Reunion (Hunter's Ridge Book 3) (24 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Lucas allowed Edward to step into the room before him. Turning, he closed the door before looking towards the center of the room. It was hard not to gasp—a ray of sunlight streamed through the window and fell directly upon the girls. Their golden hair seemed to glow even brighter, soft wavy curls flowing down their backs. They presented the perfect picture of two angels, kneeling in penance. Neither girl moved; each accustomed by now to the requirements of every atonement week.

Edward stood beside his friend, his own gaze on the two kneeling women. Lucas remained still and silent as Edward's head turned from the women to study the room. Lucas had spent time and much thought installing the pieces he'd chosen. Nothing was up against a wall; every place where a naughty girl could be positioned was given enough space to allow for any strap, whip, birch rod, switch or cane to be swung freely, nothing allowed to obstruct a Papa's swing before the implement connected with an offered bare bottom.

A set of actual stocks, custom built for Lucy's small stature, stood to his left. Indentations where a girl's neck or hands would be placed into smooth half-moons were lined with fur. When the top was lowered to trap the miscreant, a wedge would be inserted to ensure that no amount of struggling would allow release. There were bolts in the floor, leather straps and fur-lined cuffs available to restrain legs from kicking.

Another wall showcased a spanking bench. The slope of the padded top guaranteed a head would be lower than a bottom, straps on each corner again protected hands and feet from being damaged. It wasn't necessary to punish such areas. God had provided well-padded backsides and tender thighs to accept the chastisement offered by items such as a paddle, hairbrush or other implement. Across the way, an oaken barrel stood. It sat on a frame that would allow it to roll forward a bit as a stroke was given, and yet would not be able to topple a naughty girl forward onto the floor.

The last area held what Lucas considered his masterpiece. Edward had told him of his plans for Louisa to discover a punishment pony of her own once they returned to Wintercrest, but Lucas knew the one Edward was even now studying was a truly magnificent example of what he'd envisioned for his own little lady. It wasn't simply a wooden structure with thick pillows strapped to one end. He grinned when Edward turned to look directly at him, his eyebrow raised even as he nodded his approval. Lucas bowed his head, accepting the silently given praise. Of course, being an excellent horseman, and expanding Hunter's Ridge to include breeding thoroughbreds, it had not required much thought to know he wanted his own child/bride to have another pony to ride.

The piece was made out of wood, but covered in black leather. Thick reins hung from the head, which actually held a bit between white teeth. A saddle, polished to a high sheen, was on the back. It wasn't a saddle in which one would sit upright for the ride. It had no pommel to cling to, nor was it exactly level. The front sloped down a bit so that a seated bottom was presented more prominently. Stirrups hung down the sides and buckles showed where they could be lengthened or shortened to be the perfect size for a little one's feet. The horse had no real rear; the saddle sat only a few inches from the end of the piece.

Racks above each piece held anything a Papa could want to make sure his naughty girl would feel properly punished before she was released. The only items that would not garner another glance were the two leather chairs and the two ottomans that sat in one corner, a small table between the two.

The men had discussed what was to happen, and when Lucas removed his coat and hung it on a hook by the door, Edward did the same. They moved across the room to each sit in one of the leather chairs.

"Come here, girls," Lucas said.

Both girls pushed gracefully to their feet, small hands smoothing down the fronts of their gowns in identical movements before they took the steps necessary to carry them across the room to stand before the men. No matter what Molly or anyone else might think, Lucas knew instantly which one was his Kitten. Her eyes might be the identical, violet blue hue of her twin's, but the look in them as she lifted her head and gazed at him—the look that stated she was feeling guilt, a bit of fear, as well as desire—marked her as his.

"Are you ready to make your confession?"

"Yes, Sir," they chorused.

Lucas had to smile. They might be sharing the room, but needed to make their individual confessions. "Louisa, since you are a guest, you may go first if you wish."

"Thank you, Uncle Lucas," Louisa said, her voice soft and respectful as she glanced at him before giving her Papa her entire attention. No other sound was made as she listed her transgressions, confessed to her naughty attitude and choices. "I'm very sorry, Papa. Please help me make my atonement and accept my penance."

"I shall, little lady."

After his assurance, Lucy made her own confession. "I'm so sorry, Papa. I hope you can forgive me after I've made my atonement and my penance."

"I promise you'll know I have," Lucas said. "Go to the wall and bring me your paddle. I'll give you a hand spanking and a paddling to warm your bottom for its atonement."

*****

"Yes, Papa." Turning away, Lucy walked to the wall and lifted a wooden paddle from its hook. It was one he used every week, and as always, she flushed and felt the skin on her clenched buttocks crawl as she read the words engraved on the back. 'For Lucy's Naughty Bottom'—no matter how many times she'd take it to her Papa, those four words prepared her mind and her heart for what was about to occur. Of course, knowing it was about to bite into her bum also told her that reflection was done; it was time to accept the physical requirements of her Papa's discipline.

Lucas had moved the ottoman to allow him to sit forward enough so that his lap was free to hold his wife. Lucy stood waiting as he rolled up his sleeves, that action again preparing her emotionally to go across his knee. Glancing across the space she saw her sister, also holding a paddle retrieved from another rack, her Uncle Edward arranging his sleeves before opening his legs a bit and patting his right thigh.

"Lucy, focus on me," Lucas instructed, drawing her eyes back to him. She felt her cheeks flush as he patted his left thigh.

Both women moved to drape themselves across muscled thighs, their hair sweeping the floor as palms were planted only inches from the others'. Lucy felt the panels of her gown being parted and lifted to drape over her shoulders. Giving her sister one last glance, she closed her eyes as she felt her Papa's hand stroke across her bared bottom.

"Are you ready, Kitten?"

He asked this every week, and every week she fought against saying that no, she wasn't. Would he pull her up, roll down his sleeves and put the paddle aside if she ever gave that answer? She knew she'd never know, and her soul knew she'd never ask him to forego this weekly ritual. It was a time she needed, an hour or so in which she truly thought about more than her behavior. She thought about the vows she'd given this man, and she accepted that she needed every stroke, every bite of pain to fulfill her in ways she'd never understand. Taking a deep, calming breath, she gave the only answer her heart would allow. "Yes, Papa. Please may I make my atonement?"

"Yes, my love, you may." By the time Lucas picked up the paddle, Lucy was not only not thinking of her twin, she was praying that her Papa would consider her properly warmed with only a few strokes. His hand was as hard as any paddle, and her bottom was already burning.

Crack…crack…crack…
The room echoed as crack after crack sounded, the men subconsciously or not alternating the strokes so that one crack led immediately into another. Though the girls had managed to withhold their cries during the majority of their hand spankings, it didn't take a dozen from the paddles before they were both wailing.

"Oh, please… please, Papa," Lucy cried, as hard strokes began to be applied one after another in the same spot before moving to give an adjacent spot its own five strokes. "Owww, oh, it hurts!"

"Settle down, Lucille," Lucas said, his tempo never wavering. "I still have a great deal of your naughty bottom to paddle."

His words had her wailing louder, though her ears could hear more than her own notes. She realized her sister was making an identical sound as her own rear was reddened.

She was still crying when she was tipped further forward, her hand finding her sister's. Fingers clenched as sit-spots were paddled until they were bright red, ensuring the girls would be reminded every time they sat down for a day or so of what happened to naughty little ones.

Lucy felt her Papa's hand running across her scalded cheeks once the paddling was done. When her sobs had softened into sniffles, he guided her off his knee to stand before him.

"Keep your gown up, sweetie," Lucas instructed before holding a handkerchief to her nose. "Blow for me." She did as she was told, continuing to hiccup, her hands holding the panels of her gown apart as he'd ordered, her crimson bottom framed by the stark white of the atonement gown.

"Go to Diabla," Lucas went on, turning her towards the black horse.

"Yes, Papa." Turning from him, she walked towards the version of the black stallion he'd had made for her. Diabla wasn't a proper name, but one he'd christened the horse in her punishment parlor. She knew his choice of name was to remind her that this wooden version would be the only black stallion she'd ever ride.

"Choose whatever you feel will best serve your little one," Lucas told Edward before he stood. "If you wish, you may wait for the horse."

"Thank you," Edward said, helping his own wife off his lap and helping her to blow her nose after she'd calmed a bit.

Lucas left the couple, walking to the rack to rehang the paddle, making sure the side with the words was visible. He'd heard his wife state that just seeing it helped put her in the proper frame of mind for her discipline. Lucy was obediently waiting as he walked towards her.

Lucy blushed hotly as he reached for the ends of the ribbons holding her gown closed, tugging gently until all three had come undone.

"No need to become tangled in the cloth as you ride," he said, as he pulled the soft fabric off her shoulders—where it slid down to be trapped by her arms as she'd not yet released the panels she'd been required to hold open. Lucy could feel her Papa's eyes on her as they gazed at her breasts. Her nipples had been pebbled from the moment she'd heard the door opening to admit him. At his gaze, she felt both draw up tighter, their normal, soft pink coloring darkening into the hue of ripe raspberries, protruding from the areolas surrounding them.

Her body quivered as he bent forward, trapping her left nipple in his mouth, the very tip of his tongue flicking back and forth until she wanted to drop her gown and press his head harder to her. His head lifted and his smile had her insides turning into a pool of lust, the liquid seeping from her quim as he gave her right nipple its own kiss.

"Perhaps next week I'll clamp your sweet little berries before you ride. Today, however, they shall remain free to bounce as you trot."

His words painted an instant picture in her mind and her cheeks colored hotly. She knew she'd be very conscious of every bounce, every jiggle of her breasts once she was seated in the saddle and her ride began. When he moved to cover her hands with his own and took the fabric from her, she released it to allow the gown to fall to the floor. The stiffening of her body was not in reaction to his scooping her into his arms—it was because of the distinctive snap of leather across bare flesh and the sharp cry that accompanied the stroke. She looked towards the other side of the room to see her uncle lifting the leather strap he'd chosen to continue Louisa's punishment. She could see nothing of her sister's face; only her spread legs, ankles held in soft cuffs, and her lifted bottom where she was bent at a ninety degree angle, her wrists and neck securely held in the stocks. As the strap landed again, the jerk of her sister's bum and her cry gave Lucy another picture to consider. This was what she looked like when in the stocks, this was the view her Papa saw as he whipped her backside.

"Focus on me, Kitten." Her Papa's reminder drew her back and she nodded, embarrassed that he'd had to repeat the phrase. He lifted her onto the saddle, the cool leather causing her to gasp, and she felt embarrassed at the fact that it felt comforting against her hot core. She watched as he adjusted the stirrups, raising them high. Any comfort she felt disintegrated as he guided first one foot and then the other into the stirrups. Her knees were almost as high as her hips, the position splaying her thighs wide on the saddle.

"Take the reins," Lucas instructed, drawing them up until she could take them. As she'd been taught, she wrapped the leather around her hand before closing her fists. She'd pull hard on each one, yet knew that to release was cause for an additional amount of time spent riding.

Though she was still sitting upright, when Lucas bent down and removed the blocks of wood that held the horse immobile, she bent forward, readying herself for the command she knew would be issued.

She felt the horse dip forward a bit as the final block was removed, the thick curved runners making no sound as they rocked against the floor. Her heart began to beat faster, her loins growing slicker as she tried not to look towards the wall. She didn't really wish to see which of the canes her Papa would choose.

"You may begin," Lucas said, giving her a bit of assistance with a heavy swat against the leather horse.

Lucy bent forward, her cheek resting on Diabla's mane as she rocked back and forth. Her feet pressed hard in the stirrups, pushing them forward so that her bottom was pushed back to her Papa. She hadn't been ordered to post, and the saddle had not been exchanged for the other he'd had made for her. This wasn't to be a ride that brought her indescribable—though embarrassing—pleasure. There was no phallus for her to mount as she posted up and down, forwards and back as her Papa flipped a leather riding crop against her bottom. Nor was her Papa behind her, his cock buried to the hilt inside of her as she rocked back and forth, his hands tugging and twisting on her nipples until she screamed in ecstasy and he filled her. No, this was a ride that ensured she'd not want to sit in another saddle for quite some time. A ride where her arse would be welted before she was allowed to dismount.