by Loki Renard
Her fingers circled faster and faster in little swirls, making round ripples on the surface of the bath as she silently rubbed herself to what felt like a stolen climax. It was hard not to let out little moans, or to make the water slosh back and forth. She even had to try to control her breathing, which was coming in shorter and shorter breaths as her excitement grew, the tingling and warmth in her clit spreading outwards, reaching through her body in welling waves that made her more reckless and more excited with every breath.
Heat suffused her face as Lorcan glanced over his shoulder. “Those are some very quiet washing sounds, lass. Are you still awake?”
“I’m just…” she squeaked, running out of excuses before she’d even made one. “I am cleaning myself,” she said lamely, feeling the peak of the pleasure still so far away, but the stimulation making her pussy throb.
“Mhm. I think you’ve had long enough in that bath.” He picked up a towel and held it out in her direction.
Blushing, and somewhat sure that he knew precisely what she had been doing, Hannah took the towel from his outstretched hand and did her best to simultaneously wrap it around herself as she stood up, claiming a little modesty back. It was nice to be covered, the towel the first semblance of privacy since she’d woken up in his presence. She clutched at it tightly, glad for the soft shield.
She avoided his gaze, but his deep voice carried a knowing tone. “Come through to the bedroom and we’ll talk.”
There was something ominous in his words, something about the way he said ‘talk’ that didn’t feel like he wanted to talk at all, but she didn’t really have any choice. There were no windows in the little bathroom and she didn’t want to come across as defiant. Lorcan already seemed somewhat inclined to punish what he thought of as bad behavior.
“It’s really nice of you to have helped me,” she said as she followed his broad frame. “I think I’ll be okay now, if you could just find me my clothes?”
“Your clothes are in no state to be worn,” Lorcan said firmly.
“Well, I have a change of clothes in my bag,” Hannah said, her tone brightening as she suddenly realized that she was not completely out of luck.
“Your bag? We didn’t see a bag.”
“Fuck!” Hannah swore to herself. She must have left it behind at the pub. The only things she had with her were the locket and the book, the two things she would never have gone anywhere without. “My bag had all my clothes in it… my passport… and my fucking money too.” She sat down on the bed, sighing deeply. “I am so fucked.”
“We’ll send someone to see if they have it at the Rusty Shank,” Lorcan reassured her. “Chances are Moira has it behind the bar. Don’t worry about any of that right now.”
He spoke in a calm, confident tone that made her feel as though everything really would be okay, but Hannah knew she’d fucked up, and all the nice reassuring words couldn’t change that.
“I made such a mess of everything,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “You must think I’m a terrible person.”
“I don’t think anything of the sort,” Lorcan replied. “I think you need a guiding hand, and I think I’m the hand you need.”
Hannah kept her face covered. As far as she was concerned, it had all been a huge mistake. She wasn’t ready to come this far, and in the cold light of day she was starting to think that there was no great mystery. In fact, following a diary halfway across the world was something crazy people did. Honoraria hadn’t been leading her anywhere; she’d probably made half the thing up from her hotel room at the Savoy.
Pure adrenaline and wild hope and a perfectly childish belief in the impossible had taken her so far away from home that it physically hurt. She missed America. She missed the big highways and the bright signs and she missed her phone. She hadn’t even brought it with her, figuring it wouldn’t work on the British networks anyway. She was completely cut off from civilization, suddenly dependent on a complete stranger whose intentions were not entirely clear and whose customs were beyond strange.
“Are you alright? Do you want to be sick?”
“I’m not alright,” she said with a bitter laugh. “I’m… I came all this way because of a stupid book and look at me. It was all just a stupid idea and…” She let her voice trail off, not wanting to tell Lorcan any more about her mad idea. He would probably laugh at her. He already thought she was a silly girl who couldn’t handle her drink—or a bath, for that matter.
“You’ll feel better once you’ve been held to account for your actions,” he said in that same confident tone as before. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to travel and explore the world. You just got a little out of hand.”
“Held to account,” she sighed and looked up at him. “What does that even mean?”
Lorcan sat next to her on the bed, and for a moment Hannah thought he was going to offer some kind words of advice. He reached out and put his hand over hers.
“It means you get a long, hard spanking.”
“What? No!”
“What did you think was going to happen?”
“I thought you’d say something nice, tell me everything is going to be alright. Tea and crumpets, eh wot?”
“That’s not how we deal with miscreants in this part of the world.” He patted his dark denim-clad thigh. “Let’s get this over with, pup.”
“No!” Hannah’s exclamation sounded strangled. “I mean, please, mister, I don’t know why I did any of that, but I promise I don’t usually do things like that. That was my first night drinking…”
He let out a snort. “Well, you had a hell of a first night. And there are consequences for that. So come here and lie over my lap.”
Lorcan spoke with almost soothing tones, though there was a firmness that reminded her he was ordering her to let him spank her bottom.
“I’m not from here,” she said in an attempt to invoke some kind of cultural immunity. “So I, uh, didn’t know that I could… that this would…”
“You thought you’d get away with it,” he said, his lips twisting in a dark smirk. “That’s not any reason to let you.”
His hand closed a little around her wrist, spurring Hannah into immediate, panicked action. She squirmed out of his grasp and dived away from him, every part of her naked body exposed to his eyes as she flailed across the bed and tried to make an escape. It did not work. If anything, she played directly into his hands, the towel falling away to leave her completely naked.
He leaned over, wrapped his strong arm around her waist and pulled her back over his thighs in one smooth motion that was not at all impeded by her wriggling and complaining.
As Hannah found herself face down against the coverlet, all she could think was that this was yet another embarrassment and indignity to add to the many she had suffered since arriving in Darkwood. She could almost have resigned herself to it, if not for the promise of pain that accompanied the undignified position.
“I don’t know what cultural significance this has for you,” she said in an attempt to be understanding, “but this wouldn’t be appropriate where I’m from.”
“Would getting blind drunk be appropriate?” Lorcan smoothed his large masculine palm over the bare curve of her bottom, and suddenly Hannah forgot all about her reservations. His touch sent a tingle racing through the very core of her, reigniting the excitement from the bath and making her forget her regrets almost immediately.
“Maybe not,” she admitted as her hips made involuntary squirming motions. Thus far Lorcan had not seemed to view her as a sexual creature. Even when naked in the bath his looks had not held a great deal in the way of observable ardor, but now Hannah was sure she could sense something between them. She was not sure of that though. In matters of love, she was something of a novice. She had never been with a man before. She’d never had to bathe herself in front of a man before either, and she’d certainly never been spanked by one.
Lorcan’s palm lifted awa
y for a moment, then returned with a hard swat that sent a shock through her body. Hannah let out a squeal more of surprise than of pain.
“That hurts!”
“Spankings tend to,” Lorcan replied dryly.
“No, I mean, it hurts,” she whimpered. “Why would you want to hurt me?”
She sounded pitiful even to her own ears, and hoped that it would work to change his mind. Lorcan was a big man with big hands and a powerful arm. If he’d wanted to he could have smacked her bottom a lot harder than he had, but the sting she was already experiencing was more than enough.
“I don’t want to hurt you, brat,” he rumbled in his deep refined tones. “I want to teach you a lesson you’ll remember.”
“You don’t think I’ll remember waking up in a stranger’s bed and having a bath with him? You think I have amnesia or something?”
Her cheek was rewarded with a hard swat that captured almost her entire bottom and set it alight with tingling stinging sensations.
“I think you’re a spoiled little brat who needs a good spanking to teach her a lesson, and that’s just what you’re going to get, pup.”
She blushed as he used the diminutive term again, making her feel small and naughty. Those feelings passed quickly into squirming squealing ones that accompanied a barrage of firm slaps to her bottom. Lorcan was spanking her in earnest now, his palm meeting the curve of her rear over and over again with enough force to make her jolt against his thigh and feel the burn seeping through her heated skin.
It was enough to produce a cascade of apologies, some of which made sense, some of which made no sense at all.
“I didn’t know this was going to happen!” she squealed as his palm blazed against her bottom.
“Oh, I am sure you didn’t,” he chuckled, not letting the revelation in any way moderate the heat of the fire already burning on her rear. “That’s a large part of the reason why you need this. You’re spoiled. You were raised in a world without consequences.”
“You don’t know that! You don’t know me!”
“I know you well enough,” Lorcan said. “I know you by your actions.”
“Yeah? Well… why do you even care, then?”
“Because I know bad things happen to young ladies who behave recklessly. Because I hope that you’ll learn something from this and never get yourself blackout drunk again. Anything could have happened to you. You’re a long way from home, nobody to take care of you…”
“Except men who take it upon themselves. Except you,” she pointed out from her precarious position. “Do you save every drunk girl in the Rusty Shank? Do you take them all home? Do you have a bath fetish?”
He slapped her bottom again, though not as hard as before. “A bath fetish? No. But I admit, I have a soft spot for stubborn little whelps, not that I have brought any home before. We don’t find many strays quite so far from home as you in Darkwood. It’s not a major destination for bratty young women.”
“Whelp, is that better than pup?”
He swatted her bare bottom yet again. “I don’t think you’re learning your lesson. You’re doing far too much arguing.”
He started spanking her again in earnest, his palm catching her on one cheek and then the other with swift, sharp slaps that made her ass burn with new intensity. The initial slaps had hurt, but these ones were building on that warmth to create something more akin to a furnace in her bottom.
“Lorcan! Stop it! This isn’t my fault! I didn’t know! It was a mistake!” She threw all her previous excuses and pleas at him in one long sentence, which did not help one little bit. Lorcan kept spanking her with a firm determination that ignored her discomfort and instead focused on his intended goal—giving her a physical reminder she’d never forget.
There was a grimness about him now. As her pain escalated she got the distinct impression that he was not enjoying what he was doing. There was no glee in his voice, and there was certainly no indication against her hip. He was spanking her long and he was spanking her hard and Hannah was certain she would not be able to sit for a long time, maybe not even stand. Her rear felt as though it were swollen to twice its size, her skin hot and taut over two flaming rounds that no longer felt like a proper part of her.
It was just as he had said. This was something he was doing for her own good. She did not know why he had brought such a thing on himself, why he’d taken her from the pub, or cleaned her up, or given her a bed. She was simultaneously overwhelmed with the heat in her ass and the odd feeling of being taken care of and watched over.
“When you’re in Darkwood, you’ll moderate your behavior,” he lectured firmly. “You’ll mind your language, your manners, and your alcohol intake. Understand?”
“Yes!” Hannah squealed the only word she thought had a halfway good chance of stopping the spanking.
“And you’ll stay out of the Rusty Shank after midnight and well away from the heath too. It’s not safe for a girl like you. There are all sorts of dangers in this village, and you’re not equipped to deal with any of them.”
Hannah would have agreed to almost any terms to avoid prolonging the painful and embarrassing predicament she found herself in. At first she had thought that he was nothing more than a pervert getting his thrills by stripping her naked and playing with her. But Lorcan barely seemed to care that she was nude. He was treating her as little more than a naughty girl to be spanked, and spank her he did, on and on far past the point where Hannah spluttered promise after promise to behave, all the way to the brink of tears.
She had never been so chastised. She had never felt her bottom heat and swell until every slap was played across her rear with an impact like a drum, resonating through her body, zips of electricity bolting from the tips of her toes, making her fingers fizzle with an excited heat that accompanied a thoroughly unexpected arousal.
Oh, God. The final humiliation. To have tears streaming down her face, and to have her pussy beginning to grow wet. Her reaction was as unfathomable as it was uncontrollable. Her body seemed to be acting of its own accord. Her lower lips were swelling, the bud of her clit tight and rubbing against the rough denim of Lorcan’s jeans. The harder his hand landed, the more her arousal grew, a force all of its own that transformed discipline to something else.
He might have thought of her as nothing but some waif to be rescued, but Hannah felt like he was much, much more than just her rescuer. Back home she had been so focused on getting out of there that she’d never bothered to pay more than cursory attention to the boys around her. But Lorcan was not a boy. Lorcan was a man. An attractive man holding her naked body against him and welting her bottom until tears began to trickle down her cheeks in much the same way her juices were starting to flow between her thighs, slicking her labia and the top of his jeans.
She let out a gasping sob as the spanking stopped for a moment, not knowing if it was a brief reprieve, or if Lorcan simply had some other torment in store for her.
He palmed her right cheek, his fingers settling low into the crevice of her ass, less than an inch away from her wet lower lips.
“Have you learned your lesson, whelp?”
Hannah blinked furiously to try to get the last of the tears out of her eyes. She knew he would be able to hear her tears in her voice if she could not stop crying.
“Yessir,” she mumbled quickly, the ‘sir’ coming naturally.
“Good,” he said, his voice rough and tender at the same time. He slid his hand back and forth over her cheeks, rubbing across the center of her ass in a slow motion that soothed some of the sting away but also allowed the very tips of his fingers to brush lightly against her pussy. Hannah caught her breath and stayed very still, not knowing if he’d meant to touch her like that. It felt amazing, the brief strokes allowing her some pleasure in what was otherwise a painful interlude.
She should have hated him for spanking her, but instead she felt a closeness and an openness, which made very little sense to her
. Instinctively her thighs spread a little wider and her hips rose a fraction of an inch. She was offering herself to him, though she could never have admitted as much. A part of her was responding to him without words, and without thought.
Hannah was rewarded when his hand slid from her hot bottom and she felt his fingers close over her bare pussy, cupping her gently. She let out a soft moan as his touch acknowledged what she could not—that being spanked, and spanked hard, had made her more aroused than anything that had ever come before it.
She could feel him gently massaging her between her thighs, a touch that was almost more comforting than sexual, though her pussy was slicking his palm and fingers and her arousal was growing by the moment. This was more than she had ever experienced with any man, and still it was not enough. Something had awakened inside her, something that made her even more reckless and even more full of primal desire than she had been when she first tasted the Rusty Shank’s beer.
Her hips began to rise and fall as she began to grind against his hand, shamelessly pleasuring herself against the same strong fingers that had first punished her. Lorcan slid his fingers up and for a moment she was deprived of his touch, but a moment later she felt the tip of his finger sliding along the center of her lips and pressing slowly inside the tight channel of her pussy.
Hannah let out a little moan as Lorcan pushed himself inside her. Just his finger, but the finger stretched her pussy and it made her walls clench around it and she finally knew what it was to have a man become part of her.
It was all happening so fast she was not sure what to make of any of it. Her body had taken the lead, her desire had taken over from sense and she wanted more, more of him.
Lorcan gave a small sigh. “I knew you were going to be trouble,” he mused almost to himself as his free fingers brushed close to her swelling nether lips, the one still inside her swirling gently with a slow motion.