Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
When she literally begged for it…
He wanted to spank her, but he couldn’t, because none of this was her fault.
He let her go, held her at arm’s length to gaze into her tortured face. “Listen to me, Elizabeth. You are exceptional. You are lovely.” You are tempting. Chaotic. Beautiful in your pain. “I can’t spank you when you’ve done nothing wrong.” He left her to fetch a handkerchief, so he wouldn’t have to keep dabbing her tears with his sleeve. “You must go back to the house and rest your troubled mind,” he said, handing her the clean square of linen. “You must go to bed and get some sleep.”
“I can’t. I will only toss and turn.”
She burst into a fresh torrent of tears, muffled by his handkerchief. There was nothing to do but take her in his arms again and try to soothe her. It was well his valet was a deep sleeper, for her sobs were lusty enough to damage his soul.
“I’m a bad person,” she said, as he held her close. “A terrible person.”
“You are not.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re my friend.”
“I believe I will have to spank you, Lisbet, if you continue to berate yourself.”
“What else am I to do?” She shook in his arms. “I don’t try to be different and strange. I just am. I came here because… I wish you would spank me because then…when you spank me…” She drew in a shuddering breath. “It calms me somehow. When you spank me, I know that I am…that I am kept under control.”
Her hair had gone wavy and wild, falling in her eyes. He pushed it back and dried her cheeks again. He’d never seen her so emotional, so terribly distraught.
He wasn’t made of iron.
“I’ll spank you if you think it will calm you,” he said. “But it won’t be for anything other than that. And you’ll have to be quiet. My valet sleeps next door.”
“I don’t know if I can be quiet. I need a terrible, painful spanking.”
“No. I’m not doing that.”
“Please. I don’t know how else to bear these feelings.”
He thought a moment. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
He went into the church and surveyed the greenery, remembering they had fetched some pliable silver birch boughs to weave together the holly and fir. He inspected a swag in the back corner and was able to pull a thin switch from the large arrangement.
He bent the smooth, stripped switch, his arousal rising just to hold it in his hand. Was it wrong to punish a woman who was beside herself? A woman who insisted she needed it, that it would help her? Would he really be helping her, or titillating himself?
Can’t you do both?
He pushed down doubt and caution and returned to the parson’s chamber. Elizabeth had shed her red cloak and stood in her pale pink night-robe, a wild child-woman, innocent yet mysterious and powerful in her strange way.
This is not appropriate. You should not.
But he was going to.
He held the switch in a tense grip, down at his side. “I tell you again, Lisbet, this is not because you are bad or deserving of punishment. It is only to calm you. Do you understand?”
She nodded, but he noted her stubborn, disbelieving pout.
“Say it. I am not bad. I am a wonderful and admirable person.”
“I don’t feel that. I don’t want to say it. I can’t.”
He sighed and tapped the switch against his palm, where she could see it, see what she had asked for. “Turn and face the wall, then,” he said. “Pull up the back of your robe and your nightgown, right to your waist.”
She obliged, revealing a lighter, skimpier version of the pantalettes she used to wear beneath her gowns to piano lessons.
“You said you need it to hurt,” he said. “This is going to hurt. More, I daresay, than you’re wanting.”
She didn’t answer. He knew she was crying again. Well, she would have been anyway in a moment or two. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her and gave her a good swipe to her bottom. She gasped, let out a soft shriek. The next strike brought a louder shriek, and he stopped.
“You cannot make noise. You’ll wake my servant.”
She bowed her head. Her arms were clutched in front of her, holding her gown and robe crumpled into a ball against her chest. “I—I can’t help it.”
“Shall I stop?”
“No,” she said. “No, I’ll be quiet.”
He went to his bedside table and picked up the small, leather-bound prayer book he’d found there upon his arrival. After a summary inspection of the binding, he returned to her.
“Open your mouth.”
She looked sideways at him, then obeyed.
“You can bite down on this to prevent yourself crying aloud,” he said, positioning the slim volume between her teeth. “It’s a prayer book,” he added, “should you feel the need to pray silently for divine mercy. Remember, you asked for this.”