by Golden Angel
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Sunrise,” he said. One of his hands slipped between her legs to rub his fingers along her wet folds, igniting the most incredible sensations. He ignored her gasp and the way her back arched, and continued to play and tease, to circle around her swollen clit but never touch it. “I’m happy you like it. I’m going to touch every inch of your body with my hands and my tongue, I’m going to invade you and hurt you and pleasure you and possess you, and I want to know that you’ll love every minute of it.”
One long finger slid inside her, and Vivian cried out as her body spasmed around the questing digit. His words created a firestorm within her. The images flashing through her head were fuzzy, indistinct, and yet incredibly arousing from the small parts she understood. The finger plunging inside her and the plug in her bottom that he was now twisting gave her some idea of what he might have in mind.
She cried out as the heel of his palm pressed against her clit, and she tightened her fingers on his shoulders. Gabriel applied the pressure and friction she craved as she rode against his hand.
“I’m going to tie you up, and whip you, and take you in every hole until you’re utterly and completely mine.”
His fingers stroked inside of her, accompanied by a push at the base of the plug in her anus, and every muscle in her body seemed to tighten and then release in a wave of blissful pleasure that had her crying out and clutching his shoulders. Teeth caught at her nipple as she writhed, her splayed legs trying to squeeze together as the relentless rubbing of her clit made her spasm. The little nubbin was almost too sensitive to bear the stimulation, and yet she couldn’t even beg him to stop or slow as she sobbed out her ecstasy.
Gabriel watched her fluttering eyelashes, her flushed cheeks, as she came for him. Triumph surged through him, not only at his mastery over her pleasure, but at her obvious arousal at his words. With his finger inside her he’d been able to feel every spasm, every clench, as the impact of his words were taken in.
He rubbed the sensitive folds of her pussy until she slumped on his lap, her fingers no longer digging into his skin through the fabric of his jacket.
“Good girl,” he crooned, lifting his honey-coated digits to her mouth.
Testament to her good training, half-dazed as she was, Vivian immediately started licking them clean. Gabriel felt a tingle in his groin, but he forced down his own desires, knowing full well that if he had his way, he would never leave her bedroom. Unfortunately, it was not possible yet.
But soon. Very soon.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE NEXT DAY Vivian WAS ON TENTERHOOKS until Gabriel appeared. The young ladies were having their own “at-home” in the practicum house, giving them yet another opportunity to practice being hostesses. This was much more stressful and fraught with opportunities to make a mistake, as they had more responsibility. Their companions had made it clear that more was expected of them now that they’d attended some true at-homes and so should be more knowledgeable.
She still had some trouble understanding how the many faces of her future husband came together to make a whole. There was the confident, attentive gentleman who escorted her about the at-homes and was every inch the tonnish earl. In more private surroundings there was the almost playful, teasing man who made her giggle and laugh. On the other side of the equation there was also the stern disciplinarian with the hot, flashing eyes, who oversaw her punishment and enjoyed it. And then there was the gentle, tender man who had cradled and cuddled her last night in her punishment chair after pleasuring her to limpness and had tucked her into bed almost rever ently before placing a light kiss on her lips. It didn’t seem possible that all those aspects could belong to the same man, and yet they did.
More and more she became obsessed with finding out more about him. While she waited for him to appear at the at-home, she managed to turn her conversation with the visiting ladies to the Earl of Cranborne, so that she might hear some gossip about her betrothed. Some of it made her stomach turn queasily, mostly having to do the women he’d had as mistresses or lovers—not that anyone said anything specific, but the sly hints and vague comments built a picture she couldn’t mistake. The rest of it was fascinating. His protectiveness over his sisters, his friendships with their husbands, his championing of his stepmother when she’d first married his father despite her lower status, his reputation as a Corinthian and a rake, and the tales of wild races, hunts, and a few forbidden duels.
When his presence was finally announced it was almost a relief from the deluge of information. Especially as her worries about other women were assuaged, once again, by his demeanor towards her. She believed him when he said there would be no other woman but her now, as he certainly gave her no reason to think otherwise, but she could not help her feelings of jealousy over the women who had been before her. Still, she could tell he felt the same way whenever she was speaking with another man. Gabriel kept her arm pressed to his side every time they were speaking with any other gentleman, whereas he held it much more loosely when they were speaking to a woman.
And all through the afternoon, she found her mind drifting towards the upcoming evening and her inevitable punishment.
Her punishment was going to be worse than ever, as it turned out. Astoria had spitefully spilled a cup of tea on Vivian’s dress, spattering the earl with some of the liquid as well. She was immediately overly apologetic, mostly to Gabriel, and when Vivian returned from patting her dress dry, Astoria was hanging all over him. While Gabriel seemed more amused at the young lady’s antics and her obvious eye-fluttering and compliments, something angry and awful had taken hold of Vivian’s insides.
Reclaiming Gabriel’s arm, Vivian smiled thinly at Astoria’s repeated apology.
“I’m so glad to see it didn’t ruin your dress,” the pretty blonde said with false sincerity. “How fortunate you weren’t wearing silk.” She brushed her own skirts, flaunting the yellow silk her gown was made out of, as if to emphasize her higher social and financial status over Vivian’s. It was not the first time someone had obliquely referred to Vivian’s family’s status in comparison to the earl’s, but it was the first time it got under Vivian’s skin.
“I’ve always considered it a good practice to wear more durable fabrics in the afternoon. After all, it only takes one person lacking grace to ruin a gown.”
Immediately Vivian regretted the words. Not because of the look on Astoria’s face when she was so blatantly set down—that was delightful—but because the sudden stiffness of the earl’s body and the look Mrs. Banks gave her said her bottom would be paying for her rudeness later.
It was so infuriating that an obviously false spill and an oblique insult was acceptable, but because Vivian had been more blatantly insulting in response, she was now the one in trouble. Darkly, she thought there was little chance Astoria’s bottom would be paying any kind of price for her maneuver.
Fortunately, Emily, who was the most adroit at social situations, smoothly stepped into the breach with her cheery good nature. “I should say so, I’m sure that’s why Mama never allows me silks. I’d ruin them in a heartbeat.”
Everyone within earshot chuckled and the tension immediately dissipated, leaving Vivian feeling worse than before. In one sentence, Emily had aligned herself with Vivian and set down Astoria for her comment about the material of Vivian’s dress, and at the same time set down Vivian for her comment about Astoria’s supposed clumsiness, without being blatant or insulting to either of them. It was the kind of social cue Vivian had absolutely no practice in and obviously needed to learn. Compared to her own response, Emily’s had been verbal grace.
Even more so, she could sense the earl’s disapproval with her and she felt herself wilting. Immediately she withdrew behind the only social mask she had any practice at; that of the demure, retiring, modest young miss who had very little to say for fear of offending anyone.
Gabriel could sense the difference in her demeanor, but he didn’t quite know what to do a
bout it. Vivian had done herself more harm than good with her little comment—not only had she shown that she was not as adept in awkward social situations as she needed to be to successfully navigate the backbiting atmosphere of the ton, but she’d also shown a weak spot. He wasn’t fooled by Lady Astoria’s conventionally pretty exterior; he could tell she was a viper underneath. Women like her would enjoy weak spots like the one Vivian had just displayed.
But he didn’t like the way Vivian retreated into herself, either. The sparkle had completely gone out of her green eyes, which looked dulled even as she listened attentively to the story Lord Lilienfield was telling. Her little laugh upon completion of the story was genuine and yet completely lacking the joyous freedom she usually displayed. While he didn’t want her to think he approved of her rudeness, which was not only beneath her but also damaging, and he knew she needed to learn a better tactic, he also didn’t want her to disappear within herself. Somehow he had to show her some kind of encouragement before she completely closed herself off before his eyes.
As if on cue, the elderly Lord Lilienfield gave her an encouraging smile before his eyes slid to Gabriel. “You’re lucky I’m not twenty years younger, Cranborne, or I’d have to steal this gem away from you.”
Vivian visibly brightened at the praise.
“You could try,” Gabriel said dryly, pulling her closer to him and looping his arm around her back. It was treading the line of propriety to be so openly tactile with her, but as they were at an at-home and the rumors of their lovematch were swirling, not to mention Vivian’s small misstep, he knew it would be tolerated. In fact, such a blatant display of affection on his part would be much more interesting to the gossips than any small verbal blunder Vivian had made. “I can guarantee you’d have the fight of your life.”
Lord Lilienfield chortled. “Good show, good show. Trust you to recognize when you’ve got a prize and to hold onto it with both hands.”
Still chuckling, the elderly lord ambled away.
“Come on, Sunrise,” Gabriel said, loudly enough for everyone to hear the endearment. “Let’s get you some refreshments before Lilienfield tries to steal you away from me.” His head descended to her ear and he knew everyone would assume he was whispering something scandalous or romantic to her. “I’m going to spank the hell out of you for being rude later, but only because you’re better than that. Next time, don’t descend to her level.”
The encouraging smile he gave her as he lifted his head again and led her to the table of lemonade and small sandwiches helped to raise Vivian’s spirits. Her stomach no longer felt as though it had settled in the vicinity of her ankles. While her bottom might pay the price later, she felt better.
“Please, please, please, I’ll be good . . .” Vivian let out another shriek of pain as the earl’s hand crashed down on her already cherry-colored bottom. More tears joined the twin rivers already flowing down her cheeks and watering the floor beneath her.
The entire nature of her discipline had changed this evening and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Mrs. Banks’s litany of Vivian’s mistakes had been quite a list, as well as very specific. And, unfortunately for Vivian, Mrs. Banks was not the one doling out the punishment this evening.
It was the earl who had helped Vivian to disrobe, earning a series of fetching shivers from her. His hands had brushed her skin constantly, and she was sure he was doing it purposefully, as Mrs. Banks’s hands never touched her that much. Then she’d been tipped over his lap, just as she had been the previous evening. Again, his hard cock had already been digging into her side, his hands had squeezed and rubbed her bottom to warm the skin.
But then he’d spoken. “So. Twenty-eight swats and then ten with the hairbrush. I expect you to be very sorry by the end of this, Sunrise, and I also expect you to try to improve. I want you to be a good girl for me so we can have enjoyable spankings instead of punishment ones.”
Enjoyable spankings? He gave her no time to ponder the idea.
Smack!
Vivian had howled in pain and indignation as the earl’s hand came down on her vulnerable backside—harder and stronger than Mrs. Banks had ever managed.
Thwack!
The second swat had taken her breath away; the “warming” he’d done to her bottom had in no way prepared her for the stinging blows now raining down onto her vulnerable backside. His hand was hard, unyielding, and she could feel the flesh of her entire buttocks as well as her thighs jiggling and dancing with every blow. Despite how much harder he spanked than Mrs. Banks, Vivian’s body thrilled to be under his control. It was much more arousing, much more intimate, and highly exciting, fulfilling all the fantasies she’d had ever since she’d begun her marriage training.
She didn’t understand how she could be so blissfully happy even as she was being punished and her bottom was burning with the stinging pain.
By the fourth swat she was crying, by the seventh her legs had begun to kick, and by the tenth she had started a begging, pleading chant filled with promises. She would be good, she was desperate to prove to him that she could improve. Somehow this was so much more personal than any of the spankings she’d received from Mrs. Banks; and not just because she could feel his arousal pressing into her side as he punished her.
Gabriel could see the high gloss on her pussy lips as her legs kicked out. He loved the way her breath sobbed as she pleaded, the dance of her flesh, the peeks of her swollen lips that he received as she squirmed and thrashed for him. Although he could have easily stopped her kicking, he rather enjoyed seeing his composed and demure Vivian completely lose her control. This was the appropriate setting for it, unlike her sniping insult to Lady Astoria earlier today.
His cock was absolutely rigid, throbbing with desire to plunge into her, as he could see that, despite her protests and begging, she was highly aroused by her punishment.
“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight,” he counted out. Vivian slumped over his lap immediately, sobbing now that the spanking was over.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . .”
“Shh.” He rubbed his hand over her shoulders gently. “You’re forgiven, sweetness. I know you’ll try to do better in the future. That’s what spankings are for, and once they’re over you don’t need to worry about being forgiven, because you already have been. You don’t need to feel sorry. Only ten more with the brush and then we’re completely done.”
“No, please,” Vivian begged. She couldn’t imagine having the hard back of the wooden brush laid over the flaming skin on her bottom. The throbbing heat was already spread out over her entire bottom, her sit-spot, and the tops of her thighs. There couldn’t be a single spot devoid of bright color, a single patch of unmarked skin that could take the additional swats.
“Now, Sunrise, you must take your punishment. If I didn’t follow through with your promised discipline, then what kind of husband would I be?”
Even as she started crying again, Vivian knew that, deep down, if Gabriel had acquiesced to her plea, some part of her would have been disappointed. Her backside would have rejoiced, even her mind, but another part of her would have seen it as a weakness on his part. And she loved his strength. Instinctively responded to it. Felt relief that he hadn’t given in, even if she didn’t fully understand her reaction.
She wouldn’t even realize until much later that she never once considered saying the words that would end it all.
Thwack!
Gabriel thought he might actually climax from the heavenly feeling of Vivian’s body squirming against him as he spanked her. The jiggling red cheeks of her bottom were flattened with every swat of the brush, showing white for a moment after impact before immediately darkening. He fantasized about burying himself in her wet slickness, feeling the press of her hot skin against his belly as he took her.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
The meaty thunk of the wooden-backed brush against Vivian’s rounded flesh, combined with her cries, pleas, and c
hanting promises to be good, was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Even more so than any of the punishments he’d witnessed, because now she was suffering at his hand, rather than another’s. Her bottom was a deep, swollen red by the time he finished.
But the reason he was so inflamed by her punishment was the aftermath, when he dropped the hairbrush to the floor and thrust his hand between her legs. A moment ago they’d been kicking. Now they were draped, slightly apart, with just enough space for him to slide his fingers into the folds of her pussy.
They came away coated in honey, and his cock jerked.
The punishment was effective, as it should be, because Vivian didn’t enjoy pain; but she couldn’t help her arousal from his dominance over her. And Gabriel was grateful for that, for although he enjoyed spanking a woman, he knew he would not want to punish Vivian nightly—only when she truly deserved it. And, as sweet as she was, he knew she would not deserve it often. He looked forward to when her training was over and they were married and he could give her more sensual spankings they would both enjoy.
But when she needed to be disciplined, as she truly had this evening, he would not hold back. And he was pleased to know her body would still respond.
Pulling her up onto his lap, Gabriel cuddled her for a moment, enjoying her whimpers as she was pressed against his legs. Mrs. Banks gave him a nod before she made her way out of the room. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dried her tears, allowing her to blow her nose, until her crying had stopped. From what he’d seen and heard, he knew his spanking was much harsher—and therefore more effective—than anything Mrs. Banks was able to dole out.
“You did very well, sweetness. I’m proud of you. And you’re not going to make the same mistakes twice, are you?”
“No,” Vivian said, a little miserably as she clung to him. Part of her wondered how she could want his comfort and the warmth of his arms so much when he was the one who had punished her, but it didn’t change the desire. And most of her was too busy enjoying being in his arms to care about the irony. “I won’t be rude again.”