Lydia's Penance, page 14
“I came to dress you for dinner, Your Grace,” Mary said cheerfully, coming in and going straight to the wardrobe. When she opened it, Lydia could see that Mary had already had a busy afternoon, probably while Lydia was with Isaac, hanging all of Lydia’s dresses. “A few of these still need to be pressed, but I thought perhaps the emerald or the lilac?”
“The lilac,” Lydia said immediately. As much as she liked the emerald crepe, she knew that lilac set off her hair and eyes to perfection. It was also a softer color, and Lydia wanted to be soft tonight. She didn’t want to feel armored or aggressive. Not that her sartorial choices made up for keeping secrets from her husband, but somehow it made her feel differently internally.
Thankful for the lace-trimmed drawers which hid the flaming cheeks of her bottom, Lydia allowed Mary to dress her. She sat down gingerly at the vanity so Mary could fix her hair, biting her lip as her weight came down on her bottom, no matter how gently. The cushion on the chair helped, but it was still not comfortable in the least.
The discomfort made her press her thighs together. She didn’t know why her body reacted in this manner, but she did find that her growing arousal helped mitigate some of the harsher after effects of the spanking. So as Mary curled and pinned her hair, Lydia allowed herself to quietly reflect on how it felt to kneel before her husband and take his cock in her mouth. Such memories served to rouse her further and made the soreness in her backside feel more arousing than distressing.
When Mary finished her hair, Lydia chose a length of smoky grey pearls to wear, just in time to go down to dinner.
She felt unaccountably nervous descending the staircase, especially when she saw Isaac waiting for her at the bottom. Tucked away in her room it was easy to distract herself from reality; seeing him, dressed formally for dinner (although, like herself, not quite as formally as they would be in London), made her uneasiness rise. Would he still be angry? Would things be awkward between them now?
To her relief, he stepped up to take her hand and help her down the last step, his dark eyes lingering on the creamy swells of her bosom as they rose above the gold-edged lace bordering her neckline. “You look lovely, my dear.”
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly with pleasure at the compliment.
As he escorted her to the dining room, he pointed out some of the pieces of interest along the way - a Ming vase gifted to his grandfather for services to the crown; a painting of his great-grandmother, brought all the way from Greece by his grandmother; a series of watercolors by his mother and Arabella, depicting the landscape of the Chase. There was both pride and sadness in his voice as he spoke of his family, which Lydia - an orphan herself - understood intimately. It occurred to her they actually had quite a bit in common with their families; they both were without parents or grandparents in their lives (she no longer counted her stepfather as such) and they both adored their siblings.
Not that Isaac said he did, but it came through in the fondness of his voice, even when he was pointing out a carpet which had been replaced five times during his childhood due to various antics by Benedict and Arabella - and once by an unfortunately sick puppy Benedict had snuck into the house. Even when Isaac was shaking his head and sighing over their escapades his affection was unmistakable.
To Lydia’s consternation and relief, a very thick and fluffy cushion adorned the seat Isaac led her to. She blushed hotly, giving him a glance. He just smiled.
“It’s Arabella’s when she needs it,” he said simply. Lydia wanted to groan. As much as she appreciated being able to sit down at least somewhat comfortably, it was embarrassing to realize the staff probably knew exactly what had happened this afternoon. On the other hand, it sounded as though they were used to the lady of the house occasionally requiring a soft seat. Unlike the thinner cushion in her room, this cushion actually did quite a bit to cradle her sore derriere.
Isaac had seated them together, rather than far apart at opposite ends of the long table, for which she was also grateful. Although this was obviously the smaller, family dining room, she still didn’t want to be seated ten places away from him. It would make for a lonely meal, and Lydia was used to a more informal dining experience anyway.
As he sat down, her husband gave her a considering look.
“So, my dear, tell me about your home,” he said as the first course was brought in.
The footman ladled soup into her bowl, a nice, light consommé, as Lydia almost laughed at the question. She understood what he was truly asking, but she also knew it would be entirely too easy to answer his question without actually answering his question.
“Well, the house could fit into one wing of this one,” she responded, teasingly, as she began to butter the soft roll the footman had delivered along with her soup. Isaac’s mouth twitched, and he shrugged a haughty, ducal shoulder, unapologetic for the size of his holding. “Somersham is rather lovely though. My mother had an absolute zeal for gardening, especially roses, and she grew all sorts of colors and sizes. I used to help her pollinate the ones she wanted to crossbreed, and some of them turned out quite stunning.”
Over dinner Lydia happily described the house, her mother’s gardens, and the nearby township and some of the more colorful characters residing there. She even drew up some of the happy memories she had of her stepfather, before her mother passed, when he behaved like a true father to her. Which only made the sting of his betrayal, which had lessened over the months as she’d grown accustomed to the new state of affairs, renew as she remembered what had been.
She moved off that topic as quickly as she could and turned it around on him, asking more about his life at the Chase. Now that she’d seen the house, and had a sense of its history from the furnishings and decorations, she could ask much more pointed questions.
All in all, it was a very enjoyable dinner as long as she didn’t shift around too much on her poor bottom.
Talking with his wife was quite frustrating.
Although he’d known she wouldn’t rise to the bait, he wished she would be more forthcoming. A few times, a shadow had flickered over her face, indicating that what she was speaking of sparked some memory which made her unhappy, but was it general unhappiness? Was it remembering the loss of her mother? Or was it whatever had motivated her to go to such extremes to escape returning to her childhood home? No definitive answer was revealed.
He supposed it was only in his nature to hope she’d changed her mind in the short period of time since her spanking. From the way she kept fidgeting and blushing, despite the soft cushion he’d provided for her, he knew she was quite uncomfortable. Which, in turn, made him uncomfortable as he remembered how hot and red her ass was when he’d finished with it, and how wet she’d been, and how eager her mouth had been...
Before dinner he’d finally focused enough to look through one of the books he’d set aside and he’d been somewhat reassured by what he’d found. Despite being the gentler sex, a woman’s bottom could take quite a bit of punishment. In fact, going by the descriptions written, he’d barely stepped a toe in the depths to which discipline could go. Which wasn’t surprising, as he’d skipped those chapters for a reason after realizing they were describing lengths he’d never been interested in for erotic purposes, neither had he needed to go to them for his sister’s discipline.
For Arabella, a simple spanking was more than enough to get her attention. He’d never spanked her as long or as hard as he’d spanked Lydia today, not even the time he’d used the paddle after she’d helped Gabrielle Astley, now Mrs. Gabrielle Hood, attempt an elopement with a particularly unsuitable suitor. Arabella, unlike Lydia, shrieked and cried from the very first swat; he’d never given her more than twenty, at the end of which she was always sobbing quite unabashedly and would immediately shape up. At least, for a few days.
He wondered if Lydia’s inadvertent arousal helped her to cope with the pain of being spanked. It made sense, in a way, as he was quite familiar with the ways pain and arousal could mingle. After his experiences with his sister, which were purely disciplinary, it had been unexpected.
Once they’d finished their dinner Isaac showed Lydia the way to the patio in the back of the house overlooking the gardens. There was a small rose garden, although it sounded as though she’d grown up with a garden mostly made of roses, and the mixed scent of flowers wafted up in the summer’s air. The lights from the house only partially lit the gardens; off in the distance, the moon was rising and lighting some of the fields and landscape, and Isaac looked out proudly over it all.
“It’s so beautiful here,” Lydia murmured, her voice soft and quietly happy.
Isaac tilted his head towards her, watching her expression in the moonlight, the stars reflecting like diamonds in her grey eyes. She looked every inch the lady he’d always imagined would fill the position of his duchess. If she weren’t keeping secrets, she would be perfect.
Raising his hand, he trailed his fingers through the curls at the nape of her neck, making her shiver. She turned towards him, lips slightly parted, eyes questioning.
Lowering his head, he kissed her. Gently but firmly, tenderly taking command of her mouth. To his pleasure, she responded immediately, parting her lips further and meeting his tongue with her own. Their afternoon activities had not diminished the passion between them or her desire for him. Isaac was quite sure his secretive little bride was inclined towards submission in the bedroom, which suited him perfectly. Although the idea of keeping both a wife and a mistress had never appealed, Isaac had never completely dismissed the thought either. He’d always supposed it would depend on his wife and how well they suited each other.
With Lydia, he was quite certain he would not need look outside his marriage for satisfaction, a thought which pleased him.
She pressed up against him, her softness curving against his hardness, her hands pressing against his chest as he drew her into him. Folding her in his arms, he let his hands slide down her back, one of them pressing into the small of her back while the other wandered further down. Her soft gasp against his lips and the stiffening of her body when he gently cupped her bottom made him groan. He wasn’t sure whether or not he imagined the heat emanating through the folds of her gown.
Kissing her hungrily, he carefully cupped and squeezed her bottom, holding her tight against him so he could savor every small wriggle, every little whimper, and every clutch of her fingers against his chest. Yet she didn’t protest, didn’t try to pull away. If anything, she pressed more fully into him, rubbing her front against his, squirming delightfully as his cock was cradled by her softness.
With a low moan, he reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, all too aware of the light filtering from the house onto the patio. Exhibitionism was not one of his interests.
“Come, my dear,” he said, one arm tight about her waist, the other taking hold of her hand. “Let us retire.”
Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes alight with arousal, cheeks flushed becomingly. As she looked up at him, almost adoringly, Isaac found himself smiling back down at her in a similar manner. Keeping his walls firmly in place, until she’d offered up her secrets, was becoming more difficult than he’d anticipated. She was just otherwise so giving, so complacent, so delightfully submissive.
If his cock had its way, Isaac wouldn’t ever need to divest her of her secrets at all. Unfortunately, his mind couldn’t give up so easily.
Her husband’s kisses were enough to make a woman’s knees weak.
When they’d reached her bedroom, he’d pulled her back into his arms, sliding his fingers into her hair in such an aggressive manner that the pins holding it in place went scattering. Mary would have a job tomorrow, locating all of them, Lydia thought, before Isaac’s forceful kiss scattered her thoughts the same way he had her pins.
Unlike on the balcony, he was now kissing with intent - and that intent was clear. Lydia moaned as his hands slid through her hair and then down over her body, pulling at the laces on her dress. She could feel the fabric loosening and then sliding as the laces pulled free, and the dress spilled down her body to puddle about their feet. Between kisses, which he was now trailing down her throat, Isaac shucked off his jacket and then turned his attention to her corset.
Lydia moaned as he freed her breasts and immediately focused on them with his hands and lips. The heavy mounds felt swollen at his touch, little arcs of pleasure fizzing through her as he kissed the pale flesh before zeroing in on the little, pink peaks. When he latched on, suckling a tiny nub the way she had his cock, Lydia’s back arched as her breasts thrust forward, and now it was her turn to send her fingers sliding into his dark hair.
She looked down, heavily aroused to see him moving his mouth over her breasts. His hands alternated between holding her waist and caressing her breasts in turn, attending whichever soft mound his lips were neglecting. The long, tanned fingers contrasted so starkly to her creamy skin, making her shudder as she watched him stroke and squeeze her aching flesh. Little whimpers escaped her throat - not of pain, but because of the needy ache growing more insistent between her legs.
Their current position had him bent over her, which meant he was no longer pressed against her mons, and she was aching with the need for some kind of contact. Her thighs pressed together, the wet lips of her pussy sliding against each other, teasing her... but it wasn’t enough.
“Please... Isaac...” she whispered, her body undulating as he sucked particularly hard on her nipple, sending a flash of needy pleasure straight through her core.
“Yes, my dear?” he asked, lifting his head up, his eyes flashing wickedly. Although she knew his reputation as an honorable man, and knew of his honor firsthand, in this moment, he looked very much like a wicked rake, and her body pulsed in response to that hungry, lascivious look.
“More,” she pleaded, clinging to him, going up on her toes to press herself against him. His hard length rubbed against the front of her mound, and she moaned. “I want to fuck you.”
The expression of shock on his face, followed by rumbling laughter, confused her. After all, that was the term used most often in her stepfather’s books. Of course, she knew it was also called the marital act and the sex act, but when one of the characters had expressed their desire, it was usually in the manner she’d just used.
“Oh, my dear,” he said, his voice threaded through with amusement as he pulled her shift free from her body, unlacing the front of her drawers and letting them drop to the ground. It suddenly occurred to her that he’d removed far more of her clothes than he had his own. “If that’s what you want, then what kind of gentleman would I be to deny you?”
She squealed, shuddering as he picked her up and dropped her on the bed. But she wasn’t able to roll onto her side or stomach and off of her suddenly throbbing backside, because Isaac’s hands were already there, pulling her to the edge of the bed. He’d wedged himself between her thighs, draping them over his shoulders, and Lydia squeaked, reaching down to cover herself as she realized exactly how exposed she was. There was something inherently embarrassing about knowing his gaze was only inches away from her most private parts.
But he wasn’t going to be denied.
“Hands away,” he ordered her, his tone one of command, as he tapped the backs of her hands with his fingers. “Put them above your head, I want to look at you.”
Blushing furiously and trying not to squirm too much as her bottom pressed uncomfortably against the mattress, Lydia raised her hands above her head. She glanced down to see him, gaze arrested, examining her wet slit quite closely, and she moaned with embarrassment and closed her eyes.
A small shriek escaped her lips when he suddenly leaned forward and kissed her there. She’d known what he was about, of course, but she hadn’t realized how vulnerable it would make her feel, or how good. His wicked tongue was parting her lips, tasting her innermost flesh, and teasing the most sensitive parts of her. Moaning, Lydia squirmed against his mouth as he sucked on her tender flesh.
His hands slid up her belly to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them as he feasted on her quim, making her cry out at the incredible mix of sensations sizzling through her. The discomfort of her roasted cheeks, resting against the mattress, was like an erotic counterpoint to the cacophony of pleasure pooling in her core. She struggled to keep her hands in place above her head, not wanting to disobey him on so simple a command, and finding it more and more difficult as he wrung the most intense sensations from the most sensitive portions of her anatomy.
A sharp pinch to her nipples made her arch, pressing her buttocks more firmly into the mattress, and the pain from both areas seemed to arch through her as well, merging in her heated core with the rising ecstasy. Lydia sobbed as his fingers plucked and twisted at her nipples, his firm licks becoming more insistent and focused on the little button of pleasure at the apex of her lips. When he suckled that small nub between his lips, the way he had her nipples, she screamed as rapture exploded inside of her.
With every suck of his mouth, a new wave of ecstasy crashed through her, carrying her higher and higher into a vortex of exquisite pleasure. The hard pinching of her nipples and the discomfort of her squirming bottom lent that pleasure a hard edge that only made the euphoric explosions feel even more intense. Lydia sobbed and writhed, no longer able to hold her hands above her head, they came to rest on Isaac’s head, her fingers tangling in his hair as she rode out her climax, his tongue lapping at her creaming slit.
Her body felt utterly limp as Isaac pulled away from her. Limp and throbbing. Her nipples felt swollen from the harsh treatment; they were aching and throbbing from it. The sensitive skin of her bottom reminded her that she’d been thoroughly spanked that afternoon. Her quim was throbbing pleasantly from the pleasure he’d just inflicted on her.
When he gently turned her over, so that her upper body was supported by the bed and her legs were hanging down until her feet touched the floor, she didn’t have the energy or strength to protest. Her mind obligingly sought and found the matching picture from her stepfather’s books. From behind, she could feel Isaac’s cock sliding up and down the length of her wet slit, lubricating his broad head. Gentle hands rested on her bottom cheeks and then, less gently, squeezed, and Lydia moaned. A shudder wracked her.
