Rama himself escorted the couple to the river dock for their departure that afternoon. He kept his broad palm anchored either on the top of Jane's head, or firmly placed on her shoulder, as a constant reminder of his presence.
The girl shuddered under the firm hold, reading it as it was intended—a warning of what would occur if she dared disobey the rules of safety again. His dark eyes met hers as he kissed her on the forehead in a fatherly manner.
"My love for you is as great as there are stars in the sky, but I have reached my limit with your escapades. Do not do this again, Little Monkey, or I will enact my own form of discipline next time. Monkeys are sacred to us. They will never be killed, but they will be severely punished. Understand?"
Trembling at the underlying threat, and knowing what he was capable of doing after speaking with Lynette, not to mention her own experience, Jane nodded silently. She avoided Philip's eyes as Rama sat her firmly on the cushioned bench, wagged a finger at her, and then turned to say his goodbyes to his friend. She strained to hear the whispered exchange shared by the two men, knowing that they were in deep discussion about her future and her fate. For a brief moment, she wondered whether the river crocodiles would offer her more sympathy and understanding than what the two had in store for her.
The dreaded thought of what Philip's hand of justice would entail loomed over her as he shifted from being utterly furious to stoically silent. He barely spoke two words as they traveled upriver to return to the cottage, nor did he bestow any affectionate physical attention. Upon entering the house, Jane sprinted up the staircase, blinded with frightened tears after being immediately sent her to her room to prepare for punishment. Her anxiety-riddled mind exploded with the thoughts of what her backside would be experiencing within the next hour. She knew he would bare her bottom to his strict and unyielding discipline, and that he would not relinquish his position as disciplinarian until he knew that the lesson had been well received.
He had ordered her to strip to her shift and wait with her nose in the corner. With shaking hands, Jane removed the simple gown she had borrowed from Lynette's wardrobe, and then worked the delicate drawers over her hips. She watched as they slid down her slender legs and puddled to the floor. A shiver of fear caressed her entire body. She knew that Philip would never harm her for any reason, and she trusted that anything he dished out for punishment was meant to teach a valuable lesson and reinforce his love, and position, in her life. So why was she afraid? Was it just the natural instinct for self-preservation, or did she question her ability to endure?
Sipping some cooled juice to relieve her dried mouth, Jane noticed her hands were trembling as she held the cup. Even with the thin chemise covering her backside, she felt more exposed than ever. Why had she been so foolish? If only she had put aside her own willfulness, she could have been preparing for several hours of lovemaking instead of the agony of a well-smacked bottom.
She groaned as she rested her forehead against the wall. In the past, Philip had instituted quite a number of disciplinary rituals, much to her discomfort. He was a man who liked control and disliked chaos, so her defiance was certain to place a splinter under his nails. She again cursed her foolishness. What was she expecting to have happened, anyway?
"You will be spanked," he had said in a firm, low voice, as they traveled upriver to the cottage. "I intend to show you exactly how I feel about your obstinate behavior. I've been much too lax with your discipline of late. I am drawing the line at this, right here and now."
She reflected on his words, which were meant to both frighten, and warn, her. Jane's stomach turned at the knowledge that he had been counselling with Rama. She knew little about the prince's private interactions with his wives, other than that he was a strict, non-compromising disciplinarian, and had no concern regarding the condition of a lady's rump as long as her heart stayed intact. Jane feared that he might have convinced her husband to practice the same belief. If so, she was—as Lynette had delicately stated on numerous occasions—'likely facing a dewskitch and a drag'.
Even the sound of the phrase made her tremble, as its connotation implied a thorough and severe thrashing, followed by several months of 'jail' time. She was grateful that Philip would never impose the British tradition of keeping a stiff upper lip during a punishment, even if she was capable of such an act. No, there would be tears—many of them, in fact. He counted on that. But what would he expect from her that would change the course of their lives?
The phrase 'you will be spanked' asserted itself into her mind, filling her thoughts with overwhelming urgency and her tummy with apprehension. There was no doubt that swift justice would follow his entry into their quarters, and that he would have her weeping and flailing like a child within seconds of vigorously spanking her bottom to a deep crimson red.
Resentment began to work its way in, along with the unfairness of the situation. She was too old to be spanked, nor should she be placed on restriction like a naughty schoolgirl. Except for in the Raja's household, she knew of no other girls who were taken across their husband's knees and treated like an ill-disciplined child if they stepped out of bounds. She also knew that, once Philip had made a decision, there was nothing she could do or say to force him to change his mind. A lifetime of experience with him had taught her that the harder she tried to plea, promise and sway him, the more predictable—and severe—the outcome would be. Philip did not like to be second guessed, manipulated, or questioned. End of story.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. Jane wiped her eyes with the back of her left hand, trying to control her tearful whimpers. She was determined to remain calm, reason with his sensibilities and offer alternative ideas to that of spanking, along with sworn vows of future good conduct. Most of all, she had to behave like an adult. Yet she did not feel like one, knowing that Papa was closing in to take her over his knee. She began to weep as she heard the door slowly open, knowing that Philip stood there, his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, determined to give her the paddling of her life.
His silence was even more frightening. Her heart thundered in her ears with her sense of trepidation. Not only did she feel vulnerable and defenseless before his stern authority, but this time he was genuinely angry with her willful disobedience, deliberate wandering outside of the 'safety zone', and flagrant violation of the orders to remain in her room. She shuddered to think how long and thorough this particular spanking would be, and how much she would be inclined to fight it. Additionally, she knew that Philip would do whatever was required to ensure that she eventually submitted her tender young bottom to an extremely well-earned paddling.
Chapter Six
She listened as he walked across the room and scraped something heavy against the floor. The sounds of various thumping, clinking and thudding followed, causing Jane to hold her breath in dreadful expectation.
"Turn around, Jane."
She obeyed. A strong, unwavering image of stern parental-like authority, Philip leaned with one foot up on a heavy, straight backed chair, next to which was a basket that held a formidable array of implements. One by one, several paddles, a thick razor strop, and two large wooden spoons were set upon a small side table. On top of these, he set the broad, oval hairbrush that he used to both tenderly brush her red locks, and tenderize her white bottom.
He wasted no more time. "Come and stand before me, young lady. This entire situation is nothing new between us and, frankly, your disregard of my rules and boundaries is a blatant show of disrespect. I won't have it any longer. Particularly now that you are not just my little girl, but also my lady wife."
Jane winced, feeling terribly small as she listened to the man's angry tirade, inundated by humiliation and the conflicting emotions of regret, embarrassment, guilt, and shame. She looked up at him with misted eyes and begged him to reconsider.
"Please, Papa, I don't want a spanking, I'm sorry I snuck out like that. I swear that I will never do it again. I promise! I'm too old to be spanked lik
e a child."
"I have heard this before." He dismissed her vows and tears with an impatient wave of his hand as he seated himself on the wooden chair. Grimly, he shifted through the collection of implements. "Come over here," he growled, "it's time for you to go over my knee, young lady. Delay, and this spanking will go even harder for you."
Moaning with shame, she wasted no time stepping over to stand beside the chair, only to be immediately seized by the wrist. "I don't care how old you are," he told her sternly, "as long as I'm present in your life, you will never be too old to be spanked."
While being led carefully over his knee, Jane's gaze fell upon the two instruments that Philip had chosen. She whimpered, stiffening with the understanding that she was about to receive a spanking that would make Rama's discipline seem like love pats.
"A proper and through spanking is exactly what you need young lady," Philip said, as he deftly balanced her on the peak of his left knee, forcing her to brace her body against the floor with both hands as her legs waved unhindered in the air. "You were very diligent in your work to earn this one, and I promised that you will remember every smack you receive."
"Papa. I beg of you—"
"That is quite enough, little girl," the man growled, raising his hand. "Let's get this punishment underway."
Philip began with an old-fashioned hand-spanking, delivering round after round of hard, solid smacks to his wife's quivering little backside. He laid in with a swift marching rhythm, shocking her alabaster globes into a bright, simmering red within a few seconds. Her shrieks of pain kept time with his racing tempo, joined by the kicking of her legs and squirming attempts to avoid being struck in the same spot twice. It took only a minute before Jane was quickly reduced to keening screams for mercy:
"Ow! Papa, no! Dear Lord! Owww!" she shrieked. "That hurts!"
Philip gave no response, allowing his hand free range over buttocks and thighs—the intensity of his swats increasing in order to work her bottom up to a feverish cherry red.
The desperate struggle and writhing across his lap cause Jane's braid to fall loose, and her hair flew in long, thick waves of disarray over her sobbing wet face. She released a loud howl as her plump bottom bounced and jiggled with each resounding slap. Her shrieking increased as he concentrated his attention on the curving overlap between her upper thighs and bottom cheeks, making her flesh wobble and quake with each scathing impact.
He tightened his hold about her waist to prevent her from bucking off his knee, and delivered a final ten echoing swats to the backs of her legs, thoroughly coloring his canvas a satisfactory scarlet hue.
The finalization of the hand spanking allowed Jane to slump into a trembling heap over her hard perch. She sobbed miserably, begging any deity who would listen to her pleas to intervene, and save her sore, hot bottom from further agony.
"Am I getting through to you?" Philip asked, permitting a few moments reprieve for his wayward wife to catch her breath. He laid the hairbrush to rest upon the glowing cheeks.
"Yes, sir! Oh dear, yes! Please Papa," Jane begged. "On my honor, I've learned my lesson. Please, do not use that hairbrush. I promise that I'll never disobey you again. You cannot imagine the pain! Please. I'm in agony…"
"Had this been the first time you found yourself over my lap for such an offense, I would believe your promise to be trustworthy. However, it is not. I am afraid that you have earned much more punishment for this last escapade, and that, by the time I am finished with you, you will truly know the definition of the word agony."
Having pronounced judgment, Philip lifted the broad, thick brush from its resting place across her mounds
"I need to see you exercise some self-control in your life. That includes refusing to give in to your impulses. We will start with that now," he informed her. "While you are across my knee this time, I expect you to stay perfectly still. If you move so much as a toe, I'll spank you twice as hard and twice as long. Am I clear?"
Jane shuddered, hiding her face behind her hands. He knew that it was impossible for her to stay still! Even as a child, he'd commented on her 'worm-like wriggling' when facing discipline.
"Y-yes, Papa," she stammered woefully, clenching her bottom with anxiety. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, sensing Philip lifting the lethal brush high over his right shoulder. It landed with a resounding crack, catching her square across the left buttock. Rendered mute by the painful impact, and digging her fingers into the rug beneath her face, Jane gaped wordlessly as she groped for her breath.
"Ow!" she finally wailed. "Dearest Lord!! OW!"
The brush descended upon her pert, round bottom, searing each cheek in rapid succession, until her skin glowed with a radiant ruby hue. Jane pounded her fists to the floor, screeching uncontrollably, with tears flooding in tiny rivulets down her face.
"I will never allow you to bring harm to yourself if I can avoid it." He swung the hairbrush in a dazzling blur, scalding her blazing mounds as the implement swished down in a whir of hissing cracks.
"I beg of you," she sobbed. "Please stop. Papa, I'm begging! It hurts so badly."
"I know it hurts, baby." Only his voice softened in response to her pleas. "It is supposed to hurt. You would not learn this lesson if it did not."
"Please stop, Papa…"
"No, my love. Better I turn your backend into a cauldron of liquid fire than to lose you to a wild tiger or an angry zealot. Do you feel how powerless you are to prevent me from spanking you?" He did not wait for her response, nor did he slow the brush's assault upon her scorched posterior. "You would be even more powerless in the hands of someone who wanted to bring you harm. Learn this lesson this time."
Jane buried her face in her hair and wept in anguish.
"Even if you were not my wife, you will always be my ward and my little girl. If spanking this backside today is not enough to prove how I worry for you, then I will further show you in the days to come."
Regret and despair crept into her heart, increasing the volume of her cries.
"As your papa, I have every right to do whatever I feel is necessary for your best interest. I have never enforced my will upon you without reason, but we have reached an impasse. You will surrender yourself to my authority this time. When it comes to your safety, there is no debate, no argument, and no appeal for mercy. This bottom is mine to paddle if that is how I choose to teach you a valuable lesson, and I intend to have the final word when it comes to your life."
He paused, giving her a moment to catch her breath and flex his fingers.
"Have I ever punished you unfairly?"
Through her hiccups, the girl whimpered 'no'. It was true. He was being as severe as the situation dictated he should, and she knew that what she had done had been stupid, selfish, and out of pure spite.
"Thank you for acknowledging that. Just remember it." He picked up the strap and lashed down, steadily increasing his force as he bounced the thick leather from side to side. Unable to control the primal need to escape, Jane kicked her feet and howled again, vigorously trying to slip through his impenetrable grip around her waist.
"I told you to hold still, young lady," he said grimly, immediately doubling his pace and strumming the strap in the same spot, raising a torrent of incoherent yowling and shrill cries.
The entire spanking had only lasted about ten minutes, but to Jane, the punishment felt as though it had endured a lifetime.
Philip started to slow his efforts as she sagged with exhaustion in her doubled position over his knees. He rounded off the spanking with an echoing dozen smacks with his hand to her impertinent bottom, and then held her blubbering form in place with that same hand resting gently in the center of her back.
Several minutes passed and, except for the sound of Jane's muffled cries and the pattering of rainfall outside the window, the room was silent. Gently, he smoothed his hand over her glowing orbs, cupping the heated fleshed in his palm.
"Are you able to stand?" he asked, helping her
to her feet.
"B-barely," she sniveled.
"Very well. You may lie on the bed over a pillow. I want your bottom in the air. I know you are familiar with this," he produced a large hand of ginger that had been peeled into the shaped of a wide, flared-bottomed cone. "You will stay there, plugged with this, until I tell you to move."
Jane whimpered, unable to summon the strength to protest.
He pressed her across the bed, tucking pillows under her hips, and lifted the shift away from her bottom. She buried her face in her hands as he pried her quaking cheeks apart and gently pressed the large bulb to her clenched pucker.
"I suggest you relax. It only irritates more when you squeeze," he commented, working the juicy root through the resistant pathway and lodging it in place. The wide base locked the plug within her, pressing against the sensitive inner tissue of her rectum. A high-pitched squeal rose within a few seconds as the juicy plug began to work its magic, filling her bottom with a deep, hot sensation that extended beyond uncomfortable.
"It burns, Papa! It burns! Please take it out."
"No. You will lie here on your tummy with the ginger in place until I tell you to move. If it comes out, I will take the strap to you again. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir," she sniveled, hugging the pillow to her chest. Would this day ever end?
Twenty minutes later, Philip returned and eased the plug from her throbbing bottom. He sat down next to her on the bed and stroked her back.
His Little Courtesan Page 8
