Papa's Desires Page 11

  When she thought Papa was still in her room, she thrust her center against the bed three times in quick succession, and she sighed at the pleasure and relief that wound through her. Sometimes when her papa gave her a bath, he stroked her kitty and made it feel good, even giving her a release while she rested on her hands and knees in the water as he prepared to cleanse her privates with a warm wet cloth. She hoped he gave her such attention in the bath this morning. She rocked forward once more, standing on her tiptoes in the process in order to drag her clitty over the edge of the mattress. Ripples of euphoric warmth spread through her, and she couldn’t help but repeat the motion over and over again, careless of whether or not footsteps were approaching, she was becoming so lost in the pleasure that she lost her ability to focus on anything but curing the sweet agony that was mounting between her thighs.

  Smack! Smack!

  She gave a startled cry and immediately went still, then chanced a look over her shoulder to find Papa glaring at her. With his neckcloth loosened, his jacket removed, and his sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick muscular forearms, she couldn’t help but stare in adoration. Even if he was probably going to spank her again.

  “Sorry, Papa,” she said. “My kitty feels achy and my bottom hole feels…achy too. And I feel as if I’ve contracted a fever, I am most unsettled.”

  “I think, given your lustful reaction to the plug filling your hiney hole, that perhaps I should have used a larger one.” He delivered five more swats to her backside that had her gasping and clutching the covers harder, the smacks making her ever aware of the intrusion in her bottom. “However, your bath is waiting and I don’t want the water to get cold. Tomorrow during your anal training, do not feign surprise when I use the next size up.”

  “I-I understand, Papa.”

  “Hold your cheeks open again. I’m going to remove the plug.”

  She obeyed, drawing her bottom apart and waiting for him to withdraw the plug. He grabbed hold of the base and twisted it around as he slowly, ever so slowly, pulled it from her snug hole. Once it was out, she flushed hot because he hadn’t yet ordered her to release her cheeks and she was spread shamefully wide to his gaze. She felt the heat of his stare on her secret pucker and whimpered at the feel of her moisture sliding down her inner thigh. Oh no. She’d gotten so aroused that she was making an even bigger mess. She wished she could control her body’s reactions in times like this—the times when she wanted nothing more than for Papa to claim her or at least stroke her kitty until she was catapulted into the clouds.

  “I think,” he said, pressing a finger to her exposed rosette, “I know a little girl who’s going to enjoy feeling her papa’s cock in her hiney hole.”

  She had no response but another whimper, for his observations, while likely true, left hot shame coursing through her. But in spite of her embarrassment, she eagerly anticipated the day when Papa decided she was ready for his cock in her bottom. The plug had been cool upon insertion, but her papa’s cock was warm and pulsing, and she imagined it would feel oh so nice plunging in and out of her tightness. Heat bloomed on her face. Would Papa spurt his seed into her bottom hole, just as he did in her kitty? Well, she supposed she would find out soon.

  He pushed her hands away from her behind and guided her off the bed. He brought her flush against his huge, solid body and wrapped his arms around her, running his hands up and down her back. She threaded her arms around his waist, hugging him back and leaning her head on his chest, with her ear centered over his heart. She liked to feel the steady thumping of his life force whenever she got the chance. It brought her comfort like none other, and she imagined her heart beating in the same rhythm, to the tune of her papa’s heart.

  “Come, little girl. Papa will give you a thorough bath and then we’ll have breakfast. Perhaps we’ll go for a walk in the gardens and then have story time in the library.”

  Joy filled her at the prospect of story time. She loved spending time in Papa’s big library while he worked at his desk, but even more so when he gathered her on his lap in the huge chair in the corner of the expansive room to read to her. Just like a papa might read a story to his special little girl.

  “That all sounds very nice, Papa.” She smiled up at him as warmth spread throughout her, a giddy happiness unlike anything she’d ever known. It seemed every day with Papa was better than the one before. He grasped her hand and led her into her room, where a steaming bath was waiting. There were no signs of the servants, as Papa always liked to be the one to bathe her, and no one, not even the doting Mrs. Hennely, tried to interfere with his methods.

  “Into the bath with you, little girl,” he said, lifting her up and then placing her down into the warm water. She sighed with pleasure as the heat enveloped her, soothing her muscles and sending her into a relaxed state. For a few moments, she forgot about the throbbing between her legs. However, as soon as Papa started scrubbing her arms and then moved to her thighs, her urgency returned and she gave him a pleading look, hoping he would understand and make the aching go away.

  Grayson worked the washcloth all over his sweet little girl’s body, but purposely avoided her privates. For now. Maybe it made him a bastard, but he enjoyed watching her discomfort as she struggled to keep from squirming her bottom against the tub and keep her hands away from her kitty. The dark pink tips of her bosom had hardened, and she started to breath rather heavily as her blue eyes darkened with increasing need. When he ran the cloth along her inner thighs, she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a whimper.

  “Oh Papa, I’ll do anything if you’ll just touch my kitty. Please.”

  Though he’d planned to torment her for longer, he found he couldn’t deny her. It pleased him that wearing the plug had gotten her so excited, and his shaft lurched in his trousers, knowing he would soon claim that tight, puckering hole of hers.

  “Get on your hands and knees, little girl.”

  The water sloshed as she scrambled to get into the proper position. She lifted her bottom high out of the water and parted her legs, giving him access to her smooth glimmering folds. Rivulets of soapy water ran down the petals of her quim, and he gently traced every little crevice of her privates while she trembled and released the softest, sweetest whimpers. She had the loveliest little cunny, pink and swollen with need. He sought out her clitty and massaged it until she began jerking her hips and moaning.

  He trailed his other hand along her wet bottom, still slightly reddened from the quick spanking he’d given her for humping the edge of the bed while wearing the plug. Then he pressed two fingers to her little arsehole and slid them inside before resuming his fondling of her protruding nubbin.

  “Papa wants you to come with your bottom hole filled up. Do you think you can do that, little girl?”

  “Oh, Papa, I…” Her voice trailed off. She shut her eyes as a look of intense concentration came over her. She gyrated her center against his hand and cried out as she quickly reached the apex of her desire.

  “Good girl, Cynny. Very good girl.”

  Cynny stared into her closet, stunned at all the new dresses that hung on racks. She glanced over her shoulder at Papa.

  “Where did all these come from?”

  He smiled. “I sent word to Debenham’s, as well as a few other shops, asking them to deliver as many readymade gowns as they could manage, along with shoes, several hats, nightdresses, undergarments, and stockings. However, some of this might not fit you precisely, and we have an appointment at Debenham’s on Friday for you to be measured. You will have a custom wardrobe fit for a lady. I intend to take you to balls and show you off in society soon. Word of our marriage has gotten out and we’ve received several invitations to social occasions.”

  “But Papa, what will you tell people about me? I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to tell your peers that I came from Talcott House. What if they ask more questions?” Panic raced through her. Though she’d been educated as a lady during her four years at Talcott House—she could read, write
, sing, play the piano, engage in lively but refined conversation, and even recite poetry, in addition to the finer details of managing a household, but she hadn’t quite considered how she might present herself while out in society. Worry curled in the pit of her stomach. What if Papa’s friends didn’t like her or thought her lesser for not being born with a title?

  “I will not mention Talcott House, darling. I agree that might raise questions neither of us are prepared to answer. In addition, I don’t believe Miss Wickersham would appreciate the extra attention that might come from speaking openly about her unique establishment.”

  Cynny giggled. “You don’t want to get on Miss Wickersham’s bad side, Papa. She might actually swat you with her ruler this time!”

  He chuckled, recalling the time in the headmistress of Talcott House’s study when the bold woman had taken the pistol from Lord Caldwell and then held tight to the ruler as she set about maintaining control of the situation between Lord Kensington and Grayson and their mutual interest in Hyacinth.

  “If anyone asks how we met, Cynny, we will only tell a partial truth. Now, as you well know, I abhor lies and keeping secrets, but in this case, I feel it necessary for your protection.”

  “What partial truth will we tell, Papa?”

  “You are the orphaned daughter of an associate of mine. I stopped by your new guardian’s home in the country on my way to London, and your charm and beauty enraptured me. I think it wise to present ourselves as a love match, despite some in the ton considering it unfashionable, as it will seem more believable and also explain some of my recent rather odd behavior in London.”

  She laughed again as she started to feel at ease over the prospect of venturing out in society. “That all sounds fine, Papa. But…what odd behavior are you referring to? What did you do, dare I ask?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, as if the memory of his actions discomforted him. “I may have asked a lady I was paired with on the ballroom floor if she’d ever heard of a gang of thieves called The Weasels.”

  Cynny’s stomach dropped to the floor, but she tried to maintain her cheerful disposition, lest she give him any reason to believe her mention of The Weasels had been anything other than a fanciful tale. “Oh dear, Papa. You said that to a lady?”

  “I’m afraid so. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, or the amusing story you’d told me.”

  “Well, I hope you didn’t tell anyone that I was a member of such a gang,” she said matter-of-factly, “because I would hate to disappoint them. I am nothing but a boring orphan from a boring, poor family in the country. This is my first time in London, you know.”

  Lies. More lies. When would she be able to stop?

  Her stomach dropped to the floor all over again. The golden pocket watch! She still had to hide the bloody watch somewhere in his house where it could be innocently discovered.

  He stepped forward and drew her into his arms, kissing her forehead. She inhaled his masculine scent, trying to derive comfort from his closeness even though she worried their happiness might soon come crashing to an end. He didn’t approve of lies or secrets, but she couldn’t seem to abide by this particular rule of his. Oh, how disappointed Papa would be if he ever found out the truth about her.

  “There is nothing boring about you at all, little girl. Now, let’s find a pretty morning gown for you to wear. Then we will enjoy a delicious breakfast together and go about our day. I would like to know more about your past, and I suppose you might like to learn more about mine. A long walk in the gardens on this beautiful day will be the perfect setting for us to become better acquainted.”

  Oh dear. Would she have to tell more lies today? She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly burning and her eyes watering. Luckily, she had her face hidden in Papa’s chest, and he couldn’t glimpse the tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. She blinked hard several times, and by the time he grasped her hand and led her further into the closet, she had made her expression cheerful again.

  Please God, she prayed. Please don’t let him find out.

  He dressed her in a beautiful blue gown with matching slippers, and he drew her hair back into a ribbon. He was so attentive and gentle as he dressed her, that she thought her heart might burst with happiness. Once they finally reached the gardens, she was delighted when he started telling her about his childhood, rather than ask about hers first, which gave her some time to decide just how much of the truth to tell him—as well as which parts to lie about.

  He spoke of his childhood in the English countryside, his tedious years in school, and ended by speaking of his parents with obvious adoration. She was saddened to hear they had passed not too long ago. His mother of an illness two years ago, and his father less than a year ago from a wound he suffered while out on a hunt. She squeezed his hand as he spoke of his loss.

  “I’m so sorry, Papa. My parents passed away when I was only five. Both of them had a fever. I thought they might be getting better, but one morning Mama didn’t wake up. My father passed away a few hours later, though I think he might have lived if Mama had. I remember them loving each other very much.”

  He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Oh, Cynny, I am sorry too. Is that when you came to live at Talcott House?”

  She bit her lip, considering. What if Papa had reason to speak with Miss Wickersham or someone else from Talcott House again and they happened to mention that Cynny hadn’t arrived there until the age of eighteen? She decided on her lies very carefully, trying to ignore the guilt surging through her. Vagueness. Perhaps she should just be vague. “I spent some time with my uncle,” she said, “but he wasn’t a nice man and he drank his weight in whiskey almost every day. Then I lived on the streets for a while, and that is where Miss Wickersham found me. Once she realized I was homeless, she brought me to Talcott House.” There, that was acceptable. Her heart pounded. At least she hoped. She hadn’t mentioned an exact timeline or how old she’d been when she went to live at Talcott House.

  “I am glad Miss Wickersham found you, Cynny.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “The very thought of you alone on the streets disturbs me more than you could know.”

  She gave him a sad smile in acknowledgement, but didn’t correct his statement—that she hadn't been alone. She would never speak of The Weasels again. She would tuck that part of her life away, in a secret compartment in her heart, never to be opened again.

  “Come,” he said, offering her a warm smile. “Let us finish our stroll through the gardens. There is a beautiful patch of hyacinth growing behind those bushes over there that I would like to show you. Of course, the beauty of your namesake flower pales in comparison to you, my dear.”

  She flushed as Papa led her through the gardens. “Papa, I think you should take up writing poetry. You say the most...romantic things sometimes.” She cleared her throat. “Have you heard the lilt of her laugh or gazed into her eyes, which are the shade of a morning sky in spring?” she said, reciting his words spoken not so long ago.

  He led her around the bushes to the patch of hyacinth, and the fragrant scent of the flowers filled her senses. He grabbed her, bringing her flush against his body. “I was never a poet until I met you, my sweet Cynny. Nor was I such a beast.” Then he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her soundly, until she was panting and breathless with desire as the sunlight streamed down upon them while they stood in the gardens of their own little world.

  Chapter 13

  A fortnight had passed since their wedding, and Cynny felt as if she’d finally settled into her new life. Lord Grayson was as gentle and kind as she could have hoped for in a papa, though he could be stern with her when she was naughty. However, if she were being honest with herself, she would have been disappointed if he let her get away with any sort of mischief.

  Since she’d come to live at Grayson House, he had only had cause to punish her a handful of times. The first time, on their wedding day for her eavesdropping and spying on Miss Wickersham’s study. The o
ther couple of times had been for minor infractions—such as stomping on the staircase when he’d ordered her to take a nap and she wasn’t tired, rolling her eyes when he’d wanted to inspect her kitty for any signs that she’d been touching herself, and for running down the staircase, which he’d spanked her the hardest for since he claimed she had endangered herself. Though his punishment spankings hurt, his firm but loving guidance helped her to feel secure in her new life. He cared about her—he told her he loved her every day at least once—and he only enforced discipline when she truly required a correction.

  She also had grown quite fond of the anal training he’d imposed upon her. She had quickly worked her way to the largest of the plugs, and two nights ago he had finally claimed her hiney hole with his big hard cock. She flushed at the memory of how she’d obediently bent over the bed, spread her cheeks wide for her papa, and held still while he massaged the salve in and out of her rosebud, plunging three thick digits into her tightness until eventually replacing them with his rigid length. His steady thrusts into her bottom hole had set her body aflame, and when he’d reached underneath her to stroke her clitty, without missing a beat as he pounded into her, it had taken but moments for her to come as a thunderous release crashed over her. She smiled to herself, hoping he would claim her back hole with his cock again soon.

  Two maids passed her in the hallway, carrying fresh linens up from the laundry, and she decided she had better cease entertaining naughty thoughts so frequently, or the servants might start to wonder why she was always flushing and smiling to herself.

  She redirected her thoughts to her upcoming plans and excitement spiraled throughout her as she wandered down the wide corridors of Grayson House, happy that she no longer got lost in the spacious home. She had just come up from the kitchens after conferring with Cook about the menu for the upcoming week and in particular a luncheon she planned to host. The wives of two of Papa’s friends, Lady Tiffin and Lady Harding, had called upon her together recently and Cynny wished to repay their kindness with a luncheon. She had sent invitations to both ladies, as her first foray into polite society. She wanted to make sure all went as planned, in hopes that the ladies would speak favorably about her in the ton and when she attended her first ball with Papa she would be more quickly accepted by his peers. The menu for the luncheon would be perfect and she had already spent a great many hours thinking up proper conversation topics. She couldn’t wait, but what had her even more excited as she skipped toward Papa’s library, was that it was story time—the special time of day when Papa stopped whatever he was doing and cuddled her in his lap to read her stories.