Papa's Desires Page 2

  Not that wearing drawers would have saved her from a bare bottom spanking, she supposed. If she were wearing a pair, she had no doubt the headmistress would order her to reach back and part the slit of her drawers. But at least the undergarment would’ve hidden some of her private area from Miss Wickersham. Oh, how humiliating it was to know the area between her thighs—her kitty—was on full display to her guardian as she remained bent over the naughty seat, awaiting the firm application of the ruler.

  Miss Wickersham moved to Cynny’s side and placed a steadying hand on her lower back. Cynny’s stomach promptly flipped and she couldn’t help but clench her behind in anticipation.

  “Young lady, there will be no tensing up during your punishment. If you don’t relax those naughty cheeks of yours, I will do something to force you to relax them. Trust me, little girl, you won’t like it one bit.”

  Cynny wondered what the headmistress could be talking about. How could she force her to keep her bottom relaxed? She gulped and made her bottom go soft, even though she knew she would now feel the full sting of each smack of the sturdy implement. At least when she was punished with her clothes on, Miss Wickersham couldn’t tell when her bottom was tensed up. How would she ever survive twenty-two whacks on the bare without accidentally tensing up against the punishing blows? Her heart raced with nervousness.

  Thwack! The first stroke fell, and Cynny cried out and felt her center jerk forward against the naughty seat as she involuntarily disobeyed the headmistress’s orders and shamefully clenched her cheeks. Oh no.

  “Naughty girl.” Miss Wickersham tapped the ruler along Cynny’s thigh. “I will give you one more chance to keep that bottom soft and pliant for the remaining twenty-one strokes, but rest assured that if you clench up again, I will have no choice but to resort to more extreme measures to insure your cooperation.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I-I shall try, but it’s quite difficult.”

  “Following rules is not always easy, little girl, but one of my young ladies should have enough restraint to behave herself on most occasions. Now, part your legs a bit wider and we shall continue. I certainly hope you refrain from clenching, lest I am forced to ask Cook to prepare a plug of ginger root for your little hiney hole.”

  A what for her what?

  Surely Cynny must have misheard Miss Wickersham.

  She gasped and peered over her shoulder, preparing to ask the headmistress to repeat herself, but the ruler soon thwacked across her bare cheeks yet again. By some miracle, she managed not to clench during the unexpected blow. She immediately spread her legs a bit further apart as instructed, though she despaired over having her privates even more fully exposed.

  Perhaps the added shame was part of her punishment.

  Before she had time to ponder this, Miss Wickersham pressed harder on her lower back and brought the ruler down again and again, at least ten times in quick succession. Cynny tried to count the blows in her head, but the pain muddled her mind and left her so unable to focus, she could only concentrate on the fire that had been set ablaze on her bottom.

  Then it happened.

  Miss Wickersham gave her an especially hard smack, on the tender area of her behind where her thighs curved into her buttocks, and Cynny clenched her bottom.

  She gasped loud as dread filled her.

  Oh no. No no no.

  What if she’d heard the headmistress correctly and the older woman did indeed plan to put ginger root in her bottom hole? Though Cynny couldn’t imagine how ginger root would keep her from clenching, the very idea of anything going in her bottom hole was embarrassing enough to bring tears to her eyes.

  Miss Wickersham made a disappointed noise in her throat, followed by a scolding tsk sound that caused Cynny’s trepidation to deepen.

  “Stay right there, young lady, and don’t you dare move. I will return shortly. If you so much as reach back and rub your bottom, even for a second, rest assured that I will find out and we will start your punishment over at stroke number one.”

  The headmistress then departed the room in a quiet swish of skirts, leaving Cynny to her anxious thoughts. She sniffled and wiped at her fresh fallen tears, feeling absolutely wretched. Her bottom burned and she longed to rub out the throbbing sting, but she feared the moment she reached back to caress the globes of her backside, Miss Wickersham would return and catch her in the act.

  Cynny concentrated on taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself. She tried to turn her mind off, because she could hardly stand the immense feelings of shame and guilt that were washing through her, along with the fear over whether or not Miss Wickersham really would insert something into her bottom hole.

  But it was no use. Cynny couldn’t stop the tears, and she couldn’t quell the unwanted emotions rolling through her. She supposed she would have to endure. How she wished she’d been better. How she wished she’d been good enough to already have been matched with a papa. Then she wouldn’t be here right now, awaiting further punishment and worrying herself over whether or not her actions would endanger the reputation and financial standing of Talcott House.

  Approaching footsteps and the swish of Miss Wickersham’s skirts prompted Cynny to look over her shoulder, dreadful curiosity curling in her stomach.

  “Wh-what is that, ma’am?” Cynny asked, her gaze on a shiny cream colored object in the headmistress’s hand.

  “This is a plug of ginger root, peeled and prepared for insertion into a naughty little girl’s bottom hole. I find it rather fitting that Cook got to prepare this for you, given the nature of your most recent infraction.”

  Shock swirled through Cynny. She swallowed hard, not quite believing.

  Did Miss Wickersham truly intend to put that…that thing…into her behind hole?

  “Oh, please, ma’am! I’m so sorry!”

  “No amount of pleading will sway me, little girl. This freshly carved ginger root is going into your hiney hole, whether you like it or not. Now, be a good girl and reach around to pull your bottom cheeks apart. Be sure to draw them nice and wide for me.”

  It took a combination of scolding and encouragement from her guardian before Cynny finally complied and reached around to pull her cheeks wide for the ginger root. Her face burned as she did so, but at least she’d stopped crying. She was too surprised by what was transpiring to possess the energy for tears.

  When Miss Wickersham first pressed the cool tip of the carved ginger root to her tight hole, Cynny let out a loud gasp, but the older woman ignored her slight squirming and her noises of protest and pushed the tip of the object inside her, breaching her snug passage.

  The only other thing Cynny had had in her bottom hole before was a thermometer, and she flushed at her memories of the few times she’d been sick while at Talcott House and Nurse Lister had taken her over her knee—the best position, she’d claimed—then rubbed her bottom to help her relax before parting her cheeks, caressing a bit of salve over her hole and then sliding the thermometer deep inside her.

  This, however, felt much different than a thermometer. For one, the carved ginger root was substantially larger and the pressure of it filling and stretching her caused her to become more aware of everything below her waist, particularly a strange throbbing sensation between her thighs that kept growing and growing. If she were alone right now, she would reach for her nether folds to discover what was the matter with her, but as her legs were still spread and her kitty still shamefully exposed, she was helpless to the feelings that were surging through her.

  “Oh, please, Miss Wickersham. I don’t think it will fit.”

  “Don’t be dramatic. It’s almost all the way inside your tight little rosebud, Cynny. Just one more push. There, all done. Now, you will remain in this position for several minutes. Once I surmise the ginger root is having the proper effect on your insides, I will administer the final eight strokes you have coming.”

  The proper effect on her insides? Cynny wanted to ask what Miss Wickersham meant by that, but she
couldn’t find her voice. But when a heated tingle began to fill her bottom hole, understanding started to dawn. She released a shaky breath and braced herself on the naughty chair, lest she give into temptation and stroke her aching privates or reach behind her to extract the ginger root, which was slowly beginning to burn.

  “Oh, oh,” she gasped, peering over her shoulder. “I swear I will never misbehave again, if only you would take it out. Oh, please!”

  A strange look of satisfaction glimmered in the depths of Miss Wickersham’s eyes as she walked closer, tapping the ruler on her palm, with her gaze intent on Cynny’s backside.

  “I will be happy to remove the ginger root, my dear, but only after you’ve taken the last eight strokes.” With that, Miss Wickersham raised the ruler and brought it down smartly across Cynny’s already tender bottom.

  “Oh!” Cynny couldn’t help but clench, and then she gasped at the unbearable increase of burning in her most private hole. Clenching made the burn even worse! Terrible realization set in. If she wished to avoid the sharp sudden burn in her bottom, she would have to force herself not to clench.

  Thwack! Thwack! Two more blows descended upon her cheeks in quick order. In her surprise, Cynny clenched on the second one, then cried out in pain. She tried to stand up, but Miss Wickersham kept a firm hand on her lower back, preventing her from rising.

  The last five strokes came quickly. A small mercy, Cynny supposed. She somehow managed not to clench again, though her bottom hole still burned something fierce.

  Tears coated her face and she sniffled, awash in misery and shame. Though the thrashing with the ruler was over, there was still the matter of the plug of ginger root shoved up her private hole. Would Miss Wickersham remove it, or would she allow Cynny to pull it out?

  She remained bent over the naughty chair, her legs weakened and her entire body spent of all energy, except for the odd sensations that kept increasing between her thighs. What was that? she wondered.

  “Cynny, your punishment is over. I hope you learned your lesson, and I hope that I must never be so severe with you again.”

  “Oh, I promise I learned my lesson, ma’am! You’ll never have to spank me again. I swear it! I’ll be oh so well-behaved, just you wait and see.” I’ll be good enough for a papa. I’ll be good so you won’t break my betrothal to Lord Kensington. I’ll be good so Talcott House doesn’t fall into ruin.

  “I’m going to remove the plug from your bottom hole now, but you must stay bent over for a bit longer. The petals of your little kitty are moist and I will have to clean you up before you go to bed.”

  Cynny’s head spun. A few seconds later, the headmistress deftly pulled the ginger root from her bottom, though the sting lingered, along with a phantom pressure of the fullness she’d felt until moments ago.

  “The sting will gradually fade. You’ll feel back to your normal self shortly, my dear, though I have no doubt you’ll have a difficult time sitting down. I do believe I know a certain little girl who will be sleeping on her stomach tonight, that’s for certain.”

  To Cynny’s mortification, Miss Wickersham urged her legs open wider, then wiped a cloth through her nether folds. With her bottom hole still burning, her behind aflame from her spanking, and the pulsing heat between her thighs, it was a struggle for her to remain pliant as her guardian cleaned her up. Of course, Cynny didn’t quite understand why she was being cleaned up. She hadn’t had an accident, yet apparently her kitty had become wet. It didn’t make any sense to her, but she was too embarrassed to ask Miss Wickersham for an explanation. The sooner she got out of this study and back to the quiet safety of her bed—hopefully Daisy and Rosie, the friends who shared a bedchamber with her, had already fallen asleep—the sooner she could put this painful and humiliating experience behind her.

  “You may stand up now and right your skirts.”

  Cynny obeyed, and when she turned to face Miss Wickersham, the older woman gave her a sympathetic look and pressed a handkerchief to her face, drying her tears.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I-I hope you’ll believe me when I say I am truly sorry.”

  “I hope this is a new beginning for you, Cynny.” Miss Wickersham raised one eyebrow, appearing thoughtful but also stern. “In regards to the moisture I had to clean away from your privates, I hope you will remember the rules about touching your kitty, young lady. You will refrain from touching yourself, no matter how tempted you might be. If I suspect you’ve been debasing yourself in such a manner, there will be consequences.”

  Cynny gave Miss Wickersham her most innocent look. “I would never touch my privates, ma’am. I know my kitty is a special treasure I must save for my papa.” But even as she said it, she wondered why her papa would want to touch her privates and why it mattered if she’d already touched them herself. Of course, she doubted the headmistress was in any sort of mood to entertain such questions, and Cynny wisely kept silent.

  Miss Wickersham patted her back and then grasped her hand, leading her out of the study and toward the hallway that housed the older girls. “Time for bed, little girl. I will help you change into your nightdress and tuck you in.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Though she’d just been soundly punished by her strict guardian, Cynny’s spirits rose at the prospect of being tucked in and having Miss Wickersham’s undivided attention during a time when she wasn’t being scolded or punished.

  She imagined it would be wondrous to have a husband soon—a papa who would shower her with attention every single day. A papa to bathe her, dress her, snuggle her, read her stories, and guide her to be the very best little girl she could possibly be.

  Of course, she needed to know why she must save her special treasure—her privates—for her papa. She needed to know what happened between husbands and wives, and she resolved to write Cammie a letter soon asking for the details Miss Wickersham had omitted.

  She supposed her papa—Lord Kensington—would see her naked frequently because he would give her baths and dress her. But was that the only time he would touch her kitty? When he was bathing her? Hm. Fiddlesticks. Her tummy flipped, for having thought the naughty word in prim and proper Miss Wickersham’s presence, among other inappropriate ideas, but luckily the woman didn’t seem to suspect the naughty turn Cynny’s thoughts had taken.

  A few minutes later, Cynny found herself snug and warm under the thick covers of her bed, having been efficiently tucked in by Miss Wickersham, who had again reminded her not to touch her privates. Though her kitty still pulsed and she thought she was wet down there once more, she obeyed her guardian’s orders and closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Lying stomach down, of course.

  Chapter 3

  Lord Nathaniel Grayson, the Earl of Shively, tapped his walking stick impatiently upon the floor of the carriage. He pulled a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat, checked the time and returned the piece to its rightful place. With no appointment there was nothing for which he was late, yet he still was impatient to arrive at his destination — Talcott House, home of Miss Katrina Wickersham.

  He had only learned of Miss Wickersham's existence in the previous forty-eight hours. In the midst of preparations for the London season which was about to commence, he had been distracted by correspondence from his father’s solicitor. The solicitor revealed some information to him about his late father's estate which shocked Nathaniel and it had caused him great consternation.

  Lord Grayson did not care for surprises. He meant to find out what sort of charlatan this Miss Wickersham was and to make clear to her, face to face, that her days of easy money had come to an end. His father had been a soft touch for any sort of hard luck story, whether based in fact or purely fiction. It had frustrated Grayson to no end to see his father’s fine character abused in such a way. Since ascending to the earldom upon his father’s demise, Grayson had divested the estate of several costly sponsorships. He had believed all of his father’s follies had been cut off, so when he learned of one Miss Katrina Wickersham and the handsome
sum which she had received on a regular basis over the last ten years, he had rearranged his travel plans to include an unannounced stop at Talcott House, home of the aforementioned Miss Wickersham.

  Finally the carriage turned up the long drive to Talcott House. The buildings of the estate were all well-kept and the grounds included an assortment of gardens filled with colorful blossoms in many different shapes and sizes. Although he had no specific expectations about the appearance of the estate to which he traveled, he had to admit that he was taken aback by the attractiveness of what he observed.

  When the carriage stopped he alighted quickly and glanced around taking in the ambiance of the estate. It was strangely relaxing, as well as intriguing to him. As he headed toward the front door intending to use his walking stick to rap upon it to announce his arrival, laughter coming from the side yard caught his attention. It sounded as though quite a collection of young ladies were gathered there based upon the volume and variety of voices he heard. Curious, he took a most uncharacteristic action and diverted himself from his planned route and moved around the building to peek into the garden.

  He gasped when he took in the scene before him. At least a dozen young ladies, all quite well-groomed, were gathered together in a diversity of activities. While there was nothing wrong with young ladies engaged in outdoor entertainments, he encouraged fresh air and sunshine for all, he could not help but notice that although these young ladies were clearly of a marriageable age, their dress and demeanor depicted persons who were much younger.

  Two girls enjoyed swings hung from a large tree while two others pushed them from behind. Rather than having their hair piled atop their heads, as was the style for proper young ladies, he noticed all of the young women had their hair in braids or pigtails. The two girls on the swings both sported braids which flew out behind them as they moved higher and higher into the air.