“What is it?” Brigit asked, eagerly jumping to her feet.
“Japanese rope bondage. It’s very beautiful and very erotic. I learned a few knots that I’ve been waiting to practice. Well?”
“My body is yours, my love. Show me your new skill,” Brigit begged, her excitement growing as she watched him carefully unravel the cord and then fold it in half to make a loop. He then coiled both ends so he could keep control of the tension as he bound her. Brigit gasped as he placed the rope to the back of her neck and then slowly drew it to the front of her body, crossing it over her breasts. He pulled the ends underneath the panting mounds and around her back, where he then threaded both rope ends under the original loop. Pulling down gently, her breasts were lifted! He then drew the ends down to between her bottom cheeks, pulling to keep her breasts lifted as he strung the ends between her legs, parting her swollen lips with the rope. Gerard glanced at her face. Brigit was shivering with excitement! Pleased, he continued his artwork upon her pale flesh.
The two ends where drawn up over her stomach and threaded through the ‘v’ between her breasts, forcing her vulva to spread wider and the rope to penetrate the sensitive crack of her backend, rubbing delightfully against her bottom hole. He paused, and with an evil grin, produced a small wooden device.
“Where have you been hiding these things, husband? What is that for?”
“As you know, Dr. Freud has a theory that we are stimulated most carnally by anal penetration. This is a dilator. It goes into your bottom.”
“Will it hurt?” Brigit asked.
“No, but it will give you some new sensations.”
She held her breath as he bent her partially trussed body over his raised knee and gently inserted his finger deep into her wetness, bring its moisture up to lubricate her winking entrance. Satisfied that she was ready, he slowly pressed the plug into her rosy hole after pushing aside the rope. She whimpered, unaccustomed to this type of penetration, and forced herself to relax under his hand. This was her Gerard, the man she trusted with every part of her being. She knew he would never cause her harm.
When she had relaxed, he replaced the ropes between her bottom, forcing the plug to stay in place. Standing her once again, he watched as she fidgeted to accept the unusual invasion. Satisfied, he returned to the roping. Tightening the ropes by pulling them down through the ‘v’ of her breasts, he split them once again and drew them behind her back. Step by step, he soon had a diamond pattern over her abdomen and her wrists bound to her sides. Brigit groaned as the bonds tightened and glided over her restrained body, the friction changing each time she moved, touching one erotic zone after another. In a final swoop, Gerard laid her upon the bed and secured the rope ends to the posts. Brigit was completely captive to his mercies and became a slave to his mouth and tongue.
Chapter Nine
Ryan yawned, stretching his arms over his head as he slowly awoke from his slumber. He had spent a good part of the evening with Aryanna, amused by her insistence on reading aloud to him. The spanking had apparently renewed her desire to please him, and he found her efforts charming… albeit exhausting.
He rose, glancing through the window. He squinted, seeing a pale haired girl twirling in the middle of the rose garden, her hands filled with flowers. A smile set over his face. There was something angelic about the woman, almost ethereal. It was no wonder his mother liked her… they were very much alike. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Time to get moving. He was to meet with his parents for dinner that evening and was wondering how to break the news to Aryanna. The presence of the ex-headmistress was going to terrify her. His mother had assured him that all would be well, but he had his doubts. He watched Aryanna for a while longer, hoping the drought would not soon destroy the flowers that she loved to gather. He chuckled, realizing that little things such as flowers and butterflies never caught his attention until the Russian girl pranced into his life.
Quickly washing up and changing, Ryan headed downstairs to prepare breakfast. To his surprise, the table was dressed and laden with food and flowers. He poured himself a cup of tea and walked outside. The sun blazed down upon him, and he frowned. It was early morning yet already uncomfortably warm outside. Droughts were not unheard of in his country but usually lasted no more than two weeks. This one, however, had been continuing for over a month. If it continued, many people would suffer, and he worried as to how to help them prepare. He watched as Aryanna played freely in the flower bed. He would present the problem to her, instinctively knowing that she, after living in Russia, would most understand and eagerly help people whose lives were threatened by the weather.
“Ary? Come inside, dear. It's time to eat.”
“Good morning, Lord Ryan!” Aryanna called out pleasantly, running to greet him with a strong hug and kiss on the chin. She handed him the fistful of flowers. “I pick for you.”
“You aren't going to leave any in the garden at this rate, dove,” he chuckled, sniffing the bouquet. “But I thank you. Usually, it is the man who brings flowers to the woman.”
“Flowers pretty. Smell nice. Except,” she frowned, showing him a finger, “some make hurt.”
“Got pricked by a thorn? Poor child,” Ryan smiled, kissing the injured digit. He wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders and led her inside, pulling the chair out for her at the table. “Please sit. No, allow me to serve you.”
Aryanna blushed shyly as he praised her cooking and placed her flowers in a vase to display where all could see. He ate heartily, chatting about the village and how hot it was getting. Aryanna asked questions that surprised him, voicing her immediate concern for the townspeople and how they might be able to help them. Immensely pleased, Ryan listened carefully to her ideas and agreed wholeheartedly. She had suggested a massive canning campaign to supplement the loss of fresh fruit and vegetables in the event the crops were affected. She told him that she had much experience with preserving food and that she had experienced many bad seasons back in her country of Russia.
“Excellent thoughts, dove. Would you have me shop for you today and perhaps start this service?” Aryanna nodded eagerly, glad to be of help and prove her value. He leaned back in his chair, his face growing serious. “I also need to discuss something with you. Tonight, Papa and Mama wish us to come for the evening meal.”
“I like Ryan's mama and papa! I go?” She sounded excited.
“Yes, you are to go with me. I need to tell you something, and I want you to listen to me carefully. Promise?”
“Yes, Ryan. Promise.” She crossed her heart in an innocent gesture that made his heart melt.
“Papa and Mama are reformers, like I am. You know that, correct?”
“Reformers good. Yes. Like reformers.”
“They are reforming a girl from the academy. I need you to do your best to show how good you can be. Can you do that?”
“Aryanna… I am not incorrigible anymore. Lord Ryan… You said I am good.” Aryanna looked confused.
“They are reforming Eliza. Eliza Woods.”
Aryanna's face whitened, and panic jutted across her features. Ryan reached over and touched her hand. “My precious darling, I promise she will not hurt you. I will not allow her to and neither will Papa or Mama.”
“I do not want to see Headmistress.” Aryanna's eyes filled with fearful tears. “Please, Lord Ryan…”
“I have a present for you. She will help you if you get scared,” Ryan said quickly, handing her a parcel wrapped in brown paper. With a single tear dripping down her cheek, Aryanna slowly unwrapped it. She gasped, lifting the beautiful doll to eye level before gazing at him.
“For me?”
“For you, sweet love. Why are you crying?” Ryan asked, confused.
Aryanna squeezed the doll tightly to her chest, tears pouring down her face. “When I was little girl, my papa bought me doll like this. She was lost when I come here, to your country. I miss her. “
Ryan felt his own eyes watering, thinking of his
father's wisdom. Little gestures, much loyalty, the earl would say. Aryanna flung herself into Ryan's arms, kissing him all over his face like an excited child. He pulled her onto his lap and held her snugly, never wanting to let her go.
“Ary? Would you like to dress up like a big girl tonight?” he suddenly asked, an idea popping into his head.
“I dress how reformer tell me,” Aryanna answered, leaning into his shoulder.
“I think the occasion calls for you being a big girl tonight. I think that will help you with being around Eliza. Papa and Mama will make her dress as a little girl.”
“Headmistress in children clothes?” Aryanna looked both confused and amazed.
Ryan brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Yes, dearest, with pigtails and pinafores. Come, let's go to the village and buy you a grown woman's dress.”
Aryanna could not contain her excitement as she whirled in front of him in the lacy tailored summer dress with short puffy sleeves and a large matching hat. She looked like a lady! He purchased boots with short heels as well, grinning as she showed off her new outfit to her new friend, Hillary, the woman she had met the previous day who was, besides being the butcher's wife, the local schoolteacher.
“How lovely are you, Miss Aryanna! Lord Ryan, how good to see you again so soon.”
“Madam,” he tipped his hat in a small, respectful bow. “I apologize that your time with Miss Ary was interrupted so abruptly yesterday. She had me worried with her sudden absence.”
“I understand, sir. She is a beautiful creature, and so sweet.”
“Yes, she is. I have a favor to ask of you, Mistress. She has taken quite a liking to you, and I was wondering if, perhaps, you would consider assisting her on her conversational and mannerisms. I am not duly equipped to instruct a young lady on the art of being a lady.”
“I am most flattered, Your Lordship,” Hillary blushed. “I would be honored to instruct her. She has a natural grace and charm that only needs refinement.”
“I don't wish her to become a lady of the court, just one to allow her confidence. She has an awkward engagement this evening, and I want her to be comfortable and feel in control.”
“I will do what I can. Thank you, sir, for the faith you show in me.” Hillary tipped her chin respectfully. With a chaste kiss to Aryanna's forehead, Ryan left her in the confident care of the lady of the house.
* * *
Brigit donned a severe looking black dress with a matching apron, pulled her hair into a tight bun, and prepared herself to deal with the task of teaching Eliza about obedience. Gerard grinned, watching her lazily from his side of the bed.
“You look like you are preparing for quite a day, my lady.”
“While you are out gallivanting the fields and playing farmer, I have my work cut out for me. I will not have that girl terrorizing our future daughter tonight.”
“So you are already seeing Ryan married to that little wench, hmm?” Gerard asked humorously. Brigit glared at him, placing her hands on her hips.
“Don't you go calling that child names. She…”
“I called you a wench for years, and you know exactly what I refer too. Why are you so touchy this beautiful morning?” he reprimanded gently, sitting up and crossing his arms.
“I apologize. I'm a wee bit anxious. I've never dealt with a woman grown before, and if she resists me…”
“Martha will be there to help. You will do fine, my love. You've been trained by the best.”
“This is true. Be careful as you ride. You aren't taking that hideous machine out to the fields, are you? I loathe that beast.”
“No,” Gerard laughed. “The motor would frighten the herd animals. No, we'll stay modernly old-fashioned for a while yet. Kiss me, wife.”
Brigit leaned over to obey, squealing as he caught her in his arms and pulled her across his lap to deliver several hard swats to her cloth covered bottom.
“That's what you get for your attitude this morning. Did you have fun last night?”
“Oh yes, it was amazing!” Brigit giggled, standing to her feet and fixing her hair. “I never thought being restrained in such a manner could tantalize one's body so greatly. And that… plug…”
“Perhaps next time we try something a little more risqué?” Gerard asked. Brigit giggled again and hurried out of the room, her nervousness gone. Gerard always knew what to do to get her back on track and focused.
She ventured to the nursery to find Martha sitting in the rocking chair, eyes closed to the warm sunshine that reflected through the glass window. She touched the old woman's arm to rouse her.
“Have you been here all night?”
“Yes, madam. I was concerned that little Eliza would attempt escape. She is not fond of you,” Martha smiled. Brigit chuckled, patting the strong shoulder.
“I was not fond of you either, when we met. And you still frighten me a tad,” Brigit admitted with a grin.
“With good reason, Lady. We had our ups and downs when you were being trained. But that is the past. This one… she is difficult.”
“Tell me what you have learned,” Brigit asked, sitting across from the old woman. She listened careful, nodding as pertinent bits of information were brought to her attention. “Is she diapered?”
“Yes, ma'am. That was His Lordship’s orders for the evening routine. She is still quite embarrassed by the procedure.”
“She will be more embarrassed by the time we are finished with her this morning. Please go prepare the syringes.”
Martha nodded, leaving the room to obey. Brigit took her place in the rocker, studying the sleeping woman as she curled in the cradle. Martha had tucked the long brown hair into a nightcap and dressed her in an oversized sleeping sack. Her hands were covered with soft, white cotton mittens, tied with pink ribbon. Brigit suppressed a laugh, remembering that it was Martha's favorite trick to keep a young lady from touching her 'naughty places'. In her sleep, Eliza's face was sweet, her lips a natural rose and fairly plump. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, offering a generous mouthful for any man to enjoy. Next to the girl was an empty water bottle. Brigit removed it from the bassinet and reached in to gently caress Eliza's cheeks to awaken her.
“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?” Brigit asked softly as Eliza's eyes opened with a startled look.
“I… uh… yes, Lady Remington.”
“It appears that your memory requires some coaxing. You must call me Mama when you are being reformed.”
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but you are not my mother!” Eliza sat up angrily, grabbing the edges of the swinging cradle. “I am not a child… OW!”
Brigit pointed her finger in Eliza's face, her palm slinging from the slap. “I thought I had made myself clear the last time you forced me to strike you. You will mind your tone with me, young lady. I will not have you speak to any adult in that manner. Am I understood?”
Eliza held her cloth covered hand over the cheek that had felt Brigit's palm, slowly nodding. Brigit then reached into the cradle to untie the mittens and unbutton the sack. Eliza's face burned as the woman slowly disrobed her, leaving her in nothing but her cloth diaper. She began to climb out but was held back by Brigit's hand.
“No, darling. You must relieve yourself before you are permitted to come onto the floor.”
“But, Lord… Papa lets me use the water closet!”
“I am not Papa. Go on, now. Your bodily functions are nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Lady… Mama, please!” Eliza begged, her bladder full and aching for relief. “I'm a big girl, I really can…”
Brigit's expression told the young woman that the tall, slender redhead was not one to be trifled with. Unable to control herself any longer, Eliza emptied her bladder into the thick, wadded cloth bunched between her legs. Nodding with satisfaction, Brigit helped the girl out of the basket and led her to the bathing area. Martha sat upon a chair, a towel over her lap and sleeves rolled high. Next to her was a large basin
filled with sudsy water and a syringe with a rubber bulb rested at its side. Eliza balked, recognizing the equipment. She began to shake her head, backing towards the door.
“Where are you going, Eliza?” Brigit asked, snatching her wrist and pulling her back into the room.
“I am not going to subject myself to that!” Eliza screeched, shocked by the solid grip of Brigit's seemingly delicate hand.
“You will cooperate in what Mama feels is best for you. I can only assume that this childish temperament means that you are uncomfortable. Nanny tells me that you have not been eating as you should, nor do you enjoy your daily constitutions. Should you fail to cooperate with me, I am sure Papa would be more than happy to administer this cleansing.”
Eliza stared at her incredulously, not knowing how to respond. Taking her silence as agreement to cooperate, the Lady Remington rolled up her own sleeves and reached to unpin the soiled cloth from around Eliza's lower parts. Eliza closed her eyes, trying to forget that she was being scrutinized by the elegant woman before her. She tried to remind herself that Brigit had been through this training as well, but it did not help ease her discomfort.
“You may rest across the towel on Martha's lap. Well, now, look at these bruises. A spoon?” Brigit asked as Martha positioned Eliza with her hands on the floor and her bare bottom high in the air, unconcerned with the mortification Eliza was experiencing as her cheeks were spread wide apart, exposing her dusky hole.
“Stop your kicking, girl. You behave as though you've never had this done before,” Martha scolded, smacking the wriggling cheeks harshly. Eliza broke into a loud sob, her humiliation building as Brigit stood stoically, watching her response. Martha scooped up a dab of lard and gently rubbed it against Eliza's winking bottom hole, ignoring the protests as she pressed her thick finger past the tight ring. Eliza yelled her objection as Martha carefully lubed both her insides and the outside.
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