Lydia's Penance, page 16
The manner in which he would suddenly close himself off was much more effective at making her want to confide in him than the spanking had been... but she kept her mouth shut. Worried over it. Wondered if she should speak out.
But she hadn’t had time to thoroughly go through his library. She hadn’t had time to seek out any books of law, especially when it came to a father’s rights to his daughter. She hadn’t had time to research whether or not there was truly any way Isaac could help her and Amy.
It was too risky to confide in him without knowing if he could even help (and hoping he would be willing), or if she would be betraying her sister for no reason at all.
So the tense undercurrents made dinner conversation stilted. Lydia requested that after dinner they adjourn to the library, asking if he had any particular books on law. With a small smile, Isaac told her that his grandfather and father had amassed books on nearly everything to do with England. They’d both been avid readers with a great love for their country.
Having seen the size and breadth of the library, Lydia could believe that. She hadn’t had time to search through it yet, or get a sense of the collections, but she’d nearly had a fit of vapors when Mrs. Huffington had led her in. The room was floor to ceiling books, the largest collection she’d seen in person. Which only made sense as this was the largest house she’d ever seen, but still, a large house hadn’t necessarily meant a large library. She was thrilled that here, it did.
Since she couldn’t tell him specifically what she was looking for, she just pretended a general interest in law... and then nearly wept when he showed her the two bookcases filled with books about laws in England. Some books were very general, some were very specific. One title indicated it was focused entirely on the laws governing the traffic of carriages through the streets.
Isaac left her to it, wandering to an entirely different part of the library, as Lydia sighed and applied herself to finding what she was looking for... wondering, all the time, what it would even be called.
Laws regarding a father’s dominion over his daughter?
Laws regarding the rights of women? (Or lack thereof, thought Lydia, a little bitterly.)
When Isaac returned to fetch her back to her room, she still hadn’t found what she was looking for, although she’d picked out several general books about the laws of England, deciding she would give them a closer look. Perhaps the general books would help lead her to what she was looking for. And she would return to the library to look at more books, of course.
That night Isaac was rougher with her than usual. His fingers harder as they pinched and tugged at her nipples, his teeth scraping over her skin as he kissed and sucked on her sensitive parts. More demanding than usual, he had her put her hands above her head and hold onto the headboard, ordering her not to move. Then he’d tormented her, with lips and fingers, until she was begging him to let her climax. He’d told her to beg to be fucked, his fingers roughly thrusting in and out of her quim, but stopping just before she came, every time. Practically sobbing in need, Lydia obeyed, begging him to fuck her.
He’d practically folded her in half, his hands pressing her wrists down into the mattress, as he’d forcefully thrust into her body. Lydia screamed with ecstasy, sobbing and writhing, unable to squirm away from his rampant cock as he pierced her with it again and again, until the ecstasy became painful in its intensity. Her clitoris felt swollen to three times its normal size as he forced her to completion again and again.
When he finally filled her with his cream and removed his weight from her body, her ankles finally drifting down from around her ears, she felt nearly dizzy with the pleasure. Dizzy and strangely emotionally vulnerable. For the first time, when he left her bed and closed the door behind him, she cried.
When Monday finally came, Isaac felt it like a great relief.
Sunday had been difficult. Not only had the distance between himself and Lydia felt greater than ever, but his growing impatience had set his teeth on edge. As if Father Walsh somehow knew, the entire sermon yesterday had been on the Christian virtue of patience. Which, contrarily, had only made Isaac’s impatience feel worse.
He’d felt it all through the service. He’d felt it as he’d introduced Lydia to their neighbors. He’d felt it and worse when Squire Brown’s eldest son, William, had the ill-advised temerity to go completely calf-eyed at Lydia. Not that he considered William anything of a threat. Just turned twenty-three, he might be closer to Lydia’s age than Isaac was, but she was a very mature twenty. Besides, next to Isaac, William was like an unfinished sapling. But Isaac still didn’t like the sapling ogling his wife.
Isaac had loomed at Lydia’s side, acting just a tad dog in the manger. Fortunately, Squire Brown noticed and immediately pulled his less perceptive offspring away. The look Isaac received from the Squire was both apologetic and confused. Sighing inwardly, Isaac had wondered whether his behavior would contribute to the rumors of a love match or be to their detriment.
The necessary socializing after services had taken up a great deal more time than usual. Everyone wanted to meet his duchess, and then, of course, her presence engendered new conversations. Invitations to various country gatherings and dinners, which she put off with an apology and a smile, explaining they were keeping to themselves until Arabella and Benedict returned home. Quite correctly, she also informed her neighbors to look for her invitation to a ball in just under a month, celebrating her and Isaac’s marriage. Which, of course, led to further conversation.
It was late afternoon by the time they finally returned home, and then Lydia had wanted to spend more time in the library. Isaac hadn’t minded. He was hoping to learn something from her reading choices, as it was obvious to him that her interest in law had some significance. He didn’t for one second believe she had no ulterior motive to that specific subject, no matter what he chose to let her believe.
Unfortunately, so far, she hadn’t removed any but the most general books from the library. Hardly helpful.
She didn’t today either, as they’d only had about an hour at home before it was time for her to dress for dinner. After dinner, he’d been too impatient, too exercised by his own tensions, to apply himself meekly to some evening activity.
Instead, he’d taken her straight up to her room where he’d introduced her to the fun to pleasuring each other with their mouths simultaneously. Although he’d not yet broached any of his more exotic desires, especially the ones which involved either tying her down or some kind of erotic pain, he was enjoying indulging in more innocent activities with her for now. Especially as she applied herself with such enthusiasm. It was becoming harder and harder to actually leave her bed at the end of those activities, but he persevered.
Leaving her bed, he’d felt impatient all over again, because he’d known tomorrow his wait would finally be over.
Today, it was.
A sense of relief suffused him. She’d had time to think things over. Time to get to know him a bit better. Time to recover from her last spanking. Although, if she didn’t answer him today, Isaac already knew her spanking was going to be more severe than last time. While he wouldn’t harm her, he now felt sure she could take quite a bit more punishment than he’d delivered last time.
Sitting at his desk, he looked down at the paddle sitting in front of him. It had never been used harshly before, as far as Isaac knew. It was a broad paddle, about a foot long and half a foot wide, and had been applied to his, his brother’s, and his sister’s backsides at one point or another. But never too hard. Truthfully, it had rarely ever been needed at all. The last time Isaac had felt its sting, he’d taken fifteen blows to his fourteen-year old backside for losing Arabella in the woods. He and Benedict had been annoyed with their annoying, four-year-old sister always following them around, and Isaac had convinced Benedict that if Arabella couldn’t see them, she’d give up following them and go back to the manor.
They’d figured wrong.
The disappointment in his parents’ eyes, Arabella’s hysterical tears on her dirty face when they’d finally found her, and his overwhelming guilt had stung and lingered far longer than the soreness from the paddle. Even then, his father hadn’t been able to find it in him to swing the paddle very hard. But then, he hadn’t needed to either. Isaac and Benedict had both already been filled with remorse; they hadn’t even protested their punishment, which was ten more swats than they’d ever received before.
Remembering the incident, Isaac had to wonder - was Lydia’s crime of secrecy truly worse?
The problem, he realized, was that he didn’t know. She was keeping secrets for a reason, but without knowing the reason, he couldn’t protect either of them against whatever it was she feared, or any unintended consequences of her secret. Like when he was younger, he hadn’t meant for Arabella to become lost. He hadn’t meant for her to be scared, alone, and lost, but she had been anyway, for no other reason than they’d wanted to spend some time being more reckless in the woods than they could when she was around. She’d always been trying to keep up with them, and he’d been entirely too focused on his own wants and needs, too self-involved, and thought everything would be just fine. That was the last time he’d been so foolishly reckless.
Stroking his fingers over the handle of the paddle, Isaac knew he would need to gird up and be quite severe with Lydia if it became necessary. He couldn’t control what he didn’t know. Therefore, she needed to tell him. The books he’d researched had assuaged some of his doubts about punishing her more harshly, as had her responses to the two prior spankings. It weighed on him, but he kept reassuring himself she had not been harmed.
When the door to his study opened, he looked up. Lydia entered, a questioning look on her face. They’d spent the morning apart as he’d prepared, wanting to be sure he was ready to do what was necessary... wanting to gird himself for whatever revelations may or may not come about and the consequences if they did not.
Dressed in a pearl-grey morning gown, which matched her eyes to perfection, her honey-blonde hair neatly pinned atop her head, she looked quite softly, appealingly, feminine. Not at all like the kind of woman who would possess dangerous secrets. But, whatever her secret was, it was strong enough for her to strenuously resist confiding it.
“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice faltering just a bit as she closed the door behind her. The small smile on her face faded, her expression becoming tinged with anxiety. “You wished to see me?”
Isaac beckoned her forward, not answering immediately. Her anxiety heightened, her steps hesitant as she moved towards him. Once she was closer, the desk between them, he put his hand on the paddle, and her eyes dropped to it and her gaze locked. The anxiety on her face was now looking more like trepidation. Good.
“When we spoke last week of why you chose to marry me in such a manner, I informed you I would be asking again,” he said, his fingers tapping gently against the paddle handle for just a moment. “I am doing so now. Lydia, why did you drug me and trap me into marriage?”
He deliberately phrased the question to have the most impact, to appeal directly to her guilt. The question caused her face to go so pale it was almost white, and she licked her lips nervously, gaze still trained on the paddle. Isaac watched her, let her use the quiet moment to think, and waited on her answer.
Bloody... stupid... damnation... she didn’t know enough foul words to describe how she felt. It was truly to a lady’s detriment that foul language wasn’t provided to express herself, because sometimes a lady felt truly foul. Not that she would say the words out loud, but it would be a relief to at least be able to think them. Maybe say them in private, later.
Lydia let out a long breath, hating herself for what she knew her answer had to be.
“I can’t tell you.” So far she’d found nothing to counter or even assist with a man’s dominion over his family. A husband could demand a wife be returned to him, even if she ran away and was residing in her former family’s house. Of course, some women did anyway and were successful, because her family was powerful enough that her husband didn’t want to use the law to force their hand - but the fact was, he could. So too could a father hold dominion over his daughters. The one point of hope she could find was that a daughter was just as able to escape her father’s house once she was of age... unfortunately, Amy was only seventeen. She would likely be married before she turned twenty-one anyway. Escaping her father’s house before then, without his permission, would only result in Amy being summarily returned and possible charges being brought up against Isaac and Lydia.
If Amy would even believe escape was necessary. After all, the Earl had hid the worst of his excesses from her. Lydia had certainly not wanted to pull the drapes from her eyes and expose his lechery to Amy, or - worse - possibly put Amy in danger as well.
Even if Lydia somehow managed to convince her, and convince Isaac to help, what then? The law was actually on the Earl’s side. In fact, he could even marry Amy off to someone by proxy, without her presence or signature! It was no true protection at all. The Earl would have to find someone who didn’t mind currying a duke’s disfavor, but there were some who wouldn’t care... some who might even enjoy it. After all, it would be an incredible scandal - far more scandalous than trapping a duke into marriage - for a duke to harbor a fugitive and then have charges brought against him.
The Earl had already shown his lack of caring; he might even use the threat of such scandal to try and blackmail Isaac directly, rather than just blackmailing Lydia!
The little that Lydia had managed to research so far had only dashed her hopes. She would keep searching, but at the moment, she felt farther away from her goals than ever. To protect Amy, and now to protect Isaac as well, she would have to keep her secrets.
Her husband’s face hardened, and her heart sank. She truly did not enjoy denying him. Blunt fingers tapped against the paddle again, and she swore she felt her bottom twitch in unhappy anticipation.
“Is that the only answer you have for me today?”
Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Lydia nodded. His dark eyes flashed his displeasure, the corners of his mouth turning down into a real frown. The wrinkle on his forehead deepened. Her chest ached in response.
“Come, lay yourself over my lap.”
She went willingly, without protest, already longing for the pain that she knew would bring a kind of clean relief with it. Her penance for her secrets. Honestly, if he didn’t spank her, she didn’t know how she would deal with the guilt and misery welling inside of her right now. Bottling it up would be damaging... when she spanked her, she already knew it would all come boiling out of her with tears, and yells, and a terribly sore bottom which would ache and, somehow, make her feel better at the same time.
Strong thighs under her stomach. There was no hardness pressing into her side. Lydia swallowed again, missing it. Wanting it. Because without that hardness, she felt even more guilty. Hands pulled up her skirts, pushed down her drawers, baring her bottom.
The after effects of her last spanking had faded entirely. There were no lingering pangs, no residual soreness. His hands smoothed over all that bare flesh, and her breath caught as her body responded with immediate arousal. It didn’t matter her position or her knowledge what was about to happen; that was her reaction to his touch.
“A count of twenty, and then I will ask you again. If you do not answer me then, it will be another twenty, with the paddle.”
SMACK!
Her breath caught in surprise, jerking against his lap.
SMACK!
This time she knew it was coming, and she took the blow without as much of a reaction. It hurt, stung, but she wasn’t surprised by the swat.
SMACK!
The third swat landed just below the first.
SMACK!
The fourth, just below the second.
SMACK!
A decisive blow to her sit-spot had her sucking air in through her teeth. All five spots smarted, but weren’t terrible yet.
SMACK!
Her other sit spot.
SMACK!
Lydia gasped as his hand returned to the very first spot his hand had landed.
SMACK!
It quickly became clear that he was spanking her, very precisely, in six distinct spots. Only those six spots. From right in the middle to her cheek, to just below that spot, to her sit spot, back and forth on each cheek.
The repetition burned and she found herself stifling gasps and little cries of pain much sooner than she had the last spanking, when he’d landed the swats all over her upturned bottom. The focus of his attentions made each smack intensify the pain in an almost exponential manner. She was counting them in her head, and by eighteen tears were already dripping down her cheeks, her legs were occasionally giving an involuntary kick, and she was whimpering nearly non-stop.
The last two, rather than returning to the middle of her cheeks, instead repeated on her sensitive sit spots, where her thighs met her bottom, and Lydia cried out. Her legs kicked, and Isaac’s leg immediately wrapped around them, holding her firmly in place. When he placed his hand on her bottom, she could feel the heat of his palm - uncomfortably hot against her sensitive flesh, warm against the cooler, creamier parts of her cheek where his hand hadn’t actually landed.
“Last chance before the paddle, my dear,” he said, his voice coaxing. Seductive. Fingers trailed over her pussy, which was already wet. Lydia choked back a sob. Not just because she knew this was going to hurt, but because she didn’t want to deny him.
But she had no choice.
“I can’t.”
When she felt him lean forward, she had to choke back another cry, because she knew why he was leaning forward. Knew what he was reaching for.
This was going to hurt.
Her only consolation was the growing press of Isaac’s cock on her side, rubbing against her soft belly.
