Blushing at Both Ends (21 page)

Lillian glared in disbelief. ‘Are you threatening me with violence?' she cried.

‘Yes, Miss Trent, I am. That is, if you include under that heading the treatment you so richly deserve – namely, a good sound spanking.'

The girl's cheeks flushed with indignation. ‘How dare you – you wretch!' she exclaimed, and struck Walter hard across the face.

The next moment, to her great surprise, Lillian Trent found herself face-down across Walter's knee, her pretty nose inches from the parquet floor. She kicked and struggled, emitting cries of fury, but he was a well-built young man, and her efforts to escape were in vain.

Walter too was surprised, indeed taken aback by his own temerity. The idea of spanking the girl had been an exasperated impulse, not the fruit of mature consideration; now that he found himself on the point of doing so, he was overwhelmed by alarm. That he, a mere paid tutor, should dare lay violent hands on the heiress to the
Cartwright
estate – why, it was outrageous! The consequences would surely be dire.

But his hesitation lasted barely a second. True, he was courting disaster. But simply by putting Lillian across his knee he had already burnt his boats. The outrage was committed: to release her unspanked would gain him nothing. Chastising her would surely relieve his feelings, and in any case a sound spanking was just what she deserved. Besides, she was enchantingly pretty – and the light fabric of her morning gown, clinging close about her rearward curves, revealed that not least of her feminine charms was a deliciously rounded and eminently spankable bottom.

With a sigh that might equally have betokened resignation or pleasure, Walter raised his right hand and spanked. Hard. Lillian gasped, kicking her legs wildly, as Walter's vengeful palm descended again. And again. And again.

It was a brief spanking, but an effective one. For two minutes or so, Walter's arm rose and fell, smacking Lillian hard and fast and igniting on her squirming posterior such a blazing heat as she had never known. Not in all her eighteen years had anyone raised a hand to this headstrong girl, and she had no notion how vividly a determined male palm could sting soft female bottom-flesh. The thin organdie fabric of her gown offered scant protection. Each resounding spank hurt worse than the one before, and her outraged shrieks rang round the room.

When Walter finally let her up, Lillian's face was flushed and she was weeping as much from anger and humiliation as from pain. ‘You brute!' she cried, her hands clasped to her smarting
derrière
. ‘I shall have you thrown out!' Sobbing, she rushed from the room.

Left alone, Walter found himself seized by confused emotions. He had ruined his newfound career almost before it had started. Mr Cartwright would dismiss him
without
a reference, and he might never find such another post. Still, it had afforded him huge satisfaction to chastise the lovely impossible girl as she so richly merited. Satisfaction – and, he could not conceal from himself, pleasure. Spanking that sweet young bottom, feeling the tender globes quiver and gyrate beneath his hand, had proved one of the most exquisite erotic experiences he had known. It was with a sense of loss that he reflected he would never have the chance to repeat it.

Within a few minutes there came the expected summons to Mr Cartwright's presence. But, before Walter could blurt out more than a few words, the old man raised his hand. ‘One moment, Mr Jessop. Am I to understand from my niece that you took it upon yourself to
spank
her?'

‘Well, yes, sir. You see –'

‘No explanation is necessary, young man.' The old man's eyes shone with amusement, and he emitted a quiet wheezy chuckle. ‘I am delighted to hear it, and I am sure she eminently deserved no less. Were I not so enfeebled, I should have done as much myself years ago. Pray do not think of resigning your post. On the contrary, I am most anxious that you should stay, and to that end I propose to double your salary.'

Lillian Trent did not return to her lessons that morning. Nor did she appear at lunch, sending word that she had a headache. Walter reflected that the discomfort was probably situated quite elsewhere in her anatomy. However, she reappeared for dinner, and he was pleased to note that she took her seat at table somewhat gingerly. She avoided his gaze throughout the meal, but as she rose after dessert their eyes crossed; Lillian blushed charmingly, and hastened from the room.

The next morning, rather to Walter's surprise, his pupil attended her lessons as usual. She made no
reference
to the previous day's events, but he detected an expression in her eyes that, in a less independent-minded young woman, might almost have been taken for respect.

Whether as a result of the spanking, or of what had passed between her and her uncle, from then on Lillian applied herself to her studies with unwonted diligence. Walter was delighted: with her quick apprehension and acute intelligence, she was a pleasure to teach. True, now and then her attention wandered and the words ‘What a
bore
!' rose unbidden to her lips. But Walter had only to murmur, ‘Discipline, Miss Trent,' and with a faint blush the girl would readdress herself to the task in hand.

Shorn of her petulant airs, Lillian proved a charming, indeed enchanting, companion. Frequently, she and Walter were thrown together after lessons were over for the day, and it seemed she enjoyed his society. Nor was this for want of any other, for suitors for her hand were never lacking. As the richest heiress in the county, young and beautiful into the bargain, she attracted a constant stream of admirers – none of them, in Walter's wholly unprejudiced view, remotely worthy of her.

Among the most assiduous visitors was Mr Cartwright's nearest neighbour, Sir Hubert Tremayne. A plump ungainly individual in his thirties, he was master of several hundred acres, all heavily mortgaged. But who could doubt that any personal or financial deficiencies were eclipsed by the glory of his title, one of the most ancient baronetcies in the land?

Sir Hubert, Walter was glad to note, received scant encouragement from Lillian in his lumbering courtship. On the contrary, she treated him with open contempt, frequently choosing the hapless baronet as the target of her humour at the dinner table. Most of her shafts being too subtle for his dull wit, Sir Hubert generally responded by smiling uneasily, though not without a certain
bovine
complacency, perhaps taking her mockery for a mark of affection.

Now and then, though, a satirical thrust would penetrate even Sir Hubert's suety carapace, making him dimly aware of the scorn behind her raillery. ‘Oh I say, Miss Lilly,' he protested after one such sally, ‘you're a bit hard on a fellah! I'm not a complete fool, y'know.'

‘Indeed, Sir Hubert?' enquired Lillian sweetly. ‘Then do tell me – just which parts are you missing?'

Walter could not suppress an involuntary snort of mirth. Sir Hubert shot him an irate glance.

Not all Lillian's suitors, by a long way, were as fatuous as Sir Hubert. But, to Walter's gratification, she seemed to prefer the company of her young tutor to that of her admirers, no matter how handsome and well born.

As the weather grew warmer, Lillian took to riding in the afternoons, and Walter often accompanied her. No great horseman, he found in the stables a placid grey mare to suit him. Lillian, who rode superbly, easily outpaced him on her black stallion, and could not resist taunting him for his slowness. More than once, as she cantered ahead of him, Walter found himself studying the jouncing curves of her pretty young bottom, and recalling how they had jounced even more deliciously when he spanked them. One more jibe about his poor horsemanship, he mused, and he would be sorely tempted to repeat the treatment.

One hot afternoon in July, they rode to the furthest reach of the estate, where a hill clothed in ancient woods gave on to a hazy distance of soft rolling countryside. Dismounting by a venerable chestnut tree, whose gnarled roots afforded natural seating, they left their horses to crop the nearby grass.

Lillian was looking her loveliest. Her red-gold hair, tousled from her ride, fell in profusion about her face; her hazel eyes sparkled with vitality; and the close-fitting
riding
habit made the most of her alluring figure. As they talked, she smiled on Walter so beguilingly that, before he knew what he was doing, he had taken her in his arms and kissed her.

She returned his kiss with enthusiasm. It was a long and fervent embrace, and when Walter finally released the lovely girl it was only to blurt out, without stopping to think what he was saying, ‘Dear Lillian – Lilly – will you marry me?'

At these words, the change to Lillian's face was startling. Her expression of dreamy arousal gave way to one of utter contempt. Pushing Walter away so rudely that he almost toppled over, she sprang to her feet.

‘Not you as well!' she exclaimed furiously. ‘I thought you were different. But you're just another squalid little fortune-hunter, aren't you? Like all the rest! Just like that fat fool Hubert!'

Walter sat thunderstruck as the implications of her words sank in. The ardour of her embrace had been unmistakable; yet his impulsive proposal was rejected with scorn. As for comparing him with the oafish Sir Hubert, that was the last straw. Anger rose in him, and his voice trembled with rage. ‘So that's what you think of me, young lady? The humble tutor – good enough to amuse yourself with as a brief fling, but quite unworthy to aspire to your ladyship's hand? I thought better of you, Lillian Trent. You're not just a spoilt brat, you're a conceited little snob to boot! Well, you'll be treated as you deserve!'

Half-rising, he seized her by the wrist. She cried out and made to strike at him with her riding crop, but he grasped that hand as well, pulling her inexorably down towards him. There was fear in her eyes but also, he perceived, a covert hint of excitement.

‘Walter! You wouldn't . . . rape me?' she implored.

He grinned sardonically. ‘You flatter yourself, my girl. No, I merely mean to complete the treatment I
started
a few weeks ago. I thought I'd spanked some good manners into you, young lady, but it seems I didn't do the job thoroughly enough. I shan't make the same mistake this time!'

Ignoring her outraged protests, Walter pulled Lillian down across his knee and turned her riding skirt up above her waist. She kicked and struggled wildly, but he clamped his right leg over both her thighs, pinioning her in position, and surveyed the tempting target now revealed to his gaze.

She wore no petticoats, and her raised skirt disclosed a charming pair of lace-trimmed
directoires
whose creamy silk fabric clung closely to the delectably rounded flesh, hugging it like a second skin. Such fine material would offer little protection; but the temptation to see, and spank, Lillian's sweet bare bottom was too great to resist. As well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, Walter murmured to himself, as, hooking two fingers in the waistband of her undergarment, he drew the lacy fabric down over her ripe rearward curves.

As she felt herself denuded of her most intimate garment, Lillian writhed desperately. ‘No! Walter! How dare you!' she shrieked, and flung one hand back to shield her naked rump. But Walter captured her wrist in his left hand, and lowered her drawers until they hung in a silken tangle around her knees.

Her bottom was soft, full and flawless, its plump contours the more voluptuous by contrast with the slimness of her waist. Walter regarded it with delight, then raised his hand and brought it down with a ringing smack that echoed through the woods.

‘Aaaah!' Lillian gasped in pain and surprise. She remembered how much her first punishment had stung; but to be spanked on her bared bottom, she now realised, would sting considerably more. Another smack, just as hard, left her in no doubt. ‘Oww!' she wailed. ‘Walter! Stop it! That
hurts
!'

‘I'm delighted to hear it, young lady,' her tutor responded pitilessly, continuing to spank her quivering mounds with gusto, ‘and I can assure you it'll hurt a great deal more before I'm done. Since this may well be the last lesson I shall ever give you, I mean to impress it effectively upon your – memory.'

‘Owww! No! Walter! Let me – aahaah! – go at once!' Lillian yelped, but Walter was as good as his word. His arm was strong, his hand was hard and his frustration was enhanced by anger that this lovely girl, whom in many ways he adored, should appear so heartless a minx. He would soon part with her forever, but first he was resolved to give her a chastisement she would remember the rest of her days.

So there in that sunlit glade Walter spanked spoilt young Lillian Trent long and hard on her squirming bare bottom, relishing his task, taking care to cover every inch of her soft girlish roundnesses with resounding smacks. So crisply did they ring through the woods that a gamekeeper half a mile off on the next estate paused to wonder who was chopping trees in the Old Copse. Each stinging spank deepened the blush on Lillian's nether cheeks, turning the luscious young flesh from white to pink, from pink to rosy red, until the full expanse of her lovely orbs was suffused with a rich fiery glow.

Writhing helplessly over Walter's knee, Lillian now heartily repented having treated him with such contempt. Her russet curls tossed and her long legs kicked wildly as the heat built up in her shapely rear, each remorseless spank fanning the flames ever more hotly. She was being punished, humiliated, hurt as she had never been hurt before; yet in some strange fashion she felt assured, protected even – as if she had been found out and known in her most secret place, and was now held firmly there and treated severely but justly. Once before she had provoked this man to anger, and had
suffered
the consequences. If now he again visited retribution on her, it was no more than her due, and she could find it in herself to respect him for it. But – owww! – would he
never
stop?