“What a sweet little cunny she has, Jeremiah. Hardly any hair there at all!” Lord Sutton murmured in approval as he sipped his brandy.
Abigail moaned in shameful horror at the comment. With the ottoman facing the sofa, Lord Sutton had a perfect view of her cunny and her humiliation. Lord Brynwood sat down next to his friend.
“You will see now that having your bottom walloped is a luxury compared to other punishments,” Lord Brynwood said. Abigail hardly had time to mutter a quick plea of apology before he brought down the paddle firmly against her soft nether lips.
Abigail screamed louder than she had ever screamed in her life. Heated pain ripped through her body as her cunny clenched against itself. The one spank against her cunny was worse than a hundred against her bottom. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. So consuming was the pain, she almost lost her grip on her legs.
“Hold your legs tightly,” Lord Brynwood said without sympathy. “Or you will receive twenty strikes from me and twenty from Lord Sutton.”
Abigail groaned pitifully as hot tears flooded down her face. Lord Brynwood brought down the paddle again, a loud whack against her inflamed cunny. Abigail howled and thrashed about as a volley of unbelievable pain was unleashed upon her poor and exposed cunny.
But just as the pain became past intolerable, she felt the fiery heat transform into a different sort of storm. The striking paddle sounded differently from before. Instead of the initial dull sound of wood against flesh, there was sharp wetness to the paddle as it thwapped against moist tissue.
Abigail felt the moisture leaking out of her quite against her will. Each strike was just as painful, if not more, than the previous one, yet she could feel a rising wave of heat within her that had nothing to do with the pain.
When Lord Brynwood released his final smack, Abigail threw her head back and cried out hoarsely in release. A warm and heavy wave of pleasure crashed against her body with such force, she felt she might lose consciousness. A deep and wracking ecstasy warred throughout her body as the pain still pulsed between her legs.
“Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous, Jeremiah!” Lord Sutton cried. “Look how her swollen little cunny quivers. What a responsive little girl she is!”
Lord Brynwood ran a thick finger across the swollen tissues, puffy and dripping with her need. “Indeed she is,” he murmured as Abigail moaned at his touch.
Abigail had never had an orgasm in her life and couldn’t understand where such a sensation had come from. A deep ache still resonated from between her leg yet the taste of pleasure still rang throughout her body. She lay against the ottoman, completely depleted.
Lord Brynwood had Abigail stay on the ottoman with her legs held against her chest, her inflamed cunny open for display, till the maid came to fetch her for bed while he and his guest finished their drink.
Six
Over the following days after her cunny paddling, Abigail began to slowly fall into the routine Lord Brynwood had set for her at the manor. She took breakfast in her room and then was dressed for the day. She had lessons with Mr. Oglethorpe till late afternoon. She was allowed free time to enjoy the manor grounds till dinner. After dinner, she reported to Lord Brynwood her day of lessons and he would either punish her or praise her for her efforts of the day, often a combination of the two.
And Abigail was beginning to see the benefit of her lessons as well. She was reading faster and she was making fewer mistakes in her compositions. She realized that the leather bound books that had adorned Lord Brynwood’s library were more than just props for a room. They were entire worlds that were just waiting to be explored by a curious mind.
Her curiosity was encouraged by Lord Brynwood. He was pleased to see her thriving under his guidance. A naturally clever girl, she was now given the right environment to allow her intelligence to grow. Whenever she received a low voiced word of praise from the earl, Abigail felt a pleasurable glow light within her. She wondered secretly if this was what a family was like.
And no longer was she a skeleton of a girl, hardly weighing enough to fill a dress. She had filled out enough to show the pretty features her thinness had hidden. Still quite small in size, she now had the coloring and energy of a healthy person. And such good care had restored her ankle much faster than he had secretly hoped it would. With both legs restored to her, he could see Abigail itching for more activity.
One night in his study, after reading Abigail’s good report from Mr. Oglethorpe, Lord Brynwood carefully regarded the little girl. “I will be needing to go into town tomorrow for some business. You may accompany me if you can promise to be a well-behaved and proper little girl.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. Town! Her legs itched to walk along the cobbled streets again. Although she felt a quick flick of icy fear at the thought of Pinzer, she reminded herself that it had been over two weeks now since she had entered Brynwood Manor. Surely Pinzer would’ve moved on by now. Two weeks of looking for one extra petty criminal was a lot of time to waste when you were hungry and thieving. Abigail nodded. “Please, I would love to go, milord,” she said eagerly.
Lord Brynwood nodded. “But you will mind your ankle. It is still healing and I will not have you re-injure it. Stay near the carriage and within the call of my voice,” he said strictly. “Otherwise, you will be a very sorry little girl.”
Abigail nodded quickly, fully believing his threats now.
Although she had walked the streets of town more times and in more ways than probably most its residents, she felt different coming back now in Lord Brynwood’s handsomely equipped carriage.
Wearing a short dress of soft pink with a small cream bonnet and traveling cloak, she felt like a little princess. Although she had been initially shocked that Lord Brynwood had insisted she still dress as a little girl into town, she was now feeling warm in knowing she was under his protection. Everyone would see her step out of the Earl Brynwood’s carriage. They would know she was under his care.
As the horses pulled to a stop in front of a clerk’s office, Lord Brynwood stepped out then picked Abigail up from under her arms, setting her down on the street. He looked down at her, his eyes stern and his voice sterner. “Now, what did I say about where you may go today?”
“Near the carriage and within the call of your voice, sir,” Abigail parroted back. Lord Brynwood smiled and nodded.
“Then off you pop. I shan’t be long,” he said and headed into the clerk’s office.
A few days ago, Abigail would’ve capitalized on this chance to run as fast and as far as possible from the carriage and the earl. But now she felt the warmth and security of knowing she was only allowed to stay near Lord Brynwood. And she wanted to obey.
As she strolled the nearby streets, she watched as people passed by her and smiled. She initially felt an awkward fear in wondering why they were all so kind and pleasing to her. She was used to people glaring at her or better yet, just completely ignoring her. But as she passed by a shop window and caught her reflection, she realized what they were seeing. Reflected back in the glass was a sweet little girl of mahogany curls, perfectly encased in a child’s traveling bonnet. She looked like the well-to-do daughter of a great man.
Safety and warmth encapsulated her heart as a lady passed by her murmuring, “What a sweet little child.”
Abigail glowed at the remark.
“Yes, what a sweet child indeed,” a slimy voice purred from behind her.
Abigail whirled around in fright and came face to face with Pinzer, standing in the shadows of an alley.
Everything about Pinzer was long—long face, long nose, long and lank hair. His body was thing and malnourished like any street thief yet he had a wiry strength about him that scared all the children he recruited under him.
A long fingered dirty hand gripped Abigail by her arm. “I’d know that face, clean or dirty. If it isn’t my brat Abigail. My, haven’t you changed,” he said in a voice dripping with charming sarcasm.
Abigail stood frozen in ter
ror. Memories of cold nights, hungry mornings, and bloodied beatings overwhelmed her. Pinzer had found her. Pinzer had found her!
“How did you come by these clothes, girl?” Pinzer growled, his grip tightening as he pulled her further into the alley.
Abigail could find no way to make her mouth form words. She remembered the constant loneliness, the ever-present fear that she had lived with when under Pinzer’s thumb. She didn’t want to return to that. She didn’t want to fall back into that black void.
“Let go,” she whispered frantically, yanking at her arm. “Please, let go.”
Pinzer’s brows rose. “Your accent has even changed. Oh, think you’re better than us now, do you, girl? Think you’re no longer a gutter rat with the rest of us, do you?” He squeezed her arm, making her yelp in pain.
“No, I don’t,” she gasped in terror. “Please.”
“You stole from me. You stole from me the goods that you owed me the day you went missing. And you owe me goods for every day you’ve been gone. You’ve cost me dear to keep you alive and healthy as I have for all these years. And you repaid me by running off to play some fancy miss,” Pinzer snarled, spitting in anger.
Abigail felt the darkness closing in on her. She remembered how hard Pinzer’s fists would connect with her jaw. There was no fighting him. She had learned early on to just crumble in defeat and to let him tire himself out. Abigail already felt her knees buckling in self-defense.
“Abigail!” a clear and strong voice called out, cutting through her terror and her hopelessness.
Abigail twisted her head and saw Lord Brynwood standing near the carriage, looking down the opposite end of the street for her. “Abigail!” he called again.
Pinzer gripped her tighter. “Oh ho, so that is your generous papa now, is it? What’s he done? Married you? Adopted you? Looks like a titled man from here. Who is he?” He shook her for an answer
Abigail closed her mouth, refusing to answer.
Pinzer smiled. “Oh that’s fine, chickie. Don’t answer then. It’ll be easy enough to find out who he is. And believe me, when I do, I will ruin him,” he whispered, his face only inches from hers, his breath foul and rank. “I will let it be known that he is sheltering a whore, a common doxy. I will let it be known he has adopted a thief, a criminal. A man of his rank does business solely on reputation alone. And how will he do, do you think, when he is known to be the harborer of ill moral and crime?”
Abigail’s eyes widened. She shook her head desperately. “Please,” she whispered, her voice cracking with desperation. “Please don’t.”
Pinzer grinned, revealing an array of colored teeth. He yanked her close and slowly licked her lips. Abigail closed her eyes in disgust and fear. “Then come back to me. Find a way to come back to me with enough money to make it worth my time not to ruin your goodly prince there. Then,” he said smiling, “I shall be merciful and take you back into my good graces and allow the good prince to carry on with his reputable life.”
“Abigail!” A touch of impatience growing in the earl’s voice.
Pinzer released her arm. “One month, Abigail. I give you one month. Or I will make the both of you very, very sorry,” he said, slipping into the shadows of the alley.
Abigail ran back across the street, her heart thumping against her chest. The light had gone out from the day. Everything was now over. Abigail felt the breaking of her heart as she realized that safety, warmth, and love were now slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.
It really had all been too good to be true.
Seven
Abigail would’ve taken leave of the earl that day on the street to save him if she could’ve but she knew that he wouldn’t have stopped looking till he had found her. Pinzer had known that as well or else he would never have let her go. As much as it broke her heart, she would have to find her own way out.
Lying in bed with tears in her eyes at knowing she was about to bid farewell to everything she had learned to love, Abigail decided the only way she could leave without the threat of Lord Brynwood following is for him to turn her out. Clutching the silk lined covers against her chin, she steeled her heart to misbehave and become an impossibly horrible girl such that Lord Brynwood would want nothing more than to kick her back towards the alleys she had come from. And hopefully, before having to leave, she would be able to snatch something of value on her way out to buy her freedom from a beating.
Hot, broken tears streamed down her cheeks. She must do this. She would not let any harm befall any of the manor’s residents, least of all Lord Brynwood.
She began the next day by refusing her lessons. She mustered up the best tantrum she could, even going so far as to throw her composition book into the fireplace in front of Mr. Oglethorpe’s horrified eyes. This resulted in the worst beating she had received yet from the tutor, nearly hobbling her.
She began eating again with her hands, wiping sauce and food across her beautiful skirts. She talked back with attitude towards Lord Brynwood and flung her poor reports from Mr. Oglethorpe at him in the evenings.
Lord Brynwood was confused at her sudden turnabout in behavior. She had been making excellent strides, thriving under his control. He wondered what had suddenly set her off into this mania of rude and nearly berserk behavior. But he stood his ground and met each tantrum with a firm hand and a strong knee. With each punishment, he tried to push her back towards the progress she had been so beautifully making only a short while ago.
But after two days of such trying behavior, Lord Brynwood had just about had enough. He sat in his study, enjoying his evening brandy and waiting for Abigail to come present him with her daily report from Mr. Oglethorpe. He sighed and hoped that there would be some improvement from the scathing missives he had receiving lately towards Abigail’s conduct. He had a sneaking suspicion the only reason why Mr. Oglethorpe had not already yet quit was because he refused to have his glowing reputation blemished by one recalcitrant student, especially a recalcitrant student under the protection of the well-respected Earl Brynwood.
Abigail appeared at the study door, stomping in before being acknowledged. Her muddy feet traipsed across his thick Aubusson rug, leaving dirty footprints. A maid trailed in after her, her mouth agape in horror as she cried out at the stains. Lord Brynwood motioned her away as his eyes narrowed at this new tactic of outburst.
Abigail’s dress was absolutely covered in mud from the waist down. She had smears of dirt across her cheeks. She stood defiantly in front of him, her eyes ablaze with anger and stubbornness.
“Where is your report?” Lord Brynwood asked calmly, feeling his temper slowly come lose at its tether.
Abigail crossed her arms. “I’ll save you the trouble of reading it, milord,” she bit out rudely. “I was terrible and quite the hellion towards Mr. Oglethorpe today. I threw my books and my slate against the walls. I burned the new composition book he gave me. He spanked me with a paddle but I promised him I’d be worse the next day.”
Lord Brynwood stared down into his snifter, trying to regain his control over his temper. He did not want to lash out in blind anger. But he was feeling completely at wit’s end with the hellish behavior Abigail had been displaying of late. He nodded with decision and, without a word, strode out of the study.
Abigail blew out a shaky breath of air. It was taking a bit longer to have Lord Brynwood truly give up on her. Her bottom and her cunny had been beaten raw and she could hardly sit or stand without feeling a reminding sting of pain. But she had endured it all and then acted even worse the following day to try and win her freedom. She would’ve laughed if tears hadn’t been pooling at her lashes. What freedom was she truly winning?
She heard the muffled steps of Lord Brynwood as he returned. He sat down on the sofa again, placing a covered silver tray on the ottoman in front of him. With no words of rebuke or anger, he simply grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, uncaring of the dirtiness of her clothes. She tried to struggle but it was useless. With
firm hands, he positioned her over his lap on the sofa. He pulled down her drawers and bunched her knees underneath her, so she was kneeling with her bare bottom on her heels and with her chest across his lap.
With her securely positioned, he leaned over her and grabbed something from the silver tray. Abigail completely pinned against him couldn’t turn her head to see what it was. Instead she felt something wet and hard push against her anus. She gave an alarmed cry and tried to pull away but Lord Brynwood captured her wrists and pinned them against her back, keeping her firmly in place.
“I’m sure, with your bottom as bruised and swollen as it is, you could not take another spanking without serious harm coming to you,” Lord Brynwood said calmly as he pushed the small wet intruder into her back passage. It felt as thick as a finger but was harder. “This will be a different type of punishment for you. Much harsher but without the bruising damage a paddle or a hand might make.”
Abigail didn’t know how this could be harsher. It certainly felt uncomfortable having something up there but it wasn’t worse than a paddling. She felt Lord Brynwood firmly seat the little invader. His hand then rested on her reddened bottom, as if waiting for something.
Abigail waited as well. At first she felt nothing but soon she felt a warm tingling sensation shooting around her tight ring of muscles. Then quickly the tingling intensified into a burning heat that itched and seared her little puckered anus. Abigail began crying out in pain and squirmed to loosen the tormentor. But every time she clenched her buttocks, the pain and burn only grew stronger.
“It’s a piece of ginger, little one,” Lord Brynwood explained. “When the juices of the root touch intimate places like your little anus here, it causes a very intense burning sensation.”
Abigail howled in pain as the burning only grew with time. She felt like the whole of her bottom was on fire from the inside out! She couldn’t help but wriggle and clench yet each wriggle and each clench only made the fire burn higher.
Disciplining The Thief - Complete Series (Historical Victorian Forbidden First Time Steamy Romance) Page 4
