Royal Discipline Read online

  “My father says this is my last chance,” said Violet. “That if His Grace cannot change me...”

  Jeannie’s hands went still. “Then what?”

  “I don’t know. Something bad will happen.” Violet turned to her, feeling thoroughly depressed. “No one will agree to marry me. That’s what will happen. Or if they do, they’ll leave me within the first year.”

  Jeannie stared at her in shock. “Oh, no, miss. I can’t imagine it. You’re ever so intelligent, and beautiful, and k—”

  The maid’s voice cut off sheepishly. Violet could see her blushing even in the dimly lit room. “You were going to say kind, weren’t you?” she asked. “But it isn’t true. I’m not a kind person.”

  Jeannie replaced the lid on the salve. “You could be.”

  “The duke says I must change and become a better person. Not just for marriage, but for the future of my kingdom. I suppose if I don’t, it will mean the end of our family’s royal dynasty.”

  “What is that?” asked Jeannie shyly. “What is a ‘dynasty’?”

  “It is a...history,” said Violet after a moment. “The people in a family, and all the things that they’ve done.”

  “Oh.” Jeannie watched her a moment, biting her lip. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find an excellent husband, miss, and make a wonderful dynasty with him.”

  “I’ve rejected all the princes and kings who wanted to marry me. They despise me now.”

  “Maybe they’ll give you another chance, now that you’re changing into a better person.”

  Violet gazed at the dark-haired maid, wondering if it was true. Were the duke’s methods working after all, despite her stubborn resistance?

  “But I shouldn’t babble on,” said Jeannie quickly. “I was only to check on you, and put salve on your backside, and bring you your dinner. Servants oughtn’t to talk to their superiors in a familiar way. I’m sorry, miss. Please forgive me.”

  “Are you leaving?” asked Violet in a panic. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “You’re not alone,” the maid assured her. “The duke has two footmen standing at the door, listening in case you need assistance. I warrant he’ll have two more stationed there all night. Don’t fret, miss. Even though I think it’s a bit heavy-handed, the master making you sleep in this cage.” She said this last part under her breath, but loudly enough for Violet to hear.

  She smiled at the maid in weary collusion. “And I suppose he will arrive soon to give me my nightly spanking.” As she said it, she was shocked to realize that she hoped it was true. Not because she wanted to be spanked, but because she wished to see him, which made no sense at all, because she didn’t like Thornton. He was a horrible, brutal man.

  But when it seemed around the time for him to come, she sat up in the cage and waited, straining to hear his footsteps in the corridor. When he appeared at the door, her stomach fluttered with a weird sort of pleasure, and kept on fluttering as he approached the cage in his elegant evening clothes.

  “I don’t suppose you are excited to see me,” he said. “But routines must be adhered to.”

  She felt unaccountably shy. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  First he took her to her room, so she might clean up and be relieved of the shaft in her bottom. She was permitted to change into a shift and perform her evening ablutions, and then he took her by the hand and escorted her back to the discipline parlor. Violet chose not to complain or resist when he led her toward the chaise. He sat down upon it and patted his knee.

  “Come then. It’s time for your nightly spanking.”

  She let out a breath and lay across his lap, which was a great act of courage, considering the state of her bottom and thighs. He brushed her shift up and out of the way, and then paused for a moment.

  “You know why we do this, Violet?” he asked. “Even on a night like tonight?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  His hand rested on her sore, sensitive bottom, one finger moving slowly along a tender welt. “It teaches me to submit,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “And in some way...” she went on, without really meaning to, “I suppose it helps...it helps me to...trust and...and respect you more.”

  His tracing finger went still. “I hope it does,” he said after a moment. “Even on a night like tonight.”

  There was a sadness in his words, a sadness in everything that had happened the past day. She had broken his trust and nearly caused a disaster. As he began to spank her, the sadness overtook her too, and she began to cry. She was crying for the pain, because, oh yes, it hurt.

  But she was also crying because she felt deeply unhappy. It was as if the ground under her feet was falling away, and she had nowhere left to stamp her foot. She had nowhere to stand tall. Her life, her title, her royalty began to feel like an elaborate sham. Her maid was more regal and brave than she was, and this duke was more regal too, with his stringent rules and adherence to discipline. He had devoted his life to order and discipline, and what had she done with her life? Nothing.

  Sobs poured out of her, more heartfelt and aching than any sobs she had voiced before. She could not have articulated any of this, and the duke did not ask. In fact, he took no note of her sorrowful weeping as he spanked her bottom. The pain was so intense as to feel dulled. It was as if her body had finally become numbed just as her soul tore open. She wiped at her tears and kept her toes on the floor the way she’d been taught, and when the spanking finally ended, she hardly felt any relief.

  The duke stood her up and made her look at him. She could not stop crying as she gazed into his patient blue eyes. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to brush away some of her tears, but more streamed down her cheeks, so he simply handed it to her. “You may keep it for the night.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, mopping at her eyes. She shivered in her shift, even though the servants kept the room comfortably warm with a well-tended fire. She wished she could stay with him, or that he would want to stay with her, but he clearly didn’t. He led her back to the cage and she slunk inside, and hunched into a ball in the back corner. She lifted his handkerchief over her face to hide her sobbing. The fine linen smelled of him.

  She heard the cage’s lock scrape closed, and raised her eyes. He looked in at her from outside the bars. “I perceive you’re feeling a great deal of remorse this evening.”

  She nodded, for she could not speak.

  “Sometimes being aware of how we feel is the first step toward beginning to feel better.”

  With those gentle words, he turned and left her alone in the silent and shadowy room. She would have liked him to hold her. She wondered what it would have felt like. She wondered why she wanted it, when the cruel, unbending Duke of Thornton had only ever brought her tears.

  Chapter Ten: Respect and Control

  It took Violet a while to fall asleep. Her thoughts would not be quiet—and they were torturous thoughts. Her body would not be comfortable, even with the soft shift to protect her welts from the woolen blanket. She could not stop looking around the room. Over time, the light from the fireplace dimmed, and the racks, chains, benches, and implements on the wall looked more sinister. Even within the cage, there were manacles hanging down from the ceiling, and those spidery looking clips hooked on the bars. At length she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at them, and somehow fell asleep.

  But she was to have no peace. Her slumber was plagued by nightmares. There were storms, and falling trees trying to smash her in the forest. There was the wolf, a memory she could not get out of her head. The creature snarled at her, blood dripping from its fangs. In the throes of her nightmare, it spoke to her. I hate you, worthless, disgusting, not fit for anything. Idiot. Cretin. Get out of my sight. The wolf was snarling the same things at her that she had said so many times to palace staff and her own browbeaten servants. It horrified her.

  The wolf lunged at her and she fou
ght it, knowing it was a matter of life and death. She was not strong enough. Its teeth sank into her arms and shoulders, and raked across her neck. It would rip out her throat if she did not get help. She screamed again and again, struggling, batting at it...

  “Violet. Violet. Violet!”

  Now the wolf was calling her name…but it was not the wolf. She woke abruptly, finding herself in the Duke of Thornton’s arms. She fought him, caught between nightmare and reality. “There’s a wolf,” she cried.

  “There’s no wolf. You’ve had a nightmare.” His arms tightened around her. “Be still.”

  She looked over his shoulder. Two footmen melted away into the darkness. The duke stayed with her. He felt solid and warm, and she realized with a start that he was not dressed beyond a pair of breeches.

  “Am I asleep?” she asked. “Is this part of my dream?”

  “You’re awake. Take some calming breaths.” He let go of her and leaned back a little, settling her in his lap. His broad, bare shoulders seemed to take up a great deal of the space in the cage, but she wouldn’t tell him so. She was terrified he’d leave her and let the nightmares come again.

  “I don’t want to sleep anymore,” she said, sniffling. “I don’t want to sleep.”

  “Why don’t we sit for a while then, and talk together?”

  “You’ve just come from bed.” She cast another gaze over his muscular arms and chest. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “The footmen woke me.” He touched her hand, then let go of it. “They told me you were caught in a nightmare. I did not take the time to dress.”

  “The wolf was in my dreams. He’s been in all my dreams.”

  She felt him take a quiet breath. “It was not a he, Violet. It was a she. A wolf bitch, separated from her pack.”

  For some reason, this disturbed her even more. “She wasn’t well, that wolf.”

  “No.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about the desperate look in its eyes. In her eyes. I suppose she was hungry.”

  “I suppose so.” His voice was very quiet in the dark room. He shifted her closer to him. “She was hungry enough to make a meal of you, and my hound too, if he thought to get in the way. If it had been a pack of wolves, not just that one...” His voice went tight. “Even Cyrus could not have saved you. He might not have saved me.”

  She turned that thought over in her head. She might have caused the duke’s death. The thought of grave harm to the duke did not fill her with glee anymore, or happiness. It made her start to cry.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, burying her face against his neck. “I’m so sorry for what I did.”

  “It’s over.” He smoothed his palm over her back. “That episode is finished. I wish you wouldn’t dream of it again.”

  But she knew she would. After a while, the soothing motion of his hand helped her find calm. She groped in the blankets and located his handkerchief, and balled it against her eyes. It was a sodden mess by now, but she would not have surrendered it for all the gold in Hastings.

  “Do you think the wolf is better off now?” she asked in a trembling voice, looking down at the silk square. “Do you think she is...at peace?”

  “One hopes. The world can be very cruel. Very unjust.”

  She looked up at the gravity in his voice. “So what are we to do?”

  “About the wolves? Or in general?”

  “I don’t know. How are we to go on?”

  “By doing our best and being kind. By using our power where we may, to make things better.” He pursed his lips and pinned her with his gaze. “I did not think you would give up so easily and run away from me. I thought you were made of stronger stuff.”

  “I’m not strong,” she said, looking away. “Everyone is stronger than me. Even Jeannie.”

  “Jeannie is strong, but she’s not a princess.”

  “Why did you punish her?” she asked, to avoid the other line of questioning, which seemed to lead to a very uneasy place. “I was the one at fault. Why were you so harsh with her?”

  “Because she needed me to be. Why else?”

  “She was not angry with me,” Violet said, twisting his handkerchief in her fists. “She was exceedingly kind to me afterward, and sympathetic. She took great care to salve my welts. When I asked why she wasn’t angry, she told me that she tries not to judge, particularly without...without considering the perspective of others.”

  “That seems like a laudable habit.”

  “Yes. And I have never done that!” she said, with growing agitation. “I’ve never cared about anyone else, or worried for anyone else’s feelings.”

  “I suppose you haven’t. Do you regret it now?”

  She buried her face in the handkerchief. “I’ve been awful. I am...I am a terrible person. I understand now what you’ve been trying to show me. I see now why you hurt me so, and I’m not only saying that so you’ll stop punishing me and send me home. I... I truly understand. I’ve said and done so many awful things. I’ve been spoiled and self-centered and petty and entitled—”

  “And you can change.”

  “What if you had died on my account?” She was fairly beside herself now, imagining it. “Or one of your men, or your dog? Your hound...he stood in front of me last night. He tried to protect me.”

  He pulled the handkerchief away from her face so she had to look at him. “A lot of people try to protect you because of who you are,” he said. “Perhaps you might show a bit more gratitude going forward, to all those who try to improve your life.”

  It was true. She had not been grateful for all she had. Even now, even in a cage, punished, ashamed, someone cared for her. Someone was protecting her, holding her in his arms.

  She did not deserve his arms.

  “I think I ought to be punished again,” she said, leaning away from him. “I feel terrible.”

  “You’ve already been punished.”

  “But I didn’t appreciate how much I needed it. I know now that I deserve it. I wish I could be punished right now so I might appreciate the justice of it. But I—I don’t know if it would be possible, with all the welts.”

  The duke gave her a considering look. “I wouldn’t attempt to punish your backside again until at least tomorrow. But I can punish you in a different way, if it would help to quiet your mind.”

  “What other way?”

  “You must realize by now that I’m capable of punishing you in an infinite number of ways.” He sobered. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  She nodded, wondering if she was crazy or at least partly crazy, or still caught in some dream. “I would like to pay for my behavior, now that I truly understand how awful I’ve been.”

  “Come along then,” he said, standing and holding out his hand.

  Violet gazed up at him, enthralled by the powerful display of muscles bunching across his stomach and chest. She’d never seen him in such a state of undress, never imagined a man could be so perfectly formed under layers of clothing.

  But she was not here in this place of discipline to ogle her master. She was here to do penance for her crimes.

  “If I cannot punish the back of you,” he said, leading her out amongst the furnishings, “then the best course of action will be to punish your front.” He led her to the tilted bench. She studied it more closely, noting it was just a bit wider than the other, flat punishment bench. The bottom of the tilted platform was anchored by a long, sturdy piece of wood bolted to the floor. Along the wood were various attachment points, and the ever-present manacles.

  “Lie back upon it. But first,” he said, turning to face her, “you shall have to remove your shift.”

  Violet gazed into his eyes. She had nothing on but her shift, so without it, she would be utterly naked. True, she’d gone around for weeks now with her bottom and the backs of her legs exposed, but this felt like so much more.

  “It’s...necessary?” she asked with a note of anxiety in her voice.

  He spread his h
ands at his sides. “By now, you understand the connection between exposure and punishment.”

  Without meaning to, she raked her eyes over his chest. He stood proudly, without shame, waiting to discipline her. She supposed if he could reveal his body in such a bold fashion, she could do the same. She pulled the shift up and over her head, and dropped it to the floor.

  Now it was the duke’s turn to rake her body with his intent regard. She felt her nipples draw tight beneath his study. Some tension coiled in her middle, and lower down. “How beautifully you’re made,” he said. “Now, lie back upon the platform. Brace your feet against the base.”

  She did as she was told, feeling self-conscious under his lingering gaze. While she got herself settled, he knelt and made some adjustments to the manacles.

  “Spread your legs. Wider,” he ordered, then fixed her ankles into the manacles so her legs were held a lengthy stretch apart. In a way, it helped her balance on the platform, but in another way, it made her feel very vulnerable.

  “Lift your arms over your head, Violet.”

  He ran a finger up the underside of her forearm as he walked to the top of the platform. The fleeting caress made her shiver. He fixed her wrists into another set of manacles and pulled the chains tight, so her arms were stretched taut above her head. The severe bondage made her breasts jut forward. Her legs tensed in their bonds.

  Now that she was bound in this vulnerable position, she began to feel more than a little nervous. She didn’t regret asking for this discipline—she still believed it was the best thing to bring her peace—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid.

  “How, exactly, do you punish someone on their front?” she asked.

  “You start with their breasts,” he said, giving each of her round, upstanding globes a firm smack.

  “Oh,” she said weakly.

  “Does that hurt?” he asked, smacking them again.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Good.”