Page 41 of In Service to the Duke

“Well?” He drawls, pushing off of the door. “I’m waiting.”

He asked me a question. What was it? My brain fuzzes as he comes closer, infusing the air with his potent scent. What is he going to do with me? That was the question.

Dropping into a curtsy, I train my eyes to the floor. “I haven’t any clue, Your Grace. But I suppose you’ll certainly think of something.”

“Cheeky,” he chuckles, sliding his finger under my chin to force my gaze back up at him. “You are temptation incarnate,” he breathes. “My very own Daphne. Shall I force you down onto this desk and devour you? Shall I make you truly mine?”

“I- I-” Words escape me as he undoes his cravat.

On instinct, I open my mouth, ready to accept it. His dark laugh sizzles through my brain, brushing my skin as it envelops me. Unable to help myself, I moan softly under the onslaught of sensations whirling through my body.

“Trained already,” he murmurs, stuffing the linen into my mouth, forcing it past my lips. “Such a good, receptive little pupil. Now turn around and grip my desk so we can begin your punishment.” There’s a lilt to his voice, almost as if he says these words while holding back a moan of his own.

Reaching forward, I do as he commands, my body burning as he lifts my skirts. Once I’m bare to his gaze, he clucks his tongue in what I can only assume is disappointment. All feelings of smug satisfaction drain from my body with that incriminating sound.

“Soaking wet already, I see. And I haven’t even begun. Such a naughty, wanton little thing. Is it me you’re wet for? Is it me your body craves in such a delightful manner?”

He skims his hands down the backs of my thighs before urging them apart. “Oh, the things I could do to you. And you’d beg me to do them, wouldn’t you?” More of that maddening liquid gathers where I ache the most. “Never mind,” he breathes against the skin of my backside. “I can see your answer as it drips from your body.”

Standing, he runs his hand over my back, pushing me further down against the wood until I’m completely bent in half with the desk pressing hard against my pubis. That bite of pain zips straight down in between my thighs, making the ache far more pronounced.

“Such temptation,” he groans. “Your mere presence vexes me so. And yet, I find I cannot separate myself from my entanglements with you. Why, with the way your body cries out for mine, I almost forget the need to punish you.”

No! I scream in my mind. Punishment is what I need. It’s what I crave. It’s the reason I’m here, allowing him to do such humiliating things to my body. The sweet relief his harsh hand can bring makes all of this worth it.

He pulls his hand away, drawing a stifled moan from my lips. As he walks around the desk, my body cries out for him. With a soft caress, he glides his fingers around my mouth for a moment before tugging on the cravat.

“I have another idea. I want to see just how good you can be for me. We don’t need a bit of cloth to keep you quiet, do we?”

“N- no, Your Grace,” I whisper, my body trembling as he leaves the cravat on the desk and goes back around to my bare backside.

I want so desperately to be good for him, to hear his sweet praises as he disciplines me.

“Absolutely sodden,” he groans as he grazes my skin.

“Please,” I manage to whimper before his hand grips my right buttock cheek.

“Begging already? Trust me, you’re going to want to save those pitiful pleas for after I start. Maybe I’ll listen to you. Maybe I won’t. Either way, retribution will be mine.”

I sag against the desk, relief flooding my system until I can no longer think straight. My fingers tingle as my vision dips and sways. He’s going to punish me, after all. Thank sweet, merciful heaven.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in and out through my nose, centering myself to take the pain he will inflict. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recall a promise he made to me. More like a threat, actually. Each time he has to see me, the punishment will get worse.

Granted, that’s not verbatim, but the sentiment is there. At least I think it is. Whenever I’m around him, I cannot trust my mind to remember things as they are. Instead, I find myself wondering if it’s all just wishful thinking.

Moments go by, and still the pain never comes. Confused, I lift my head and spy Blackport standing back behind the desk with an odd object in his hand. Unfortunately, I can only lift my head so high.

Most of the view is of the pale pink and white smear over the front of his breeches. The jam still looks wet and appetizing, as if I just moments ago spilled it on him. Hunching down, he brings his face in line with mine.

A smirk slashes across his face as he stares at me. “I can’t have you getting too complacent. Besides, today’s faux pas involves food. Only fitting I return the favor in kind.”

When he stands back up, I’m able to get a closer look at what’s in his hands. If my memory serves me correctly, it’s a hunk of ginger. But that makes no sense. True, ginger can be used to make dishes a bit more savory and spicy, but what does that have to do with my punishment?

Unless he means to force me to eat it. Nausea bubbles up into my throat at the idea of eating it raw. I’ve never done it before and have no clue what it would taste like. Either way, I’m sure it will burn my tongue.

It still doesn’t explain why my skirts are still hiked up. Could it be that Blackport enjoys watching my humiliation just as much as he seems to enjoy making me squirm? No doubt it is something as mundane as simply granting him easier access if he wants to continue physically punishing me after forcing me to chew the ginger.

Soap, I can handle. I’ve had my fair share of cakes I’ve had to chew on for some infraction or another. But never ginger. Perhaps I should take note of this to have another tool in my arsenal in case any ward of mine decides to speak out of turn.