Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Mrs. Fairfax brings me to a huge bedroom. It’s his room. I know the moment I walk in, I do not need to be told.
Everything about it, from the furniture to the very air, is dripping with masculine presence and power.
The bed is heavy and dark with four posters jutting into the air, a dark-red canopy draped over the top.
Heavy dark-red curtains are tied at each of the posts.
The headboard is huge and intricately carved, also made of a dark wood that somehow seems menacing.
Even looking at the bed makes me want to shiver.
My bottom is throbbing and so many questions are crowding my head I feel dizzy. Or maybe the dizziness is from having been over the duke’s lap. From the sudden change in my circumstances.
I have no idea what to expect and it’s making me very nervous.
Daddy is hardly a new word to me. Quite a few of the other women at Madam Atout’s called some of the older gentlemen Daddies. Though, as far as I know, they only did so behind their backs, not to their faces.
If he wants me to call him that, what does it matter to me?
It is certainly no hardship.
But the way he’d said it makes me think it means something to him, and I have no idea what.
Little Betty.
A Nanny.
My Daddy.
The words swirl around my head, the pain radiating out from my bottom making it difficult for me to think. To understand.
“Alright, little Betty,” Mrs. Fairfax says, coming around me. I feel her tug at the laces on my dress. “Let’s get you ready for your Daddy.”
Not ‘the duke’ anymore.
My Daddy.
Who was very upset that I had not read the contract.
Even though he read it out to me, I’m having trouble remembering exactly what he’d said. It had not been easy to concentrate while I was over his knee and his hard hand was coming down on my already burning nates.
I’m to be treated as a child.
The thought makes me huff as I realize this is what Madame Atout meant when she said the duke has particular tastes. She knew! And she did not warn me!
But it is worth the money, no?
Is it?
I’m humiliated and my bottom hurts and I’m still a virgin…
But there is no way to back out either. Madame Atout will not take me back if I break the contract. It is my own fault for signing before having her read it to me or asking more questions. Now I understand what my mother meant when she said greed leads to regret.
My dress drops away from my body, pooling around my feet. Mrs. Fairfax comes around to my front and tugs my chemise over my head. My shoes and stockings are next to go.
It is odd to be undressed by someone else like this, but it soothes me too. Surely things cannot be too bad when I have someone attending to my every need like this? Lords and ladies have dressers. The Duke called her my Nanny, but she is currently acting like my servant.
Which ends the moment I am naked.
“Onto the bed, little girl,” she orders, giving me a short slap on the bottom to get me moving.
I squeal, jumping forward, as the little smack has a much smarter effect on my already chastised cheeks than it had back at Madame Atout’s.
Heat flushes my face as the fantasy of being undressed by a servant is immediately diffused.
The spot throbs and I can feel the warmth of my skin under my palms, still hot from the previous spanking.
Biting my lip against retorting that the swat had not been necessary, I hurry over to the bed and climb onto it. It is very high, high enough that I feel small… and I feel even smaller once I am on it.
This is the largest bed I have ever seen, and being atop it makes me feel utterly tiny. It stretches out wide on either side of me and the canopy is so high above. I do not feel like I belong.
The sensation of being utterly out of place adds to the disturbance already curdling my stomach.
“On your back, little Betty.”
Hastily, I flop down on my back before Mrs. Fairfax can swat me again – of course, when my weight lands on my bottom, I squeal again anyway. The throbbing increases tenfold with any weight on it, even when I lay out so that it’s not all on my poor arse.
“Hands above your head.” The bed dips as Mrs. Fairfax climbs up beside me, although she is kneeling rather than laying on her back. I obey, and startle as she closes something soft around my wrists.
“What is that?”
“These will help hold you in place for your Daddy.”
That is no explanation. I twist my head around, trying to look up.
It feels like leather and there is a short chain between the leather bands that clinks gently as Mrs. Fairfax stretches my hands up and attaches them to a hook that was hidden within the headboard carvings.
I am not sure I would have seen it if were not for being in this position.
“I do not need this; I can hold still.” I jerk my arms, but there is no give. Mrs. Fairfax grabs one of my ankles and pulls it toward the foot of the bed.
“You will not need to worry about that,” she reassures me, patting the top of my foot before she attaches another leather band around my ankle. Panic is starting to rise up inside me.
“I do not want to be restrained to the bed.” I try to kick at her with my free foot, since the other is already attached to another chain coming from the bedpost.
Easily dodging my kick, Mrs. Fairfax gives my pussy a short, brutal slap that makes me shout with pain. If I thought being spanked was agonizing, it is nothing compared to the shooting sting that goes straight through my core from my most tender bits.
“Ow!”
“Behave, little Betty,” she says firmly. “Or it will be ten more of those, to your pretty little titties and your pussy, and I will tell your Daddy about how you misbehaved. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have the opportunity to discipline you again.”
Utter horror is my reaction.
Despite my desire to fight her, self-preservation wins out and I let her attach the cuff to my other ankle without protest. I whimper as she spreads my legs wide, giving me almost no room to wiggle about because of how I’ve been laid out and secured.
Once I’m in position, she looks down at me critically, using nearly the same gaze she examined me with at Madame Atout’s.
“Hmm.” Reaching down, she plumps my breasts, which feels rather nice, and the sensation of throbbing from my backside – which had already been receding – seems to fade even more as pleasure trickles through me.
Then she gives my nipples each a little pinch, bringing them to further hardness as I gasp. “There we go.”
Patting the top of my pussy mound, she gets down from the bed and then returns a moment later with a white towel that she works beneath my hips. The textured surface rubs against my sensitive bottom, reigniting some of the sting, but it feels different now… better. Good, almost.
I bite my lip against making any noises because I do not want to give her the satisfaction.
Not after she threatened me.
“Be a good girl for your Daddy, little Betty,” she said, climbing off the bed and giving my thigh a little pat in farewell. “He will be here soon to deflower you and then I will take you to your own room afterward.”
When I do not respond, she reaches over and gives my thigh a harder pat.
“Say, ‘Yes Nanny’.”
“Yes, Nanny.” I cannot entirely keep the resentment from my voice, but she does not seem to notice. Or if she does, she does not care.
“Good girl.” Humming under her breath, she exits the room with her usual sweeping, swishing stride.
The moment she is gone, I burst into a frenzy of movement. Tugging, pulling, twisting, jerking my arms and legs…
None of it is any use.
The bed is far stronger than I and so are the restraints she put on me.
Panting for breath, ignoring the way the throbbing in my bottom grew because of the way it rubbed the towel beneath it, I try to look up at my wrists again. She used a hook to secure them, maybe if I can inch my way up high enough to get my wrists out of the hook…
And then what?
I already know I will stay. I want my money. With that one spanking, I feel as though I have earned it. If I leave now, I will get nothing and I will have been spanked for nothing.
Squirming in place, I try to relax. Staring up at the canopy only helps so much. Nothing in this room is like Madame Atout’s.
Nothing in this room is what I imagined.
Especially not being tied in place.
I’d imagined my own house. Which was what Madame Atout had told me to expect. Noblemen did not want their mistresses in their homes.
Except this duke.
Letting out a long, slow breath, I wriggle my fingers.
The restraints are not too tight, but twisting my hands back and forth and trying to pull them free slowly yields no results.
They might not be tight, but they’re secure.
There is nothing to do but wait for the duke to come and deflower me.
Even the soreness in my bottom has muted and my mind drifts.
I just manage to finally fully relax, almost becoming sleepy, when the door opens.
Immediately, I am wide awake again, energy running through my body – but I cannot leap up or even sit up.
Instead, I jerk against the restraints, reminded all over again how vulnerable I am as the duke strides into the room.
He closes the door behind him, hungry eyes raking over my exposed, naked body, and my mouth very suddenly goes dry as my utter helplessness at his hands strikes me. He can do anything he wants and I cannot even attempt to run.
“My little Betty,” he says softly, walking toward the bed, his hands going to his clothes as he begins to strip down. “What a pretty sight you make on my bed, waiting for your Daddy’s cock.”