The Doctor's Little Ward

by Ava Sinclair

  This time, they came together, and Simon realized he could not have found a woman more perfect for him. She was giving herself to him with total submission, so totally open, so accommodating, as if her body were made for no other purpose than to give and receive pleasure.

  He was reluctant to remove himself from her, but he knew he had to. When he was finally soft enough to slide out, his sated cock was trailed by a pearly pink mixture of his seed and her virgin blood.

  Abigail sat up, looking between her legs as it pooled on the bedcovers.

  “Will I bleed every time?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “Just once. And it will never hurt again.”

  She looked at him. “But it didn’t hurt. I mean, it did, but in a way that…” Her eyes filled with wonder. “It was a good hurt, the best kind of hurt. Is it wrong to say I loved it, and that I would let you hurt me again?”

  Simon laughed. “Not at all,” he said. “In fact, your statement shows an understanding that far surpasses that of most women. I’m proud of you.”

  She dropped her eyes. “I suppose it is a small achievement for a woman who lacks an education.”

  “Abigail…” He tipped her face up until she was looking at him. “As I said, I will hire a tutor to teach you anything you like. But when it comes to the carnal arts, I will be your only instructor. And I plan lesson after lesson… after lesson.”

  His lips found hers then, and they lay down together, man and wife.

  Chapter Ten: The Country Manor

  “Have you ever seen anything like it?” Simon smiled as he looked over at Abigail, whose eyes were wide with wonder.

  “No. Never in my life!” She was staring in awe at the huge house that could now be seen at the end of a tree-lined drive.

  “This is the surprise I was telling you about,” he revealed. “We’ve been invited here as the guests of my friend Hugh Brownlow and his wife Lily.”

  When Abigail suddenly looked uncomfortable, he reached over and took her hand. “What’s wrong, my little one?”

  “My dress,” she said. Her husband had insisted she wear a particularly childish frock on this day, and an extra-large bow in her hair. “I know this is how I dress at home. But here, they’ll laugh at me. It will be just as it was with your aunt and cousin.” Her eyes filled with panic. “No, papa. Please. Don’t let them see me like this.”

  “Abigail,” he said gently. “Calm yourself. I once made the unwitting mistake of exposing you to the scorn of others, and learned my lesson. Do you honestly think I would do such a thing again?”

  She thought about this, remembering Simon’s regret over how she’d been treated by his aunt and cousin, and shook her head. “No,” she said.

  They spoke no more on her apparel, but the niggling uncertainty remained for Abigail as they drew closer to the huge stone house, which was even more elegant and impressive than she could have imagined.

  The gardens were manicured with all sorts of flowering trees and topiary hedges. The circular drive took them in front of stone steps, where a footman appeared to help them from the coach and a butler greeted them at the door. A few moments later, Hugh Brownlow entered the foyer, smiling broadly.

  Abigail looked up shyly as Simon introduced her, fearful of the odd look she thought the handsome blond gentleman would give her upon seeing her style of dress. But if he thought it unusual, he said nothing.

  “I told my wife Lily we were having company. She’s still in the nursery, though. Would you like to meet her, Abigail?”

  “Yes, please.”

  So, Abigail thought, they have a child. Her insecurity returned. Abigail already had an image of refined motherly woman who would—like her husband—be too polite to make mention of her childish dress.

  Hugh Brownlow walked ahead of Simon, discussing his family’s banking interests as they made their way up the winding staircase. At the end of the long hall at the top, their host opened the door to the most elaborate nursery Abigail had ever seen. But she quickly noticed that the crib and other childish furniture were—like hers—scaled for an adult. And then a small brunette woman who’d been seated on the floor ran over to Hugh and hugged him tightly. Abigail could not help but stare; she was also dressed like a child. When she looked at her husband with questioning eyes, Simon smiled down at her.

  “This is the other surprise—the biggest one,” he explained. “Hugh and Lily live as we do, my dear. And we aren’t the only ones. There are others, and this weekend you will get a chance to meet them.”

  Abigail could not stop the tears from coming to her eyes. Her one fear had been that her living as Simon’s ward would hamper him socially. She’d been concerned about how she would move between both worlds. But now here was a world where they could be themselves.

  “Hello.” Lily smiled as she spoke. “Would you like to go to the parlor? I have a dollhouse there, and Tibbins will bring sweets for us if I tell him he has to.” She paused. “He’s the butler, so I can tell him what to do.”

  “Now, Lily,” Hugh scolded. “Even if Tibbins is the butler, you will behave respectfully. What have I told you about being bossy?”

  “Not to do it?”

  “That’s right,” he said. Hugh turned to his guests. “Forgive me, but we’ve had a bit of a problem with moodiness lately. I’d hoped a good cleansing regimen and a spanking would help, but if it keeps up then I may have to resort to harsher measures.” He looked back at Lily. “And my little darling doesn’t want that, does she?”

  “No, father,” his wife replied.

  “No, indeed.” Hugh motioned for them to follow him downstairs. The parlor was as grand as any other room, with windows affording a pleasant view of the gardens. A large dollhouse sat on a low table. It was an exact replica of the manor house.

  “My daddy had it made for me. In France,” Lily told Abigail. “It cost a lot of money.”

  “It’s lovely,” Abigail said.

  “My daddy says you just married Dr. Abbott.”

  “Yes,” Abigail smiled. “Just yesterday.”

  The brunette regarded her. “He’s my doctor.” She picked up a piece of furniture out of the house. “He’s nice. But my daddy says doctors don’t make a lot of money.”

  Abigail frowned. “I don’t care how much money he makes,” she said.

  “I’ve been to your house,” Lily said. “Your papa saw me there.”

  “He often sees patients there,” Abigail noted.

  “Your house is very small. That means you’re poor.” The brunette smirked and Abigail flushed. She felt angry and disappointed. The men were chatting congenially nearby, but her companion was being petty and insulting.

  “I don’t think I want to talk to you.” Abigail turned away and sat in a chair across the room as Lily shrugged and turned back to the dollhouse. Hugh Brownlow was the first to notice that Abigail had isolated herself.

  “Is something wrong, young lady?”

  “Nothing,” Abigail lied. “I just don’t feel much like socializing.”

  Her host’s eyes narrowed. “Lily,” he called. “Is there some reason that your guest doesn’t want to play?”

  “I don’t know,” the brunette said, tossing her hair. “She’s probably just jealous because I pointed out that her house is small and ours is big.”

  Hugh rose from his chair and took his childlike wife by the arm. “Lily, what has gotten into you? Why are you so moody and unpleasant lately?”

  “I’m not unpleasant!” Lily said. “You’re just mean!”

  “Mean, am I?” Hugh turned to Abigail. “Excuse me, my dear. But it seems that someone needs a lesson in comportment.”

  Abigail watched, shocked, as their host pulled his wife to a nearby chair and flipped her over his knee. Worried, she looked to her husband, but Simon merely raised an eyebrow at her.

  Lily was sobbing even before Hugh bared her bottom, pulling down her very fine satin drawers and leaving them puddled mid-thigh to frame the lower portion of
her bottom, which he began to spank in earnest.

  “No, no, no, no, daddy!” The brunette was wailing now, her face skewed prettily into a mask of contrition. As the banker continued spanking his wife, her kicking legs worked the satin undergarment down her legs until it slid off her feet to land on the floor. At this point, Hugh Brownlow turned his disciplinary attention to the top of his wife’s thighs, peppering them with hard spanks until they were nearly as red as her bottom.

  The room was quiet save for Lily’s sobs by the time he’d finished.

  “Tibbins?” Hugh called.

  “Sir?”

  Abigail looked over, surprised that the man was still in the room. She instantly felt a rush of sympathy for Lily, despite her behavior, as she recalled the first time Simon had spanked her in mixed company.

  “Would you mind fetching the box from the table in my bedchamber?”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  The butler departed, and Hugh turned his attention toward his guests.

  “I apologize for this,” he said, nodding at the small woman who remained draped and sobbing over his lap. “But Lily knows quite well that such rudeness is not to be tolerated. If she is to disobey publicly, then she can bear the consequence of being corrected publicly both with a sound spanking and a punishment plugging.”

  “A punishment plugging? Now? Here?” The sobbing woman turned to look over her shoulder. “Oh, please, no… Not in front of Dr. Abbott and his wife. I’ll die, daddy! I’ll die of humiliation!”

  “You won’t die, silly.” Hugh patted her back dismissively. “No one ever died of a good thrashing and plugging. Besides, a bit of humiliation will give you a taste of the embarrassment I feel when my little Lily chooses to disappoint me so.”

  This rebuke resulted in a gale of fresh tears, and Abigail got the impression that for Lily, Hugh’s disapproval was more painful than the spanking. She could relate to this; the thought of disappointing Simon was a terrible one.

  It wasn’t long before the butler reentered the room, carrying a wooden box. Placing it on the table by the sofa, he opened it. Abigail noted that inside were a number of plugs of graduated size similar to what Simon had put in her bottom the day of her cleansing. But these were larger, and it was the largest that their host now held up for the butler, who was unscrewing a pot of some sort of ointment.

  “This particular mixture is both a lubricant and a temporary irritant,” Hugh said, dipping the plug into the greasy ointment. “My naughty little one will soon find her bottom as hot and sore on the inside as it is on the outside.”

  He stood and led Lily over to another chair, pushing her over the arm as he ordered her to spread her legs.

  Abigail wanted to look away, but found she could not. Hugh was pulling aside one of Lily’s plump punished cheeks now and pushing the tip of the plug into the tight crinkled hole, which slowly gave way to the pressure. It did not seem possible for her bottom to be able to take such a large plug, but Lily’s bottom accepted it by degrees until it was in place with only the four-inch flange showing. The round disc of the flange kept Lily’s cheeks spread. And below, Abigail noted, the shaven pussy was also spread and glistening.

  She was puzzled. How could the young woman who stood crying now and wagging her bottom back and forth be aroused by such discomfort? It was obvious that the irritation from the plug was taking effect, but underneath the flange, her pussy was engorged, the petals of flesh prominent from between the pale bare outer labia.

  Abigail finally looked away.

  “Papa,” she said. “I feel sorry for her.”

  “It’s none of our business,” he said quietly.

  She looked up at him. “Would you ever do that to me?”

  Simon’s handsome face grew serious. “Oh, yes, my dear. I absolutely would.”

  Oh, why did her pussy clench so hard at these words? Abigail felt ashamed. She looked back at Lily and realized with sudden horror that in addition to pity and fear, she was aroused as well. She imagined being over Simon’s knee, with others watching. She glanced up then to see Tibbins the butler studying her, as if gauging her reaction. Abigail blushed deeply and looked away.

  “You can go play with the dollhouse now,” Hugh said.

  “No, thank you,” Abigail replied. As unkind as Lily had been, she did not think it right to play with the dollhouse alone. But Hugh insisted, and with an arch look from Simon, she went over and studied the elaborate little structure, admiring each tiny piece of perfectly crafted furniture.

  Soon another couple arrived, and it felt surreal to see another man—Sir Winstead and his wife Charlotte—introduced as Lily stood bent over in the corner, her bottom on display.

  “Someone’s been bad,” Lady Charlotte Winstead remarked. Like the two other women, she was dressed in a childish dress, but one far finer even than Lily’s.

  Little Lady Charlotte—as her husband called her—was far more pleasant than Lily. So was Ruby Abernathy, who showed up later with her wealthy landowner Russell. After some time, Hugh removed the plug from his wife’s still red bottom and returned her to the others with a kiss and a warning to behave.

  Lily immediately apologized to Abigail, who graciously accepted. Afterwards, it was as if the whole incident never had happened. No one mentioned it, and Abigail got the impression that what occurred was not out of the ordinary for the other visitors.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in companionable pleasantness. Abigail found herself enjoying the company of other women who lived as she did. It was instructive, and it seemed that each couple lived their own curious arrangement in a different way. Lily lived as Hugh Brownlow’s little girl at home, but was a conventional wife when they traveled. But due to her husband’s prominence, Lady Charlotte was only able to indulge her inner child in the privacy of their chambers or whenever they came to visit Hugh and Lily. Ruby had never married Russell, but he adopted her as his ward and they enjoyed a chaste father/daughter-type relationship that suited their age difference, one that she said suited his need to nurture and guide, while indulging her deep need for boundaries and care.

  Later that evening after a lovely dinner, Abigail and Simon were shown up to a beautiful room.

  “And how did my little treasure like making new friends?” Simon asked as they were getting ready to retire.

  “Very much,” she replied happily. “They were all agreeable, except… well, except for Lily, but only at the beginning. She was nice after…” Her voice trailed off.

  “You mean after her punishment?” Simon asked. “How did it make you feel, watching it?”

  Abigail weighed her response. “I felt sorry for her,” she said. “And I felt scared when you said you’d do such a thing to me. But I also felt…” She flushed, halting a moment. “But then I felt like she was quite lucky, as I am, to have a papa who loves her so much that he makes her mind.”

  “You’re very astute, Abigail,” Simon said. “Hugh is ardently devoted to Lily. I’ve been her doctor for quite some time.”

  “She told me,” Abigail said with a laugh. “She also said our house was very small.”

  “Well, compared to Brownlow Manor, it is.” He gave her a wink. “But it is home, for now.”

  “For now?”

  He changed the subject then. “Abigail, do you remember what I said last night?”

  “I remember more of what you did.”

  He reached under her skirt, sliding his hand up, up through the back opening of her bloomers, his fingers delving into the cleft of her bottom. “Do you remember when I told you I would train your bottom to accept my cock?”

  She blushed deeply and nodded.

  “Our host gave us a gift today—a wedding gift. Would you like to open it?”

  He walked over to the highboy and took down a package. Abigail took it from him and sat down in a nearby chair. Setting the package in her lap, she carefully undid the bow and the wrapping. Inside was a wooden box. She swallowed nervously, knowing what was in the b
ox even before she lifted the lid.

  There were four carved, polished mahogany plugs—almost identical to the plugs their host had the butler fetch before he punished Lily. Abigail stared at them.

  “You’re really going to put these in… my bottom?”

  “I’ll only put the very largest in if you’re bad,” he said. “The others are for training. I’ll put them in and leave them in. This will stretch your back passage so that when it is time for you to accept my cock, it will not cause you discomfort.”

  She continued to stare at the plugs. “But if my bottom is stretched, will it close?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Just as your sweet pussy closes after I use it, so will your bottom. But your pussy was made for my cock. Your bottom must be trained.” He paused. “Are you ready?”

  “So soon?” she asked, her heart pounding.

  “My dear,” he replied. “Was the first time you got one so entirely unpleasant?”

  Abigail thought back to the day of the cleansing and realized that it had not been unpleasant, not with papa touching her. He’d do it again, only this time there would be no tummy medicine to worry about.

  He was already helping her to her feet, and she stood obediently as he undressed her. When she was left in only her stockings, he took her to the bed and ordered her to lean over it.

  It was the same position Lily had been in, and Abigail closed her eyes, realizing that this thought was already making her pussy clench, that being so open and vulnerable to anything Simon wanted was highly arousing.

  She saw him take the smallest plug from the box and walk over. He dragged the plug up and down through her slit, commenting on the wetness already collecting there.

  “So slick,” he said. “Look at you. My eager little wanton.”

  “Papa…”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Don’t be ashamed. Your honest passion is a wonderful gift to me.” He pressed the tip of the plug against her clitoris, and she shuddered and moaned.