Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust) (8 page)

Read Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust) Online

Authors: Maggie Carpenter

Tags: #discipline, #BDSM, #submission, #bondage, #ebook, #corporal punishment, #erotic, #fiction, #domination, #S&M, #chimera, #historical, #master, #sex, #spanking, #damsel in distress

BOOK: Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust)
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Looking down he spied Elizabeth’s fine underwear. He had completely forgotten all about it. Recalling the immense pleasure of sliding the sensuous material across her shapely bottom, he reached down and picked up the delicate lingerie. Then raising it to his face he breathed in her fragrance, feeling his member stir yet again. Tonight, he decided, deeply inhaling her body’s essence. Tonight, she would be his.

He put the underwear in his pocket, and by the time the luscious girl returned, carrying his heavy boots, he had regained his equanimity.

‘Bring them here,’ he ordered. ‘I shall inspect them whilst you make yourself presentable,’ he said, his voice firm.

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, strangely happy to obey, and moved towards him.

His eyes fell to her breasts, easily admired within the cotton dress. It would be delightful indeed, he pondered, to suck and kiss those orbs of youthful perfection.

Elizabeth placed the boots on the floor in front of him and even dropped a curtsy, and the charming show of good manners interrupted his erotic thoughts. ‘Good girl,’ he said.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, bobbing again, ‘I’ll change and be back in just a few minutes.’

‘Wait,’ he said, stopping her. ‘You’d better take these with you.’ Reaching into his pocket he withdrew the panties and handed them to her. Blushing, she took the intimate apparel from his hands, then turned and left the room.

Gathering his thoughts he picked up his boots and looked them over carefully. There was not a speck of grime to be found, and they shone as though new. She had done an excellent job on them, but he was not surprised. Despite her questionable attitude she was bright and talented, and now he had started to work on the former he would have expected no less from her. He would have to remain firm with her, however, and stay on his masterly toes.

 

The mid-afternoon sun was streaming into the room through the large windows, and by the time she returned he had made up his mind; they were going for another walk. When she entered the room he could not suppress a contented smile.

Her hair was pinned up, with a few loose curls delicately framing her lovely face. She was attired in a pale blue dress of the finest silk, with a small and charming bow at her throat. It fitted her perfectly, accentuating her mouth-watering breasts, her alluringly narrow waist, and her voluptuous hips. Her dainty feet were encased in cream lace-up boots.

‘That’s much better, Elizabeth,’ he complimented her. ‘Much, much better.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, blushing coyly.

‘And now I should like to take some air and enjoy a leisurely stroll with a well-dressed and well-mannered young lady. Do you know anyone who fits that description?’

She looked down coyly, uncertain of the game he was playing. ‘I believe, sir… that I might be able to satisfy,’ she ventured, hoping it was the right thing to say. ‘If it pleases you, sir.’

He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Excellent,’ he said, offering his elbow. ‘I very much think you might, at that. Take my arm and we shall proceed together.’

Leaving the shining boots beside the fire and his vacated chair, her arm looped through his, they left the sitting room.

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

 

The walk through the gardens was pleasant indeed. They shared conversation and comfortable silences, and both felt utterly at ease in the other’s company, staying to the paths and avoiding the wet lawns.

There was a crispness in the air that was pleasing to them both, and as they made their way around the landscaped grounds he could not help but think what delightful company she had become, and so quickly. The autumn fragrances from the manicured borders, mixed with the exotic perfume uniquely hers, were all rather heady.

And Elizabeth was elated. Despite the difference in their years she had finally met someone who warranted her respect and adoration. Just a few hours before the last thing on her mind, lying over his knee, her bottom stinging from the smacks of his hand, was that she would be walking with him in such a way, feeling as she did.

Indeed, in those first few minutes she truly hated him; she had seen him as nothing but a bully and a brute. But now she felt she was beginning to understand him. He had been correct in his assessment of her and what she truly deserved and needed.

By the time he guided her back to the house her cheeks were rosy, not just from the fresh air and exercise, but also from the naughty stirrings in her body. And as for Lord Michael, he was quite beside himself with desire for her.

Dusk had descended and he suggested they both take a rest before dinner. As he walked her into the house he took her elbow and they ascended the stairs together, and he continued to hold it as they made their way along the landing to her room.

She opened the door, smiling, but to her instant dismay she realised she had carelessly left her previous clothes strewn untidily about. The simple cotton dress, from which she had changed so quickly, lay on the floor, and a trail of grimy clothes, remnants from the morning’s events, led from the middle of the room to the bathroom.

‘Oh dear,’ he said, eyeing and assessing the mess instantly, his manner suddenly brusque, ‘what do we have here, Elizabeth?’

Her heart jumped. ‘I, um, I d-don’t seem to have put my things away.’ The obvious was all she could feebly stammer.

‘No, you certainly have not,’ he said, his tone leaving no doubt about his displeasure. ‘And I consider it a personal insult that you should allow me to see your room in such a poor state of tidiness. Fetch me your hairbrush, Elizabeth.’

She looked up at him, instantly understanding his intention, beseeching him silently, but he was unmoved. So she walked to her dresser, knowing all the while that he was right to be displeased with her. She should never have left things as she had, expecting them to be miraculously picked up and dispensed with without consideration.

‘What a mess,’ he said, closing the bedroom door. ‘You really are very slovenly, Elizabeth. It’s just as well I came up to see this, isn’t it?’ He looked around. It was a fashionable room indeed; artfully and stylishly decorated, all the accoutrements a young lady could ask for, including a handsome four-poster bed, draped with a flowing, diaphanous white fabric.

There was a full-length mirror, which had two smaller mirrors hinged on either side. A cream-coloured dressing table was placed in the window, allowing her to view the gardens as she groomed herself. Delicate flowers were etched in the wood, painted in pastel shades. He walked to it, and taking the hairbrush from her hand, told her to turn and face the window.

‘From now on, Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘every time you look out this window, you will remember this moment. It might help to remind you that laziness and slovenliness are not permitted or tolerated.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied meekly, head bowed in shame.

During their recent time together Elizabeth had felt a bond growing between her and Lord Michael. She had convinced herself that the punishments that had gone before, though necessary, were history, not to be repeated. But now she realised such was not the case. She was, and suspected she always would be, vulnerable to his disapproval and subject to his discipline.

‘Tell me how sloppy you’ve been,’ he told her, ‘and ask me for your deserved punishment, Elizabeth.’

She felt the familiar blush rise in her cheeks. ‘I… I was very neglectful, sir, in my habits,’ she acknowledged quietly. ‘And I… I would be grateful if you would see fit to punish me accordingly… sir.’

‘Very well,’ he nodded. ‘You will lift your skirt, drop your knickers, and bend over.’

She felt the tears in her eyes but obediently bent at the waist and leant on the dressing table, her bottom bared for the reprisal her poor show warranted.

He moved behind her and placed himself as he had in the sitting room that very morning, facing into the room with an arm over and around her waist. He ran the smoothly varnished wood of the hairbrush over her naked globes, savouring the evidence of the morning’s beatings. Then speaking softly but firmly he lectured her.

‘Elizabeth, today you have done well in some respects, but you failed to follow those pluses through. Was it not obvious to you that you should have tidied your own mess? I certainly hope you did not leave it for Grace, for if you did I shall ask
her
to spank you when she returns from her day off.’

‘Oh, no sir!’ she cried. ‘That was not my intention, I assure you!’

‘Granted, it is her employment,’ he went on, ‘but as she’s not here the responsibility falls to you, does it not?’

Elizabeth could feel the unforgiving surface of the wood against her flesh, and she prayed – though she did not ask for mercy. ‘Yes sir,’ she replied despondently.

‘And even if Grace were here, it would be easy for you to drop your dirty clothes in the hamper, then lay your clean clothes on the bed. Is that not just good sense and good standards?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she admitted, knowing he was right and thinking about all the times she had carelessly tossed her clothes on the floor without a second thought.

‘A few good smacks and I think you’ll remember next time.’ He lifted the brush, and it landed with a loud splat on her poor left buttock. She rocked a little in his hold and yelped, and he repeated the action, again and again until he had delivered six stinging blows on each cheek.

‘What do you say now?’ he asked, panting very slightly from the immensely enjoyable exertion.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she sniffled. ‘I’m very sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.’

‘See that it doesn’t,’ he said sharply, with little apparent warmth towards her. ‘Now take your nap and I’ll see you at dinner.’

With that he placed the brush back on Elizabeth’s dresser and strode from the room, leaving her head spinning in utter confusion as to his intentions toward her, and her bottom throbbing warmly.

 

After dinner Lord Michael eyed his polished boots as he sat comfortably in front of the fire, the delicious evening meal digesting, a glass of brandy in one hand, Elizabeth quietly sitting opposite him, the crackling fire making her face glow healthily.

‘I must say, you did an excellent job on those, Elizabeth,’ he said, nodding at his shining footwear.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied. ‘I’ve never cleaned boots before, so I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing or how well I’d done.’

‘I’ll just take them up to my room,’ he went on. ‘You wait here. I’ll only be a moment.’

Leaving her by the fire he made his way upstairs, and as he placed his boots beside the dresser he eyed his very best riding crop lying on its top.

Downstairs Elizabeth was already becoming a little bored in her own company. Patience had never been her strong suit, and to her he seemed to be taking a long time. She decided to get another bottle of champagne, and to prove to him she had learned a thing or two, she would find the wine stock herself.

She went to the kitchen, but to her dismay cook told her she was too busy for such things and she would have to go down to the cellars for the champagne. So, with the best of intentions, Elizabeth made her way along the gloomy passage at the back of the house, normally only used by the servants, and as she passed the footman’s quarters she thought she heard a strange noise. Yes, there it was again; a rhythmic creaking, almost ghostly sound, and as she listened more intently she was sure she could hear some sort of moaning too!

Surely no servants were in the house, apart from cook, she puzzled. What could the sounds possibly be?

With inquisitiveness getting the better of her, and breathlessly keen to discover more, she very quietly pushed down on the door handle, carefully eased it open an inch or two… and could not believe her eyes! There, bathed in dim lamplight was Grace, naked, on her hands and knees! And Billy, the old gardener’s young help, was kneeling behind her, his face strangely contorted as he thrust his hips at the servant girl with astonishing ferocity that made her breasts quiver and swing back and forth.

Elizabeth stood rooted to the spot for a moment, utterly stunned by the scene. She knew she should close the door, leave the couple to their privacy, and go straight to the cellar for the champagne, but she was utterly transfixed. Completely mesmerised. She could not take her eyes off them, and so engrossed were they in their lovemaking they had no idea she was there.

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