Free Poor Little Rich Slut by Lizbeth Dusseau Page B

feel my haughty resolve starting to crumble.
    “Yes. I suddenly find myself nursing a passionate desire to punish you.”
    Every alarm bell in my body went off hearing that operative word. “Punished, why?”
    His eyes bore into me with a ruthless energy I’d not felt from him before. I admit, I was scared, though feeling a mounting arousal brewing beneath my fears. Apparently this sort of condescending treatment was something that turned me on.
    “Punished? I could say it’s because of that crazy outburst at breakfast,” he started, “and I suppose in part it is. But the truth, God’s honest truth? I’m finding myself really, really turned on wielding my authority over you.”
    Oh, yes, I was scared. And likely just as turned on as he was, enjoying the feeling of dread, while relishing the depravity I saw in his eyes as I wondered what terrible things he’d do to me next. This was not the same light-hearted hero who ripped away my virginity the night before. But I think I liked this man as much as I did the kinder one.
    “So call your father,” he demanded.
    It took a moment for me absorb what he meant… yes, of course, call Daddy to apologize and excuse myself from the meeting—as if I’m some fainting, insignificant female.
    I finally reached for the house phone and dialed my father’s number, all the while staring at Garrison. I was afraid to take my eyes from him.
    “Daddy…” I started to speak once my father answered. I rattled off a reasonable explanation for my behavior at breakfast, looking at Garrison for approval. “And I think I’ll skip your meeting with Garrison. I’m sure he’ll keep me posted if there is anything I need to know.” The man sounded relieved that I bowed out so gracefully—if he only knew why.
    The phone receiver clattered noisily back in its cradle, while the diminished, submissive me seemed to be basking in the put down. Garrison’s brutally patronizing expression had quickened every sexual nerve in me and suddenly I had no will of my own.
    “Now, call down to Angelica. I’d like her here.”
    “Why Angelica?” I questioned without thinking.
    His nostrils flared.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, that was the wrong thing to ask. I reached for the phone again, this time dialing the housemaid.
    She would meet us in the attic at Garrison’s request.
    ***
    Fifteen minutes later the three of us met in the attic to play out the punishment scene. I hadn’t stopped trembling, nor had my arousal done anything but soar as the thoughts of retribution and reprisal took hold of me.
    “So, do I punish you for last night or this morning’s unfortunate outburst?” Garrison said, facing me squarely like a father dressing down a child.
    I knew better than to answer the question.
    “How about just on general principles?” he suggested.
    That sounded good to me. I shivered so bad that I’m sure both Garrison and the watching Angelica could see that I’d broken into a cold sweat. My hands were clammy and my body seemed to ooze with the stench of the previous night’s sex. I wondered if the two could smell those sour pheromones as easily as I could.
    “Undo your robe,” he ordered.
    I hardly shrugged and the silky thing seemed to slip right off my body, leaving me stark naked in front of my housemaid and employee.
    Angelica smirked in a saucy, lurid way that made me feel even more demeaned.
    “Better hold on because this one’s going to hurt,” he pointed to the dusty table, where the cane still lay.
    As if the caning hadn’t hurt?
    But he didn’t use the cane this time. He pulled a wooden paddle from a satchel he’d brought with him. As I was bending over the table, I saw the large round business end and closed my eyes in fright. Would it hurt worse than the cane? I had no clue since I was new to this sort of thing and the feelings that accompanied it. I hardly had time to catch my breath before the first smack hit.
    Whack!
    The sudden blow nailed me to the table with an