Five

Elizabeth felt her breath catching in her throat. Mr. Darcy stared at her, a forbidding look on his face that made her skin tingle.

“Miss Bennet,” he said sternly. “Come here.” She swallowed hard and then gave one slow, hesitant nod. She got to her feet. Her heart was in her throat with each step as she rounded the corner of the dining room table. The length of space between them seemed so short now that she had to walk towards him. Her delicate slippers made soft, shushing noises over the polished wooden floor as she approached him.

Finally her journey was complete and she stood at his left side, holding her breath so hard that she felt her lungs might burst.

“Elizabeth,” he said in a dark, low voice. He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor noisily. She started at the sound, and then shuddered when he patted his knees. “Lay across my lap.”

“Sir?” she asked, not quite believing what he was implying.

“Was I unclear? Lay across my lap,” his tone did not waver as she did so, and she felt the press of his knees along her ribs, the warmth of his body against hers. That did not comfort her however, neither did it comfort her when his hand stroked along her back.

“Elizabeth,” he said with a sigh, almost sounding regretful. His hand fisted in the fabric at her back and she felt her skirts being lifted up along her legs.

She whimpered when the hem of her dress hit her thighs, and then gasped when her entire rear was exposed.

“You are lucky you have the pantalettes to protect you,” he murmured. “I should think I will request you not to wear them in future, so that you might feel the full fury of your punishments.”

“Punishments?” she asked, but was spared any further time to speculate when his hand came down across her rear with a hard smack. “Sir!” she yelped out the honorific, the air rushing from her lungs. She jerked up, moving to get off of his lap, one of her hands going to rub at her offended rear.

“Lay across my lap,” he barked, pressing her down again. “Do as I say, Elizabeth, or the consequences will be dire indeed.” She gulped back her immediate, scathing response, and then cried out as he spanked her again.

The spot in which he had laid his hand, not once, but twice now, throbbed with heat, and she squirmed, attempting to move herself on his lap.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said, but he cut her off with another swat, this time to the soft curve where her rear met her thigh.

“This hurts me perhaps more than it does you,” he said curtly.

“I hardly think so,” she said with indignation, lifting her head to glare at him over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow, and then with a scowl, laid down three precise, sharp, exacting swats over her rear. She cried out with each one, turning her head back around so she would not have to see the expression on his face as he doled out her so-called punishment.

“I think five more, perhaps, will teach you that such outbursts are not to be borne in my household,” he said grimly, and she braced herself, tensing as his hand came down, again, and again. Heat blossomed across her back-side, and she found herself pushing up on her toes, arching into the blows, much to her astonishment. By the time he was half-way through her punishment, her cheeks were fully flushed both above and below, and her cry at the last strike was not altogether that pained.

No. No. She could not think of such a thing… that she might be deriving a pleasure from her punishment? No. It was not even possible.

Mr. Darcy’s hand came down again, and she found herself whimpering as it did. He paused, his hand wrapped around the curve of her rear.

“Miss Bennet?” he inquired, a very formal thing for such an informal and humiliating moment. She shivered.

“Yes, Sir?” her voice was broken tot her own ears, and he must have been startled by the sound of it for he gently stroked her stinging flesh through her pantalettes.

“Have I…” he hesitated, and then cleared his throat. His hand lifted from her again, and began raining down on her, again, and again. However his blows were lighter this time, less sting in them, and more of that unusual glowing, growing pleasure came from the strikes. Her cries turned breathy, and she found her hips pressing down into his lap, the need she had felt earlier before her bath roaring back up again. She was becoming consumed by her own passions, and she clung to him, desperate for something to anchor her.

The last smack rang out in the room along with a hearty moan that she realized had come from her mouth. She clapped a hand over her lips and whimpered at the sound. She was so wanton, so debauched. She felt at once ashamed of her behavior, but also curiously… liberated. It was freeing, to be in Mr. Darcy’s arms, at his mercy, and for him to be encouraging such passions and expressions from her. Never had she been more trapped and more free at the same time.

Mr. Darcy’s hand was smoothing over her rear gently, a wordless apology for the pain that he had inflicted upon her.

“Have you learnt the lesson I endeavored to teach you?” he asked, his voice still low and soft. She licked her dry lips.

“I… I was wrong to speak of my compensation,” she replied quietly. He petted at the small of her back, his hand soothing.

“You were wrong to think that you are here for only my enjoyment, Elizabeth. I had hopes that this would be for your pleasure as well,” the way the word pleasure rolled off of his tongue caused a spate of shivers to run up her back. He noticed, of course, because she was beginning to think that very little escaped Mr. Darcy’s acute attention.

“My… pleasure?”

His hand curved further around her rear, and she felt the subtle flutter of him parting her pantalettes. She gasped when his fingers dipped between her thighs. He made a low, groaning sound.

“Yes, absolutely. Your pleasure is my goal, and I see I can count myself successful in that measure. You are dripping with the honey of your passions, my pet.”

Elizabeth felt her face burn and then Mr. Darcy righted her, helping her to stand on shaky legs. Her skirts fell around her ankles once more.

“I think, perhaps, that today’s education is complete,” Mr. Darcy said, and Elizabeth felt a cool wave of shock descend upon her. He was… finished with her for the day? The throbbing need between her thighs made her bite her lip. He stood up and took her hand gently in his. “I will escort you to your room, and then tomorrow, we will take a promenade in the local park. You must rest, however. It has been quite the day for you.”

He bent to place a kiss on one of her hands and she shivered.

“Are you sure, Mr. Darcy?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and then chuckled.

“Sweet Elizabeth, I am positive were I to take you to my chambers now, you would not rest until dawn broke. Now, you will retire for the evening and so will I.” They walked, as he spoke, up the stairs and as promised, he left her at her door with another soft kiss on the back of her hand.

She resigned herself to retreat, reflect, and try to make some sense of the complicated feelings Mr. Darcy was eliciting from her.

Read further in the adventures of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth in the next novella in this serial:

Defying Mr. Darcy

Available for pre-order now!