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The depth of the authority in his voice stirs me, sending energy coursing around my body. It pools at the apex of my legs, causing delicious tingles there. “I am sorry to have pressed the point,” I say, and I mean it, although I cannot help but wonder if it is his discipline which I really crave and have missed this last week.
I swear he senses the answer as he reaches for me. He sinks the fingers of his right hand into my hair and draws my body toward him. “Lydia,” he says, his voice almost a low growl. “Are you being intentionally disrespectful, I wonder?”
A silent gasp leaves my mouth as I look upon him.
“Oh, so you are…” he says with a knowing smile. “That is what this is about…”
I flush, knowing that there is little point denying what we both already know to be true. I glance up to him, my eyes imploring the messages I long to say. He pulls me closer, pressing my head against his warm chest. “Have you missed me, my love?” His voice is a deep murmur into my right ear.
“Yes…” I just about manage.
“And so you have chosen to be intentionally disobedient, to garner my attention?”
I shift my head, looking wildly into his face. “It is not my intention, My Lord,” I whimper.
“Oh, really, little one?” he asks, as that brow arches once again. “I think that is an untruth. I think you did intend to disobey me, and I think you did so because you have missed my discipline. Am I correct?”
I am trembling as I reply, utterly startled by his ability to read me. “Perhaps, yes, My Lord, but I did not want for you to be angry with me.”
He smiles. “Lydia,” he coos. “I am not angry. But you and I both know what happens to naughty, disobedient young ladies, don’t we?”
My mouth parts reflexively. “Will you spank me?” I whimper.
“Yes,” he says, pulling me toward him as he reseats himself. “I realise that I have been remiss in my duties to you, and for that I apologise. I intend to make amends right this moment.”
In an instant he pulls me forward and down toward his lap.
“But, My Lord!” I exclaim as I lurch headfirst over his breeches. “Not here, Thomas! What if somebody finds us?”
“We have had this conversation, Lydia,” he says firmly as he hoists me into position, “and I have assured you that I will spank you either with, or without, an audience.”
I gasp, feeling the skirts of my gown, petticoat, and stays dragged up my back, leaving my behind exposed and vulnerable. Almost immediately, his hand lands against my bare skin, the sound resonating around the study. I squeeze my eyes shut, stunned by the escalation of events. I pray silently that none of the staff will hear us and enter the room unexpectedly.
A further four swats are landed on my bottom, and they are hard and intense spanks. I am forced to bear each one, feeling the sting and then warmth they leave after his palm has left. From this angle behind his desk I can see very little, except for the expensive rug at my fingertips.
As the next strike lands, I hear Thomas’ voice from over my head. “Why are you being spanked, Lydia?” he asks.
I notice his voice is calm, but there is just the slight edge of arousal laced there.
“I was disobedient, My Lord,” I reply, my own voice trembling as I do.
“Yes,” he agrees, swatting me hard on the rear again. “You disobeyed me in order to get the attention you require, instead of coming to me and telling me about your needs.”
His hand lands on my behind again. “And for that reason, little one,” he says firmly, “you will receive a sound spanking on your bare bottom, and you will thank me for it.”
I whimper as the next strike lands, catching the pulsating need between my legs. “Yes, My Lord,” I moan from over his lap. “Thank you.”
Five swats land quickly, and instinctively I mean to get up, arching my back as I try to move.
His hand holds me down decisively. “You will stay over my lap, Lydia,” he calls out, and I flinch at the volume, hoping that nobody else will hear him. “You need this punishment, do you not?”
“Yes,” I whine, wincing as the next spank lands.
“Yes, you do,” he says, reaffirming my own thoughts. “So just take it, little one.”
I swallow hard, loathing the way he calls me his little one as he spanks me. The label, of course, helps to reinforce my subservience to him. The onslaught continues, and the stinging sensation is intense. He pushes me on, the utter indignation of the punishment both riling and arousing me. At some point I lose count of the swats, feeling the tension between my legs growing and building. I know I am wet, and I long secretly for Thomas to explore me there.
His palm eventually pauses, pressing itself against the warmth of my bare bottom. “How do you feel now, my love?” His voice is filled with passion.
“Thank you for my spanking, Thomas,” I murmur, unsure what else to say.
I hear him laugh, and slowly, teasingly, his fingers dip between my hot cheeks.
“Well done, my love,” he soothes, as one and then two digits slip against my wetness.
I mewl and groan, loving the intensity of his touch already.
“So wet and beautiful,” he whispers adoringly. “I yearn for our wedding night, Lydia, when I can finally possess you as a man should claim his wife.”