Papa's Rules
Page 8
There was a long pause during which Cammie felt certain her papa was trying to figure out how to get her out of his house as quickly as possible.
Perhaps she ought to have kept quiet, but already she loved her papa too much to let him suffer the shame of her vulgar bloodline.
To her surprise, Papa pulled her close to his chest and buried his face in her hair, then tipped her face up so he could look into her eyes as he spoke. “Thank you for trusting me with your secret. You are a courageous young lady, and I am proud of you for telling me.”
Cammie stared into his beautiful dark eyes, memorizing the color and shape in case she never saw him again.
“I am going to tell you something very important,” he said, “and you must listen carefully because I never want you to worry about this issue again. All I need to know about your mother, or any of your relations, is that she created you, a beautiful, sweet, desirable young lady who I will be proud to have as my wife, Lady Cavendish, forever. Do you understand?”
Shocked, Cammie gaped at her papa and nodded her head. “Yes, Papa. Are you absolutely certain?”
“I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” he said, before taking her lips with his.
Chapter Seven
It had been a day of greetings and good-byes for Cammie. First thing in the morning she had said good-bye to Hyacinth, Daisy, Rosie and the other girls at Talcott House, even bossy Garland, with a lump in her throat, excited about meeting her papa, but also anxious over leaving the place that had been her home and safe haven for six years. Her life before Talcott House had been filled with hunger and fear. What she could never get over was the freezing cold of winter. Even now, the slightest blast of winter cold filled her with fear and anxiety, a physical reminder of the hardships she had endured. Hardships which Miss Wickersham and now Lord Cavendish had assured her were a thing long in the past. Still, those were memories she might never banish from her thinking.
The sadness of her departure was overshadowed by the thrill of meeting Lord Cavendish, the man who would be her husband and very special papa who would care for her and love her. A thrill of excitement fluttered through her stomach just thinking about it. And then she had said good-bye to Miss Wickersham. Hardly a tear filled departure, as Miss Wickersham kept a tight rein on her own emotions, but Cammie felt certain she had heard a small catch in her teacher’s voice as she said good-bye and wished Cammie happiness in her future. Miss Wickersham might have even wiped away a tear or two during the wedding ceremony which had been conducted in the drawing room with the vicar officiating and Lord Cavendish’s manservant and Miss Wickersham as witnesses.
Now, it was afternoon and Cammie’s busy day still had much activity left to it. She was officially Lady Cavendish. She stood next to her husband and hugged herself around the middle hardly able to believe the turn her life had taken. She shuddered to think what might have happened to her without the benevolent intervention of Miss Wickersham.
Papa and Cammie were eating their evening meal in his large master bedroom upon a small table that had been set up near the window so they could see the sun lowering in the evening sky as they dined.
Cammie tried to eat her food like a good girl but her attention kept being drawn to the large bed which occupied the majority of the room. Papa’s room. The room where he had said they would sleep together and share a bed. Cammie still was not entirely certain what happened between married people in the bed, despite Nurse Lister’s explanation, but the jittery feeling in her stomach made it hard for her to eat her dinner.
“Camellia,” Papa said, pausing until she met his gaze before he continued, “is there a problem with the food? If so, I will speak to cook about it immediately.”
“Oh no, Papa,” Cammie replied. She hated the idea of the cook getting a scolding simply because she was too nervous to eat. “The food is delicious.”
“If it is so delicious, as you say, Camellia, then why does so much remain upon your plate?” Papa’s voice was stern but there was a twinkle in his eye that made Cammie feel not quite so nervous about his question.
“I,” she started to answer but her eyes kept wandering to the bed with its heap of pillows and large soft looking quilt. It was so high up from the floor, she wondered if she would even be able to get in and out of it without assistance. Her toes curled in her shoes as she thought about Papa lifting her into the bed.
“I see that you seem preoccupied by the bed, is that true, Cammie?”
If she answered truthfully, would he think she was too forward? However, she dared not lie, not to her papa, not on their wedding day. When she did not answer quickly enough, Papa tapped his finger on the linen covered table. “I am awaiting your reply, Camellia.”
“I-I am nervous about...about...” Her eyes darted to the bed again and then back down at the plate of food getting cold on the table before her. “Papa, I do not know what...what I mean to say is...what if you...what if I...”
Papa chuckled and taking her hand in his, gently pulled her from her seat and set her upon his lap. It seemed to be a favorite way for him to hold and talk to her and Cammie had no complaints for she liked it very much too. “It will be for me to teach you the things that married people do together, Cammie. That is my honor and duty as your husband.”
Yes, Papa,” she replied and snuggled against his strong torso. When she finally relaxed against him, a large yawn pushed its way from her lips. She hurriedly covered it with both her hands and hoped that Papa did not notice, but it seemed her papa saw and heard everything she did and sometimes even what she thought.
“I believe,” Papa said, placing a sweet kiss upon her forehead, “that perhaps I need to put my little girl to bed for a nap before we commence our wedding night activities.”
Cammie sat up straight. “No, Papa, please. I do not want to wait.”
Papa’s dark gaze stilled any further protests but also heated up the swirl of desire forming in her nether region. “There will be no contradicting me, Cammie. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Papa. I am sorry.” She buried her face in his woolen jacket and wrapped her arms around his waist. “If you believe I need to take a nap, then that is what I shall do.”
“That’s my good girl,” Papa said, setting her on her feet in front of him before he stood and took her hand. Leading her back to the dressing room, he lifted her to stand atop the dressing stool. His eyes raked over her body and then he gazed into her eyes and told her how beautiful she was and how proud he was to have her as his wife. Cammie blushed and thanked him. Gently, he touched her shoulder to indicate his wish for her to turn around so he could open the fastenings on the beautiful white lace dress he had selected for her. Cammie stifled another yawn. Much as she did wish for some sleep, she loathed the idea of shedding the exquisite gown which made her feel like royalty.
Papa pushed the gown down her body and ordered her to step out of the garment. He made quick work of removing her chemise next, but allowed her to keep her drawers on, for which she was grateful. Though she felt comfortable around her papa, being completely unclothed before him still made her flush from head to toe. He turned her around to face him, and she couldn’t help but notice the heat in his dark gaze. Her heart fluttered and she beamed with a slight amount of pride, happy that he seemed to like the look of her body. She wasn’t as tall or curvy as most women, for which she had sometimes felt self-consciousness. She stole another glance into her caring papa’s handsome eyes, yet again thankful for the match Miss Wickersham had made for her.
He held up the prettiest nightdress she’d ever seen, the long sleeves and the bottom of the skirt embroidered with tiny elegant flowers. The soft cotton garment fit her perfectly, and she impulsively did a little spin for Papa once he finished putting it on her, giggling as the skirt flared out in a billowing wave.
Papa chuckled and stepped back, his eyes roving over her body. “I’m pleased you like it, Cammie.”
She stifled another yawn.
He grasped her hand and led her back into her bedroom. “I hope you feel like a sleepy princess.”
“I will try my hardest to sleep for a while, Papa. I promise.” Another yawn. Perhaps the excitement of the last few days was finally catching up with her. As he guided her toward the bed, the heaviness of fatigue swept over her. Well, maybe she would fall asleep more easily than she’d originally thought.
And once she woke up…
Her heart raced. Papa would take her into his bedroom. Despite her nervousness and uncertainty about what exactly would happen in Papa’s bedroom, she found herself looking forward to this evening more and more.
Papa pulled back the covers and moved the decorative pillows to a nearby chair. Then he picked her up as if she weighed nothing and laid her on the bed. She sighed with pleasure at the feel of the soft sheets and fluffy pillow. While she’d had her own warm bed to sleep in at Talcott House, it was nothing compared to the luxuriousness of this bed. She felt positively spoiled as she ran her fingers over the sheets. She hadn’t known it was possible to find linens so soft. Papa had truly spared no expense in furnishing her bedroom. She stretched out as he pulled the thick covers atop her, enjoying the weight of the blankets.
“Thank you, Papa. This is the most comfortable bed ever.”
He sat beside her and tucked the covers up to her neck, taking great care to ensure she was snug. She stared up at him, in awe at how protected he made her feel. Nothing could hurt her when Papa was here. He would keep all the monsters away, and he would make sure she was always warm and safe. Her heart swelled with affection for the handsome man she’d met but a few hours ago.
Her new papa. Her new husband. Her whole world.
Her eyes felt heavy and she yawned yet again.
“Sleep tight, my little bride.” Papa leaned down to kiss her forehead. He gave her a warm smile and stroked her hair, then walked across the room to close the curtains before departing the room.
A dreamy sigh escaped Cammie’s lips. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes, as her increasing weariness pulled her deeper and deeper into the oblivion of sleep. Her last thought before she finally drifted off was that she must be the luckiest little girl in the whole wide world.
* * *
Alexander pulled out his pocket watch, and, noting that Cammie had been quiet in her bedroom for over two hours now, decided it was time to wake his little girl up.
His little girl. His heart warmed at the thought. She was his to love, cherish, and guide for the rest of their lives. And, once he awoke her and brought her into his room, they would officially consummate their marriage. Lust spiraled through him and he fought to steady his hand as he opened her door and slipped inside, careful to be quiet and not disturb her from her dreams. He had the strong desire to look upon her as she lay sleeping.
He approached her petite, slumbering form, and stood above her, staring down at the beautiful sweet girl he was proud to call his wife. She shifted slightly and a soft moan escaped her lips, and it was then that he noticed her hand moving beneath the covers.
“Cammie?” he said, but her eyes remained shut. She was fast asleep, lost in a dream.
A naughty dream, he amended, as he slowly peeled back her covers and sheets to discover her with her nightgown bunched up around her waist and her hand buried between her thighs. She stuck her hand down into her drawers.
A flash of anger hit him, that she would disobey him again so soon, but then he realized she likely couldn’t help herself. He could hardly hold her accountable for something that happened while she slept.
His cock leapt and his balls tightened, his breaths coming short and ragged. He watched her for several moments, unable to speak or look away. Another little moan drifted from her.
“Papa,” she said in a whisper. “Oh, Papa.”
His breath caught in his chest. She was dreaming about him!
He swallowed hard and sat beside her, and waited for her to rouse on her own. The shifting of his weight on the mattress must have disturbed her naughty dreams, because her eyes soon fluttered open and she peered up at him, blinking in confusion. Once the sleep cleared from her gaze, she gave him a small smile.
“Good evening, Papa. Is it still evening?”
“Yes, it’s still evening, Cammie. You only slept for two hours. Of course, it looks like you did more than sleep, little girl,” he said, keeping his visage playful but hardening his voice.
Her brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”
He nodded at her center, where her hand remained stuck down her drawers, though her fingers had stopped stroking.
“Oh no!” She gasped and tore her hand out of her drawers, then arranged her nightdress about her in frantic movements, trying to cover herself. “Papa! I didn’t mean to!” She grabbed for the covers next, but he placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to still.
“Cammie, look at me.”
Worried eyes met his. “Oh, Papa, I am so sorry.”
“Cammie, I want you to be a good girl and lay back. Keep your legs spread.”
She obeyed, though the nervousness didn’t leave her expression. It pleased him that she acquiesced to his demands so quickly, even though she hadn’t meant to break a rule.
He pushed her skirt up and reached for the ties on her drawers, unfastening them and yanking the undergarment down. He tossed her drawers onto the same chair as the pillows and turned back to gaze upon her sweet little cunny. His cock swelled harder, his anticipation over their wedding night growing. He couldn’t wait to kiss every inch of her body and then slowly push his hardness into her tight virgin cunny, breaking her in and making her his wife-in-truth.
She was all smooth and pink, and he noticed a glimmer of moisture peeking out from her slightly parted folds.
“You’re such a good girl for spreading your legs so wide for your papa.”
She flushed. “Th-thank you, Papa. Are yo-you going to spank my kitty now because I was naughty?” She bit her lower lip and peered up at him imploringly.
He cupped her warm mound and lifted an eyebrow at her. “As long as you confess to Papa what you were dreaming about, you will only receive five light smacks. Unless, of course, you prove uncooperative while I administer those five smacks. Little girls who can’t keep their legs spread for their papas get extra punishment. Now, what were you dreaming of?”
“Well, Papa,” she said, her nervous countenance breaking into an intense look of concentration, “I was dreaming about you touching me. Dreaming about you sliding your fingers in and out of my kitty. And, you also kissed me until I could scarcely breathe.”
“I see. Thank you for telling me.” He waited until her gaze returned to his. “Now, remember, you will keep your legs spread wide during your punishment. You don’t want Papa to have to give you extra slaps to your smooth little kitty lips, do you?”
“I’ll hold still, Papa. I don’t want any extras.” She clutched the sheets beneath her and took a deep breath in anticipation of the first smack.
Alexander lifted his hand and brought it down lightly atop her folds, centering the brunt of the slap over her protruding nubbin. She gasped and arched her back, and her legs trembled as she gasped for air. He smacked her again.
“Naughty.” Another slap. “How dare you touch what belongs to your papa? Naughty, naughty, naughty.” He delivered the final three smacks in quick succession, but forced her to keep her legs spread once her punishment was over.
A copious amount of moisture glistened atop her reddened folds. Alexander became dizzy for a moment as all the blood in his body rushed south. Then he swept her up into his arms and carried her into his bedroom.
He had to have her now.
Chapter Eight
Alexander sat Cammie on her feet just long enough to pull her nightdress over her head. He tossed it aside and lifted her up onto his bed, forcing her to lay back and spread her thighs for him yet again. He took a steadying breath and reached for her cunny, delving two fingers into her core, until he met the resistance of her virginal barrier. Keeping his digits submerged, he placed his thumb atop her swollen nub and circled it with increasing pressure.
“Papa!” She jerked against him, gyrating wantonly against his hand.
“How does this compare to your dream, little one?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her.
Their lips met in a tender joining at first, but when she moaned against his mouth, he lost all control and deepened the kiss, taking command and not breaking contact until she squealed. Realizing she needed air, he withdrew and stared down at her, pressing harder on her nubbin as he swirled. Her eyes fluttered shut and she twisted around, so beautifully responsive to his touch.
“This is better than my dream, Papa. Much better,” she whispered.
He stroked her quim for another moment, and with great reluctance, pulled his hand from her center. If he was going to claim her, he had to get his blasted clothing off first. He crawled off the bed and hastily undressed. He shed his trousers and stockings, and then worked open his neckcloth, his gaze intent on his little bride. She watched him with wide eyes that kept trailing to his rigid cock. He tossed his neckcloth and shirt to the floor, his need for her burgeoning to new heights. Once he crawled into bed, they would be skin to skin.
“Papa?” She sounded worried.
“Yes, my love?”
“Is that…is that a penis?” Her eyes went even wider as she stared open mouthed at his erect manhood.
“Yes, little one. It’s also called a cock.” He decided she didn’t need to know any other names for the appendage between his legs, though he could have easily come up with a dozen more slang terms. He preferred to keep her innocent.
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