A Captain For Christmas

by Louise Taylor

  She shook her head, unable to stop the angry tears from falling down her cheeks.

  "Tell me," she said angrily. "Was Miss Hortop surprised when you scaled the wall to her window that night? Did she shout, and wake the house, as she did not expect you in her room on the second floor, on the side of the house?"

  Jonathan flushed red, but said nothing.

  "You will not say, because you would not damage a lady's reputation so," Serena said mockingly. "How very noble of you, Mr. Luttrell. How very much like a gentleman."

  Her eyes fell on the small pile of clothes thrown over the door to one of the stalls. Jonathan wasn't a dandy in the style of Brummell, but he did take care over his appearance. While he followed the fashion of wearing an elegant dark coat, with well-tailored dun breeches and a white shirt, he was known to wear a more extravagant waistcoat on certain occasions. The garment on the stall door was a beautifully embroidered garment sporting some rather fanciful birds.

  Moving quickly, Serena snatched the waistcoat from the door and bolted for the big open entrance to the stables, which led to the yard.

  "Serena?" Jonathan said, confused, taking off after her. "Serena, what do you think you are doing?"

  His long legs should have given him the advantage, but she was determined and had a head start. She barrelled out into the stable yard, surprising the stable master and head groom, who were conferring about something. She spotted her target, the dung heap, and headed straight to it.

  A working stable always generated a lot of dung, which was used happily by the gardeners to fertilize their gardens. The gardeners must have been leaving the pile to grow for a while, as by the time she reached the slightly steaming, odoriferous pile, it was quite sizeable. Hearing Jonathan's pounding footsteps behind her, she quickly threw the waistcoat onto the dung heap. Grabbing a nearby pitchfork, she thrust it into the pile, causing it to tumble onto what had once been an exquisite piece of clothing.

  "What have you done?" Jonathan bellowed, trying to snatch the pitchfork from her and rescue his clothing.

  "What I want to do to you, you louse!" she shouted back, unconcerned that they had gathered a crowd of stunned grooms.

  "That was one of my favourites!" he shouted, winning the battle for the pitchfork.

  "Good luck in ever wearing it again!" she jeered.

  "Lady Serena!" the stable master called, walking over quickly. "Is everything all right?"

  He looked nervously from the daughter of his employer to one of the family's most frequent guests.

  "Fine, Stillman," she said haughtily. "I believe Mr. Luttrell and I have come to an understanding."

  The last word was said with such a snarl that both Jonathan and the stable master took a step back from her.

  "I believe I understand perfectly," Jonathan said, through gritted teeth.

  "Fine," Serena snapped. "Lunch in an hour in the dining room for you and William."

  He nodded his head sharply, gave up on the waistcoat as a lost cause, handed the pitchfork to Stillman the stable master and headed back into the stables. Serena shook out her skirts, nodded regally to the stable master and swept back into the house through the side door.

  "What do you think that was all about?" the chief groom asked, in wonder.

  "Don't rightly know," the stable master replied. "But I doubt that young gentleman has seen the last of Lady Serena's temper."

  The side door to the house slammed shut, causing the horses in stalls close to it to complain at the sudden noise. A loud curse came from the back of the stable.

  "Reckon you're right, there," the chief groom said wisely.

  She ate her lunch in her room on a tray, not willing to be at the table with that insufferable man with only her brother for company. She picked at her food, the tension in her stomach making her unable to eat more than a few bites.

  How could he have done that to her? How could he have taken what had been the most magical night of her life, and turned it into something so mortifying? For all that time she had thought that she was special, that he was as in love with her as she was with him. What a complete and utter fool she had been.

  Destroying his fancy waistcoat had been more than a little childish of her, she knew, but had not been able to help herself. Her rage at his treatment of her was still burning inside, and she wanted more revenge. She wanted to make him feel as embarrassed and betrayed as she was feeling.

  She sat in her bedroom, huddled up on the bed with a blanket for warmth and comfort, and started to plan what she could do as revenge. Steal his correspondence and reveal its secrets? That was a possibility, but it rather required him to carry scandalous letters on his person. Men were not as fastidious about writing letters as women were, in her experience. Perhaps she could start a rumour about him that would embarrass him. There were several ladies of her acquaintance that just loved spreading juicy gossip. Ah, but what could she say?

  She was puzzling this out when she heard her bedroom door open and shut.

  "You can take the tray, Sarah," she said, without looking around. "My apologies to Cook, but I'm not really in the right sort of mood to eat."

  "I hope you're in the right sort of mood to take your punishment," a familiar voice said, just before the latch closed firmly on the door.

  She looked up and saw Jonathan Luttrell advancing towards the bed. She gave a little scream and tried to move away, but her arms and legs were tangled up the blanket and it took her a few seconds too long to free herself.

  He reached over the bed and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her across the coverlet. She shouted for help, but he quickly pulled her to his side and clapped a hand over her mouth.

  "According to a very friendly maid, your mother is fast asleep after taking a powder and your father has dragged your grumpy brother out around the estate to make him realise some of the duties he has to face now that he is Penscombe," he told her, gritting his teeth as she struggled against his grip. "All of the servants are sitting down to their lunch in the servants' hall. In short, there is nobody to hear you. You may scream and shout if you wish, but there is no point."

  Serena frowned at him, but eventually nodded her understanding. He was correct. All the indoor servants would be down in the kitchen now, having their meal now that the family had eaten. There was nobody to hear her scream for help, and if there were, they would discover her with an unmarried man in her bedroom. She would be ruined.

  She stopped struggling, and he took his hand warily from her mouth. Satisfied with her lack of yelling for help, he began to tug at her again. She tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he was just too strong. Those muscles she had always admired were conspiring against her now. She had no idea what he was trying to do to her at first, but once he had hoisted her over his knee and started pulling at her dress, she understood completely.

  "Unhand me!" she shrieked, kicking out and trying to wriggle off his lap.

  "If you act like a child, you will receive a child's punishment," he said calmly, adjusting his grip so she was more firmly situated over his broad thighs.

  "You dishonoured me!" she cried, feeling the cool air of the house on her stockinged legs. Her garters kept them on firmly, just above the knee, but like most ladies of the time, she had no other undergarment to protect her body from Jonathan's gaze or the flat of his hand. She was not even wearing a corset that day, merely a boned chemise, which gave her the shape she required under her column style dress. This chemise was lifted along with her dress.

  "I would have made my apologies to you, if you had stayed long enough to hear them," he said grimly. "There was no need to run away from me like I was some kind of monster, and definitely no need to bury my waistcoat in the dung pile!"

  "You deserved everything you got," Serena hissed.

  "And you will deserve everything you get," he said grimly, before raising his hand and bringing it down smartly onto her bare backside.

  Serena could still feel the impression of his hand on her ski
n even once he had lifted it. Lord, it burned! Just as she had gasped in indignation at the first blow, he gave her another! Once again, the stinging slap came down on her poor, innocent bottom, leaving a burning ache behind it. Another two slaps followed, one on each cheek, each landing on a previously un-spanked section of her behind.

  By now her bottom was burning, and was quite the warmest thing in the cool room!

  "Enough!" Serena shouted, desperately trying to cover her backside with her hands. "Enough! Jonathan, you have spanked me enough!"

  "I don't think so," he said curtly. "That waistcoat cost me thirty shillings! That's one spank per shilling!"

  "Thirty shillings!" Serena shouted, after the quick fall of another two blows on her backside. "How could you spend so much on…"

  Her advice on matters financial and sartorial was lost as she wailed her way through a set of seven or eight solid whacks to the behind from his hand. Her backside wasn't just burning now, but there was a deep ache also setting into her rapidly reddening skin.

  "You embarrassed me, and you embarrassed yourself, and you embarrassed the servants!" Jonathan lectured as he spanked and spanked and spanked. Serena sobbed and wailed as she tried to kick out and stop him from spanking her, but it was to no avail. He merely adjusted her position, locking one of his legs around hers to stop them moving.

  The pain was all consuming, Serena found; she had always been a good child, and had never received any punishment more painful than a quick slap on the wrist or the back of the leg. This spanking was showing her just how aware one could become of an area of one's body! Jonathan was careful to cover all of her exposed backside with his large hands, ensuring that not an inch of her was spared the torment. He even slid a hand between her thighs to part her legs, allowing him to catch the flesh there as well, which really made her cry.

  It frustrated her that she could not move to avoid the spanking, but he held her so tightly that she could not break his hold. Some part of her mind detached from the experience mused on how funny it was that she would have done anything to be held tightly by him only this morning, and now all she wanted was for him to let her go! She could not laugh, for all her energy was being saved for wriggling and sobbing, and truth be told, the fact was not that funny.

  She could not say how much time had passed during her spanking. It had felt like forever and no time at all, which confused her. When he eventually stopped spanking her, she still cried, bracing herself for another blow to catch her abused bottom.

  She was manhandled again, until she was in a sitting position on his lap. This did not do much for the pain in her bottom, but he allowed her to sob into his chest, making the soft material of his shirt wet with her tears. He put his arm around her shoulders.

  "Don't cry," he said kindly. "It is over now."

  "But it hurts!" Serena wailed. "You hurt me!"

  "I punished you," he corrected her. "You behaved like a naughty child, so you had to suffer the consequences."

  "But you kissed me, and thought I was someone else!" she complained, through a series of hiccuping sobs.

  "It was an honest mistake," he said softly. "Serena, I would never have behaved so badly with you if I had known it was you under that mask."

  "But you would have with Lucy Hortop," she mumbled, turning her face away from him.

  "Lucy Hortop knows that a few kisses don't have to mean very much," he told her, catching her chin and pulling her back to face him. "She's a game girl, and will land a husband who likes a lusty wife. But I think that, to you, a kiss means a lot more."

  "It doesn't anymore," Serena said, looking away. "I have been silly, and now I've learned my lesson. I shall have to be more like Lucy Hortop."

  "Oh, you don't want to do that," he scolded. "It's a terrible thing, being a woman. You have to be sweet and demure to the world and passionate enough to keep your husband's interest at home."

  Serena's cheeks blushed as red as her backside.

  "Lucy Hortop seems to be doing all right," she muttered.

  "Is that really what you want?" he asked, his voice sounding husky. "Do you want to know what Lucy Hortop would do, if she had been across my knee like you have?"

  "I think she would cry," Serena stammered, as his hand not holding her shoulder started to creep up under her dress and slide up her leg.

  "Oh, she'd be wailing all right," Jonathan agreed, smiling. "But not just out of pain. Like I said, Lucy's a game girl, always happy to try new things."

  His hand was higher now, parting her thighs. Serena clutched his shoulders and gasped as she felt one of his fingers slide along her slit. She tried to pull away, but she was held too firmly in place.

  "I was right to spank you for ruining my waistcoat," he told her, running his finger up and down her most private place, "but I am beginning to see why you were so upset. I shouldn't have kissed you in the garden, and promised to climb through your window; I got you all hot and bothered and didn't get you off."

  "Get me off?" Serena asked, puzzled.

  He chuckled. "Oh, so innocent," he said, leaning his forehead against hers.

  He moved his finger so that he parted her folds and unerringly found a spot that Serena had no idea existed. He rubbed it gently and she convulsed in his arms, gasping aloud. It was as if he had set sparks loose in her body, little brief flames of pure pleasure that burned briefly then died away.

  "More!" she demanded, when she could speak again.

  "Greedy," he chided, although with a smile.

  He moved his finger again, this time allowing others to move about her folds as well. His pace was slow and steady, creating those brief sparks, but it seemed lacking somehow. She began to jerk her hips against his fingers, encouraging him to move faster.

  He took the hint, this time using the pads of two of his fingers in a quicker rhythm against that magical spot. The sparks returned, but stronger now, more intense, lasting longer and merging to build something bigger. She could not speak, merely grip onto the man who had caused her so much pain and was giving her so much pleasure.

  Her whole abdomen was tense with anticipation. It seemed as if something big was going to happen, something spectacular, she was sure. Her breath was coming in pants now, as was Jonathan's.

  "That's it, you can do it," he urged. "You want to come for me, don't you, Serena?"

  She did, she truly did – she had no idea what he meant, but right now, with the pleasure he was giving her, she would do anything for him, anything at all, even suffer another spanking!

  Then, suddenly, something seemed to break inside her, and the tension that had been building was shattered in an instant by a shock of sheer bliss so powerful that it robbed her of the ability to see clearly – little spots of light danced in front of her eyes, and she collapsed bonelessly into his arms.

  He held her closely, panting as much as she was before groaning.

  "It is too much," he said, shifting position to stand before laying her carefully over the end of her bed. "No man could resist such temptation!"

  Serena was lost in her own bliss, and she barely noticed the firm mattress under her cheek, or the cool breeze on her legs and backside as Jonathan yanked up her dress and chemise again. She could hear some fumbling with cloth and his hurried curses, so she turned her head to look back over her shoulder.

  He was standing over her, his breeches unbuttoned, with his member in his hand! Young ladies of quality such as Serena were not supposed to have any idea about the male form, but a tour of a few art galleries during her Season had shown her paintings of the naked form that her mother had not been quick enough to draw her away from. All the paintings were very old and were Italian, from the Renaissance period. All of the men portrayed in them had very small members indeed. Serena had come away from those brief glimpses with a confused impression that all men sported members of no more than an inch or two long.

  Either Jonathan was massively disproportionate, or those artists had a real problem with perspective, Se
rena thought groggily. She watched as Jonathan slid his hand up and down his member, which was standing freely from his body and not dangling limply as she had seen in the artwork. He was making soft grunting sounds and was somewhat red in the face. She watched, confused, wondering what was going to happen next.

  Whatever she had imagined, it was not that liquid would spurt from his member and land squarely on her reddened bottom! She lay completely still, shocked as the cool drops landed on her. He grasped hold of one of the four posts at the corner of the bed to support him as he tucked himself back into his breeches.

  Serena wasn't quite sure what to say – or do! She opened her mouth to speak, but just as she did, she heard the very worst noise she could possibly hear.

  "Serena!" her mother called. "Serena, are you in your room?"

  "Oh no," Jonathan said, going pale.

  "Hide!" hissed Serena, scrambling to her feet and yanking her dress into shape.

  "Where?" he asked, sounding desperate.

  "Wardrobe," Serena said firmly, throwing open the door, pulling a dress off its hook and tossing it onto the bed. "Get in!" she urged, and watched as he pulled his long limbs into an impossible contortion to make himself fit.

  Serena hurriedly pulled off her dress and chemise, using the undergarment to clear up the mess from her behind before tossing them under the bed. There was a clean chemise draped over a chair, left for her earlier by her maid, so she tugged it over her head and struggled into the new dress. These new styles of gown made it very easy to dress without a maid to help; you didn't even have to wear a corset any more, if you did not wish to.

  Her door rattled.

  "Serena?" barked her mother. "Why is this door locked?"

  "I am changing, Mama!" Serena called, looking at the state of her hair in disbelief. Hurriedly she undid the braids that her maid had plaited this morning and ran a brush through it.