CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lizzy shivered as if from cold despite the warmth from the fire.
When she sensed herself growing abashed, she would focus upon the dancing shadows cast by its flames.
She was not accustomed to being naked before anyone, and he was still very much a stranger despite their first lesson together.
The arousal she felt from his kisses surprised her.
Did it prove that the carnal was a force of its own, apart from emotion or reason?
Or might she be attracted to this man? Abby had alluded to students commonly forming feelings for their instructors, a natural consequence of the dynamics of the relationship, but Lizzy had thought herself above schoolroom sensibilities.
Then how did this man cause such flutters in her stomach and the warmth to surge in her loins? How was it his touch could persevere through her awkwardness, which had not dissipated, perhaps because she sensed a peculiar difference in him this night.
But the effect of his caresses was unchanged.
As his hands roamed her body, she submitted to the pleasure, enjoying the feel of her soft flesh beneath his masculine grip upon her breasts, ribs, waist, abdomen, hips, and thighs.
One hand slid between and rubbed her shift against the dampness there.
His other arm circled around her and, clasping her to him, reached for the far breast and toyed with the nipple.
She writhed in his grasp as the torturous delight built within her.
He pulled her shift down till it fell to her ankles.
She barely had time to think of her nakedness, though, for he resumed his fondling.
Pleasure shot from the nipple down to her womanhood, where his fingers grazed her clitoris over and over again, her wetness allowing him to glide effortlessly along her flesh.
My God, she thought to herself as her body succumbed all too easily.
He increased his assault. Her legs weakened and just when she thought they might give way, the pressure within her burst into a hundred shards of pleasure, making her convulse as they tore through her body.
He caught her around the waist as she jerked and shuddered. As he eased his stroking, she felt the last waves of her paroxysm move through her before she crumbled to the ground in the wrap of his embrace.
Her head upon his shoulder, she gathered her breath as the echo of her heartbeat receded. With patience, he waited for her to collect herself. Though grateful he had caught her, she found too much intimacy in the way he held her and disentangled herself to return to her feet.
“Thank you,” she said.
She was unable to discern his full expression behind his mask. His lips were prone to a slight frown. If he were disappointed—and she could not gather why he should be for he had initiated the consequences—she could not be certain.
“You have forgotten the second tenet.”
Her eyes widened with realization. Oh dear. She had once prided herself on her ability to recall even the most mundane of facts. How had she managed to forget?
“Your pardon,” she said. “I was, er, pleasantly distracted.”
“You wish to lay the blame at my feet?”
Perhaps if you were not so skilled…But aloud she replied, “I bear responsibility for the oversight.”
“What is the tenet to which I allude?”
“Not to spend without your permission.” She lowered her gaze so that he would not discern how silly she still thought this directive to be.
“A sound punishment will aid your memory of this.”
She drew in a sharp breath. She had no notion of what a punishment entailed.
“Face the bed,” he instructed.
“Are punishments the norm for these lessons?” she asked, trying to remember what Abby might have said on the subject.
“Are you not to heed my every word?”
She wrinkled her nose that he had answered her question with one of his own.
He said nothing further and waited for her to follow his order.
Without protest, she did as told. She did not like that she could no longer see what he did, but she found comfort in not having her breasts and pelvis displayed before him.
“Bend over.”
He pushed her over the bed at the waist. Her derrière rounded the edge, and she instantly preferred her prior position. He softly palmed the curve of her rump. She shivered.
“Abby made no elaboration of punishments,” she noted, her pulse quickening at the awkwardness of her position.
“Do you recall your word of safety?”
“Will I need it?”
“I know not. Tolerance of pain differs greatly from one to another.”
Pain. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Do you fear pain?” he asked.
“Not in particular, but I do not seek it, nor do I often anticipate it. Perhaps if you described the nature of what you intend, I can better answer your question.”
“In this, words cannot best demonstration.”
He slapped a buttock. She yelped. It surprised more than it hurt. Did he intend to give her a spanking? Was that to be her punishment?
“Was that painful?”
“No.”
He still had his hand upon her back, and she found herself wondering how it would feel to receive a harsher strike. He caressed the orb he had struck. His touch was ever pleasant and provocative. His hand pulled back before delivering another blow to her rump, a little more harshly this time.
“Oh!” she gasped. To her surprise, she rather enjoyed the sting. It was rather errant—wanton—to receive a spanking as a grown woman and from a stranger.
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.
“Do you wish to continue?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said without equivocation.
She gave a loud grunt when the leather tails struck her. She had lost count. How many remained? She hoped fewer than five.
As if reading her mind, he said, “You have but eight more.”
Eight more. She groaned. The next blow was the hardest yet. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and she gripped the bedclothes beneath.
“Have you ever been punished in such a manner?” he inquired after another smack.
Six more. She had but six more.