Cunningham’s eyes roved over the last page of her copy of the report Mrs. Banks sent to the earl. “I’d like you to begin on restraints with her this week. I know the earl is eager to join in her training soon and I would like to accommodate him. We must be sure she will not balk. I do not want him to think we have not been thorough in her schooling.”