Page 42 of The Duke's Pet

There was something in his expression—a determined fixed jaw, narrowed eye—that told her he wasn’t lying. He’d do exactly that and her poor bottom would be thoroughly abused by her actions.

“Have I made myself clear?” he said, his tone still dark.

“Yes, Sir.” She nodded and was careful to keep steady eye contact with him.

He didn’t speak; instead he led her to his table by the window. The right side of it had been cleared of paper, quills, and debris. “Bend over.”

Her face heated, her cheeks burning up.

“As we’ve discussed previously, I know you can hear me. So do it.” He pressed the top of her back and urged her to tip forward. “When you’re told to.”

She had no choice but to bend double. The wood was cool and hard and her breasts flattened on it as he ensured she was stretched out on the surface.

Her ass felt vulnerable, the way it had when he’d tipped her over his lap the day before—bare, defenseless, and exposed.

She tried to calm the tremor in her belly that stretched downward, between her legs and to her pussy.

“Now you must try and relax for this bit, little kitten,” he said, his voice softer again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He ran his fingers down her spine slowly, tracing each vertebra. When he reached her behind he smoothed over each globe of flesh, tracing the area of heat he’d created the day before.

She stared out of the window, seeing the stretch of lawn and the tree line but barely registering it. Her buttocks were taut, her legs braced, and her spine stiff.

“I demand of you, relax,” he said, his voice was sterner again.

She snatched in a breath then blew it out slowly, willing the tension to leave her body. She visualized it breezing from her on the air, leaving her a slumped form over the desk. She was helpless yet willing now, and she also had to trust him.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well.” He reached for something else out of the drawer. “You have such a dear little bottom,” he said. “So soft and smooth.”

Jemima didn’t know how to respond to that compliment so she said nothing.

“And now the blush from your spanking has faded it’s beautifully pale again too. It’s like freshly drawn milk.”

He tugged her left cheek outward.

She curled her toes on the rug and clenched.

“No.” A sharp stinging slap landed on her rear.

“Ouch!” She jerked forward, her hipbones bumping on the wood.

“No clenching.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

Oh, but it was hard not to. He’d exposed her most private hole and was obviously looking right at it. Cool air washed over her intimate flesh, slipping to her pussy.

“Widen your stance.” He tapped her foot with his boot.

She did, a fraction.

“More,” he snapped, again tapping her with his boot.

She gulped and obeyed despite it being against her instincts.

“That’s it.” He ran his hand down the shallow cleft of her buttocks. When he reached her asshole he stopped.

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