Moving along, she spotted another small jar of liquid. It held a green tint and she wondered what it smelled like. Reaching for it, she bumped her hip on the table, it shuddered, she grasped the jar too quickly and it toppled. The contents spilled onto the painting of the blossom tree, instantly spreading over it and washing the colors together.
“Oh, no,” she gasped.
But it was too late. The duke had seen.
His brow creased and he slammed his paintbrush down on the lip of his easel. “What are you doing?”
He strode up to her.
The anger coming off him was palpable.
Her heart rate galloped to full pace. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“You were told not to touch.” He set the jar upright, though it was empty now, then held the tree painting aloft. Water dripped from the end onto the floor. “This is ruined. It took me an entire day. What a waste of time.” He screwed it up and flung it into a waste bin. “And that tree is no longer in blossom; it will be a full year before I can replace that piece of documentation.”
“I really am sorry. It was an accident, a mistake.”
“Was it a mistake that you were here, by my desk, touching my things?”
“No, Sir. I don’t think so. But I didn’t—”
“You didn’t intend to wreck my work. Important botanical research.” “No, I really didn’t.”
His eyes had lost the softness of earlier, and his lips were thin. “I believe I have been quite clear in my instructions.” He gripped her wrist. “And you have disobeyed me.”
“Sir.”
He tugged her to the sofa.
She tried to resist but it was no good, his grip was firm. Fear darted though her chest, tightening her throat and snatching her breath.
Once there he sat on the edge, knees bent, jaw tense. He still held her wrist and his brow was creased. “And now you must be punished, little kitten.”
“Please, I... I’m sorry.”
What the hell is he going to do?
He looked so big and strong, determined and domineering. Stood beside him—small and skinny—she was vulnerable and at his mercy, emotions that scared her but at the same time wrapped around her in a new, unsettling way.
“Sorry will not right your wrong,” he snapped.
“But... it was an accident.”
“An accident that would not have happened had you been obedient.”
Suddenly her world turned upside down. He’d tipped her over his lap and pulled her close to his hard body. His thighs were thickly muscled and warm through his pants and his hold on her like a lock of steel.
“Hey, get off me!” She scrabbled for something to hold onto, found the floor, and yelped as a hard swat landed on her backside. The sensation was shocking and stung like a swarm of bees.
“I will not have my work interfered with.”
Another smack, then another and another.
She kicked and squirmed, trying to break free. It was mortifying to be spanked like a childwould be... except no, this was much harder than anyone would strike a child, this had real male muscle behind it.
He held her tighter, drawing her against his torso. “Keep still.” His voice was a low growl. He sounded almost feral, animal-like, and the tone sent a shiver through her.
I am his. That is how it is here.
He’d bought her, he could do as he pleased whether that pained her, scared her, or demeaned her—or all three.
He didn’t let up, the loud thwacks of his palm connecting with her petticoat snapping around the room and up to the high ceiling.
“Oh... it hurts,” she cried when she felt she could take no more.
“It’s supposed to.” His voice still held that raw, masculine tone.
She clenched her fists as the spanking continued. At least her ass had some protection from her petticoat.
“This is in the goddamn way.” He gripped the waistband of her last piece of clothing and yanked it down, completely exposing her buttocks.
Her poor bottom was utterly at his mercy.
“Oh, please.” She tried to grab the petticoat and pull it up.
But it was no good. He was too big, strong, and determined and swatted her attempts away.
“Stop that nonsense.”
For a moment he was still and she imagined him staring at the globes of her behind, no doubt red from his ministrations.
Humiliation had her skin crawling at the same time it was smarting. No man had ever laid eyes on her naked behind before.
Oh, why does he have to do this to me?
And then the punishment resumed. This time on naked, vulnerable skin.
She attempted to protect her buttocks, sending the flat of her palm around in an effort to relieve some of the burning rain of slaps he was sending down.
He batted her hand away. “Little kitten, if I have to tell you again to keep still, this spanking will go on for three times as long as it should do. For it pains me not to teach you this lesson, only you.”
“Oh, Duke... please.”
“Be silent and take it.” He shoved at her hands and she was forced to grip his leg and the side of the sofa.
After another ten or so spanks, there was a reprieve as he stroked her ass, as if learning the shapes of her buttocks and exploring her flesh.
Jemima held her breath. His caress was gentle, soft, almost loving. This confused her; a second ago he’d been causing her pain, now he was treating her butt like a prized possession.
He skimmed his finger up the cleft of her cheeks then back down, so low she instinctively jerked away when he neared her rear hole. “Sir!”
He chuckled softly. “It is not time for that... not yet.”
