A blush heated her cheeks. Interesting. Although not necessarily indicative. Even for a young woman with some experience, the activities of the Society could be shocking.
“I did not,” she admitted.
Rex leaned back against the door, tilting his head in consideration. She watched him… warily but silently. Submissively.
“Did you understand what you saw?”
“Well enough.” There went her chin again, although the blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck. Something about her demeanor convinced him she was bluffing. He was not sure why he thought so, but he was inclined to call her bluff.
While he would not have taken this step until after the wedding to gauge her interest in such things, since she had invaded his territory, all bets were off. The temptation to discover her inclinations was too great—and she deserved it.
“Good. Then you understand why I am going to punish you now.”
Hazel eyes widened in shock, pink lips shaping into a little ‘o.’ His cock jerked with interest at the image that flew through his mind of her on her knees, taking his thick shaft into her mouth.
“P-Punish? H-How?” Her voice quavered, but she did not retreat. If anything, she sounded breathlessly interested rather than terrified or dismissive. Rex’s cock began to swell, his instincts sharpening, interest heightening. His entire world narrowed and focused on her.
“You are going to put yourself across my lap, and I am going to spank you.” He stated it as a fact, pushing off the door and striding to the chair nearest her—one of the leather chairs across the desk from his usual seat. Settling onto the chair, only a mere two meters away from her, he patted his thigh. “Come here, petal.”
Mary
She could run out the door. There was no barrier to escape now. She could run out the door, out into the night, and never look back.
Except… she would have to see him again, even without Evie’s plea for help—especially because of Evie’s plea. Did this count as successful infiltration of his club? Would she be welcome back again if she did this? Was this some kind of test?
Most importantly, would she be able to admit to herself the true reason she was talking herself into letting Hartford spank her had nothing to do with Evie’s plea or duty to her country but because she wanted him to? She wanted to know the why behind the expressions she had seen on so many faces throughout the house… and she wanted it to be with him.
“Is it going to hurt?” she whispered, even as she took a step closer, her skirts shushing across the top of the plush carpet.
Hartford tilted his head, studying her for a long moment.
“It would not be much of a punishment if it did not.” His eyebrows rose, mocking. “Do you think your infringement on my party and all of my guests’ privacy should go unpunished?”
“No.” Of course not. She just had not expected this punishment. Had not expected to be so curious about what it would feel like. Had not expected to want it.
She took another step closer. One more step and the only move available to her would be to put herself over his lap. Staring down at his broad thighs, the muscles sleekly encased by his tight leather breeches before they disappeared into his knee-high black Hessian boots, she felt as though reality was fracturing. This could not be real, could it?
Perhaps she was dreaming. Tomorrow, she would wake, and it would be just as she had told her aunt—she had had a megrim, laid down, then fallen asleep and had the wildest dream about Hartford’s masquerade.
He held out his hand.
Silent.
Demanding.
Mary placed her fingers in his.
Chapter 7
Mary
One quick practiced tug of Hartford’s hand and all the breath left Mary’s body as she found herself tumbling over Hartford’s lap with dizzying precision. The world upended, leaving her staring at the carpet as the circumstances of her situation became all too real. There was no denying the firm thighs beneath her stomach, the hard ridge pressing into her side, or the sudden dread that coursed through her body.
Oh, Mary, what have you gotten yourself into now?
Regret was pouring in hard and fast, yet she could not make herself move. Could not even find her voice to protest. The only noise she made was a squeak when Hartford hauled her skirts up, revealing the drawers she wore beneath. Heat flamed her face.
No man had ever seen her legs, much less… well, much less than everything Hartford was seeing. On the other hand, even with her skirts around her waist, she was still more covered than the vast majority of the people present in the household. And given those activities, had she really expected him to spank her over her skirts?
Deep down, she had known… she must have.
“Good girl.” His voice sounded deeper. Rougher. The center of her drawers parted, revealing the bare skin of her bottom. Mary covered her face with her hands, suddenly incredibly grateful for her position over his lap. Somehow, not being able to see his expression made the indignity more bearable.
A large, warm hand covered one cheek, rubbing slightly, preparing the skin for its upcoming chastisement, and a shiver went straight up her spine. Never had a man touched her so intimately—she would have never permitted it, even if she had found one who wanted to. Yet here she was, over Hartford’s lap, allowing him to not only touch her but punish her, and she could not even articulate why.
Rex
Rubbing his hand over the soft skin of Miss Wilson’s bottom, Rex gritted his teeth as he made himself wait for her response. He was not convinced she entirely understood what was happening and wanted to give her every opportunity to call a halt to the proceedings, even if it killed him.
The soft globes were creamy and pristine, a blank canvas waiting for an artist to decorate with pinks and reds, and possibly darker hues. Suspecting it was an entirely untouched canvas added an extra note of interest. If he did not want to discourage further exploration on her part, he would need to carefully tread the line between pain and pleasure—punishing her enough to be effective, but not so much she dampened her natural inclinations.
“Is this your first spanking?” he asked, almost conversationally.
There was a little pause, and he stilled his movements, waiting for her answer.
“I… yes.” Her voice was soft, low. Unsure but eager. It was a tone he was highly familiar with from newer members of the Society, those who had the desire but had never participated.
“Do you understand why you are being punished?” His hand moved across her bottom, and he felt her shiver in response. His cock was achingly hard, pressed into her side. Rex had never particularly cared about his partner’s level of experience. There were different delights to be found, from a novice to a practiced participant and all the variations in between. What he wanted, what moved him, was how eager his playmate was. From everything he could tell, Miss Wilson was hesitant but desiring.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.” He stroked his hand over her bottom, fingers brushing just a little lower until he felt the barest hint of her curls, then retreating.
“Must I?” She squirmed on his lap, for the first time seeming she might try to escape, but he pressed down on her lower back, pinning her down, and felt her still—not the stillness of fear, but the stillness of a woman who had felt the dominance of her lover and submitted to it.