Sophie's Voice

by HELEN HARDT

  Again, a grunt.

  Zach smiled. He took that as a “yes.”

  * * *

  Sophie rose early on May Day to walk about the estate and gather flowers to take to the festival. She smiled happily as she sat on the veranda, filling May baskets and then fashioning the white, yellow, and pink blooms into a crown for her head. She made one for Ally as well, even though her sister couldn’t attend the festival. The wreath would bring some brightness into Ally’s bedchamber. With more posies left, she couldn’t resist. She made tiny garlands for Maureen and little Sophie.

  “Sophie, how grand! You’ve brought in the May!” Ally gushed when Sophie presented her with the crown. “You do look stunning in that white morning dress. I suppose you bathed your face in the morning dew as well?”

  Sophie smiled. Bathing one’s face in the morning dew on May Day was an old wives’ tale, said to preserve one’s beauty. “You know there’s never enough dew for that.”

  “When is Mr. Newland calling for you?”

  “Soon. I’m so glad the earl is letting him escort me. In fact, I should go. He could be here any second.”

  “Do have a sensational time, Sophie.”

  * * *

  Zach arrived promptly, and the two delivered Sophie’s May baskets to tenants on the Brighton estate. Iris and Sophie had placed loaves of Cook’s delicious white bread in the baskets under the flowers.

  “Don’t be seen,” Zach teased. “I’ll not let anyone claim a kiss from you but me.”

  They laughed together as they rode the rest of the way to the celebration outside of Bath, arriving in time to see the parade led by the May Queen. She was none other than Lady Patricia Price-Adams, Cameron’s sixteen-year-old sister. Her coal-black hair was a striking contrast to the white peasant dress and flowers she wore, and her sapphire-blue eyes gleamed as she laughed, tossing petals to the children, including her adorable brown-haired sister, Lady Katrina.

  “Tricia looks absolutely stunning,” Sophie said, clasping Zach’s hand.

  “She does,” he agreed. “It’s quite an honor to be chosen as May Queen.”

  “I admit I don’t know much about these traditions,” Sophie said. “My father never allowed us to celebrate, and when he died and we moved to Mayfair, my Uncle Crispin wouldn’t allow it either, being a devout Christian.”

  “The May Queen represents the Roman goddess Flora, who personifies spring.” Zach smiled. “Are you hungry? There’s a feast to be had here, my lady.”

  “You know, I am, actually. I got up with the birds to gather flowers for the baskets, and I had not but a scone with lemon curd to break my fast.”

  “Then let’s get you some beef on a stick and a Beltane Cake.” Zach took her arm.

  “A Beltane cake? What is that?”

  “Beltane is the English pagan name for May Day, and it’s a celebration of fertility and renewal. Perfect for spring, of course. A Beltane cake is a rich eggy confection with scalloped edges. But,” he warned, his eyes grave, “if you get the piece that has been darkened with charcoal on the bottom, you might be pelted with eggshells.”

  Sophie jerked back. “What?”

  Zach laughed. “Old folklore, love. That won’t happen today, I promise you. The only people who get the blackened pieces at this festival are jesters who are paid to be in on the fun.”

  The cake was indeed rich and delicious, though Sophie sneaked a peek at the bottom. No black charcoal mark, thank goodness.

  Next, they took part in the Maypole dance. Zach led her in the patterns of the dance, and they each held an end of ribbon, weaving it around the pole.

  They watched groups of men dressed in green-and-white do a rhythmic dance with swords to folk music. Morris dancing, Zach called it. By then, midafternoon had set in, and the party was becoming raucous. Alcohol was flowing freely, and a group of pagan Druids were starting the spiral dance. Sophie had seen the dance last summer, at the Midsummer celebration, but this time, the Druids began stripping off their clothing.

  Sophie shuddered, looking away.

  “Sorry, sweet. Things tend to get a little rowdy at this festival. It’s the celebration of fertility and all.”

  “I don’t particularly want to see anyone create life here out in the open,” Sophie said. Clearly, the Druids were headed that way. The air was thick with lust.

  “I understand. I’ll take you home.” Zach kissed her cheek chastely and took her arm.

  But Sophie didn’t want to go home. The mood of the festival had aroused her. She felt free. Alive and free. Sexually free. And bold.

  “It strikes me, Zach, that I’ve never been to your home. Might we go there?”

  * * *

  “Spectacular!” Sophie gazed with widened eyes.

  Zach’s townhome in Bath was lush with the finest furniture in the parlor and dining room. Decorated in hunter green and burgundy, the entire home screamed of masculinity. It was perfect for Zach.

  Of course, what she really wanted to see was his bedchamber.

  As they ascended the stairway, Zach said, “Sophie, I don’t think you know what you’ve done for me. I still can’t believe someone could stick her neck out for me like that.”

  “My parents found out,” Sophie said demurely. Iris had spoken to her quietly the previous night. She’d left the earl out of the conversation, thank goodness.

  “Yes, I know. Brighton spoke to me.”

  “Oh!” Sophie cringed. “I hope he wasn’t too hard on you.”

  “No. I got to escort you to the festival, didn’t I?” He winked.

  Sophie smiled, her body tingling. “You don’t have to thank me anymore. I did what was right. But I do have to thank you for the lovely day at the festival.”

  At the top of the stairwell, she grabbed Zach and kissed him. She was not in the mood for formalities. She wanted Zach, and she would have him. Now. And she had a surprise for him.

  She bit on his lower lip, its lushness filling her senses. So soft and full, like silk against her tongue. As they kissed ferociously, Zach toyed with the buttons of her dress in back. Soon the white silk was in a heap on the wood floor at the tops of the stairs.

  He ripped his mouth from his. “God, love, you’re not wearing a corset.” His breath was ragged.

  She smiled, her body blazing. Her surprise. “I didn’t have a peasant dress to wear to the festival, but I wanted to be authentic in some small way. Peasant girls often don’t wear corsets.”

  “Your figure is so exquisite I didn’t even notice.” He thumbed her nipples through her gossamer chemise. “It’s a crime to bind these breasts, Sophie. You should never wear a corset again.” He lowered his head and sucked a nipple right through the fabric.

  She groaned. Oh, she could climax from his stimulation of her nipples alone! Soon her chemise and drawers joined the dress in the white puddle on the floor.

  “Zach, your servants…”

  “Shh, love. I gave them the day off for the festival. They won’t bother us.”

  He kissed back up her chest to her earlobe and sucked on it. She pulled the billowy pirate shirt he’d worn to the festival out of his britches, reached underneath it, and traced her fingers up his abdomen to his exquisitely golden neck.

  “Oh!”

  With a whoosh, Zach had lifted her and carried her to a doorway like a pirate’s prize. He walked her through a sitting room into a decadent bedchamber. The furniture was dark oak, and a burgundy-and-black Oriental rug covered the wood floors. The bed—oh, the bed—was covered in black silk.

  Zach set Sophie gently upon the soft duvet, the silk smooth and cool against her skin. Then he stood, removing his shirt over his head. His chest beckoned her, those copper nipples begging for her touch. She drew him forward and began working on his britches. They were old-style peasant britches, laced with leather cord rather than buttons and a belt. Her hands shaking, she unlaced them and pushed them over his muscular thighs. His erection was apparent underneath his drawers. He fluidly removed
his boots, stockings, and drawers and then knelt beside the bed, spreading her legs.

  Soon his tongue was probing her pussy as he feasted on her. Sophie moaned, reaching down and threading her fingers through his silky locks, pushing him farther into her heat.

  When the convulsions started deep within her, she released one hand from Zach’s hair and clenched her fist in the silk comforter. Higher and higher she soared, crying out, and when she hit the pinnacle and began her descent, she found her other hand pinching her nipple.

  Touching herself—how could anyone think it was bad?

  Zach climbed up to her and kissed her, letting her taste their delicate mélange of flavors. Her pussy still throbbing from her climax, she sighed as he lay down beside her and pulled her on top of him.

  “Ride me, my love.” He thrust up into her, filling her.

  Sweet joining. Sophie again cupped her own breasts, fingered her nipples, tugging at them and pinching them.

  “So beautiful when you touch yourself,” Zach rasped. “God, Sophie.”

  He reached forward and touched her clitoris. Pop! A climax hit her so hard and so fast she nearly fell on top of Zach. He held her, still thrusting, nursing her through the euphoria. When she calmed, Zach pulled her off of him.

  “I’m not ready for it to be over yet, Sophie.” He sat up, pulled her over his knee, and smacked her bottom gently. “Have you been a bad girl, my Sophie, my love?”

  Sophie wasn’t sure what he meant. She said nothing.

  “Your reputation has been ruined by saving me from the hangman’s noose.” He smacked her again. “Was it worth it, my Sophie?” Smack!

  “Yes, it was worth— Oh!” She began climaxing against his hand. Placing his fingers inside her, he urged her on, milking her climax until he’d squeezed every drop of pleasure out of her.

  When she was coming down—smack!—he slapped her again. “Your bottom is so dazzling, Sophie. How I adore it.” He rained some tiny kisses on her the cheeks of her buttocks, and then— Smack! One, two, three more times he spanked her.

  The sting permeated through her, metamorphosing into pleasure as usual, but then—

  Smack!

  And again, harder—Smack! Smack! Smack!

  Sophie bit her lip. The pain…it was no longer transforming…

  Smack!

  She gnawed furiously at her lip, drawing blood, tears forming in her eyes. Should she tell him to stop?

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  No, let him. He needs this. He needs you to understand… But she could no longer bear it. “Zach! Stop it! Please!”

  Strong fingers massaged her buttocks. “What have I done? My love, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s…all right…” She sniffed.

  “No, Sophie, it is not all right. Your bottom is way too red. Why didn’t you stop me?”

  Tears rivered down her cheeks onto the black silk of the bed. “I…I wanted to understand. You…seemed to need it.”

  Zach turned her over and pulled her into his arms, caressing her shoulders, her arms. He cupped her cheeks and forced her to meet his brown gaze. Tears misted in his eyes. “My God, you’re a treasure. But Sophie, I never need to hurt you. You must always tell me what your limits are. When you say stop, I will stop, no questions asked.” He wiped away an errant tear. “God, I’ve become a beast. My worst nightmare.”

  “I…I’m sorry, Zach. I should’ve said something.”

  “Yes, you should have. But you have no reason to be sorry. I am not the one who is hurt here. You are.” He buried his head in her shoulder. “Sophie, please don’t leave me.”

  Sophie squirmed, escaping his grasp, and sat on the bed next to Zach. She gasped. No doubt about it—her bum was sore.

  Zach covered his face with his hands, sobbing softly. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”

  Sophie took both his hands in hers, unmasking his face. His smoky eyes were sunken and sad. “I’m not going anywhere. What is this about?”

  Zach stood. “I want to run you a warm bath, Sophie. It will ease the pain.”

  “You didn’t answer my question—”

  “I have to do this. Please, let me take care of you.” He walked to a door and opened it, entering what was presumably his bath chamber. A while later, he called Sophie in.

  Sophie couldn’t help staring. The bath chamber was luxurious, even nicer than those at the Brighton estate. A claw foot tub stood with real running water. While her mother and the earl’s bath chamber had running water, the rest of the chambers at the estate did not. She still depended on Hannah to prepare her baths.

  Zach had regained his composure somewhat. He lifted her and gently placed her in the tub.

  “Zach,” she hedged. “I… I won’t deny that I enjoy your spankings. But we’ve never talked about this. We’ve never talked about why you enjoy giving them so much and why I enjoy receiving them.”

  “I honestly haven’t thought about it much,” Zach said. “I’ve always liked to take a dominant role in the bedchamber. Some women like it. Some don’t. If they don’t, I don’t do it. You… You were something special from the beginning. Somehow, I knew without asking that you would enjoy a spanking. It’s like…your body told me what to do.”

  “I was quite surprised that I do enjoy it. I’ve always been rather conventional, as you probably guessed. I had no sexual experience—not even a kiss—before I met you. But something about you…”

  “I understand perfectly. Something about you too…”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Sophie said. “I… Well, I’ve told you before that my childhood was less than happy.”

  “Yes, you have.” The sadness in his eyes flickered again.

  “The truth of the matter is, my father was a tyrant. He beat and raped my mother. And he also beat Ally and me.”

  Zach widened his eyes, the anguish on his handsome features increasing. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me he—”

  Sophie shook her head. “No. He never touched either of us in…that way, thank God. My mother saw to that. But Ally was so strong. Even though she was two years my younger sister, she would provoke our father, make him come after her to spare me. I don’t know why she did it. I’ve never talked to her about it at length. But she protected me, Zach. She protected me when I should’ve been protecting her as the older sister.”

  Zach sniffed. “I’m so sorry that you went through all of that. But if I know your sister, she did what she wanted to do.”

  “Yes, she wanted to protect me. She always considered me so fragile. And I was a timid child. I’m still a timid woman.”

  “You don’t seem so timid to me.” Zach managed a slight smile.

  Sophie closed her eyes, inhaling the fragrant steam of the bath. “My actions have shocked me, truth be told. I can’t seem to control myself with you.”

  “Nor I with you, my sweet. Today seems testimony to that effect.”

  She opened her eyes. Again his face was etched with grief.

  “Please,” she said, cupping his cheek and drawing him to her. “I promise you I’m all right.”

  “That will never happen again. Never.” He closed his eyes. “Go ahead, love. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Sophie cleared her throat. “The spankings… They unnerved me at first, mostly because I enjoyed them so much. And I couldn’t figure out why, coming from my childhood. Something that was such a heinous part of my life—why would I enjoy it now?”

  “It seems pretty clear to me,” Zach said. “You’re taking the punishment for your sister now. You feel a lot of guilt that she took your punishment when you were children, and now you crave it.”

  Sophie widened her eyes and let her jaw drop. Was that truly what she was doing? “But why would I…?”

  “Sophie, it’s just a theory. You may just enjoy spankings. A lot of women do. But coming from your background, psychologically speaking, it seems to make sense.”

  “Oh, but that makes me so…crazy.”

  Zach
let out a tiny laugh. “Crazy? You’re about as far from insane as any woman I know. You’re kind and sweet and good. Not to mention achingly beautiful and sensual. If you enjoy the spankings, what does the reason matter? Perhaps you are seeking the punishment your sister took for you. Or perhaps you just like being spanked. If it gives us both pleasure, why should we not do it?” His face fell into anguish again. “Of course, I can’t risk hurting you again.”

  Sophie pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You won’t. I won’t allow you to.”

  He swallowed visibly, nodding.

  “And what you said about the spanking giving us both pleasure—you sound like Ally. She’s a firm believer in pleasure. But as far as I know, she’s never been spanked.”

  “Yes, as far as you know…” Zach gave another small smile.

  “If you have a theory as to why I enjoy the spankings,” Sophie said, “do you have a theory why you enjoy giving them?”

  Zach wrinkled his forehead. “I never really thought about it. My childhood wasn’t great either. My father died when I was a babe and my mother when I was seven. I begged her not to leave me, but she was ill and so weak, Sophie. We had no relations that I knew of, so I had to beg in the streets until I was old enough to find work.”

  Sophie’s heart nearly broke. “Oh, Zach, I’m so sorry. Is that why you ask me not to leave you? Because of your mother?”

  Zach arched his eyebrows. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about that either.”

  “I can’t bear the thought of you begging, being hungry.”

  “I’ve long gotten past it. I found work in the stables at the home of one of the gentry in London. It was there I realized my love of performing. The young ladies in the household got drama lessons, and I would sneak in and watch them. One time, the instructor, a young man, made them bend over and he smacked their bottoms. I’m not sure why he did, whether it was part of the lesson or whether they had done something bad. But I was aroused by the sight of it. When I lost my virginity to a servant girl years later, when I was fifteen, she asked me to spank her. I did, and she seemed to enjoy it. None of this explains why I enjoy it, however.”