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Chapter Ten
He held out his hand and Plum took it.
“Come along, young lady.”
A frisson of lust ran through her at his words and the anticipation flared as playing went from an academic exercise to something that was going to be happening very, very soon. Like, now.
Gideon led her up a narrow staircase to a small upstairs and pointed out the rooms as they passed.
“Guest room, bathroom, linen closet, and here…”
Plum had been distracted by the big antique clawfoot tub in the bathroom but now she turned to see Gideon’s bedroom. It wasn’t large but it was comfortable and warm. Worn dark wood floors and white walls with a big bed that had a chest at the foot of it. A crucifix on the wall which weirded her out a little, but what did she expect? She was about to get spanked by a priest. Of course there’d be some Jesus involved and if that made it more taboo, then great.
“Are you ready?” he asked her, just above a whisper.
“Mm-hmm,” she responded, because she was more than ready. She’d been thinking about this all through coffee hour and she couldn’t wait to be held across Gideon’s thick thighs. Or would he make her stretch out on the bed? It could be more comfortable, especially if he propped up her hips with a pillow or two, but she really enjoyed being over her top’s knee—being close to them, being held down. It was so personal, so warm, so achingly intimate.
Gideon sat at the edge of the bed and guided her to stand between his knees, and she could see the moment he shifted into his role. Not that he hadn’t looked intense before, but his whole posture was different, and his grip on her hand changed in a way that made her stomach flip.
“Miss Brolingtide. I was glad to see you in church this morning.”
“Yes, Father,” she responded, making doe eyes and rolling her lips between her teeth, shifting her hips.
“However,” he said, lifting one of his brows into a perfect curve. “I do believe we’ve discussed what is and what is not appropriate church attire and it appears you’ve chosen to once again ignore my expectations.”
Plum shrugged and dropped the innocent act, replacing it with a sassy and confrontational girl who thought she knew better.Shewanted to provoke and torment the man in front of her and didn’t give a shit about the consequences. What would the intensely underrated Rizzo from Grease say? “Sorry, Daddy. My habit was in the laundry.”
A muscle in Gideon’s jaw twitched like he was holding back a laugh and Plum felt a burst of pride. See, hedidthink she was funny.
He closed his eyes and sighed, sounding put upon and long-suffering. As if this was the hundredth time he’d had to correct her behavior instead of the first. He was fun to play with. She just hoped the spanking itself wouldn’t be disappointing. Although she would be surprised if it were; Gideon was obviously conscientious and experienced and that was usually an excellent combination. Also it was nice that he wasn’t precious about being a priest—although she would’ve understood if that particular role play was a bridge too far.
“No one expects you to dress like a nun, Miss Brolingtide. I do however expect for you to be respectful. You are to address me as Father Gideon.”
“Not sure what the difference is, Daddy,” she said, wishing she had some gum to snap.
“You were just going to be reprimanded for those inappropriate stockings but it looks as though that won’t be sufficient for curbing your impertinence.”
“What did you have in mind? Saying a hundred Hail Marys? Writing lines? Staying after Sunday school to polish candlesticks?”
Really getting into it, Plum formed an open fist with the hand of hers Gideon wasn’t clasping, and made a jerking off motion. She was sure his look of shock was exaggerated but it delighted her nonetheless and her anticipation grew.
“Oh, yes, you’re going to need to be taught a very serious lesson, young lady,” he growled.
Before she could respond, she found herself tugged over his lap, toes barely able to touch the floor, and her hand pinned at the small of her back. Gideon hauled her closer, pressing her against his body. She loved the feel of his warm torso through his shirt.
“Other hand, now.”
Startled by the harshness of his demand, she complied without thinking. Not that he would ever really hurt her. If he was a member of Hive he knew what was up. They had a reputation for being a super strict club that looked out for its members. Some people in the community rolled their eyes because they thought Hive could be too stringent, but she’d always respected them for being willing to kick people out and not accepting bad behavior.
He flipped her skirt up and she kicked her heels, squirming, knowing full well she was trapped in his vise-like grip and a little struggle wasn’t going to do anything to change that. There was a gasp from above her and then he hooked a finger through her thong and tugged, drawing the satin tight in her crack, making it press against her asshole.Fuck.
“And your stockings were just the tip of the iceberg. These underwear are…barely existent!”
His splutter was hilarious and she struggled to not crack up. Then it was her turn to gasp as he released her thong and snapped her garters against the backs of her thighs. It was nothing to a firm slap or, God help her, a paddle or a tawse, but it still smarted.
“Not so mouthy are we now, are we, Miss Brolingtide?”
“Fuck you, you smarmy old pervert,” she spat, affronted he thought that was all the fight she had in her, and wanting to provoke him into spanking her. Hard.
