Heat suffuses my face, whether from the truth of his words or from the fact that he reminds me of my own folly, I do not know. “Please… I wish to show you I will do as I say.”
He does not answer straight away, and I lie tense across his knee, hoping he will heed my promise.
“We are not quite done, my lady. I intended to use an implement—I feel certain it will deliver the results I desire for a day or more—but given your sweet assurances, I shall have mercy.”
His words confuse me, and as my hindquarters ache, I cannot make sense of what he means. But when I feel the touch of his hand once more upon my already smacked skin, I gasp. For this touch is different—his glove has been removed! His fingers brush across my bare buttocks, and the mortification is nearly as searing as the smacking!
And yet… as his hand soothes my sore flesh, I become aware of a heat burning hotter between my thighs.
It is a disgrace!As horrified as I am by the way my body has betrayed me yet again, I cannot deny it as I feel a growing liquid in my sex. I press my legs together in an attempt to conceal my shameful arousal as my face burns in humiliation. It also distracts me from making more pleas to His Grace.
I feel the absence of his hand as he lifts it, my skin tingling where his fingers were. The tightening of his arm around my waist makes me keenly aware of what is happening even before I hear the sharp whistle of his hand moving through the air. It lands sharply upon my bottom, and the shock of his bare flesh against my own is quickly outpaced by fresh pain.
How does it hurt even worse?Before I can think any more on the matter, another smack falls, and another. They grow harder and closer together until my breath comes in short, fitful gasps. I fear I might faint, but the sting becomes so great I burst into tears. My eyes and throat burn, and there is an ever-growing horror in the back of my mind, but I can pay it no heed. The distress is too great.
I wish to plead for mercy, to beg His Grace for forgiveness, but I am trapped over his knee, helpless to stop him from exacting the penance due him. As the smacking continues, heat spreads across my fundaments—most strange indeed, given that his hand falls on the same two spots continually. The sound of his bare hand landing upon my bare hindquarters is undignified, but is quickly displaced by the horrifying sound of my blubbering cries.
I cannot endure it. I shall never last. I will never speak to His Grace so ever again!
But the smacking continues until all I can do is lie across his knees, robbed of even the ability to think. All I can do is cry, offering my tears to the ground as proof of my sincere regret.
“My dear?”
I startle. It would seem I have been crying so hard, I did not even realize my chastisement had ceased. “Y-yes, Your Grace?”
His soft chuckle makes my heart hasten in my breast. Does this mean it is well and truly over at last?
“I am going to help you to stand and allow you to make your apology.” With gentle hands, the duke moves me from his lap and turns me to face him.
I duck my head, sniffling. “I… I am heartily sorry to have offended y-you, Your G-Grace.”
“Look at me, wife.”
My heart jolts in my chest, even more than when he called me by my name. Slowly, I raise my face until I am looking him in the eye.
“Again,” he orders softly.
“I am heartily sorry to have offended you, Your Grace,” I whisper, struggling to ignore the burning torment of my backside and the equally distressing ache between my legs.
“Louder, if you please, my lady.”
The heat in my face grows, but I feel no fury at his attempt to humble me. I know it is well deserved. “I… I am sorry I offended you… Your Grace.”
The stern line of his mouth gives me pause, but he nods. “You will think better of your behavior in the future, will you not, Freya?”
His words are soft, yet full of authority, and it makes me feel quite small indeed. “I… I shall… Your Grace.”
“And if you do not, you know there shall be consequences to correct your folly?”
The combination of the smarting in my hindquarters, the fierce look in his eyes, and the scolding are having a strange effect upon me. I cannot understand it, but the voice I use to reply to him is softer and more subdued. “I… I do, my lord.”
“Very good, lass. Is there anything else?”
He is watching me expectantly, and I wonder what I am lacking. “I… Iwillendeavor to do better.”
The duke smiles, a soft curve of his lips that makes his face even more worthy of admiration. His dark eyes radiate a steady warmth that causes my heart to lunge against the wall of my chest before going still. “So you said.”
“And… and… whatever else you should like.”
