“Miss Blanchet, confess now, or I shall exact the confession from you with the use of a riding crop.”
Lina’s lips moved again, and her voice was a mere whisper. “I...I have been... disobedient,” she said hoarsely. She could not go on.
Mr. Blackstone said nothing. She lifted her gaze after a long silence passed in which he did not move, or speak.
When she met his eyes, he stepped toward the open passageway, one arm swinging out as a butler might to show her the way.
“If you have been disobedient, Miss Blanchet, then you must be disciplined. Come.”
And then, he disappeared into the passageway, without waiting for her to move.
Lina looked behind her, at the great wooden door, as though an answer might be found there.
And then, for she did not know what else to do, feeling very much like running away and also very much like descending to his room to confess her behavior and be punished, she stepped, gingerly at first, and then with hurried steps, toward the passageway, to follow him.
* * *
As he had the day before, he ordered her to disrobe and face the wall of unusual objects, while he stood in the shadows and watched her. A silence preceded him approaching her, and before he even touched her, the fine hairs on her neck had risen to attention, and she knew that her flesh had turned into a sea of tiny bumps along the backs of her arms and her shoulders, merely anticipating his hands upon her body.
She felt less ashamed than she had the day before, though it still seemed strange to her to be standing, naked, in the presence of a man. She wondered what he could see as he looked at her: the rounded knob of the strange object in her bottom between her buttocks, the still-red imprints of yesterday’s discipline, the sheen between her legs, and the shiver that traveled over her back.
When he placed his hands on her shoulders, gently, but with the great, coiled strength in his hands evident in his touch, she jumped ever-so-slightly. But she did not feel fear so much as a crescendo of anticipation, desire clawing inside of her as though it were a wild animal sewn into her chest.
“And what is it, Miss Blanchet, that you have done so naughtily?”
She thought that she could hear, in his voice and his tone, something akin to her own desires. There was a playfulness beneath his words, and though she knew very little about the ways of men, it seemed to her that a tenderness was present as well.
She turned her head slightly, without even realizing that she was doing it. She could see his shoulder and his arm. They were bare, and at the sight of his muscled biceps and solid shoulders, another flutter of emotions stirred in her chest and her hairs rose on end so that she could feel them. Her mouth fell open slightly, her breath escaped her.
His fingers traveled along her neck with a feather-light caress, to her jaw, where they pressed her, very gently, to turn her face back to the wall of straps and other instruments.
“What did you do, my—Miss Blanchet?”
She closed her eyes, for she had heard distinctly some term of endearment nearly escape his lips, one that began with “my.” The possessive pronoun and all it implied poured over her like warm water.
“I... I disobeyed you. Master. After dinner. I could not... wait... for... you,” she said, and only at the end of her sentence did her eyes fall to the floor, for speaking such naughty things still cost her dearly. A blush made her cheeks warm, but she had to force her lips to hold their serious expression, for something in her wanted, even if just a little, to smile.
His fingers snaked down her neck, along her spine again, and to the protruding knob nestled between her buttocks, which he moved delicately in a circle, pushing the object so that it stretched her deep inside, probing the soreness of her most intimate places. Her lips trembled and she made a sound, for she could not stop it escaping her throat.
“So you have come to be disciplined,” he said quietly, his breath on her neck. Close to her ear, close enough that she could feel the movement of his lips as they brushed against her delicate lobes, he whispered, “Then I insist that you choose the instrument of your discipline, Miss Blanchet.”
She began to turn her head, in confusion and surprise, but he nudged her cheek with his jaw, and the fingers of his left hand closed around her neck, his pointer finger over the hollow of her throat, where she could feel her own heart fluttering about beneath his fingertips like a bird. He did not squeeze, but his message was clear.
She looked at the instruments upon the wall, her eyes growing wide as she contemplated them with a new interest: what would they do? How would they be used to punish her?
Even without knowing the use of some of them, she was becoming aroused. The wetness between her legs was trickling down her inner thigh, and the ache she had broken his rules to quench had returned already, as fierce as before.
“I don’t... I do not know what they...” she stammered, unable to finish her sentence. “I would not know how to choose, sir.”
She could not be certain, but it felt as though his lips brushed over the back of her neck as his hands moved down her arms to enclose her wrists gently. Holding her hands at her sides, he pushed her forward, toward the wall.
“Point to any object you like, and I will tell you how it will be used, Miss Blanchet.”
She scanned the objects. Many of them were like the object inside of her now, only larger, so of course she knew what they were for—or at least she could imagine. There was an object like the anal hook Dr. Doyle had used on her, and she did not wish to undergo that sort of torture again, for she did not think she could bear it. She saw a series of beads, connected by a fine chain, almost like a very large piece of jewelry. She reached up to touch it, and Mr. Blackstone’s breath was warm against her neck as he explained. “Those are beads, to be placed inside your bottom. But you are not ready for them, and they are not so much a form of discipline... although, I could invent something. Choose another.”
She moved her fingers to a large, flat object with a handle, and a strip of leather in the center of it.
“A paddle, Miss Blanchet. For spanking. It’s quite severe. You should not be able to sit until evening.”
