Marriage Training Page 7

  “So that’s a total of twenty. Now let me help you out of your dress.”

  The words punctured the bubble of Vivian’s purposefulness and she blinked rapidly, her eyes looking twice their normal size as she clutched at the neckline of her gown. Her heart was starting to beat rapidly, her mind still reeling from the idea of being spanked as a punishment. “My dress?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Banks said as she helped Vivian up and turned her around, nimbly beginning to undo the buttons. Moving like a puppet at the end of Mrs. Banks’s strings, Vivian’s movements were jerky as the shoulders and then waist of her dress gaped and the fabric slithered to the floor. “At the end of each day, I will come here, just like tonight, and you will sit in your punishment chair while we go over why you are being punished. Then you will stand and disrobe, as punishments are most effective when delivered to a bare bottom. Once you’re married, Lord Cranborne will be in charge of your correction. This is part of the special training he requires of his wife.” The last sentence was said with particular emphasis, reminding Vivian that she could change her mind about fulfilling that role, and almost challenging her to speak up and say that she had. For some reason, that only made Vivian more determined to stay silent.

  Blushing, trembling, Vivian stood still as Mrs. Banks began to unlace her corset. She didn’t understand what removing her corset had to do with being spanked on her bare bottom, but she didn’t protest either. With her stays gone, it was the work of a moment for Mrs. Banks to draw Vivian’s chemise over her head. Vivian found herself blushing as she was bared. She closed her eyes as Mrs. Banks drew down her drawers, leaving her standing in nothing but her stockings, exposing the bright tint of the hair obscuring her womanhood. Although she didn’t protest, she was certainly beginning to understand what Mrs. Cunningham had meant by telling her that she’d be uncomfortable.

  Vivian’s mind raced, as she tried to gather the remnants of her sensibility. She realized her days would be spent as an elegant young lady and her evenings . . . Her evenings would be spent entirely in dishabille while she was being spanked, of all things. By her husband. Eventually, anyway.

  Were the other young women in the class being spanked for their mistakes? She supposed she could ask Emily. But what if the answer was no? What if this was one of those things she wasn’t supposed to speak of to the other ladies? What would Emily think of her then? No, she couldn’t ask anyone else, not even her best friend. How humiliating for anyone to know she was being spanked like a child if they were not sharing the same punishment. Even if they were, Vivian wasn’t sure she would be able to bring herself to ask the question. Emily was the brash, outspoken one, not her.

  With one hand wrapped around her breasts, making the mounds of flesh bulge temptingly, and the other covering the shock of red hair at the apex of her thighs, Vivian made a delightful picture in nothing but her stockings with blue ribbon garters. Looking over her charge, who was obviously lost in her own thoughts, Mrs. Banks pursed her lips and decided to keep Vivian in her stockings. It was a look many men enjoyed, after all. Tomorrow she’d strip her down completely.

  Settling herself on the chair, Mrs. Banks gave Vivian a reassuring smile. “Come across my lap now, Vivian. Legs on one side, hands on the other, with your bottom in the air.”

  A little whimper escaped Vivian’s lips as she stepped forward automatically at Mrs. Banks’s direction, but she couldn’t bring herself to lay across the other woman’s lap. A spanking? And she would be expected to do this for Lord Cranborne eventually?

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Don’t dawdle, young lady, or we’ll add another five spankings to your count for the evening.” Mrs. Banks’s expression became sterner, almost as severe as Mrs. Cunningham’s.

  “Oh, please,” Vivian begged, face flaming red at the indignity of it all. “Can’t I do something else? Lines or—”

  “Tonight, and tonight only, I am affording you some leniency,” said Mrs. Banks sharply. “You are going to be punished, and you can either lay yourself across my lap or I can call for some assistance if you require.”

  Hot shame coursed through Vivian at the idea of anyone else seeing her in such circumstances, stripped to the skin and about to be spanked. Shame, and something else. Something that had been tickling at her senses ever since Mrs. Banks had ordered her to disrobe. Something that had been making her feel quite warm inside, especially when she thought about the earl in Mrs. Banks’s place. His lap was quite a bit broader than Mrs. Banks’s, and she could easily picture his dark gaze in her mind, compelling her to submit. Heat washed through her at the image.

  “Cum now, Vivian.” Mrs. Banks’s voice became more intimate, coaxing. Her stern blue gaze softened as Vivian hesitated, becoming more seductive. “The sooner we begin, the sooner it will be over and you can put your night rail on and go to sleep. I know you must be tired.”

  “I . . . I . . .” She wanted to run, but Mrs. Banks reached out and took Vivian’s hand, tugging her forward and over her lap. Vivian’s body went stiff, and she almost pushed away, but then Mrs. Banks began stroking her lower back and bottom, soothing her and amplifying her tension at the same time.

  Although Vivian didn’t know it, Mrs. Banks had spread her legs to approximate the size of a man’s lap and to support a good portion of Vivian’s body. The strokes of Mrs. Banks’s fingers felt good, and Vivian’s muscles relaxed, the warmth between her legs growing as Mrs. Banks’s fingers moved across her bare skin. Vivian bit her lower lip, closing her eyes and trying not to think about the tingling inside of her that had been growing ever since Mrs. Banks had told her to undress. Why was she having the same feelings she’d had when the earl had touched her, when he’d kissed her palm and held her hand? Why did Mrs. Banks’s soft touch stir such strange feelings inside of her? She didn’t want to be spanked . . . did she?

  A rippling shiver went up her spine as Mrs. Banks rubbed the palm of her hand over one of Vivian’s creamy cheeks, almost as if preparing the unblemished expanse of skin for the smack that was coming. Although Vivian couldn’t see her expression, the companion was smiling in anticipation of the coming punishment. There was always something special about delivering a young woman’s first spanking; it created an intimacy between the two participants like nothing else Mrs. Banks had ever experienced.

  When Mrs. Banks’s hand lifted, Vivian automatically tensed.

  “No, dear, you need to relax,” Mrs. Banks chided, her voice firm but gentle. Although she tried, Vivian’s muscles just wouldn’t cooperate. She buried her head against Mrs. Banks’s skirts as she felt the other woman sigh. “I was going to wait to put you in the proper position at a later date, but I think it will help you now. Spread your legs. More. More.” Cool air brushed against the inside of Vivian’s most intimate folds, and she shuddered, knowing how exposed she must look. “That’s it.”

  With her thighs spread so far apart it was difficult to clench her bottom muscles, although there was still a great amount of tension all throughout her body. A small cry escaped her when Mrs. Banks’s hand fell upon her bottom, even though the actual slap had not been very forceful. It was more surprising than painful.

  As it was her first punishment, none of her transgressions had been particularly great, and she had been fairly cooperative, Mrs. Banks was not going to be overly rough with her. If she’d had anything to compare it to, Vivian might have been quite grateful.

  Tears filled her eyes as Mrs. Banks’s hand came down three more times, so each of her pert bottom cheeks had two spanks apiece. It was more the humiliation of being spanked like a naughty child than actual pain that affected her, although the slaps did sting.

  Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “Oh!” Vivian cried out.

  Mrs. Banks’s hand returned to the same spots on each cheek, leaving two rosy prints in the center of each globe. While this was going to be a light spanking, comparatively, she did want Vivian to be able to feel it for at least a few hours afterwards, and that m
eant focusing her efforts rather than giving her bottom an all-over warming. Each subsequent slap meant the pink print turned a little darker and Vivian’s bottom burned a little hotter.

  As Mrs. Banks centered the next four slaps in the exact same manner, Vivian found herself kicking her legs in consternation. The tips of her toes dragged along the carpet as Mrs. Banks swiftly repositioned her so that her head dangled farther forward and she had no purchase from which to resist.

  “Stop! Please!” Tears fell onto the floor beneath her, her muscles clenching and bottom throbbing as the spanking continued. Despite Mrs. Banks’s slim appearance, Vivian was discovering the woman had an arm like iron as it lay across Vivian’s back, holding her firmly in place.

  Lord Cranborne had given instruction that he would expect Vivian to maintain her position when being disciplined from behind, but while he had her over his lap he rather enjoyed a more natural reaction. Therefore Mrs. Banks did not chide Vivian or slow the spanking; instead she adjusted herself to allow for Vivian’s struggling response and continued to rain down a flurry of hard smacks upon the protesting bottom.

  “Oh, please! Please, Mrs. Banks! Not so hard!” Vivian squealed and twisted, knowing her pleas were useless but making them anyway. The two spots on her bottom taking the brunt of the punishment felt as if they were on fire. Her helpless position made her feel even more like a wayward child, but the only way out of this was to call off her wedding to the earl, and Vivian couldn’t do that yet. Not on her first night of training. This was humiliating and painful, but not unbearable.

  “Nineteen, twenty,” Mrs. Banks counted out as the last two blows landed. Vivian quivered on her lap, crying but not sobbing, Mrs. Banks noted approvingly as she brushed a wisp of blonde hair out of her eyes. An honest reaction. She was pleased Vivian was not holding back her emotions, and also that she had not allowed herself to descend into hysterics over what was, in reality, a very light spanking. It was more Vivian’s emotions causing her to cry than any physical discomfort at this juncture. Rubbing her hand over Vivian’s bottom, she made soothing noises about what a good girl Vivian had been to take her punishment so well, smoothing some of the pain away with her gentle touch.

  Although part of Vivian wanted to return to her feet, she continued to lie across Mrs. Banks’s lap, taking comfort in the gentle touch of the woman’s hand. The irony in accepting comfort from her disciplinarian did not escape Vivian, but she was used to turning to Mrs. Banks for support.

  “Very good, Miss Stafford.” The clear approval in Mrs. Banks’s voice did more to reassure Vivian than anything else had thus far.

  When the woman’s hand slipped down to the crease between Vivian’s legs, she moaned in embarrassment. Mrs. Banks’s fingers found the damp evidence of a reaction Vivian would have never expected. The earl’s handsome visage and strong hands suddenly flashed through her mind, and she imagined that it was him touching her so boldly, the fantasy heightening her reaction.

  The smarting spanks and the helplessness of her position had aroused her, and she had no defense against the spark inside her that the school was skillfully revealing. If she’d had the opportunity for a conventional marriage, it was quite possible she would have been able to lie back and think of England during her husband’s infrequent visits to her bed, her passion remaining forever buried. Instead, those hidden passions were being slowly coaxed to the surface at the experienced hand of Mrs. Banks.

  A hand whose fingers dipped and swirled, making Vivian gasp and squeeze her thighs together—to no avail. The rude fingers pressed deeper between her pouting pussy lips, her twitching thighs rubbing the sensitive folds against the probing digits, creating such a deliciously pleasurable sensation that Vivian thought she might swoon. She was already feeling lightheaded, from both her position and her exertions as she’d kicked her legs and struggled, and now the growing need between her legs was making her feel even more discombobulated.

  “Oh, please . . . Mrs. Banks . . .” Vivian shuddered, unsure if she was asking her companion to cease or continue. Fingers pressed inside her, invading her tight body, as Mrs. Banks’s thumb rubbed against the most sensitive spot on the exterior of her body.

  “Please what?” Mrs. Banks asked. “Do you want me to stop?”

  Vivian’s legs kicked again. No, she did not want her to stop. She was no longer struggling, but she could not control her writhing as the burn in her bottom mingled with the heat in her loins and began to swirl and grow. Her hips moved in instinctive rhythm with Mrs. Banks’s thrusting fingers, her hard nipples rubbing against the fabric of Mrs. Banks’s skirt.

  She had been stripped of everything but her footwear, spanked like a child, and now she was working her way up to a glorious climax. Having never experimented with touching herself, she was defenseless against the sensations streaking through her, and she wallowed in them with all the passionate abandon of an innocent.

  “Oh . . . Oh! Mrs. Banks! Oh!” Vivian wailed as her body tightened and exploded, her tunnel spasming around Mrs. Banks’s fingers as the first orgasm of her life wracked her young body. Her head tossed, wayward strands of hair shining brightly against her skin, rosy bottom bouncing as she arched her back and writhed in exquisite ecstasy.

  The stroking fingers slowed in their rhythm, allowing Vivian a slow descent down from the peak of her pleasure. Vivian moaned, her hips still jerking with the last wringing spasms of her climax, before she hung limply across Mrs. Banks’s lap.

  Mrs. Banks allowed her a few moments to gather herself before helping the girl up and leading her through her preparations for the evening. The companion caressed Vivian’s hot bottom, murmuring accolades.

  “You were such a good girl, Vivian, you took your punishment very well. I’m so proud of you.”

  Vivian blushed as Mrs. Banks helped put her to bed, tucking the covers in. While she thrilled to hear the approval in Mrs. Banks’s voice as she praised her, some part of Vivian couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at more than just her spanking, but also at her loss of composure. Yet Mrs. Banks was praising her for losing control of her emotions and reactions, despite the fact that the school had trained her never to do so.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, looking up at Mrs. Banks in confusion. Mrs. Banks sat on the bed next to her, very similar to the way Vivian’s mother had when she was a young girl. “Which part was my punishment and which part was my marriage training?”

  Smiling, Mrs. Banks smoothed back a wayward strand of hair from Vivian’s forehead. The young woman was lying on her side, obviously loathe to lay on her back with her bottom cheeks still feeling tender. “It was all part of your marriage training.”

  “I don’t like being spanked,” Vivian said, stifling the urge to rub at her sore bottom cheeks while Mrs. Banks was still in the room with her. She wasn’t quite telling the truth, but she didn’t want to admit that. “Are the other girls being punished?”

  Mrs. Banks skewered her with a hard look, and Vivian bit her lip before the other woman’s face softened a bit. “You are not like the other girls, Vivian. You are luckier than they are, because you will be prepared for your marriage. Not all husbands may wish to discipline their wives in the same way your future husband does, but it is not at all uncommon either. Those girls will go into their marriages never knowing what male needs or disciplines await them. You will be prepared as best we can to be the best possible wife for Lord Cranborne. You won’t let us down, will you?”

  The question was gentle but it appealed to Vivian’s pride and determination.

  “Of course I won’t,” she said, setting her jaw stubbornly. Mrs. Banks smiled and bid her a good night, skirts swishing gently as she left the room to go write her report on the day’s activities. The report would go first to Mrs. Cunningham and then, at the end of the week, each daily report would be bundled and sent to the earl so he would be kept apprised of Miss Stafford’s progress.

  Alone in her room with her sore bottom, Vivian wondered what her futur
e marriage would be like. She vowed to be the best wife she could, so her husband would have no reason to punish her. Although once the actual spanking was over, she had found it was not an entirely unpleasant activity. What would it have been like to lay across Lord Cranborne’s lap and be spanked? Despite the climax that Mrs. Banks had brought her to, the sensitive area between Vivian’s legs throbbed.

  Shivering, wondering, Vivian snuggled down into her sheets and her exhausted body drifted into sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “YOU’D BEST GET UP MISS, YOU DON’T WANT to be late again!” The maid shook Vivian’s shoulder, and Vivian stifled a whimper as she tried to burrow back under the covers.

  Despite her determination not to have a repeat performance of the day before, Vivian found herself struggling even harder to wake up than she had the previous day. The long day at the practicum, the spanking, the subsequent climax, and the earlier hour than she was used to all worked against her. Gathering her willpower, she dragged herself out of the sheets, stumbling through her toilette as the maid fussed over the bags under her eyes and then practically had to force her to eat a light breakfast.

  Her muscles ached, although her bottom wasn’t nearly as sore as she would have expected after the spanking. She had sneaked a peek in the mirror when the maid was dressing her and seen that her skin looked perfectly clear, without a hint of pink. It almost disturbed her that there were no remaining visible marks from the punishment, disappointing her in a way. Shouldn’t there have been some lingering evidence of her ordeal, more than a faint tingle in her bottom when she sat on the hard chair while the maid hurriedly did her hair?