Reunion (Hunter's Ridge Book 3) (12 page)

"We know," Franny said with her own soft smile. "It's just that you look so tired."

"I'm fine," Lucas assured her, standing and then squatting in front of the settee where both girls sat. "I am never too tired to take care of anything my girls need—be it to apply a much needed spanking, a shoulder to cry on, or ears to listen. I promise, Lucy will be just fine." He stood and bent to kiss their cheeks before leaving the library. It was time to deal with his little one. The faster he took care of her discipline, the faster she'd be forgiven and the household could return to normal. It still amazed him that no matter which girl under his roof was facing discipline, the others were always sympathetic to the miscreant's welfare.

Opening his door, his eyes immediately went to his left. Lucy was standing as required, her pale bare bottom pushed out into the room. It wouldn't be pale long. Removing his coat and vest, he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, all without speaking. Looking at the wardrobe that housed the many implements he used on his naughty girl, he shook his head. He wouldn't open the doors today.

Sitting on the leather chair in front of the fire, he readied himself. "Come here, Lucy." She appeared before him, her hands twisting in the fabric of her skirts, her bare toes curling into the carpet. He helped her step from the drawers puddled at her ankles. "Go into the water closet and bring me your hairbrush."

As she turned to obey, Lucas couldn't help but smile. It was a dichotomy of innocence and guilt. From the front, she looked like a properly dressed young lady. However, the moment she turned, her bare bottom was presented, and he could see she was clenching and unclenching the plump globes. She returned to stand before him, the heavy wooden brush in her hand. Lifting it, she held it out to him.

"I'm sorry, Papa." Her voice was soft. "I shouldn't have gone outside. I shouldn't have gone to the barn. It was wrong."

"Yes, it was," Lucas agreed as he took the brush, and used his free hand to take one of hers, guiding her down across his knee. Lifting his other leg, he crossed both of hers in a silent communication that the spanking was going to be having her kicking her legs unless they were contained. "Give me your hands."

Once her hands were behind her back, he gripped them in one of his. "Let's heat this bottom up, shall we?" He didn't expect an answer and didn't wait for one. Placing the brush on the table by the chair, he began with his hand.

Smack…smack…smack…
resounded again and again as his palm connected to her backside. He continued, each smack crisp and distinct as he covered the entire surface of her bottom, not pausing until her skin was flushed pink and her soft mews had turned into louder moans. Picking up the brush, he rubbed it against her flesh. "I am extremely disappointed in you. You were well aware of what I meant, and yet tried to twist my words around to justify your actions. You knew that when the weather clears, I would escort you to see Delilah. Instead, you made a conscious decision to disobey your Papa. A decision that might have had horrid consequences if Diablo had got away from Jasper. I will not tolerate deliberate disobedience, Lucille."

"I'm so sorry, Papa."

"Then let this lesson remind you what happens to little girls who don't wish to be obedient." The brush lifted and landed with a solid
thwack
, bouncing off her bottom, leaving a white oval that quickly turned red.
Thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack…

Each stroke left its mark, her bottom quickly turning from pink to red, her tears flowing as she began to wail and sob. The brush delivered a much harder stroke than his hand, and her bottom was soon bucking and churning over his lap.

"Be still, Lucille. Prove you are sorry by accepting your paddling. Relax your buttocks and push your naughty bottom up for your Papa," he said.

Lucy's sobs filled the room even as she loosened her clenched buttocks. He continued to rub the brush against her hot flesh until she pushed her hips up.
Thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack!
Ten swats were delivered rapidly to her left cheek, followed immediately by ten to her right.

"Please, Papa, please, it hurts!"

"I suggest you stop your pleas and be thankful you are not even now upstairs on your pony. Come Sunday, you'll think this paddling is nothing but a few love pats."

Another ten painted the back of her left thigh, her right receiving the same. When the brush stopped falling, her entire backside was a bright apple red, the skin radiating the warmth he'd promised. Tipping her forward, he gave each of her sit-spots their own spanking, her bucking body challenging the hold he had on her wrists and her legs. A final solid swat was given in the center of her bottom before the brush rested.

"It would be a shame for your sister and Uncle Edward to arrive only to find you restricted to your nursery," he told her. Though she had been sobbing before, this threat had her wailing. Lucas waited until she had calmed a little before continuing. "If you ever leave the house or enter the barn again without asking permission to do so, you'll spend a week in your crib in nothing but your nappy and a gown. You'll take every meal through a bottle, and you'll get this hiney spanked every single day. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Papa, yes," Lucy wailed, her body wilting over his knees, her braids brushing the floor. "Please, Papa, don't do that. I-I am so sorry."

"Think about that as you stand in your corner. Keep that bottom pushed up and out. I don't want to have to remind you how you are to present your spanked arse." Setting her on her feet, he placed the brush on the table as she swiped her cheeks. Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped her face and held the cloth to her nose as she blew it. Patting her hot bottom, he asked, "Still cold?"

"No, Sir," she said, her face flushing.

"Good, go now."

Lucy walked back to her corner, pressing her nose hard against the wall, her aching rear pushed up and out. Lucas sat before the fire, his eyes on his wife. He had no doubt that she was not thinking about her hot bottom—she was far more likely to be thinking about the price she'd pay on Sunday, as well as the possible loss of time with her twin. She'd been looking forward to this visit for months, but if that was what it took to teach her that it was pure folly to disobey simple rules, he would restrict her to her nursery. An entire day was probably not necessary to make his point, but it would be up to his little one to decide if a single hour was worth being naughty.

He stood and walked over to his jacket to retrieve the ginger root. Then, returning to his seat by the fireplace, he used his knife, slowing peeling the ginger, flicking the skin into the flames. The room begin to fill with the distinctive scent of it, and he heard Lucy make a soft moan—yet her bottom remained high in the air. Once the root was peeled, he spent several minutes shaping it into a plug. He left the end small and tapered, cutting away the flesh for a bit before shaping a large bulge that would be difficult for her to accept and make it impossible for her to push the plug from her bottom. His knife cut lines across the surface to ensure the irritating juices would be able to seep from the root to be absorbed into her sensitive tissues. Once he was satisfied with his carving, he called to his wife.

Lucy came to him, her eyes flicking to the large root in his hand before dropping to her feet.

"Turn around, bend over and open your cheeks," he said.

She did as he instructed, her small hands pulling apart the hot globes of her arse to expose her tightly puckered bottom-hole. Lucas put a hand on her hip as he placed the tip of the bulb against her opening. "Push back, Lucy."

He ignored her mew as he began to press the root into her bottom. Though she had accepted larger items into her passage, the cold, slippery root's insertion was something her mind had a difficult time accepting.

"Papa, please. Papa, it's cold!"

"Hush, it will be warm soon enough. Push back and open your bottom."

She let out a sharp cry as he gave it a firm push, until the root was successfully inserted and her bottom-hole closed tightly around the flange he'd left unpeeled. Patting her backside, he guided her to stand at the side of his chair. "You'll make your penance now. Instead of kneeling, you'll bend over the arm of the chair. I wish to see not only your red bottom, but to ensure your root remains deeply inside."

Lucy nodded, and didn't resist as he positioned her. Once her head was hovering over his lap, her abdomen on the thick, cushioned arm, her legs spread, and her tiptoes taking her weight, she lifted her bottom, reached to unfasten his trousers, and pulled his cock free.

Placing his hand on her hip, his fingers running across her hot skin, Lucas watched her hands encircle his shaft and her head lower as her mouth engulfed his cockhead.

As her head bobbed up and down his shaft, his hands ran across her backside, his fingers pressing against the ginger root. He knew it the moment the juices began to seep from their home to move into her tissues. Her bottom began to twist, her mews audible despite her mouth being filled with his cock.

"You are to focus on making a proper penance, Lucille, not on your discomfort. Stop squirming and start suckling. I want you to swallow my cock as you've been taught."

It took another few minutes before he felt her throat muscles working around the head of his cock, accepting it inside the slim column of her throat. He didn't push up, didn't attempt to seat himself further. This was her penance, and her responsibility to perform to the very best of her abilities. They'd spent months improving her skills until she was capable of obeying his desire, her nose buried in the wiry hairs of his pubis, her throat working to bring him to pleasure.

He felt her swallowing again and again, the muscles rippling against his shaft. One small hand moved to cradle and roll his testicles, squeezing gently as she worked him in her mouth. Her tongue swept along his shaft. He could hear her taking in oxygen through her nose, expelling it against his skin. Feeling his balls drawing up, his shaft swelling in her throat, he tensed for a delicious moment before he began to erupt. Jet after jet of his seed was swallowed, her lips remaining tightly sealed, her bottom no longer squirming as she worked to accept every drop he gave her. As she'd been taught, she squeezed his balls gently as if to encourage any remaining seed to journey up his shaft and into her throat.

Once she was positive his release was done, she slowly pulled back, her tongue working to swipe every inch of his shaft, to remove and swallow any lingering droplets. His cock was clean by the time she looked up, her lips still pursed around his cockhead, awaiting permission to release.

"You may release."

She did so and then kissed the very tip before tucking him back into his trousers. Once she was done, Lucas drew her onto his lap, her plugged bottom taking the place of her bobbing head.

"Thank you, Papa," she said softly. "Thank you for spanking and paddling my bottom. Thank you for my plug and thank you for accepting my penance."

"You are welcome, little one," he said, bending forward and gently kissing her lips. "You will retain your plug until tonight, but you are forgiven. Let today teach you that when Papa tells you to stay inside, he means it."

"Yes, Sir."

"And, Kitten, let Sunday's ride teach you the folly of disobeying my specific orders."

"Yes, Papa."

After he'd cuddled her for several minutes, he set her onto her feet and led her across the hall to her nursery. When she was dressed in a fresh pair of drawers, stockings and shoes, he patted her bottom. "Your plug should stay inside. If you feel it slipping, you may ask me for help in reseating it."

"Yes, Papa." Her face was flushed but her eyes were free of guilt and sadness as he kissed her again before they went downstairs to join the family for dinner.

Chapter Eight

"Come away from the window, Lucy." Lucas shook his head as he heard her sigh. "Wishing they'd appear will not make it so, little one."

"I know, Papa, but you said they'd arrive yesterday," she said, going to him.

Once she was close enough, he pulled her down onto his lap. "No, what I said was that they might arrive yesterday. Traveling by carriage is different than by train. There is no set schedule to keep."

Lucy leaned against him, her hand lying against his chest. "Do you think they might be stuck in the snow? What if they are, and they freeze to death?"

"Stop fretting. You're going to make yourself ill. I'm sure that your Uncle Edward is wise enough not to travel when it's unsafe."

"In that case, they might be closer to Wintercrest than Hunter's Ridge. It was a stupid idea not to take the train."

"You are about to cross a thin line, young lady. I understand you are disappointed that Louisa is not yet here, but you must trust that her Papa will make the proper decisions. Being able to conduct business and meet with several clients on the way is one reason they can afford to spend several weeks visiting."

"Yes, Papa," she said quietly. His tone told her that he was quite serious, and she instantly felt a bit guilty. She knew Uncle Edward would never put her sister in danger. "I'm sorry, you're right."

Tilting her chin up, he bent to kiss the tip of her nose. "Little one, I had to spank you again last night for your attitude. I'd hate to think you need another trip across my lap so soon."

Lucy squirmed, and his spoken reminder seemed to make her tender bottom throb—as if to remind her she definitely did not want another trip across his knees.

Though not a day passed when she didn't think about the price she still had to pay, she seemed unable to be good. She'd thrown a small fit after supper when her Papa had mentioned that it looked like they might have another snowstorm brewing. Disregarding his warning to settle down, she'd chosen instead to march about the room, stating that the holidays would be long over before her sister arrived. She'd flung herself in front of the fire and continued to pout. When Ettie suggested a game, she'd berated her, asking how she could think of having fun when her sister was most likely cold and miserable in the old, drafty carriage.