“Oh stop! Please! Please! Take it out!” she cried, unable to take such torment. Lord Brynwood pressed his hand against her bottom, pressing the ginger even further into her. Abigail screamed and struggled in earnest.
“Why have you been misbehaving, Abigail! Tell me!” Lord Brynwood said, keeping his hand firmly pressed against the root.
Abigail shook her head against the earl’s lap, sobbing in huge heaving gasps. “Please, please,” she begged, feeling such unimaginable burning.
“Tell me, Abigail!” Lord Brynwood urged, pressing harder against the ginger.
Drool fell in chains around Abigail’s mouth as she cried openly against the punishment. Her bottom undulated and wiggled in pain against the merciless ginger.
Lord Brynwood waited another two minutes to allow Abigail to confess. When she said nothing more except to cry and howl in pain, he sighed and removed the root. She gasped at the sensation but sobbed with renewed strength as she still felt the continuing burn. She wondered if this was to be permanent. Was this her punishment? Everlasting burning in her bottom?
Suddenly a cool cloth was pressed against her inflamed anus. She gasped at the coldness of it. Lord Brynwood gently wiped away the burning juices, easing some of the pain. She felt a little calmer when suddenly another dab of coldness was pressed against her bottom, this time in the form of a cream. Lord Brynwood thoroughly applied the soothing salve against her punished bottom.
Abigail sobbed quietly now. Although she had been punished, he was now mending and caring for her afterwards, even after her horrible behavior and rudeness. She looked down and saw the muddy footprints she had left on what was probably a priceless rug. She didn’t think her heart could break any further.
Done cleaning and soothing her poor bottom, Lord Brynwood flipped her around and tucked her into his strong arms, disregarding all the mud that flung from her clothes. Holding her tightly, he looked down at the little girl. “Tell me, little one, what is it that drives you to transgress so?” he asked gently.
Tears gathered at Abigail’s lashes, feeling her lips tremble at his gentleness. She couldn’t crumble yet. She must protect him! She must protect Brynwood Manor and all it housed! He had given her so much already; this was the least she could do for him in return.
“My ankle is all better now,” she said thickly through tears and heartbreak. “You promised I only had to stay till my ankle healed. It is healed now.” Tears flowed freely down her dirty cheeks.
Lord Brynwood looked down at her with a studying expression. He watched her lips quiver and her eyes ache with longing, so at war with the words she spoke. He sighed and pushed her off his lap and towards the corner of the sofa. Abigail uttered a small cry as she realized she had finally succeeded. She had finally pushed Lord Brynwood away.
With long strides, the earl reached his desk and grabbed a few sheets of paper from the top of it. He returned to the sofa and sitting back down, handed them to Abigail. “Read it,” he said calmly.
Abigail didn’t think she could with all the tears blurring her vision but she looked down at the papers and focused. Carefully mouthing each word, she read the first line in a halting voice, “A con...tract of legal...gua...guardian...ship. Guardianship,” she read. Her eyes suddenly widened as the words became clear. A contract of legal guardianship!
She whipped her head up towards the earl, unable to speak. He nodded, taking back the papers. “This is why we were in town the other day. I’ve looked into you, Abigail Hess. No family or relations on record. In orphanages till thirteen years of age. No one has claim on you,” he said. Abigail’s mind flashed an image of Pinzer smiling grotesquely at her.
“So I’ve laid my own,” Lord Brynwood said, eyes piercing her soul. “You are now my legal ward. You are permanently under my care and protection. Abigail, you are mine.”
Abigail could hardly breathe. It was everything she could’ve ever dared to want yet she knew this also spelled not only her doom but the doom of her new legal guardian.
“Bu-but Miss Colette! What will she think of this?” Abigail protested weakly, her heart still fluttering against the warmth of knowing somebody had actually wanted her. Somebody had wanted to keep and protected her. She hoped the memory of that would keep her warm against the coming cold nights.
Lord Brynwood gestured with the papers. “I’ve already written to her. She was most thrilled and encouraging,” Lord Brynwood replied. “Colette Livingston is quite a renowned singer and has been on tour in Paris. But she has pulled her engagement short and is currently on her way back to the manor to meet you, little one. She is most excited to meet the new little girl who will soon become her ward as well.”
Guilt, fear, and heartache poured through Abigail in a warring flood of emotion. Colette was coming back to the manor. She would be just in time to see the ruin of her affianced all at the hands of his new ward. Abigail stared at the legal documents. She was his forever now. He had bound her legally to him just as he had bound her emotionally and physically to him.
Tears fell down her face as she looked up searchingly into the earl’s face. “Oh god,” she whispered.
She was doomed.
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Disciplining the Thief
Part Two
One
“Things are going to change quite a bit around here now that I am legally your guardian,” Lord Brynwood said as he reclined against his enormous leather chair behind his desk. Even with the sunlight cheerily streaming through the windows of the earl’s study, the rays did nothing to diminish the dark power and strength contained within the large and imposing figure of Lord Jeremiah Brynwood.
Abigail stood in the center of the earl’s study, timidly wondering what those words meant for her. It had only been last night when she had been presented with the documents declaring Lord Brynwood her legal guardian and protector. At eighteen years old and a lifelong orphan and pickpocket to boot, it seemed quite absurd for Abigail to have a guardian now. What was the point?
Lord Brynwood lightly slapped the desk as he stood, startling Abigail. “The first thing that will change is this recent rebellion that you’ve been undergoing for some inexplicable reason,” he said, fixing Abigail with a hard stare.
Inexplicable....Abigail had been trying to push every one of Lord Brynwood’s buttons lately to free herself from his care. It broke her heart to try and do so but to stay with him meant his professional doom. An image of Pinzer flashed through her mind. She bit her lip. She couldn’t let that happen to Lord Brynwood, not after all that he had given her.
Watching the emotions play across her face carefully, Lord Brynwood walked around his desk and strode towards Abigail. Grabbing her by her upper arm, he escorted her out of his study and down the hall. He stopped in front of the parlor room that doubled as Abigail’s classroom with Mr. Oglethorpe, her private tutor.
She wondered what Lord Brynwood was doing, escorting her to class. She had been having lessons, albeit unproductive ones due to her behavior, for weeks now and she had been entrusted to attend them herself without any guardian. Lord Brynwood opened the door.
Inside stood Mr. Oglethorpe, harried and already cross looking by the large chalkboard that had been hung up on one wall. In front of the board was a schoolhouse desk and chair, one that Abigail had been using for weeks now. Except, Abigail noticed upon closer inspection, that the back of the chair looked different. She realized that it was now one of those desk sets whereupon the chair and the desk were connected. Curious, she thought. Why would they change her desk now?
Lord Brynwood, still gripping her arm, pulled her into the parlor. Together they walked around towards the front of the new desk. There, Abigail got a good glimpse of another new feature of the desk. Eyes widened and jaw dropped, Abigail gasped as she tried to step back.
But Lord Brynwood easily kept her in place. He gestured towards the new desk. On the seat of the chair was now affixed a large leather penis which stood terrifyingly ere
ct. “This, little one, is a dildo. It will serve two purposes for my new ward. One, it will remind you to behave while under the tutelage of Mr. Oglethorpe. I will hope to hear only good reports from him about your conduct from here on out. Two, this nice large dildo will stretch out that sweet little cunny of yours,” Lord Brynwood explained. He ran his large knuckles against Abigail’s soft cheek.
“Things will be changing now,” he repeated. “Now that you are truly mine to protect and hold, I will make sure that there will be no boundaries between the two of us, physical or otherwise. But to do so, I will have to have that cunny prepared.”
Lord Brynwood pulled Abigail towards the new desk. Reaching underneath her skirts, he yanked down her drawers. Abigail cried out in protest but Lord Brynwood fixed her with a warning glare. “Now lift up your skirts and squat over the dildo,” he ordered.
When Abigail remained standing, frozen in shock, he quickly pinched both nipples through her dress. Each pinch sent an electric jolt of pain and pleasure straight down to her nether lips. Abigail jerked and stifled a moan as the intensity of the sensation startled her.
Lord Brynwood reached down and parted her soft pussy lips with his large fingers. Finding the telltale moistness, he murmured in approval. “Good, good. It looks like my little one is ready then,” he said, rucking up Abigail’s skirts into her arms.
With great reluctance, Abigail stood over the seat and lowered herself into a squatting position. Feeling completely shamed and humiliated, she hardly raised her head towards Mr. Oglethorpe who was no doubt enjoying her predicament. Lord Brynwood pulled one of her hands down to grasp the dildo. “Guide it in to that wet cunny of yours,” he ordered softly.
Abigail’s small hand grasped the large leather dildo, her fingers hardly able to go around the entire base. Unable to help herself, she quickly shot a look towards Mr. Oglethorpe. Seeing his jowly face smug with satisfaction only made tears spring to her eyes in humiliation. “Please sir,” Abigail whispered. “I promise to start behaving. I swear it!”
Lord Brynwood’s focus remained on the dildo as he said quite impatiently, “Little ones are incapable of promises. It is up to their betters to make sure that they behave properly and appropriately. I had remained a goodly distance from educating you properly since I had no legal claim over you. But now as your guardian, I refuse to have a little hellion running around this manor, disgracing herself and my name. Now sit.”
Hot tears slipped down her cheeks as Abigail realized she had no other choice but to do as he ordered. Slowly she began lowering herself. When she felt the bulbous leather tip, she gave an involuntary little cry as she pushed past it and lowered herself completely, seating the leather phallus deep into her body.
With such a large object inside of her, Abigail was unable to sit properly on the chair. Her legs were splayed widely apart and her chest pushed forward a bit. Lord Brynwood gathered her bunched skirts and pulled them tight against her body, displaying the explicit naked invasion of her nether lips to Mr. Oglethorpe. Grabbing a large metal clamp, Lord Brynwood clipped her skirts against her back so that Abigail would have no way to hide her shame.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Oglethorpe. I will have a new wardrobe sent out for for Abigail that will allow for easier set up than what we have contrived today,” Lord Brynwood promised the tutor. With a final quelling glance at Abigail’s teary-eyed form, he strode out of the room, leaving her with a final reminder of his expectations of a good report today.
Abigail gaped after the earl’s departure. But Mr. Oglethorpe wanted to waste no time with this new method of behavior control. He quickly shut the parlor door and walked back towards the chalkboard, a satisfied grin upon his aged face.
Seeing that she had indeed been left alone with a large dildo up her pussy, Abigail began to cry in earnest. “I promise to be good, Mr. Oglethorpe! I promise!” Abigail cried desperately.
Mr. Oglethorpe laughed, clearly enjoying his student’s discomfort. “Oh ho! And am I to forget the books you tried to burn yesterday or the slate you threw against the wall? What about the second composition book I gave you to which you systematically ripped the pages out of?” Mr. Oglethorpe shook his head. “No, I quite agree with his lordship’s new method. I have high hopes for it.”
Abigail shook her own head in miserable desperation. She had only been acting out recently to infuriate the earl. She had thought that if she could frustrate him beyond control, he would only be too delighted to turn her out of the manor. But it had backfired. Instead, the earl had only grown more determined to teach her a lesson in proper submission and manners. And with the stiff dildo seated so deeply into her, she realized the lesson was far from over.
“Now before, we start our first lesson of the day, I’d like to make sure we have a good fitting of the new seat for you. I would like you to rise up and ride the dildo a few strokes, Abigail,” Mr. Oglethorpe said, his small blue eyes gleaming with intent.
Abigail shook her head. “Please, sir. I can’t, I can’t,” she cried, tears falling freely down her cheeks. She had never felt so stretched before. Her cunny seemed to strain to accommodate the largeness within her.
Mr. Oglethorpe shrugged casually. “If that is the case, I can always run and fetch his lordship. Perhaps he will find the dildo to be too small for his little one. I think he had mentioned purchasing a whole case of training dildos ranging a wide gamut of sizes....” Mr. Oglethorpe trailed off, intentionally hitting a tone of ominous fright.
Abigail’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “Please, don’t!” she begged. And with a deep breath of desperation, Abigail slowly rose off the dildo, using her desk for leverage. She stood till only the tip was in her.
“Now come down,” Mr. Oglethorpe murmured, his eyes bright with enjoyment.
Abigail gritted her teeth and lowered herself down onto the thick phallus, feeling her cunny stretch just as much as it had the first time.
“Again,” Mr. Oglethorpe ordered.
Groaning in misery, Abigail rose once more before lowering herself onto the invading object. Upon Mr. Oglethorpe’s orders, she slowly began riding the dildo, rising up and down upon the unforgiving leather.
As she felt each plunge of the thick shaft, Abigail began to feel a warm ball of heat bloom deep within her. Each stroke of the dildo began to awaken a line of new nerves that only intensified the heat within her. She began breathing more rapidly as she tried to pick up her pace to match the growing urge within her.
Soon, she felt herself rising towards an immense precipice of pleasure. She could feel that she was only a stroke or two away from falling into the welcoming abyss. Forgetting the classroom or Mr. Oglethorpe or the earl, Abigail closed her eyes and rode the dildo faster and faster. She felt herself climbing towards the peak. She was near. Just one more deep plunge and she knew she would explode in a cloud of pleasure. Abigail moaned as she seated the dildo in once more. She was close. She felt it right around the corner. Rising up once more would probably be enough stimulation to push her over the edge.
With anticipation, Abigail leaned against the desk to prepare herself.
“Stop,” Mr. Oglethorpe ordered, his voice cutting through her pleasurable haze. “Stay seated.”
Abigail opened her eyes. A smile was twisting across Mr. Oglethorpe’s face. She could feel her pussy pulse in need. She just needed one more stroke. She could feel it. “Please, sir. If I may....” she whispered, unable to say aloud what she really needed.
Mr. Oglethorpe shook his head as he picked up a piece of chalk. “No. Stay seated. I see that we have a good fitting. We will begin our lesson now.” And with that, he began lecturing on French grammar.
Abigail sat gape mouthed as she hardly listened to what the tutor was saying. Wetness was pooling beneath her. Her pussy had never been so heated in need. How could she stop now? Perhaps, with him now turned towards the chalkboard, she could squeeze in one more delicious riding plunge to allow her release. But as Abigail made to rise again, Mr. Ogl
ethorpe’s rotund body whipped around in rebuke. “Did I not say to stay seated!” Mr. Oglethorpe cried angrily. Grabbing a ruler off of his desk, he quickly strode towards Abigail. “Hands!” he ordered. Sniffing back the tears that were already threatening to fall, Abigail presented her small hands, palm up, towards the tutor. With a high swing, Mr. Oglethorpe pulled down the ruler in a merciless slap across both her palms.
Abigail howled in pain as the ruler seared across her hands. Until her lessons with Mr. Oglethorpe, she had never known how sensitive the palms of her hands were. If given the choice, she would much rather take a ruler to her bottom than to her hands.
Seeing that his student was properly chastised, Mr. Oglethorpe returned to his lecture. And that was how the afternoon of lessons was spent. After each subject, Mr. Oglethorpe would have Abigail ride the dildo to the peak of satisfaction. And each time, he would stop her just short of release, leaving her frustrated and needy.
When Mr. Oglethorpe has finished his last lesson, Lord Brynwood reappeared. As he entered the classroom, he took in the completely exhausted sight of his charge. Abigail’s cheeks were flushed with need and desperation while her body slumped forward from pure physical depletion. “I see the new desk has been a success,” he remarked, a wry note of amusement clear in his voice.
“Oh yes, milord! Yes! She was wonderfully submissive and quiet during our lesson,” Mr. Oglethorpe reported, beaming with satisfaction.
Lord Brynwood nodded in approval. He noticed the wetness that had pooled between Abigail’s thighs. What a responsive little one she was! He was delighted to see she had taken so well to the training dildo. He wanted her nice and stretched before he himself took a taste of that sweet cunny.
“Well, with such a good report, little one, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward,” Lord Brynwood said. Gesturing with his chin towards the desk, he ordered, “Ride it.”
Disciplining The Thief - Complete Series (Historical Victorian Forbidden First Time Steamy Romance) Page 5