by Renee Rose
The count narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. "It would, wouldn't it? I might have to make some rules governing your behavior, though."
She felt herself flush. "As you wish, my lord," she said with a curtsy. She turned away and let her thoughts run to the memory of Tomi, his flirty grin and the words he had spoken: I would have married you if you'd had me. Second chances could be a gift.
* * *
Afternoon sex in their Florence bedroom would permanently be added to her list of most pleasurable moments of her life. Marco took his time, pleasuring her with his mouth, bringing her to climax several times before he ever entered her. She experienced for the first time the intense satisfaction of their simultaneous climaxes—her contracting muscles milking his length, drawing his seed up deeply within her.
As they lay there afterward, their bodies twined together, she was filled with gratitude. She sent up a silent prayer that on this special day, there in Florence where their marriage had fallen apart and come firmly together again, they would succeed in creating their first child.
And they did.
The End
Courting Celia
Renaissance Discipline Part Two
By
Renee Rose
©2012, 2016 by Blushing Books® and Renee Rose
Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Renee Rose
All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Rose, Renee
Courting Celia
eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-792-2
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images provided by BigStock Photo
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Chapter One
Celia was about to get her bare bottom spanked.
"You tell your sister to get her sassy little mouth in here," her twin sister's husband commanded from their room adjacent to hers.
She pre-empted her sister's summons, pushed the door adjoining their two rooms open, and poked her head through. "I heard." She flashed Lucia a wicked grin. She'd expected no less. She'd been hassling him endlessly to take them with him on an errand to see their father, which he had refused to do because she'd been disowned and she wasn't welcome there. Nevertheless, she nagged, teased, and prodded him mercilessly through supper, until he'd finally told her to get out of his sight.
If he were truly angry, she would be afraid, but she knew the count and his pleasures. She had joined her sister often enough in his bed. He enjoyed spanking, and a punishment that was more for play always had a happy ending between his sheets.
He sat on the edge of his bed with that quiet authority he always carried. "Celia," he said in his silky, dangerous voice.
"My lord," she said with a curtsy. Despite not being genuinely afraid, he still had the power to make her knees go weak with nervous anticipation.
"Come here."
She crossed the room to stand in front of him. Her sister stood nearby, fidgeting in sympathy. The count took pity on his wife. "Lucia, love, will you pour us some wine?" he suggested, giving her something to do. Turning to Celia, he said, "You have been a naughty girl."
"Yes, my lord."
"What happens to naughty girls?"
Her belly fluttered. "They get spanked, my lord."
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. He reached up and parted her robe to pinch her nipple – not too hard, just enough to make her gasp with the sensation of it. "You're not the slightest bit sorry, are you?"
She couldn't help it. Her own lips twitched in a smile. "I was just having fun, my lord. You know I don't really expect you to take me anywhere near Papa."
The count looked amused and nodded as if satisfied. "Bend over, Celia." He offered her his hand and guided her over his knee. Slowly, he dragged the hem of her robe up her thighs, then above her bottom.
She registered the change in temperature on her bare skin with a shiver. His hand caressed the backs of her thighs, up the sloping curve of her bottom where it make a few slow, light circles around her cheeks. She gave a whimpering sigh, aroused by his touch, trembling in anticipation of the pain that was to come.
He brought his hand down sharply, making her gasp. Another slap fell on the other cheek. He proceeded to spank her fast and hard, striking the same place many times until she cried out, then moving to another place.
Little cries escaped her lips, despite her efforts to keep them in. When he spanked the backs of her legs, she forgot completely about holding back.
His hand stilled, but her little gasps continued for a moment as she tried to regain control. The count pulled her up to standing. "Go and fetch me the big wooden spoon."
"Nooo," she whimpered. She had thought the spanking was over. He slapped the tender flesh on the back of her thigh and she sprang into action, crossing the room to get the spoon out of the drawer where he kept it.
Lucia sat curled up in a chair, drinking wine and looking anxious.
"Lucia, cara mia, come here."
Lucia went to him, holding her glass of wine, and Celia followed, standing respectfully back. He pulled his wife into his lap. "I know when I punish Celia it's like a punishment to you, too, isn't it?"
Lucia said nothing, just buried her face in his neck.
"Will you do something for me?"
Lucia nodded against his shoulder.
"Go back to your chair where I can see you and use your fingers to pleasure yourself."
Lucia's face broke into a slow, seductive smile and she stood up, a little blush on her cheeks. "As you wish, my lord."
Celia did not have the enjoyment of pleasuring herself, however. The count bent her back over his knee and started in with the wooden spoon, which was really large enough to be called a paddle. And paddle her, he did. He paddled long and hard until she wondered why on earth she had thought it would be funny to goad him into this. Tears of pain smarted her eyes.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry. Please, Marco. Forgive me. Ouch! Oh, please stop. Please, I beg you..." She started crying in earnest.
He stopped and rubbed her blazing, raw cheeks.
She whimpered – even his rubbing hurt now.
He must have felt her flinch, because he moved his hand to her back instead, stroking comfortingly.
The tears felt cleansing. Though she hadn't acknowledged or realized it until now, the thought of the count visiting her father had been twisting inside her. All her anger and resentment toward her father had been reignited, and her hope that the count would succeed in hiring away his right hand man, Tomi, was greater than she'd cared to admit.
As she recovered, still lying prostrate over the count's lap, she felt lighter and more relaxed than she had all week. She pushed herself with her hands to slide to kneel between his legs and give him the service she had given Tomi when she'd seen him in Florence a few weeks before.
"May I, my lord?"
His lips quirked into a smile. "You may."
She unfastened his trousers and freed his impressive length. She licked around the rim of the head of his manhood, then took him into her mouth. She sensed her sister's presence standing beside her and heard her moans as the count ministered to her pleasure with his fingers between her legs and his mouth sucking her nipple. She gripped the base of his shaft so it extended fully and drew it deeply into her mouth. His groa
ns and excited responses were all she needed to encourage her, and she sucked hard on the out-strokes, as if milking his sex. Then she stopped and, curling her lips over her teeth, she rubbed rapidly up and down right over the head of his sex, building the anticipation for when she drew his full length back into her mouth, which made him mutter, "Sweet Jesu..."
From the sound of it, Lucia's need had grown, too. Because they were trying to conceive a child, the count abruptly pulled out of Celia's mouth and shifted Lucia so she was straddling his lap, pulling her hips in tightly against his as he rocked them both to mutual climax. These were the moments in which she tried to melt into the background, not wanting to disturb the beauty of their intimacy by calling any attention to herself. It was pleasure enough to be the observer. They finished with the count kissing Lucia all over – her neck, her breasts, her face, her lips. She loved to watch him make love to her twin because his affection was quite evident.
"Come here, naughty girl," he beckoned her when he came up for breath.
Lucia smiled languorously and climbed off.
She walked to the count, who was still playing disciplinarian with her.
"Get up on your hands and knees," he ordered.
She obeyed, presenting her backside to him. He slapped her sore bottom several times, and she gasped and wiggled in response, the pain more arousing than anything else.
"Spread your knees," Marco ordered.
She widened her stance.
He licked into her from behind.
She cried out, already close to climax just from watching theirs. He swirled his tongue around her most sensitive nub, bringing her to the edge. She rocked her hips back as he continued to ply her with his tongue.
"Please," she whimpered.
He penetrated her with his fingers, sliding in and out deeply until she lost all control, squirting fluid as she climaxed, her hips bucking under his expert touch. He gave her bottom another slap when she finished and smiled at her fondly.
* * *
"What is it, the money? I will match whatever he's offering." Don Edoardo, his master of ten years, fumed, pacing about his office. Tomi had just told him he'd accepted the Count of Parma's offer to be steward of his vineyard and winery and would be leaving with him within the hour. Guilt churned in his belly.
"No, sir." He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. Hurting Don Edoardo was the one part of the deal that made him uncomfortable. The man had taken him on at age fourteen and taught him everything there was to know about winemaking. And when he left, Don Edoardo would have no one there who could help him, and he was getting on in age.
"Are you unhappy here?" Don Edoardo demanded. "Have I offended you in some way?"
"Of course not, sir." He took a deep breath. He owed him the truth, which probably wouldn't sit any better with him than any other idea he might have about why he was leaving.
"It's that I have interest in..." he swallowed, "...a certain redhead who is under the guardianship of the Duke."
Don Edoardo blanched.
He meant Celia, Don Edoardo's daughter, whom Don Edoardo had disowned when she disgraced herself by getting pregnant with the married Duke of Tuscany several months earlier. The mention of her still upset Don Edoardo, and Tomi's interest in her would not come as any welcome news, either. Don Edoardo had planned on a grand marriage for Celia, as successful a match as he had made for her twin, Lucia, who married the Count of Parma. If Celia had not been disgraced, Tomi would have been considered beneath her. Now that her situation had changed, he had aspirations of winning her affection and hand, though he did not know whether Don Edoardo or the Count of Parma would permit it.
Don Edoardo stared at him, as if in shock. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left the office, slamming the door behind him.
Tomi sighed. There was nothing else to be done. He went out where the count waited with his carriage and the now-empty wagons. He'd brought them loaded with his young wine to sell to Don Edoardo.
The count took in his countenance with sympathy. "He was angry?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Nothing can be done about that, I suppose," the count said. "Climb in, your trunks are already loaded."
Tomi climbed in and took a surreptitious look at his new employer, who was very much an enigma to him. The Count of Parma was a handsome man, perhaps eight or ten years older than him. A month earlier in Florence, the count's wife Lucia and her twin Celia had shocked him by cornering him at an event and using their sexual wiles to draw business information out of him. When the count then used that information to strike the deal with Don Edoardo for the sale of his wine, he'd acknowledged to Tomi that he'd known the information had come through him.
So did he send the twins to extract the information? And if so, did he know how they went about it? It was hard to imagine what sort of man would use his lady wife and her sister in that manner. But the most troubling question to him was where they'd learned that double-seduction act of theirs. Because it seemed quite practiced. And the idea that it was in the count's bed seemed plausible.
After several hours of polite travel conversation, Tomi finally dared a more difficult topic. "So is it strictly business to you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you don't mind competing so ruthlessly against Don Edoardo because it's strictly business?"
The count gave him a sidelong look and didn't answer for a moment. Then he said, "It's not strictly business, actually."
Tomi waited, but the count said no more.
"What is it, then?"
"I suppose there's a bit of revenge in the mix."
His breath caught in his throat. "For Celia?"
"Yes."
A flare of jealousy seared in his chest. His eyes narrowed, and he looked away, out the window of the carriage, lest he reveal his ire to his new master. He took a few deep breaths and sensed the count's speculative look on him. His face grew hot. He had a feeling that very little escaped the count's keen observation. But the count steered the conversation to wine-making and they spent the rest of the journey on that safer topic.
When they arrived in Parma, Tomi took in the beauty of old money. The count's property reflected the privilege of aristocracy. The villa featured old elegant stone arches and terracotta tiled walkways through beautifully planted gardens. There appeared to be some construction going on to the rear of the villa—an addition was being built, its stone and concrete footing were already laid.
The twins arrived to greet them, breathless as if they had run there. They were both laughing, their matching smiles brilliant. Lucia threw her arms around her husband's neck, and he kissed her fondly. To his surprise, Celia threw her arms around Tomi's neck, planting a quick peck on his cheek. The nagging jealousy that had built during the trip evaporated, and he grinned in pleasure. As soon as she pulled away, he wished she would do it again. His heart had quickened, and he felt a giddy happiness just being near her.
Celia. The little spitfire who had practiced her flirting skills to perfection with him from the tender age of eight. She'd been captivating to him even then. Her sister, Lucia, was far more reserved in greeting him, offering only her hand to be kissed, and darting her eyes nervously at her husband as he took it. That seemed to indicate guilt on her part, which made him wonder anew what the count knew.
"Tomi, we're so glad you accepted the count's offer," Lucia said with her dimpled smile. She had always been the more demure of the two sisters, although demure wasn't really the right word. They both were out-going, poised young ladies; it was just that Celia had a little bit more of the devil in her.
Celia looked at him with a wicked look now. "Was Papa furious?"
He sobered. Despite the difficulty Don Edoardo had caused Celia, he still regretted abandoning him. "Yes. It pained me to leave him."
Lucia looked sympathetic. "Of course it did, Tomi. I pity him the loss of you. But we, of course, are thrilled." She glanced nervously again at her husba
nd, as if gauging his reaction to her words and the level of her warmth. The count took notice and put an arm around her shoulders, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
"Pedro, would you show Tomi to his quarters so he can get refreshed?"
"Of course, my lord," bowed an elderly head servant who had been hovering unobtrusively nearby.
"When you return, perhaps Celia can give you a tour?" the count suggested.
"I'll be waiting here for you," she promised, flashing her heart-melting smile. Needing no further encouragement, he hurried to his new chambers to wash and change his clothes.
* * *
Celia leaned against the garden wall, watching as Tomi came down the stairs. "Have you missed me?" she flirted.
He gave her the devilish grin that made her knees go weak. "Always." He proffered his arm, and she took it, tugging him a bit in her excitement to give him the full tour.
She led him outside first, guessing he would be more interested in the vineyard and wine operations than in the layout of the villa. She chattered away, giving him more explanation than he probably wanted. She tried to rein in her enthusiasm and act more like a lady. The trouble was, Tomi reignited the pining little girl in her, who had always adored following him around. They walked the vineyard, and she explained the changes Lucia had made since she'd arrived and their progress with fighting the powdery white fungus that was on the leaves. When he praised their efforts, she felt absurdly pleased.
"We believe the soil isn't sandy enough – it takes a long time for the water to drain when we irrigate."
Tomi knelt and scooped the soil into his hand. He sniffed it. He even stuck out the tip of his tongue and tasted it.
"Yuck!" she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose and laughing.
He grinned up at her and stood, looking out on the horizon in all directions. "I agree it seems a bit too dense. We will have to look for some kind of supplement for it. Perhaps we can go for a ride together to scout out the area for something sandier."
