Page 54 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

He gave another smack before returning to more tender caresses. He groped the flesh and gave it several soft pats. A moan fell from her lips. As if encouraged by it, he felt between her thighs, eliciting a new wave of arousal. She would have to commend his skills to Abby. The manner in which he teased and tormented her clitoris was simply exquisite. Her own hand could not have excelled his ministrations.

“May I spend?” she remembered this time.

“No. We have not completed your punishment.”

She anticipated more spanking and felt a naughty compulsion to lift her derrière higher for him. He rubbed both cheeks and swatted them with enough force to send her further into the bed. The burn of the blows lingered longer this time, but the agitation between her thighs ached more. She wanted him to continue fondling her. Instead, he smacked her rump. She cried out from the force of it. The sting from the spanking and the percolation of lust combined for a strange yet heady experience.

“Do not move.”

She heard him walk to the sideboard.

“I will grant you the choice in implement for your punishment,” he told her. “The paddle or the tawse?”

Paddle? Tawse? Now a fear of some significance rose within her. How was she to choose? She had never experienced either.

“Your choice, mademoiselle. Or if you are undecided, we may try them both.”

“The tawse,” she answered. A softer implement must surely be better.

“What is your word of safety?” he asked when he had returned.

“Montreal.”

“Good.”

His hand grazed the contours of her rump, the nerves of which were alive and provoked in unparalleled fashion. She did not know how to breathe.

“We shall proceed gently,” he assured her. “I shall deliver ten blows for the first infraction, and fifteen for the second.”

He spanked her by hand, causing the warmth to grow inside and out. She grunted when the leather connected with her backside. The slap sounded harsher than its delivery, but her derrière had been sensitized by the previous blows of his hand. Her cunnie throbbed as if receiving the strike as one of pleasure. He allowed her to catch her breath and brace herself before landing the tawse once more.

“Oof!” she cried out, but her mortification at being punished as if she were a wayward child still exceeded the corporal pain. Was she truly submitting herself to such treatment?

He slapped her harder. This time it hurt enough to make her wonder if she could survive twenty more such blows. The next several thwacks seemed to drive dozens of needles into her rump.

“Your backside is beginning to glow a lovely shade of rose,” her instructor said with a curious hitch in his voice. He paused as if needing to gather himself. “We have five and ten more. How do you fare?”

“I do not think I shall soon forget your tenets.”

“And what are they?”

“To use my word of safety and to do as you bid, spending only with your permission.”

“Good.”

The tawse fell across her buttocks in quick succession. She yelped each time and gasped for breath during a respite.

“Do you require your word of safety?”

He meant to deliver all the strokes lest she desired otherwise, she realized. Perhaps she should test the truth of the word of safety. The soreness in her rump burned in a fair way.

As she contemplated, he reached between her thighs and stroked her folds, sending her thoughts scattering. She shivered. The caress felt as sublime as a cool beverage on a warm day. She could consider nothing more than the delicious ministrations of his hand. The pain imposed by the tawse did not diminish her body’s ability to savor his fondling. Indeed, the beautiful sensations felt more acute.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand. She whimpered at the loss. Her arousal had blossomed quickly, and she yearned for its proper finish.

“Suffer your entire punishment, and you shall be rewarded,” he said.

She found she could hardly wait for him to administer the tawse.