Mary
One quick practiced tug of Hartford’s hand and all the breath left Mary’s body as she found herself tumbling over Hartford’s lap with dizzying precision. The world upended, leaving her staring at the carpet as the circumstances of her situation became all too real. There was no denying the firm thighs beneath her stomach, the hard ridge pressing into her side, or the sudden dread that coursed through her body.
Oh, Mary, what have you gotten yourself into now?
Regret was pouring in hard and fast, yet she could not make herself move. Could not even find her voice to protest. The only noise she made was a squeak when Hartford hauled her skirts up, revealing the drawers she wore beneath. Heat flamed her face.
No man had ever seen her legs, much less… well, much less than everything Hartford was seeing. On the other hand, even with her skirts around her waist, she was still more covered than the vast majority of the people present in the household. And given those activities, had she really expected him to spank her over her skirts?
Deep down, she had known… she must have.
“Good girl.” His voice sounded deeper. Rougher. The center of her drawers parted, revealing the bare skin of her bottom. Mary covered her face with her hands, suddenly incredibly grateful for her position over his lap. Somehow, not being able to see his expression made the indignity more bearable.
A large, warm hand covered one cheek, rubbing slightly, preparing the skin for its upcoming chastisement, and a shiver went straight up her spine. Never had a man touched her so intimately—she would have never permitted it, even if she had found one who wanted to. Yet here she was, over Hartford’s lap, allowing him to not only touch her but punish her, and she could not even articulate why.
Rex
Rubbing his hand over the soft skin of Miss Wilson’s bottom, Rex gritted his teeth as he made himself wait for her response. He was not convinced she entirely understood what was happening and wanted to give her every opportunity to call a halt to the proceedings, even if it killed him.
The soft globes were creamy and pristine, a blank canvas waiting for an artist to decorate with pinks and reds, and possibly darker hues. Suspecting it was an entirely untouched canvas added an extra note of interest. If he did not want to discourage further exploration on her part, he would need to carefully tread the line between pain and pleasure—punishing her enough to be effective, but not so much she dampened her natural inclinations.
“Is this your first spanking?” he asked, almost conversationally.
There was a little pause, and he stilled his movements, waiting for her answer.
“I… yes.” Her voice was soft, low. Unsure but eager. It was a tone he was highly familiar with from newer members of the Society, those who had the desire but had never participated.
“Do you understand why you are being punished?” His hand moved across her bottom, and he felt her shiver in response. His cock was achingly hard, pressed into her side. Rex had never particularly cared about his partner’s level of experience. There were different delights to be found, from a novice to a practiced participant and all the variations in between. What he wanted, what moved him, was how eager his playmate was. From everything he could tell, Miss Wilson was hesitant but desiring.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.” He stroked his hand over her bottom, fingers brushing just a little lower until he felt the barest hint of her curls, then retreating.
“Must I?” She squirmed on his lap, for the first time seeming she might try to escape, but he pressed down on her lower back, pinning her down, and felt her still—not the stillness of fear, but the stillness of a woman who had felt the dominance of her lover and submitted to it.
Hartford landed two small slaps, barely stinging, to her bottom—one to each upturned cheek. She let out a little gasp of shock, and this time, when she squirmed, it was not because she was trying to get away. As Rex had suspected, a little taste whet her appetite. Her bottom lifted, a silent request for ‘more.’
“In order for a punishment to be truly effective, the receiver must understand why they are being disciplined.” He patted his fingers gently against the pinked skin he had just slapped. “So, Miss Wilson, tell me why you are being punished.”
She squirmed again when he said her name, the formality of his address while she was over his lap with her skirts up around her waist, affecting her as much as feeling his hand touch her skin.
“Because I snuck into your house and… and invaded the privacy of your guests.” The words came out in a rush, only slightly tinged with regret.
Rex grinned.
“Very good, Miss Wilson. I think twenty slaps should do it.”
“Twenty?” she gasped, squirming again. He firmed his grip on her hip, holding her securely against him.
“To each cheek.” He raised his hand and brought it down with a satisfying slapping sound, his cock jerking with appreciation. Miss Wilson bucked against him, but she did not have time to shriek before his hand was descending again, landing with similar vigor on her opposite cheek. Both swats were much harder than the first little taps he had given her, and when she did find her voice again, she let out a lovely shriek that made him smile broadly.
Perfect.
Mary
That bloody hurt!
So much more than the two he had laid down when she’d questioned him. Those had stung almost pleasurably, making her cheeks and insides feel a little warm. By contrast, the short, crisp swats he was now peppering her bottom with were biting, painful, burning slaps. Was his hand made of wood?
“Ow! Ow! Stop, please!”
To her shock, the spanking immediately ceased. Hanging over his lap, panting for breath, tears stung the backs of her eyes. How many swats had that been? Five? Six? And he wanted to do twenty to each side of her poor bottom?
Yet the moment he stopped, a feeling of emptiness opened up inside her, as though she had been promised some delicious treat only to have it taken away after one small nibble. But a spanking was not a delicious treat. It hurt! So why did she feel so denied?
“I can stop now,” Hartford said, his hand coming to rest on her bottom again, his palm even warmer. He rubbed the spot he had been spanking, and a shocking ripple of warmth spread through her core, making her insides clench. “I can stop, escort you to the door, and send you off… and you will never know more.”
Never know more.
Never be invited back. Never know what put that expression of contentedness on so many faces she had seen tonight. Never feel his hands on her again.
Something clogged her throat, but she could not possibly tell him to continue… could she?
“Be brave, petal.” His voice was a whisper, fingers gliding over the skin of her bottom, promising pleasure. The sting had already receded. Surely, she could withstand one spanking in return for… more. “Be brave, and you will have everything you need.”
Mary’s insides quivered, and her bottom tilted up, silently begging for his hand again.
“I need to hear the words, petal.” There was a note of sternness that did not entirely cancel out the gentle quality of his tone. “Tell me to continue.”
She whimpered, but she could not fault his reasoning. Her voice came out as a breathy whisper, barely audible with its plea.
“Continue, please.”
“Good girl.” Another caress of his hand across her bottom as a reward, then his palm lifted again, only to return with a vengeance. Mary cried out as he spanked her, just as hard as before, giving her no quarter.
Wetness spread across her cheeks, tears sliding down her face, and her legs began to kick. She was not counting the swats landing on her burning cheeks—she could not have concentrated, even if she wanted to. It was all she could do to hold back from begging him to stop again.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!
She wailed, a wordless cry that did nothing to stop the assault on her increasingly tender nates, but a strange thing was happening. Even as the pain of the spanking increased, so did an odd sense of gratification, almost pride, at accepting the punishment rather than begging for it to stop again. She had to bite back the pleas, but she managed it.
As suddenly as it began, it was over. The hard slaps stopped, leaving her shuddering, crying, and almost disappointed. Hartford pulled her into a seated position on his lap, easily manhandling her so her cheek was against his broad chest.
She whimpered as her weight came to rest on her bottom, reigniting the burn, but did not protest the comfort he offered.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “You took your punishment very well.”
Pride—it had to be her pride—welled even further, confusing her. Why on earth should she care if she took a punishment well? Yet, she could not deny she did.
A hand slipped under her skirt, sliding up between her legs, and Mary’s thighs parted. She ached. Not just her bottom, but her whole body, and his touch felt so good. It felt even better a moment later when his fingers probed an area she certainly had never allowed a man to touch. She barely touched it.
Thanks to Evie’s descriptions of her own experiences, Mary knew what he was doing. She moaned, shuddering as his fingers slid through the wet folds of her womanhood, parting them, stroking them. Her head tipped back, and his lips met hers, swallowing her whimpers, his tongue sliding into her mouth as his finger moved over an exquisitely sensitive spot.
The burn had spread from her bottom to her loins, turning far more pleasurable than painful. If anything, the slight sting still in her bottom made for an erotic contrast to her growing passion, heightening it further.
Her hands groping for purchase, she clung to the lapels of his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his finger moving to actually slide inside of her. The sensation of being invaded, filled was intense, making her lightheaded. The muscles of her body stretched to receive the digit, which thrust deeper, mimicking the movements of his tongue.
Ecstasy surged, and she cried out, a feeling of hot bliss spreading across her body in golden waves of rapture. She writhed on his lap, clutching him, thighs trapping his hand between her legs as her need reached its ascent, and she fell. His hand rubbed against her, circling, coaxing every last spasm of pleasure from her shocked senses.
It was glorious.
Left trembling in its wake, Mary panted for breath when Hartford finally lifted his lips, his eyes glowing gold, studying her intently. Whatever he saw in her face, he must have liked it, his lips curving in a smile of pure male satisfaction. A small part of her stirred, wanting to prick the balloon of smugness, but she had to admit, it was well deserved.
“Lovely,” he said, lowering his head to brush another light kiss over her lips, his finger withdrawing from her body. Mary watched, fascinated, as he lifted that same finger to his lips and licked the glossy cream coating it. He looked straight at her the whole time, completely unashamed. “And delicious.”
She blushed… and hated herself for it. Wanting to change the subject, she looked down at his lap. Although she could not see the bulge in his pants, in her current position, she could feel it pressing against her thigh.
“What… what now?” She knew he was still aroused. Several of Evie’s stories flitted through her mind, but Mary was no longer feeling very brave. With her arousal satisfied, her courage was no longer buoyed by the need that had been driving her… yet she still felt the impulse to satisfy his desires.
“Now?” He asked the question as if he was considering the answer. Cocking his head, he lifted one imperious brow. “Now, I send you back to your home, and tomorrow, I will come to Hood House and apply to your uncle for your hand.”
Mary froze, sure she had not just heard what she thought she had.
With his mind made up about his choice of bride, the sweet taste of her cream still on his tongue, it had not occurred to Rex the bride in question might disagree.
“What?” She moved so quickly, he was unable to stop her from tumbling off his lap. Springing to her feet, she brushed her hands over her skirts as if she could brush away everything they had just shared. Her hair was disheveled, cheeks pink, and doubtless, her bottom was sore, but that did not stop her. “No… I… no, that is not why I came here. I do not expect you to marry me.”
“Perhaps not, but you cannot believe there is any other route for us to take.” He got to his feet, slowly, aware of his cock pressing against the front of his pants. Interestingly, she was aware as well, although he would swear she was a virgin. Even if she was not, he still wanted her, but he was curious exactly how much knowledge she had. “You, a debutante with a good name and reputation, have been thoroughly compromised by me, a nobleman who is unmistakably searching for a bride.”
“But no one knows you have compromised me!”
“I know.” To his surprise, he was starting to feel a bit put out about her reaction. Surely, he was not that bad a catch—and if she had such an antipathy toward him, why had she allowed him to kiss, spank, and pleasure her? And… Did she just growl at him?
“You cannot possibly have offered marriage to every woman you have indulged with,” she replied tartly, crossing her arms over her chest. “And we did not even… you know.”
“I do know. Do you know?” He asked, more curious than anything else. She blushed again, her chin tilting up in a fashion he was becoming increasingly familiar with. Stubborn little petal.
“I know enough,” she said evasively, then frowned and eyed him. “Would that change things for you?”
“Hardly,” he drawled. “I am fairly certain you are a virgin.” Her deepening blush spread to her neck. “But the only thing that would change if you are not is I will pleasure both of us now before putting you in a carriage and sending you home, so I may call upon your uncle in the morning.” He took a step toward her, calling her bluff, and Miss Wilson stepped back.
“Fine!” She huffed, her chest rising and falling. “I am a virgin. More to the point, I am still a virgin and therefore, uncompromised. You have done nothing more than… rumple the package a bit. You did not open it.”
Hartford could not help himself, her analogy was too entertaining. He laughed, head falling back, hand on his chest laughter so contagious, after a moment, he heard her giggle. Grinning widely, he met her eyes again. Yes, she would do very well as his bride.
Passionate, adventurous, and with a sense of humor. He looked forward to learning all her mysteries, of which he was becoming very sure she had many. He even liked that she was not the type to draw attention to herself. Being the only applicant for her hand appealed, even if he had to shake his head at the blindness of his fellow men.
“So, you see?” she asked when her giggles subsided, holding her hands out in front of her pleadingly. “We do not need to marry.”
“Ah, but you misunderstand one thing,” he said, moving toward her. This time she did not step away, caught in his gaze. Rex grinned wickedly, taking her stubborn chin in his hand and holding it to keep her in place. “I had already intended to ask your uncle for permission to pay my address. Tonight has merely changed the timeline.”
Her eyes widened in pure shock, and Rex took the opportunity to steal a kiss. A searingly hot kiss so full of promise and pleasure, she slowly, reluctantly, began to return it, melting against him the longer he kissed her. When he finally lifted his head again, she narrowed her eyes at him.
“I am not going to marry a man who sends me home, then goes and indulges in… that… with another woman.”
Rex’s lips quirked in amusement. Already making demands, was she? Surprisingly, he chafed at the restriction. He already knew he had no interest in finding a playmate for the evening. Dallying with her had satisfied him, even if his own passion was still unfulfilled. He could certainly wait.
“I will not,” he reassured her. “Even before you arrived, I had already realized I had no interest. I was too busy desiring one particular woman, who, fortuitously, had already infiltrated my house. I was spending my time the same way I will after I send you home—looking for my friend, Lucas.”
Miss Wilson’s eyes widened.
“Oh… are you and he…” She sounded more fascinated than scandalized, and Rex laughed. Oh yes, Miss Wilson would fit in very nicely with the Society. Although the idea of her fitting in too well no longer appealed the way it once had. He pushed aside the sudden, strangely possessive urge that had wormed its way into his emotions.
“No, my interests are exclusively female,” he said. “But I need to have a word with him and perhaps watch over him to see he does not get into trouble. Trust me, I will have my hands full.”
Pressing her lips together, Miss Wilson stepped back, pulling herself out of his grip, and tossed her head.
“Very well. You may ask my uncle for permission to court me,” she said.
“Court, not marry?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Court.” She nodded firmly. “I will not marry a man I do not know.”
“Of course.” A smile curved his lips. “You will just let him… rumple your package.”
Narrowing her eyes again, she apparently decided retreat was the better part of valor. Turning on her heel, she swept out the door, and Rex ambled after her. He would have Cormack bring round the unmarked carriage to return her home, although sneaking in would be left entirely up to her.
Should he escort her? No, probably not. If she were caught, and a man was seen in the carriage with her, there would be no choice but for them to marry immediately. While he would be satisfied with such a conclusion, he was in no rush now that he had his bride in his sights.
Besides, finding out why she was reluctant to wed and seducing her into changing her mind was sure to be an enjoyable endeavor.
Mary
Alone in the darkness of the carriage, Mary rubbed her temples.
The Marquess of Hartford wanted to marry her? Her? And had decided so before tonight?
Did she want to marry him?
There were many reasons in favor of such a move. It would be a social coup for one, such as her. He was wealthy enough, she would never want for anything. It would mean she was properly settled and no longer in need of a third season. It would also provide her with plenty of opportunities to investigate the club and its members.
But…
He had promised not to indulge with another woman tonight—not that he would refrain forever.
Mary thought about the list of attributes her aunt and Arabella had encouraged her to put together. She had not thought to add faithfulness to it. She had not expected such a thing, if she was honest, despite the many examples of happy, faithful marriages she had seen among her cousins and their friends.
She had not expected it, but suddenly, she wanted it. Very much.