by Golden Angel
“No. That’s the privilege of being the husband.”
“That’s not fair!”
Thomas couldn’t really argue that point. “I suppose not. But that is how it is.”
Now he lifted her up, not at all surprised when she turned her tear-stained face away from him.
Obviously she didn’t want him to see the evidence of her tears, impossible as it was to hide. Thomas moved to pull her onto his lap, in a sitting position this time.
Unfortunately, she pushed herself all the way to her feet, pulling up her skirts and furiously re-lacing them as she did so. Thomas stood, reaching for her… he much preferred spankings as bed play, but if he had to spank a woman to discipline her then he at least enjoyed comforting her afterwards, but Arabella stepped away. What he could see of her expression was mulish and a little defiant, which made him wonder if perhaps he hadn’t spanked her long enough.
She had seemed truly sorry, but now that she was no longer over his lap, she wasn’t behaving like any other woman had before with him. Thomas was at a bit of a loss of what to do. While he wanted to coddle and cuddle her, now that she’d apologized and been punished, she didn’t seem inclined to allow it.
The braid she’d coiled her hair into was coming undone, strands of it hanging around her cheeks, and she looked flushed, furious, and embarrassed.
“Arabella…” His voice trailed off as she drew herself up and glared at him. Thomas frowned back at her, realizing that even though he wished she would let him hold her, he was also aroused by the little defiant show she was putting on. He shouldn’t enjoy that so much, should he? It certainly wouldn’t do to encourage her defiance.
“Tomorrow will I be allowed to ride?” The heavy sarcasm in her voice as she asked permission made it very clear what she thought about doing so.
“If you ride out with me,” he said firmly. When her eyes narrowed at him, he raised his eyebrow. “At present, I am the only one capable of keeping up with you while you’re on Mist who will be awake at that hour. Unless you would prefer a different mount?”
Her pouty lips firmed. Thomas hadn’t thought so.
When she was on Mist’s back and he on Brutus’, Thomas could keep up with her but none of the grooms would be able to. Also, he wouldn’t trust a groom to keep her in line. No one else he trusted would be awake—Walter slept till noon at the earliest, and although the house Felix and Gabrielle had rented for the Season was just down the street, Felix wouldn’t be awake then either. Even if he was, he wouldn’t leave his wife just to take Arabella riding, and Gabrielle was in no condition to ride, especially first thing in the morning.
Obviously his father couldn’t.
Which left him.
Curiously, he watched as Arabella’s open expressions changed from second to second, probably running through a similar list in her own mind.
“Very well,” she said finally, before turning on her heel.
Thomas sighed inwardly. He was fairly certain this was her first real spanking. Although her brother had supposedly disciplined her when her behavior warranted it, he strongly suspected Arabella had manipulated Isaac the way she had attempted to manipulate him. That she was out of sorts might not be very surprising, but he still felt sorry to see the back of her.
He’d much rather she’d allowed him to cosset her, firming the bond which discipline could bring instead of brokering a distance.
But he was also not the type to force his company upon a woman who didn’t wish it.
Perhaps it would be better to let her go her own way, let her temper cool.
As she passed through the doorway, pulling it behind her, she suddenly stopped and poked her head back in. Even with reddened eyes and a slightly splotchy complexion, strands of her hair undone and framing her face, she looked attractive.
“Just so you know,” she said, almost conversationally, looking him directly in the eye. “When I woke up this morning, I wanted to try using my mouth.”
The door slammed.
Thomas groaned and sat down very quickly as his knees buckled, thinking about the image she’d just thrust into his mind.
Of course, his mind immediately took an even darker avenue. Arabella’s face, tear-stained as it was now, her pouty lips wrapped around his shaft as she made up for her behavior following her spanking.
The woman was going to be the death of him.
******
Striding swiftly down the hallway, one ear out for Thomas’ study door, Arabella moved as quickly as she could. She was far too aware of the slick lips of her womanhood, sliding against each other with every step, as she hurried down the hall.
She moved quickly partly because she didn’t want to meet anyone and partly because she was in a rush to reach her bedchamber because… because she wanted to see.
The heavy fabric of her skirts brushing over her bottom as she moved was more than a little uncomfortable, but she did her best to ignore it. Not just because it was uncomfortable but because the heat had started to feel… well it had started to feel like something else. Something she was even more uncomfortable with.
Something which became harder to ignore with every step she took as the spot in the front of her body felt as though it was swelling, becoming insistent that she touch it.
Arabella had tried touching herself before. She’d never particularly enjoyed the act. Now she felt as though if she didn’t, she might faint from the need.
Very much like the need Thomas had roused in her last night.
I will not!
The thought was furious, frantic. Also futile.
She’d been so sure she wouldn’t be like her friends with their shocking reactions to being spanked. But here she was, highly aroused no matter how furious she was. How embarrassed. How pained.
Fortunately the few halls between Thomas’ study and her room were empty. As soon as she reached her room, she closed the door and locked it behind her. Then she rushed over to the door adjoining her bedroom with Thomas’ and locked that one as well for good measure.
She hadn’t heard Thomas leave his study, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t come to try and speak with her.
Fumbling with the laces of her skirt, she tried to walk to the mirror at the same time she undid them and nearly ended up going pot over tea kettle before she managed to right herself. Hurriedly, she shucked off her skirts and turned to see what she was sure must be a mottled and bruised backside.
That sight should take care of the ache between her legs.
But, to her shock, the horribly maligned bottom she expected to see did not appear. Instead, her two cheeks were dark pink—an almost pretty hue against her creamy skin. Unable to believe her eyes, Arabella reached down to touch the area.
Her skin was warm under her fingers, but as soft and satiny as ever. Sensitive too. Just like Thomas had made her sensitive last night when he’d spanked her… but that had been so different. It hadn’t hurt so much.
Yet the result was, unarguably, the same.
A low groan of frustration and resignation rose in Arabella’s throat.
Blast the man! How dare he make her feel this way?!
She glared at herself in the mirror.
It was only then that she realized she was still staring at her pink bottom, her fingers still caressing her warm skin.
There was no help for it. This needy itch between her legs wasn’t going to go anywhere unless she scratched it. The idle thought that she could surely return to Thomas’ study and demand he scratch it drifted through her head, but she couldn’t bear the satisfied smile which would surely adorn his face. The bloody man would not be rewarded for spanking her, blast it.
Shrugging off her jacket to make herself more comfortable, Arabella moved to the bed, undressing as she went. It felt like her skin was too tight and all of her clothing wasn’t helping the matter.
Her breasts were as achy as the rest of her and they felt swollen as well. She moaned as she ran her hands over them, squeezing them ge
ntly to help relieve some of the ache. The hard buds of her nipples pressed against her palms and she laid down on the bed on her back as she pinched the sensitive nubbins.
It didn’t feel as good as when Thomas had done so, but it didn’t feel bad either.
The press of her weight against her bottom made the sting of her spanking flare again, but to her consternation that did nothing but arouse her.
She couldn’t help but think about how it had felt to be over Thomas’ lap, completely helpless, totally at his mercy. Couldn’t help but remember how strong his hands were, and for some reason the memory of her spanking was actually arousing… perhaps because there was no actual pain accompanying it. Yet she found herself wriggling, trying to reignite as much heat in her bottom as she could.
One hand moved down her body, over her curls and between her legs.
There was a spot just at the very top of her womanhood, which Thomas had teased last night with his cock and then mercilessly pressed against with his body… Arabella let out a small cry as she found it with her fingertips. The slickness of her pussy made it easy for her to rub the spot, circling, moving her fingers back and forth as the need inside of her grew exponentially.
Thomas’ face appeared in her mind, his expression stern… she couldn’t possibly want him stern though, could she? Or had some part of her actually enjoyed losing today’s battle to him.
She groaned, pushing those thoughts from her mind as her need became more frantic.
It didn’t matter whether or not she should have enjoyed her spanking, the fact was she was now aroused and whatever she needed to think of to reach the explosive pleasure she’d experienced last night, she would do.
Which was why she found herself rubbing frantically between her legs as she pictured how she must have looked over Thomas’ lap, legs kicking, his hand smacking against her bottom… How it had felt to be so completely dominated by him, so helpless against his hands, so thoroughly chastised under his stern gaze…
With a little cry, Arabella quivered and jerked her hips upwards as she found completion. Her body pulsed with heat and pleasure, not as much as it had the night before, but certainly enough to soothe the ache and quench the well of need the spanking had created.
Gasping, she lay back against the bed, letting her hands fall to her sides as her body throbbed.
Staring up at the blue canopy draped over her bedframe, she firmed her lips.
“Well,” she said aloud, her voice soft but determined. “I’m certainly not going to allow him to do that again.”
It was far too dangerous. Not because she had hated it—although she certainly thought she had while he was spanking her—but because she couldn’t control her reactions to being spanked. Which meant Thomas would have the advantage any time he physically disciplined her.
Arabella had seen where that led to with her friends.
Not that they were at all subservient but still…
She willfully ignored the little voice in the back of her mind which attempted to remind her that part of her initial attraction to Thomas had been his strength of character and the surety that she would not be able to push him around. Arabella had wanted a husband like her friends had, a husband who could live up to the high standards her brothers’ example had set for her.
It seemed she had gotten what she’d wished for.
Chapter 10
After Arabella left his study, Thomas banged his head on his desk to clear it.
It required several attempts.
Somehow, with just one sentence, she'd managed to remove any small satisfaction from disciplining her. It hadn't been all that enjoyable to begin with, but he'd at least felt that he'd made it clear he wouldn't be manipulated and that insincere apologies meant nothing. The hard spanking had obviously been a bit of a shock to her, and he hadn't been nearly as harsh as he could have been.
Another five minutes and he could have turned her blushing cheeks a bright red.
Likely she didn't even realize how much he'd held back and so she couldn't properly appreciate it. Then again, considering what she and her friends had apparently been discussing, perhaps she did. Thomas had no way of knowing what they'd told her.
He knew that several of them had been punished much more harshly than he had just done so.
Immediately his mind went to the wedding present the Earl of Spencer had bestowed upon him—a present which he gave to each member of their little 'club' upon their marriage. With his business connections to India he had access to all sorts of little toys outside the usual run of things. Thomas had tucked the present away with his own box of implements he enjoyed using for exotic bed play—a supple leather tawse, several paddles of varying sizes, a small whip made of incredibly soft, supple leather strands, and a stinging ointment which he'd won in card game last year.
Wesley's gift had included several new ointments, including a lubricant, as well as an aphrodisiac, spring-loaded clips for nipples, and a set of rectal dilators. All of the gentlemen had recommended the dilators, several the clips (not everyone had used them apparently), but only Wesley had any actual experience with the aphrodisiac.
He'd grinned as he'd described how very worn out his wife would be the next day.
Something to consider, when Thomas was certain of his welcome in Arabella's bed. If she were too exhausted to get herself into trouble...
Shaking off his thoughts, which were only going to lead him down a path he didn't intend to trod this morning, Thomas stood. In his current state of mind he couldn't possibly concentrate on business or his correspondence; he might as well break his fast. The staff should be laying out the morning's selections by now.
Striding into the dining room, Thomas was pleased to see he was correct—and even more pleased to see his father was there. Not just because he was happy to see his father up and about, reading his newspaper the way he liked to do in the morning, but because his father was alone. As much as Thomas loved both of his parents and valued their opinions, there were some things a man just didn't feel comfortable discussion in front of his mother.
The viscount peered over the top of his paper to see who was joining him, and smiled happily when he saw his firstborn and heir. Then his smile slipped slightly, concern tinging his features. "Good morning, Thomas, what are you doing up and about this early?"
Thomas should have realized his father would be curious. After all, this was Thomas' first morning as a married man, yet he was at breakfast at his usual hour rather than abed with his new wife. That might not be shocking in some arranged marriages, but—despite not being a love match—it had been clear in the days leading up to the wedding that there was some affection on both sides.
Friendliness if nothing else. Desire as well, although Thomas didn't think they'd showcased the latter. But apparently his father had seen enough to not expect him at the breakfast table this morning.
"I went for my usual morning ride," he confessed. His father raised an eyebrow but didn't make any comments. Still, he must have picked up on some of Thomas' anxiety because rather than returning to his paper, he watched as Thomas filled his plate and came to sit beside him. One of the footmen poured the usual cup of coffee before stepping away and leaving them in the room alone. Not picking up his fork, Thomas looked at his father. Hesitated.
"Yes, son?" his father prodded him.
The viscount could be a stern taskmaster and he'd always had high expectations of his children, but he was also an inherently warm and kind man. They'd always known they could go to him for advice, for a chat, or even for a hug. He'd been a strict disciplinarian when the occasion called for it, and from some comments he'd let drop when Thomas had grown, he knew his father practiced discipline with his mother as well as his children.
Thomas had always known he'd follow in his father's footsteps in that manner, although he hadn't expected to have to do so the day after his wedding.
Especially when Arabella had been so well behaved last week.
; He couldn't help but feel as though he'd failed somehow, which stung a bit to admit to a man whom he never wanted to disappoint.
“Father…” His voice trailed off. Unlike his mother, who would prod at him, his father waited patiently. If Thomas decided to say nothing at all, his father would accept it and never say another word about it. But then he wouldn’t receive the benefit of his father’s advice either. Thomas cleared his throat.
Told his father about what had happened this morning.
Leaving Arabella to go for his morning ride.
How she’d followed him out—in split skirts and astride after saddling her own horse.
Their return.
Thomas glossed over details of what happened after their return, trusting his father to understand everything he didn’t say. He also kept his voice low and one ear out for footsteps in the hall. Although, even if someone did come to the door he didn’t think they would be able to hear him since he was being very careful to modulate his tones.
Not just because he didn’t want his family or the staff overhearing, but because he was now aware of Arabella’s eavesdropping tendencies.
After listening to Thomas’ summation, his father leaned back thoughtfully, setting the paper down beside his plate as he mulled over everything Thomas had just metaphorically laid at his feet. Anxious, Thomas watched his father’s expression but it remained fairly blank, giving no indication of what he was thinking.
Like his sons, Viscount Hood had black hair, but his had begun to silver and turn to salt and pepper. His features were similar to Thomas’, but more careworn with heavier lines. Still, Thomas thought that one day he would look very like his father and the thought pleased him. He just hoped he could also live up to his father’s legacy as a man and a viscount.
“You hadn’t told her that you expected her to cease her morning rides while in town?” Although his father’s voice was mild, without judgment, Thomas winced. He knew he’d made a mistake in that regard.
“No,” he said, letting his regret and acknowledgment of his wrongdoing fill his voice on that one word.