Chapter 3 #2
She barely stifled her loud gasp when the tall, gorgeous woman came from behind the curtain.
This was not the same sweet woman she had heard singing only moments earlier.
She was dressed in all black, a sexy corset and bustier, black leather high boots, her long blonde hair tousled, and full, pouty red-stained lips.
“She is the best dominatrix in all the land. People sign up months in advance to have a session with her,” Bertram whispered into her ear.
“Thank you, Master Wolfe.” The tall blonde nodded. “I will see that she gets her belongings. She can be a bit scatterbrained, that girl. Especially when the clock strikes midnight." Her voice was deeper and had an odd accent that elongated the vowels when she spoke.
Jillian still hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the new woman in front of her. The transformation amazed her.
“May we ask what he is being punished for, Stepmother?” Bertram asked casually as the man was strapped down to the punishment bench.
“Texting while driving his carriage, a big no-no!” She yanked the man’s head up to look into his eyes. “This will cost extra strokes with the cane. You know that, yes?”
“Yes, Mistress.” He groaned when she tightened her grip on his hair. “I mean, yes, Stepmother.”
“Good, we begin. Excuse.” She nodded at Bertram and Jillian and turned to her task at hand.
Jillian heard her name being called as she walked out the door and turned. “Y-yes, Stepmother?”
“You will hang out with the sweet girl Cindy tomorrow, yes?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she stumbled over her words.
“Good.” The woman nodded and turned away.
Bertram closed the door behind them and rushed her down the hall, but not before she heard the first screams.
“Bed?” he grinned.
“Mmhmm,” she squeaked.
“Don’t worry,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and leading her to the guest rooms. “The first night is always the hardest.”
She nodded and sagged against him as they walked.
“Hey.” He stopped suddenly. “I still owe you a spanking.”
She entered the beautiful suite and stopped breathing.
It was like two different worlds combined.
Rustic torches adorned the small entryway, reminding her of the small cobblestone streets in her town.
She couldn’t tell if they were real or not, but they cast the sitting area in a relaxing light.
A simple couch sat along one wall, facing a stone fireplace, already lit and creating a wonderful smelling heat.
There were soft throw pillows adorned with a rainbow of colors and beaded sequins.
Her favorite color, topaz, shone the brightest. There was a small side table that held a bottle of clear, bubbling liquid—some sort of sparkling wine, she guessed—and crystal glasses.
The other wall had a doorway leading into the bedroom. It seemed simple and unassuming, yet fresh and clean. The darker colored walls and draperies kept the light out and made the room as private as she could want.
She turned to Bertram, still standing in the sitting room, and noticed—it.
“A spanking horse,” he told her, as if reading her mind.
She walked around it, feeling the smooth texture of the finished wood, smelling the oak and lacquer. The dark cushioned top gave it the appearance of semi-comfort, and the adjustable legs with restraints set the butterflies moving in her stomach again.
She pictured herself draped over it and Bertram scolding her for something while spanking her bottom until it was sore and gloriously red. She shuddered and turned to meet his knowing eyes. His salt and pepper hair complemented his dark eyes, gleaming with specks of gold.
“We’ll try it sometime, when you are ready for it, Jillian. But first, let’s get you warmed up the old fashioned way.” He sat down on the couch, patted his lap, and suddenly became serious. “Jillian, this is a safe place. Spankings and other activities are done consensually.” He cleared his throat.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “What did you say?”
He chuckled and beckoned her with his warm eyes. “I asked you if you want me to spank you.”
She nodded her head, feeling shy and embarrassed.
“Use your words, please. Do you. Want me. To spank you?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered and stood in front of him.
God, this was so embarrassing. Why couldn’t he yank her over his lap like he did the first time?
She wasn’t so sure she liked consenting to this.
Did it make her a freak? She felt the first tear slide down her cheek.
So much had happened during the past 24 hours.
The long, cold journey, Jake getting hurt—which was completely her fault—being stuck in a blizzard in a place that so completely confused her but also beckoned to her. She tasted the salty tears as they streamed down her warm cheeks and onto her lips.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” She turned and started to fumble her way to the bedroom. She felt the movement behind her as he lifted her into the air and unceremoniously threw her over his lap. “Oomph!”
The first swat on the back of her dress was not hard, but it and the sudden position startled her. He leaned in to whisper into her ear, “Say Peter Piper if it gets to be too much.”
She nodded, thankful he’d taken charge, and she pressed into his hard lap, placing her cheek on the cushions and lifting her bottom up toward his hand.
BERTRAM
He took a deep breath and prayed he was right. The poor thing was overwhelmed, fatigued, and overstimulated. And she didn’t understand how to ask for what she so badly wanted. Her body told him quite clearly what he needed to know. But would her mind allow her to receive what he gave?
He lifted her dress and pettiskirts up and gently rolled them onto her back.
He struck her panty covered bottom with firm smacks, using only a quarter of his strength.
He didn’t want to spook her, only calm her down and give her a release.
After every slap, she raised her bottom up to him, as if asking for more.
He wondered if she knew she was doing that.
He made sure to warm up every inch of her round bottom and began to see pink hues beneath her thin, white cotton panties. She needed to release, but how much further could he take her without scaring her? He placed his palm on the back of her warm globes and rubbed gently. “You okay?”
She took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded her head.
He brought his hand crashing down onto her bottom, causing her to jump and squeal. “Use your words, Jillian.”
She turned her head to him, her green eyes flashing in anger. “Yes, sir! I’m fine, sir!”
He laughed, relieved to see she still had her spirit. “Good girl.” He stroked her bottom, enjoying having her over his knee, appreciating her acceptance of his hand. “But the next time you don’t use your words…” He brought his palm down rapidly, five times in succession, and she shrieked.
“Okay, okay, I get it! Words. Got it. Peter Piper if it gets too much!” she shouted and laid her trembling body back down, cozying into the couch.
“Good girl.” He patted her bottom. “Want more?”
She nodded but caught herself in time and met his eyes with unshed tears and need. “Sir. Don’t stop, until…” Her cheeks colored. “Don’t stop until I’m done.” She bit her trembling lip and turned her head to the side on the couch, raising her bottom.
He peeled her panties down to her knees and placed his palm on top of her pink round cheeks.
His hand engulfed her pert bottom. If this were another time, he would like to stroke them and pinch them and feel their silky smoothness.
He shook his head. Now was not the time for lustful, wolfish thoughts. Now was the time for healing.
He took a deep breath, raised his huge hand, and brought it crashing down.
He placed three hard spanks onto her left cheek, followed by three more to her right side, progressively getting harder with each set.
The firm, hard strikes were turning her gorgeous butt red, with splotches of darker tones.
He struck lower this time, beneath her bottom, where her thighs and cheeks met.
She groaned and shook and flinched as he paddled her with precision and care, leaving no portion of her bottom and upper thighs untouched.
“Pleeeeeeease! Stooooop!” she screeched and placed her hands over her bottom trying to protect herself.
He lifted her quickly onto her feet and watched the seething anger in her expression.
“Do you want to be finished, Jillian?”
She stomped her foot angrily and glared at him. “No, I don’t want to be finished! But it hurt!”
“Spankings are supposed to hurt.”
“I know,” she whined. “But you can’t expect me to lie there calmly while you beat on my ass. Besides,” her cheeks reddened and she looked at the floor, “I didn’t say Peter Piper.”
“You’re right. You didn’t say Peter Piper.” He watched her eyes focus on the spanking horse. “Come here, little girl. We’re going to finish you off with a bang.”
He led the trembling young woman over to the horse in the corner. “Turn around,” he ordered gruffly.
She presented her back to him and lifted her hair as if sensing his next move.
He made quick work of untying the laces in the back of her dress and yanked it over her head. He pulled her petticoats to the floor and watched her anger dissipate. She shielded herself and shivered after he removed her corset, leaving her naked and vulnerable to his eyes.
She was a beauty to behold. The luscious curves that had been hidden below all those layers created in him an animalistic urge to take her as his own.
Her creamy breasts rose and fell with every breath she took.
Her nipples stood peaked in the cool air, rosy and pink, demanding to be kissed.
He licked his lips and ran his tongue across his sharp canines.