Corrected By The Colonel

by Jones, Celeste

  Cool air blew across her calves and her breath hitched in her throat. Surely he would stop this mortifying behavior before he bared any more of her body.

  “Stop. Stop at once.” She demanded and even stomped her foot to emphasize her point. She ought to have run off, but somehow her feet would not move.

  His eyes darkened and she saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Oh no, poppet,” he said. “I have worked up a sweat. I must use something to clean my brow.”

  To her horror, he leaned down until his face came even with her womanhood and wiped himself clean with the fabric of her dress. Never had any person, man or woman, been so close to her most private parts and she blushed with anger and indignation.

  “You have completed your task, now let go of my dress and untie my hands.”

  As though she had not even spoken, he continued to raise her hem. Cool air prickled against parts of her body which had never been bared in such a way, particularly out of doors. Or to a man. Surely he would stop.

  She squirmed in place as unbidden moisture seeped between her thighs.

  “You have a secret, poppet.” He gathered up her skirts and looped them over her bound hands. The front of her skirt shielded her femininity, but her entire backside was completely exposed. “And I mean to find out what it is.”

  “I have no secrets.” She lied. “If you were any sort of gentleman you would stop what you are doing this instant.”

  “If you were any sort of lady you would not be about to get a spanking.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I said you are going to get a spanking and I will not stop until you tell me the truth.”

  She peeped up at his face to see if he was joking. He was not.

  Well, she was not about to be spanked and most certainly not by this man. She took off running and soon escaped the stable. But where ought she to go? She could hardly return to Hadley Hall with her hands tied up with leather and her bare backside displayed to all. Lady Tyndall would most certainly not be pleased.

  A wooded area loomed in the distance. She headed that way hoping to at least escape from the wrath of Colonel Sinclair.

  She was unused to running and with her hands tethered and her skirts bound up, it was only a matter of time before she was caught and for the second time that day she found herself carried in the arms of Colonel Blaise Sinclair. However, this time, instead of being cradled against his chest like a cherished child, she lay over his shoulder like a sack of flour with her rear end facing the sun.

  The front of her skirts caught on the shoulder of Colonel Sinclair's coat. The curls of her sex brushed against the stiff fabric covering his chest and a tingle of desire spread through her.

  Apparently unwilling to wait to start punishing her, the Colonel clamped her legs with one arm and used the other to swat her backside. The slap of his hand on her flesh echoed across the field.

  “How dare you!” she said. “Stop right now or I will scream.”

  “Scream all you like, poppet. You will only draw the attention of my cousin and his family. I am sure you do not wish them to find you upended over my lap, do you?" He punctuated his question with a firm smack to the crease between her thigh and buttocks.

  “You know nothing about what my ‘cause’ might be.” Her backside stung and her ego was bruised. She longed to strike back at him, but with her hands tethered and her legs ensnared in his strong arm, she had few options.

  She bit his ear.

  She expected him to cry out. To surrender to her superior fighting power.

  She was wrong.

  He continued to swat her upturned bottom, undeterred. By the time they were back inside the stable Cassandra's backside flamed. The Colonel set her on her feet, swore under his breath, then covered her mouth with his in a kiss that both astonished and delighted her. She had never been kissed before, but if this was what it was like, she wished to never stop.

  She longed to wrap her arms around him and pull him closer, to explore the yearning building within her. However, with her arms tied behind her, all she could do was lean into him and press her soft breasts to his firm chest.

  When the kiss ended he set her away from him and they looked at each other with wild eyes and heaving breath.

  A small trickle of blood appeared below the ear she had bitten. She looked from the blood trail to his face and back again, then chewed on her kiss swollen lips wondering what he had in mind to do with her.

  He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped away the blood before returning it to his pocket.

  Cassandra lowered her eyes. “I am sorry,” she said. “I did not mean to injure you.”

  His warm hand cupped her chin and raised her face to look at him. He stroked his thumb over her sensitive lips. “I would not expect any less from you, my little tomcat,” he said. “But that does not mean you will not be punished.”

  Cassandra’s eyes grew wide. “But I apologized.”

  He chuckled and the sound of it made her insides go warm and soft. “You apologized for injuring me. That still leaves the matter of your attacking me with a riding crop, running away, and your plan to manipulate my cousin into marrying you.”

  Blaise sat upon the bench where she had first seen him reading her letter. Though only a few minutes had passed, much had happened in that time. Surprisingly, she had forgotten her backside was sticking out of her dress like a creamy peach. Her mind had been otherwise occupied.

  But, now that he appeared intent upon spanking her, she became very aware of the vulnerability of her situation.

  He positioned her across his lap. She did feel bad about biting him. And kicking his shin was probably uncalled for, though in her defense, he had tied her up.

  Mostly she wondered if he would kiss her again.

  As she stared at the hard dirt floor of the stable he checked the tightness of the reins wrapped around her wrists. His gentle fingers worked a bit to loosen the leather yet still keep her bound. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Perhaps someday I will tie you up this way and show you some delicious pleasures.”

  Cassandra’s eyes went wide, she immediately stiffened across his lap and a trickle of moisture escaped her secret place and seeped onto her thigh. She had no idea what he was talking about, and though she had thrilled at being held in his arms and feeling his lips upon hers, she had no intention of spending any more time with this man.

  She was meant to be Lady Tyndall, not the wife of some army officer. She steeled her resolve and convinced herself to accept his punishment just to get it over so she could get on with her plan.

  His broad palm stroked her backside and the flesh of her thighs quivered in anticipation. Somewhere in the distance a horse munched on oats. Otherwise, the building was silent.

  Oddly, his touch on her bottom soothed her. Cassandra could hardly believe the liberties he had taken with her. She ought to have been horrified and offended, but she was not.

  And yet, somewhere deep in her soul, she knew this was where she was meant to be.

  At least until the searing crack of his hand on her bottom.

  “Ouch!”

  “It is meant to hurt, my sweet. That is why it is called punishment.” His hand came down on her bum and she wiggled in an attempt to get away. “Oh no, you will not be getting away from me until I am good and ready to let you go.” He scissored his leg over hers and held her in place.

  He leaned down so his chest pressed against her back, the weight of his body causing an odd stirring in her lower parts, additional dampness trickled between her thighs, and he whispered in her ear, “I will not add to your punishment for trying to get off my lap, but next time I will.”

  “Next time?” she screeched and twisted her head to look at him. “There is not going to be a next time. I do not know what you are thinking, but I have apologized for biting you and you said you would not have expected any less than that from me, so I do not know why you believe it is fair to p-punish me in this way.” As
she spoke, he continued meting out discipline to her upturned arse.

  “In fact,” she struggled to keep the tears out of her voice. The pain in her bottom scorched across her flesh, but she would never beg him to stop. She wanted nothing from him and had no intention of ever being beholden to him. “Once you have finished with your barbaric mistreatment of me, I intend to never speak to you again.”

  “Oh really?” The chuckle in his voice demeaned her more than the swats he landed in rapid succession on her posterior. “How do you propose to do that, when you also plan to marry my cousin?”

  “I shall tell him I do not wish for you to visit Hadley Hall ever again.”

  “Do you not suppose,” he stroked his hands over the heated flesh of her backside, “that my dear cousin will wonder why you have taken a dislike to me, his favorite relative?” A pulsing in her bottom caused her to press her buttocks toward his hand. His questions, his hand gliding between her thighs and stroking the moisture there, the curious sensations vibrating through her body, all combined to make it difficult for her to think straight.

  “We still have not addressed the matter of your many secrets.” Blaise continued caressing her stinging flesh.

  Cassandra’s throat went dry. She feared if he continued touching her in that manner, she would soon disclose every secret she had ever been told in her entire life. She bit her lip and focused on not replying.

  “I see I am going to have to use more drastic measures to get you to talk.” Blaise moved his fingers further up her thighs until they brushed against the outside of her slick femininity.

  A whimper escaped from her throat. He ought not to be touching her there and she most certainly ought not to be enjoying it. But what either of them ought to be doing and reality were two very different things in that moment.

  His finger slid into her passage. Cassandra inhaled sharply at the intrusion, but as he stroked the interior of her sex, she mewled with pleasure and relaxed into his touch.

  While his finger explored the heat inside her body, his thumb glided along the juncture where her silky thighs met the heat of her core.

  Cassandra squirmed across Blaise's hard thighs, her hips pumping against the pressure of his hand.

  "Tell me little imposter, what is your true reason for being at Hadley Hall?" There was no mistaking the husk in The Colonel's voice.

  "There is no reason other than my desire to wed Lord Tyndall. That is hardly a secret." The words came out on a rasping breath while Blaise inserted another finger into her sex. "Are not all ladies from fine families expected to seek out a proper husband?"

  "I am curious about your family, which you have just described as fine."

  Cassandra's writhing against his lap halted for a moment and she forced her mind to focus on a reply. "I love my family very much."

  "I am sure you do." Colonel Sinclair's thumb, thoroughly lubricated by the cream from her sex, pressed against her bottom hole. "But that does not tell me much about them." He applied more emphasis to the puckered opening.

  "I mean to find out why someone who portrays herself as a proper lady," he stroked back and forth over her opening and she gasped "wears shoes that have been repaired repeatedly." He breeched the entrance while he continued to speak. "Is not wearing the latest in fashionable undergarments for ladies." He probed further, "and does not know the difference between a footman and a Colonel in the army." Cassandra clenched her muscles to bar him further entry. And to stem the quiver building deep within her at his penetration.

  Undeterred, he slapped her upturned bottom. "Relax, Miss Sheridan. It will go easier if you do."

  He pumped his digit in and out of her backside and Cassandra felt the rosebud of her bottom open further. She wanted to fight against him, or at least believed she ought to, but his dominance made her want to cry out for more.

  "Good girl." He thumbed her hole while the fingers of his other hand rubbed the nub of her clitoris.

  Cassandra had never experienced anything so hedonistic. Heat roiled through her nether region. Her hips bucked and her breath came in labored gasps. It was wanton and improper and so deliciously naughty. Cassandra lost all control of common sense. A wave of emotion and longing swept over her.

  When Blaise removed his thumb she tipped her bottom upward in search of contact. Without the fullness of his digit in her anus, she felt empty. Her moan echoed through the stable when he plunged back into her waiting hole.

  "You are quite the naughty little harlot, are you not, Miss Cassandra Sheridan?"

  She ought to have objected. Slapped his face for calling her a harlot, but given that her hips were pounding back and forth in rhythm with his plunder of her ass while begging him not to stop, the only thing that didn't make her a harlot was the absence of an exchange of money.

  Frankly, it felt so good, if she had any money she'd give it to him just to assure his continued attentions to her throbbing bottom.

  The only sounds in the stable were the rhythm of their hoarse breathing as each focused on sensual pleasure, one giving and one receiving. An unfamiliar wave of molten heat scorched Cassandra's body and just when it reached a crescendo, Blaise made one final thrust into her hole, she shuddered and collapsed over his thighs.

  Chapter Four

  Colonel Blaise Sinclair gazed at the woman splayed across his lap, the sweet curve of her cheeks reddened by his discipline and her bottom hole pillaged by his dominance.

  Her bound hands added to the sensuality of the entire vision before him.

  If he'd had any sense, he would have packed his bags and left as soon as he laid eyes on Miss Cassandra Sheridan, but he hadn't and now nothing could tear him away from her.

  The blame for his predicament fell squarely on his shoulders. She had not set out to snare him with her fiery spirit, golden curls and winsome blue eyes. No, he was not the man whose attention she sought. She had made that abundantly clear.

  She stirred across his lap and his cock strained against his pants. How he wished to pillage her with more than just his thumb, but even he knew that would be crossing a line.

  He was not opposed to crossing lines, but he was also a patient man.

  Usually.

  He assisted Cassandra in raising herself up and he seated her on his knee. Her face, softened by her climax, had lost its tense edge and he could see the beautiful young lady beneath the tough façade she'd created.

  Spent, she rested her head on his shoulder and gazed up at him with her sky blue eyes.

  He reached behind her and untied the leather which held her wrists together, then gently massaged her hands and arms. Though more delicate than his battle-worn hands, there was tell-tale evidence that her hands had spent some time at hard work.

  He pressed his lips to the center of her palm and was rewarded by her sudden inhalation of breath.

  He drew lazy circles with his tongue and Cassandra plunged her other palm into his hair. He turned his attention to her mouth and pulled her close, covering her delicate lips with his own. She moaned deep in her throat and pressed into him, her hand clasping the back of his head.

  Her lips moved tentatively under his and he coaxed them gently into responding to his kiss. When she relaxed into the kiss, he deepened the contact. She stiffened at his first intrusion into her mouth, but soon locked both hands into his hair while her tongue danced with his.

  Finally Blaise forced himself to stop. He set her next to him on the bench, then stood and paced the room.

  When he glanced back at Cassandra, she had her head down and soft tears fell onto her hands that were clasped in her lap.

  Determined not to be swayed by her tears, Blaise forced himself to find out more about Cassandra Sheridan. He told himself he owed it to his cousin to make sure she was a proper prospect for a wife, but truth be told, he wanted to know everything about her for himself.

  Not trusting himself to be too near, he stood and stared down at her, using his most commanding tone.

  "Now, Miss Sheri
dan, if that is your name, please explain to me who you really are and what you are doing here?"

  Cassandra scrubbed at the tears on her cheeks then looked up at Blaise, her eyes a sea of hurt. "Is that what this was all about? Is this one of the ways the army teaches its officers to interrogate prisoners?"

  Blaise raked his hand through his hair and heaved a lengthy sigh. "No, it is not." He paced away then turned to face her. "What happened between us was not planned. I have no explanation for my behavior other than that I behaved badly."

  "Behaved badly? Is that what you call it?" Cassandra stood, turned on her heel and left the barn.

  ***

  During the remainder of the day he did his best to stay away from Cassandra, but by dinner time, Colonel Blaise Sinclair sat in his room at Hadley Hall, a letter in one hand and a freshly repaired shoe in the other. He had to chuckle. This visit to his aunt’s home had certainly been much more interesting than he had anticipated.

  For as many years as he could remember, he had made an annual pilgrimage to visit his mother’s sister’s family. As he got older, he had railed against the forced familiarity with the formidable Lady Tyndall and her rather dull children, but he had promised his mother to go at least once a year and now he made the trek to honor her memory.

  Over the years he had developed strategies for minimizing his time spent confined with his relatives. He felt a bit of a cad for planning to avoid his two cousins, but they had so little in common and once he had been to war, he felt even more distant from his genteel relatives.

  He had been much delighted to find Miss Cassandra Sheridan in residence upon his arrival at Hadley Hall. Not that he had any notion of stealing her attentions away from his cousin, but because her belief that he was a servant rather than an army officer in uniform had provided him with much amusement.

  And now that he had spent time alone with her, and most inappropriately, he had other notions of amusement in mind which made their episode in the stable look like a church picnic.

  The wise course would be to bundle the letter and shoe together, return them to Miss Cassandra Sheridan, make excuses for his early departure and get as far away from Hadley Hall, and Miss Sheridan, as possible. Perhaps he could request an overseas assignment.