Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust) (21 page)

A maid entered carrying a casserole of some kind, and followed it with boiled potatoes and carrots.

‘Ah yes,’ he said, inhaling the mouth-watering smells coming from the large dish, ‘it is indeed her famous stew. I never know what’s in it, but it is delicious beyond compare.’

The girl served them and left, and remembering her training Elizabeth sat quietly, the plate of steaming and tasty-looking food before her.

Lord Michael looked at her. ‘Why aren’t you eating, Elizabeth?’ he asked.

‘Because you’ve not yet given me permission to begin,’ she replied.

‘But you’re no longer under my influence,’ he pointed out, being intentionally blunt, as though he cared not a jot whether she was or whether she wasn’t.

Elizabeth took a sip of her red wine, hoping to suppress her feelings of defeatism, and then she picked up her knife and fork. Lord Michael knew the words and his indifferent manner had hit home, for she looked decidedly despondent, but he needed her to understand her previous behaviour was not a small matter. It was necessary for her to believe the situation was irretrievable, and he sensed that was already very nearly, if not completely, what she did believe.

‘Sir,’ she suddenly said, having eaten a particularly succulent piece of beef that warmed her tummy and instantly made her feel better and more at ease, ‘I would ask you not to keep me in suspense any longer. If you wish to banish me from your home and your company, then please do so now. I cannot stand this uncertainty and tension another moment. Truly I can’t. If there remains irreparable ill-feeling between us it is better that I leave.’

‘Hmm, I seem to remember patience being one of the most difficult qualities to teach you,’ he said, rising from his chair. She watched him approach her and felt her pulse quicken, and when he reached out a hand she accepted it and he led her to the small settee by the window. He sat down and indicated she was to kneel in front of him. ‘So, you want to know where we stand, do you?’ he asked.

‘If it pleases you, sir, I do, yes,’ she said, remembering the respectful phraseology he’d taught her.

‘I see.’ He thought for a while, gazing out of the window. ‘And have you considered what I told you earlier? If I decide to forgive you, you will extract no pleasure from your punishment. It certainly will not be what you’ve been seeking or what you felt you’ve been missing.’

Elizabeth shivered, and steeled herself to go on. ‘I… I have considered what you said, sir, but fleetingly,’ she told him. ‘For there is very little I would not endure to be back in your good graces, subject to your discipline and authority.’

He was glad she had said ‘very little’ as opposed to ‘nothing’. It was a small distinction but an important one, for it showed that despite the training she had undergone thus far she still had her pride, spirit, and character intact – and he would not wish to strip her utterly of those.

‘Let me warn you now, Elizabeth, that if you ever again treat me or the training regime I put you through lightly, if you ever attempt to cheek me or manipulate my good nature in any way at all, no matter how small, you will be banished from my company and there will be no more reprieves. Do you understand me clearly, young lady? I will not be repeating myself on this matter.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said contritely, his words really sinking in, ‘that is perfectly clear. Never, ever again, sir, I can assure you of that, no matter what.’

He considered the openness of her face, and in particular her eyes, a little while longer, then made his mind up. ‘Very well,’ he decided, ‘your sincerity has moved me and convinced me, and I believe you are truly repentant.’

‘Oh I am, sir!’ she beamed, the weight of the world suddenly seeming to lift from her slender shoulders. ‘I am filled with remorse and regret,’ she assured him.

‘All right, Elizabeth, all right,’ he said, raising a palm to forestall any further outpourings of contrition. ‘I believe you.’

‘Oh sir!’ she beamed, kissing his hands.

‘But I am going to sentence you now, Elizabeth,’ he said ominously. ‘Pay attention, and realise what it is you will be agreeing to.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, looking up at him with earnest hope in her eyes, ‘I’m listening carefully.’

‘You shall receive six strokes of the cane,’ he announced. ‘I know you have not experienced the bite of the cane yet. I reserve it for only the harshest punishments, never to be forgotten.’

Elizabeth felt her haunches tense. She was aware of the dreaded rod, and now she was to experience its venomous sting for real. A shiver ran up her spine.

‘Shall I continue, Elizabeth?’ he tested her. ‘Do you accept the cane?’

‘I… um… y-yes, sir,’ she answered uncertainly.

‘Very well,’ he said solemnly. ‘Thereafter you will be brought to the point of orgasm but not allowed release three times a day, for four days. Do you accept this stage of the punishment, Elizabeth?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she answered, wondering how she would be able to endure, but willing to try. ‘But if I am to stay here with you I must inform my father—’

‘I will take care of all such matters.’ He waited to ensure there were to be no further outbursts concerning the more practical logistics of her punishment.

‘You will sleep on the floor next to my bed,’ he continued, after a long enough pause assured him she was finished. ‘You will have a pillow and blanket, but that is all. Do you accept this?’

‘Yes, sir, if it is to be, then I do accept it.’

‘And lastly, you will receive no affection from me whatsoever. Apart from the necessary minimum requirement to expedite your punishment, I will pay you little attention, and will speak to you only when I absolutely have to. And you will not speak to me unless spoken to, and you will not be permitted to leave the house during the length of your sentence. Is that all completely understood, young lady?’

At least she would be with him. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said quietly.

‘Very good, that is settled, then,’ he decreed. ‘In the morning I shall send word to your father. I am sure he will be most agreeable to my plans. Now take yourself up to my bedroom, remove all your clothes and bend over the foot of my bed and wait.’

He watched her leave obediently without another word, and then returned to his tasty dinner. He ate heartily, and thought how pretty her bottom would look marked with the strokes of his cane. He finished his wine, ate a little fruit and cream, then made his way up to his room.

Elizabeth, bent across the foot of the bed as she’d been told to, was filled with trepidation and fear. She wondered just how bad it would be, and when she heard the door opening she squirmed anxiously.

She waited to feel his hand caress her taut flesh, as was his usual manner, but he didn’t. Then she remembered his edict. There was to be no affection and minimal touching. Then suddenly she yelped as he grabbed her hair and abruptly pulled her up straight. He placed a blindfold of unyieldingly heavy leather across her eyes, and there was nothing sensuous or comforting about it.

‘Open your mouth,’ he ordered curtly.

She did so, and he gagged her with a musty piece of cloth.

‘Wrists.’

She blindly offered them to him, lifting them before her. He bound them together then pulled her forward. She fell across the bed and immediately felt his hands at her ankles, tying them together with some sort of rope.

She then heard him moving around the room, the opening and closing of a wardrobe door, then the dreaded cane was resting on the silky smooth slopes of her vulnerable bottom.

He held it there for long breathless moments, admiring the vision before him. Her porcelain-white moons were delectable indeed…
she
was delectable indeed.

There was no escape for her now. He’d outlined the punishment and she’d accepted it, and now the first stage was to be carried out. He slid the cane back and forth across her skin, concentrating on his target, adding to her apprehension, and then raising the whippy implement meaningfully he paused again, hand high above his head, then swept his arm down with the full weight of his shoulder behind it. The cane hissed through air, landing across her flesh with a cruel
crack!

The gorgeous girl stiffened, as though unable to believe the pain or import of what he’d just inflicted upon her, and had the air not caught in her lungs she would have screamed the house down. As it was her mouth gaped and she chewed the gag, but no coherent sound emerged from her tensed body. Instantly a bright red stripe rose and dissected her bottom from one buttock to the other, spanning the deep and shadowy divide.

He rested the tip of the rod on the small of her back, leaving it there, then leaned forward.

‘Stroke number one,’ he whispered callously.

A branding iron could not have been worse, searing her flesh. She felt the tears trying to squeeze from the corners of her tightly clamped eyelids, but strained to fight them back, not wanting to admit to herself or to him that the very first single strike had almost broken her. She was panting through the gag. The burning in her bottom wasn’t easing, and she still had five strokes to go. Feeling the rod resting on her lower back, she wondered how long she would be made to wait before the next appalling stroke was applied.

Then she realised something was tickling her clitoris. It didn’t feel like a finger, but whatever it was, it was insistent, sliding back and forth, circling her most sensitive button. She could not help but writhe a little, at least as much as her bonds would allow. Whatever it was rubbed more aggressively and she felt herself growing wet from its attention. It was insistent, toying and playing between her sex lips, and she moaned into the gag with pleasure. She wondered if she’d misunderstood him, because she could already feel a bubble of bliss beginning to grow. Just a minute or two more of such delightful teasing…

She felt the rod being moved from her back, and it settled a couple of inches below the throbbing mark of the first stroke. Lord Michael heard her take a deep breath, then lifting it he paused ritually, eyed the delicious target below, then swept his arm down with equally vehement velocity as he used for the first strike. The cane sank into her flesh with savage force and she jerked her head up, writhing in torment, squealing through the gag.

‘Stroke number two,’ he declared precisely, watching her squirm, the cheeks of her bottom gyrating unintentionally salaciously.

‘Should I stop now, Elizabeth?’ he goaded. ‘You can always save yourself such punishment and go home; return to your former life.’

Despite being very nearly tempted to do just that, she shook her head fervently, determined to overcome.

‘I did warn you,’ he continued. ‘There is no pleasure in this, is there, my dear?’ Again she shook her head. ‘You wanted your bottom warmed, so perhaps this will teach you to be careful what you ask for.’

Resting the cane on the small of her back once more, he moved the riding crop and began to tease her again, and very soon heard the telltale panting of arousal and removed it, then smiling with satisfaction at the two wicked welts he’d adorned her exquisite rump with, he moved silently away and left the room.

Elizabeth barely heard the door open and close, but she was aware of it. She was beside herself with desire, but the scorching pain in her buttocks compounded this. She was paying dearly for her misbehaviour, and he was right; she would never, ever forget this. At that moment she hoped she would never again give him cause to cane her so stringently.

The minutes ticked slowly by, and Elizabeth had no idea how much time was passing. The lull seemed endless, she was beginning to ache from being in one position for so long, and her stinging welts were no less keen.

When she heard the door open again she breathed a sigh of relief, but it was momentary. Without a word the rod was lifted off her back, and seconds later it landed across the middle of her tensed rear, wrenching an unbidden muffled shriek from her lungs.

‘Stroke number three,’ he proclaimed, and before she had time to engage her thoughts it landed once more, blistering her skin with a line of fire. She shrieked again, and despite her best efforts the tears started to squeeze from beneath the blindfold.

‘Stroke number four.’

He slid the rod between her thighs, skimming it between her sex lips, and despite the scalding anguish of her bottom she could not help but surrender to the erotic torment. She wriggled, and Lord Michael enjoyed the view of her movements and her striped bottom as she tried to pleasure herself against the teasing stick. But it was to no avail. As soon as her panting sighs revealed the state of her arousal he returned it to its resting place, where it forewarned of its potency, across her lower back.