by Lucy Wild
He walked over to her, reaching out to stroke her cheek as a smile played across his lips. He blinked, as if regretting his smile, a frown instead crossing his features as she stumbled backwards across the room. “Now go and play,” he snapped. “The lesson is over.”
Chapter 15
Lizzie wandered in a daze to her nursery, her entire body on fire with emotions and feelings she had never experienced before in her life. Once the door was closed, she leaned back against it, trying to calm her laboured breathing. To think he had held his member in front of her, so close she could have leaned forwards and kissed it. She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to, only that it seemed to call to her in a way she didn’t fully understand.
But then why had he backed away so suddenly, refusing to so much as look her in the eye as she left the teaching room? Had she done something wrong? Had she offended him in some way without even realising it? But if she had, surely he would have punished her rather than looked as if he was the one at fault. She could reach no conclusions, and in the end, she forced herself to think about something else.
She looked at the cot, the blankets and doll calling to her, looking like a place of comfort, of security, of protection away from the impossible questions still whispering to her. She climbed over the bars of the cot, lying down and tucking the blankets around her, holding the doll tight.
Closing her eyes, she thought sleep might take her away from the stresses she felt but instead, an image came into her mind. It was her back in the teaching room, his hands between her legs again. Only this time, he stood up and pulled out his member, stiff and ready for her. She opened her mouth and waited as he thrust forwards, sliding over her lips towards the back of her throat, choking her on his length.
As the daydream began to take shape in her mind, she let go of the doll without thinking about it, her hands sliding slowly down her dress, brushing over her chest, moving downwards as her nipples came to life, rubbing against the fabric in a way she could not ignore. She thought about his tongue flicking over them, his fingers gripping them roughly, tugging them upwards, making her wince as he played with her for his own benefit.
Her fantasy twisted and changed in her head, moving from one thought to another. He was kissing her, he was inside her, he was choking her with his member, his cock, his penis, whatever he wanted to call it. She could do nothing but gag on him. All of a sudden, he was spanking her, sliding into her at the same time. The images came thick and fast, ever changing as her hands slid down over her stomach, finding the hem of her dress and reaching up inside it.
She told herself she was not disobeying him. She was not going to touch herself, she was just going to revise the things he had taught her, feel and name the parts of herself. That was her labia majora, her hands sliding over it. If she moved it apart like he had, there was the labia minora, her fingers stroking slowly over the soft folds of flesh beneath her hands. Tug the skin upwards a little with one hand, that’s it. Then there, with the other, feel that nub. Oh, goodness. She gasped out loud at the feel of it under her fingers. It felt hard and soft at the same time, touching it in different ways brought different sensations, made her breath catch as she pictured his tongue down there, flicking over it in the same way she moved her little finger, making her body burn with lust the longer she touched herself, unable to pretend any longer that she was obeying his command not to do this.
She slid her hand downwards, ignoring the frustration of stopping playing with her clit, moving towards her entrance, wondering about that aching emptiness. She was surprised by how wet she was, moisture spreading over her lips and down towards her bottom as she circled her hole with her fingers, easing towards it and then away, teasing herself as she tried to build up the courage to fill that emptiness. Finally, with her breath held, she slid her index finger into herself, wincing slightly at the stretching it caused. But then it was in her, gripped tightly inside herself as she let out a long low moan of satisfaction.
With her other hand, she returned to her clit, stroking it in slow circles, brushing lightly over it at first and then more firmly as the finger inside her began to move slowly, rocking inside herself. She felt a tightness down there, a tightness that spread through her body, her nerves growing more sensitive, the world outside of the cot forgotten entirely. What was that feeling? Was that the orgasm he talked about? The more she stroked herself, the more the heaviness grew, as if she were lifting off the mattress and floating into the air. Her toes curled and she bit her lip as all of a sudden, she was certain something was about to happen. Something big.
Her mouth fell open and she was on the edge of whatever it was when the door to the nursery opened and James walked in, carrying fresh blankets.
“Oh dear,” he said, as Lizzie frantically yanked her hands up and out of the blankets.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” she said but he was already reaching down into the cot, grabbing her and lifting her out in his arms. “Put me down!”
He ignored her thrashing limbs, carrying her from the nursery towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. He knocked on the door and waited as Lizzie continued to try to squirm her way free.
“What is it?” Sir Doyle’s voice boomed out from within. “I’m trying to shave in here.”
“She was touching herself,” James replied.
“I wasn’t!” Lizzie protested as the door to the bathroom opened and Sir Doyle appeared, his upper half uncovered apart from a towel around his shoulders.
“Was she indeed?” Sir Doyle said as Lizzie stared at the firm muscles of his chest, unable to look away. “Bring her in. Put her down there.”
He pulled the towel from his shoulders and laid it out on the tiles. James placed Lizzie on her back before stepping away. “Will there be anything else, Sir?”
“No, thank you. I will take it from here.”
He waited until James had left and the door was closed before turning back to Lizzie who looked up at him. “I gave you a command, did I not?”
“You did,” she replied, moving to sit up.
“Stay there,” he snapped, striding over to her. “You are not an adult at all, are you? Incapable of following a simple instruction. You are little in mind and spirit, it seems, incapable of obeying me. Do you do it to offend me? To hurt me? Is that it?”
“No, I wasn’t touching myself, I swear.”
“Do not add lies to your list of offences. I did not want to have to do this but if you are going to act little, you might as well look little.”
“What are you going to do?”
“You will see. Lay back and do not move.” He said the words in a low voice, as if daring her to disobey him again.
Lizzie watched as he crossed to the bowl of water he had ready for shaving. He carried the bowl to her, setting it down beside her feet. Dipping his hand into it, he pulled out a shaving brush. Working up a lather with the soap that floated in the bowl, he then lifted her dress with one hand to reveal her core. “There is no use denying it,” he said. “Wet and swollen, not signs you can hide. Tell the truth, did you orgasm.”
“No,” Lizzie said.
“Are you sure?”
“I…I was close,” she admitted.
“That’s at least honest.” He pressed the shaving brush between her legs, rubbing the foamy lather into the triangle of hair above her core. Working the brush downwards, she felt the warm foam trickle between her legs.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m going to shave you,” he replied, standing up and fetching the razor, brandishing it in front of him. “Make you into the little that you are.”
“Shave me? You don’t mean that?”
“I certainly do. Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before touching yourself without permission.”
He again knelt between her legs and as he did so, she closed her eyes, unable to look. She felt the cold metal of the razor scrape through the foam and her hair, brushing its way slowly down her stroke by strok
e. “Lift your knees,” he said as he moved towards her core. “Now spread your legs for me. That’s it. Keep still or I might nick you and we wouldn’t want that.”
She could feel his hands between her legs, moving her labia around so that the razor could reach every last hair. “There,” he said at last, his hand coating her with a thick cream which he began to rub into her sore skin. “So much better, I can see it all now.” He worked the cream into her folds, his hand repeatedly brushing over her clit and making her gasp though she kept her eyes tightly shut, refusing to look at him for even a second.
“Are you done?” she asked, her voice weak as she began to pant for breath.
His fingers slid down over her entrance towards her bottom and she clenched her buttocks in protest, not wanting him to move any further down, despite the call of her body. “You cannot stop me from doing anything I choose,” he said. “That is part of being submissive. Stand up this instant.”
Lizzie surprised herself by getting to her feet in seconds, her hands clasped behind her back, the strange sensation of the dress on her bare skin making her shiver as she did so.
“Walk over to the chair and stand next to it.”
As Lizzie moved across the bathroom, he strode past her, sinking into the chair and pulling her onto his lap, draping her over his legs, her bottom directly above his hips, pointing up at his face. “Touch the floor with your hands.”
She stretched down, his hand on her thighs to stop her from falling. The instant she touched the floor, he began to spank her, gentle blows at first that grew in strength the longer he went on. Lizzie soon lost count of the number of smacks, her bottom stinging, her chest hitching, his hand landing again and again and again.
“I am in charge of you,” he said, gripping her buttocks in both hands, squeezing hard. “Reach back and spread your cheeks apart.”
She almost fell forwards but he grabbed her hips, yanking her back into place. With trembling hands, she took hold of her buttocks, moving them apart, wincing internally as she felt his eyes staring at the most hidden part of her. The heat of her skin where he’d struck her was shocking to her hands but when he smacked her again, she forgot everything but the sting of it, another spank landing and then another. Then his hand was between her buttocks, stroking a slow line down over the ridged entrance to her posterior, making her shudder with unexpected pleasure but then he spanked her again.
He built up a rhythm, spanking her then playing with her puckered hole, circling it, nudging towards it as if he might enter it, then smacking her again until she was a wreck in his lap, moaning and gasping, her breath laboured, wanting him in her, wanting him to stop, no longer knowing what it was she desired most.
“Do you want to come?” he asked, his hand sliding down to her wetness, then back up to her bottom again.
“I do,” she gasped.
“Should I let you come?”
“Please, I’ll do anything, I just can’t take this anymore. It’s too much.”
“I will let you come if you agree to wear a nappy and frock the entire time you are in this house.
“I agree, please, just do something. This is agony.” All the time she spoke, his fingers were nudging her bottom. She let out a gasp as the tip of his thumb dipped into her bottom, stretching her entrance wide open with a mingled pleasure and pain she did not understand.
“You can come if you return to me in two minutes wearing a nappy, a dummy, and nothing else. Go.”
Chapter 16
Charles woke up in bed the next morning after a very strange dream. He had gone to little Beth’s house, finding her an adult yet still beholden to her parents who were shouting at her for wetting the bed. He had stepped between them, finding little Beth’s hand slipping into his. As he went to take her away, her father became an ogre, a club in his hand, his skin grey, his hair gone.
He roared in anger, the club smashing through the air, becoming a cane as it moved. He caught the cane, twisting around and all of a sudden, he was on a honeymoon with little Beth, the two of them snuggled naked in bed together, her hands sliding over his body. He blinked as she moved to grab his member and then he was in the teaching room with little Beth bent over her desk, the cane striking her, the scream she let out when the blow struck was piercing enough to wake him from his slumber, the sound of it still ringing in his ears even as the dream faded away.
He sat up, blinking away the sleep and trying to slow his racing heart. It was not real, he told himself, you are not married to her. There are no ogres, her parents are dead. It was a trick of the mind, calm yourself.
He wondered if the anger in his dream that came from her parents was due to the anger she had displayed when he had refused to let her climax the day before. It was hard not to let her, but if he was to stick to his system, he had to be disciplined, even if his body yearned for him to take her there and then, to make the most of her submission by pushing himself as deeply into her as he could, burying his member inside her.
His shaft throbbed in bed as he tried not to think about that desire. It would do him no good, not if he wanted to keep her and not scare her away completely. It had been the need to maintain control that had so frustrated her yesterday.
She had returned to him in the bathroom looking exquisitely beautiful but innocent at the same time. Wearing only the nappy, roughly tied between her legs, and with a dummy in her mouth, she had even put her hair in bunches, giving her a look that tore him in two. Part of him wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight, protect her from harm forever as she looked so frightened and timid as she stood shuffling her feet and awaiting his approval. But at the same time, the sight of her half naked, her chest flushed with colour, her nipples hard, her eyes flashing that hunger he had seen when she was begging to come, it was too much. If he didn’t send her away, he would have to take her and that might ruin everything he’d worked towards.
“Go,” he said, pointing to the door. “Spend the rest of the day in the nursery.”
“But that wasn’t the deal,” she said through the dummy, looking crushed by his reaction. “Have I done something wrong? Do you not like how I look?”
“You look perfect,” he admitted. “Now go.”
“But you said I could come.”
“I changed my mind. Now get to your room and stay there, you don’t get to question my decisions. Go!”
He heard her crying as she left and he wanted to run to her but he told himself not to. His instincts said sweep her up in his arms and it would all be okay, but he knew he couldn’t trust his ardour to remain in check. He was not supposed to have any desire towards her at all. He cursed his luck, realising he was starting to fall for her. The wager was supposed to be a simple thing, one week with her and then send her packing. But now the thought of shoving her out of his door made him feel ill, as if he hadn’t realised how empty his life was until she came along and showed him how it could be filled, a life of looking after her, nurturing her, loving her. All things that he neither expected nor wanted, not with Glossop breathing down his neck.
He went out riding for most of the day, tiring himself and Brutus in his efforts to silence the churning thoughts in his head. He arrived home as the sun was setting, hiding himself in the library and reading one article after another, losing himself in the work of creating a submissive little. Discipline, not desire, he repeated so often it became a mantra, still echoing round his head by the time he went to bed.
Waking up after the dream of her, he dressed quickly, ignoring the throbbing ache of his member as he descended the stairs to the dining room. There, little Beth was already waiting for him, standing beside her chair with James at the back of the room ready to serve them both.
“You look lovely,” he said, stopping before her. “Have you the nappy on as required?”
She nodded. “James did it for me.” Lifting her dress, she flashed the nappy and a slight section of her tummy, enough to make Charles’ member twitch again. He brushed past h
er, muttering, “Good, good.”
Sinking into his chair, he was glad the table blocked the view of the bulge in his trousers. Motioning for little Beth to sit, he nodded towards James and a minute later, the table was laden with breakfast things. The maids who brought the food worked in silence, leaving as if they had never been. Only when Charles was alone with Lizzie did he begin to eat, steadfastly refusing to look at her, unable to take such beauty without sustenance inside to fortify himself.
“Have I done something to annoy you?” she asked, making him look up at her.
He saw the confusion in her eyes and immediately felt guilty. “No, of course not. You are doing everything right, little Beth. It is me who is at fault here.”
“Why, Sir?”
“It does not matter.”
“But you look so angry with me.”
“Do I? Come,” he said, patting his lap. “Come and sit here.”
She stood up and walked round the table, climbing onto his lap as he picked up the milk bottle and slipped it between her lips, looking down at her and smiling at the sight of her sucking down the milk so readily. He stroked her hair absently as she drank, able to ignore his feelings until she shifted position on his lap. Her eyes suddenly widened and he realised she could feel the bulge of his member pressing into her buttocks. He coughed and was about to tell her to move away when she shuffled again, her thighs brushing over the bulge.
She continued to drink whilst rocking her hips slowly back and forth against him. Though his trousers and her nappy were between them, he felt almost as if he were rubbing into the wetness of her core and he stiffened further, barely able to focus on anything but the sensation of her grinding back and forth in place on his lap.
