Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
A ndrea
To my surprise, as Lila and Lydia led me in the direction of the kitchen, I noticed that five other men were sitting with Devin at the fully set dining table. I did my best to go unnoticed, but I couldn’t help wondering if Bill and Hank were among the dinner guests—and if so who the remaining three might be.
The rich aroma of roasted chicken and herbs wafted through the air of the kitchen, making my stomach growl despite my nerves. Lila and Lydia moved with practiced efficiency, gathering serving dishes and utensils. I was hesitating, unsure of what to do, when Devin’s deep voice called out from the dining room.
“Girls, bring Andrea in here first. She should meet the associates before we eat.”
My heart leapt into my throat as Lila and Lydia exchanged knowing glances. Gently, they guided me toward the dining room, their hands at my elbows as if they sensed I might bolt at any moment.
As we entered, I felt the weight of six male gazes upon me. Devin sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding even while seated. The other five men were spread out around the long table, each one studying me with varying degrees of interest.
“Andrea,” Devin said, his voice firm but not unkind, “these are my associates. You’ll be seeing a lot of them, so best to get introductions out of the way now.”
He gestured to a solidly built man with sandy brown hair and warm eyes. “This is Bill, Lila’s accepted suitor.”
Bill smiled, his gaze flickering briefly to Lila before returning to me. “Welcome to Cato, Andrea,” he said, his voice deep and resonant.
Next, Devin indicated a man of average height with short brown hair. “This is Hank, Lydia’s approved suitor.”
Hank nodded politely, his expression friendly but reserved.
“Travis,” Devin continued, pointing to a tall, lean man with dark hair and sharp features.
“Ethan,” he said, indicating a muscular blond man who looked to be in his early thirties.
“And finally, Dylan,” Devin concluded, gesturing to the last man at the table.
I felt my breath catch as I met Dylan’s gaze. He was strikingly handsome, with dark, wavy hair and penetrating hazel eyes. There was something in the way he looked at me—a mixture of authority and empathy—that made my heart race.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Andrea,” Dylan said, his voice low and smooth.
I felt my cheeks flush as I mumbled a greeting, suddenly very aware of my body in the modest yellow dress. The room felt stiflingly warm, and I could feel beads of sweat forming at the nape of my neck.
Just as I thought the introductions were over and I could escape to the relative safety of the kitchen, Bill spoke up, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“So, Andrea,” he said, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something that made me shiver. “I hear you’ve got a date with Devin’s palm after dinner.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as Bill’s words sank in. My legs trembled beneath me, and I was grateful for Lila’s and Lydia’s steadying hands on my elbows.
“I… I…” I stammered, unable to form a coherent response. The room seemed to spin around me, the faces of the men blurring together.
Bill chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “No need to be shy, sweetheart. We’ve all been there before—well, not me personally, but we’ve seen our fair share of naughty girls get what’s coming to them.”
Travis leaned forward, a predatory grin spreading across his sharp features. “I, for one, am looking forward to the show,” he said, his words full of lust. “Nothing quite like watching a pretty young thing learn her place.”
My breath caught in my throat, a wave of dizziness washing over me. The whole household? They were all going to watch? The persistent, impossible-to-suppress thought of being bent over Devin’s knee with my bottom bared for all to see threatened to overwhelm me. I swayed on my feet, feeling as though I might faint at any moment.
Just as I thought my legs might give out entirely, Dylan’s voice cut through the haze of my panic.
“Come on, guys,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “Let’s not make this harder for Andrea than it already is. She’s new here, and I’m sure she’s nervous enough without all this teasing.”
I blinked, focusing on Dylan’s face. His hazel eyes met mine, filled with a warmth and understanding that made my heart skip a beat. In that moment, I noticed again just how handsome he was—the strong line of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips, the way his dark hair fell in soft waves across his forehead.
A sudden surge of affection welled up inside me, catching me off guard with its intensity. Dylan’s kindness, his willingness to stand up for me in front of the others, touched something deep within me. It was a small gesture, perhaps, but in that moment, it meant the world.
“Th-thank you,” I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible.
Dylan smiled, a gentle quirk of his lips that sent a flutter through my stomach. “Don’t mention it,” he said softly. “We all had to adjust when we first came to Cato. It takes time.”
I nodded, grateful for his understanding. But even as I basked in the warmth of Dylan’s kindness, I couldn’t shake the dread that coiled in my gut. Much too soon, the mental image would come true: I would be over Devin’s knee, my backside burning under his palm—and everyone in this room would be watching.
The thought made me want to run, to hide, to do anything to avoid the humiliation that awaited me. Desperation clawed at my throat as the full implications set in. The thought of being spanked was mortifying enough, but to have it done in front of all these people—strangers who would soon have such intimate power over me—was more than I could bear.
“Mr. Weathers,” I blurted out, my voice trembling. “Please, sir. Couldn’t we… couldn’t you punish me in private? In my bedroom, maybe?”
The room fell silent, all eyes on me. I felt my face flame with embarrassment, but I pressed on, words tumbling out in a panicked rush.
“I know I deserve to be punished,” I said, hating the way my voice quavered. “And I… I promise I’ll take whatever you think is right. But please, sir, not in front of everyone. I’ll learn my lesson just as well in private, I swear.”
Devin’s steady blue eyes met mine, his expression unreadable. For a moment, hope fluttered in my chest. Maybe he would show mercy, spare me this public humiliation.
But then he shook his head, his voice firm and unyielding. “I’m afraid that’s not how we do things here, Andrea,” he said. “A public spanking serves two purposes. First, it ensures that you fully understand the consequences of your actions. There’s nothing quite like the shame of having your bottom bared and warmed in front of others to drive a lesson home.”
I flinched at his words, once more, to my dismay, imagining the scene all too vividly. My hands instinctively moved to cover my backside, as if I could somehow shield it from what was to come.
“Second,” Devin continued, his tone softening slightly, “it shows the rest of the household that justice has been served. It reinforces the rules for everyone, not just the person being punished.”
He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “I know it seems harsh, Andrea. But in the long run, this is the best way to make sure you’ll behave in the future. It’s for your own good, truly.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to spill over. I opened my mouth to protest again, but Devin held up a hand, silencing me.
“That’s enough,” he said, his voice taking on a gruffer edge. “The matter is settled. Now, follow Lila and Lydia to the kitchen. Dinner isn’t getting any warmer, and I won’t have good food go to waste because of your dallying.”
I stood there for a moment, frozen in place by the finality of his words. The reality of my situation crashed over me like a wave—there was no escape, no reprieve. In just a short while, I would be over this man’s knee feeling the sting of his palm as I kicked and squirmed helplessly.
In a fog of shame and fear, I followed Lila and Lydia out of the dining room, my legs trembling beneath me. The kitchen seemed impossibly far away, each step an eternity. The polished hardwood floor creaked softly under our feet, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence that had fallen.
As we reached the doorway to the kitchen, Lydia leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. “Remember,” she whispered urgently, “we’re not allowed to speak at the table unless we’re spoken to. Just keep your eyes down and do as you’re told.”
I nodded mutely, my throat too tight to form words. The smell of well-cooked food enveloped us as we entered the kitchen, making my stomach churn with a mixture of hunger and nausea though I knew I should have found it comforting and homey.
Greta stood at the gleaming granite island, an array of steaming dishes spread out before her. Her eyes swept over us critically, lingering on my flushed cheeks and trembling hands.
“Well,” she said briskly, “let’s get this food out while it’s hot. Lila, you take the chicken. Lydia, the dumplings. Andrea, you bring out the vegetables.”
She handed each of us a large, heavy platter. The weight of the dish in my hands anchored me, giving me something tangible to focus on. I inhaled deeply, catching notes of rosemary and onion mingling with the savory scent of perfectly roasted chicken.
We filed out of the kitchen in a silent procession, the delicious aromas wafting ahead of us. As we entered the dining room, I kept my eyes lowered, focusing on the floorboards under my feet. The low murmur of male voices fell silent as we approached the table.
I watched from the corner of my eye as Lila gracefully set the platter of golden-brown chicken in front of Devin. She moved with practiced ease, her movements fluid and demure. But as she leaned forward to place the dish, something happened that made my breath catch in my throat.
Bill, seated to Devin’s right, casually slipped his hand beneath the hem of Lila’s powder-blue dress. I watched in stunned disbelief as his fingers disappeared under the fabric, clearly caressing her thigh and then her little bottom. Lila’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but she didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, she continued serving, her movements only slightly less smooth than before. I kept studying her face, noticing that she’d taken her lower lip between her teeth.
I felt my own face grow hot, a mixture of secondhand embarrassment and shock coursing through me. I wondered suddenly if Bill’s fingers had even gone between Lila’s thighs, to remind her of his privileges, as granted by Devin. How could Bill do that so openly? And why didn’t Lila object?
But as she straightened and turned to head back to the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of her expression. To my surprise, beneath the blush that stained her cheeks, I saw a flicker of… pride. My eyes went to Lydia, on the other side of the room. I thought I could tell that she, too, had noticed Bill’s roving hand. Was that envy in the redhead’s eyes? To have an accepted suitor, in Cato, clearly had its satisfactions alongside its indignities.
Once Lila, Lydia, and I had finished serving the men, Greta gestured for us to take our seats at the far end of the long table. I sank into my chair, grateful to be off my shaky legs. The modest yellow dress felt confining as I sat, the fabric pulling taut across my thighs. I tugged at the hem, trying to ensure I was properly covered.
Greta took her place at the foot of the table, directly across from Devin. Her sharp eyes swept over us girls, lingering on me. I felt myself wilting under her scrutiny, hyper-aware of every move I made. Was I sitting up straight enough? Were my elbows off the table? I couldn’t remember all of the etiquette rules my mother had tried to drill into me as a child.
“You may begin,” Devin announced from the head of the table.