A Gentlewoman's Dalliance Read Free Page B

look away from, even when he plucked at her nipple and gave it a wicked little tweak. “A little pain is good for the soul and for the senses. It heightens one’s perception, and brings all the sensations into focus. After suffering, the pleasures to follow are always sweeter.”
    I believe you, I believe you, she wanted to say, but instinctively knew that as part of the game now, she shouldn’t speak. Turning to Leonard she signaled compliance with her eyes, her spirits soaring on his answering smile of love.
    â€œVery good,” opined Benedict, as if the exchange had been written in letters ten feet high for his convenience. “Now I’d like you to lean over the desk and rest upon it. Reach over and hold yourself steady. Grip the edge.”
    Mary complied. The position was both comfortable and uncomfortable; she was supported, and yet her corset pressed against the slopes of her breasts, forcing them upward. The surface of the blotter rubbed against her nipples, and she imagined mundane words of business pressed against them, in reflection. Down below, the lower edge of her corset dug wickedly into her belly, creating a sly infernal pressure upon her vitals.
    Turning her face to Leonard once more, she gnawed upon her lower lip, and the heat in his gaze made her surge against the desk, her body craving pleasure or pain or both. She closed her eyes, rocking her pelvis against the solid, unyielding mahogany.
    â€œTut-tut…contain yourself,” commanded her young disciplinarian, laying his hand flat on the small of her back. The pressure made things worse, plaguing her sex.
    â€œYes, please try, my dear. There’s a good girl.”
    At the sound of Leonard’s voice, Mary fell still.
    To please you, my darling…to please you.
    Her knuckles white, she grasped the far end of the desk. What would happen when the first blow fell if she could barely contain herself at this stage of the proceedings?
    For a few moments all was silence, save for the crackling of the fire in the grate and the very faint hiss of the gas lamps. Wild imaginings ranged around Mary’s mind. She tried to form a notion of what the spanks might feel like, but her thoughts were too jittery to bring to order. Especially when other notions, just as blatant, crept in.
    She pictured Leonard taking her over this very desk, pushing in, rutting her hard, stirring her to spend again and again while he whispered lewd and loving nonsensical words in her ear. She could almost feel his sturdy member stretching her inner topography, moving to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. Her hands tightened on the desk’s edge for a different reason now, anything to prevent them from stealing to her cleft and seeking to ease the ache there.
    â€œWhat are you thinking about, Mrs. Brigstock?” said that cool, young voice suddenly, and as Benedict spoke, Mary heard the rustling of clothing as if he were taking off his coat. When she stole a glance at him, he’d laid the garment aside. Slipping out his cuff links, he began rolling up his sleeves.
    â€œMrs. Brigstock?” he prompted, and Mary realized she’d given him no answer.
    What could she say? The truth would incriminate her, and if she told a lie, she knew that not only would Benedict not believe her, but neither would Leonard. He knew her too well, especially of late, since they’d been closer.
    â€œI…I was imagining what a spanking might feel like.”
    â€œNot having second thoughts, I hope,” inquired the younger man, leaning close. He wore a rather more exotic shaving lotion than she might have imagined for one so severe. It was strong and spicy, almost dizzying. She rather liked it, but on the whole preferred Leonard’s more reserved choice, a light but distinguished concoction from Trumper of Curzon Street, with fresh bouquet that hinted of limes.
    What thoughts are these? Comparing the merits of shaving lotions? I do believe