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“I’m waiting, Lucille,” Edward said softly, and she flushed anew as she remembered she was required to ask for correction.
Lucy gritted her teeth, and briefly wondered what would happen if she simply remained silent. After all, if she specifically asked for a spanking then she was essentially to blame for the paddle descending to crack against her flesh.
“Would three strokes per problem help you concentrate on what is expected of you, young lady?” Edward asked, and she knew she’d discovered the answer.
If she remained quiet then her punishment simply increased. Swallowing hard, she shook her head even as she choked out, “I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry I failed my quiz. May I please have a spanking?”
When still nothing happened, she turned to look back at him. Meeting her gaze, he slowly shook his head and tapped her bottom briefly with the very tip of the paddle. “This isn’t my hand, Lucille. You aren’t going to be spanked; you are about to be paddled. Correct your request and remember, it is ‘my’ paddling, not ‘a’ paddling.”
Her face burned with the injustice of it all, but she simply desired it to be over. Practically spitting out the words, she tried again. “I’m sorry I failed my quiz, sir. Please, may I have MY paddling now?”
“Is that truly the tone you wish to take, young lady?”
“No… no, it’s not. I’m sorry, sir,” she said, wondering if she’d ever learn that sass would only earn her a hotter bottom.
“Very well. Yes, you may have your paddling.”
With that, Lucy forgot her determination to remain stubborn or defiant. The sound of the wood slapping into her bottom was sharp and clear in the room. The paddle bounced off her bottom after each crack and she raised her head and cried out with every stroke. Perhaps if her bottom had not already been so tender, hadn’t already ached, she might have managed to remain quiet and take the punishment with dignity. As it was, she felt the paddle reignite the pain from her birching as it slapped against the weals that covered her bottom from the top all the way to where the globes curved into the juncture of her thighs. “Ohhh, please,” she cried after the first six had been given.
“Bottom up, Lucille,” he reminded as he changed sides to begin the second half of her count. These swats were just as heavy and hard as the first, and her cries were carried out the open French door that allowed a cooling breeze to waft about the room though it was doing absolutely nothing to ease the burn on Lucy’s burning posterior.
Edward finished her paddling and after being given permission to rise, Lucy tugged the fabric of her bloomers back into place and adjusted her skirts. Her bottom throbbed hotly as she swiped the tears off her face, obediently stammering out her thanks for his discipline. Her heart raced as she watched him replace the paddle on its hook.
“You’re welcome, but know this, Lucille. If you fail the quiz again, you’ll discover what a razor strop feels like as it takes a bite of your naughty bottom.”
Her eyes were glued to his hands that ran down a black length of leather that had her bottom clenching tightly. Giving her little time to compose herself, he closed the cabinet’s door, took her arm and led her back to the table.
Now she was sitting on her throbbing bottom and was mortified yet again, and trying to fight the desire to simply bury her face in her hands and sob. She saw a fresh sheet of paper slide in front of her and picked up her pencil. She lifted her eyes to the page expecting yet another column of numbers for her to process. Instead, she saw ‘I’m sorry’printed across the top of the page and understood that her teacher considered it his fault she had failed the quiz. She felt fresh tears welling as she raised her eyes to his. He smiled down at her and then sat and covered the page with the quiz she had just taken. She saw that she had answered most of the questions correctly.
“You did well, Miss Furniss,” he began, as he removed his handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to her.
She blushed, remembering the handkerchief pressed into her mouth the day before to keep her silent. She knew he was only offering what comfort he could, so she accepted it and used it to wipe her eyes. She attempted to return it but he shook his head.
“Please, keep it. Perhaps you will consider it a token of my remorse, in that I feel partially responsible for the… for your—”
“Paddling?” she offered, a bit shocked that he seemed to know what had transpired behind the closed doors of Edward’s study. She regretted her rudeness when she saw his face flush with discomfort. She should have remained silent, for she had truly embarrassed the man who was trying to help her.
Charles cleared his throat. “I was going to say failure, but, Miss Furniss, I don’t consider it a failure. You only missed a half dozen problems out of fifty. If this had been the final exam, you do realize you would have passed?”
The words seemed to hang in the air.Passed? She had just gotten a hard paddling for a score that meant she would have passed!
Lucille found herself smiling despite the irony. She saw him return the smile and she lowered her gaze. “Obviously I did not do well enough to pass Lord Wintercrest’s expectations though, did I?”
“I suppose not, but Miss Furniss, you’ve come quite far in the few hours we’ve had. Your only difficulties were in working with negative numbers.”
Lucy sighed, her pencil tapping at the sheet of paper. “I’ll never be able to do this. I simply don’t understand how negatives can become positive. How can you have negative anything? I mean, if you don’t have something to begin with, then I don’t understand how you can suddenly have something.”
Charles took a moment as if thinking about her words and then chuckled. She looked at him in surprise and saw his grin widen.
“Miss Furniss, you don’t have to understand to do well.” Evidently seeing her confusion, he leaned closer. “I confess that sometimes mathematics doesn’t tend to make sense. What you need to do, Miss Furniss, is to simply stop thinking.”
“Stop thinking?” she asked wondering if she had heard him correctly.
“Yes, don’t think about why. Simply memorize the equations and the rules. Unless you are planning to become a mathematics professor or an engineer, or have a career as a banker, I see no need for you to understand higher math. You have more than enough knowledge in order to oversee the accounts and run a household of your own one day. If your goal is simply to pass the exam on Monday, then just stop thinking and memorize. Can you do that?”
She found herself nodding, even as she glanced over her shoulder back toward Edward’s study. “Do you think I can memorize enough to pass the next exam? I mean, make no mistakes at all?”
“When are you being given another chance?”
