by Lucy Wild
“All done,” she said, pulling her mouth from the bottle.
“Good girl,” he managed to say, not trusting himself to speak further as her movements continued.
“You are not angry with me?” she asked, batting her eyelids up at him. “Not cross with your little Beth?”
“Not at all,” he replied, his hand moving to her leg, settling on it and remaining in place whilst she turned away from him, her legs dangling down towards the floor.
His hand moved of its own accord, sliding up her thigh. He breathed in deeply through his nose, catching the scent of her, a sweetness that intoxicated his senses, making all thoughts of discipline vanish as if they had never been.
She pressed her buttocks against his painfully hard member and as she did so, he leaned down until his lips brushed the back of her neck. She sighed happily as he kissed her there, his mouth moving gradually up towards her ear. He could hear her breathing, steadily though it grew more laboured as his hand slid to the very top of her thigh, the heat of her core radiating towards his fingers through her nappy.
Her legs widened as he slid both hands to her chest, feeling her nipples through the fabric of her frock, groping and squeezing the flesh of her womanhood, his lips continuing to work their way around her ear and neck. He tugged at her nipples enough to make her gasp before sliding his hands back down her body, reaching the knots of the nappy and pulling them loose.
The cloth folded downwards towards his lap, allowing his hands free rein to slide up her thighs once more, this time finding their way ever so slowly towards her core. He brushed his fingers over the soft folds between her legs as she let out a quiet moan. She was coated in wetness and his hands moved easily into every inch of her outer lips, teasing her by ignoring the part she so clearly wanted him to touch. She shifted her hips to try and make him enter her, but instead, he moved back up to her chest, nibbling her neck as he did so.
When she reached down to his trousers, he was about to tell her to stop, to tell her that he was in charge, but then her hand was on the buttons of his fly and he could say no words at all. The coldness of her fingers reaching in and gripping his shaft sent his mind spiralling into new heights of desire. She brought his member out through his fly, moving it between her legs. He knew he shouldn’t enter her, he mustn’t enter her but it was so difficult to ignore the heat and wetness that were coating his shaft.
He grabbed her suddenly and she yelped as he lifted her to her feet. She stood looking at him with a hurt expression on her face, the nappy sliding to the floor at her feet. “Why did you stop?” she asked.
“Go to your room and kneel down facing the door.”
She pouted but did not complain, turning and walking from the dining room. He waited until she was gone before pushing his member back into his trousers, muttering to himself as he did so. “What are you doing? You know this is wrong, you know you will only end up hurting her and yourself. This is about the wager; it is not about lust. You are stronger than this.”
Even as he said the words, he was already standing up and walking out of the room. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He knew that what he should do was go up and tell her to stop teasing him, spank her for doing so in fact, show her who was in charge. But he knew that if he were to bend her over to spank her, he would be inside her a second later. She had done something to him, she had buried herself in his mind and he found himself unable to think of anything but taking her.
Stop it, he thought. Go up and there and tell her this has to stop. She is to submit to you, nothing else. If you were going to marry her, this might not be so wrong but you are throwing her out in less than a week. You couldn’t marry a pauper anyway, think of the scandal. He began to climb the stairs, determined that he would reassert his authority, prove he had been telling the truth when he’d first told her he had no interest in anything of a carnal nature that might involve her.
Stopping outside the nursery door, he took several deep breaths, waiting for the stiffness of his member to subside. Only when he was certain he was in control of himself did he push open the door and step inside, finding her knelt on the floor facing him, her hands clasped behind her back. The door swung slowly closed behind him, shutting out the world and leaving the two of them alone together.
Chapter 17
When Lizzie heard Sir Doyle’s footsteps on the landing outside the nursery, her heart began to thump in her chest, each beat ringing in her ears as if someone were banging a drum across the room. She had wondered as she knelt ready for him whether he would leave her for hours, as he had after her first spanking. But instead, she had barely set herself in position before he arrived, pushing open the door and staring down at her, a hunger in his eyes that was completely unmistakable.
Lizzie felt hungry too, hungry for him. It was no longer enough to just think about him whilst he was away. She wanted to look at him, to drink in that chiselled jaw of his, the furrow of his brow, the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her. No longer was he the furious disciplinarian of the previous day, he was instead a man looking at her the way she felt about him, as if there could be nothing worse than being apart for another second.
It was so different to yesterday. He had sent her such mixed signals, she had been unable to stop herself from crying, breaking into fresh tears throughout the evening whenever she thought about him. Why could the brain not protect itself? Why did it make you think of the one person who would make you cry, make your stomach twist into knots, make every fibre of your being wish you’d never made them?
She had left him when he had made her go, but he had not left her, not really. He had remained in her head long after she had closed the nursery door and sank to the floor to wish things were different, to wish he hadn’t sent her away. She had done exactly as he asked, ignoring her shame to walk to the bathroom wearing only a nappy and dummy. She’d even tied her hair in bunches in an effort to be his perfect little Beth. And what had he done in return? Bade her to lock herself away like a mad wife in an attic, out of sight and out of mind.
She could not stop thinking about him, about the way he had shaved her. She only had to slide her hand down over her stomach to find the proof that he had done it, he had removed the last of her clothing, the last thing that shielded her modesty from his gaze. Not only that, but he had played with the most sinful parts of her, dipping that finger of his into the tiniest and tightest part of her, the part that still stung in memory of what he’d done.
She’d spent the evening alternately crying and wishing she had never met him. Never had she known such pain as being teased towards her first ever orgasm and then tossed aside as if she disgusted him so much he could no longer bear to look at her.
Her sleep was fitful. Above her cot the scripture in its frame cast a frown down upon her when she lay down to try and sleep that night. O satisfy us early with thy mercy. The very words mocked and judged her in equal measure. For it was not mercy she desired, no, it was something quite different. Satisfaction would not come to her unless he did. She wanted so badly to touch herself, her hand sliding back and forth over the bare skin he had so recently shaved. She squeezed her thighs together, wanting to remove her nappy. Her core ached with the need to be touched, but she refused to give in to her desires. She could not disobey him anymore. It was a simple fact. No matter how much she wanted to ease the itch deep inside her, she wanted to please him more. It was a long time before she slept.
She had awoken to find James standing over her, a nappy draped over his arm. “You are to lay down and allow me to tie this in place,” he said, lifting her out of the cot, setting her down on her feet a moment later. She laid down for him whilst still yawning, her arms across her chest to protect her modesty as best she could. She blushed as he opened her legs to tie the nappy but his expression never changed, a stern coldness that seemed completely indifferent to the sight of her core. She stood up once he was done, stepping into the dress he gave her before slipping on her knee high socks. “Is Sir Doyle
cross with me?” she asked as James crossed to the door.
“I couldn’t say, Miss,” he replied. “Though he expects you to be waiting in the dining room when he arrives for breakfast.”
Lizzie brushed her hair before leaving the room, the thick cloth between her legs rubbing slightly as she descended to the entrance hall. She found the dining room empty but as she entered, James emerged from a side room, the two of them waiting in silence for Sir Doyle to appear.
And what an appearance it had been. He had walked in and given her a half smile, her heart melting as he crossed the room to his chair. When she was allowed to sit on his lap, she could not contain her happiness, wriggling in place as she realised the hardness she could feel under her was his member, rigid and seeking her out as if hungry for her. She rubbed herself against it and was rewarded by his breathing becoming heavy. His touch had been magical upon her but then he had sent her away and there she knelt, on the floor of the nursery, looking up at his hungry eyes, making her desperate to do anything to please him. Whatever he asked of her, she would do, she could think of nothing but obeying him no matter what he wanted, no matter what it was he demanded, she would obey, anything to ease the pain inside her that gnawed at her self-esteem, telling her she was not worthy of the attention of such a man.
“Do you know how sinful it was to tease me downstairs?” he asked, standing in front of her, casting a shadow over her as she looked back up at him.
“It did not feel sinful,” she replied, wondering why he sounded angry again.
“Nonetheless, it was. I told you I was in charge of you but you seem to have forgotten that.”
“I haven’t. I swear I haven’t.”
“I am your master while you are in this house and you are my little Beth. What should you do?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You should obey me!” he snapped, pointing a finger at her. “I tell you what to do and you do it.”
“I will, I promise I will.”
“We’ll see. Open your mouth.”
She did it immediately.
“Wider. That’s better. Now do not move a muscle until I tell you to. Not a muscle.”
She waited, her jaw beginning to ache as he looked down at her, pulling out his pocket watch and examining it. “You are to remain like that for one minute. Let’s see how good you are at obeying me.”
He left his pocket watch dangling from its chain as he reached down to his trousers, undoing the button at his hips, sliding them down to his feet, revealing everything that had been hidden within.
Lizzie stared in awe at the sight as he kicked his trousers off his ankles. His member was so big, it drew her eyes to it. But his legs too, they were so muscular, they looked as if they would crush her if she were wrapped up in them. She couldn’t stop glancing at his member, the way it twitched in the air though he did not touch it. Indeed, he acted as if he were still perfectly respectably dressed.
“Thirty seconds,” he said, taking a step towards her. “Keep still.”
She glanced down at his member as it loomed towards her. He took hold of it at the base, sliding his hand up to the tip and then down again. He moved his hips forwards and then she blinked in shock. The tip of him had just brushed over her lips. She barely had time to register what he’d done before he suddenly took hold of her head, gripping her hair and thrusting his member into her mouth.
Almost at once, she felt as if she were choking. He completely filled her mouth with his length and he wasn’t even all the way in. She gagged slightly but could not move away, the strength of his hands prevented her from moving at all. She could only kneel for him, feeling his heat on her tongue, the firm flesh filling her mouth completely as he looked down at her, the hunger in his eyes growing more dangerous.
“Good girl,” he said. “Now I’m going to fuck your mouth and you can’t do anything about it.”
She didn’t want to do anything about it. Though his use of such coarse language shocked her, she could think of no better way to describe what he was doing. By telling her that though, it took away her need to feel ashamed of it. She had not instigated this, she had not asked for it. All she had to do was keep breathing as best she could, not an easy task as he slid back out of her mouth and then drove into her again, further this time, making her throat sore as he began to slam back and forth into her mouth, groaning loudly above her.
She could feel saliva running down her chin. She wanted to wipe it away but did not dare to move as it started to drip down onto her frock. Her knees hurt from remaining so long in one position but not as much as her throat hurt from his repeated thrusts forward past her lips, his hips grinding against her face.
She wanted to move her tongue as well, taste the tip of him, use her mouth to please him, but it was not to be. He was using her, he was fucking her mouth, there was no other way to describe it.
He buried himself in her mouth for so long, her lungs began to burn but then he pulled free, leaving her gasping for air. “Keep still,” he said, taking hold of his shaft in his hand. It glistened with her saliva as he ran his hand up and down his member, rubbing it ever faster, all the while staring into her eyes as she looked back up at him.
“Keep your mouth open,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Oh damn it, here it comes.”
She moved her eyes down just in time to see his member twitch in his hand and then from the end of it, seed shot through the air, landing on her tongue. There was no aim to his orgasm, the hot white fluid splashing onto her cheeks, running down her chin, the largest portion sitting on her tongue as her mouth remained open for him.
He groaned as the last drops fell from him, leaning forwards to ensure every drop hit her. Only when he seemed sure no more was to emerge, did he step back, looking down at her with a smile on his lips. “You are mine now,” he said. “I have marked you as mine. Do not wipe that away. It is proof you are mine.”
He turned away and picked up his trousers before turning back. “You may swallow,” he said, watching as she did so.
The taste of it was salty and warm, nowhere near as unpleasant as she had expected. She had made him come. A deep sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside her as she watched him dress. She had made him do that. Whilst she was thinking, her hand moved to her mouth, wiping away a rivulet of his seed that was about to fall from her chin. She realised what she was doing too late, her arm still hanging in the air as he grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. “I told you not to move!” he yelled, twisting her round and shoving her away from him. “Bend over that cot and by the devil, you will be disciplined for ignoring my command.”
Chapter 18
Charles watched in furious silence as Little Beth took hold of the bars of the cot, bending forwards to expose her posterior, her frock riding up her hips. The sight of her pale legs lessened his anger, the way they shook slightly whilst he marched across to stand behind her.
He had just broken every rule that was set down in the journals he had read. It was made abundantly clear that you should not cross the line between dominating a little, and taking advantage of them. And was that not what he had just done? She had knelt down because he had told her to, she had opened her mouth for the same reason. It was all due to him. Was that why he was so angry? Not because she had disobeyed him, but because she had bewitched him, prevented him from thinking rationally, from doing things the way they were supposed to be done? He had not intended to climax in that manner, he’d never before marked a woman in that way. But in the moment, it felt like the only thing to do, a way to cement his power over her whilst simultaneously proving her submission to him.
Perhaps the journals will need rewriting, he thought as he stood staring at her pert bottom, her hips pointing expectantly towards him. “You will not move until I am done,” he said, raising his hand and bringing it slapping down on her behind. She let out a gasp as the smacking sound reached his ears a moment later, his hand felt warm. Looking down, he could see a red mark from whe
re he’d spanked her. Shifting his feet slightly, he brought his hand down again, this time lower, nearer to her thighs. She yelped and when he struck her lower still, on the very top of her left leg, she began to cry.
He moved his body, landing several smacks on her right buttock, continuing to strike her until his arm ached and there was not an inch of her posterior that was not reddened. Throughout it all, she cried out, though she obeyed him, remaining in place. Whenever he paused to stroke her burning hot behind, she held her breath, only exhaling once he recommenced his punishment of her.
With a final smack across her buttocks, he stepped back, admiring his handiwork. It was so red, it almost glowed. He couldn’t resist touching her again. Moving closer, he laid his palm on her bottom, sliding it between her buttocks, groping his way down to her thighs, nudging her legs apart with his knee. He leaned over her back, listening to her breathing as her sobs came to an end, replaced by heavy breathing that grew more laboured the closer his hand moved to her core.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, not anymore. She was not going to move unless he permitted it. Knowing the truth of that fact filled him with a sense of power. She would do anything for him now. He slid his fingers towards her core and just as he brushed over her clit, he raced away, finding her bottom, easing his little finger around her puckered hole, listening to the change in her breathing, watching closely as her body moved beneath him.
He knelt down a moment later, breathing in the scent of her sweetness, examining her closely. “Reach back and spread your buttocks apart,” he said, watching as she obeyed him instantly.
From his position behind her, he could closely see the most intimate parts of her. Leaning forwards, he stuck out his tongue and licked down the length of her bottom, dipping the tip of his tongue into her behind before pulling away. She gasped loudly but did not let go of her bottom, continuing to spread herself for his inspection.