And then, as my mind neared sleep, my worries seemed to fade and the only memory of the day I had was that of the handsome Dr. Renshaw.
What would it be like to have him standing beside me at the piano, patiently guiding my clumsy hands? Would he have to put his strong hands on mine?
The thought startled me awake and I realized that I was completely alone instead of in a room filled with other girls, as I had been at the orphanage. A thrill raced through me as I let my hands glide beneath the covers and I closed my eyes again.
And there he was. Dr. Renshaw. Except he was not the soft-spoken, gentle man I knew. He had on a hard stare and his arms were folded across his chest.
I let my fingers settle on my already moist sex as I brought the dream to life.
“What have you done?”
“I’ve broken your rule, sir.”
“Why?”
I shake my head. Even I do not know why.
“Turn around.”
I feel my heart thundering inside my chest. I turn around.
“Put your hands on the table.”
I bend over, my breathing heavy, until my hands are resting on the table. Already I feel so exposed, so vulnerable, my rear protruding toward him. I deserve what is coming. I’ve been a bad girl and I deserve whatever punishment he sees fit for me.
Slow footsteps behind me. Until I feel him looming, towering over me. A firm hand yanks up my skirts then pulls down my drawers, leaving my rear completely exposed.
My heart is racing, pumping the pleasure that’s pooling in between my legs to the tips of my fingers and toes.
“You’ve done a very bad thing,” he rumbles. “You must be punished.”
I nod.
“Say it,” he orders.
“I must be punished,” I breathe, barely a whisper.
And then his massive palm comes crashing down on the round of my right cheek with a smack. Then my left. Then my right. Again my left.
I wince at the pain each time and after a few more spanks my bottom begins to burn. But what I feel most is the aching pleasure swelling in between my legs and threatening to burst.
His palm is hot now; I can feel it with each firm smack. Hot from slamming into my ass. I feel the wetness start to trickle down my thigh.
He stops. He holds his hand on my ass as he leans closer. I feel his hot breath on my neck.
“Are you… enjoying this?” he growls.
The answer is obvious and I know I don’t need to confess. He lets his hand slip down between my legs. I feel his rough fingers touch my tender, wet flesh. I shudder and teeter on the edge of a climax. He pressed further, pushing himself inside.
“Oh, please!” I shiver as his fingers fill the ache between my legs.
He stops, as if deciding what to do with me. I feel his other hand rest on my reddened, swollen cheek. I try to move back, try to slide onto him.
“Be still!” he warns as his palm lifts and falls in another painful crash.
I whimper but don’t dare move again.
Finally his fingers start to move inside me. He clutches my hip with one hand, driving himself into my softest places with the other.
I moan. I can feel the climax coming. I can feel it swelling within me.
“Not until I say it!” he growls again. But he’s pumping his fingers into me and I don’t know if I can stop myself. My body hurts with pleasure and I don’t know if I can…
“Now.”
The massive eruption comes from deep in my core and shakes my whole body. I tremble, my hands clutching against the desk as I feel my wetness pouring from me, onto his hand.
He lets me come. He works his two fingers deep into me, filling me, stretching me with them until I can’t take another moment of it and I moan, begging him to stop.
He doesn’t. A few more thrusts; he drags me back onto him until I can barely stand. Then he stops. But he doesn’t pull out. He holds himself there, reveling in the heat of my sex. Finally he speaks.
“Now… you are mine.”
* * *
When I woke the next morning, the first feeling that raced through me once the fog of sleep had cleared was that today might be the day I was found out. He had told me we would be beginning our lessons today. Today might be the day that I would have to admit to knowing nothing. The shame of it burned through me. I breathed deeply to try to let it pass.
As soon as I’d pushed away the worst of it, a second feeling took its place. This one was far more familiar and was the feeling that always ended with Mrs. Everton paddling a wooden spoon across my behind. It was a feeling that came whenever someone told me I couldn’t do something. It was a reaction to not being allowed. It would tease and tickle and taunt me until I gave in to it and as I remembered Dr. Renshaw’s words from the previous night, it did the same to me now.
Do not go down the stairs that lead beneath the house.
Again visions of what might be in that room filled my head. Even as I lay in bed, my mind was wandering down the corridor, down the stairs to the first floor, then turning around the hall to stare down the second, darker stairwell that led to the forbidden room. And already, my mind was plotting, no matter how hard I worked to convince it, how I would end up there undetected and when.
A knock on the door interrupted my planning. Mrs. Gibbins’ presence distracted me from it, but didn’t push it away completely. I blushed lightly at the memory of what had transpired between us the night before.
She laid out a dress for me, one far prettier than any I’d even laid eyes on before. She smiled, obviously amused at my astonishment and I felt sheepish and out of place once more.
“I’m sorry, dear.” Her apology made me look up from where I was trying to stare a hole into the floor. “You must know that many girls react that way. It’s not just you.”
I’m not sure why, but her reassurance made me feel so much more at ease.
“I know it must all be so overwhelming for you.”
“It is,” I replied, feeling like I could open to this woman, if only slightly. It made me realize that even though it had only been one evening, I missed the companionship of Darla and the other girls and save for Dr. Renshaw, I would most likely only have Mrs. Gibbins as a friend so I should try to get along with her as best I could.
“Come. Let’s get you dressed. Dr. Renshaw’s waiting for you at the breakfast table.”
Hearing his name spoken stirred the memories of my dreams the night before and brought a warmth to my cheeks. Luckily, Mrs. Gibbins seemed not to notice as she went about preparing me for the day.
Once I’d dressed, she groomed my hair in the mirror, showing me how to work the tangles out with a brush and where to part it so that it looked presentable. She did such a job of it that by the time I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. She, too, gave an approving smile and then we both walked out the room and down the stairs to the breakfast room.
* * *
Dr. Renshaw
I had to fight with myself not to stare. The sun was shining through the windows of the breakfast room and falling on the door. When she walked in, the white dress she was wearing caught the light and made her glow.
Mrs. Gibbins had obviously helped her in her dress and grooming and, though I’d found her to have a natural prettiness the day before, the way she looked now could only be described as beautiful.
Her red hair was swept so that it fell all over one shoulder. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the morning light. The dress outlined her proportions quite generously. The one she’d worn when she arrived had done little to flatter her figure, but this one outlined her shapely body.
I couldn’t help that my gaze lingered on her pert, round breasts, swept lower down her waist then finally settled on the roundness of her shapely behind. I’m not sure how long I stared at her, but she stood in the doorway not seeming to mind the attention until Mrs. Gibbins spoke.
“Tea or coffee?”
Whether she, too, had been daydr
eaming or not I didn’t know, but the question seemed to draw her out of some trance.
“Tea, please,” she answered, her voice sounding much stronger for a good night’s sleep. I rose as she came toward the table and it made her blush. I dare say I felt a flush of redness on my cheeks myself, for the thoughts I was having about her.
I cleared my throat and helped her into a chair.
“I trust you slept well?”
“Very well,” she answered with a smile.
“The bed is comfortable enough then?”
Her smile widened. “More than any bed I’ve ever slept in.”
“Good. Because we’ll need all of your faculties and attention for our lessons during the day. I propose that in the mornings we attend to music in the conservatory then reading and maths in the study. In the afternoons we will take our lessons outside.”
She nodded. Was there an apprehension there? Did I sense some discomfort? But why? I decided to ignore it for the time being. We would get to know each other in time.
Chapter Nine
Tennie
I spent most of the morning terrified. Breakfast was delicious, not the gruel I was used to. An egg, soft-boiled and toast to go with it, and all the cream that I wanted on top. But I could barely taste it. His words kept running through my head.
Reading and maths in the study.
I did my best to hide my nervousness, but it was impossible sitting at the piano to cover up the trembling in my hands.
“You’re nervous?”
I nodded and closed my eyes. The strong warmth of his hand on mine felt one hundred times better than I’d imagined it would the night before. He put his palm over my shaking fingers, steadying them. My body rose at his touch. I opened my eyes. There he was, his face just inches from mine. What was that look in his eyes? Had he been staring at me? I felt myself begin to blush at his attention, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
“You needn’t be, Tennie,” he said softly, his hand still around mine. “I only want to help you. Now come.” His eyes turned to the keys beneath my hand. “This is the middle C. Put your finger on it.” He guided my finger over it and together we pressed it, making the note ring.
I’d never seen a piano before, much less played one myself. The sound filled me with such a wonder that I forgot all about my worries and doubts. My eyes opened wide and I pushed the key again, louder this time.
“There. That’s better. Let me show you how it works.”
He opened the lid and explained all about the action of it. How the keys swung the hammers and how those in turn struck the strings. It all seemed quite wondrous and magical. I pressed the key again and watched the hammer spring to life. He stood patiently beside me as I pressed the key over and over, watching the mechanism.
“Alright, Tennie, we can’t spend all morning like this. Let me show you how to play a song.” He played “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” for me, then showed me how and which fingers to use on which keys. I did my best but couldn’t follow what he’d explained. “And that’s your first lesson,” he explained. “In music, as in everything in life, it’s best to take things one at a time. Let’s just do the first notes.”
So he did. He showed the first note again and made me play it, too. Over and over until I could do it with my eyes closed. Then we added the next and did the same thing. Then another. Then another and soon I found that I was able to play the first seven notes without an error and without his help.
I felt as if a part of the world had opened up to me I’d never been allowed to see. As if I had already taken a first step into a different life. Time seemed to have sped up because I couldn’t believe that an hour had passed when he told me it had.
“Alright, Tennie. I’ll show you where the study is now, where we’ll do our reading and maths. But remember, you are free to come and practice on the piano at any time. The more you do, the better you’ll get at it.”
My heart started jumping in my chest again as he led me through the corridor toward the study. I knew the moment of my humiliation was coming but I felt trapped, unable to do anything about it.
“Dr. Renshaw?” Mrs. Gibbins’ voice sounded like an angel from heaven who’d come to save me from my fate.
We stopped in the large front hall as he turned toward her.
“Yes? What is it?” he asked.
“There’s a matter of a delivery for you. They’ve come to the back.”
His brow furrowed into a scowl, as if he’d forgotten that something was coming today and it was a nuisance that they’d come now.
“Yes,” he muttered, then, “tell them I’ll be right out. Tennie,” he said, turning to me. “Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”
I forced a smile, but as soon as he’d left I sighed in relief. I was sure we were still going to the study, but at least the moment had been postponed. I stood alone in the empty hallway as Mrs. Gibbins had disappeared along with Dr. Renshaw and that feeling, the same one I’d felt that morning, crept slowly back.
My gaze wandered down the hall, to where the stairs disappeared down into the basement. I felt a nervous tickle in my stomach at the thought of walking down them. How would I do it? Would I do it tonight?
I pushed the thought from my mind, knowing it was wrong, knowing it was the one rule I was supposed to follow, but it wouldn’t budge. It seemed that because I’d thought about it, I would certainly have to follow through on it now.
I was shaken from my daydream when two large men in overalls appeared, carrying a large wooden box. Dr. Renshaw was behind them. I saw him glance at me. Was that a nervous look in his eye? Mrs. Gibbins appeared behind him and he whispered to her then motioned toward me. She saw me standing there, staring as the men descended the steps to the basement, and shuffled over.
“Come, dear. Let me show you to the study.”
Then she was pulling on me, tugging my arm and I realized I might not have been meant to see what I saw, those two men descending with the box. Of course it only made me more curious and I felt my resolve to investigate harden even as I tried to talk myself out of the plan.
The study was a large room with bookcases filled with books lining the rooms. There was a large desk and a leather chair behind it and on it stood a lamp. My heart jumped at the thought that I was soon to be discovered as an idiot.
“Have a seat and Dr. Renshaw will be along shortly,” Mrs. Gibbins said, before closing the door and leaving me alone.
I breathed deeply, trying to still my beating heart, but it would not work. It leaped again as I heard the sound of Dr. Renshaw’s footsteps in the hall.
* * *
Dr. Renshaw
It had been a mistake, her seeing the delivery going down the stairs. I knew it from the moment I saw her expression. It was the unmistakable expression of a young woman who has mischief on her mind. I knew from the way her eyes followed the men down the stairs that she would be unable to resist prying at my little secret. I knew, too, that I should remind her that the room was off limits and that she was not to visit there.
I’d never had any trouble with all of the other young women. They’d obviously been well-schooled by Mrs. Everton in how to obey. As soon as I would voice my expectations, I knew from the look of them that they would never dare test me with disobedience. And perhaps that was why Mrs. Everton always selected the girls ahead of time.
Maybe I should have let her choose this time as well. What I was feeling now, as I walked toward the study, was that I’d set myself on a dangerous path. Dangerous because, though I knew it would be best to reiterate for young Tennie that she must not, under any circumstances, set foot in the basement, I had no intention of doing so.
It was dangerous because of the feelings that had surfaced in me the night before, which had left me tossing and turning in an attempt to push the young woman out of my mind. Dangerous because I could sense the kind of woman she was. I’d been around enough women of her inclinations to know right away.
&n
bsp; Even if she might not know it, hers was a mind that craved obedience and correction. Hers was a mind and body that begged for pain as much as it did for pleasure. It was in her eyes. It was in the way she moved. It was in the way I felt as if her flesh were drawing my hand.
This in and of itself would not have presented a problem. I was never one to shy away from my own desires and I was glad to have known women who were as shameless as I. But this was different. She was different.
Not different because of her innocence or ignorance of what she wanted… what she needed. Different because every time I looked at her, I felt that same feeling, that same warmth I hadn’t felt for all these years. And in the world I’d carefully constructed for myself, those two feelings, discipline and love, were never meant to meet.
I took a deep breath before opening the door, steeling myself yet again to be around her. As my fingers wrapped around the doorknob, I wondered if I could do it. Could I have her here for a year and not allow myself to…
The sounds of sobbing from within the study made me twist the knob and throw the door open.
“Tennie? What’s the matter?”
I stepped to her side and without thinking, wrapped her in my arms. She was crying quietly but her whole body shook gently with the exertion and all I could do was hold her close to me. A strong feeling overwhelmed me, the urge to protect her from what was hurting her inside.
“Dr. Renshaw, sir, I have to tell you something.”
I’m not sure why my stomach knotted at her words. What could she possibly have to tell me that would be so serious? My chest tightened at the possibilities. That she hated it here. That she wanted to leave. That she’d never wanted to come in the first place. I’d never been so affected by what one young woman might think of me, of what I’d try to do for her.
Chosen by the Doctor Page 5