The Officer's Little Rebel

by Ava Sinclair

  “Naughty little girl!” she scolded. “First you show cheek at dinner and now here in your chambers? Well, my dear, if you want to show cheek, then you will pay the price.”

  “Where did…?” Imogen was about to ask the nanny where she’d gotten the switch she’d produced, but the older woman cut her off.

  “Never you mind where I got this,” she said. “Suffice it to say a well-prepared nanny always keeps a bit of birch on hand. Now keep your hands on that bed, young lady!”

  Imogen’s heart began to pound as the nanny parted the open seam of her petticoat, exposing her bottom. She wasn’t sure what to expect, and took comfort in the flimsiness of the switch. But that comfort was short-lived when she felt its bite across her bare skin. Imogen screamed as she slumped down to the floor, her hands clasping her stinging nates.

  “It feels as if a bee has stung me!” she cried. “It hurts so!”

  “As it should!” the nanny said, hauling Imogen up and positioning her back over the bed. This time, the larger woman kept a sturdy hand on her charge’s lower back, landing the switch five times as Imogen kicked and howled.

  It was a much more amenable young lady who obediently followed her nanny from the room, sniffling as she occasionally reached back to rub her bottom through the fabric of her skirt. The little lines had puffed into welts that itched and burned.

  Nanny Quinn led her to a small room where Major Kingsley was waiting. Imogen had never seen such a room before. It was all white, with a raised bed in the middle. Nanny Quinn explained that it was not a bed, but a table for medical examinations. Imogen wondered what sort of medical exam would require straps to hold the patient, since there were four of them on this one. When she asked, she was told there would be no need for the straps if she was a good girl and took her cleansing properly.

  “She’ll need to be stripped naked,” Nanny Quinn said to Major Kingsley. “Would you prefer to do it?”

  “Of course.” He smiled down at Imogen, but she could not meet his gaze as he removed her clothing, dreading the moment he noticed the stripes on her bum.

  “Someone got a taste of the birch,” he said when he removed her pantalets, and she flushed scarlet.

  “Yes, papa.”

  “And why?”

  “For my cheek at dinner,” she said with a sniffle. “And for not wanting you to be here for the cleansing.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because nanny has said it will make me desperately want to use the chamber pot, and that is a private thing!”

  He laughed at this. “And so it shall be,” he said. “But the cleansing itself is a procedure that may be frightening, and what better way to put your mind at ease than by having papa here beside you?”

  This made sense, although Imogen felt mortified when she looked over to see Nanny Quinn hoisting a bulging rubber bag onto a metal pole by the table. Affixed to the bag was several feet of coiled tubing with a thick tapered nozzle at the end. Imogen clung tightly to her papa as he moved to help her up to the table while Nanny Quinn lubricated the nozzle with some ointment from a jar.

  “She’ll need to be on all fours, with her chest pressed against the mattress and her little bum stuck up in the air,” Miss Quinn said briskly.

  Imogen groaned as Royce helped her into position, urging her to part her legs as he did so. The posture caused the skin to stretch across her bottom, bringing an additional sting to the welted stripes left earlier by the nanny’s switch.

  She felt lurid, exposed. But underneath it all was the twinge of excitement as she prepared for a new, unfamiliar invasion at the hands of the two people who now controlled her.

  “Just a moment’s discomfort, but you’ll feel so much lighter and cleaner after it’s all over,” Miss Quinn was saying. Imogen could feel hands parting her stinging cheeks, feel the nozzle pressing persistently against her puckered bottom hole. She felt its reflexive resistance and heard her papa’s voice urging her to relax. She forced herself to obey, and moaned as the slippery nozzle worked its way past the tight ring of muscle.

  “What a good girl you are.” Major Kingsley was rubbing her back reassuringly as Miss Quinn told her she was releasing the medicine from the bag. Seconds later, there was a warm rush of fluid that felt odd, but not uncomfortable, at least not at first. But then the pressure started, and with it a fierce cramping.

  “It hurts!” Imogen tried to rise, but Major Kingsley held her in place.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” Nanny Quinn said. “You just feel full, is all.”

  “It does hurt!” Imogen objected. “And I have to… I have to go!”

  “Nonsense. What you feel is the medicine working.” Nanny Quinn slid the nozzle out and a moment later, Imogen felt something larger pressing against her back passage. She gasped as she looked back to see the nurse’s capable hands sliding a smooth, tapered object with a round flanged head into her bottom. The disc protruded from her little rosette, spreading her cheeks slightly.

  “You’re plugged tight, little one,” Royce was saying. “Now you can relax and let the medicine work without fear.”

  A sheen of cool perspiration was covering her body, and Imogene felt shaky and weak. But her papa’s hands were sliding under her now, massaging her lower abdomen, the motion increasing the pressure but also the arousal that had begun to revive itself.

  “You’re helpless,” he was saying in her ear. “You must endure this. We’ve plugged your little bottom and you will have to hold the medicine inside until we say otherwise. Afterwards, when you’re bathed and brought to my room, I’ll personally examine your little bottom… and more…”

  His words had all but made her forget about the churning in her guts, and the flush she felt was now more from arousal than fear. By the time Nanny Quinn helped her to a small anteroom so she could relieve herself of the medicine, all Imogen could think of was spending time with her papa later that evening.

  And Nanny Quinn was right; she did feel much better once the cleansing was over. Next came a bath and a fresh gown that was the perfect blend of innocence and allure. Soft pink bows tied at the top of her shoulders, and the diaphanous fabric did little to hide her charms.

  She was already dripping with desire when Nanny Quinn took her to his bedchamber. This was the first time she’d been in his room. There was a fire in the grate, casting a glow on the heavy, dark furnishings in a room so much more masculine than any she’d ever seen.

  “Papa is so proud of his little girl,” Royce said when he saw her. “You were very brave for your cleansing, and I think that means you’re settled enough for your training to begin.”

  “I’d like that,” she said.

  “Silly little thing,” he laughed. “You don’t even know what the training entails.”

  “If it entails your touching me between my legs, then I’ll like it.”

  “Oh, my…” He reached out and undid the ties on the top of her gown. “You are a bit of a minx. Whatever shall I do with you?”

  She was standing naked before him, and he lifted her up and carried her to the bed. Imogen watched as he stripped his shirt off. His chest was smooth and broad, his arms strong. He knelt down.

  “I love how you are my little girl, but also my beautiful woman,” he said. “It’s the best of everything, you know, having someone who is so innocent, yet so eager.” He paused. “I will marry you, and soon, my sweet Imogen.”

  “I will try to be a good wife,” she said. “And a good little girl.”

  His lips met hers then, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Imogen moaned, reveling in the weight of his body when he covered hers. He was so large, so strong. Her pussy throbbed with need. His mouth moved to her breasts and she cried out as he suckled one hard peak and then the next, his fingers stroking between her legs as his mouth nibbled and teased.

  Imogen spread her legs, aching for his cock, and groaned in frustration when he lifted from the bed. Then her eyes grew wide at the sight of the thing, springing so straight from
the nest of hair and jutting up toward his belly. The tip of it was crowned with a drop of clear fluid.

  “Would you like to touch it?”

  She sat up, her eyes on the turgid shaft. She licked her lips, remembering how he’d said she could put her mouth on it, swallow his seed. She remembered how he’d filled her the first night they were together, the warmth of the jet he’d spurted into her. Why did the thought of swallowing his tribute arouse her so?

  She rose from the bed, sinking to the floor in front of Royce, her eyes alternating between his handsome face and the huge cock in front of her. She reached out, putting her hand around the girth. He let her explore him with an innocent curiosity. Imogen moved her hand down, pulling the skin away from the mushroom-shaped head. He groaned. She leaned over, kissing the tip, so smooth and warm and velvety soft.

  “Let me? Please?”

  He did not ask her what she wanted; they both knew. Imogen pushed the skin back again, her mouth following her hand around the shaft, her lips closing over the head, her tongue tasting the salty liquid pearl he’d produced. His hands wound in her hair and he shuddered, and Imogen realized then the power she had over this man who would give her everything.

  He guided her head up and down his shaft as he instructed her on how to hold him. Imogen felt something akin to reverence, knowing how vulnerable he was now in the confines of her mouth. His cock grew hard, the swelling almost difficult to contain. His balls grew tight in her hands, and she knew he was about to spend. She relaxed, eagerly anticipating his spend, ready to swallow.

  But it was not to be. He lifted her up almost roughly and pushed her forward over the bed.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, fearful.

  “No, my dear,” he replied. “You did everything right, but I brought you here because I’ve been able to think of nothing but this…”

  He drove into her then, the invasion of his thick cock in her tight, slick sheath the most exquisite pleasure-pain she’d ever felt. Imogen cried out, feeling her pussy begin to ripple on the length of him, drawing, pulling, her core pulsing in waves of ecstasy. She pushed against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He was ramming into her hard, and she could not get enough.

  “Oh, you’re so sweet,” he said. “So sweet. So wet. My sweet little one.”

  “Oh… papa…” she said, and the words caused him to spend then, his cock pulsing hard as it filled her with jet after jet of his cum, his balls slapping her pubic mound as he thrust into her.

  He held himself aloft with one strong arm to keep from collapsing onto her back.

  “I love you, my little Imogen,” he said, and her heart soared at the words.

  “And I love you,” she said. “And I like training.”

  He chuckled at this.

  “It’s not over yet.” He was slipping from her, and she felt his exit accompanied by a surge of seed that dripped from her well-used slit. But he was doing something else now, and she looked back to see him pushing a wooden plug against her pussy. It was similar in design to the one the nurse had plugged her with earlier, only a little larger. He was swirling it in her open slit, coating it with both their creams, and now she felt it nudge against her bottom hole as he huskily ordered her to relax.

  “It’s a stretcher,” he said. “And it will stay in to expand your bottom for my cock.”

  “So I’ll… stay stretched? Is that a good thing?”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry. The stretchers will only make it easier for you to take my cock up your bottom without pain. When I’m not using you thusly, your little posy will stay nicely closed.”

  “Oh,” she said, and then oh again as the tip of the stretcher slid in. There was a burning and a pressure, but when she stood up with the thing fully seated, she felt proud to be carrying this reminder of their encounter in such an intimate place.

  He lay down on the bed then, pulling her into the curve of his arms.

  “So I get to sleep with you tonight?” she asked drowsily.

  “Would you rather I put you back in your own little bed?”

  “No,” she said. “I never want to be away from your arms unless I have to be.”

  Chapter Nine: The Incident in the Study

  By the first day of December, Imogen could read. In fact, her proficiency in learning got her high marks on all her subjects. But reading was her favorite, and Royce allowed her access to the library, where she lost herself for hours in fairytales and books on natural history. The nursery, which had been long completed, had its own bookshelf, and her papa indulged her with books that delighted her.

  Her favorite was about a pony named Pepper, and on Christmas Day when Royce gifted her with a beautiful pony similar to the one in the book, along with a dollhouse and carved figures, she could not help but cry, for the significance was not lost on her.

  “You remembered,” she said. “You remembered the story I told you about my mother saying I could never have a dollhouse like my friend because I had no papa to buy them for me.”

  “How could I forget?” he asked. “I’ve been waiting for the day to correct that wrong.”

  Imogen was happier than she could have ever imagined, and happier still that a wedding was planned for February in the chapel on the grounds of Stonehaven Manor. Major Kingsley himself was designing the dress, and while she knew this was something that most women would not care for, it made her very happy to think he would see her on their wedding day as the image of perfection he imagined. Even on a day like today, when her papa was busy seeing to business on his estate, he was not far from her thoughts.

  “You’re going to be late for your tutor!”

  Imogen had been playing in her room with the dollhouse when her nanny walked in, fussing over the hour.

  “Hurry, hurry!” Miss Quinn said. “I promised to have tea with Mrs. Philbert and I’ll be late after walking you down.”

  “You don’t have to walk me down, nanny,” Imogen said. “I can find my way to the study, you silly thing.”

  “No cheek!” Nanny said, then softened. “But I know you can find the way, so I’ll let you go unescorted. This once.” She smiled then and pinched Imogen’s cheeks kindly. “You really are the best of all girls.”

  “Thank you, nanny,” Imogen said, turning with a smile. She had tucked her book and slate under her arm as she headed downstairs. The door to the study was usually closed, but today it was slightly ajar. Imogen was about to walk in when she stopped.

  It couldn’t be, she thought. But it was. Her tutor had his back to her, but was going through Royce’s desk. He was picking up papers and looking at them intently before putting them back down. Imogen frowned. He was snooping, but why?

  “Mr. Sutton.”

  He turned suddenly, his face surprised for a split second before transforming into a mask of calm.

  “Imogen,” he said, his tone slightly peevish. “Your nanny said you may be late, but here you are, right on time.”

  “And obviously unexpected,” she said.

  He flashed an uneasy smile. “And why would you say that, Imogen?”

  “Why were you in Major Kingsley’s desk?”

  “I was looking for a quill.”

  “Your quill is over there.” She pointed to where her tutor’s supplies were laid out on the table.

  “Ah, so it is,” he said.

  The two regarded each other, the ticking of the grandfather clock filling the silence between them.

  “I don’t think Major Kingsley would like you rifling through his things,” she said.

  “Young lady, I was not rifling,” he replied. “And I would thank you to keep a civil tongue.” He paused. “Did you do your lessons?”

  “Yes.” She nodded to the book under her arm. “I read chapter four of the book you assigned me, and did a whole page of figures.”

  “Good. Let’s get started.” He walked over to the table, and by the set of his jaw, it was clear that Mr. Sutton was in no mood to discuss why he was in her
papa’s desk. He started in on her lesson, dispensing with his regular jocularity and assigning her a bit of reading in the middle of the session, which was unusual for him.

  As Imogen settled into her book, Mr. Sutton excused himself from the study. He was gone for nearly an hour, during which time she heard her papa come back into the house. Finally Mr. Sutton reappeared to complete the lesson and pack up his things. He left without saying goodbye, and a few moments later Major Kingsley entered the library, looking irate.

  “Young lady, would you like to tell me what went on here today?”

  She looked at him, perplexed.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Your tutor was beside himself. He said you hardly paid attention and were disrespectful to him.”

  “Papa… he’s lying!” Imogen was on her feet.

  “Lying? He was so vexed he came to me halfway through the lesson and asked me if I could have his permission to cane you. But then he seemed to take pity on you, saying your demeanor was out of character and that he’d give you another chance…”

  “Papa, it’s not true! If he’s angry it’s because I came in and found him going through your things!”

  “Damnit, Imogen!” Major Kingsley put his hands on his hips. “He said you told him you’d accuse him of snooping if he said anything. I can’t believe you are actually doing that!”

  “He was snooping!”

  “Nonsense! He’s a good tutor with impeccable references. If you aren’t feeling up to studying, then just beg off for the day. But I will not have you embarrass me with your sullen behavior, or make up stories to get your tutor in trouble because you’re angry with him!”

  “I wasn’t sullen!” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “And I’m not making up stories! He’s a liar, and I cannot believe you are favoring him over me.”

  “Good grief, child. Go to your room. Now, before I forget myself and thrash your bottom purple.”