Page 9 of Desire and Discipline

Priscilla

The wooden paddle was not light, but it was very effective, and it did help with the stinging of her hand. She had not thought about the ramifications of using her own palm. It had been very satisfying at first, but the enjoyment had faded as the discomfort in her palm grew.

Still, she had liked seeing her handprints on Joseph, knowing he would be feeling the same sting. His soft groans had sent ripples of arousal through her, making her feel achy and swollen between her legs.

The paddle was heavier, the sound a meaty thwack rather than a sharp slap, and it was able to cover far more area.

Priscilla watched, fascinated, as creamy skin turned pink, and pink skin brightened after the very first blow.

She was going to have to work on her strength to be able to keep up more than a few with the paddle.

Using two hands helped, though she also worried about hitting Joseph too hard until she saw the way he moved his hips, rubbing the front of his groin against the arm of the couch.

With his eyes closed, his lips parted to emit low groans, it was impossible to ignore that he was enjoying his punishment.

Which hardly seemed the point.

It was both arousing and frustrating.

Pressing her lips together, Priscilla let the paddle drop by her side.

His buttocks were now pink all over. Fascinated, she reached out with her free hand to touch.

Joseph groaned as she stroked the warm skin, a shiver that she could actually see going up his spine.

Her fingers were not enough. She placed her whole hand over his hot flesh and squeezed.

He groaned, moving his hips again.

“Hold still.” The order came naturally, a firm command, and he froze in place.

Now, it was her turn to shiver. That had never happened before. Not with anyone. And she did not like it—she loved it. Loved giving her husband an order and seeing him obey. Not because she was forcing him to, but because he wanted to.

That was as much a pull for her as the pain, she realized.

There had been nothing holding him in place for the spanking and paddle other than his own desire.

Catherine came up beside her, nodding approval.

“Good job,” she said, her gaze traveling over Joseph’s backside.

There was nothing desirous or covetous in her expression.

It was decidedly clinical, which eased Priscilla even more.

She was judging Priscilla’s handiwork, not Joseph’s buttock, and she did not appear to have any desire to touch the way Priscilla did.

“Call on me this week for tea, and we can discuss things further.” It was clear that direction was for Priscilla alone.

Then Catherine leaned in, speaking low enough that only Priscilla would be able to hear.

“Remember, not all punishment need be administered by hand… keep him waiting.”

Oh…

Oh.

Priscilla pressed her thighs together as what Catherine was suggesting hit her. While it was clear Joseph and Catherine’s… relations had been chaste, Priscilla had no such need.

Watching Priscilla’s expression change, Catherine nodded in satisfaction, her tone returning to normal.

“Tea. This week. Do not forget.”

“I will not.” Priscilla had a multitude of questions she would like answered. While she knew her friends would attempt to do so, none of them were in her particular position. All of them enjoyed being spanked by their husbands, not the other way around.

She certainly could not imagine asking Elijah or Anthony for advice.

Perhaps Nathan or Rex… but no. None of the men.

She had grown comfortable enough with the way the other ladies talked to each other, but she could not imagine opening up to their husbands.

She doubted Joseph would thank her for it, either.

Catherine was her best resource, even though it might be awkward at first.

“I will see you then.” As Catherine swished away to the door, Priscilla finally remembered her manners.

“Thank you,” she called after the other lady, who waved her hand over her shoulder before exiting the room. The door closed behind her with finality, leaving Priscilla with her husband, still bent over the arm of the couch, his reddened buttocks displayed toward her.

Right.

What now?

Taking a deep breath, Priscilla turned to look at him. It all depended on what she wanted, did it not?

“Stand up, Joseph,” she commanded firmly.

Every time she issued an order, it felt less strange and more natural, especially when he obeyed with alacrity.

Of course, she had not been thinking about the fact he had bared his buttocks, which meant the very little remaining clothing he was wearing fell to the floor when he stood.

His eyes were full of conflicted hunger, but his cock was pointing directly at her, hard and red and eager.

Keep him waiting.

A non-corporeal punishment.

But that did not mean that she needed to be kept waiting.

Taking a deep breath, Priscilla swept past him to the couch, hiking up the front of her skirts before sitting down and spreading her legs. Leaning against the back, she tilted her hips forward. When she looked up at Joseph, his eyes were wide and focused on the dewy curls at the apex of her thighs.

“Come here and pleasure me,” she ordered. “With your mouth.”

Making the demand made her insides flutter, muscles clenching in anticipation.

Before this moment, she would have never dared to make such a demand, especially without offering some kind of reciprocation.

Yet Joseph did not hesitate, which heightened her arousal even more as he eagerly moved in front of her and dropped to his knees.

She did not have to say another word as he wrapped his arms around her thighs and curved over them, pulling her forward and burying his head between them.

“Oh!” she gasped aloud as his tongue delved between her swollen folds, lapping up the cream already gathered there.

It felt heavenly… and she felt utterly, decadently depraved, sitting on a chaise with her skirts around her waist, her husband kneeling between her thighs and pleasuring her at her command.

It was sinfully delicious.

Moaning, she leaned back, enjoying it. Reaching up to cup her aching breasts, she squeezed them, adding to the sensations coursing through her.

“Oh, yes…”

Joseph’s tongue had found exactly the right spot, and her thighs tightened around his head.

His fingers pressed into the soft flesh, holding her open as his tongue lashed her with eagerness.

Her hips lifted to meet the blissful sensations, her head falling back, and she squeezed her breasts tighter, her fingers pinching her nipples through the fabric of her gown.

“Oh… yes… Joseph…”

The combination of her power over him, his submission to her demands, and the sheer pleasure of his tongue laving over her most sensitive spots sent her soaring. The intensity of her orgasm had her writhing against his mouth, crying out as ecstasy billowed over her and crashed through her.

When he lifted his head again, she was limp and satiated… yet still not done disciplining him for keeping such monumental secrets from him. It might not be fair, as she had also kept some secrets from him, but that was how she felt. And Lady Catherine’s advice was still echoing in her ears.

Make him wait.

Joseph

His wife was a revelation.

Not only inclined to the same desires as him, but naturally good at indulging them. He knew Lady Cross had been providing some guidance, but he could tell she had not needed to do much. Once Priscilla knew she could take control, she had. Immediately, efficiently, and seductively.

The idea of what a proper wife was supposed to be, how she was supposed to act, was pushed back farther and farther in his mind under the fact he was far happier with his wife behaving decidedly improperly.

He could still taste her on his lips as she led him through the house, stopping to watch the scenes in some of the rooms. She only hesitated once or twice, and he smiled reassuringly when she glanced back at him, as if ascertaining she was not doing anything wrong.

This was a new dynamic for both of them. It was only natural she would have some hesitations, though she had taken to most of it like a duck to water. None of that diminished the awe he now felt for her nor his overwhelming arousal as his cock throbbed within his pants.

He’d been both frustrated and impressed when she’d lowered her skirts after her climax and breathlessly ordered him to get dressed.

He had a feeling he knew where that impulse had come from, yet he could not fault Lady Cross for passing the idea along.

It made his arousal, his desire, even sharper as he waited for Priscilla to be ready for him.

It was a far better punishment than the spanking and paddling, both of which had been hard enough to bite but not enough to make him feel regret.

Right now, his thoughts were consumed by Priscilla—by her wants and needs, by her presence at his side, by his desire for her.

It was everything she deserved and utter torment for him… which was everything he deserved.

Priscilla led him into a room where Lady Greywood was preparing her latest…

victim. It was hard to think of them as her lovers when she only engaged in exhibitions before the lover part.

Joseph actually had no idea whether or not her partners were allowed coitus with her afterward.

She always kept that part of their relationships private, and none of the men she partnered with ever revealed the truth.

He had never been curious enough to engage with her in order to find out. While he might like some pain, he valued his balls in their current condition.

“Oh, my…” Priscilla breathed the words, her eyes widening as she watched what the lady was doing, wrapping a long strand of leather around Lord St. Vincent’s balls.

The man groaned, his arms folded behind his back, hips thrust forward to give Lady Greywood access as she tortured him.

His cock was stiffly erect and leaking fluid.

Priscilla glanced at Joseph, and he avoided her gaze.

He was not opposed to the current position Lord St. Vincent was in, but he also knew Lady Greywood had hardly begun her torture. Perhaps he should try to encourage Priscilla to exit, so she did not get too many ideas…

“Lady Greywood is very good at what she does, but she often goes beyond what I would enjoy,” he murmured in her ear, by way of hinting that perhaps this was not the best place for them to stop, though he would abide by her wishes.

At the very least, now she knew that Lady Greywood’s particular brand of erotic torment was past what he would desire.

Priscilla nodded in acknowledgment, but she did not move, her gaze riveted to the scene.

Joseph sighed inwardly and prepared himself for what he knew was coming.

Lord St. Vincent was a complete masochist while Lady Greywood was an equally intent sadist. It was a pairing that always guaranteed a good show, even though he had no interest in experiencing most of it personally.

They watched with the rest of the room as Lady Greywood pinched and twisted poor St. Vincent’s nipples between tugging on the long leather strand hanging from his balls. The heavy sack was slowly darkening in color, from pink to red, when she decided to apply a tawse to it.

St. Vincent’s cries echoed around the room and down the hall as she punished his sack and cock, occasionally returning to his nipples for more painful stimulation.

At the end of it, he was a sweaty, teary mess on the floor, licking her dainty toes in appreciation, and Priscilla’s eyes were as wide as Joseph had ever seen them.

Apprehension was gripping him in a way that he’d never expected.

His wife was getting quite an education this evening, and he had no idea what that meant for him now that she’d taken control of their sexual relationship.