Head of Household by Lily Harlem – Extended Preview

“Good morning, Uncle Radley,” Alfred said, quickly taking his seat at his desk and clasping his hands together.

Ah, so this is the famous Lord Radley Fairbank. I get to meet him after all.

“You may leave, Henry, Alfred,” Radley said. “Nanny wishes you to have an early lunch before your nap.”

Nap?

“Yes, sir.” Alfred scooted out of the room.

Henry stood, gave Liz a shy smile, then he too disappeared, clutching his teddy.

Radley shut the door with a resounding click.

Liz set down the chalk and brushed the dust from her palms.

Radley walked over to her, his expression unchanging as he took in the messy sand and pebbles on the desk. He then looked at the drawings on the board, his dark eyes narrowed.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

“Hi, I’m Liz.” She held out her hand.

“I have been reliably informed that you are Elizabeth Moray, and a highly recommended governess.” He didn’t take her hand. “Which begs me to question the very reliability of that latter information.”

She dropped her hand. How on earth could she answer that question. She wasn’t a governess, and who had highly recommended her?

“I’m sorry if I have offended you,” she said. “But I’m quite surprised to be here too.”

“You are?”

“Yes. It just sort of happened.” She gestured to the door. “But the boys, your nephews, are a delight. So inquisitive, they’re like sponges at that age.”

“Sponges?” He frowned. “No, they are to be moulded into young men who will be fine upstanding members of the community and not bring disrepute on their family.”

“I’m sure Alfred and Henry have no means to cause disrepute.” She shook her head. “They’re what… six?”

“I am well aware of the age of my new charges.”

She dipped her head and lowered her eyes. “And can I just say how sorry I am for your loss.”

“Thank you, my sister and I were close. It is a great tragedy that has befallen our family.”

“But you taking on the boys is very noble and generous.”

“I have the means to care for them.”

“You do.” She stepped around the desk. There was something about Radley, despite his apparent surly demeanour that was very appealing. He didn’t look as sharp-faced as on his portrait at Fairbank Manor and his eyes, they were narrow, yes, but they flashed with emotion, as though he held pain, passion, and secrets within them.

He nodded at the sand. “Clear this mess up.”

“I will… sir. I was just showing the boys how rocks hit the surface of the moon and make craters.”

“They should be studying Latin and algebra.”

“Well, yes, that has to be taught too, but since I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying I thought we’d do something fun.”

“You will be staying for a very short period of time, Miss Moray if you can’t stick to the curriculum I drew up for their schooling.”

“It was a little fun, and they were interested.” As she spoke, she knew arguing with the dominant, handsome man standing before her was a mistake.

He bit on his bottom lip and spun his attention once more to the blackboard.

As he studied it, Liz looked at his hands; his fingers were long and elegant, and he wore no wedding ring.

The cook’s words came back to her. If she tells His Lordship about your shameful punctuality you’ll be upended and spanked.

Upended and spanked?

Was that really what Lord Radley did to his staff who stepped out of line?

She’d been spanked before, by Daryl, at the beginning when things were good, and down and dirty time was abundant. He’d enjoyed it, so had she. The sensation of his hand striking her, the heat, the sounds, it had all turned her on. The sex afterward had always been sensational.

But Lord Radley? Really? Was he a spanker?

“And what is the meaning of this?” He nodded at the board and took a deep breath.

“I was explaining.”

“Explaining what exactly?”

“About astronauts, and the moon landing of 1969.”

He turned his attention back to her, stepped a little closer. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s history. Well, it’s not really, it hasn’t happened yet. But it will.”

He shook his head.

“Please don’t think I’m crazy, I’m just—”

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy, I think you just need to learn your place and understand that you are not here to fill the boys’ minds with ridiculous ideas.”

She breathed deep, inhaling his scent. Soap and leather, perhaps a hint of cigar smoke too. “But, it’s not, it’s—”

“I…” he snapped, “am the head of this household and you will do as I say, at all times and without question. Do you understand me?”

She clamped her lips shut. The look on his face, the tight set of his lips, and the way his breathing had picked up excited her. It shouldn’t but it did. It was as if she was in some erotic dream, and had found herself an austere Mr. Darcy or a wild Heathcliff to play with.

“Miss Moray,” he said.

“Er, yes.”

“Do you understand what I am saying?” He reached out and straightened her collar, his fingertips just brushing her neck.

A zing of sensation fizzed over her skin and scalp. She should run for the hills, she knew she should. Whatever whacky thing was going on with her, couldn’t last, it shouldn’t last. She’d landed in a different time, a different dimension. “Yes, I understand.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“I do.”

He shook his head. “I do, sir.”

“I do, sir.”

“Here at Fairbank Hall I have rules, and if they are broken I have punishments.” He paused. “And now I will show you what that punishment is, for you.”

“Really… but I—” Before she knew what was happening he’d spun her to face the table. She glanced down at the sand a second before her belly hit it and she was bent double. “Ohh…”

“I wish to keep you here at Fairbank,” he said, “the boys clearly like you, but you must obey my instructions at all times.”

“I’m glad they like me.” She pressed her palms to the desk and went to straighten. “Really I am…”

But Radley had his hand on her back and held her firmly in place with her breasts now pressing on the wooden surface and the sand scattering. “This is a respectable home and I will have those two young men educated as I see fit.”

“We were only… oh…” He’d yanked her skirt up, the material dragging over her knickers and the cool air washing over her thighs.

Damn it!

What the hell was she doing? She should be fighting him off. This stranger who had just tipped her over a desk and exposed her stockings and knickers. With his talk of spankings it was no mystery what was coming next.

But I don’t want to fight him off.

That thought blasted into her brain like a whirlwind. She couldn’t push it away. Because if she were honest this was the most excitement she’d had in a long time. And certainly with one of the cutest, if austere, unusual men she’d ever met.

He was like all of the heroes in her favourite books rolled into one.

So she stayed stock-still and listened to the sound of his breathing.

After a moment he set his hand on her right buttock. He rubbed over it, dragging her knickers slightly as he explored her curves.

She squirmed, knowing she’d dampened the material of her underwear. There was no doubt about it, she was turned on, even if slightly mortified by how willing she was to stay bent over for him. The shame wasn’t enough to make her object or put up a battle.

“Keep still,” he said, pressing on her back to hold her in place.

She wasn’t sure, but it seemed to her his voice was deeper, as if laced with anticipation. Did he like what he saw? Her rump, her stockings, her pale thighs? Did he spank his staff because it aroused him?

She shifted her hips from side to side as though inviting his touch. She was curious, she wanted to know more, feel more.

Thwack.

A stinging slap landed squarely over her right ass cheek.

She cried out and jolted forward. Damn, that had hurt. He’d put real male muscle behind it. There was feeling more and then there was a really hard spank.

Thwack.

Another hit the opposite buttock before she’d had time to recover from the first one.

“Shit, ouch…” she gasped, clenching her buttocks and digging her fingernails into her palms.

“You deserve this, Miss Moray, and you’re going to take it like a good girl.” He kept her trapped on the surface of the table, his hold on her firm and determined. “Stay still. If I have to tell you again, there will be penalty swats.”

He smacked her twice more, with the flat of his hand, adding new layers of sting to the pain that was already there.

Her skin was growing hot, likely pink too. She wondered if she’d have the imprint of his fingers on her flesh and if he’d like the fact his hand had marked her.

“I demand obedience from my staff,” he said, rubbing over the area he’d just slapped. “And this is the price you must pay for stepping out of line.” He explored lower, down the backs of her thighs, the tips of his fingers stroking over the tops of her stockings.

She held her breath and curled her toes in her stiff shoes, his feathery touch so gentle in comparison to the spanks.

He then slid back up and swatted her again, hard, expert slaps that were as if licks of fire were stroking over her skin.

“Oh, God,” she groaned. Heat slipped between her legs and she became aware of her blood pulsing in her clit.

“You’re a bad girl,” he said, applying a single swift slap to the top of her legs, just below the crease of her ass.

“Ouch!” Renewed humiliation swept through her. This wasn’t like when Daryl had spanked her and she’d giggled. This was the real thing. It hurt. That part of her, the top of her thighs, was so sensitive.

Surely he knows that.

He spanked again, but this time over the roundest part of her buttocks, his palm cupped, and the sound ringing around the room and into her ears. She could cope with the pain there. It was hot but dull, it ached but not in a sharp way.

She moaned and pressed her forehead to the cool table as the thudding between her legs bloomed into desire and he continued to swat her.

He was holding her so securely, the pressure of his flattened hand on the base of her back unrelenting and strong. Part of her was angry that he had her so trapped; another part of her was aroused. It was a confusing soup of emotions. In her head she wanted to get away. But her body told her to stay. As it was she stayed stock-still.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice breathy and excited as he paused in his energetic reddening of her ass. “Relax into it, don’t fight me.”

She closed her eyes, screwing them up tight. The way he’d spoken told her Lord Radley was turned on by what he was doing despite professing it to be for her own good. He was a spanker, it yanked his chain, pushed his buttons. Discipline it might be, but she’d bet good money he had a raging erection pressing against the material of his smart trousers.

She tried to relax as he’d told her to, enjoy her own arousal and push the shame away but it was hard. Her skin was burning, and her pussy damp. Were they going to take this further? Her nipples were tight peaks, her cheeks hot, and her toes ached from being curled within her shoes.

He applied two sharp spanks, lower, almost but not quite on the tops of her thighs again.

“Oh, no more…” she said, reaching the point she needed it to stop.

Stop or change to fucking.

“Just a few… more…”

She groaned. Being the person he was enjoying sharing his kink with was erotic but also painful. The balance was tipping. He’d have to accept his lot for today; that was all she could take. “No.” Again she squirmed, but it seemed to only increase the pace of the slaps and several more rained down. “No. Stop.”

A shard of fear went through her. Surely he’d end this now she’d asked him to. Her ass must be scarlet.

He struck her again and again. Fast, faster still. His breaths coming in short sharp pants.

Her heart pounded and adrenaline swamped her system. She tensed and placed her palms flat on the table. It was time to fight back.

Then as suddenly as the smacks had begun, they stopped.

He snapped her skirt back into place and lifted his hand from her back.

Liz dragged in a breath. The pain in her ass burnt white-hot and her brow was damp with perspiration.

Slowly she lifted, brushing the sand from her black blouse as she did so; it sprinkled onto the table, some fell to the floor.

“You will clean that up,” he said, nodding at the grains around her feet.

“Yes… sir.”

“And you will remember to do as I tell you, at all times.”

“Yes, sir.”

Surely any second now she’d return to the twenty-first century. She’d wake up. Be in her own bed, or the one at the rented cottage. This was all a vivid, sexy dream, nothing more. And wow, she hadn’t realized that spanking was so heavily imprinted on her erotic mind. But for a dream this graphic…

He stepped up close, and rubbed his palms over one another.

She wondered if they smarted. If he could still feel her flesh coming into contact with his. Was he aroused? Would he have liked to take it further, drag off her knickers and fuck her now that he’d pinked her buttocks?

He tipped his chin, studying her intently as though trying to figure her out.

She didn’t care if he didn’t know what she was thinking, and she held his gaze, almost defiantly. He might be handsome and rich, but she had a lot to offer too, particularly given that she was from the future and knew so much that he didn’t.

“Ensure tomorrow’s lessons run smoothly and to plan,” he said. “And there will be no need for further punishments.”

She said nothing.

He waited for a second longer than she thought he would, then strode from the room, banging the door behind himself.

She dropped heavily onto a chair. “Ouch!” She quickly stood as a fresh wave of sting shot over her flesh. “Well, wasn’t that something.” She shook her head, full of disbelief at what her new employer had subjected her to. “And whatever will tomorrow bring in the Fairbank household?”