Lydia's Penance, page 19
Thinking of the Countess also brought Spencer to his thoughts, who seemed to prove Isaac’s theory wrong. Spencer was the eldest son, but he was a rake, a rogue, a tease, and flirt. Both he and the Countess were eccentrics, accepted by Society, but not always following the proper societal rules. Still, they both knew when to toe the line, something Arabella seemed to struggle with.
When dinner was finished, Arabella and Lydia relocated to the drawing room, leaving him and Benedict to their port and conversation.
“So.” Benedict said, raising his eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. “Spanking your poor bride already?”
Isaac nearly choked on his port. Leaning over, Benedict clapped him on the back, his eyes dancing with amusement. Glaring between sputtering coughs, Isaac wrestled back control over himself.
“That’s not really any of your business,” he retorted, once he was able to speak again.
“I’m not blind,” Benedict responded mildly, glancing down at the seat between them where Lydia’s fluffy cushion was still resting. “You’re just lucky Arabella was on the other side of the table. And is both self-involved and innocent enough not to notice the way Lydia was moving.”
“She trapped me into marriage. You didn’t really think we’d settle in without some issues, did you?” Isaac asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I just didn’t quite see you joining the ranks of Spencer, Hood, and Hyde, etc.” Benedict said with a wave of his hand, indicating their peers whom they knew spanked their wives. “Thought you would think it improper. Arabella’s one thing, as she acts a child sometimes, but Lydia isn’t like that.”
“You’d be surprised what I think sometimes,” Isaac murmured. Despite how close he and Benedict were, they’d never conversed about Isaac’s particular bedchamber proclivities. He’d always felt such things were to be kept private. Of course, the group of men they’d been introduced to when Arabella had befriend Gabrielle, all of whom spanked their wives, were quite open with each other and managed to do so without being disrespectful of the ladies in question. Which was probably why Isaac had felt so immediately comfortable with them, even if he chose to keep his own mouth shut. After all, they were all speaking of wives and, mostly, of discipline, whereas his experiences had been completely outside of matrimony and had had nothing to do with discipline.
Now, however, he’d have quite a bit in common with them. He eyed his brother and wondered if Benedict had anything in common with them as well.
“Do you find such discipline improper?” he asked, curious. This was a topic he and his brother had never touched on before.
Benedict cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Not particularly, as long as the lady’s dignity outside of the discipline is maintained. Although, I will say, I’d much rather indulge in some amorous play than in discipline.”
“I believe most would.”
“Well, Lord and Lady Spencer...”
“Are quite eccentric. In more ways than one.”
Both of them laughed and the conversation wound around to their more usual topics. Benedict wanted to know how the estate was doing - he’d always been interested in the business aspects and usually oversaw that part of the family operation. He spent far more time in London than Isaac did because of those interests, a task Isaac had been and still was happy to hand over to him.
They didn’t linger over their port for too long, however, as Isaac was eager to get back to his bride. After overhearing her conversation with Arabella this afternoon, he’d found himself feeling better about Lydia in general... which meant he no longer felt the need to fight his desire to be in her company. He didn’t feel quite as resentful over enjoying her company. Even if she was keeping secrets from him, he now felt as though he could trust her more. He might not know why she was keeping secrets from him, but he felt surer in her character and who she was as a person. A person he rather liked.
Something had changed.
She didn’t know why, she only knew it had. At first, she’d thought Isaac’s change in demeanor was due to the arrival of his siblings; dissembling, on his part, to cover up the tension. She’d been all too willing to go along with him, because the dissipation of tension had been such a relief.
It wasn’t until after they’d said their good nights to his brother and sister, and returned to her rooms she realized the reality of the change. Not until he’d started kissing her and it had been... different. She wasn’t sure she could describe how, but the difference was discernible... notable even.
His lips were somehow softer; no less demanding than previous kisses, he still conquered her mouth with his usual dominance... and yet there was a gentle tenderness to his kiss that she hadn’t felt before. Her heart rose to acknowledge that difference, to bask in it. His caresses were as assured as ever, yet somehow they felt less angry. Less as though he was taking out his resentment and disappointment on her body.
Lydia hadn’t minded. She’d known it was her own fault and taken it as her due, hoping to give him some kind of surcease from the emotional turmoil she’d caused him. But she still appreciated the difference. Had yearned for it. Because he’d done this before... before he’d started questioning her and she’d refused to answer him.
Tonight, his hands were gentle on her sore bottom, although he still caressed her battered cheeks. The skin was barely pink, but she still felt the aftereffects of the paddle. It was a deep ache, but when his hands kneaded her soft cheeks, after the initial discomfort it started to feel quite good, and she found herself moaning in his arms.
Every night, he had brought her to pleasure... but she hadn’t realized how rushed it had been until now. Now he took his time, exploring every inch of her with his hands, igniting her skin in a wholly different way than when he wielded the paddle. Her blood felt like molten lava, pumping through her veins, rising up to meet his fingertips wherever he touched her body and leaving her singed and aching.
When he laid her down on the bed, naked, she expected him to thrust into her, but instead, he continued to explore her with his mouth. His lips followed his fingers down her body, leaving her whimpering as he suckled on her breasts, her swollen nipples aching until they felt like they were about to burst. Soft kisses left a trail of fire down her stomach, her legs spread wide to receive him as he made his way to the cleft between her legs.
Even with her sensitive bottom rubbing against the sheets, she barely noticed the lingering ache. The slight sting enhanced the pleasure she was feeling, the way it always did, but it didn’t take any of her focus. Her focus was entirely on the firm grip of his fingers as he spread her thighs even wider apart, then followed that by spreading her labia, and sliding his tongue through the hot, wet flesh between. She cried out, writhing and clutching at the sheets beneath her hands. Although he’d licked her before, he hadn’t taken this kind of care, this kind of slow torment, before. With just the first touch of his tongue, she was practically sobbing as the sensation ignited a conflagration in her core.
Two fingers slid into her, probing her wet sheath, and Lydia nearly levitated off the bed. Compared to this, the pleasure Isaac had visited on her before was fulfilling and rapturous, but also perfunctory. This was decadence. Glorious passion. Sensual splendor personified.
When his lips closed over her clitoris and suckled, she screamed as the intense sensations surged through her. Rolling orgasms, each wave a response to Isaac’s suckling, leaving her legs kicking, and her body spasming as she tried to hold onto herself through the onslaught of rapturous ecstasy. It wasn’t until she was practically whimpering, her muscles quivering, that he finally released her from his mouth, his fingers sliding from her body.
With half-lidded eyes, she looked up at him, completely under his erotic thrall as he loomed over her. The dark shadow of his broad shoulders, his dark hair and eyes, made him look like some kind of fallen angel, come to earth to ravish and corrupt her totally. It was an utterly delicious fantasy.
The heavy, broad tip of his cock pushed into her, and Lydia moaned. She would normally have pushed her hips up to meet him, eager for the connection, but as sated and limp as she was, as sensitive as her tingling body felt, she could barely manage more than a quiver as he slowly pierced her. The thick length of his cock stretched her open so slowly, so leisurely, it was an entirely new experience for her. She was used to being impaled on him with passionate urgency; feeling him gradually sinking into her with measured deliberation was a feast for her senses... and her senses already felt as though they’d eaten their fill.
Once he did begin to thrust, he did so with a slow and steady pace, taking his time so her body could adjust to the overload of sensation she was already experiencing and the tension in her center began to build again. Lydia found the strength to reach up enough to rest her hands on his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles as he took her, with hard, steady thrusts that left her gasping and arching beneath him.
“Ohh... oh my... Isaac....” She shuddered and writhed, already feeling overwhelmed from the sensations he’d elicited, and yet unable to deny the building of a second, higher climax. It was almost frightening, how he could wring even more of a response from her.
She saw his eyes flash when she said his name, and then his head was bending to her breast again. The taut bud of her nipple swelled as he bit down gently, the aching sting making her body throb. Her fingers slid into his dark hair, gripping his head, and she nearly screamed from the surge of pleasure that flared through her. When his head moved, switching to her other nipple, leaving the tormented one reddened and slightly crushed, she arched her back, thrusting her breast up in offering.
The pain and pleasure had become an exquisite meld of sensations and she’d given herself over to it completely. Her thoughts, her regrets, her desire to make up for her secret-keeping, it was all put aside and lost in the flames of passion, in the vortex of ecstasy as he filled her, again and again and again. The connection between them, the giving and taking of pain and pleasure, had reached a new level, one which left her completely at his sexual mercy.
Watching his wife come apart beneath him, Isaac found himself wallowing in her, enjoying her in a way that he hadn’t allowed himself to before. Her reactions and responses were completely genuine; he knew when a woman was overcome, and Lydia was nearly senseless with pleasure. Masculine triumph rose up in him, urging him onward.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d allowed her secrets to affect him in the bedroom until now.
After all, he’d been passionate. He’d ensured she reached her own climax. He’d discovered how she liked to be touched, found that she enjoyed a bite of pain with the pleasure, taken the time to learn how to best please her. But he’d used that knowledge to assuage his conscience when it came to how he treated her, not to truly focus on her pleasure the way he was tonight.
Tonight was more... more everything.
More of his focus truly on her. More of his passion rather than pent-up resentment taken physical form. More of her responses. More connecting the two of them, in a manner which they hadn’t yet.
Each thrust of his hips sent him sliding into her, her body quivering beneath his in sensual appreciation. His mouth, suckling at her breast, biting at her nipples, had her pussy spasming around him in response. Hearing her little whimpers as he tormented her sensitive buds made his cock ache, his own arousal soaring in response.
His hands moved down to her hips and slid beneath her bottom, lifting her by her cheeks. The angle allowed him deeper access to her body, and she shuddered in his hands as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her bottom. Those chastised cheeks were still sore, and his manhandling had her tightening around him. Her throaty cry of pained pleasure slid down his spine and straight to his balls as they tightened and throbbed.
The wet slap of his body pounding into hers came faster and louder as his pace increased, his thrusts becoming rougher. Lydia’s hands slid around his neck, hanging onto him as he pounded into her body.
“Isaac!” She cried out his name, her quim squeezing so tightly it was twice the effort to move his cock, and then she screamed in ecstasy as she came for the second time. The pleasure was enough to make him falter, her pussy spasming around him, nails digging into the back of his neck.
He thrust erratically, his own breath panting, riding her through her orgasm until he couldn’t hold his own back anymore. Hot pleasure swamped him and he groaned, holding himself tightly against her body, spilling his seed into her womb. Beneath him she trembled and sobbed for breath as his hips rolled against her sensitive parts, rubbing her clit even as he pulsed inside of her.
Bracing his arms, he let some of his weight fall on her as her legs slid down from where her heels had been digging into the backs of his thighs, falling onto the bed on either side of him. One silken limb rubbed against the side of his leg, rather like a cat affectionately rubbing its master.
Lowering his head, Isaac kissed her lips.
Tenderly.
Felt himself shrinking inside of her.
Allowed the moment between them to linger.
Allowed the intimacy to stretch.
Lydia nuzzled against him, obviously happy to have him stay. Happy to have him linger. The soft, little strokes of her fingers and her lips over the bristle on his cheek was enough to make him wish he’d done more of this before. But it had felt too vulnerable - he’d felt too vulnerable to her - to allow such intimacy to grow between them.
Now...
It might be unwise, but he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
So he just enjoyed. Cradled her. Sank into the pleasure of holding her until she fell asleep, basking in the warmth they’d created.
Only then did he slip from her bed to his own.
Was it his imagination, or did his own bed feel colder than ever?
Although Lydia awoke alone, she couldn’t remember a morning when she’d ever awoken feeling so replete. Satisfied. Well-rested.
As Mary bustled about the room, opening up the curtains, Lydia understood why she might feel quite so well-rested - it was much later in the morning that she usually awoke! The sun was quite high in the sky.
Between her legs, she ached pleasantly. Her bottom was still sore, but not horribly so. At the very least, the rather nice ache between her legs assisted with dispersing some of the lingering effects of her spanking. When Mary helped her to dress, she found there was a similar ache in her nipples, which were quite sensitive to even the lightest touch of fabric against them. All in all, she felt quite wonderful.
Last night... well it had been beyond anything she’d ever dreamed.
It also made her a touch sad, as she realized how much Isaac had been holding back. What she couldn’t understand was what had changed. Was it just the advent of his brother and sister’s return? Had one of them said something to him? Or was it something she had done or said during dinner?
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of a single reason for such a distinct difference. Not that she was complaining.
“Which dress would you like to wear today, Your Grace?” Mary asked, holding up two offerings.
Lydia’s lips curved. “The lavender please, Mary.”
It was more form-sitting than her usual morning dresses, with a slightly lower neckline, although not at all improper. The color made the most of her pale eyes, without matching them exactly, and the soft blonde of her hair. It was a gown made to make the wearer feel good, which made it perfect for her this morning because she already felt as if she could take on the world.
Unfortunately, her expectations were somewhat disappointed. Although Isaac was around the house more, by necessity they were mostly kept apart during the day. He and Benedict had business to attend to in the study, while she found herself caught up with Arabella and Mrs. Huffington, planning the upcoming ball and house party and penning the necessary invitations. Sending one to her sister and stepfather gave her a small pang of anxiety, as she truly didn’t want to see her stepfather at all, but there was no other choice. Not inviting them would be seen as decidedly odd, and she did want to see her sister.
She supposed she could always hope Amy might come without the Earl... although it was quite doubtful. Although as a married duchess, Lydia could certainly act as a chaperone for her sister now, the Earl was far too controlling. Besides which, he’d wanted something from Lydia’s new position. She had no doubt he’d come to see her new home.
At least, as the mistress of the house, she could put his bedchamber far away from hers. Far away from any ladies, actually.
When Isaac came to her bed that night, he was just as tender, just as focused in his attentions, although with a small difference. He was also a touch rougher. Lydia was entirely enthusiastic as he took her from behind, pinching and tugging on her nipples so hard she thought he might crush the little buds... the pain made her quite wild as she pushed back against his thrusts, the slight soreness in her bottom reawakening as it slapped against his body. When he gave her upturned bottom a few firm slaps, she found herself crying out with pleasure as she climaxed almost immediately.
He held her in his arms again, until she felt asleep, her nose nestled into his chest hair. Sleepily, as she drowsed off, Lydia could only wonder at her inexplicable reactions to a few swats amidst coitus, but there was no denying it had happened. Pressing herself even more against Isaac, she let herself slip into sleep, deciding the why didn’t matter, she would just enjoy that she did.
Chapter 12
Resting his hands against his wife’s creamy, upturned buttocks, Isaac stared moodily at the pristine cheek. She’d had more than enough time to recover from her last spanking. More than once, he’d opened an avenue of conversation which would have allowed her to confide in him. Still she resisted.
