Bedtime Brushing
Written By: Measha Stone
© 2009

“You could have come out of the gaming room at least once to dance with me,” Catherine’s voice carried through the massive bedchamber as she glided behind her changing screen. Molly, her maid, followed her behind the silken screen to help see to her Lady’s comfort.

“I was doing business, Catherine,” Stephen answered once again to her complaint of his in attentiveness. He waved his own man away and decided to undress himself for the evening. He pulled free the cravat from around his neck and went about unbuttoning his jacket.

“Business! I was bored!” she called out at him. “That old man from the colonies would not cease in his attempts to gain a presence with you. I had to listen to his drivel for ages whilst you were off playing cards with your friends!” Molly appeared from behind the screen and past by him to ready her lady’s dressing table. His wife then appeared in her white chemise still carrying a scowl on her breathtakingly beautiful face.

“That old man, as you insist on calling him, can and will make us a great deal of money in the colonies. You best be courteous to him. Call on his wife, invite her for tea,” he dictated from behind her. She sat perched upon her cushioned bench looking at herself in the mirror. She pointed to her hair and Molly began the lengthy task of removing the firmly placed pins.

“I will do no such thing,” she answered him, glaring at him through the mirror. “If you have not a moment for me, I surely have no time for you or your American cohorts,” she turned her gaze away from him and so did not catch the darkness wash over his expression. Molly, however, watched her employer’s soft brown eyes transition to nearly black, his left eyebrow raise up, and what had been a slight smile had changed abruptly into an angry pucker.

Stephen moved to stand in front of his wife, leaning against her changing table and glaring down at her, willing her to look up at him. “You will do such a thing. You invite over women of greater distaste then an American, you will call on her tomorrow,” he directed her.

“I repeat. When you have time for me, I will give you the benefit of my hospitality,” she argued, keeping her gaze on the mirror. Stephen nodded to Molly in dismissal, she curtseyed quickly nearly tripping on her skirts during her exit. Catherine sighed heavily at the sight of her maid fleeing the room and began to pluck the pins from her hair herself, making no secret of her annoyance at the task.

Stephen lightly fingered the sterling handle of the hairbrush laying on the table as he continued to speak with his wife. “Catherine, I understand that you were left to your own devices this evening and that you found such an act on my part to be undesirable. However, it was unavoidable,”

“Unavoidable!?” she interrupted him with another tirade. “I was humiliated when Lady Pennington asked where you had run off to for the third time! Even the most uncaring husband will appear to take one dance with his wife!” she lectured him, his eyes narrowed even further with each raise in her voice.

His fingers wrapped tightly around the elongated handle of the brush as he made another attempt to speak to his wife in a calm manner. “You will not raise your voice to me. You will cease in your child’s tantrum and you will see reason.”

“Bah!” she tossed the last pin onto the table, ran her fingers through her long blonde curls and pushed herself away from the table. Her back being turned to him was the final straw. Stephen picked up the brush and walked purposefully towards her.

“Very well then.” he gritted his teeth. “Attention is what you ask for, very well, you shall have it, My Lady,” Stephen reached her side within two strides and gripped her upper arm. Her shriek of surprise did not delay him in the least. He dragged her to the arm chair beside her dressing screen and sunk into hit, pulling her face down over his lap.

Catherine landed heavily over his knee, her hair cascading in front of her blocking her view of anything other then the carpeted floor before her. She realized quickly enough his intentions and she began to squirm and buck against him. He easily wrapped his left arm around her waist and held her perfectly in place.

Having nothing more to say to his wife he raised the brush and brought it down on her upturned bottom rapidly, the thud from the brush echoing off of the walls. She screamed out with each stroke of the brush, but he would not be deterred. He held onto her tightly as he continued his assault on her thinly clothed backside.

“You wanted my undivided attention,” He reminded her as he gave her a brief reprieve so that he could pull up her chemise. He slid the thin material over her smooth buttocks and bunched it at her waist. He looked down at his wife’s bottom and felt a surge of yearning for her.

Her bottom was his favorite part of her body, so smooth, round, and plush. He loved to spend his evenings admiring her bottom, stroking her rounded cheeks, and finding her warmth, however, this evening it was quite a different warmth he was looking to achieve.

The blushing bottom before him was wiggling a bit from the harsh spanking he had already delivered and was tense in anticipation of what was to come next. Her hands were pushing at him, trying to release herself from his grip, but she was no match for his strength.

“Let me be!” she called over her shoulder at him and she struck at his leg with her balled up fists.

“Strike me as you wish, you are getting everything you have coming and if you continue this you will earn more!” he informed her and brought down the brush onto her bared bottom harshly again and again. She yelped, wiggled, screamed, begged and demanded with each new sting of the brush.

He continued to rein down the spanks to her lovely derriere evenly, not sparing a spot. He focused more on her upper thighs the longer her tirade continued. He slowed in his pace only when he felt the weight of her balance out over his knee.

She was no longer squirming and hitting at him. Her screams and demands turned into soft whimpers of acceptance.

“You will call on Mr. Darlington’s wife tomorrow and you will apologize for not doing it sooner,” he enunciated his demand with a sharp slap of the brush to her right thigh.

“I will,” she promised with a slight nod of her head and a sniffle. He rested the brush on her well heated bottom and rubbed her back gently.

“You will never speak to me again in such a tone, with such disrespect,” he stated and used his bare hand to pepper her bottom again with spanks. When he was sure that she would be feeling her swollen backside for at least the next day he helped her to stand before him. He stopped her from sliding the chemise down over her bottom. “Keep it up over your backside. You’ve been properly punished and I wish to see my work. Take yourself to the corner whilst I change,” he ordered and with a small nod she was off to do his bidding.

He kept his eye on her as she stood in the corner, her delicate hands holding her chemise over her bright red bottom. He quickly finished undressing and walked over to where she was standing.

“I love you, my dear,” he whispered into her ear as he stood behind her, feeling the heat of her bottom pressed against his desire. “If I did not, I simply would move you to your own chamber and be done with you and your temper,” he explained as he gathered all of hair and draped it over her shoulder, giving him access to her neck. He nuzzled her gently and she moaned in response to the dance of his lips over her skin.

“I am sorry I acted such a brat,” she apologized to him as he continued to run his hands over her body. He stopped when he reached the bunched up chemise and pulled her hands from it. He used his own to pull it up over her head and tossed it aside.

“You really should learn to take cues. Molly knew well before you, what was in store for you,” he turned her around by her shoulders and tucked his finger beneath her chin, a blush had taken over her cheeks.

“Molly knows?” she asked having just realized he was right.

“Yes, as well as every servant on this floor, your cries were so loud,” he captured her lips with his and pushed her against the wall, nearly crushing her with his passion.

“They know?” she questioned as he released her and took her hand to lead her to their bed.

“That you have been thoroughly thrashed? Yes,” his eyes held merriment as he sat her on the bed and she winced at the discomfort. “But what is about to transpire next will be what is on their tongues for the rest of the week,” he promised as he pushed her down onto the bed and climbed in beside her….

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