Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust)

by Carpenter, Maggie

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she replied meekly, head bowed in shame.

  During their recent time together Elizabeth had felt a bond growing between her and Lord Michael. She had convinced herself that the punishments that had gone before, though necessary, were history, not to be repeated. But now she realised such was not the case. She was, and suspected she always would be, vulnerable to his disapproval and subject to his discipline.

  ‘Tell me how sloppy you’ve been,’ he told her, ‘and ask me for your deserved punishment, Elizabeth.’

  She felt the familiar blush rise in her cheeks. ‘I… I was very neglectful, sir, in my habits,’ she acknowledged quietly. ‘And I… I would be grateful if you would see fit to punish me accordingly… sir.’

  ‘Very well,’ he nodded. ‘You will lift your skirt, drop your knickers, and bend over.’

  She felt the tears in her eyes but obediently bent at the waist and leant on the dressing table, her bottom bared for the reprisal her poor show warranted.

  He moved behind her and placed himself as he had in the sitting room that very morning, facing into the room with an arm over and around her waist. He ran the smoothly varnished wood of the hairbrush over her naked globes, savouring the evidence of the morning’s beatings. Then speaking softly but firmly he lectured her.

  ‘Elizabeth, today you have done well in some respects, but you failed to follow those pluses through. Was it not obvious to you that you should have tidied your own mess? I certainly hope you did not leave it for Grace, for if you did I shall ask her to spank you when she returns from her day off.’

  ‘Oh, no sir!’ she cried. ‘That was not my intention, I assure you!’

  ‘Granted, it is her employment,’ he went on, ‘but as she’s not here the responsibility falls to you, does it not?’

  Elizabeth could feel the unforgiving surface of the wood against her flesh, and she prayed – though she did not ask for mercy. ‘Yes sir,’ she replied despondently.

  ‘And even if Grace were here, it would be easy for you to drop your dirty clothes in the hamper, then lay your clean clothes on the bed. Is that not just good sense and good standards?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she admitted, knowing he was right and thinking about all the times she had carelessly tossed her clothes on the floor without a second thought.

  ‘A few good smacks and I think you’ll remember next time.’ He lifted the brush, and it landed with a loud splat on her poor left buttock. She rocked a little in his hold and yelped, and he repeated the action, again and again until he had delivered six stinging blows on each cheek.

  ‘What do you say now?’ he asked, panting very slightly from the immensely enjoyable exertion.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she sniffled. ‘I’m very sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.’

  ‘See that it doesn’t,’ he said sharply, with little apparent warmth towards her. ‘Now take your nap and I’ll see you at dinner.’

  With that he placed the brush back on Elizabeth’s dresser and strode from the room, leaving her head spinning in utter confusion as to his intentions toward her, and her bottom throbbing warmly.

  After dinner Lord Michael eyed his polished boots as he sat comfortably in front of the fire, the delicious evening meal digesting, a glass of brandy in one hand, Elizabeth quietly sitting opposite him, the crackling fire making her face glow healthily.

  ‘I must say, you did an excellent job on those, Elizabeth,’ he said, nodding at his shining footwear.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied. ‘I’ve never cleaned boots before, so I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing or how well I’d done.’

  ‘I’ll just take them up to my room,’ he went on. ‘You wait here. I’ll only be a moment.’

  Leaving her by the fire he made his way upstairs, and as he placed his boots beside the dresser he eyed his very best riding crop lying on its top.

  Downstairs Elizabeth was already becoming a little bored in her own company. Patience had never been her strong suit, and to her he seemed to be taking a long time. She decided to get another bottle of champagne, and to prove to him she had learned a thing or two, she would find the wine stock herself.

  She went to the kitchen, but to her dismay cook told her she was too busy for such things and she would have to go down to the cellars for the champagne. So, with the best of intentions, Elizabeth made her way along the gloomy passage at the back of the house, normally only used by the servants, and as she passed the footman’s quarters she thought she heard a strange noise. Yes, there it was again; a rhythmic creaking, almost ghostly sound, and as she listened more intently she was sure she could hear some sort of moaning too!

  Surely no servants were in the house, apart from cook, she puzzled. What could the sounds possibly be?

  With inquisitiveness getting the better of her, and breathlessly keen to discover more, she very quietly pushed down on the door handle, carefully eased it open an inch or two… and could not believe her eyes! There, bathed in dim lamplight was Grace, naked, on her hands and knees! And Billy, the old gardener’s young help, was kneeling behind her, his face strangely contorted as he thrust his hips at the servant girl with astonishing ferocity that made her breasts quiver and swing back and forth.

  Elizabeth stood rooted to the spot for a moment, utterly stunned by the scene. She knew she should close the door, leave the couple to their privacy, and go straight to the cellar for the champagne, but she was utterly transfixed. Completely mesmerised. She could not take her eyes off them, and so engrossed were they in their lovemaking they had no idea she was there.

  Meanwhile Lord Michael, returning to the sitting room, was puzzled to find it empty. Seeing the empty champagne bottle on the occasional table he astutely suspected that his young supplicant had gone looking for more to drink, so he decided to visit the kitchen to find her, and found cook still clearing the dinner things up. In response to his query she confirmed that Elizabeth had indeed gone down to the cellars to collect a fresh bottle for them. So as he found and made his way along the dingy passageway he stopped in his tracks, for Elizabeth was there, just ahead of him in the shadows, peering through a surreptitiously ajar door. He frowned; what on earth was she doing?

  Silently he approached, and standing behind her, looking over her shoulder, he was able to see the young couple making love, completely unaware of two pairs of prying eyes, and the fact that she was sneakily invading their privacy smacked as an instant affront to his integrity.

  Without hesitation he grabbed her around the waist, clamped a hand over her mouth so she couldn’t cry out, and with his other hand, though still holding his favourite riding crop, he managed to quickly but silently close the door. He then bustled her back along the passageway as covertly as he could, whispering fiercely into her ear that she was not to make a sound, and as soon as they were out of earshot of the kitchen he let her go, pushing her in front of him, and brought the crop down upon her bottom with a severity that shocked her more than hurt her. Her dress and petticoat shielded most of the blow, but when she turned to face him the anger on his face made her positively tremble.

  ‘You despicable sneak!’ he scolded her. ‘Have you learned nothing today? Spying on your unsuspecting servants while they steal a moment or two together? What shameful behaviour!’

  ‘Oh, sir, please don’t be angry with me!’ she wailed, truly upset that she had failed him, and fearful of the consequences. ‘I’m sorry!’ she cried.

  ‘You have disappointed me, Elizabeth,’ he said, catching his breath. ‘Go up to your room at once. You must be severely punished for this. You are a very, very naughty young lady.’

  She burst into tears and ran upstairs, holding up her skirt so as not to trip. She threw open her bedroom door and landed facedown on her bed, scolding herself for her stupidity. All her plans to please him were gone. Just like that, out of the window.

  Soon she heard him as he made his way along the landing, his footfalls sounding heavy and determined, as though he had a serious
duty to perform and perform it he would, no matter what.

  Lord Michael approached her open door, rapping the crop against his leg with each stride and making sure she could hear its potent threat; anxious anticipation always increased the effectiveness of a good chastisement in the recipient.

  When he entered her room he almost felt sorry for her, but didn’t show it. Her splendid dress was rumpled underneath her, her hair was slightly askew, and as she turned and looked up at him with imploring eyes her flushed cheeks glistened with tears.

  ‘Oh, my lord, please, please forgive me,’ she pleaded, almost melting his resolve.

  But he reached back and closed the door without taking his eyes from her, and then approached the bed upon which she sprawled. ‘I’m sorry, young lady, but you need to be disciplined for such underhand behaviour. Someone of your high breeding and station should not stoop to such levels. You will learn that nothing you do, good or bad, is without consequence. You have disappointed me, for I thought you already understood that.’

  ‘Oh, I do, sir,’ she sobbed, ‘believe me I do.’

  ‘Then you must realise that your behaviour was wrong, and you must pay the price.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, dropping her head.

  ‘Take off your dress and underwear; I want you only in your petticoat,’ he ordered. ‘And when you’ve done that, fetch me some of your scarves.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, calming a little but puzzled by the latter demand.

  As she undressed, from the corner of her eye she noticed him take off his jacket and cravat, remove his cufflinks and roll up his sleeves, which unsettled her again. But in her petticoat and bare feet she found the scarves he wanted and stood, full of trepidation, awaiting further instructions.

  ‘Stand at the foot of the bed, Elizabeth, and grip the nearest post,’ he instructed, and trembling slightly she did as she was told. ‘I am going to bind your wrists, young lady, and as I punish you, you will take care not to scream, for if you do a gag is not far behind.’

  ‘Yes, s-sir,’ she stammered.

  He was efficient in his work, and when finished tying her wrists to the ornately carved post he lifted her petticoat, exposing her bottom to his appreciation. Then plucking up another scarf he wrapped it around her waist, holding her petticoat up and out of the way. She was now naked from the waist down, and shivered with embarrassment and fear.

  Picking up the crop, he then addressed her again. ‘Elizabeth, you will now receive three extremely significant strokes from my crop. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she answered breathlessly.

  ‘Are you ready?’ he asked, his voice without apparent emotion.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, cringing.

  He placed the crop across the upper slope of her bottom, leaving it there a moment. Then he lifted it and waited. He heard Elizabeth let out a soft moan, and then he swept it down, the leather implement emitting a pleasing crack! as it found its mark.

  Elizabeth gasped and clenched her teeth, but did not cry out.

  He placed the crop against her once again, an inch or so below the bright red line of the first stroke. He raised it, and bringing it down with another practiced sweep of his arm it landed accurately, exploding in a second raised stripe.

  Again she took it stoically and did not scream.

  Lord Michael repeated his actions for the third time, and when the crop cut into the fleshy lower part of her bottom Elizabeth hissed, threw her head back, clutched the bedpost even tighter, and stamped her foot once on the floor.

  He held the crop to her parted lips. ‘Kiss it, Elizabeth,’ he whispered. ‘Kiss that which teaches you right from wrong.’

  Large tears were squeezing from her eyes as she kissed the cruel crop. Her bottom was on fire, but her tears were more from shame and humiliation than from the punishment itself. He stood beside her, gently caressing her tortured flesh. ‘Your training must now continue,’ he told her, ‘and it will not all be just about discipline.’

  ‘It… it won’t?’ she whimpered, loving the feel of his hand on her burning bottom.

  ‘No, it won’t,’ he said, untying her wrists. ‘First, I am going to move you.’ Holding her by the waist he walked her over to the window. The curtain rod was solid oak, strong and well secured. He lifted her arms, tying them to it above her head.

  ‘Are you sorry, Elizabeth?’ he asked, dropping his hands to caress her bottom cheeks again.

  ‘I am very sorry, sir,’ she sniffled, comforted by his soothing hands.

  ‘Good…’ he quietly comforted, ‘now part your legs and close your eyes…’

  He stood quietly next to her for a moment, making sure she was secure and comfortable, and then began to stroke the insides of her thighs. She gasped with surprise, and then sighed pleasurably.

  ‘How does that feel, Elizabeth?’ he asked.

  ‘Wonderful, sir,’ she replied honestly.

  ‘I’m going to touch you somewhere else now, my dear,’ he said, preparing her. ‘Do you know where I mean?’

  ‘Um, yes sir,’ she whispered carefully, filled with tantalising apprehension. ‘I think I do, sir.’

  He trailed his fingers up her thighs, and then brushed her pussy lips, barely touching her clit. She gasped and wriggled slightly. He ventured further. His fingers found her wet and open. She arched her back, pushing against his hand. He slipped a finger between her swollen lips, and she moaned.

  He pulled his hand away and slipped his arm around her waist, gently kissing the back of her neck, pressing himself against her. His hand moved up to her breast, pinched her nipple under the smooth silk, then began to caress and knead the soft orb. His breath was on her shoulders, and he felt her nipple grow hard under his touch. She was trembling, and he knew it was from a deep, carnal lust.

  He broke away and Elizabeth groaned in disappointment. She wanted him next to her, touching her most secret places. She could hear him move around the room and silently prayed he would quickly return, and continue to do those deliciously unspeakable things to her. She could feel her wanton wetness, she could feel her lips parted in need, and she ached for his hands on her body.

  Lord Michael dowsed all the lamps except one. It cast a warm glow around the room, and she breathed a wanting whimper as she heard him approach again. ‘How are you feeling?’ he whispered, his breath hot in her ear.

  ‘I, um, I don’t feel quite normal,’ she stuttered, not sure how to explain the hot urges racing through her body, or the scandalous desires dancing in her mind.

  ‘I am going to give you a choice, Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘which is not something I do very often. So I want you to listen very carefully.’

  A choice? Elizabeth stiffened. A choice of what?

  ‘I can untie you, put you to your bed, and the evening will be over,’ he explained. ‘You will never have to be dealt with by me again. Never be spanked or whipped, never have to perform menial tasks because I say so, never be made to do things you don’t want to do. It will be as though today and this evening never happened.’

  Elizabeth felt a panic rising from the pit of her tummy. He was going to leave her? She could hardly bear the thought.

  ‘Or, you can ask me to stay,’ he continued. ‘You can ask me to carry on with your training – for that is what I have been doing today – to teach you about your mind and body and spirit, and all they have to offer. The choice is yours, Elizabeth. Do I stay with you tonight, or do I leave you now?’

  So those were her choices, and she did not hesitate to follow her heart.

  ‘Oh sir, please stay,’ she begged. ‘Please stay with me!’

  Lord Michael’s lips brushed her shoulder and neck, and she moaned, feeling the pleasure pulsate through her. ‘Very well, Elizabeth, I shall stay,’ he murmured.

  ‘Oh, thank you, sir,’ she cried with gratitude and relief as he pressed against her, and she realised he was now naked. His hands were around her, cupping her breasts, his tongue tracing the contou
rs of her dainty ear. She moaned, surrendering to his contact, desperately wanting him to touch her down there again, but too embarrassed to ask.

  But as if reading her thoughts he asked, ‘What would you like me to do now, Elizabeth?’

  ‘Whatever… whatever pleases you, sir.’

  ‘It’s all right, Elizabeth,’ he reassured her, ‘on this occasion you can tell me what would please you.’

  ‘Please, sir, would you touch me…’ she whispered, feeling flustered and embarrassed to be thinking what she was thinking, never mind saying it to a man – an older man who was still little more than a stranger, ‘would you touch me lower… between my legs, sir?’

  Lord Michael smiled, his hardness pressing against her naked bottom, and he moved his hands down her front. His fingers burrowed between her thighs, teasing her, and she held her breath in anticipation.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she heard herself gasp. ‘More… please, more.’

  He moved his fingers and slowly manipulated her clitoris. She cried out, her legs all but giving way, but the bonds were secure and as he continued to play with her, dancing his fingers across her swollen bud, she felt something strange building within her.

  Her breathing became panting, and sobs crept from her throat. He increased his movements, making them more assertive. She pressed back against him, responding even more passionately, and he knew her release was near. He stopped then and she moaned desperately. He was powerfully erect and needing to fuck her.

  ‘You are a saucy little minx, aren’t you?’ he goaded.

  She didn’t respond, but her breathing was deep and her breasts were rising and falling with unquenched passion. He reached up and untied her, and as her wrists fell he swooped her up in his arms.

  He laid her on the bed, pulled her petticoat up and over her head leaving her completely naked, then stretched alongside her, staring at her beauty. Her breasts were full and ripe. They felt soft but firm as he began caressing them again. Hungrily he laid his lips on her nipples, sucking and biting.