by Blake,Zoe
Sarah kept her eyes trained on his waistcoat buttons. Her humiliation from him not kissing her and her jealousy of that woman had gotten the better of her and now she was going to pay the price. Despite the trappings of wealth and respectability there was something primal and uncivilized about Lord Warrington.
“Now,” he barked.
Startled, Sarah looked up at him. Her bright green eyes close to tears.
“Little girls who are used to boys shouldn’t try their games on men. Do you understand me?”
Sarah could only nod.
Pierce palmed one thick ringlet of her hair. Slowly gliding his hand down the long, silky length, pulling the curl straight. Gripping the end tightly, he gave it a sharp tug before allowing the curl to spring back in place. Her hair fascinated him. It was raven’s wing black. The color rich and deep. So long and thick, a man could wrap his hand around a silken lock twice. A vision of her head forced back as he fisted her hair before driving deeply into her small, tight body with his cock flashed before his eyes.
Sarah opened her lips on a gasp from the small sting of pain from the sudden tug on her hair. Watching his strong hand grasp the delicate tendril somehow heightened her awareness of his physical brawn compared to her diminutive size. She couldn’t help but feel the hum of restrained energy, as if he was forcing himself to only lightly touch her. What would happen if his restraint snapped?
Sarah had a terrible need to see him slip the harness off. She needed to know. Were the intense looks and fleeting touches him just teasing her because he viewed her as barely out of the schoolroom? Because he didn’t consider her enough of a woman…like that woman Fannie? The idea piqued her feminine pride. While it was true she was used to more immature young men…boys…fawning over her, it didn’t mean she did not have the whiles to attract a man if she wanted to. This man.
It was foolish. It was dangerous. She could hear her old teacher’s biblical warning, pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. She didn’t care.
Tremulously licking her lips before speaking, Sarah murmured in what she hoped was an alluring voice. “You need to let me go. One of those boys you mentioned is waiting for me.” It was an irrational lie. She regretted it the moment she uttered the words.
It was too late…it had hit the mark.
Ice blue eyes turned a deep sapphire. His mouth curved into a slow, arrogant smile. Releasing the wrist he had pinned to the wall, he took a step back.
“Well, we mustn’t keep him waiting,” he said indulgently.
Sarah felt a momentary disappointment. He did think of her as just a silly schoolgirl.
Just then a strong arm wrapped around her tiny waist. She could feel the searing heat of his hand pressed against her lower back. His other hand spanned her chest, just below the collarbone. Sarah held her breath as it deliberately slid down the pearl-buttoned lace front of her blouse. His fingers lightly grazed the inside curve of her breasts as he pressed the bones of her corset deeper into her skin. After what felt like an eternity, he rested his tan, sinewed hand along her flat stomach.
Sarah felt a pull at her back. He had untied the bow securing her black velvet ribbon belt.
Her bright green eyes reflected her rising alarm.
Raising her arms in a defensive gesture, as if she were any match for his brute strength, she pleaded, “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
Pierce captured her outstretched arms by the thin wrists, quickly and expertly wrapping her velvet belt around the delicate skin.
Sarah tried to pull back but his grip was too strong. “What are you doing?”
The moment her beautiful lips uttered the taunt, Pierce felt a primal surge to mark his territory. If she were going to be in the presence of another male, she would feel the imprint of his hand the whole time. Pulling her by her ribbon secured wrists, Pierce dragged Sarah across the room to the plush chairs before the unlit fire.
“Please! I’m sorry! I lied. I lied,” she cried.
“All the more reason for you to be punished,” said Pierce. His face, a mask of stern determination.
“Punished? You can’t! You wouldn’t dare!”
Pierce leaned in, crushing her bound wrists between them. Pressing close to her lips, he whispered, “You will find I dare quite bit, little one.”
Taking advantage of Sarah’s shocked stillness, Pierce sat, dragging her over his knees.
At first Sarah was too stunned to issue a protest. Then he began to pull up her skirt.
Taking a huge handful of Prussian blue skirt and the ruffled petticoat underneath, Pierce flipped them high, exposing her lace-edged fine linen drawers. Sarah screeched in protest, kicking her legs out.
“Kick one more time and I will tie your ankles as well.”
The terrifying thought instantly stilled Sarah’s furtive movements.
“If you don’t release me this instant, I’ll…I’ll scream for help!” she warned. “I’ll…I’ll call for Parker!”
Pierce laughed. “My staff and especially my butler know better than to interrupt their master.”
Sarah felt helpless. She was at the mercy of a madman! She tried another tact.
“Please. I’ll be good. I promise. I won’t ever taunt you again,” she whined.
“I’m here to make sure of it.” His voice low and husky, filled with dark promise.
She could feel his fingers searching beneath her bunched up skirts at her waist. With horror, she felt his skin against her own. His fingers dipped into the waistband of her drawers, slowly pulling them down over her now exposed bottom. Her face burned with humiliation. This was far worse than the embarrassment from the episode in Mrs. Needham’s parlor. Then his transgression on her person could be excused as a life or death necessity but this…this…was beyond the pale. As with then, she felt lightheaded, unable to draw a full breath, posed as she was prone over his knees. Her corset cut painfully into her side. She could feel the unmistakable press of his aroused member pushing against the soft swell of her belly.
Pierce was pleased. Her heavy skirts had hidden the generous curves of her derriere. Lush and round. Perfect for spanking. He ran a large, warm hand over one soft, full curve.
With her tied wrists, she desperately tried to grab at his trouser leg to force her body up and off his lap.
“Stay still,” he warned giving her a slight slap on the upper thigh.
“Oh!” cried Sarah at the contact but she stilled nonetheless.
Once again, Pierce caressed her bottom. Rubbing his hand in leisurely circles, exploring each rounded curve. He admired the soft, golden radiance of her flawless skin. Anticipation rising to see it glow a bright pink from his ministrations. The sweet pleasure from pain. Placing his left hand between her shoulder blades to keep her steady, he raised his right in a firm arc.
The first contact was a full-handed spank in the center of her left cheek. He paused. Watching as her skin turned momentarily white only to blossom into a light pink showing the perfect outline of his hand.
Sarah howled in response. More indignant than hurt.
Pierce repeated the gesture on her right cheek. Admiring the mark of his hand on both her exposed globes. Wishing he had brought his photographic camera in here with him. He would have loved to capture this complete, superb moment.
The very moment he marked her as his own.
He waited till the faint outlines of his hand started to fade. The only sound in the room, the quickly indrawn breaths of his captive.
Then he punished her in earnest.
Raising his arm, he released a quick succession of hits across her bottom to the top of the black stockings on her upper thighs. With each strike, her precious bottom jiggled. Her hips lurched. He watched as her skin began to bloom a bright pink.
“Stop! Stop! It hurts,” she tearfully begged.
The itching, stinging pain had grown to an unbearable, bruising heat. With every contact of his hard hand, her body jerked. Her skin burned.
Ignoring her pleas, Pierce continued his assault on her vulnerable bottom. Careful not to strike the same place twice in a row, he evened his strokes…first one cheek…then the other…first the plump top…then the rounded underside.
“Oh god! Please! I cannot take it!” choked out Sarah in desperation.
“You can and you will,” he growled, renewing his efforts. Despite the harshness of the spanking, Pierce was in truth holding back. There would be time later for a truly merciless spanking to really test her limits. For now, he was content to make an impression on her…literally.
As her skin darkened, he increased the time in between contact. Relishing in how her cute bottom cheeks clenched. How her hips shimmied from side to side. Her slender legs pumping up and down on her toes as she woefully anticipated the next punishing spank. The movement teased the hard length of his cock, pressed close to her middle. Every tremor. Every slight movement. Every painful indrawn breath. He could feel it all along his considerable shaft.
Sarah could not imagine being in a worse predicament. She knew she deserved this punishment. She had behaved like a petulant child who had been denied a toy. She had expected his annoyance maybe even anger but not this…never this. The pain came in throbbing waves now, each one worse than the last. Her bottom felt like it was too close to the fire, which made her own body’s response all the more confusing. The pulsing heat of her skin seemed to cause a pulsing sensation in a very naughty place. The sting of his slap causing a matching rising stirring in her middle. The tingling had an edge of excitement…a spark of pleasure…that thoroughly bewildered her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! Please don’t spank me anymore.” Her large emerald eyes brimming with tears.
“Have you learned the dangers of taunting me? Of lying to your betters?”
“Yes! Yes! Please!”
Pierce rubbed his hand over her heated skin. Enjoying how it warmed his own. He decided to test her promise not to lie.
“Did you enjoy your punishment, Sarah?” he softly asked. His voice warm and low.
What a ridiculous question thought Sarah. How could he ask such a thing? She opened her mouth to tell him absolutely not when his words gave her pause.
“Think carefully before you respond, my love,” warned Pierce. He pressed one intimidating hand at the top of her bottom where it met her lower back in a dimpled ridge. Gliding his fingers along the upper curve of her bottom, he allowed his thumb to gently press between her cheeks.
Sarah sucked in a shocked breath, holding it close. She clenched her cheeks in an agitated response.
“Unclench your bottom or I will resume your spanking,” he said with authority. Sarah reluctantly obeyed but it took great effort.
He continued to move his hand deliberately over her warmed-up curves, pressing his thumb deeper. The tip touching the rouged, puckered skin of her hidden back passage causing Sarah to cry out in panic. Pierce applied the slightest pressure to the sensitive spot before continue to stroke downward. As his fingers slid over her soft skin, his thumb explored the softer petals of her cunny.
As his thumb dipped into the dewy proof of her forbidden desire, he asked again, “Tell me Sarah, did you enjoy your punishment?”
“I don’t know what you are asking of me,” she whimpered. Her secured hands nervously twisting into the loose fabric of his trouser leg.
“Do you feel my thumb?”
Far too ashamed to respond, Sarah remained mute.
Pierce took his free hand and gave her a sharp slap on her left cheek.
Sarah cried out in pain and shock.
“I asked do you feel my thumb?” he repeated as he lightly pressed his thumb along her cunny.
“Yes,” Sarah shamefully whispered.
Pierce pressed the tip into her tight cunny. Relishing in how her body instinctively clamped down on the digit, trying to force him out. While cupping the underside of her bottom with his fingers, he slowly pulsed his thumb in and out of her body. Her own arousal easing his movement.
“Oh! Oh! Don’t! I don’t…please,” she breathed.
“Your body is telling me you secretly enjoyed your spanking. Now I want to hear it from your lips.”
“Oh, please don’t make me,” she begged.
“Say it,” he commanded.
“I…I…enjoyed my…what you did to me,” she finished lamely.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Someone wants another spanking for disobeying.”
“No! I enjoyed my punishment,” she called out in a mortified rush.
Pierce flipped her around so she was now sitting upright on his lap. The heat radiating from her tortured bottom caressing his cock through the fabric of his trousers.
Taking in the flushed cheeks, tousled hair and eyes bright with both desire and pain, he thought she looked stunningly beautiful.
“Open your mouth,” he instructed.
Sarah gave him a perplexed look.
Pierce raised one dark eyebrow with an unmistakable look of warning. Sarah quickly parted her lips.
“Good girl,” he praised before rubbing the thumb that moments earlier had been pressed inside of her, along her bottom lip. Her eyes widened in shock but she dutifully kept her mouth open, only allowing a small whimper to escape.
Pierce pushed his thumb in deep, gliding it along her tongue. “Suck, little one. Taste yourself on my skin.”
Sarah obeyed. Tasting the salty tang that was his skin and her essence.
Pierce smiled. This little American beauty really was a treasure. One he intended to hold on to.
Pulling his thumb free, he grasped her by the shoulders, helping her to rise. While her skirts fell into place, her drawers dropped to the floor about her feet. Before Sarah could decide how to retrieve them with her dignity intact, Pierce swept them from under her feet.
Sarah held out her hand, intending to stuff the linen unmentionable in the hidden pocket of her skirt.
“I think I will just keep them,” said Pierce with a seductive wink.
Fearing retribution if she argued, Sarah only nodded her head. Pierce stepped close. Just like he did on the street a few days ago…had it really been only a few days ago they met? He grabbed a fistful of her silken locks, expertly twisting them into a loose chignon. Sarah stood still as he secured the tousled but presentable style with the hair ribbon tangled in her curls. “Cannot have you leaving here looking like you took a tumble in my bed,” he said with an amused smile.
In a befuddled daze of warring emotion, Sarah turned to make a hasty departure before she remembered her wrists were still tied. Flushing with embarrassment, she stood slightly turned from him, unsure of how to proceed.
“Allow me,” he politely offered as if he were holding a door open for her and not untying her binds after a punishment. His words once again reminded her of their first meeting.
Pierce undid the ribbon and insisted on retying the belt about her waist. With a jacket placed over it, no one would notice or wonder at the wrinkles in the ribbon.
Properly attired, Sarah was regaining her equilibrium. Holding her scattered emotions in check, she crossed to the door. She knew one thing for certain. She had learned her lesson. Lord Warrington was a dangerous man, far above what she could possibly hope to handle in her limited experience.
When she was a safe distance away, she turned and boldly declared, “I will have Mrs. Needham send Victoria tomorrow.”
“Do that and I will take you over my knee again…where ever I find you…and I will find you Sarah.”
“But…”
“I expect you here tomorrow at the appointed time. One minute late and there will be consequences.”
Sarah ran out of the room.
~*~
“Did she have a feather in her hair? I heard they all have a feather in their hair. That’s how you know…their…well…a…you know,” finished Elma on a whisper.
“Will you please pay attention!” responded an exasperated Sarah.
They were at the
Lyon’s Corner teashop on Coventry Street. Sarah had coaxed Elma there after her sitting with Lord Warrington not wishing to be overheard by the other girls or worse, Mrs. Needham. She was too flummoxed and chagrined to share the truth regarding Lord Warrington’s punishment but still she had to talk to someone about her feelings if only in a roundabout way. The pain in her bottom was gone but the memory still pulsed through her mind, heating her face.
“I am paying attention!” pouted Elma. “I’ve just never seen a fallen woman before!”
The well-dressed matrons at the table next to them turned with affronted looks. The older of the two shaking her head in disapproval. Sarah smiled shyly before grabbing Elma’s wrist and dipping her head low to whisper, “Will you please keep your voice down! I did not bring you here so Mrs. Needham could hear us all the way over on Shaftesbury!”
“Sorry Sarah.”
“Dang it all! I’m sorry, Elma. I’m just flustered and no, she didn’t.”
“She didn’t what?”
“She didn’t have a feather in her hair but she did have on the brightest color dress I have ever laid eyes on and her bosom was…”
Sarah had to stop because the Gladys, dressed smartly in a black and white silk French maid’s uniform, arrived with their cream tea tray. Politely waiting while she set the teacups, pot and tray of scones, jam and clotted cream on the table.
“Why do you call them Gladys anyway? It seems so silly? Why not maids or waitresses or servants or…”
“Who cares? Tell me about the woman’s bosoms!” burst out Elma.
Sarah and Elma turned at the loud screeching of chairs. The two matrons left in a rather indignant huff. Both girls burst out giggling.
“I don’t want to talk about that wretched woman anymore. Besides that is not why I brought you here. There is something far more…well…delicate,” Sarah hedged.
Elma spread a scone with cream and jam, for once patiently waiting for her friend to continue.
Wishing to confide in her friend and get some advice, Sarah was also still reluctant to reveal the full truth of her afternoon session with Lord Warrington. Instead, she decided to tell a half-truth and only reveal his threat. She would then gage Elma’s response. Placing her hand up against her cheek to shield her lips, Sarah leaned in close, “he threatened to…to…take me over his knee if I was late tomorrow,” she finished in a rush.
