His Colonial Rose
Page 14
On the ground floor, there was a dining room, a study, a library and two reception rooms, one a morning room and the other a withdrawing room. Below stairs, there were the usual kitchens and sculleries, boot room, silver room, butler's pantry and housekeeper's sitting room. Up on the second floor, were all the guest's bedrooms and above that were the servant quarters, where Rose was now heading. She had decided that if she was to be mistress of so very many servants, then she would ensure that all those who served her should live in rooms as pleasant and comfortable as she could make them.
When Rose pushed open a bedroom door on the women's corridor, she froze with shock.
There was no covering on the wooden floorboards; the two narrow beds had metal bed ends. Each bed was covered over with a couple of grey blankets but with no linen sheets. The thin pillow placed on each bed, had a threadbare, plain white cotton cover on it. There were wooden pegs on the back of the door and a battered chest of drawers stood in the corner. There was no heat source in any of the rooms. Rose closed the door and moved along the corridor to the next room. She found that all of the rooms were exactly the same.
Incensed and quite forgetting about the breakfast debacle, Rose charged down the stairs looking for her husband.
She found Benedict in his study. Whirling inside and all but slamming the door behind her, Rose launched into an impassioned diatribe against Benedict and his family for consigning their servants to such cold and austere rooms. At first, Benedict thought that his wife had come to apologize for her earlier behaviour but no, now she was berating him about his servant's bedrooms!
Benedict simmered and steamed until his lid metaphorically 'blew off'.
"Enough!" he roared and crossed the room taking a firm hold of Rose as he towed her to his desk. Rose's eyes grew wide and she stared at him as if he had developed another head!
"You will bend yourself across my desk and grasp the far side until I give you leave to let go! Do you understand me, madam?" Rose blinked, how did this situation suddenly come into being?
"But..." she said, quailing.
"No! You do not get to speak—or indeed shout at me—further! Over my desk, right now I say!" Benedict enunciated each and every word clearly.
Rose had always thought that she would run from Benedict should he command her to do something of this nature.
However, now that he was here in the actual flesh, Rose found herself compelled to obey her husband. He was obviously absolutely livid with her and all over that silly tea throwing lark at breakfast. It was all too ridiculous for words!
Trembling nervously, Rose leant across the desk as her husband demanded and stretched her arms out over the polished wood to hold onto the other side of the desk edge. Unfortunately, this left her standing upon tip toe, which was a most uncomfortable position to be in.
Benedict was cross with Rose but most of his anger was bluff so that she would obey him. It would do no good for her to sense weakness within him now or at any future date or his discipline would be doomed to failure.
His father's voice came back to him, 'with horses as with women, start as you mean to go on, oh and Benedict… never, ever let either horse or women sense any weakness within you'.
"Your behaviour at breakfast was atrocious and intolerable and your shrieking insults now have sealed your fate, madam. I am forced to teach you yet another lesson in manners. Since this is a repeated lesson, we will move onto the strap and see if that has the required result in modifying your unacceptable behaviour. As I once told you before, my darling, this will most certainly hurt you far more than it will hurt me!"
Benedict walked to a cupboard set into the wall to the left of his desk. Rose lifted her eyes and watched apprehensively as Benedict removed a long leather strap from inside—one of the ends appeared to be split. Benedict's personal knowledge of the Scottish tawse meant that he was aware that the fearful strap was a daunting deterrent. His father had used the very same implement on his own boyhood buttocks when severe correction had been required.
"Rose, if you move your hands or stand up, we will begin again. Fifty lashes with the strap, twenty five for your behaviour at breakfast and twenty five for your more recent behaviour. Do you understand?"
Rose nodded. "Rose, please answer me."
"I understand but I have to say…ooh"
Benedict swept up Rose's skirts and petticoats baring her bottom, taking a moment to admire his wife's comely posterior and thus allowing his manhood a moment to wake up which added to his further lusty enjoyment. Benedict took hold of his swollen pego and gave it a goodly squeeze and then took up the best position in which to deliver punishment to his unruly wife.
He bought the strap down with a crack against Rose's delightfully curved sit-upon. As expected Rose reared upward with a shriek.
"My dear, you have let go of the desk and so we shall begin again. The next lash will be number one. Perhaps it would be easier if you counted out each strike. So then, let us begin again shall we? Ready?"
Hearing his bride give a small whimper from her position over the desk, Benedict sincerely hoped that after this spanking, his wife would take the opportunity to think before she acted in the future.
Chapter Eighteen
How could my husband have spread my legs for pleasure within the privacy of our bedchamber and now treat me in this dreadful way. To be laid bare and spanked in this humiliating position is completely inexplicable. How could this even be the same man?
"Ouch, ten!" The man who caressed her so intimately…
"Ahh... eleven!"The same man who had buried his head betweenmy thighs and… "Twelve… Oh God, Benedict!"
The pain of this strapping is intense; the searing burn of each stroke is almost unbearably painful. However, after the tenth stroke, this punishment is doing strange things to me. This virile man,indeedmyvery own husband and the memory of all that they shared within the bedchamber… That same man baredmybottom and is punishingme… it hurts like the very devil… but… oh God… I am becoming... so wet. I can feel moisture between my thighs… thisis dreadful! Benedict will see—he will know….
"Do I need to begin again, madam?"
"No, no, please no! Thirteen… Ahh… I'm sorry…"
The scalding stripes continued to fall and Rose called the numbers as they landed. Tears leaked permanently from her eyes. How could I have known that a strapping could hurt as much as it did? Yet, the whole session was becoming cathartic somehow…
"Forty five… I am soo sorry, sir."
Only five more to go… only four… three… two… one…
"I'm sorry… so sorry… sorry… so sorry…"
"You did very well, Rose. Stay as you are, please."
Rose felt Benedict move to stand behind her and then his hands clasped her fiery buttocks, kneading her flesh. She cried out and then moaned with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Then his hand dipped to her quim and there was the most embarrassing sound, a juicy noise that made Rose shrink inside herself with mortification.
She stayed silent, other than her weeping, because really what could she say?
Then there was a moment of fullness at her womanly entrance and Benedict's manhood slid home, pounding her ignominiously. Rose lay splayed, red arsed and split asunder. Open for him to use her as was his husbandly right. Then as Benedict's loins slapped against her punished rear end, Rose felt the most powerful orgasm that she had yet experienced tear through her very core, leaving her shaken but most thoroughly stirred.
Afterward, Benedict held Rose on his lap as she wept copiously into his shoulder. He suspected that she felt shame at her body's response to her punishment. Even though he had taken the trouble to explain to her that nothing she could do would change her reaction to her spanking and that some women did become sexually aroused by their punishment, she was still feeling an element of shame, of that he was certain.
For Benedict himself, it was a delightful surprise to find his wife so slick and ready for him. He had thought
to take her to their room and have her suckle him, giving her practice in fellatio, but discovering her so aroused, Benedict had gladly taken his wife as he had, thus proving his husbandly dominion over her.
Taking Rose as he had—immediately after her correction—reinforced his role as her lord and husband. Perhaps in the future, Rose would show him due respect whenever she next took it into her head to begin throwing things at him. She would remember today and her husband's firm, uncompromising response.
"Benedict?"
"Yes, Rose,"
"Do you, do you now hate me?"
Benedict chuckled. "Deuce no, my darling. I shall always love and adore you—but know this. If you ever behave in such an appalling manner again, I shall not hesitate in correcting you and exactly the same will occur, I will take the strap to your naughty backside."
He lowered his head and kissed her; pleased that Rose returned his kiss and snuggled into his shoulder with a contented little sigh.
Rose still thought about the changes that she had wanted to make in the servant's quarters. They seemed so terribly stark and cold. She mused endlessly over Nancy's parentage as well. Rose was unsure what to think and the niggling doubts that Margaret had dripped as poison into her ear continued to go around and around in her head.
It was a shock to find that Benedict was so strict as a husband but since it was far too late for thoughts of 'if only', Rose reconciled to accept her life as it now was. Her marriage was a fait accompli and if anything, Rose suspected that Benedict would further settle into the role as lord and master over both her and his household. Her bottom was still sore and ached when she sat, but as time went on, the tenderness was easing.
Rose wanted some time alone to process all that had happened to her in such a relatively short space of time. She needed time to rest and recover from her punishment. She needed to think about everything that had occurred and to reflect on her position within Benedict's world. She wished she had a confidant to share her troubles with, and as it so happened that very morning, she was afforded just such an opportunity to escape and discuss her misgivings.
A knock sounded at the dining room door just as Rose had poured her morning tea. The inlaid mother of pearl caddy sat unlocked beside her and remembering Benedict's instruction to lock the tea caddy to keep the precious and hugely expensive tea leaves away from the servants, she hastily locked it once again before calling out, "Come in."
Roberts stepped to the table with a silver tray. Rose looked curiously at a note that lay upon it addressed to her. She had no idea who should be writing to her. "Roberts, would you mind handing me the letter opener from the secretary?"
"Of course, Madam." Roberts crossed to the top drawer of the secretary and handed Rose the slender sliver opener.
Rose sliced the seal from the letter with precision and handed it back to Roberts.
"Will that be all, milady?"
"Oh yes, thank you, Roberts. Please inform Cook that these thin lemon biscuits are divine with my tea this morning."
"Certainly, madam." Roberts clicked his heels and disappeared.
Rose waited until the butler had left before eagerly reading the missive that she held in her hands.
Dearest Lady Rose,
I hope this letter finds you well. I read in the London pamphlets of your engagement and marriage. I hope that you do not mind my contacting you, now that you lead an elevated life.
I thought of our time aboard ship and the friendship that we forged during the crossing together. I wished to convey to you and your husband, my very good wishes for your future together.
It so happens that Miss Endicott and I are also overwintering in London. Bath has become far too damp for Miss Endicott this year. It seems that she owns a small house on Brewster Street and we are lately come there.
I am happy living with the dear lady and Miss Endicott is very good to me.
Now that you are a Countess (imagine that!) I do not wish to presume upon you. However, I wished you to know that I am always at your disposal.
Respectfully yours,
Emily Jones.
Oh my, how marvellous. Emily, here in town, what great good fortune! Rose had not realized how very lonely she had been for the companionship of someone who had known her before her marriage to Benedict. She could simply be herself once again. She would return a note to set up a time when they might visit together. Rose looked around at the sumptuousness of her London house. She didn't want Emily coming here and feeling overwhelmed and Emily surely would not want to meet at Miss Endicott's house. Miss Endicott might wish to sit with them and they would be unable to converse freely. Rose went to her secretary and seated herself. She took out a quill pen and dipped it in the ink well before smoothing the crested paper and starting to write.
Dearest Emily,
How delighted I was to receive your letter. I am overjoyed by the fact that you are residing here in London. Brewster Street is not at all far from Brunswick Gardens. I have been terribly lonely for companionship and would love to meet you somewhere. Let us find a neutral spot, however. Do you think you could get away at about half past two, Tuesday next? We might meet in Kensington Gardens at that time for I will be exercising the dogs there.
Yours sincerely,
Rose. Lady Mortimer.
Rose sealed her note with sealing wax stamped with the Mortimer seal, addressed it and left it on the silver tray along with all the other post awaiting delivery. She clapped her hands with excitement. It would be simply wonderful to see Emily once again. Every day that passed by, Rose eagerly awaited a reply from Emily. Two days later, one finally arrived.
Dearest Lady Rose,
How overjoyed I was to receive your invitation. I will see you in a few short days. Kensington Gardens Tuesday next at two-thirty.
Emily.
Two more days and they would be together. How very amiable it would be to chat with her friend in an easy and open manner as they had aboard The Gwendolyn. Rose sent Eloise to purchase a couple of small gifts in preparation, a small bottle of Rose water and a beautiful silk handkerchief, embroidered with Emily's initials. Although excited about the forthcoming assignation with Emily, Rose felt on edge with the waiting, expecting something to go awry with her plans.
That morning she had tried to talk to Benedict at breakfast but he seemed otherwise occupied. He read the morning post and only responded to her questions with grunts.
Rose grew tired of being ignored. "Benedict, I truly have something of grave importance that I wish to discuss with you and I would appreciate it if you set aside your correspondence for just a moment."
Benedict looked over the top of the note he was reading and regarded Rose. "Whatever in the world is it, m'dear? You know I prefer our breakfasts to be relaxing. Could we not discuss the matter later on in the day?"
"No, Benedict, we cannot. You are so busy all the while that I never have a chance to catch you. I wish to speak with you about adding a bit of comfort to the servant's quarters. Not too much mind you, just a bit of warmth. Some hearths and new down blankets would do well for a start."
Benedict folded his letter and set it down. The frown upon his face did not bode well for peaceful discourse.
"Rose, we have had this discussion before. The servants quarters are the way they are because that is the way they have always been. They were good enough for the time of my father and therefore, they are good enough for me. Do not attempt to discuss this again." Benedict disappeared again behind his correspondence.
Rose mumbled under her breath. "This is just like our discussion about the subject of Nancy's parentage. You don't wish to discuss anything that I feel is of importance."
The paper he held immediately crinkled, as Benedict set it upon the table. "What did you just say?"
Rose drew in a deep breath. "I stated, Lord Benedict, that just like the subject of Nancy, if you don't want to discuss something it doesn't get discussed at all, and actually, I grow tired of your attitude."
Benedict's attitude seemed so severe; Rose felt her stomach flip flop. She swallowed nervously. She had not meant for the conversation to turn into a confrontation. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of the strapping she had received at his hand, really all she wanted to do was some good. Why was that so difficult for Benedict to understand?
Looking down at her plate, Rose mumbled an apology. "I assure you, Benedict, I shall never try to bring up the subject again." Slowly, Rose made her way up to her own drawing room. She just wanted to take a break from her husband. She would never find out the truth about Nancy if Benedict would not answer her or even listen to her when she tried to raise the subject. Rose sighed; she would simply have to resign herself to this life that she had been thrust into and make the best she could of it.
Rose made herself scarce for the next couple of days. She managed to keep herself busy and did not see Benedict again during the day time. Other than late at night in bed together, when Benedict rampantly made Rose forget any resentment toward him as he exhausted her body with pleasure, she rarely saw him. Consequently, she awoke late each morning, long after her husband was up and gone. Rose took to eating a light breakfast in bed delivered on a tray. She found that when she did descend later in the morning, Benedict was out, attending to his own business and he remained elsewhere for the entire day.
Tuesday finally arrived and Rose could simply not wait to see her dear friend Emily. She was up early but the wait seemed interminable. It was snowing outside but the park was not far and Rose was determined that the weather would not hinder her plans for the day.