She would confess tomorrow, she thought, in desperation, and be punished as Mr. Blackstone chose and saw fit.
Her fingers found their way to the sensitive nub, and she had but to stroke herself in the slick flesh lightly and only a few times, before her body shuddered and seized up, and the great cascade of sensations washed over her. The object in her bottom began to emerge, and she pushed it inside, biting the pillow next to her so that she would not scream.
After she spent, she was damp with sweat, and the realization that she had disappointed Mr. Blackstone began to creep over her. She felt guilty, and ashamed, even though her skin tingled and she could, she felt now, give in to the exhaustion that also seemed to be claiming her...
She would tell him tomorrow...
Chapter Sixteen
She was escorted tothe room with the secret passageway as her stomach twisted in knots. Upon entering, she was unable to suppress a sharp intake of breath as a cool shiver traveled over her bare arms and she trembled slightly.
Already, her cunny was wet and quivering with anticipation, and her cheeks burned as she thought of her confession to Mr. Blackstone. When she thought of how she would disappoint him, her heart seemed to fall through her body, and her bottom burned as she contemplated the strict punishment she might receive.
But coursing through her veins, always, was the need within her body: she wanted to be disciplined, she wanted to feel Mr. Blackstone’s hands upon her, she wanted, very much, to submit to him.
He was standing in the shadows as always, his silhouette pleasing as she remembered the contours of his body, the strength of his arms and his chest against her bare back.
“Miss Blanchet. You slept well, I trust?”
Lina inhaled, intending to respond affirmatively, and found that her mouth moved to form the words but no sound left her lips, at least nothing which could be considered words. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Miss Blanchet?”
“I...I...” she blubbered. “I...I must... confess something t...to you, Mr. Blackstone...” she said, nearly sobbing. “Master,” she added. She was looking at the floor, and she lifted her gaze with great difficulty.
Mr. Blackstone was standing, hands clasped in front of him, and he seemed instantly darker, as though the light had shifted. Her chest felt cold again, that same strange mixture of fear and arousal brewing inside of her.
He cocked his head slightly. “Confess?” he asked. He shifted. She thought she could make out a smile upon his lips, but she could not be sure. “What is it, Miss Blanchet, that you must confess?”
Her eyes returned to the floor.
Mr. Blackstone waited, and the only sound in the room was the ticking of a great clock she had not, until then, noticed.
“Miss Blanchet?”
She was unable to speak. She chewed her lip, unconsciously, as all words she had ever known in English seemed to evaporate from her mind.
