Correcting His Ward by Samantha Madisen – Extended Preview

Charlotte had gone to Sir Browne’s chambers at eleven, and seated herself on his bed, hands clasped together, waiting for him to return. She was dressed in her shift, with no undergarments on. She’d tucked them under her pillow and arranged the other pillows under the bedclothes so that should Mrs. Pruitt for some reason check in on her, she would believe she was fast asleep. It was a wonder she had never thought of the trick before.

As the minutes ticked by slowly in the dark, she grew cold, and wished she had thought to bring a housecoat of some kind. But even as she shivered in a cool draught, the thought of her discipline, so close at hand, made the warmth between her legs spread outward through her entire body.

She was still sitting on the bed when she heard footsteps, at long last, coming down the otherwise abandoned hallways of her guardian’s wing.

She stood up, fumbling suddenly with what to do with her body. She at last settled on standing, hands in front of her, head bowed, for his arrival.

He opened the door, and she looked up at him briefly. His expression was stoic as usual, but a wild glint was in his eyes, and his mouth moved slightly when he saw her. Her heart soared, hoping that he felt even a fraction of what she felt.

Yet that was an impossibility, she realized.

Sir Browne closed the heavy door to his quarters and latched it with a loud noise, making Charlotte jump slightly. She looked at the floor as he approached, his footsteps heavy and masculine. Her skin burned from head to toe with excitement and fear.

He stopped just inches in front of her, so close that she could smell his heady scent and feel that his body was hot. She shivered involuntarily.

“Miss Halpine,” he said coolly. “How long have you been here?”

She looked up at him, but his eyes burned through her and she looked away as she answered. “Sir, perhaps an hour. Perhaps longer.”

There was a silence.

“And you are ready to receive the discipline we spoke of this afternoon?” he said finally.

Charlotte shifted from one foot to the other. “I am, sir, yes.”

Another pause as Charlotte’s heart fell to her feet.

“You were very, very naughty, Miss Halpine.”

“I know, Sir Browne.”

“And naughty girls receive very strict punishments.”

Charlotte was unable to speak, as she felt that the wind was knocked out of her by his words.

“Not only that,” Sir Browne said, stepping even closer and lifting her chin after sliding his fingertips along the length of her jawline, “I intend to begin your training this evening.”

Charlotte’s eyes flashed. “Sir? Training?”

“For now, we shall deal with your discipline,” Sir Browne said dismissively. He stood back from her. Charlotte’s stomach twisted as he began to undress himself, unbuttoning his dress shirt slowly. “Take off your shift,” he commanded.

Charlotte hesitated only a moment, but that single moment made Sir Browne’s eyes glisten with impatience. “Young lady,” he said. “You are to obey me at once, whatever my request is, as you shall with your husband. Take your shift off and do so as though you have been waiting all day for my command and will take no greater pleasure from anything but to do as I instruct you. In time, you shall feel that way, if only you apply yourself to the practice of being a subservient and obedient wife.”

“Yes, Sir Browne,” Charlotte said breathlessly, lifting the shift at the same time and pulling it over her head. The room was quite cool and her skin was covered instantly by gooseflesh.

Sir Browne smiled, surveying her body. “Get onto the bed,” he commanded. “On your hands and knees.” He continued speaking, and undressing himself, as Charlotte obeyed him. “This is a position you will take often, and when you do, you will take it with great pleasure and display yourself to your husband.”

Charlotte was on the bed, on her hands and knees, shivering slightly in the cool air. She looked behind her and saw the Sir Browne was bare-chested behind her. “Arch your back,” he commanded, and Charlotte was confused.

His hand came down on her lower back, lightly, pushing it toward the bed. At the same time, his drew his other hand between her legs to lift her by her lady parts and bring her bottom up.

Charlotte’s face went red, but she remained in the humiliating position after he removed his hands.

“There we are, Miss Halpine. That is very lovely,” Sir Browne said. “You must remain just as you are while you are punished, and you will remain just as you are when we begin your training.”

Charlotte looked ahead to the great oak headboard. “Yes, Sir Browne.”

“Now,” he said curtly. “It is my understanding that you pleasured yourself, even as I asked you specifically not to do so, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Charlotte breathed.

There was a long pause, while Charlotte heard him move behind her to the wardrobe that contained his instruments of punishment. She started to turn her head and he cut her off sharply. “Look ahead at the headboard, Miss Halpine. I will decide upon the instrument of your punishment tonight.”

He was there a long time, taking the instruments from the wardrobe and running his hands along the length of the straps and paddles. Charlotte knew it was theatrical, but it made her center well up with juices that trickled down her thighs.

At long last, Sir Browne seemed satisfied with his choice, and though Charlotte strained to see it in her peripheral vision, she could not. She trembled in anticipation as he stood behind her. What would he use to deliver her punishment? The cracking hardness of the cane, that left a streak of red-hot pain that only slowly spread, and then faded very quickly? Or the blunter heat of a paddle or his hand, which was warm and then turned hot, and spread very slowly, throbbing as it went?

Or something else?

“Remember your training, Miss Halpine, as you take your punishment.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlotte said, wondering if he knew that she had passed much of the day imagining this moment, the way that the words would feel in her mouth as she said them.

Sir Browne had decided upon a leather belt, and it cracked in the air before it came into contact with her skin. The bite was sharp, though not more painful than the cane. The heat spread over her skin and then dug in, radiating straight to her lady parts.

“One,” she gasped. “Thank you, Sir Browne, may I have another?”

Waves of heat traveled through her skin as she waited for the next whipping. The room was thick and heavy as she waited, each second dragging by, etching shivers of fear and wet excitement all over her body. Her own heavy breathing disguised the sound of the belt slashing through the air, so when the second flogging bit into her skin it was nearly unexpected.

Her voice was trapped inside her chest and came out with much more difficulty. “Thank you,” she managed to say, her eyes watering and the delicious burn of humiliation and submission creeping over her shoulders and her cheeks. “May I have another?”

Sir Browne took his time with each flogging, giving her long moments to feel the heat turn from sharp and poker-like to throbbing cascades that made her excitement trickle down the insides of her thighs. As she asked him again and again for another whipping, her excitement only grew, and the twisting, cold feeling in her chest only tortured her more delightfully.

At last she asked for, and received, the tenth whip, across the lowest part of her bottom. The leather grazed her exposed lady parts and she whimpered in pleasurable pain. Her eyes were watering uncontrollably, and her whole bottom was hot and stinging.

She awaited his next instruction, longing to touch her skin or move. She winced, more out of surprise than anything, when he placed his hand on her bottom and the heat of his skin ignited the slowly dying burn on her backside. He rubbed her skin and it made her mewl.

She sucked in her breath sharply, however, and turned back to Sir Browne suddenly, when his fingers moved between her buttocks and brushed against the pucker of her darkest hole. She fell out of the position he had placed her in and scooted toward the headboard.

The leather strap cracked in the air. “Miss Halpine,” he said sternly. “Move back to where you were and display your bottom for me, this instant, or you shall receive yet another lashing and this time I shall use the full force of this belt.”

“Sir, I—” Charlotte began, but he cut her off with a swat on her bottom. This was a firmer whipping, and Charlotte gasped but scurried back into position.

“Sir Browne,” she said, when his fingers touched her again on her anus. “I… I… ‘tis quite unlawful and unnatural to—”

Sir Browne ended her tirade with a swift swat to her backside. It stung far more than any other. “Face the headboard,” he commanded, and Charlotte reluctantly turned toward the oak panel.

“When you are married you will more fully understand,” Sir Browne began, placing his hands on her hips and moving her into position by spreading her legs open a little and then gently pressing on her upper back until she was face-down on the bed with her bottom tilted up toward him. “Your husband will want to partake in the pleasures of your body at least once per day, if not more.”

Charlotte sucked in her breath again as Sir Browne’s thumb, which had started to caress her in the dip between her buttocks, had slid down to her anus, and was making a circle around it slowly, teasingly. She tried to push up again, but he pushed back and delivered another swat as a warning.

“Not all men want to have children, however. Mr. Davenport has many heirs and they are full grown, so he has requested that you understand, as his wife, that he will take you from behind to assure that his fortune is not further divided while he still enjoys the pleasures of your body and your submission.”

“But it’s… not allowed!” Charlotte protested, as his finger continued around her anus and she squirmed. “It’s—”

She stopped speaking when a warm glob of spit landed squarely in the center of her anus. The liquid seeped inside of her, making her twist in pleasure. Sir Browne’s thumb swept over her puckered hole more fluidly, lubricated by his spit. Another glob landed on her, and she clutched at the sheets.

“You will allow your husband to take you like this whenever he desires,” Sir Browne continued, “so you must learn to either enjoy it or bear it, because I sense that Mr. Davenport will want you like this quite often.”

Charlotte wanted to ask if this meant that Sir Browne intended to put himself inside of her, but she did not have time to ask the question as his fat thumb was already slipping into the pucker of her anus.

“Oh!” Charlotte squealed, for the pain was at first quite sharp. He continued until his whole thumb was inside of her, and almost as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone, replaced by a queer fullness and a soreness that was not entirely unpleasant. A dull ache, not as intense as the one in her cunny but similar in nature, began to radiate throughout her bottom, and into places she had never felt before.

Sir Browne bent his thumb, pushing out on the walls of her bottom. He rotated his finger as he did so, making Charlotte cry “Oh!” again as his finger—smooth as it may have been—turned roughly against the sensitive ringlet of her bottom.

“That’s a very good girl, Charlotte,” Sir Browne said. “You’ll be ready for Mr. Davenport in no time.”

Charlotte’s cheeks turned red with humiliation again, as she pictured the fat bald man huffing away behind her with his prick embedded in her bottom. The thumb was uncomfortable, and she couldn’t imagine anything thicker not tearing her apart.

Sir Browne moved his finger in and out in a sawing motion that made Charlotte gasp again. “Ow!” she proclaimed. “Oh!”

“Be still and behave yourself, Charlotte. You are a woman and you must submit to the pleasures and whims of your husband with enthusiasm and delight. Just like with your spankings, you must thank me and ask for more, and you shall train yourself to view the pain differently. So come now. Thank me for fucking your ass with my finger and beg me to put something else inside of you that will make you squeal.”

Charlotte’s mouth fell open in shock, for the string of words uttered by Sir Browne were quite unfamiliar to her.

Still, there could be no denial from her when her ‘cunny’ so insistently grew wet and pulsed with desire.

Sir Browne’s thumb plugged away at her, each stroke becoming more tolerable until the ache was one of pure pleasure.

Her reverie was interrupted by a swat from Sir Browne. “Charlotte, I want you to repeat what I have told you to say, like a good little girl.”

“But the words are so… so dirty,” she gasped, as he plunged his finger deep inside of her again.

“Say it,” he said calmly. “Say it or I shall stuff my manhood into your tiny hole and make you scream.”

Charlotte clawed at the sheets. “I want… thank you, and I… want…”

Sir Browne pushed his finger deep inside of her roughly. “Say it just like I requested. Say, ‘Thank you for fucking my ass with your finger, Sir Browne. Please put something else inside of me that will make me squeal.’”

The words rained down on Charlotte and brought her blood to the surface of her cheeks and ears in a hot wave. She could scarcely believe she’d heard such words, let alone imagine herself saying them. But the prospect of Sir Browne’s huge member being stuffed inside of her, while in some ways appealing, was also quite frightening. And there was, as always, a part of Charlotte which was almost insatiably curious: what ‘something’ else would Sir Browne put inside of her?

As she deliberated these savory and unsavory options and attempted to form the words Sir Browne had requested she say, Sir Browne began to move his thumb around in a clockwise motion, pressing outward on the walls of her insides. Each sensation of pressure touched places she had never felt or even imagined before, and while the ring of her anus felt tight and stung slightly with the movement, the rotating fullness delighted her.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice whispery with her intense pleasure. “Thank you for… for…”

Sir Browne pushed his thumb downward and the raw ache shifted, making Charlotte lose her train of thought. “Say the word, Charlotte. Fucking. I will teach you to do far more naughty things with your mouth than that, but if you use such a naughty word at any other time you will be disciplined severely. But you must learn to do as your husband says, whatever he may ask of you. Right now, I am acting as your husband might, and training you thusly. So you must say what I want you to say, or you shall be soundly punished.”

His finger was moving around as he spoke to her, and Charlotte could scarcely concentrate on the words. Her cunny was dripping onto her thighs, and her face was hot with her humiliation. She chewed her lip before she stared ahead and quietly repeated the words as Sir Browne desired.

“Thank you, Sir Browne, for f-fucking… me with your… with your finger, and please put… oh! Please put… something else inside of me that will make me…” She paused, and closed her eyes. “Squeal,” she finished helplessly.

The words had felt so very naughty in her mouth, and the color in her face had deepened as she said each one.

Sir Browne’s finger slid from inside of her, rough as it passed from her tight ringlet. Charlotte could feel the eyelet spasm when he left her empty, and she was surprised to feel a craving for him to return his attention to her insides, filling her with ‘something.’ She knew it was wrong, but what could she do but submit to Sir Browne and her husband? It was not her fault if she found such perversions somewhat pleasurable.

Her face reddened again, as a droplet of her arousal snaked down her thigh. Behind her, Sir Browne was moving around, opening storage furniture of some kind. She didn’t dare to look and see what he was bringing, but the suspense with her bottom supplied to him in the air made her even wetter.

When he returned, he applied a cool, smooth object to the inside of her thigh and drew it along the rivulets of her arousal, spinning the object as though to take up the juices upon it.

“It’s a pity, Charlotte dear, that Mr. Davenport so insists upon your intact hymen, else I could better lubricate you for this next step. As it stands we will have to make do with what we have.”

The object was removed from her thigh, and before she could wonder what would happen next, Sir Browne swatted her lightly. “Up on your hands and knees now,” he said.

She obeyed but was surprised that Sir Browne worked his fingers into her hair and pulled on it slightly, tipping her head up. “Now Charlotte, I am going to ask you to open your mouth and take this object inside of it. You are going to get this object, which is called a plug, very wet, so that it will slide inside of you nicely.”

Charlotte tried to look behind her, but Sir Browne only tightened his grip on her hair. “Come now, Charlotte, you want to show Mr. Davenport that you can be an obedient wife. Open your mouth, and get the plug wet for me. If you do a very good job, then I will not have to punish you any more than I have. Disobedient girls must be disciplined, however.”

Charlotte opened her mouth, and a tear slid out of her eye as his grip on her hair grew tighter and pulled at a loose strand until it stung.

She lowered her eyes to look at the object as it neared her mouth, and could see only that it appeared to be polished wood in the shape of a very small male member, though quite thick at one end. From the thick end something dangled, but she had no time to see what it was, so she allowed him to put the object into her mouth.

The taste of the juices he had swept up from her own cunny assailed her tongue first, and she started to make a noise, but Sir Browne pulled on her hair and swatted her bottom, while pushing the plug inside of her mouth until the dangling pieces of leather hung over her lower lip.

“Your husband will likely take pleasure from making you taste your own juices, Charlotte, as well as his. You are to do as you are told and enjoy the fluids of your own body if it brings your husband pleasure, and to enjoy his seed as well. Close your lips around this plug and get it wet with your mouth and taste the juices of your cunny because I have commanded you to do so.”

Charlotte obeyed. The object was small and in truth she had hoped for something larger in her mouth, and perhaps even… down there… to fill her again. The taste of her own juices was tangy and sweet, and while it made her face burn with humiliation it was not so bad.

Sir Browne pulled the object from her mouth, and a long strand of saliva clung to it and fell across her chest.

He brought it behind her and released her hair. She let her head fall forward and stared through her loose locks at the sheet as Sir Browne rubbed the now-warm tip of the plug against her sore puckered hole.

Then he began to push it inside of her slowly, and Charlotte gasped as she had before. This time, though, she knew what to expect, and she felt herself open for the object as it slowly filled her. It was slightly thicker than his thumb, and longer, so new places were stimulated by it and made Charlotte’s cunny well up again.

The end of the object stretched her anus wide, and she gasped again, but then the object came to a stop, and the straps of leather tickled her inner thighs where they dangled.

Sir Browne pressed his fingers to the center of the object and lightly pressed up and down on it, causing the long phallus to move inside of her, pressing on her inside walls. A new ache started to build, a craving for thicker filling and deeper exploration of her body. Charlotte was silent, but a curdled moan escaped her throat after a few minutes.

Sir Browne swept up some of her excitement with his finger and brought it to her lips. He smeared it onto her mouth like a lip coloring.

“You are to wear this plug inside of you all night tonight,” Sir Browne told her. “And when you come to my chambers tomorrow, I will know if you have obeyed me. But remember that I can lift your skirts and check on your obedience at any time. You will not be pleased, Charlotte, if I am disappointed in you.”

“Yes, Sir Browne,” Charlotte said. Her body ached for some relief, and she expected he would continue to torture her without allowing her to obtain it.

“And if you decide to pleasure yourself, Miss Halpine, I will know.”

“Yes, Sir Browne.”

He leaned toward her and breathed on her neck. “I expect your complete submission to my will,” he said.

Charlotte closed her eyes as the heat of his breath traveled over her skin. “Yes, Sir Browne,” she promised, and this time, she meant it. She would feel a supreme pleasure, far greater than the relief of an orgasm, in obeying Sir Browne.