as ordered. She felt him unbuttoning her gown. “This style of dress is much to my liking for home. Although I have to take the entire thing off, it is so much more practical than those hoops and crinolines. And more comfortable for you, I’m sure.”
“It is a new princess gown.” Cici plucked at her black mourning dress which was a one piece dress fitted at the waist with clever seaming that flattered her figure. Instead of billowing hoops and crinolines, a few layers of soft petticoats sufficiently filled out the full skirt. It was infinitely more comfortable for day-to-day wear.
He slipped the gown over her shoulders and removed her two petticoats by untying them at the waist. This left her in her corset, chemise, drawers and stockings. “Kneel on the bench, please.” He waited until she settled on the kneeler which was about a foot above the floor so her feet were without leverage. Andrew had been eager to try out the bench since James had shown it to him. He knew that when she bent forward her full bottom would be at the perfect height for his attentions.
“We’ll leave the corset on with a few adjustments.” He pulled her chemise down baring her breasts. They sat atop her corset like an offering to him. Unable to resist he caressed each mound and tweaked the nipples firmly. “So lovely, my dear, too bad we have to spend our precious time together engaged in discipline instead of pleasure. Now, bend over.”
After she took her place, he adjusted her position so the upper platform of the bench supported her rib cage and abdomen. Her breasts were left to hang over the plank, free to play with or chastise as necessary. She wasn’t ready for the latter yet, but he enjoyed looking at her nearly naked and positioned submissively before him. Next, Andrew pulled her chemise up over her bottom and left it bunched at her waist. This revealed her loose drawers and her black stockings. Making quick work of the drawers which now sat around her bent knees, her bare bottom was prettily framed by the remaining silk stockings. Unable to resist the tantalizing display, his warm hand caressed her wide hips and buttocks. She wiggled and adjusted her position under his hand. SMACK!
“Stay still, Cecilia. Move your knees apart and get your balance.”
Obediently she spread her knees apart and found the position much more comfortable and stable. Hearing his footsteps crossing the room she glanced over her shoulder to see what he was doing. Surely the one smack was not the extent of this punishment.
“Eyes forward, and stay in the position I have placed you in.”
She heard a splash and then a whippy noise through the air. Confounded by the sounds she still kept her position, reluctant to add to her upcoming punishment. Heavy footsteps sounded and momentarily he was standing beside her.
“Look at me, Cecilia.”
She instantly turned her head in compliance then gasped in alarm when she saw the tied bundle of sticks he held in his hand.
“Do you know what this is?”
She shook her head negatively, but as she stared at the ominous looking punishment tool a feeling of dread crept over her.
“This is a birching rod, something that I’m afraid you will become overly familiar with until you curb that tongue of yours. You sound more like an East End harridan than my duchess.” He began to lecture again. “Although I understand your anger toward your sister, I cannot tolerate such language from your lips. As my wife, your actions must always be above reproach. Although I don’t often heed town gossip, the scandalmongers can be vicious toward ladies and I won’t have your name bandied about as the latest on dit over afternoon tea. We already have our impromptu marriage to deal with.”
“I’m sorry My Lord,” she murmured not noticing she had reverted to formal address. She found it ironic that he was so concerned about her creating a scandal. How much gossip would it cause if it became known that her new husband had
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