Instead, she thought about what the team would say when they saw her kneeling there. She thought about how she must look, but oddly, she did prefer this. There were strong feelings that went with the kneeling that she hadn't really expected. A rightness to it that made it more than just a convenient pose to wait in. Was this what being submissive felt like? This vulnerable feeling of being owned that was somehow sexy?
John no longer made the temperature in the room drop when he came in; he'd lost much of that otherworldly aura over time, as he'd told her he would. Still, she somehow knew the instant he entered the room and her back stiffened. Her long fall of raven hair slid across her skin, making her shiver as she turned to sneak a look at him.
He went to the bed, picking up the switches and turning them over in his hands as he examined them. He gave the bundle an experimental swish that made her flinch and then nodded, pleased, and set it down. She'd turned back to face the wall quickly before he gave her his attention.
She could feel his eyes on her, watching. She tried to stay still, but it was impossible; she could barely avoid the temptation to look over her shoulder. Under his gaze, she found that she was very aware of her posture, straightening her back and holding her head high. One hand slid up to smooth her hair, fidgeting and arranging it until it spread across her back like a black lace shawl. When she realized how she was fussing, she quickly dropped her hands back into her lap with a sigh.
It was nerve-wracking, sitting there silently while he watched, and she didn't dare say anything in case it got her into more trouble. Just when she was about to break, to turn around and ask him to please just get it over with, he finally spoke.
He hadn't been trying to make her more nervous, he'd just enjoyed the sight of her there, on her knees because he'd ordered it. But he could tell that she was getting anxious and knew it was time. "I have no patience with lying. I'm learning to adjust to your modern ways. The cursing was a bit of a shock, at first, but now I find that I can accept it, within reason. Concealing things from me, telling me falsehoods, these things I will not accept, April," he said quietly. His tone was both stern and somehow disappointed and she cringed inside.
"I'm sorry, John. I just…I thought you'd think I was weak if I ran to you for protection," she whispered. Her back slumped and she stared down at her hands.
"It's never weak to come to your mate for help. Though we can't stand in a church and pledge our troth to each other before God, as I would prefer, in my eyes, we will be husband and wife. If you can't come to me for help, who could you go to?" he asked.
It was a reasonable question, but she'd gotten stuck on the part before it. Of course, he'd consider her staying to be marriage. It wasn't like men and women just shacked up in the old days, but somehow, she hadn't thought of it in those terms. "It's so new," she said finally. An excuse, and a shallow one, but it was still true. She wasn't used to going to anyone for help and with John, of course, there were the additional complications of trying to teach him about modern women, while submitting to him. It wasn't an easy road to walk.
He seemed to mull that over for a while. "Turn around and face me," he said. He waited until she shifted in place, still on her knees but now, with her back to the corner. "I understand the newness of the situation. This once, I will deal with you lightly, but if it happens again…" He let his words trail off. The threat didn't need to be voiced aloud, she knew exactly what would happen if she lied again.
She relaxed, letting out a slow breath of relief. "Thank you, John. I promise I won't lie to you again," she assured him. They both knew that it was likely a promise she would break, eventually, but hopefully, not for a good long time.
If she thought she was going to get off with no punishment at all, though, she was mistaken. He crooked a finger at her. "Come, let's get this over with. I dislike drawing it out any further," he said gruffly.
Her eyes widened. "But I thought—"
One eyebrow went up as he looked at her. "You thought you'd get away without receiving your due? Oh, no, my love. I'm afraid you've still earned a sore backside. I've just decided not to thrash you quite as hard as I'd intended. You'll have my hand, and then after, a short dose of the birch as a warning against future dishonesty. Now, come here," he said in a warning tone, holding out his hand to her.
Her bottom lip trembled as she got to her feet. For a second, she really had thought he'd let her slide. His hand, followed by those switches, didn't sound like she was being dealt with lightly at all and that must have shown on her face as she reluctantly moved closer to take his hand.
He took a sideways seat on the edge of the high bed, pulling her across his raised knee so that her feet dangled over the floor helplessly. Her upper body was supported by the bed and she had a perfect view of the camera that was taking in the scene. At least, they'd only be recording the punishment from the front, she thought. That made it a lot less graphic than some of the things that had been filmed.
"I had intended to hold you down and give you a proper birching, something you would have felt for days. Instead, you should be able to sit comfortably by tomorrow, if you don't give me cause to change my mind," he said. It was a veiled warning not to struggle too much and she received it loud and clear.
His hand cracked down across one bare cheek and the retort echoed through the room, making her jump almost before the pain of it arrived. She hissed in a breath just as a matching slap descended on the other cheek, leaving both sporting bright red splotches. It wasn't any harder than the last time he'd punished her, though, somehow, she always forgot just how much it hurt to be spanked when she wasn't turned on.
It hadn't taken her long to discover that she preferred to be spanked when her body was primed for sex. The arousal made the stinging heat into something very close to pleasure then, and this…this was not pleasure. She clutched at a handful of blankets and dragged them up to cover her mouth as his strong arm swung again. His hand, stiff and unyielding, bounced back and forth in a steady staccato of pain that built rapidly from a stinging heat to a searing fire that made it impossible to stay still.
With her feet already off the ground, it seemed even harder to keep her legs still; they kicked and flailed in the air with every brisk swat he laid across her tender skin. The rose blush darkened her tawny skin to crimson in just a few minutes, but that didn't mean he was ready to stop. What John considered a light punishment for her actions still felt pretty severe from her perspective and her upper-body writhed on the bed as she tried to escape his hand.
It was probably the hardest, or at least the most thorough spanking he'd given her, and part of it was because she'd lied to him. He could understand the rest—not being used to calling for help, not being used to a man giving her orders—but lying was unacceptable. Surely, even a girl raised in this time had been taught better. If not, she would certainly learn very quickly under his tutelage.
He held her tightly in place, and when she reached back to try and block the heavy swats, she found her wrist pinned firmly against her lower back. It made it even harder to struggle when moving too much tugged her arm up at a painful angle. Her legs were unconstrained, but without being able to touch the floor, she couldn't get the purchase to try and push herself free. All she could do was kick them up high enough to try and block his hand.
She folded nearly in half with her heels pressed against her sore and throbbing cheeks in an attempt to stop the spanking. And it did stop it, briefly. He waited in silence for her to calm down enough to hear him before he spoke.
"April! Legs down, now!" he snapped.
She moaned into the blankets, shaking her head. Her ass was on fire, and even now that he'd stopped, it didn't seem like the pain was dying down. She could feel her pulse thumping at the center of each scorched red cheek and that was really all she could focus on. She heard the command; she just didn't connect it with anything that she could reasonably do at that moment.
"You have until the count of three to get your feet
out of the way so I can continue your punishment. After that, you'll regret it, girl," he said in a menacing tone that would have chilled her to the bone, if she wasn't too focused on keeping her backside covered.
"One," he said. His voice calm and measured. He paused, waiting for her response.
"Please, John! Please, it hurts!" she blurted desperately.
"Two." He ignored her plea and the complaint. Of course, it hurt, it was meant to, and he wasn't going to bother to remind her of what she already knew. Nor did he have any intention of wrestling her legs down; he'd wait until she was ready to obey, but when a full minute passed and she only clamped her legs tighter against the enflamed flesh, her time ran out.
"Three. Just remember that you were warned, girl," he said in a foreboding tone.
She flinched; she knew she'd made a mistake and she twisted to look at him. "I'm sorry. I'll put them down!" she offered quickly. In fact, she was already relaxing her grip and letting her legs unfold, but it was too late.
He shook his head and released her arm, while she stared at him in surprise. Had it worked? Was he letting her get up? She was filled with hope for a moment but then it all came crashing down when he shifted her forward, further onto the bed. Without a word of explanation, he rolled her onto her back, but his eyes didn't focus on her full breasts or the cleft between her thighs; he had something else in mind.
She didn't understand what was happening as she found her legs doubled, knees pressed to her chest while she lay on her back. It was similar to the position you'd have a baby in to change their diaper and she didn't connect it with punishment at first. "J-John? What are you doing?" she asked. There was a tremble of fear in her voice as her eyes focused on him, wide and pleading.
"I did warn you, April. I don't like repeating myself so perhaps, next time, you'll think twice before ignoring my orders," he said calmly. He leaned in and stretched his left arm across the backs of her thighs, just at the hollows behind her knees, and pinned her legs there. The full horror of this particular position immediately became clear to her when she looked down.
With her legs pulled up and held in place, her thighs were spread to expose all of her secrets as they pushed outward in a lewd display, even her cheeks had parted to show her tight rosebud peeking between them. She flushed with humiliation. Even though they'd had sex and he'd examined every inch of her before, she'd never been presented in such a bawdy way before.
He seemed to enjoy the sight of her like this. Though it wasn't enough to take the annoyed look off his face, he did spend a few moments looking at her body restrained and exposed. It occurred to him that the position had more sexual possibilities and the urge to slip his fingers between her parted folds and tease her clit until she cried out was difficult to resist.
She could see the heat in his eyes as he stared at her and she forced herself to look away quickly before her body started to react. There was already something about the vulnerability that excited her but she couldn't, she just couldn't let herself get turned on right now. If she did, he'd know immediately. It would be impossible to miss the arousal beading between her thighs while they gaped obscenely right in front of his face.
She almost wished the spanking would start again so that the pain would take her mind off it. The fiery intenseness of the swats he'd been delivering were too much for her body to accommodate as pleasure, even if she wanted it to. But the second he did begin the punishment again, she took it all back, wishing for a longer break, no matter what the consequences were.
The skin of her thighs was still untouched but stretched tight with her legs pulled up out of the way, and that was where he concentrated all his attention now. The slaps even sounded different, meatier, as his hard palm crashed down across the tender skin of each leg. She yelped and thrashed frantically but her movements were now completely restricted by the way he had her pinned.
It hurt so much more than she'd expected, more than she'd prepared for, and tears sprang to her eyes and leaked down over her face, creating a picture of misery. Her hair, haloing her head in a black wreath, snarled and knotted without her noticing as she tossed her head from side to side. Her hands were free now, for all the good it did her, and they knotted in the covers as she cried out in pain.
She'd completely forgotten about the cameras, as she always did when she got too deeply into pain or pleasure, or she might have tried to be quieter, but it was just too much. Every searing slap that landed across that stretched skin left a deep ache underlying the surface stinging, and it built quickly. She couldn't believe how much pain he was causing just with his hand; she couldn't imagine his belt would be any worse. It hadn't felt nearly as bad as this when she'd experienced it through Elizabeth's memory of the day she'd fled the house and never come back. Of course, she'd experienced that second hand, muted by time, but this…this was more than enough to overload her pain receptors.
It was also an odd feeling to be staring at his face while he thoroughly spanked her ass. Normally, she was facing away from him and only sneaking an occasional look over her shoulder, but now, she could see the intense look of concentration he wore as he examined his handiwork, deciding where to land the next smack. Somehow, it made it more personal and harder to handle, especially when she got a flash of his blue eyes glittering angrily.
Eventually, he worked his way to the crease between thigh and cheek, but of course, there was no crease now. That tender flesh was completely exposed and laid bare for his hand to begin delivering a series of merciless spanks to the most sensitive part of her thighs. He gave her only five to each leg but it was more than enough to raise her cries to hysterical sobs. Especially since the last time his hand came down, his fingertips clipped her labia, either by accident or intentionally, and the unexpected sting made her buck with a loud yelp.
She looked at him through watery eyes, fearful that he intended to punish that part of her, as well, but to her relief, he released her legs and sat back. She had to let them unfold slowly, wincing, because the skin burned and itched awfully as her legs stretched out and dropped to the bed.
"I'm s-sorry I lied, John. S-sorry," she stammered. Her voice was low and pain-filled.
"And you will remember this before you let it happen again?" he asked, one eyebrow up in question. His handsome face looked serious, but no longer angry.
"I won't do it again, I promise," she swore fervently. Most of that was the pain of the punishment that hadn't eased at all yet, and he took it for the sincere promise it was, while knowing that, eventually, she'd likely make the same mistake. Humans, his mother had told him once, were made for lies; society was built on them.
"Good girl; I don't enjoy punishing you this hard," he said. Seeing her in this much distress was hard on his heart.
He reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Take a few minutes to calm yourself and we'll finish this," he said.
She jerked, startled and her eyes flew open. "I thought you were finished?" she wailed in panic.
He placed a finger at her lips, quieting her as a new spate of tears was splashing in warm drops across her cheeks. "I promised you a taste of the switch, just to remind you. Only a taste, April," he said to calm her. He'd planned to give her at least a half-dozen lines to sit on tomorrow, but she was so worn out from what she'd already had that he'd decided to reduce that to just a few. Provided, of course, that she didn't misbehave again. He really hoped she wouldn't.
He'd never, that she could remember, failed to deliver something he'd promised, so she knew there was no hope he'd let this go. And she turned her head to look over at the insidious bundle of switches she'd prepared earlier, just lying there waiting to be bent across her ass. She frowned, biting down on her bottom lip as she sniffled pathetically.
But he wasn't in a rush to carry out the last part of the punishment. He waited until her tears trickled to a stop and her breathing had slowed before he helped her off the bed. She hissed sharply as she scooted her raw backside to the
edge and stood up. Her hands instantly went back to rub gingerly. It didn't seem to help much. If anything, the gentle pressing seemed to increase the ache, and she quickly pulled them away.
He'd never switched anyone before, not in life, and not after, either. He'd been on the receiving end from his mother, who had a strict hand, and from schoolmasters who had a very different idea about child rearing, back then. He'd also seen servants, young house maids mostly, switched for failing in their duties. When you took in young girls to work as servants, at times, some parenting was needed.
Not too many years after his death, there had been a woman who kept house here, an older motherly type, who kept things running smoothly with a switch when it was called for. He'd seen, on several occasions, girls bent over, skirts lifted and underclothes downed so that they could receive their due at her hand. He'd taken from her the idea of the bundle of switches, because it had seemed to be extremely effective in reducing a girl to tears and promises of obedience. He intended to borrow something else as well, and that was the positioning for this punishment.
"Turn around, April," he instructed as he picked up the switches and swished them through the air. Her eyes widened and she swallowed nervously, but she obeyed. There was a tightness in her shoulders as she stood there, stiffly facing away, fighting the urge to look back at him.
"Spread your legs for balance and then bend over. I would hold onto your ankles, were I you. If you move out of position, I will start over again, and I know you don't want that," he warned.
She moved her feet slightly apart, hesitant to spread too far, in case a switch caught her between her thighs, but once she bent over, she knew maintaining the position would be impossible and was forced to put more distance between them for balance. Taking his advice, she wrapped her fingers around her ankles and held on. Waiting for him to begin was hard, and he seemed to be taking his time.
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