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Punishing Lady Jane by Rosy Maylor – Extended Preview

“Come here.” Roud settled himself in the chair. The fire, immune to the unpleasant task ahead, still crackled merrily.

His wife was also immune. She collected herself with a satisfied groan and slid off the bed. “Yes, my lord.” She approached him with a light step and stood naked between his knees with her head hung, the picture of contrition.

He rubbed his upper lip as he studied her, torn between amusement and exasperation.

The spanking he was about to give her would not be unpleasant. He didn’t doubt it would provide much needed catharsis for them both. It was the conversation that must precede it that he was reluctant to start. “Do you remember the rules I laid out before I took you to the party?”

Her eyes lifted in surprise. “Of course, my lord.”

“What were they?”

“Ask permission. Be respectful.” She ticked off the ABCs of etiquette on her fingers one at a time. “Obey Mistress Caro. She will settle all disputes. Her decisions are final.”

“So you do remember them.”

She frowned at him, confused. “I… I didn’t break one of the rules. Did I?”

“No.” He wished that were the case. “You broke all of them.”

A nervous laugh escaped her. “That’s… All of them.” She rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t have. The last two aren’t even… I don’t even see how…”

He hoped his expression adequately conveyed that the time for jesting was over.

She swallowed. “What happened, exactly?”

“I turned my back on you for one moment and I spent the next hour looking for you.”

“Oh.”

“I told you to stay with me.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember that.” She hugged her elbows. “But it’s not as if I was in any danger.”

“No. You were completely safe.” Because, unlike his wife, the rest of the club members could be counted upon to obey the rules.

“I’m sorry I wandered off.”

“Yes, well.” So was he. The Terrys’ home was massive; together with the grounds it had taken a long time to search. At first he had been annoyed, then anxious, and then—when he’d started to encounter the affronted guests she’d left trailing in her wake—horrified. “When I found you, you were holding a whip which did not belong to you.”

“Oh.” She pressed her lips together.

It was not the least bit funny. The mistress who owned that whip was well known for her lack of humour where protocol was concerned. “You were sitting on Mr. Terry’s lap.”

Her face fell. “Oh, my.”

“He was bound to the chair, naked. And covered in hot wax.” Nigel Terry had a particular fondness for hot wax, especially when his wife and their mistress dripped it over him in the midst of their lovemaking. Which Jane had interrupted, without permission, in a most disrespectful manner.

She covered her mouth.

“Mistress Caro herself demanded your immediate departure. Which you resisted.”

“Oh.” Her head fell into her hands.

“You knocked over a candelabra and set fire to the rug.”

Her shoulders hunched.

“You will apologize to the Terrys and anybody else who’s there at the club, including Mistress Caro herself, this evening.”

Her head snapped up in horrified realization. “Oh, no. No, Roud, please. I cannot face them!” She reeled away and the pitch of her voice raised with each statement. “I must make some excuse. Roud! You cannot expect me to—”

“You will apologize to them tonight.”

She made a small sound of dismay and began wringing her hands. “Oh, no. Oh… No, that’s not the proper thing a’tall.” Her wide green eyes searched his face, imploring him. “One mustn’t compound one’s rudeness by speaking of it. I ought to make mention that I do not remember that portion of the evening and then never, never speak of it again. That’s—”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Shadows danced over her naked breasts as her chest rose and fell with panicked breaths. “You cannot—”

“The proper thing to do, Jane,” he informed her with some satisfaction, “is to take your punishment now, with good grace, and prepare yourself to apologize to everyone at the club this evening.”

“The club? You are not—you cannot take me to a brothel.” Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper on the last word. “You cannot. I won’t go. I won’t.”

“Then I will drag you there and put you over my knee right in front of them.”

For a moment she only looked at him. “You wouldn’t.” She was absolutely certain.

He leaned back in his chair. The sound of Dodson puttering around in the next room drifted into the silence.

“I…” Her lips trembled. “I can’t. Roud.” She sent him a look comprised of pleading and firm resolve. “No. I cannot face them. Not tonight. Another time, a week from now.” Or never, her horrified expression seemed to say.

“Come here.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Jane backed away.

“Now.”

Her heart leapt to obey the stern command, but he couldn’t possibly expect her to apologize to the mistress of a brothel? There had to be something she could say to get round him? Perhaps if she summoned up some tears? “Please, my lord. I will apologize, of course. But in my own time, in the proper way. You are not so attuned to these delicate social matters as I am and—”

“Here.” He slapped his thigh. “And put your hands on the floor.”

Bother. She raised her chin. “It’s hardly fair to use force to get your way when I am attempting to have a rational debate with you.”

“This is not a debate, Jane. My resolve is fixed.”

“But—”

“You will obey me, like a good and dutiful wife.”

She flushed. That wasn’t fair. She was well aware of her duty and would not dream of shirking it in any real or meaningful way. But this—

“If I have to wrestle you over my knee like a naughty little girl it will not end well for you.”

Her bottom clenched around the plug as she remembered his earlier threats. “I’m sorry, my lord.” She swallowed her protests and lowered herself over his knee until her hands found the floor.

His other leg came down over both of hers, trapping her completely.

Blood rushed to her head, washing all other thoughts from her mind. Truly it was a sort of madness, the need she felt to be degraded and mastered thus.

He gave her a good heft and snugged her close to him. He smacked her hard with the flat of his hand, first on one cheek and then the other without further preamble.

“Oh!” Her hips ground against his thigh as she struggled. “But my lord!” Surely he would take the plug out now?

He spanked her again. Gave the plug a firm jostle to seat it well inside her. And then gave her another hard spank.

“Oh!” Her hands fisted against the floor. It should not have surprised her that Roud would spank her plugged bottom. It was just the sort of escalation she was becoming used to.

The first time he produced the plug and explained its purpose she’d cried and begged him not to use it. It was beyond the pale of him to ask such a thing. She was a Hayworth and his wife, not some common whore for him to toy with for his own perverse amusement.

He’d seen straight through her embarrassed protests and made quite a game of threatening her with it. That had gone on for at least a month. Eventually, her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she’d given in. Well, not so much given in as she had remained stubborn and defiant in the face of his threats, full well knowing the consequences.

The first time he pushed it inside her she thought she might climax, simply from the novelty and shame of submitting to such a depraved act.

Recently, he’d begun threatening to fuck her there.

The mere suggestion was enough to ensure her good behaviour. A lady, even a degraded and perverse one like Jane, could not possibly consent to such a thing, no matter how curious she got.

“Do you like this, Jane?” Each quick blow echoed off the walls and stung something fierce.

An outraged moan was her only reply.

“I think you must. How many times have I spanked you in the last month?”

She had no idea. It wasn’t as if she kept track. “Often.” The plug wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been at first. But she couldn’t help clenching around it, nor could she ignore it, not when her bottom was heating and stinging with each blow.

“You don’t have to disorder my library and get soused, Jane. You might just ask me to spank you.”

What an awful thing to say. She squeezed her eyes shut. She much preferred his threats.

“You are dripping down your thighs.”

She couldn’t deny it.

He rubbed one sore punished cheek and then the other. She could feel his arousal building as the rubbing became gripping and his grip tightened to a squeeze. His restraint was wearing thin. “Is this what you want?” He spanked her in a fast relentless spurt.

She stopped crying out, or even moving at all. Her mouth stayed open on a gasp of fulfillment.

The blows moved to the crease between her bottom and thighs.

Her body jerked in reaction to the pain, but her soul calmed and settled. A soft glow seemed to overtake her and she surrendered to it. The rightness of it was inescapable. She did not like it, not at all, but it was what she needed. Exactly what she most needed.

“Good.” His words drifted down, penetrating the fog that had fallen over her like sparkling drops of rain. “That’s better. Now we are getting somewhere.”

Her arousal stirred at the slight mocking note in his voice.

His hand came to rest over the plug. “Time for the brush. Ask for it, Jane.”

“Please…” She arched against his hand.

“That’s it. Offer your hot little bottom to me. Ask for your punishment.”

A shudder of near painful arousal burned through her. It took a tremendous effort to say the words she knew he wanted to hear. “Please punish me with the hairbrush, my lord,” she stammered with clipped poise.

“Very good, Jane. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Tears sprang to her eyes. The angst visited upon her when he made her say such things was just as painful as the physical blows. The keen excitement she felt was tempered with confusion—surely there was something very wrong with her? And Dodson must hear it all.

He spanked her already very sore bottom with the brush again and again.

Her pleas and screams added to her torment—she felt she ought to fight to maintain some shred of dignity but from the outset she was yelping and before long she was pleading for mercy.

Eventually, he slowed. “What did I promise you if you took your punishment well, Jane?”

Each measured swat stung worse than the last, but it was nothing compared to her discomfort with the question. “You-you said you would let me…” Jane was torn. A lady must never speak of such things, even if she did them, even if she enjoyed them, speaking of them was the true sin. Still, she knew that was precisely the point. “…suck your cock, my lord.”

He didn’t let up. “And if you were bad?”

She felt dizzy with shameful arousal now. The first time he’d suggested she suck his cock she had kicked up a mighty fuss. Now it was one of her favourite activities. This other act he’d begun to fixate on though, was much more depraved. She couldn’t speak of it without help. She braced herself to be spanked hard for her reluctance.

He stopped swatting her and wiggled the plug instead. “I shall be happy either way, Jane. In fact, it’s past time for you to submit this tight little hole to my cock.”

“Oh, please!” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I ought to start taking your bottom hole regularly. Then it will be easier for you speak about it.”

“No!” Jane tensed against the thrill her husband’s words inspired. “Please, please, I’ll say it.”

“What did I threaten to do if you were bad?” He resumed spanking her with the hard wooden brush.

“You said you would… Ow! Oh! That you would fuck my bottom.”

“Very good.” He let her have it then.

Jane pushed her bottom up to receive the remainder of her punishment with a moan that was half agony and half ecstasy. She was in a sweaty languid state between dreaming and waking when he finally stopped and pulled her up to sit on to his lap.

He tucked her under his arm, cradling her against his chest. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No, my lord.” She clung to his strength and buried her face in his shirt to hide her smile. It really wasn’t that bad. She might have endured a lot more.

For a few blissful minutes he stroked her hair and rubbed her sore bottom. “Very good, Jane. You were very brave, very good.”

“Thank you,” she whispered with heartfelt gratitude into his shoulder as she squeezed herself closer to him.

He kissed her head. “On your knees now, love.”

She slid out of his lap and knelt at his feet, naked and wanting.

His gaze moved over her as he unbuttoned his trousers and took out his cock.

Her face flamed, remembering the uncovered bodies she’d tried so hard not to look at the night before. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help sneaking a look here and there at everything that was usually kept hidden and never spoken of and everything that a lady ought never even to think about, especially not in company.

His gaze settled on her mouth. “Kiss it.”

It took all of her restraint to press her lips to the tip of his hard cock and withdraw. She was hungry for his cock now; ravenous, in fact. The perversity that led her to crave the kind of pain her husband gave her was satisfied, for now. A new need replaced it; the need to serve, to please, to be used by him in turn.

“Please use my mouth, my lord.” Her polished voice was tarnished, low and thready with longing. She met his eyes, offering up her shame.

“Open.”

She obeyed.

He cupped the back of her head and thrust his cock into her yearning mouth.

Her lips yielded to his hardness as he forced himself deeper with each thrust. It was a struggle; a messy struggle that left her teary-eyed and drooling and gasping for breath, a struggle that forced her to abandon all pretence of dignity or grace, and that was probably why it was exactly what she craved most.

His hand fisted in her hair when he climaxed at last with a satisfied animal groan.

She coughed and gagged as she swallowed the hot spurts of fluid that exploded in her throat.

He guided her head to rest against his thigh and stroked her hair.

“Thank you, my lord.”

His eyes were closed and his head was tipped back in repose. A soft smile passed over his lips. “You’re very welcome, love.”

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