Lilly Blossoms (Lessons in Submission Book 3) (12 page)

"Please, do us the honor of joining our tea party, Miss Lilly. I believe you are acquainted with our new guest."

Lilly was about to accept when she saw Mr. Tom not only sitting in his lap, but allowing this… this stranger to pet him as he drank from a saucer Phillip held. The man wasn't satisfied with Miss Bushy—no, he'd gone and stolen her cat! Just like that horrid woman was stealing her earnings. All her anger flowed back.

"You're not a cat! You are a bloody traitor!" she shouted. "And you… you, sir, are a thief. That's my squirrel and that's my cat!" She threw her empty flower basket, which hit Phillip in the face and terrified Mr. Tom. She wasn't sure whose yowl was louder. The cat's, as he scrambled to escape, or Lord Carrington's as the cat sank his claws into his leg to gain the traction necessary to leap free.

"Fine! Take everything. Take it all. I don't fucking care! Just leave me the hell alone!" she screamed, glaring daggers at the man she'd never understand. However, when he set the now empty saucer aside, swiped at the spilled cream that had wet his trousers, laid the napkin aside, rubbed his fingers across his forehead and then began to rise, she understood one thing all too clearly. She'd not only poked the hornet's nest; she'd set free a thousand insects who were just waiting to sink their stingers into her bottom. Turning, she raced for her door, screeching when she found herself lifted off her feet in mid-flight.

"Put me down!"

"Oh, I will be," he said even as he draped her over his shoulder. "I'll be putting you face down across my lap. The question is, would you rather look at the ground out here, or would you prefer the view of your floor inside?"

Oh, God… Please, God, help me
. She yelped when a hand connected to her right buttock and then squealed louder when it gave her left buttock its own swat.

"Inside!"

Phillip pushed carefully through the door, half expecting it to fall off its hinges. Despite the fact that he'd never seen Lilly lock it, he'd never betrayed the sanctity of her home by opening it to look inside her house. However, now that he'd been invited—albeit not given a true invitation, he took his time to scan the interior. Not that it took more than a few seconds. The room was small but it was spotless. Spying what he'd need, he set her down and when she immediately bolted towards the door, he said, "Take one more step and I will be accompanying you outside where you will use your scissors to cut a switch that I will be using after I've spanked your bottom."

"I can't."

He noticed her choice of pronoun and asked, "You can't what?"

"Cut a switch. Mr. Kerr said that my scissors could break on anything thicker than a flower stem."

Was she really standing there, about to get her rear roasted, calming discussing Mr. Kerr's opinion about garden tools? It seemed so. "Then it's a good thing that I always carry a pocket knife, isn't it?"

She didn't answer, but then, it really wasn't necessary. If she tested him, she'd learn that his knife would have no problem cutting through a switch—or two—whenever the implement was called for. He reached for the only chair in the room, glad it seemed sturdy, and grateful it had no arms. Placing it in the center of the small space, he sat down and said, "Come here, Lilly."

"I-I don't want to."

He had to bite back a grin at her words and her tone. "No, little one. There will be absolutely no negotiating this time. And, just so you know, I do not like to repeat myself. Come here."

He kept his eyes on hers, seeing the hesitation a moment before seeing her acceptance of the fact that her behavior had earned her a spanking. She approached him slowly, as if expecting him to pounce on her at any moment. He didn't so much as twitch until she was standing directly in front of him. Reaching out, he took hold of her arms, spread his knees apart, and guided her to stand between them.

"Tell me why I'm going to give you a spanking, Lilly."

"What?"

"I believe you heard me say I don't like repeating myself, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Now answer my question."

"Why? I mean… you know."

Letting go of one arm, he cupped her chin and lifted her face until she was looking at him. "Any time I have need to tend to your bottom, we will start with you explaining why it is necessary to do so. It is important for you to understand why the lesson is needed and to submit to the discipline." He watched her teeth worrying her bottom lip, he watched her cheeks flush, and he watched her eyes as they closed.

"No, open your eyes and look at me, young lady."

When she did, he could see tears beginning to shimmer in the green depths. He wanted so badly to pull her onto his lap, and yet knew this was the first step on a path that he prayed would be a journey they'd take together for the rest of their lives.

"That's my girl. Now, tell me why I'm going to spank you."

"Because I'm a bad girl," she said, the first tear spilling down her face.

The pad of his thumb found it and then stroked down her cheek. "No, Lilly, you are a wonderful, beautiful girl. You could never be a bad girl. You are the sweetest, most selfless girl I have ever known. Yes, you were a naughty girl, but you will never be a bad girl."

He gave her time to assimilate what he'd said and was about to list her transgressions himself when she spoke.

"I yelled at you. I hit you with my basket and I scared Mr. Tom. I-I cursed."

"And what happens to little girls who scream and throw tantrums?"

He felt a tremor run through her before she answered. "They-they get punished?" He wondered if she really questioned her answer or if she were perhaps praying that somehow, some way, he might have wished to hear a different response. She was going to be disappointed.

"Yes, they get punished. How do they get punished?"

"I-I don't…"

"Lillian Lancaster, lying will get you a switching as well and believe me, little one, a switching on top of an already hot bottom is not something I'd be anxious to experience."

"They get spanked," she said quickly, as if to avoid any possibility of a switching.

"That's correct. And where do they get spanked?"

"On… on their bottoms."

"That's almost correct. They get spanked on their bare bottoms, isn't that correct?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Very good. You are going to lift up your dress and bend over my knee. I will lower your bloomers and give you your spanking. Afterwards, you will stand in the corner and think about why you got a spanking, and then I will hold you on my lap and cuddle you and we will talk some more."

"Please… I'm so sorry…"

He pulled her into his chest and gave her a hug, bending forward to brush his lips across her forehead. "I know you are, little one. Let this lesson teach you that making naughty choices isn't something you wish to do." He set her back a bit and continued. "Because I promise, every time you do throw a tantrum, curse, or make the choice to be naughty, you will find yourself right back here, being turned over my knee or bent over a chair, a table, a bed or even a garden bench, and having another lesson imprinted on your little bum. Understand?"

Tears were sliding down her cheeks but she nodded and whispered, "Yes, sir."

Wanting to get the lesson done, he released her and said, "Lift up your dress."

When she'd obeyed, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, he gently guided her over his left leg. "Put your hands on the floor and don't reach back. I don't want to hurt them." When she hesitated, he said, "Don't worry, sweetie, I promise, I'm not going to drop you." He waited until she'd obeyed, the stretch moving her bottom into the perfect position before he pushed her dress up a bit higher onto her back. Holding her with one arm, he reached beneath her to untie the bow at her waist. It was only when he began to tug the fabric down that she began to struggle.

"No, wait! Please don't! Wait!"

Her panic was obvious as she twisted her body in an attempt to escape his lap, both hands reaching back to grab her bloomers.

"Lilly, you know that spankings are given on the bare…"

"I-I know, but… please… please don't pull them down all the way. Just enough to ba… bare my bottom. Please!"

He'd heard of women pleading to be allowed to keep their bloomers on, though the thin fabric didn't provide much protection, but he'd never heard one make such a specific request. Her tone was not one of attempting to negotiate, it was too raw. He looked down to see that her eyes were wide with almost a look of terror.

"All right. It's all right, Lilly. I'll keep them just below your cheeks."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

The terror disappeared and she nodded. She released her bloomers and returned her palms to the floor. Once he'd tugged the fabric down just enough to completely bare her bottom, he released the cloth.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He remembered Eleanor's words about trust and hoped this was but another step where Lilly would begin to truly believe she could trust his word. "You're welcome, are you ready?"

At her soft response of, "Yes, sir," he laid his palm against her skin.

"Remember, Lilly, if I didn't love you, if I didn't want you to be the best person you can be, I wouldn't bother to spank you. I know spankings hurt, but I promise I will never harm you."

She didn't say a word but didn't need to. They both understood that it was time. Lifting his hand, he began.

Crack… crack.

He gave each cheek a smack, watching the flesh depress before springing back, each swat leaving a red hand-print in its wake.

"It is very naughty to scream."

Crack… crack.

"It is very naughty to throw things."

Crack… crack.

"It is very naughty to say ugly words."

Crack… crack.

"It is very naughty to call people names."

Crack… crack.

"It is very naughty to accuse people of stealing."

Crack… crack.

"And, Lilly, it is very, very naughty to throw a tantrum that includes all the things I have listed."

She hadn't done more than gasp or whimper but as his hand landed twice more, she sobbed, "I'm sorry! I promise I won't do it again."

Crack… crack… crack… crack.

"We will discuss the true meaning of a promise later. For now, know that every time you do anything that I've listed, you'll get your backside heated."

"Yes, sir! Please, no more!"

"Little girls do not decide when their spankings are over. That's for their papas to decide." With that, he pushed his left knee up, trapped her now kicking legs with his right one and tilted her a bit further forward. The swats that had been giving their individual, distinctive cracking sound, blended into each other as he gave her a flurry of them, covering every inch of her churning posterior.

"Ow! Ow! Please… oh please, it hurts!"

"Spankings are meant to hurt, young lady. They are meant to make your little bottom very red and very hot. They are meant to make it uncomfortable to sit to remind you of how uncomfortable it is for people to witness my beautiful girl throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old, screaming like a fishmonger, and cursing like a sailor."

After a final flurry, he rested his hand on the center of her bright red cheeks. Once she'd stopped bucking and realized the spanking was over, he released her legs. "I'm going to help you up but I want you to keep your dress lifted and your bloomers down." Before she could protest, he added. "When I let you up, I will tie the ribbon so that your bloomers don't fall. You will stand in the corner, with your punished cheeks on display and then…"

"Then you'll… you'll ho-hold me?"

Her question had his heart skipping a beat. "Yes, sweetie, then I'll hold you." He did exactly as he said and gave her a hug and a kiss on her tear-stained cheek before turning her from him. A gentle pat on her bottom sent her shuffling, bright red cheeks visible above her drawers, to the corner beside her table. When she turned her head to look over her shoulder, he gave her a smile and a nod. "That's my good girl. Nose to the wall. I want you to think about making better choices."

She nodded and turned, leaning forward a bit until her nose touched the juncture of the two walls. When her hands moved to her bottom, he gave her the instructions that any well-spanked little girl standing in a corner with a throbbing derrière never wanted to hear.

"No rubbing, Lilly. Put your hands on top of your head and let the burn in your behind remind you to be my good girl."

He heard her sigh but watched as she obeyed. God, she was so incredibly beautiful in her submission. Pulling out his watch, he gave it an occasional glance as he sat in the chair and took in the room. It might look like a deserted garden shed from the outside, but this incredible woman had turned it into more than a house. She had a pallet on the floor that was covered with an old quilt. On a shelf beneath the window, three little pots were lined up in the center with what appeared to be sticks stuck into them. Two additional pots sat at the window's edges. These plants had obviously fared far better than the others, as ivy flowed over the rims to crawl up and around the window—almost like a living curtain. There was an old barrel sitting upside down by her bed, a pile of books on its surface. Standing, he walked over to look at them. All of them looked very well-read and he smiled. His girl evidently loved reading as much as he did. He couldn't wait to share some of his books with her and then sit with her on his lap and discuss each one.

He turned to finish his perusal. Beneath the table there was a wooden crate that held neatly folded clothing and another that held what appeared to be the entire contents of her pantry. Both crates could have held a great deal more. Besides a plate and a glass on the table top, a chipped bowl and plate sat on the floor, and he could just see her bending to share what had to be her meager dinner with a very ungrateful cat. He glanced at his watch and was about to call her to him when he realized that something was missing. Looking around again, he realized that any meals she ate would have been cold. There wasn't a stove in sight. He also realized that there was no sign of a lantern. No wonder she'd been up at the crack of dawn. Without any source of flame to light the room, she obviously woke with sun's rise and was in bed when it sank over the horizon. He didn't even want to think about how she made it through the cold nights of winter. He'd known she was a strong woman, known she was a survivor, but this… this was more than he'd ever considered. All that he did know was that she was unlike anyone he'd ever met, and that he'd spend every breath until the day he died convincing her that she belonged to him.

"You may pull up your drawers and come here, sweetie." How she managed to yank up her bloomers while flinging herself into his arms, he'd never know, but he lifted her off her feet and crushed her to his chest, his lips finding hers.