Awakened by a Lord: Victorian Nights

by Victoria Whitlock

  It felt as if the whole room were charged suddenly with an odd and heady energy, as I waited for James to do whatever he might do to me.

  Surely he’s not actually about to spank me like a disobedient child, I thought to myself, my breath clutched in my throat.

  But then all of a sudden, sure enough, he indeed brought his hand down upon my tender flesh, the loud sharp crack of his palm against my rump reverberating all around the quiet of the bedchamber, the only other sound being the soft little cry that escaped my lips.

  “How did you like that then, girl?” James asked, the playful tone still there in his voice. “Want another?”

  My skin seemed to sing in pain from the surprisingly powerful way he’d slapped it, but it was the most curious thing, dear reader, for I discovered that indeed I did wish for another strike of his hand against my rump.

  “Yes,” I said quietly, my voice just a trembling whisper, utterly sincere now in its pleading. “Yes, I do, James. I do ...”

  “Very well,” he replied gravely, the room once again seeming to descend into silence for a moment before exploding into life in a sharp chorus of pain and pleasure, as I felt his hand strike my tender flesh for a second time, and I heard the crack flash loudly around the room.

  And this time, after his hand had struck my rump, I felt his rough fingers slip between my legs from behind, too, teasing the opening to my sex with his hot thick fingertips, causing me once again to moan and shiver upon his knee, as he drove his fingers a little further inside me. But just as I felt that delicious bubbling begin to build in my tummy, he withdrew his fingers, and then ... Crack.

  A third time he struck my rump, even more powerfully than before, causing me to cry out, my mind flashing white from the sheer force of this strange new sensation. For it was not just pain, but it was not just pleasure, either. Rather it was in intermingling of the two, to create a third distinct sensation – just the same as that night when he’d first taken me.

  And I felt as if I could have lain across James’ lap as he administered this ‘punishment’ for a whole hour or more, but soon enough he had pushed me roughly from his knee and onto the bed sheets. I moved to turn onto my back, but at this he stopped me in place, holding me there by the nape of the neck as if I were an unruly animal.

  “No, remain like that, girl,” he said, a strange tightness to his voice.

  And so I remained where I was, sprawled upon the sheets, my face nestled in the pillows, my bare rump still exposed to the room, as behind me I could hear James unbuckling his breeches with his free hand.

  But however would we enjoy ourselves in a fashion similar to our last two nights together, I wondered to myself, if I were to stay here like this, face-down upon the sheets? For as I am sure you have ascertained by now, dear reader, I knew positively nothing of the goings-on between men and women behind closed doors ...

  As if in answer to my question, I felt his hand move again between my legs, his fingers roughly grazing my tender folds, moving back and forth, even pushing a little ways into me like that, before he withdrew his hand, and then, climbing up onto the bed behind me – for I knew as much, from the way it creaked – he actually began to press his swollen hotness right against my opening from behind.

  There was a pause, as I heard him groan and strain behind me, and then a moment later, I gasped as I felt myself stretching wide open for him, his hot thickness slipping right inside me.

  He shifted behind me, so that I felt the full broadness of his back covering me now, his hot breath against my neck, my face still buried in the sheets, my whimpers and sighs stifled by the cloth that I had pinched between my teeth, as I felt his hands clamp upon my thighs, spreading me beneath him so that he could ease himself even further inside me.

  Again, I felt that curious intermingling of pleasure and pain as he began to slide that hot beast of his slowly in then out of my most delicate place, causing the most heady sensations to rise up from within my breast and stomach, seemingly with each new thrust of himself – ever harder and deeper inside me.

  Soon I found myself positively thrashing and crying out beneath him, lost in my own sensations, not caring if the whole of Hartford Hall heard my cries, as he plundered my willing flesh with his hardness, and in a rush it felt as if my whole body were bubbling over in the most pleasurable sensations, culminating with such force that I could not help but moan – a low, animal moan, my mind once more flashing white from the sheer intensity of my pleasure, my whole slender body shuddering and trembling beneath him. And just as I was recovering from my own light-headedness, it seemed as if the sensations grew too much for James, too, for with a final deep thrust of himself inside me, he felt forward onto me, pinning me beneath him as he too cried out, his whole body shuddering, and deep inside me it was the most curious thing – for I felt that thick delicious part of him shuddering too, as if it had a separate life of its own, pulsing forth a liquid warmth deep inside my belly.

  A moment later, he shifted off me, pushing himself up beside me on the sheets and drawing me to him, turning me and pressing his lips upon my own, and I trembled again, though this time from a much more gentle feeling that flooded my bosom – a feeling of simple happiness and warmth, perhaps even love.

  I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth while we were still kissing, and a moment later I had to pull my face away from his to let out the cheerful little laugh that had been building within my breast.

  “What is it, my darling?” James murmured.

  “It is nothing dear,” I replied in a whisper. “I am simply happy. That is all.”

  I awoke late the next morning, by a hand softly rocking me awake. At first I thought it might be James, but no, I was again back in my own bedchamber, nestled beneath the sheets, and the person who seemed so insistent on my waking was Emily.

  “But madam, you are still asleep!” she explained, when I asked her what her urgency was in aid of. “But you shall be late for your coffee morning at Lady Violet’s!”

  And as I shook off my slumber I realised that yes, of course, yesterday, as she had left, Lady Violet had indeed pressed her visiting card upon me, explaining that her ‘at home’ was on Friday mornings at ten o’ clock.

  “Quick, if you dress now, you shan’t be late!” Emily continued, seemingly more concerned that I should not miss my appointment with Lady Violet than I was.

  And as I dressed, Emily gasped: “Lady Amelia! Whatever have you done to your leg?”

  For she could see one of the bruises that covered my upper thigh, from James’s rather rough treatment of me, just the previous night.

  At this, I felt a flush of embarrassment.

  “Oh, clumsy me,” I exclaimed, as lightly as I could. “I tripped over the furniture, dear Emily. You see, the layout of this room is still so unfamiliar to me!”

  And I marvelled with a strange private satisfaction how easy it was to lie; you see, dear reader, this was something I had never really done myself before now.

  “Well, do be careful, madam,” Emily replied kindly, before helping me pick out an appropriate outfit for my morning’s appointment.

  For all her other skills, I must note here that Emily seemed to posses an especially finely-honed skill at choosing clothes for me to wear. In just a few moments, she had picked out a simple pink day dress with matching bonnet, and as I admired myself in the floor length mirror, it was all I could do not to let out a little laugh of satisfaction – for I looked like a real lady!

  “Oh Emily, thank you for your help,” I said sincerely.

  “I’m afraid there’s not time to talk, madam,” she replied, “for we are still in rather a hurry!”

  And with that she had bustled me downstairs, and out to the front of the house where the carriage stood waiting, the exact same simple black carriage that had transported me to Hartford Hall just a week or so ago.

  But this time, as I got inside, I realised that I was to ride in it alone – in a confined space, no less, and with
a stranger, with a man who was not my husband: the driver.

  At first, I spent the short journey unable to enjoy myself, so perturbed was I by the idea of spending my time in this carriage alone with the driver. But after a while, when he showed no signs of engaging me in conversation, I finally found myself unwinding somewhat, and I even ventured to try and enjoy the scenery, for it was hard not to get caught up in the beautiful views from my carriage window: the luscious rolling countryside and pleasant green hills all so different from the bleak, treeless moorland landscape that surrounded Sandwell Hall. I watched the lakes and hills and little darling villages that I longed to explore roll past my carriage window, and I told myself that soon James and I would come and explore them all together.

  About half an hour later, we drew up outside Lady Violet’s country house. It was similar in nature and design to Lord Hartford’s manor, set in its own gardens, but I also realised that it was somewhat smaller too.

  My carriage was greeted by a young footman, who helped me down, brazenly offering me his hand, which I took rather hesitantly. And he in turn passed me to a butler – another young man, who looked me straight in the eye and even ventured a smile at me, and I found myself struck all over again at how different this all was from my life of just a few short weeks – all these men, and all these new places I was visiting; why, it was all so darned unusual!

  The young butler led me through a series of large corridors to the living room of the house – which was decorated in delicate whites and blues. From the very moment I laid eyes upon it, I could tell that this room was extremely elegantly decorated. And although the house may be somewhat smaller than Hartford Hall or indeed Sandwell, I could sense that its furnishings made up for its lack of size, for this room was clearly the very height of fashion.

  There were six or so women already present, all drinking tea, and I took a seat at the nearest table, next to Lady Constance and Miss Jane, both of whom looked pleased to see me.

  I ventured a glance at the rest of the assembled ladies – all handsome and well-dressed, and of course sitting there in the very centre of the room was Lady Violet.

  I admit I had been feeling rather worried about seeing Lady Violet, because I felt that she thought me merely a stupid young country mouse who knew nothing of society, but to my great surprise she actually gave me a little smile, and then proceeded to stand and even introduce me to the other three women in the room – Lady Helen, Mrs Juliet, and her daughter Charlotte.

  And soon we were having a positively lovely time, all talking and sharing stories as if we had known each other for years. The women were asking excitedly about my trousseau and admiring the brand new dress I was wearing. And I felt a flush of happiness, as I sipped from my cup of delicate Lady Grey tea and savoured the lovely cakes on offer, feeling as if perhaps I did finally belong amongst these beautiful, refined ladies, after all.

  Soon enough, I even found myself sitting in a quiet corner with just Violet, chatting away, telling me all about the local society. Perhaps I have made my first real friend! I thought excitedly. Oh, how wrong I had been to judge her during that first meeting.

  “So, how are you finding your new husband?” she asked me.

  I thought about this question, and although I was enjoying Violet’s confidence and understood that she perhaps only wanted me to share some private detail for her own amusement, at the same time I felt a powerful loyalty to Lord Hartford, and so instead I simply said, “I like him very well. He has been a fine husband to me so far.”

  At this, Violet looked all around her, then leant in close as if about to share some great secret. And then she whispered, “Tell me, Lady Amelia. Is he rough with you?”

  “No,” I replied, utterly puzzled – for in that moment I knew not what she could possibly mean. “He is an excellent and kind husband.”

  “You misunderstand me,” Violet persisted with a curious cat-like little smile. “I mean, between the sheets.”

  And as I finally understood her, I felt a sharp and sudden flush of heat to my face. Could she really be so brazen? And as I cast my eyes all about the room, looking for some way of escape from this uncomfortable conversation, I felt my blush increase yet further. For by now I must have been beet red with shame!

  “I think the colour of your face tells me everything I need to know,” Violet whispered, the strange smile lingering upon her thin lips. “Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Lady Hartford,” she continued, “But I myself am no stranger to your husband’s rather strange proclivities in the bedroom, you see. So I know very well just how frightening it can be. Please know that I shall always be here for you, should you need to talk further about this matter, and can certainly advise ways to get him to leave your delicate skin unblemished.”

  And as she spoke this last line, she looked me up and down, as if her eyes could see right through my pretty dress, to the dark bruises that indeed lay upon my delicate flesh.

  “Thank you,” I stammered, my head spinning.

  I had no doubt that she was speaking the truth, and had shared Lord Hartford’s bed. After all, how else could she know about his intimate behaviours and preferences?

  “Your morning chocolate, Lady Amelia,” Emily said from the doorway to my bedchamber, just as was her habit every morning.

  “Thank you, Emily,” I replied with a smile, rousing myself from my slumber and pushing myself up to a sitting position amongst the plump soft pillows, to take my breakfast – such was my new morning ritual, here at Hartford Hall.

  A few days had passed since my visit to Lady Violet’s, and now I found myself alone, for James had been away on business for a few days. And although I missed him dearly, I was also pleased that he was away, for Lady Violet’s confidences have left me feeling rather strange – and I seemed no closer to putting her words behind me. Instead, I had found myself brooding over them, often staring into thin air for long stretches at a time. This curious new emotion must be jealousy, I thought to myself. But having no friends or confidantes, I had no cause to experience this before. Even kind Emily had noticed, asking timidly if all was well, or whether I perhaps had taken some sort of turn. And I knew that such absent-minded behaviour would not make me a good wife, and so, as I have mentioned dear reader, I felt somewhat glad that James was away, giving me some time to come to terms with my thoughts.

  After I had finished my morning chocolate, I got out of bed, and went over to the dressing screen, behind which Emily had laid out a white cotton dress for the day, simple yet stylish – oh, what a wonderful talent she had for choosing my outfits! As I drew it on, marvelling at the way it perfectly showed off the chestnut shades of my hair, and the redness of my lips, both brought out by the beautiful white of the dress, I thanked fate for providing me with such a wonderful maid as dear Emily.

  And while I was dressing, I began to think to myself: It is true, what Violet told me did shock me. The things that men and women did together were so private that nobody could bring themselves to explain it all to a young girl such as I. Yet Lady Violet was practically boasting about her nights with James! I knew that my upbringing alone in Sandwell Hall was unusual to say the least, but I had no idea that it was considered correct conversation to discuss private matters over tea in the drawing room.

  Of course, James was not the innocent, as I was. The ways in which he had made love to me – educating me, no less – well, I suppose I knew all along, deep down, that he was experienced in the ways of the flesh. And I had to admit that I was pleased about that, because the things James did with me were indeed, excellent and I was doubly grateful to have a husband who knew what he was doing.

  I just wished he had not practiced his lovemaking on a woman who was now to become one of my intimate friends.

  And as my mind turned over this new perspective on the situation, the person I felt most sorry for now was no longer myself but Lady Violet: for I had noted in the many books I had read, although it was never expressly said aloud, that matters
like this contained a curious paradox, because young men were supposed – even expected – to sow their wild oats and gain experience in such matters, whereas ladies must remain pure as snow until their wedding night. And so who in the world was going to marry poor Lady Violet, now that she was tainted? I knew that James was discreet and would keep his experience with her a secret. I just hoped her other lovers were as similarly delicate.

  Once dressed in that beautiful outfit, I made my way down the stairs, and out into the garden, in order to take a refreshing morning stroll amongst the lovely ornamental flower gardens that surrounded Hartford Hall in all directions. And as I strolled, I marvelled again at just how beautiful and lovely my new home was – and what a lucky woman I was to live here!

  Taking pause to admire the scent of a particularly striking bloom of delicate pink roses, I realised that sure enough, I had now fully overcome my rather petty and girlish jealousies, and furthermore, I felt good and ready to see my husband, for in particular I was looking forward to some more of the ‘bedroom activities’ with which I was becoming accustomed. In particular, that rather curious ‘punishment’ which he had administered on our second night together.

  But what if that was simply a one-off activity, I thought suddenly. What if James doesn’t do that to me again? Because I want to make him do that again, I enjoyed it so. Simply the mere thought of his hand cracking against my bare buttocks, sent a shiver of delight and anticipation right through me.

  And so perhaps I must take matters into my own hand to ensure that he punishes me again, I thought with a devilish smile. Yes, I’ll just have to ensure that I am a little bit naughty, and so contrive another punishment ...

  With this last thought fresh in my mind, I headed back inside, and in the little drawing room where I had entertained the ladies, I looked around me for a moment before spotting an ornament standing upon a little wooden side table: a small china figurine of a shepherdess. It did not look like one of the priceless treasures of the house, of which there were many, and in comparison seemed rather inexpensive.