The Inheritance (28 page)

"Yes it does.
But in the morning we shall announce our grand news and send word
to your father, and then all kinds of things will start happening.
I wish to be married one month from today. You will need to start
planning."

"Oh how
incredibly exciting," she squealed. "I can't wait!"

"Up and dress
now. We must hurry before the servants wake to start their chores,"
he said, sitting up to leave the bed.

"Master," she
said, placing her hand on his arm and stopping him.

"Yes my
dear?"

"This chamber.
This chamber is magical. I can feel it. I can feel the souls of all
those lovers who chose to spend their time here. Please can we
continue to come here even after we are married?"

He leaned in
and kissed her, a warm, wet, deep kiss.

"Of course.
You are right. It is our special place and it will always be so,"
he replied, then looking up he said, "Do you hear that, ghosts from
the past? We are officially here to stay, and we thank you for your
blessing."

Laughing,
Elizabeth jumped from the bed, and in the chill of the early
morning dressed quickly, as their invisible friends laughed and
danced with joy.

C
hapter Fifteen

Consequences

It was a
joyous morning. James and Lydia were so excited about sharing their
news they blurted it out the moment Elizabeth and Lord Michael
entered the dining room for breakfast. When Elizabeth squealed that
she and his Lordship had also become engaged, the two girls went
rather mad, twirling around the room, giggling and hugging. James
and Lord Michael shook hands and patted each other on the back,
then all four finally settled down to a celebratory breakfast.

But the
frightening events of the morning before, and Elizabeth's narrow
escape from the clutches of the evil Andrew Carrington, wasn't far
from their minds. Each had learned a valuable lesson.

The wedding of
Lord Michael and Elizabeth would take place in Hanley Hall, and
with only a month to plan there was much to be accomplished in a
short amount of time. Elizabeth wanted it to be the affair of the
year in the local community and indeed, the entire county.

Since James
and Lydia had been courting a short time, a date for their special
day would take a while to determine. James decreed however, they
were to marry sooner rather than later.

As soon as
breakfast was finished, an excited Elizabeth ran to the barn to
ride Constance and share her wonderful news with Roy, while Lydia
and James departed for their morning walk to discuss their plans.
Lord Michael withdrew to his study to view the various business
matters that had occurred in his absence, and to consider
Elizabeth's punishment for disobeying him. It was a serious offence
and she needed to be taught her lesson in no uncertain terms.

So it was,
after the midday meal shared by all on the terrace, Lord Michael
pulled Elizabeth aside and instructed her to meet him in his
study.

"At precisely
one p.m., please Elizabeth," he had said, sharply, then quietly
informed James to keep Lydia occupied, and told Mrs Danvers and
Carstairs he would be working on some important matters in his
study, and under no circumstances was he was to be disturbed
between one and two p.m.

Much thought
had been given to her punishment. Initially he was going to carry
it out in the secret chamber but decided the formality of the study
better suited the occasion. There was to be nothing romantic or
pleasant about it.

He was seated
at his desk when she entered, right on time, and he told her to
lock the door behind her and to draw the heavy drapes allowing
enough light from the centre and sides to illuminate the room.
Nervously she did as instructed then stood in front of his austere
desk. She wasn't sure why she had been summoned but with his
brusque and formal manner she assumed it related to the unfortunate
episode with Andrew Carrington.

Leaning back
in his opulent leather chair he studied her carefully. She looked
anxious and tentative and he assumed she knew exactly why she was
there. He decided to get right to the point.

"You were
profoundly disobedient," he scolded.

His dark eyes
were shooting darts across the small space between them and she
dropped her eyes, withering under his reprimanding gaze.

"I know,
Master. And I'm so terribly sorry," she whimpered, her voice barely
audible.

"Your
punishment shall be as follows," he began. "First you shall receive
six strokes of the rod."

Knowing how
she dreaded the rod he paused, watching her. She gasped, then began
to shift her weight from foot to foot.

Six strokes! Oh my goodness
.

The most he
had ever delivered was three - once for calling his bluff when he
counted to five - something she would never do ever again; and when
she had attempted to manipulate him into spanking her shortly after
she had accepted his authority. She recalled how furious he had
been with her back then. For him to decide on applying six strokes
now!

The enormity
of her crimes and their potential consequences suddenly dawned on
her. It was more than just simple disobedience. She had second
guessed her Master at every turn and had done just as she
pleased.

He recognized
the awareness as it flickered across her face.

"Yes,
Elizabeth. Six strokes. You should thank yourself lucky. I almost
made it a Baker's Dozen."

"Master," she
quivered, "I - uh - understand."

"I would hope
so," he replied, sternly. "Second, after your bottom has been
appropriately striped you will retire to your room where you will
sit your naked bottom on a towel at your desk, and write out one
hundred times, I Must Obey My Master."

She gasped a
second time. A towel would not be a comfortable cushion at all.

"You will be
confined to your room until dinner, and return there immediately
following. At some point in the evening I will visit you. The
moment I enter you will immediately place yourself across the bed,
raise your skirt and pull apart your drawers so I may inspect your
backside," he finished, his voice as stern as she had ever heard
it.

Oh my goodness. He is so very cross with me
...

"Tomorrow
morning at breakfast you will invite Lydia to take Mindy around the
front fields. You will sit on Constance for as long as Lydia wishes
to ride."

Elizabeth
inwardly groaned. She could guess how uncomfortable the time in the
saddle would be.

"After lunch
you will once again retire to your room, sit your naked bottom on
the same towel and write out one hundred times My Master Knows
Best, and again you will spend the rest of the day confined to your
room," he proclaimed. "After dinner you write me a letter. In that
letter you will explain how you feel after your punishment and what
you have learned. You will place it in an envelope and give it to
me when I visit to inspect your bottom. If I find the letter
satisfactory that will be the end of the matter. If I do not - I
shall have to consider what else might be done to make you see the
error of your ways."

He had not
taken his eyes off her, and watched her squirm, wring her hands,
gasp, shudder and inwardly groan. Now her hands were behind her,
doubtless resting apprehensively on her behind. But her gaze had
stayed focused on the floor. He believed there were two reasons she
had not dared look at him. He had no doubt she was deeply ashamed,
but he also suspected she did not wish to see the extreme ire
reflected on his face.

Rising from
his desk he opened the top drawer and withdrew his rod, lifting it
in the air for a moment. He saw Elizabeth offer the severe stick a
quick glance then dart her eyes away. Placing it on the desk
directly in front of her, he returned to the drawer and withdrew a
length of cord. Both items he kept secreted in his quarters but had
fetched them after lunch.

"Look,
Elizabeth. Look at the instrument that will punish you for your
gross disobedience," he commanded, as he laid the rope next to the
rod.

She slowly
moved her eyes and allowed them to fall upon the fierce weapon.

"What do you
have to say?"

"Thank you,
Master. I deserve such punishment," she whimpered. "I was foolish
and... and... I disobeyed you in the most dreadful way," she
finished, stifling a sob.

"You did
indeed. It does appear you are most remorseful but the lesson must
be brought home."

"Yes,
Master."

"And for this
punishment you will be gagged. I cannot have you screaming out," he
said, curtly, removing a white handkerchief from his pocket and the
grey ascot from around his neck.

He strode from
around the desk and wadded the hanky inside her mouth, then tied
the ascot securely behind her head to keep it in place. Picking up
the length of rope he instructed her to raise her hands and deftly
tied them together.

"This is a
kindness, Elizabeth," he said as he knotted the ends. "You do not
want your hands flailing in defence as the rod is flying through
the air to its target."

A tremble
rippled down her spine. He was right; it was a kindness. She just
wished it was one she didn't need.

"Place your
elbows upon the desk please, and arch your back."

Oh Dear Lord. Please don't let him strike me too
fiercely
.

Leaning down
she rested herself over the desk, turning her head to the side. She
was surprised he'd not blindfolded her, but as she studied the
bookcase and the dark wood panelling she realized that viewing her
surroundings would spark the memory of this moment every time she
entered the study.

Her dress and
petticoats were up and over her back in a flash and he was untying
her drawers. But he didn't allow them to drop to the floor. He
pulled them mid-thigh then tied them tightly, keeping her legs
together. She recalled he had done something similar the last time
he had whipped her, but had used a leather strap.

Lord Michael
reached for the rod. It was a fine, well made instrument. Applied
with expertise it was not so thick it would bruise and not so thin
it would lacerate the skin. But it held a significant sting and he
intended to land it on her backside to deliver just that. He did
not address her - she had been scolded enough and she knew exactly
why she deserved this visit from his rod. He simply tapped three
times on the upper part of her cheeks.

Lifting it
back about three feet he swung his arm down, landing the stick
exactly where he had intended. Elizabeth let out an odd sound
muffled by the gag and bent urgently at the knees. He waited
patiently as she straightened up, then tapped three times a few
inches below the bright red stripe born from the first strike.

The second
blow elicited the same groan, the same bent knees, and the same
deliciously lickerish line.

"Number three
now, Elizabeth. Halfway there," he announced, tapping again.

And so it
continued, each swipe extracting the same reaction; the odd,
muffled cry, the bent knees, and the resulting thin streak of
scarlet crossing her bottom.

By the time
the last blow landed she was softly sobbing. Lord Michael did not
touch her, but returned to his seat behind the desk and placed the
rod back in the drawer.

"Look at me,
Elizabeth," he said firmly.

Elizabeth
lifted her teary eyes to face him.

"In a moment
I'm going to lift your drawers and lower your dress," he began.
"Then I'm going to remove your gag and untie your wrists and walk
you over to the corner. You will stand there for fifteen minutes
and compose yourself and think about what you might like to say to
me. When I tell you time is up you will come back here, kneel
before me and say whatever it is you have to say. Nod your head if
you understand."

Her head
bobbed up and down as much as her position allowed, and he leaned
back in his chair, watching her as she closed her eyes and rested
her cheek back down on the hard wood of the desk. It had been a
most satisfactory whipping, one he knew would remain with her long
past the time the sting had passed and the marks had
disappeared.

Turning his
attention to some loose papers in front of him he spent a few
minutes tidying up. When her quiet sobbing had ceased and her
breathing had returned to normal he walked around behind her and
loosened her drawers, then lifted them up and fastened them at her
waist.

"Come along,"
he said, helping her up by her shoulders.

The dress fell
around her and he quickly untied the gag and the ropes that bound
her wrists, then taking her by the elbow led her slowly to the
corner of the room across from his desk.

"You know what
you must do," he said coolly.

"Yes, Master,"
she stammered, and holding her hands together, stared at the
floor.

Returning to
his desk, Lord Michael unlocked and opened the drawer to his right
and withdrew the innocuous looking envelope. It had been delivered
by hand to his office in London and forwarded to him at Hanley
Hall. He had known immediately its contents. Lifting the flap he
withdrew the thick cream linen paper. Stamped in gold, across the
top and in the centre of the card, were the words he knew so well.
It was the invitation underneath that made him smile and filled him
with great anticipation.

The
Brotherhood of Loving Dominants. B.O.L.D.

You are
selected to become a member of the inner sanctum.

Circle of
Masters Extraordinaire. C.O.M.E.

Membership
requires your wife be initiated.

The ceremony
will take place as follows: