Awakening

“Little did they know, the land belonged to a witch.”

Mary clutches Anna’s skirt as she sits in her lap, letting out a gasp. “Oh no, Anna, I don’t like witches.”

“Bloody hell Mary, it’s only a story.”

“John,” Anna chides, slapping at his knee.

“I know it’s only a story. I just don’t like stories with witches,” Mary explains to her brother, chin raised high with pride.

“Well then perhaps Anna should read the one about the wolf who eats the little girl?” John sneers.

She’s about to chastise him again, explain that his sister is only a child and there’s no reason to be so unkind. But before she can open her mouth a deep voice startles all three of them.

“I know that story.” Hall leans in the doorway, arms crossed and coatless, his shirtsleeves rolled up revealing his forearms. He looks about as carefree as one can. “From what I remember, it doesn’t end so well for the wolf.”

“What happens,” Mary asks with genuine curiosity, unaware of the awkwardness that has settled over them all with a strange man in the school room. Anna can feel John’s questioning glance asking why this man is here.

It’s a good question, as it’s wholly inappropriate for him to be in here, not to mention that he demanded she keep the children away from him. Yet here he is, strutting in their room as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ll tell it to you another time, poppet,” she intercedes before he can continue. Lifting Mary from her lap, she stands. “Can I help you, sir. I’m afraid I don’t know where the other gentlemen have gone.”

“Riding,” he answers plainly.

She’s unsure how to respond, as that was the only excuse for his presence that she could come up with on the spot. “Oh.”

She and the children watch as he begins a trip around the room, his long legs striding slowly as he scrutinizes his surroundings, picking up books only to read a few lines before setting them down again, glancing at the slates and sums on the desk as he passes by, and spinning the globe before finally leaning an arm atop it and finally coming to a stop in front of them.

“Why isn’t he in school,” Hall questions of John as if it were his right to.

“Anna thinks it’s better if I stay here,” John explains, chest puffed out like he’s defending her.

Hall turns to her, an expression of interest crossing his face. “Does she?”

She’s about to explain her decision, that growing up in an orphanage showed her how uncaring and even tormenting places meant for children can be. Then she remembers that this man has no say in the lives of these children, and she doesn’t have to answer for the choices she and their father make for them.

“I think a boy should be around other boys at this age, don’t you agree, Miss Smith.” The cold formality of her surname pains her in a way she doesn’t understand, yet it’s how it should’ve been all along, really.

So why does it bother her?

With a bravery she doesn’t feel, she stands tall against his direct gaze, daring her to collapse beneath it. “What you think doesn’t matter, sir. Now, do you need something or shall I call someone for you.”

She watches his expression as it alters from surprised and impressed to something darker and lustful. Something not at all appropriate for a school room, and she worries she may have made a disastrous mistake.

Hall takes a slow, methodical step forward, meant to make her cower, drop her eyes or step away. But she feels John as he stands closer beside her and she knows she has to be stronger here.

“Send them away, Anna,” Hall orders, quiet and calm, yet with a subdued darkness that makes her skin feel overwhelmingly sensitive, the fabric of her dress suddenly becoming too constricting, and the chill of the room making goose flesh appear down her arms. Or perhaps it was the way her name slid dangerously from his tongue as his eyes bore into her.

Her chest heaves in fear, anticipation, confusion. She doesn’t know. “This is their school room-”

“They’ve an entire manor and grounds to play in. Send them away. I won’t say it again.”

Stomach heavy within her, she nods obediently directing John and Mary from the room, hands firmly on their backs. “Outside, before it rains. Not too far.”

John begins to struggle against her, just enough to make her pause. “Anna,” he whispers, “I don’t want to leave you here. He doesn’t seem like the good sort.”

Her chest is so full she has to smile. Never in all her time spent as an unwanted child would she dream of someone to care for her the way these two do, sweet blue eyes peering up at her with worry and love.

She clears any emotion from her throat before speaking. “Nonsense, all will fine. I promise. Be sure to watch your sister.” And with that, she closes the door behind them, as quick as possible before they can begin reading all manner of things hiding behind her eyes.

The room is deathly quiet now, her heavy breathing and blood rushing within her the only sounds she can discern as she rests her forehead on the door. She doesn’t know what to do - what to expect.

“I know we spoke of your obedience, but we did not speak of respect.”

She slides around to face him, body leaning heavily against the door, legs feeling much too weak to hold her up.

“I thought it went without saying, pet.” Silence stretches long and taut between them. His eyes speak to her, but it’s as if it’s in a language she hasn’t yet learned. But she wants to, she admits to herself. Desperately.

Without a word, he takes hold of the back of a chair, moving it till it’s against the wall across the room from her. He sits leaning forward, arms resting on his thighs, hands clasped loosely between his knees. He appears like a disappointed father. He swallows hard before speaking, the only show of him being affected.

“On your knees.” The order comes out easy and polite, as if they’re speaking of pleasant, chaste things. But that only makes it all the more exhilarating.

It takes a moment for her to decide, and like a gentleman, he gives her the time she needs, until inch by inch, door holding her all the way, she slides down, grey grown fanning out around her like a pool, and she at the center. The lady of the lake.

“Now, crawl to me.”

Her heart beats furious and free, and she can hardly breathe, chest so overwhelmed by the complexities and weight of emotions rising within her. Carefully, she bends forward, hands finding the solid wood of the floor. She takes another moment to breathe, to calm herself, and to push away all thoughts scrambling for purchase in her mind till finally, all’s quiet.

She peeks up as she begins her trek, entire body aflame at the sight of the man before her, staring at her with serious, enigmatic eyes, and taking in her every movement like oxygen.

She trips up twice, knees crawling on her skirt, forcing her to right herself before continuing. She assumes him to be smirking or laughing at her every time she looks back up, but his face never changes, continuing to wait for her patiently.

She stares at his boots when she reaches him. The idea of catching his eyes in this moment, too much. But of course, he requests it. That seems to be all this man does to her, pushing boundaries and limits she didn’t know she had. Forcing her to face not only fears but herself as well.

“Look at me.” When their eyes meet he inhales deep, nose flaring, and she sees the beat of his heart beneath his loose cravat, just as wild and helpless as hers. And she feels suddenly powerful in a way she never has before.

He helps ease her up off her hands so she’s sitting on her legs, neck having a much better time of it.

“From now on,” he starts, voice gravely with need, “you will not only show obedience to me, but respect as well. And every time you do not, you will be punished.”

He’s quiet, scrutinizing her face as he allows his words to sink in. She doesn’t know what he finds, she couldn’t tell him if she wanted to, her mind and body suspended in a surreal place, a place she never knew existed, and it’s stolen all her thoughts. But he seems satisfied with whatever he sees there.

He trails the back of his fingers down her cheek, gliding so soft and slow it makes her sigh, pushing her face into his touch. His thumb caresses her bottom lip, back and forth until her mouth is open and panting. He must see it as an invitation, slipping his thumb inside across her wet tongue and a sound comes from deep within her, a breathless needy sound that makes her blush.

He presses his thumb down harder, making her grunt as her tongue slides against his finger. She has an overwhelming urge to close her lips around him. When she does, his eyes go wide and his breath catches, and her worry of being laughed at disappears.

“You can be quite the good girl, can’t you.” He slips his thumb from her mouth then begins maneuvering her to his side. “I’ll keep that in mind. But now it’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions, yes?”

She doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t be afraid, pet,” he murmurs into her ear, making her shiver, before bending her over his lap.

Then it’s like her senses return to her as she begins to see where this is heading, panic taking hold. “No sir, please,” she begins to repeat, turning her head over her shoulder to catch his attention, but he’s already lifting her skirts and petticoats onto her back, only her split leggings to cover her.

“No,” she cries out harder, struggling against his hold. “No sir, please stop!”

But he’s strong, one hand holding her skirts along her back and pressing her down against his thighs, while the other comes around against her cheek.

“Anna! Anna, calm yourself,” he tries to soothe, but it’s too much, too embarrassing as she feels the cool draft against her bare skin, her sensitive flesh wet and throbbing while on display for anyone to see.

“Robert, please.” Tears begin to form at the thought of someone walking in, seeing parts of her no one ever should. “Please, please let me go.”

“This is meant to be your punishment, silly girl,” he explains with ****, pupils blown making his eyes appear black. “If you insist on disobeying, you will be punished twice.” That makes her stop, cheeks wet with frantic tears as she closes her eyes, head turning to once again hang over him. “Wise decision.”

She feels the heat of him before his actual touch, hand caressing her reverently over her leggings. Her body is stiff and aching, the tension of so much buildup beginning to boil over. Then his hand slips under the split fabric, skin on skin as he continues to caress her. She sighs as the blood begins rushing to her head, fingers holding onto his thigh for dear life as she rides out these new sensations.

A gasp escapes her when his fingers probe lower, deeper, and she slams her eyes shut tight trying to hold herself still despite a **** ache to move with him somehow.

“You’re being a very good girl.” His words of praise make her feel as if she’s glowing, muscles easing along with her erratic breath. Then she feels his searching finger push inside and she squeaks at the sensation, jaw dropping and body becoming taut all over again.

“Robert,” she breathes, not knowing what else to do. Mind gone with only panic and pleasure left to spill over.

He only answers with soft shh’s and such a good girl’s as he begins a rhythm of pushing and pulling within her, breaking her down with every slide of his finger. She presses her face into her arm, trying to ignore the embarrassment of how wet she feels, at how much he can feel, what he thinks of it, and of the obscene sound it makes as he works soft, breathy moans from her.

“Jesus, pet.” He also sounds breathless, she thinks, chest rising and falling fast against her, helping to ease the embarrassment some.

Finger slipping out, she can feel the wet trail as he travels lower. But before she has time to be disappointed at the loss of him, she’s gasping at this touch in a new place. He rolls his fingers sweetly against her in alternating light and hard, fast and slow circles, till she’s struggling against him - or perhaps with him. Her whole self has begun to disappear, all that remains of her is this one point he caresses with diligence.

“Please. Please.” Her lusty pants seem to stir him on, moving over her faster and harder. Finger invading again, but this time it’s more, stretching and burning and marvelously full.

“Such a good girl, pet. So good for me.”

She tries to hold back her broken moans, biting her hand - she thinks she tastes blood - but it’s useless, unable to control them or their volume.

And then she’s falling, no longer able to balance on the precipice of such **** passion and overstimulating sensations. She’s thrown into herself once again with a sharp slap, making her jump in Hall’s lap with squeak. She turns back to see him, just in time to watch as he lands another blow against her backside.

“Robert?” she questions, head full of cobwebs as she tries to make sense of what’s happening.

“From now on, how will you treat me?” His voice is strict and low, and before she can completely recover she’s greeted with another smack.

It stings, making her cry out, but it also begins to sober her up, blunt nails digging into his thigh as she comes to her senses. “With obedience,” she breathes.

Smack

“And what else?”

Her teeth bite into the sensitive flesh of her lip as she tries to prepare for the next hit.

Smack

“What else?”

He sounds angry now, and it sends a thrill up her spine, part of her not wanting to give in, part of her wanting to see how far she can push him.

Smack

It hurts for certain, but she can’t stop the moans she releases. When he hears it she feels fingers slide into her mussed hair, clutching hard enough for her to feel a sweet sting.

“Answer me, Anna. Be a good girl.”

She wants to refuse, wants to make him drag it out of her so she can hear his growls and huffs and pants of his own. But the reminder of his gentleness too, changes her mind.

“Respect,” she breathes. “I’ll treat you with respect, sir.” Head turned, she makes sure to lock eyes with him when she says it, and she sees a fire there, sees that his usually pale face is pink and flush and alive. And it feels empowering to see him so undone and unraveled just because of her.

His hold loosens, and he helps ease her up from his lap, skirts sliding down on their own. She bites back the pain, not only from the stings on her backside but also her body after being so long in this odd position.

Together they move her between his legs, nuzzling her face into his neck as she clutches at his collar, cooing when he smooths a trembling hand down her disheveled hair.

“I think this is going to be a lovely beginning, pet.”