A Spank in Time Read online

  Spank in Time

  By

  Blushing Mischief

  ©2013 by Blushing Books® and Blushing Mischief

  Copyright © 2013 by Blushing Books® and Blushing Mischief

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  Blushing Mischief

  Spank in Time

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-969-8

  Cover Design by Owlight Designs

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Table of Contents

  A Good Life

  by A.C. Masterson

  Corporal Punishment

  by A.T. Quinn

  A Parisian Dance

  by P J Perryman

  Parting Charity

  By Sadie Dane

  Rules of Engagement

  By

  Jill Glass

  The Wedding Night

  by Sara Peal

  A Good Life

  by A.C. Masterson

  Emily was the first to hear the news, and when she did, her heart sank: the Lord of the House was coming home.

  That wasn’t to say that she told anyone of her personal feelings on the matter, of course. Her Lord Husband -- the Honorable Lord Duncan Ellingsworth -- spent most of his time at the Royal Court in London these days. There was more talk of succession everywhere with each new day, but if Duncan was coming home, that either meant the fervor at Court had died down, or her Lord Husband was escaping from that fervor for a few days before his responsibilities called him back again.

  It was just after sunset when Duncan arrived at last, sweeping in without an ounce of decorum whatsoever, and leaving muddy footprints all over her nice, clean floor to boot. “Finally!” he said, dropping into a chair near the fireplace. “I was starting to think I’d never get here.”

  Emily drew herself up and set her shoulders. “Welcome home, my Lord Husband.”

  Even at twenty years older than she, it was still easy for Emily to call him handsome. Duncan was very tall, with strong shoulders and black hair streaked through with the creeping inevitability of gray. His face was clean-shaven, but she knew its rough texture all too well, the way it would scrape or softly scratch against her tender flesh. She didn’t try to think about that, however — no reason to swallow the tonic until you had to.

  “Always so formal, my dear Emily.” He smiled, but there was a familiar glimmer of wicked intent in his eyes. This was typical of their encounters together: she stuck to formalities, and he tried to coax her out of them. He always won - damn the man - but she still put up a good fight, all the same.

  Emily nodded. “Of course, my Lord. Such is the right of your office, after all.” When he didn’t answer, she continued: “You seem glad to be home.”

  “If you only knew,” he said, removing his boots and stretching out his feet for the fire’s heat. Autumn had come early that year, and the nights were brisk. “All of this succession nonsense is chapping my nethers. I don’t have the slightest interest in higher office of any kind, much less the kind that’ll put me dead in a ditch somewhere.”

  “I’m relieved to hear you say so.” That much was the truth; Emily had managed somehow to make a life for herself while completely out of her element. As a tanner’s daughter, she’d been the envy of scullery maids and farm girls for leagues around when Lord Ellingsworth had offered his hand in marriage to her, a completely undeserving commoner. He was a bachelor and an orphan besides, having lost a father to war and a mother to the Plague a few decades before, but since he was neither a buggerer nor a pederast, duty seemed to dictate that he choose a wife for himself. Emily had, by simple fate and a luck she’d never asked for, been given a life most could only dream of. It was a good life, but it wasn’t a life she’d ever wanted.

  “I suppose my Lord is ready for supper, then? The kitchen staff’s been in a frenzy all day preparing for your arrival.”

  He waved one hand and masked a yawn behind the other. “Not tonight. I believe we’ll retire for the evening instead.”

  Emily gave a start and was glad he had his back to her. It wouldn’t do for him to see her startle so easily. “But, my Lord—”

  “It will keep, Wife.” Now he stood up, leaving behind his sodden boots to take her arm. He felt very large and almost menacing in a way, but she refused to shrink back. She boldly looked into his eyes, so gray and clear in contrast to hers, which were muddy brown. They matched her hair, and she’d always had a good word for both: plain. What he’d seen in her was still a mystery to her, even after two decades of marriage.

  Emily tried to reason with him. “The servants will talk, my Lord.”

  “They always do,” Duncan said. His smile had a sly edge to it, one she was sure she didn’t like. “Come with me.”

  Their quarters were on the upper floor, and they walked together, arm in arm, as though they were the happiest couple and she was thrilled to have him home. They didn’t speak to one another. He was a difficult man to read, and she felt a quivering in her belly — of fear, and of other things no proper woman should mention.

  Once they were inside of their bedroom, Emily stood stock-still and kept her hands clenched tight at her waist as she listened to him lock the door, sealing her fate and blocking any immediate chance to escape. She stared straight ahead, keeping her nerves under control and trying to squash that unwanted tremor in her stomach. But when Duncan touched her bare shoulder, sliding his hand over to cup h
is fingers at the nape of her neck, she visibly shivered, even in spite of her efforts to conceal it. She didn’t love the man, but neither did she loathe him if only because she knew what those fingers were capable of. It was the greatest kindness he ever gave her: pleasure of the body, if not the heart.

  “I’ve missed you, Emily,” he said.

  “You needn’t trouble yourself so, my Lord.”

  “I hope that someday you’ll not be so formal with me all the time, little one.” He’d called her that for years, ever since their first meeting. He loved the title; she hated it. “I expect that you may even let down your guard tonight, as well.” Bastard. Of course she would — they both knew it.

  Emily closed her eyes as he began to unfasten the row of buttons down her back. In her younger years, she would’ve needed something sturdy to hold herself upright; now she held herself up straight through sheer force of will. “I’ll resist you,” she whispered.

  “Mm, yes.” It seemed the vocal equivalent of a shrug. “You always do.”

  Emily opened her eyes again when his rough fingers slid her dress down, baring her shoulders. She caught the fabric above her breasts and looked back at him. “Then why do you persist?” she said in another whisper.

  Duncan leaned in close, reaching around to lay his hands across hers. “Because your resistance is what I look forward to the most.”

  The air felt very cold to Emily as he slid the garment down her body, leaving it as a mess of fine fabric and brocade on the floor, like a discarded halo around her feet. Emily had lost her shyness and shame long ago when it came to her husband. Covering herself did no good, since he’d order her to take her hands away anyhow.

  “You may assume the position, little one.”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  Duncan pushed her, and she was forced to step forward or fall flat on her face. He forced her to step next to the bed, and after another moment of hard pressure against her shoulders, she bowed her head and placed her hands upon the coverlet.

  “Much better,” he said.

  Perhaps Emily did have some shame still in her, for she felt it flush within her cheeks — the upper ones, which were hidden by her long hair. “Thank you, my Lord,” she said, bowing her head.

  The first strike was sudden, as always. The slap was loud as his hand connected against her backside, making her flinch, but she didn’t cry out. She stared down at her hands, flat with fingers outstretched — so long as she showed no reaction, the victory was hers.

  At times Duncan was brash, wicked, or even cruel with what he said to her, making her blush furiously with talk of just what he intended to do — and often did — to her, but this time he was silent. The slaps continued, never in the same place, but soon the familiar hum and heat made the room seem less chilly than it had been at the start. Her ass was growing hot, and now her fingers began to twitch with the new blows.

  “Always so stubborn,” Duncan said. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, which contrasted sharply against the painful spanking he subjected her to. “Even though we both know how this always ends.” He leaned in close to her ear, brushing against her arm — he’d removed his shirt at some point during her ordeal. “Must you always resist me, little one?”

  She dared to look over at him. He was fully naked, in fact, but that shouldn’t have surprised her: Duncan was very good at handling multiple tasks when it suited him. His manhood was nestled in thick, coarse curls of black hair, still soft and limp between his opened legs, but she knew that would change before long. Emily hated herself when she shivered again at the memories, and she had to swallow to find her voice. “You know full well I will,” she said, her voice tense and a bit overheated. “Why must you play this game every time you desire my company? Isn’t there some pretty little strumpet off in London you could ply with your sweet words instead of subjecting me to them every time you return?”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t have to look very hard for one if I wanted to find another woman.” He shrugged and stood upright before spanking her again. That time the strike was especially hard, and it earned him a gasp from her as one hand trembled violently and curled tight in the blankets. Duncan slid his hand down the crack of her ass and gently urged her legs apart — Emily complied without resistance.

  His other hand reached into her hair and curled around her neck. Duncan stretched his fingers wide and began gently kneading and massaging the muscles there. It felt good, and Emily let her head rise for a moment, closing her eyes as he continued speaking. “But just because I can do something doesn’t mean I want to — when it comes down to it, you’re a far more entertaining choice of prey, Emily.”

  His fingers felt blessedly cool between her thighs as they slowly crept towards the soft cleft between them. She ignored her own wetness, channeling the embarrassment of it into her frustration at him. “Must I always be prey to you? Or does this mean you’ll finally devour me and put me out of my misery at last when you’re through with me?”

  “Unlikely.” Emily felt the familiar heat in her lower belly as he caressed her, sliding his fingers through soft, chestnut curls and to the tender flesh underneath them. “I’m sure plenty of predators toy with their prey instead of jumping in for the kill right away. And haven’t I made these years pleasant for you, after all? Haven’t I given you a good life?”

  Emily didn’t hesitate. “Of course, though such kindness seems ill-suited for one such as you.” Now his other hand left her neck, sliding down her arm to take one of her own hands and guide it around to touch him, to feel the shaft which began to warm and thicken just from the brush of her fingertips. She knew what he wanted, what she was supposed to do, so she did it. Her fingers curled and cupped him in a firm grip, rolling the pad of her thumb across the tip of flesh that would penetrate and claim her soon.

  “Oh, I can be very kind when it suits me.” Duncan gently pushed her upon the bed and onto her knees, and was right behind her. Through an open window, she could see that the moon was a faint sliver in the sky, which spared her from having to look over at him. They were just a pair of shadows in the dark, but she could both see and feel the effects of her handiwork, how his flesh was forming, growing, swelling in her grip. The way she touched him was so blatant, so lewd and wicked.

  Soon they were seated in front of one another, each of them touching, stroking and sharing their caresses. Emily could feel his finger sliding in and out of her, coaxing that fire to burn her from the inside out. She wanted to resist, to fight back and to fight him, but the sensations she so loathed were the same ones that she wanted more of. That was the true devilry of it: he always wore her down, made her betray her own instincts of not wanting him at all, and tonight was especially bad because she’d already been expecting him — she’d had all day to revisit the memories of pleasure and pain again and again. No matter how she’d tried to quash such thoughts, they were never far away for very long.

  Duncan suddenly turned and pulled her closer to him, forcing her to move over, to reach down with one hand and catch her balance. That was her next mistake, for he caught hold of that hand, and she knew better than to remove the other hand from his cock— he wouldn’t allow her to pull away or let go of him. “For the time being, little one, I think you should be kind to me instead.”

  Emily cursed at herself for not being quick enough to escape this trap. All she could do then was to follow his urging that pulled her onto her knees next to him. Duncan pushed her head down, down towards the proof of his lust, leaving her warm ass raised up and the proof of her arousal exposed, as if he intended to show her off.

  Duncan had taught her what to do, how to please him in that way, and she had little choice in the matter then. The smell of him — of moisture, musk and a touch of sweat — was neither pleasant nor distasteful, even if he hadn’t taken the time to clean himself after the long ride home. Emily opened her mouth and took the swelling tip into it while turning and twisting one hand around the shaft, sliding it up and down t
he hardening length of hungry flesh. Her other hand pulled and kneaded on the dangling sac below, taking care not to pull too hard or handle it too roughly. The feel of his hand on her back and in her hair was a distraction, though not an unwelcome one.

  In moments he was flush and full in her mouth, and her head began to move up and down by the gentle urges of his hand. She pushed back her long hair, giving him an unobstructed view as she coated his heavy shaft with the moisture of her mouth. Up and down she went, feeling his flesh glide along her tongue and the roof of her mouth, reaching all the way to the back of her throat before pulling back and repeating the motions over and over again. In this manner she gave him pleasure, and to her own impatience and annoyance she could feel her own heat building in her belly, and the continuing wetness gather between her legs as her juices flowed more and more.

  Emily expected him to pull away from her at any moment, to stop the lovely teasing and finally take her in the proper fashion — it wouldn’t do to spill his seed into the barren vessel of her mouth, after all. And yet, in spite of that, his breathing grew harder and heavier as the moments passed, and the slurping sounds of her mouth were all she had to give him in return, save for the occasional humming or moaning that vibrated against the shaft between her lips — he enjoyed that, after all.

  When she felt his hands on her she suspected that he was ready to take her, but her eyes opened wide and she gasped in shock as he picked her up and spun her around — not to be mounted or even to lie under him, but to drag her body across his own and straddle his face instead. She was forcibly reminded of the rough texture of his chin and cheeks as she felt his tongue slide greedily across the warm, slippery lips of her womanhood. His cock fell out of her mouth as she moaned again, catching it in her fingers as she protested. “My Lord, y-you mustn’t!” Why couldn’t the man simply allow her to fulfill her duties and be done with it?