The Harlot Bride (10 page)

Despite these reservations, Lucy lowered herself carefully across her disciplinarian’s knees, moving slowly, for the skin of her bottom was very tight and sore.

“Don’t rub too hard,” she begged, for she still misunderstood his intentions.

When Lucy was in place, Lord Tazewell could not help but pause to admire the sight of what lay so appealingly across his knees. The woman’s bare bottom was raised, and framed nicely by the two sides of her drawers, with a little cherry at the top in the form of the simple tie of the strings of her drawers. If ever two strips of cloth had beseeched a man to undo them, there they were!

Lord Tazewell set his left hand proprietarily across the upper half of her bum and used his long fingers to pry open the cheeks of her red bottom.

“Oh! Oh!” Lucy cried, trying to rise from his lap. “Whatever are you doing? Please stop!”

“Be still!” he ordered. “You are not to speak again until I say you may, or I’ll have you back across the bed for another ten with my strap.”

That made her lie still, though her entire body was as tense and tight as a archer’s bow, and even though she was face down and her head nearly at his ankles, he could clearly hear each anxious breath she drew.

He nodded to Mary, and she held out the jar while peering with curiosity between Lucy’s opened buttocks, moving closer until she had a clear view of the little puckered hole that lay between. Lord Tazewell ignored the maid’s forwardness, although he certainly noted it, and scooped up a finger–full of the slippery ointment from the proffered jar. He then pressed Lucy’s checks open even wider, admonishing her not to squeeze them so, and addressed her in a formal tone.

“You, young lady, are about to be introduced to a method that has been used here in Gorham Hall for many generations as part of the training and disciplining of our females. It’s called ‘buttoning.’”

He paused for a moment to reposition the aristocratic fingers of his left hand that he might press her bottom cheeks open even wider.

“My grandfather used buttons on all seven of his daughters. And my father used it on my sisters, who were just as likely to be spanked publicly as privately, so I saw many a button go into a red bottom as I was growing up. In fact, on some occasions, to the eternal mortification of my older sisters, my father would call me close so I might see and learn, so I would know what to do when I myself had a wife and daughters in need of control.”

Lucy squirmed slightly atop his lap, although it was difficult to do so with her bottom cheeks held so wide. She had begun to pant lightly, but being more terrified of another strapping than of what he was now describing, which in any case was too incredible to be believed, she did not dare to protest.

“My father spanked my mother throughout their marriage, long after we children were old enough to know what was going on behind closed doors,” he continued. “Afterwards, Mother would emerge with a deep blush on her face, quite unable to meet anyone’s eyes, so I suppose that he buttoned Mother’s bottom as well, and insisted that she come to the dinner table like that. She was a very lovely woman, thanks to that attention no doubt, and never shrewish in the least.”

Lord Tazewell tapped a greased fingertip lightly on Miss Lucy Farquhar’s bottom hole, making her squirm in shock and embarrassment and the sheer newness of being touched in such a place. He pressed his fingertip gently on the center of the little pucker, eliciting a gasp of surprise from his supine miss. Then slowly, moving his fingertip a bit from side to side to spread the slippery thick ointment, he began to insinuate his finger into her tight little tunnel, forcing the sides to open and yield to his probing.

Lucy let out a little moan of despair.

“Not quite a virgin
here
, are you, Miss Lucy?” Lord Tazewell asked, although he knew the answer. He drew his finger out a fraction of an inch, only to slide it in again a bit deeper. Mary had moved in closer to watch this progress with what can only be described as sadistic delight, and was apparently so eager to see that she was nearly pressing herself up against her lord and master. But he did his best to ignore her cheeky presumption, preferring to focus his full attention on the shapely red bottom upturned on his lap.

“Oh yes, Doctor Randolph told me about his visit to your bedroom,” he said casually, although in fact his chest was tight with fury at the thought of another man touching her, even at his own behest.

“In fact,” he said, as he partially withdrew his finger from the delectable hot tightness, only to push it in again with more insistence, “the good doctor gave me a full accounting of his examination, including, may I say, your rather shameful comportment throughout.”

Lucy pressed her hands over her face and started to cry genuine tears, even as her husband continued to press his finger sensuously in and out of her very tight bottom hole.

“Doctor Randolph also opined that I should use you here, very regularly. Did you know that? Did you even know, Lucy, that it is possible for a man to take a woman here? Oh, it is, I assure you. He recommended I stretch you, as soon as possible, so that by and by I might take my pleasure in your bottom. He is of the view that you are a very naughty, wicked girl who would come to like it. Do you think that’s true, Lucy?”

There was no answer, not that he really expected one. Lucy was sobbing into her hands.

“But today you’re not being pleasured, are you? You’re being punished. And as part of your reprimand, to make sure you feel suitably chastised; I’m going to place a big, bad button right up your naughty bum.”

He withdrew his finger, wiping it across her drawers, and took up the spindle of smooth wood that had been waiting on his knee. He positioned it so that one round end was nestled atop her bottom hole, neat against that swirl of crinkled pink and brown skin. And very deliberately, he eased it inside of her, carefully pulling the skin first this way, then that, making the little aperture open and accept his discipline.

Lucy cried out in the pain of the forced opening.

“This is a punishment, Lucy,” Lord Tazewell said when he was sure she could hear him. “But please understand that I insert the button not to harm but to instruct.”

He rubbed the small of her back, waiting until her struggle against the object had subsided somewhat. He knew she must be taught to accept it.

“The button will teach you patience as well as obedience, my girl, because it will remain inside your bottom until I say it may be removed. Please understand that you may never remove your button yourself, and should you dare to ask me to remove it, or complain that it is too big, you may be certain I will deal with you far more severely than what you experienced today. And when you’ve been well thrashed for your impertinence, I will replace it with a larger button and require you to keep it in longer.”

Lucy was still now, although her breathing was ragged, and from time to time she emitted a soft moan.

“In time, I will train you to accept buttons far larger than this, ones that will fill you completely and hold you so far open that as long as they are in place you will be unable to think of anything but he who placed it there, and why.”

He tapped her on the back of one bare thigh, and told her to get up.

Lucy rose, awkwardly and uncomfortably, trying to come to terms with the unsettling sensations produced by the object inside her bottom. It held her muscle open most uncomfortably, and the knob inside made its presence felt with every movement. Meanwhile, the knob on the outside pressed and teased at the inside of her bottom cheeks, and she feared it protruded into plain sight, even with her standing.

Lucy kept her gaze low, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to look at either Lord Tazewell or the young maid at his side. Lord Tazewell noted the pose, and observed with no small amount of satisfaction that it was the first time – the very first time – that he had seen this young filly even the slightest bit subdued.

Chapter 7

Lucy spent much of the next few weeks with a button in her bottom, and often, it seemed, standing in a corner with her skirts up and her freshly spanked bottom on display. Matters of her discipline had escalated considerably since her introduction to the bottom button, and although she was now doing her very best to please Lord Tazewell, and so avoid the pain and humiliation of another punishment, it seemed she was spending more time over his knee than not.

And twice a day, whether she was good or not, he called for her to place herself face–down across his lap so he might, as he put it, “attend to her naughty bottom.” As many times as she had now heard these words, they still brought a hot flush of shame to her face.

Lucy had not adapted easily to these changes, and had in particular resisted him when he demanded her submission downstairs or in front of the servants. The first time this happened was the morning after the day he punished her with the strap.

On that morning, Lord Tazewell was already at the table when she came down for breakfast. He did not bother to look up when she entered the room, although he must have heard the rustle of her skirts as she came in.

“Didn’t I tell you to be in your seat before I come to breakfast?” he said in a cold voice.

Lucy stiffened. She had come down intending to be reasonable with him, but he had to meet her halfway. At the very least, she expected some measure of solicitude after all she had suffered at his hand the day before. Surely he regretted being so hard on her, and taking such liberties with her person.

“Perhaps you did,” she replied, all prickles and pride again. “But as I’m sure you can understand, I’m not particularly anxious to breakfast with you after…after…well, after the events of yesterday.”

That caused him to look up from his letters.

Lucy was pleased that she finally had his attention, but her courage faltered when she saw the expression on his face. It was clear that she had once again started off on the wrong foot with him, but once again she couldn’t seem to help herself. The least he might have done, she reminded herself, was inquire after her pains and bruises.

“In fact, I believe, sir, that you owe me an apology,” she said, most unwisely, thus sealing her fate.

“Is that so?” Lord Tazewell said, rising with a swift movement.

Lucy flinched at the sound of his chair moving back but did her very best to maintain her chin it its position of indignant self–importance.

“If you think I owe you an apology, young miss, it’s time I put a fresh blaze on that insolent bottom of yours,” he said, already halfway around the table. “I believe I shall attend to it this very instant! And right here!”

Lucy stared at him in disbelief, then tried to bolt. But it was too late, for he had her firmly by the arm.

“You wouldn’t!” she protested, pulling away and looking around frantically, knowing that he would try to bare her and desperately afraid that one of the servants would see. “No, you mustn’t! Not here!”

“I would and I shall,” he replied evenly, drawing her in towards him. “I won’t have you disobeying me, Lucy, and I won’t tolerate any more of this impertinence. If you require a good spanking and another session with the button to convince you of that, then you shall have what you asked for.”

“No! No, please,” she cried, but he had already wrapped one strong arm her waist and drawn a chair away from the table. Keeping a firm hold on her, he sat himself down, and being much larger and stronger, he quite easily maneuvered her so was laid across him, her hips and belly warm against his thighs, although she was waging a mighty struggle.

“How dare you! Not here! Unhand me this minute!”

Lord Tazewell was greatly annoyed by these antics. Hadn’t yesterday’s lesson taught her anything about submission? Determined to quash her unseemly hysterics, he used his left hand to push her head down towards the floor while with his right hand he reached for the hem of her dress. Despite a great deal of churning and kicking, he very quickly had her skirts up across her back. Then, smiling to himself, he pushed the voluminous folds of cloth and lace over her head, instantly muffling her preposterous complaints and cries. Perhaps she’ll be like a bird in a cage, he thought, quieter when covered.

In any case, the moment he had those skirts up his attention had fully shifted to the magnificent sight right there in the center of his lap, a vista of thin white drawers stretched tight across tasty round buttocks. Oh, she was well and truly upended now, with her bottom perched high and those shapely legs revealed! Lord Tazewell ran hungry eyes along the lines of her limbs, from the lace–trimmed legs of her drawers to the light blue light stockings, gartered appealingly just above the knee, and down to her dainty ankles and feet encased in trim kid–leather button–up boots. Lovely, dainty boots, they were, and he knew he’d soon have their tips drumming on the floor in agony. How many naughty misses had he turned across his knees? And not one had ever been able to keep her feet still once he had a blaze started on her backside!

But this particular bottom, this lovely wiggling mound of fine female flesh, he wanted bare, and from the very outset. There would be no mitigating covering or cushioning for her, not after her impertinence! Lord Tazewell undid the ties of her drawers and easily pushed the thin white cloth down to the back of her knees, in the process revealing a beautiful bottom and lovely white thighs. And much to his delight, she still bore light welts from the strapping he had given her the morning before.

His chest tight with excitement, he caught up first one, and then the other of her flailing arms, and pinned them firmly against the small of her back. Then he raised his right hand high and brought it down with a hard smack against that beautiful bare bum.

Her cry of pain was clear, even from beneath the cloth of her skirts, and a bright red mark rose instantly across the valley between her cheeks. Thrilled, he spanked her again in the same place, and as she jerked forward across his lap, he noticed the warmth of her wiggling belly, even through his trousers, against his risen member. He began to spank her harder and faster, relishing the movement of her body against him as much as the sound of her cries and the pleasure of making those lovely bottom cheeks wobble and fly about under his relentless hand.