Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
He tapped her exposed cheeks with the paddle; it made a distinct, upsetting noise that would indeed keep any servants away. She squirmed, overtaken by a sudden panic, but he held her fast across his lap.
“Darling, I’ve hardly started. You will behave yourself and take your punishment properly.”
She bit her lip against a reply, a retort that would anger him further. She wondered how properly he would take a spanking with a scary paddle.
“What we don’t want is for you to forget yourself again in some state of ‘exuberance,’ Elizabeth. Do you understand me? That is why you must be punished—so a permanent lesson is learned.”
“I’m permanently certain I won’t go on the lake alone again. You needn’t do this; I don’t need it!”
“I’m your husband now, and it’s my job to decide what discipline you need.”
And since he was an avid proponent of spanking, just like his friends…he would always err on the side of more discipline, rather than less. She was doomed.
He gave her a few more taps with the paddle, warming up her cheeks. It did not hurt, not yet, but she knew it would, and she dreaded this slow build to the real punishment. Just hurt me and get it over with, she wanted to cry.
Thwack.
The paddle seemed to answer her agonized thought. The blow connected with solid force, and she cried out at the sudden, stinging pain. Before she could gather herself, August landed a second thwack. She threw back a hand to protect herself from a third blow, but her wrist was promptly caught, her hand dragged away from any self-protective capability.
“Ow. Oww!” She windmilled her legs, trying to escape the pain, but he merely gripped her harder and continued his onslaught. “Owww. Please! I did not expect marriage to be this way. You ought to be nicer to your wife.”
“You ought to stop kicking your legs.”
“I can’t help it!”
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack!
“How long will you paddle me?” she cried.
“As long as I think you need it. As long as it takes you to submit to this lesson without all this wriggling and complaining.” He stopped to let her catch her breath. “Perhaps I’ve been remiss in teaching you my expectations as it comes to discipline. A penitent wife does not fight and struggle. A penitent wife accepts her spanking, however long it is, and thinks how she can do better in the future.”
“I’m trying.” A sob escaped her. “It’s just very, very hard.”
August stared down at his wife’s tensing arse cheeks, thinking how very, very hard he was. If she wasn’t in such torment from his paddling, she’d have noticed his erect cock prodding against her hip. At some point, he must allow himself to admit what his couth resisted: his friend’s little sister had a delectable backside, and he loved spanking it.
It was so round, so firm, so very punishable. None of the girls at Pearl’s had had an arse like this—tensing, responsive, so pristinely pale it showed every mark nearly upon impact. When he’d been her piano teacher, her friend, he hadn’t bared her arse when he spanked her, but now, it added an excruciatingly pleasurable layer to the act of discipline.
And gave him many wicked and lecherous thoughts.
This was a real punishment, of course. He intended to paddle her pale arse scarlet. She’d behaved without consideration, disappearing onto the lake without informing anyone where she was going. She must not do that again. She would not do that again, not after he taught her the error of her ways. It was a necessary punishment, but also quite stimulating.
For him.
He resumed paddling her, using enough force to make it hurt, but not enough to damage her delicate backside. He was not a monster, just a pervert. Each time he connected with her exposed cheeks, color bloomed deeper, while she writhed, resisted, and tried to pull away.
“Be still,” he reminded her. “I’ve told you my expectations.”
“I’m trying, but it hurts terribly!”
“Poor thing.” His sympathy was real, as real as the spanking she was receiving, not that she wanted to hear it. She wanted to hear they were done, that the paddling was over, but he sensed she was not there yet.
“Ow. Ow. Owww.”
Each spank brought a dramatic cry. As long as she resisted, she wasn’t really learning. He was patient. He could paddle her at this intensity for a long time, really redden her bottom without harming her. He knew these things. She didn’t.
Poor thing indeed.
“Oh, it hurts,” she cried. “Please. Please! I’m sorry.”
Her cheeks tensed and squeezed together as if that might protect her from his onslaught. He decided he would put some hot, stinging ginger between those cheeks during her next punishment. All the tensing in the world wouldn’t protect her from that.
After two more solid minutes of paddling, he stopped to give her a rest.