by Sue Lyndon
Continuing his grip on her arm, Papa signaled Priscilla with his other hand and the shopgirl immediately responded, having quickly fixed the display of gloves. “Yes, my lord. How may I help you?”
“Thank you for cleaning up the gloves. Now, I have some business to attend to with Mrs. Stilton,” he said. “I would appreciate it if you would make certain my wife does not move from this spot. Not one inch.”
Shamed, Cammie stared at the floor, embarrassment flaming her cheeks.
“Y-yes, my lord,” Priscilla said. “I will.”
“See that you do.” Papa turned sharply on his heel and left the two of them alone.
A single tear fell from Cammie’s eye and dripped upon the floor. A worn handkerchief appeared in her line of sight. “Thank you,” she whispered, dabbing at her eye.
“Do not feel badly,” Priscilla said. “You are not the first woman whose husband has chastised her over something that happened here. You should have seen the row last week when a new bride told her husband to mind his business. He took her outside, leaned her over the hitching post and spanked her bottom. Right there. In broad daylight.”
Priscilla’s tale distracted Cammie sufficiently from her own misery and she looked up at her new friend. “Even I know better than to do something like that.”
The two girls giggled softly for a moment.
“Was that the delivery man you told me about?” Cammie asked.
Priscilla blushed. “Yes. His name is Robert.”
Cammie’s pulse pounded in her ears, but she forced herself to remain calm. “How often does he make deliveries here?”
“He told me he would return at this time on Friday,” Priscilla said, a smile spreading across her mouth.
Friday. Just three days away.
Chapter Eleven
Alexander poured himself a glass of sherry from the decanter on the desk in his library and reflected on events of the day.
The morning had not gone as he had planned. He had awoken with high expectations of the morning. First, to take his dear wife, Cammie, shopping for some new hats and other accessories at the shop run by Mrs. Stilton. He also intended to purchase some items from the back room of Mrs. Stilton’s store, an area known only to a small group of patrons. Mrs. Stilton was a woman wise in business as well as the ways of the world and she supplemented her income substantially with those items which she carried in the back room, the key to which was closely guarded by Mrs. Stilton.
Rather than the pleasure of seeing his young bride’s face light up with the new hats that he purchased for her followed by a surprise stop at the ice cream store as a special treat since she had told him she had never tried the fashionable dessert, instead they had ridden home with an awkward silence hanging between them for the first time in their marriage. When he had returned from his trip to the back room with Mrs. Stilton, he was pleased, somewhat, to find that Cammie had obediently stayed with the shop girl. At least she had not turned into a completely undisciplined wife. But, rather than continuing their appointment to try on hats, he had made their apologies to Mrs. Stilton and escorted his surprised wife out of the store and back into the carriage without making a purchase other than the one which he had made himself from the back room.
His plan had originally also included a trip to a conservatory for a concert that afternoon. Cammie was particularly fond of music and he wished to lavish her with delights for her body and soul.
Instead his wife was now bent over the edge of the sofa in his library naked, holding her bottom cheeks apart exposing her little rosebud for his view and punishment.
“Oh, Papa,” Cammie said, her face pressed against the fabric of the arm of the sofa. “I am so very sorry that I did not obey you and wait where you wanted me to stay while we were at Mrs. Stilton’s shop.”
“If you knew what you were supposed to do, my dear, then why did you disobey?”
“I-I do not know, Papa,” she wailed in misery and his heart squeezed with emotion for his misbehaving but still adorable bride.
However, he could not allow his emotions to soften his resolve. She had behaved badly and failed to follow a simple request. He had not been away from her for more than a few minutes. Why did she not comply?
He was particularly disappointed in her failure to disclose her reasoning. Though not a man who tolerated excuses, he was always willing to listen to some reasonable explanation for his wife’s, or anyone else’s, misdeeds. When she offered none, he found it rather confusing and surprising. It was uncharacteristic of Cammie to not offer some sort of an excuse or justification for her behavior, particularly if she thought it might get her out of a punishment. In their time together, he had learned though she was often stubborn and uncooperative, she was never dishonest. What troubled him now was the fact that his gut told him there was more to her misbehavior than met the eye and yet she seemed unwilling to tell him what that was.
Frankly, it hurt to think she might be withholding something from him. Had he not spent the past week showering her with affection and reassurances of his devotion to her?
He finished his drink and set it upon the desk. Rolling back his sleeves, it was time for punishment to begin.
“I noticed you did not ask about the parcel which I purchased from Mrs. Stilton. Are you not curious?”
“Yes, Papa, I am curious.” Cammie’s voice was soft and distant as she spoke against the sofa’s arm. “But I was already in so much trouble I felt I should not ask any questions and to wait patiently because you would tell me when it was appropriate.”
“Oh, so now you are willing to wait patiently?”
“I am sorry, Papa.” Her sniffles made his heart squeeze again, but he had a task to complete.
“Well, let me show you what I purchased.” He unwrapped the brown paper and opened up the box which contained a series of butt plugs which he had ordered to train the little pucker of his new wife. He had already been exploring her tight bottom hole with his fingers and looked forward to the day when he would plunder her there with his cock. However her training needed to commence immediately in order for that to happen.
He placed the smallest of the plugs in the palm of his hand, walked over to his wife and held it in front of her face so she could see. “This, my dear wife, is a training plug which I am going to insert into your bottom hole.” Her face blanched and her eyes grew wide as she turned to look at him then glanced back at the piece in his hand and back up at him.
“Papa, it’s so big.” Her brows knitted together and her bottom lip quivered.
“Camellia, I am losing patience with you. Has not the issue between us all day been your lack of trust in my judgment? I instructed you to stay in your seat at Mrs. Stilton’s and you did not. You made a decision that you knew better and you wandered around the shop by yourself. What is worse, you disrespected my wishes.”
“I know I did, Papa, and I apologize. I’m so very, very sorry for not heeding your instructions, but…” And then she clamped her mouth shut and said no more. He had no idea what could have transpired in those few minutes that she was alone with the shopgirl at Mrs. Stilton’s. Nothing was broken or missing, no injuries. She simply was not where she had been told to remain. Her determination to keep her reasons to herself troubled him most.
It seemed the purchase of butt plugs could not have happened at a more opportune time.
He took the few steps back to where his wife had her butt angled over the arm of the sofa, both of her hands dug deep into the cheeks of her bottom and holding it open for his inspection. “You have such a pretty bunghole, Cammie. Did you know that?”
“Oh, Papa! Please, it is too shameful to discuss such things.”
* * *
Cammie had never heard of a butt plug, though its meaning seemed pretty self-evident to her. Which meant that soon her little bottom was going to be filled with the object which Papa had held in his palm.
She had been shocked to find out that Mrs. Stilton sold naughty items in h
Just thinking about her new acquaintance reminded Cammie of her brother, Robert, and the fact that, in just three days, she had to figure out a way to get herself back to the hat shop in order to meet up with him.
She knew that her papa wanted an explanation from her for why she left her seat, but she simply did not dare to tell him. She hated keeping a secret from Papa, but she hated even more the idea of what his reaction might be to finding out that her brother was nearby. Would Papa tell her she couldn’t see Robert? That she was his wife and could not be associating with delivery boys and shopgirls?
Oh, her thoughts perked up. If Robert and Priscilla married, she would get a sister. What a happy notion.
Would Robert be pleased to see her? Or was he glad to have been rid of her for all this time so that he could go on with his own life? Was he happy? Did he have enough to eat and a roof over his head? She was glad to know he had a job and even happier that there seemed to be someone in his life who cared about him. But she still had her doubts about how Papa would feel at the prospect of welcoming members of Cammie’s lowborn family into Ashton Manor.
She hated that she had disappointed Papa and she hated even more that she was about to get her bottom punished with a butt plug. She pressed her face against the fabric of the sofa and continued to hold her bottom cheeks apart in the shameful way Papa had instructed her to.
She could feel Papa’s breath as he leaned down to inspect her private hole. ‘Twas shameful to have him so close to her naughty parts but she knew this was just the beginning. She squirmed as cool liquid slid down the crack between her cheeks. Next she felt the pressure of the hard plug tapping against her bottom hole.
“Relax, Cammie.” Papa’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “It will go in if you’ll just relax and loosen up the muscles here in your bunghole.”
“Oh, Papa. I am so sorry. A million times sorry. Must we do this?” She did not know when she had ever felt so miserable.
“If it makes you feel any better, Cammie, I had planned to purchase the plugs on our trip to the shop today. The only difference is that I intend to use them now to prove a point about obedience. The same point I intended to make when we left the shop without any hats at all. Hats are for good girls who behave themselves when they go shopping. Butt plugs are for naughty girls who disobey. Which girl were you today, Cammie?”
“I-I was a naughty girl, Papa.” She sniffled into the sofa.
“You most certainly were. Now keep your cheeks spread wide apart while I finish. Just a little further and this plug will be snug in your pucker.”
Cammie did her best to relax, just as she had done the times when Papa had probed her bottom hole with his fingers. She took a deep breath and willed the ring of muscles at the opening of her hole to loosen up so Papa could press the plug further into her. With a little bit of concentration, she managed to relax and she felt the hard object breach the opening to her bottom and work its way past that tight ring of muscles.
Despite the humiliating circumstances, a soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips. She truly was the worst sort of trollop to enjoy such activities. It made her all the more convinced that her mother must have been a prostitute. She wondered if she would be able to ask Robert about that when she saw him on Friday. Or perhaps it was not the type of question she ought to ask first thing.
Papa continued to work the plug in and out and round and round making sure it was properly seated in her bottom. Cammie suspected he enjoyed watching her squirm as he maneuvered the intruder around her bottom.
“Good girl, Cammie,” Papa said. “You may put your hands down. You did an excellent job of keeping your bottom cheeks open for Papa.”
He gave her bottom three quick swats on each cheek, which caused her to contract her muscles and clench the plug even tighter inside her bottom hole.
“The plug is not always meant as punishment, Cammie. I plan for you to enjoy having my cock deep inside your bottom, when the time comes.” He gave the plug a tap and gentle twist and despite her misery at being punished and disappointing Papa, a wave of desire moved through Cammie and she rubbed her lady parts against the arm of the sofa.
“Today, however, the plug will serve a dual purpose of training your hole and reminding you who you belong to, who is the master of your body.”
“You are, Papa.” Her heart ached with love for him, even though her current situation filled her with shame and dread. Her papa wanted to take care of her and she wanted to give him herself, body and soul.
She really ought to tell him about Robert. Resolved, she opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut when Papa took hold of her hand and pulled it down to her bottom and placed her fingers over the plug in her bum. “Do you feel that, Cammie? I put a plug in your back hole because it is mine, mine to do with as I please. Is that correct?”
Shame filled but fascinated, Cammie’s fingertips stroked around the end of the plug. “Y-yes, Papa.” Her fingers lingered on the very end of the plug, where it felt as though it was engraved.
Papa, observing her closely, of course, noticed. “Those are my initials, Cammie. My mark of ownership. Lest you forget that you belong to me.”
Chapter Twelve
Cammie stood outside Mrs. Stilton’s millinery shop, her heart pounding, her face flush with exhilaration. She had managed, somehow, to make it on foot from Ashton Manor all the way to Mrs. Stilton’s shop only having to ask directions once. She could not believe her good fortune that day, luck had certainly been on her side and she hoped it meant the rest of her plan would go well so that she could speak with Robert and still make it back to Ashton Manor before anyone, particularly Papa, noticed she was missing.
She had woken full of excitement and trepidation. It was Friday, the day she would be able to meet up with Robert, her long lost brother, at Mrs. Stilton’s hat shop—if only she could get there in time. She still had not told her papa about her brother. She screwed up her courage thinking she would have to tell Papa the truth in order to persuade him to take her to the hat shop, unless she could convince him to take her to the millinery shop without disclosing the real purpose of her mission there.
Eventually Papa would have to find out. She could not leave the shop again or wander in the alley chatting with a delivery man without Papa finding out and he would not be pleased.
However, serendipity had shown upon Cammie that morning when she had been standing upon the dressing stool while Papa put the finishing touches on her morning apparel. It was a pretty yellow dress which she had long admired while it was hanging in her closet. But she had not had the nerve to ask Papa for permission to wear it since he took such pleasure in selecting her clothing for her each day himself.
Though she was excited to think she would look her very best when she got to finally see her brother after all these years, anxiety roiled through her tummy. Would Robert be angry? Would he recognize her? Would he be pleased to see her or worst of all—what if she was wrong and it was not her brother and she simply made a fool of herself, and risked Papa’s ire, all for nothing?
“Papa,” she had said hesitantly. “I have been a very good girl for the last three days, have I not?” Of course, she meant the time since the wretched incident the last time they were at Mrs. Stilton’s shop and she prayed Papa would not bring that up again.
“As a matter of fact, Cammie, you have. I’m very proud of you. You have done an outstanding job with your bottom hole training and I am very proud of you. I also think you’ve learned your lesson from the trouble at the millinery shop earlier this week, do you not agree?”
A weight lifted from Cammie’s shoulders. “Yes, Papa. And that is what I wish to discuss with you.” She wrung her hands together and screwed up her courage. “Do you think, Papa, that perhaps today, if I promise to be a very, very good girl, we could return to Mrs. Stilton’s hat shop?”
Papa looked at her and paused. She held her breath and her heart pounded in her chest. “As a matter of fact, my dear, I think that is a lovely idea. You have been a very good girl and I do not want you to think that I hold a grudge. As I’ve told you many times, once your punishment is complete, the deed is forgotten and you have earned yourself another trip to see the wares at Mrs. Stilton’s shop.”
A huge smile of relief flashed across Cammie’s face and she practically jumped up and down on the stool. “Oh, Papa, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said. “I promise that I will be a very, very good girl while we are gone.”
“I have no doubts, little Cammie. Now, shall we go to breakfast? You will need your strength if you are to go shopping.”
Papa assisted Cammie down from the dressing stool by wrapping his large hands around her waist, lifting her in the air and swinging her around the room before setting her feet upon the floor. “Papa,” she said, “You are in a happy mood today.”
“I am. I’m going to take my wife shopping.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and escorted her to the breakfast room.
Over breakfast Cammie laid her plan for how she would sneak away or get a message to Robert. Perhaps she would simply write a note and ask Priscilla to give it to him. That would be the easiest way and Papa would be less likely to find out. Plus, it would be a good back up plan in case she and Robert were not there at the same time. She could not keep asking Papa to take her hat shopping. She just had to hope Robert would get her message and get in touch with her. She congratulated herself on a wise course of action that would achieve her goal and also, hopefully, protect her bottom.
However, her plan changed again when the butler entered the breakfast room. “Pardon me, Lord Cavendish,” he said. “But an express has just arrived for you and it appears it is quite urgent. I’m sorry to disturb your breakfast, but I assumed you would like to see this right away.”
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