Page 53 of The Duke's Pet

She cupped her bare buttocks. “I am sorry, truly.”

“Now let’s imagine I accept your apology.” He lowered the cane. “Where does that leave me?”

She hesitated. “What do you mean... Sir?”

“See it from my point of view. I still have a naughty little kitten who must learn a lesson.”

A tremor spread from her belly to her chest and jaw. The determined glint in his eye was as frightening as the cane. He had no intention of backing down from his decision.

“So we should just get on with the punishment,” he said, “so that we can put it behind us.”

She stared at him, the tremor going lower now, between her legs, to her thighs and the backs of her knees.

“So I will instruct you again, little kitten, turn around and show me your ass.”

Slowly, and with her eyes misting, Jemima turned to face the door. The wooden panels held a small amount of dust on each lower rim.

“Like this.” He raised her left hand so it was level with her ear. “Palm on the surface.”

She did just that.

“And the other. You’ll need to hold steady for this.”

“Please, Sir, is there some other way to make it up to you? To apologize for what I did?”

“No, there is not. And the fact that you do not want to be caned proves that it is the right method of disciplining you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m—”

“No more speaking, unless I give you permission. If you disobey that order you will gain extra strikes.”

She clamped her lips together and her breath caught in her throat. A single tear trickled down her cheek. She turned her head so he wouldn’t see it.

She felt so vulnerable standing naked at the door, her buttocks bare and the plug lodged securely. Surely the cane would hurt more with that in position. How could it not?

He was at her side again, his hands roaming her lower back, her ass, and the tops of her thighs. He flicked the tail and she tensed when it tugged the plug.

“You will receive ten stripes for your appalling behavior,” he said. “Which in light of what could have happened is getting off easily.”

Her heart was thudding. Her ass seemed to sting already, as if the anticipation of the pain was as real as the actual hurt.

“Now brace yourself,” he said, lifting his touch. “And do not cry out, I do not wish Mrs. Cook to come running.”

She curled her fingers on the door and closed her eyes tight.

The cane sang through the air then swiped over both buttocks.

She jerked forward, the sting a lick of fire over her skin. Her ass had tightened around its invasion and the plug seemed to grow in heaviness.

It was hard not to cry out but she managed.

“That is the first,” he said, touching the line he’d made. “And do not fear, I will not pull your tail. Little kittens do not like that.”

Damn the little kittens.

Another swipe of the cane had her canting her hips. The sting rounded her ass to her waist, her belly, and caught her breath.

He was quick with the next strike, and the next, and she danced on her toes, struggled to keep her hands on the door.

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