Page 26 of Papa's Rules
Chapter Ten
Cammie glanced out the carriage windows at the streets of London. This was her first outing with Papa since their marriage. It seemed everything appeared much different to Cammie now that she was a married lady. Lady Cavendish to be exact. A shiver of excitement ran through her tummy and her toes wiggled in her shoes at the mere thought that she was indeed Lady Cavendish, now and forever. A small flush warmed her cheeks as she remembered all of the ways Papa had claimed her. Yes, she was well and truly his.
The view from the Cavendish family carriage as it rolled through the streets of Mayfair and the other prosperous neighborhoods of the city contrasted dramatically with what she remembered of the dank, dreary tenement section of town where she and her brother, Robert, had tried to scrape out an existence. So many years had gone by since then, it was hard for Cammie to even believe that period had been part of her life.
She peeked out the corner of her eye at the handsome man who was her husband and her papa. She could scarcely fathom the grand turn her life had taken. Married just over a week, Cammie had found herself happier than she ever imagined she could be. Fulfilled, satisfied, loved and cared for and all of this because of her papa. Oh, she supposed if she was really going back to the whole source of her life’s change in course, Miss Wickersham deserved the credit.
Now that Cammie was a little older and wiser in the ways of the world, or so she believed after a week of marital bliss, the realization of what might have happened to her had her brother been successful in his plan to hire her out as a scullery maid to a family known to be cruel and abusive with their servants—not that Robert realized it at the time—she did not blame him for it, but her life would have been drastically different.
She glanced down at her hands encased in a new pair of gloves with her monogram CC for Camellia Cavendish embroidered into the leather on the inner wrist of each glove and thought about what her hands might look like if she had spent the last six years working as a scullery maid rather than her current circumstance of sitting perched inside a luxurious carriage emblazoned with the Cavendish family crest. She now had a family. She belonged.
“What are you thinking about, little Cammie?” Papa asked.
“I am thinking about all you have been teaching me,” she said with a blush. “I had no idea of the things that married people did together,” she said. “Thank you for being such a patient teacher.”
“And thank you for being such a willing pupil.” Papa caressed her cheek. “In fact, that is why we are off to Mrs. Stilton’s Milliner shop today. I would like to get you a present to thank you and to honor you for being such a good wife.”
“Thank you, Papa, but you do not need to buy me hats for me to love you more.”
“But a new hat will not cause you to love me any less, will it, my dear?”
“Papa! You make it sound bad,” Cammie said with a laugh, her love for him growing every minute.
“You look very pretty today, my Cammie,” her papa said giving her a warm smile and squeezing her hand.
“Thank you, Papa,” she said. “You chose a particularly pretty dress for me today and I thank you for that.”
“It is one of my great delights to dress you each morning, my dear,” Papa said then winked. “Though it is second only to the great delight I take in undressing you.”
“Papa!” Cammie exclaimed. “You make me blush.”
“I enjoy making you blush. I enjoy everything with you, my sweet Cammie.” The affection in his eyes filled Cammie with awe. She never knew it was possible to be loved so thoroughly and completely.
“You are the best papa in the whole wide world and I thank you for everything you do for me. Are you sure that we need to go shopping for a new hat? The one that I’m wearing now is even more beautiful than the one I wore yesterday which is more beautiful than the one I wore the day before that.”
“Well, there’s always tomorrow then the day after tomorrow and the day after that and you will need beautiful hats for each of those days, my darling Cammie, and I shall make sure that you have them.”
Cammie looked up at her papa and said, “Are you certain, dear papa that your desire to have me properly hatted is not the result of your less-than-stellar talent at arranging my hair?” Cammie gave him a saucy look while holding back a giggle.
Quick as a flash, Papa had Cammie over his lap and administered five swift swats to her bottom and placed her back in her seat before she knew what had happened to her. “You are lucky, little Cammie, that we are not at home in your dressing room right now because I would use the hairbrush on you. That seems the appropriate punishment for someone who mocks my efforts at styling your beautiful hair.”
The giggle she had been holding back burst from Cammie’s lips. “Papa,” she said, “you are being very silly, though I must admit your skills are vastly improving.”
“It would seem, my dear,” Papa said, “that we are both teaching each other new things, are we not?” The meaning of his words and the look he gave her started slow heat burning through Cammie. Her face flushed and her kitty began to feel warm and tingly like it did so often when she was in her Papa’s presence.
“Papa!” Cammie exclaimed blushing and glancing about the interior of the carriage as though someone might hear them. “What a scandalous thing to say in public.”
“We are not in public.” And to prove his point, he slid his hand inside the bodice of her dress and cupped her breast while he continued to speak, the brush of his thumb over her ninny making it difficult for Cammie to concentrate on his words. “The only ones who might hear are the servants. My staff has been well trained, Camellia. Anything they see or hear they will keep private or they will find themselves off looking for a new job and well they know it.”
“Besides,” he said, giving her a lengthy glance from head to toe while he continued to fondle her breast, “it is no secret that I adore you and surely the staff is well aware of that, if not from your moans of pleasure, then possibly from your squeals when you are disciplined.”
“Papa,” Cammie gasped. The mere mention of her husband’s firm discipline, combined with the naughty sensations he stimulated in her breast made her lightheaded. “I really must insist. We are in public, people can see in the windows.”
Papa gave her a stern look as well as a particularly hard pinch to her nipple. “You must insist?” he asked, rolling the tip of her breast between his thumb and forefinger until she moaned and swayed in his direction. “Tell me, Camellia,” he asked, his voice a husky whisper, “who is in charge of you, body and soul?” The bodice of her dress was pushed to the side and his mouth took over where his fingers had been.
“P-papa, no,” she gasped again and tried to pull away. “You cannot do that.”
To her great relief, Papa raised his head from her breast, though the sight of her exposed nipple slick from Papa’s lips and tongue gave her the squirmies and part of her dearly wished he would continue.
