Page 68 of The Duke's Pet

When she’d finished she stood, added a log to the fire, then went to the desk by the window.

The duke was behind her in a flash. He stroked her bare ass cheeks. “You are marked from the cane.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Does it remind you to obey me?” he whispered by her ear. “That you mustn’t run away, or climb or hide from me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. That is the intention.”

He stroked the collar. “And this reminds you that you are mine?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

He pulled away and set out a fresh piece of paper. On it were pictures of animals, beneath which words were written. “You can copy out these words.” He ran his finger over each of them. “Ten times over. That way you will learn the names of the animals when written down.”

“Yes. I can do that.”

“Good.” He pulled out the chair. “I will trust you to get on with your task.”

Jemima sat; her ass was feeling better today and the chair was soft so she was comfortable enough. She began painstakingly and very carefully writing the words cow, dog, deer, sheep, and bird. It took a lot of concentration to match the shape of each letter precisely and she said the animals’ names quietly as she wrote.

By the time she’d done ten each, the letters and their pattern had sunk into her memory.

She sat back, pleased with her work and stretched out her fingers.

The duke looked over at her. “Complete?”

She nodded, then stood. “To the best of my ability, though I hope to get better.”

He kept hold of his brush and palette and came over to her. “Let me see.”

He stood so close she allowed herself a moment of enjoying his scent—soap and oily paint, perhaps leather and sandalwood too.

“You have done well.” He nodded at the writing. “There is little to improve upon.”

“Really?”

He smiled. “Really. Now come and stand here with me.” He walked to the hearth rug and stopped.

She followed.

“And stand very still, arms at your sides.”

Again she did as he’d asked.

He dipped his brush in the red blob of paint on his palette, then rested it against the rise of her left breast.

“Sir?”

“Shh, you are to be my canvas.”

She held as still as she could, listening to the sound of her pulse and the ticking of the clock.

Very slowly and precisely the duke drew a red circle and filled it in with the scarlet paint. He then switched colors and added two small leaves to the top.

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