Punishing His Ward (22 page)

The skirts around her head caught her
tears, her hands braced as best they could against the floorboards
of the rocking carriage.  She'd been rather frightened of
being thrown against the opposite seat, until the pain of the
spanking had completely overwhelmed her and she couldn't think of
anything else except begging the Earl to stop.  When he
didn't, she just sobbed into her skirts, clutching at the floor and
kicking her legs in pained response. 

When the assault suddenly ceased, she
almost didn't notice.  Her bottom was throbbing so badly that
it felt like the slaps were continuing; it was more the cessation
of sound that caught her attention.  Tears continued to fall
as she cried, almost dizzy from the pain and her upturned
position.

Then the Earl's large hand rested on
her bottom, much cooler than that glowing surface, and she
shuddered all over at the intimate touch.  To her shock, his
hand began to slide downwards, his fingers moving inwards towards
the crease of her bottom, and then touching the swollen folds of
her quim.  As soon as he did so, she realized she'd had her
usual reaction to being spanked, as inexplicable as it
was.

And a man was touching her
for the first time. Not just any man, but
him.
 

Cynthia moaned as the Earl's fingers
slipped easily between her folds, torn between humiliation at his
discovery, extreme arousal, and shock that he was touching her in
this way.  Her hands batted at her skirts as she tried to
squirm away, but he secured his tight hold on her body and the
layers of fabric effectively trapped her so that she couldn't even
attempt to push his hand away.  And that just made her even
wetter.

Touching herself and having someone
else touch her was completely different.  She couldn't control
or even anticipate where the Earl's fingers might go, and the
uncertainty seemed to make the sensations even more intense as he
stroked her.  Cynthia gasped as the inquisitive fingers
stroked up and down her slit, all the way up to the little pearl at
the apex which was surely swollen beyond anything she'd ever felt
before.  Her wetness had completely soaked her pussy lips and,
as the Earl continued to caress the sensitive folds, was even now
spreading to the tops of her thighs as she became more and more
excited. 

Very dimly, she heard the Earl chuckle
and murmur something.  She couldn't make out what he said, but
he sounded pleased.  Normally she would have been infuriated
by his amusement when she was in such a position, but right now she
didn't care what he did as long as he didn't stop touching her!
 The need that was growing inside of her core was more
intense, more demanding than she'd ever felt before.
 

His other hand curved over her bottom
and she groaned as he squeezed the tortured flesh, igniting the
sharp bite of pain again... it mingled strangely with the pleasure
that his stroking fingers were creating in her pussy.
 Enhanced it even, the way eating something bitter made sugar
taste all the more sweet.  

Then one of his fingers pressed to her
opening and slid inside of her.  Cynthia cried out, her hips
wagging up and down at the shockingly delightful sensation.
 His finger was much longer and thicker than her own, moving
back and forth, deeper and deeper as the rest of his fingers
continued to play with and stroke her folds.  He began
squeezing her reddened bottom in time with his finger thrusts,
causing the burn and ecstasy to collide deep inside of her until
she couldn't tell which was which.

“Oooooh…” she cried out.

This was wicked. Sinful even. Far worse
than any of the other rules of propriety that she’d ever broken,
and yet she had no control over it – which was a heady sensation.
Cynthia had always been in control of what rules she broke and how
she broke them; suddenly having it taken away from her was beyond
exciting.

A second finger joined the first and
she gasped at the stretch of her inner muscles, of the probing
invasion of a man’s fingers. Something pressed against her clitoris
and she bucked and heaved as the Earl’s hand squeezed and his
fingers stroked. The shocking rapture blossomed outward
unexpectedly, her first climax at the hands of someone other than
herself and all the more intense and surprising because of
that.

The pain from the spanking and the
incredible ecstasy from her climax was almost too much. She cried
out, gasping for air, fighting back blackness that edged in around
her vision; the feeling that she was going to faint grew stronger
as the Earl’s fingers continued to stroke, wringing every last
ripple of pleasure from her squirming body. He pushed her far
beyond the edges of pleasure that she found for herself, leaving
her sobbing at the strength of her orgasm.

Finally the movement stopped and
Cynthia slumped over his lap, shuddering as his fingers slid from
her quivering pussy.

******

Beautiful.

That was Wesley’s first thought. 
Cynthia’s bright, glowing bottom was a thing of absolutely beauty,
the wet swollen folds beneath it only adding to the
attraction.  His cock surged, but he beat back the impulse to
lay her against the opposite seat in the carriage and take his
pleasure.  Still…

Leaning back, Wesley
shifted Cynthia just enough to allow him to unlace his breeches,
freeing his cockstem from the tight confines of fabric.  With
a groan, he fisted the hard rod in his hand and pumped, several
times.  That was all he needed for great white streams of cum
to spray across the flaming surface of her bottom, making it look
even redder than before in contrast.  The pleasure of release
left him groaning in satisfaction, more satisfaction that he’d had
ever since he’d arrived in Bath.

Panting, he took his sore hand – sore
from spanking her bottom, so he could only imagine how said bottom
felt at the moment – and rubbed the white rivulets of seed into her
red skin.  The friction of his hand against her sensitive
cheeks made Cynthia whimper, a sound he could barely hear through
her skirts.

With another groan, Wesley
secured his breeches and then brought Cynthia up to a sitting
position, seating her back on the bench she'd started out on. 
She was sniffling, her nose red, her eyes pink and wide with
shock.  The expression on her face was rather dazed as she
stared across at him.  Her breasts had come out of her low cut
dress and Wesley reached forward, cupping them in his hands and
pinching the hard little nipples as he stared into her
eyes.

Cynthia shivered and moaned, rocking
slightly on the seat, which was surely very uncomfortable right
now. Hearing movement outside, Wesley tamped down on his desires to
continue playing with her and he drew her dress back up over her
breasts. The image remained seared in his mind, however, and he
looked forward to being able to enjoy those luscious mounds with a
more thorough examination later.

Opening the carriage door,
he gave a nod to the coachman who was obviously pretending
momentary deafness.  Good man.  Taking Cynthia by the
hand, he pulled her out of her seat and gathered her up in his
arms, ignoring her muffled protest as he cradled her body against
his.  With one arm behind her back and the other tucked under
her knees, there really wasn't any way for her to resist him even
if she hadn't been so dazed.  She was a nice, soft armful; she
felt right snuggled up against him. 

"Thank you, Lordan," he
said to the coachman, before swinging his ward around and heading
for the front steps.  He made a mental note to ensure that the
man got a bonus tomorrow. There was nothing like cold, hard cash to
help ensure silence. Even if he planned to marry her, he didn’t
want his Countess to have a sullied reputation or for anyone to
think that he was marrying her because he
had
to.

There was no one on the street; it was
too early for most of the fashionable of Bath to be returning home,
which was good since there would be no one to gossip.  And he
trusted his mother's staff to keep their lips sealed, especially
once the betrothal was announced.  The only person they would
tell was his mother herself, and he intended on speaking with her
first thing tomorrow.  

Cynthia murmured and wriggled a bit as
he went up the stairs, obviously beginning to come out of her
pleasure induced stupor.  

"Stay still so I don't
drop you," he said, rather lightly as Manfred opened the door.
 The lines of disapproval in the old man's face were deeply
drawn.  There was definitely one servant who wouldn't hesitate
to tell the Countess everything, but Wesley knew he'd be forgiven
once he explained.  And there was every chance that Manfred
would wait till tomorrow to inform the Countess anyway.
 Telling her tonight would only disturb her sleep, and Manfred
wouldn’t do that. So all Wesley had to do to evade a scene was
ensure that he reached his mother before Manfred tomorrow
morning.

Murmuring something again,
her words too indistinct for Wesley to make out, Cynthia
snaked her arm around his neck to further secure herself in his
arms as he made his way for the stairs.  Grinning, he could
nearly feel Manfred's eyes boring into the back of his head.
 He knew exactly what kind of picture he and Cynthia made.
 Manfred obviously thought Wesley rather thoroughly ruined his
ward, in the carriage, right in front of his mother's
house.

Well, that wasn’t too far
from the truth. He had certainly ruined her although not as
thoroughly as he might have liked.  And considering that no
one but the servants knew, it's not as if she was truly ruined
anyway.  But enough that he would have been forced to make a
proper woman out of her, if he hadn’t planned to
already.

Having maneuvered his way
up the stairs, Wesley headed towards Cynthia's room.  She was
snuggled into him now, her head resting on his shoulder, her
fingertips lightly playing with the hair on the back of his neck.
As long as she knew that it was him carrying her and she wasn’t
thinking of some other man, then he certainly didn’t mind.
 And his desire was already rising again as the back of his
neck tingled under her touch.  Knowing that underneath her
skirts she had a very red bottom with his seed pressed into it
didn't help. He really shouldn’t have done that, but he hadn’t been
able to help himself.

It had soothed part of his
possessive jealousy, as though he’d irrevocably marked
her.  

They'd have to have the
wedding as soon as possible, he decided.  He didn't think he'd
last four weeks while the banns were read.  Getting a special
license would be the first thing on his to-do list.  After
speaking to his mother.  And getting his little minx a ring.
 

******

Maybe this was a dream,
Cynthia mused.  Although she couldn't imagine how she would
have fallen asleep at a ball.  Or have conjured a dream of
such a painful spanking.  Perhaps the first part wasn’t the
dream and she had passed out during her punishment?  Lowering
thought.  She'd always considered herself rather more robust
than that.  

She knew that this really
wasn’t a dream, but she felt so deliciously hazy, so wonderfully
muzzy... and the Earl wasn't behaving at all like himself.
 Everything felt rather dream-like.  Well except for her
throbbing bottom.  But even that had been lessened by the
incredible ecstasy that the Earl's fingers had wrought in her.
 She wasn't entirely sure what had happened after that until
they'd come into the house.

When she'd taken a peak
over the Earl's shoulder on the way to the stairs, she'd seen
Manfred glowering at them.  Inwardly Cynthia sighed, knowing
that she was likely to get a lecture from the Countess tomorrow.
Possibly two if the Earl told her what had happened at the Assembly
rooms. Probably another lecture from the Earl and possibly another
spanking as well.  

She really shouldn't let
the Earl be carrying her like this, but it felt so nice.  No
man had ever carried her.  The muscles beneath his clothing
moved and strained, and were so very attractive.  It made her
want to touch him, to run her hands over every part of him. The
most she dared was his hair, which was soft and easily twined about
her fingers.

How was she supposed to
recover from this?  Everything he did just made her further
obsessed with him.  Cynthia pushed the thought away,
determined to enjoy being in his arms while it lasted and dealing
with her twisted emotions on the morrow.

"In we go, baggage," he murmured as he
pushed open the door to her room.

Silly
chit
, she scolded herself.
 
Baggage
was
not a term of endearment, even if that was how her ear heard it.
 

Gently he laid her down on
her bed, making her bottom twinge, although she didn’t try to roll
away. She finally dared to look up into his hazel eyes.  For
once they weren't hard, rather they were almost thoughtful,
contemplative.  Searching, rather than focused, as if he was
trying to see within her rather than already knowing her thoughts –
which he so often seemed to do.  Heavy eyelashes blinked and
then a slow smile spread across his face as he examined hers.
Cynthia stared back up at him, eyes wide, waiting… but she didn’t
know for what.

He lowered his head and
Cynthia gasped as his lips met hers.  The Earl was kissing
her!