by Golden Angel
It appeared that the previous spanking hadn't made quite the impression he'd thought. He was determined that this one would.
Cynthia's tears were falling quite freely now as she struggled to maintain her pose, her fingers clutching at the edges of the seat padding to keep from reaching back and covering her bottom. Glory be, it hurt so much more than she'd remembered! And yet with every whack of the Earl's palm against her flesh, her insides clenched and quivered and she could feel the front of her woman's mound pressing against the arm of the chair and making her tingle.
Obviously there was something very wrong with her body that it could become so horribly confused.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she cried out, finding the words that had ended the spanking last time. "I won't do it again!"
"Correct, this time I will make absolutely sure you won't."
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Squealing, Cynthia tried to rear up as the Earl's hand came down even harder. To her horror, his free hand immediately pressed down on the small of her back, easily holding her pinned like a bug as he continued the assault on her bottom. It was burning, and every stinging swat bit into her deeper as he continued spanking her.
When she tried to reach back, to stop him, he just grasped her wrists in his long fingers and used her own hands to help hold her down! Sobbing, Cynthia kicked out uselessly, not caring anymore what the Earl might think. But there was no stopping his assault on her flaming posterier; the spanks came swift and sure, peppering her bottom even further now that he sensed his point was truly being made.
She'd never felt so completely helpless, so incredibly out of control in her life. It sparked something deep inside her, some craving, that had never been awoken or fulfilled. There was no stopping the man, not with words or by struggling; she was pinned and bared to him in the most primal way. If he wanted to, he could touch every inch of her woman parts, he could spank her bottom raw, he could do whatever he wanted to her.
It was intensely arousing, even as the awful burn of the spanking flayed her. Somehow she hadn't expected this. Last time, he hadn't been nearly this brutal even though he'd turned her bottom bright red; this time he was pushing her far beyond that point, to where her garbled promises and pleas actually felt sincere. She would agree to anything just to make him stop.
Looking down at the cherry red, dancing bottom in front of him, Wesley felt his cock throb in response. He'd already known that it had been too long since he'd had a woman, but it had particularly been too long since he'd been with a woman who enjoyed the same exotic inclinations he preferred. The ladies of the ton were willing to be seduced, but most were not very inventive and most were unwilling to try anything new.
Turning his ward's bottom from a lovely cream to this flaming red was the closest he'd come to satisfying his more improper desires. If he could keep her bent over and use the slick oils he'd brought back from India to lubricate the winking little pink hole between those swollen, red cheeks and then shove his cock it, taking her in the most base and perverted way possible, then his desires would be completely satisfied. Unfortunately, so far he hadn't found a woman in England that was willing to go beyond a certain point with him.
Hell, if he could find an accommodating widow, he'd probably marry her on the spot. Eventually, he'd probably marry some young miss who was more enamored of his title than his person, beget an heir and a spare on her, and have a mistress for his... games. Since it was doubtful any sweet young miss would be willing to even try the decadent perversions he favored.
With an inward sigh, Wesley landed two more hard smacks on Cynthia's sit-spots, startling himself when his fingertips came away wet. Stepping back, he brought his fingers to his nose, wondering if he had pushed her too far, if she had wet herself... but the musky scent of aroused woman filled his nostrils. Just like the time before, only this spanking had been much more thorough and he truly hadn’t expected her to have this kind of response today.
Shocked to his core, he didn't say anything as Cynthia stoo
d, her skirts rustling back down to the floor, and turned and fled. He caught a glimpse of her face, streaked with tears, eyes glazed with shock. There was a moment when she glared at him before fleeing the room.
And he was so busy smelling her scent on his fingers that he didn't stop her.
Leaning back against the desk, his mind ran over the possible ramifications of his discovery... and what he was going to do about it.
******
Locking the door behind her, Cynthia heaved a few more sobs. She was still surprised that the Earl had let her go without a further lecture, but she hadn't been about to stay and allow him to whack on her poor bottom some more. Last time hadn't been nearly as painful!
Hustling over to the mirror, she yanked up her skirts to her hips and sucked in a shocked breath. Her bottom was so red it was nearly glowing, and when she reached around to press cool finger tips to its agonized surface, she could actually feel the heat emanating from her skin.
"Bloody hell..." she murmured, almost in awe. The rounded mounds actually looked rather swollen.
If it wasn't for the stinging, burning, throbbing, she would have been utterly fascinated by its appearance. Stroking her fingers over the sensitive surface, she shuddered. Even the softest touch caused an increase in the stinging.
It wasn't until she noticed that she was squeezing her thighs together that she realized the delicious feeling of needy pleasure had built up in her quim. Cynthia groaned. How was that possible? She hadn't understood it the first time either, but this was beyond the pale.
Gently rolling herself onto her bed, she hissed in pain when her weight pressed down on her bottom. Lifting her skirts up to her hips, she planted her feet on the bed to help relieve the pressure on her sore buttocks, just as she had the last time. When her fingers pressed down into the folds of her womanhood, the slick wetness was more than it had ever been before and her little pleasure nub was hard and aching.
Cynthia moaned as she began to rub herself, her free hand reaching into the top of her dress to pinch and play with her nipples. Somehow being rougher than usual with the hard little tips of her breasts balanced out the throbbing flames of her bottom. Gasping, shocked at how quickly she was reaching her pleasure, Cynthia rubbed her little pleasure nub harder and harder, squealing a bit as her bottom began to move up and down, bouncing off the bed.
The flashes of stinging pain that flared every time her bottom bounced intensified the exquisite ache between her legs, a repercussion she was becoming familiar with. She clenched her teeth over a scream as the most delicious ecstasy ripped through her, her arm becoming sore as she rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, riding out every last exquisite ripple of pleasure.
Gasping, completely out of air, she rolled onto her side. Her bottom throbbed. Between her legs pulsed. And this climax had been even more intense than the last one after she'd been spanked.
Was there some connection between how hard the Earl spanked her and how high her pleasure went?
Yet, there was a warm ache between her legs that still wasn't satisfied. Moaning, Cynthia gently rubbed little circles over her wet flesh until the insistent need began to build again and then she rubbed, rubbed, rubbed, until she was thrashing and gasping again with ecstasy.
After three intense orgasms, the poor girl was utterly wrung out. Her bottom was on fire, the ache between her legs had subsided but still felt like something was missing, and she was completely exhausted. After all, it had been a long morning and afternoon, followed by the spanking and then more rubbing and ecstasy than she'd ever experienced before. It was a wonder she hadn't rubbed her little nubbin off.
Hazy, mostly sated, Cynthia rolled onto her stomach and fell asleep with her dress still on and hiked up around her hips.
Chapter 7
When the maid knocked on her door, awakening her, Cynthia forgot herself so far as to roll onto her back and sit up. Yelping, she jolted off the bed, whimpering a bit as her fle
sh jiggled. Her bottom was still incredibly sore, although it hadn’t stopped her from her exhausted sleep.
“Miss? Are you awake?” The maid’s voice was accompanied by the rattling of the doorknob. “It’s time to dress for dinner.”
“Yes, yes, I’m awake, just a moment,” Cynthia said, rushing over to the mirror.
Shockingly, the skin of her bottom was only pink rather than red now, although the deep ache from her punishment lingered. Her bottom was still sensitive to the touch, with a feeling of almost bruising underneath even though it barely showed any ill effects. Somehow the lack of evidence seemed monumentally unfair, as if she’d been denied a badge of honor to wear for having endured the punishment.
Another knock on the door reminded her that the maid was waiting. Cynthia sighed and let her skirts drop back down again.
******
The composed debutante who was shown into the drawing room didn’t at all resemble the sobbing, red-eyed young lady that Wesley had punished. He couldn’t keep too close an eye on her, however, or Eleanor and Edwin would notice. Or maybe they wouldn’t; the two love birds seemed rather wrapped up in each other, although he had noticed that Eleanor was sitting rather gingerly.
He deduced that Cynthia wasn’t the only young woman to be disciplined in the past twenty-four hours.
The Countess looked up and smiled approvingly at her ward’s appearance. The rose pink damask set off her sensual good looks, bringing a bright pink to her cheeks and lips and setting off the rich brown of her hair and eyes. He wondered if it was anything close to the current color of her bottom, and when she glanced at him with a challengingly mischievous look in her eyes, he wondered if she’d purposefully dressed to remind him of her spanking. The little minx. Although they didn’t know each other very well yet, he wouldn’t put it past her. The part of him that didn’t want to think of her as his responsibility thoroughly approved.
Blast.
But she was his responsibility and he’d resolved to forget the moment of… contemplation that he’d had earlier in the day. He didn’t want to get married yet. Especially not to a brazen, bold little hoyden who would keep him hopping with her antics. And Cynthia needed to be married off quickly – not just for his mother’s sake, but now for her own. Before he ruined her utterly.
Of course, then he’d be honor bound to marry her...
Stop it you bloody fool.
Pasting a smile on his face, he watched as his mother’s escort for the evening, the elderly Viscount Vernier, bowed over Cynthia’s hand, complimenting her on her delightful appearance. Following Vernier, Wesley bowed over his ward’s hand as well, murmuring his own compliments.
He watched as she greeted Edwin and Eleanor, the latter with every evidence of delight. Yes, he’d been right not to inform her that Eleanor had shared some of her confidences; the women were well on their way to a true friendship – and knowing Edwin, he was fairly sure that Eleanor hadn’t meant to betray Cynthia’s confidences. As long as the chit knew not to attempt any of those intimacies until after she was married, he’d stay content. And keep a weather eye out.
“What has she done now?” Edwin asked in a low voice, sidling up to Wesley as Eleanor, the Countess and Cynthia began to chat, while Vernier listened with an indulgent smile on his face. Wesley wondered if the older man was hard of hearing, as a discussion about the shops of Bath could hardly be stimulating to him.
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you want to throttle her.”
“I do not,” Wesley said gruffly, trying to compose his features. It was harder than he’d expected because he was already trying to cover his initial reaction to Cynthia’s presence and his thoughts about what color her bottom might be. He noticed that when she settled on the couch next to the Countess that she did so very, very carefully and she didn’t glance in his direction the entire time. Knowing that her bottom was still aching did nothing for the state of his breeches and he blessed the fact that he’d worn a looser fitting pair than usual.
Still, he didn’t want anyone to know that his ward was getting under his skin. So he forced a smile and turned away from her so that he could stop focusing on all the soft, white skin that was revealed by her low neckline and watching her shift back and forth as if trying to find a comfortable way to sit on a very sore bottom.
“I may need to enlist you and Eleanor to help my mother and I keep an eye on her this evening,” Wesley said in a low voice. He hadn’t told his mother that Cynthia bore stricter watching, mostly because then he would have to explain why. And if Eleanor and Edwin were going to be there, then he could rely on them. Well, on Edwin, certainly. Nell might help out, but she was also just as likely to take Cynthia’s side, as far as she thought Cynthia could be trusted. Wesley had a feeling that Nell’s definition of how far Cynthia could be trusted differed greatly from his own.
Edwin raised one dark eyebrow. “Never thought I’d see the day when you admitted to a woman being too much for you to handle.”
Scowling, Wesley waved his hand, as if to wave Edwin’s words away. They needled, particularly because there was just the smallest grain of truth to them. "I've never met one that was so bent on her own destruction."
Laughing, Edwin clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a nod that was both apologetic and accepting of the request as the ladies looked up at them, obviously distracted from their own conversation. Interestingly, when Cynthia met Wesley's eyes for the first time that evening, she blushed.
Then he saw the way her lips parted before she looked away and he realized she hadn't been blushing. She'd been aroused. Was she thinking about her spanking? As his breeches tightened uncomfortably, Wesley realized he was contemplating his ward in a way that he'd firmly decided not to.
Damnation. He needed to find her a husband and quickly, and he needed to find himself a feminine distraction even more quickly. He would definitely use the Assembly tonight to achieve both goals.
******
If Wesley had thought that the evening was going to be easy, his first glimpse of Cynthia in a ball gown rudely disabused him of the notion. She was temptation incarnate; if they'd been in London men would have been throwing themselves at her feet with the more dangerous rakes and roués circling like the hungry wolves they were. The low dip of her neckline revealed what seemed a scandalous amount of the upper curves of her breasts, all that gleaming white flesh an invitation for lips and trailing fingers. One brunette curl rested on her shoulder, showing off how pale and creamy her skin truly was; the rest was wound about in an elaborate coiffure with a silver ribbon that matched the gauzy netting over a dress of aquamarine.
The entire ensemble made her look both older and more tempting than ever, with those wide, laughing hazel eyes and curved, smiling lips. This was no hoyden, this was a sensual siren, elegantly draped and expertly presented to the entice the male senses. He was so intent on controlling his inevitable reaction to the way the gown clung to her ample curves that he didn't even notice the flash of feminine awareness and satisfaction that went through her eyes. Cynthia was not the usual young miss; she was quite aware of her effect on men and she was finally seeing the same symptoms in the Earl.
It was immensely satisfying.
When he raised her hand to his lips, meeting her eyes, his gaze suddenly shuttered as Wesley realized he'd been thrown enough by her appearance to show his true reaction. He actually had to remind himself that he wasn't going to marry the chit just because he ached to bed her.
The lazy smile that slid across his face was a mask, but it was also a smile that was designed to set women's heart's fluttering. A smile that had actually caused a debutante to swoon earlier in the Season when he'd favored her with it - not that he expected Cynthia to behave in the same manner as that silly chit, but he knew that it should at the least make her uneasy.
"You look... absolutely divine tonight, Miss Bryant. I'm sure even in sleepy Bath the gentlemen will be clamoring for your attention. Just remem
ber not to give any of them too much of it."
Cynthia felt rather breathless. When she'd dressed for this evening she'd wanted to stun the Earl, to show him that she could do the pretty and play the part of a proper lady, just to get a rise out of him. Certainly not because her bottom was still aching and she was worried about being on the receiving end of another spanking - surely the Countess wouldn't allow any disruptions to their planned evening.
The rakish grin on his face had set her heart pounding; it was a smile that many men had given her, but none quite so effectively. Perhaps because this was the first time that the Earl had looked at her like that? Or perhaps because he was the only male to have ever seen her private areas? So far she'd always kept the men who kissed her from taking matters beyond a certain point, and that point was any parts underneath her clothing, but the Earl's spankings didn't afford her any such protection. Which might possibly be why they excited her so.
Still, she didn't appreciate the reminder that he didn't have any faith in her ability to behave. She could when she chose to.
Tilting her head haughtily up, she snapped at his bicep with her fan, trying to ignore just how impressive a bicep it was. No padded shoulders needed for the Earl. The look of surprise at her retaliation almost made her break character and giggle.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said coolly, in her best impression of the Countess' quelling tones. The edges of her lips curved upwards, as they always did when she was about to utter something purposefully outrageous. "I always bestow my attentions to the gentlemen equally."
The Earl's hazel eyes narrowed, the smile slipping from his face and it really was all Cynthia could do not to laugh out loud at him. Despite how much her bottom hurt - and it truly did, although much less when she was standing rather than sitting - she just could not keep from prodding at him. The implication that she allowed quite a few gentlemen some... ah... liberties was not lost on him and he obviously didn't like.