Elizabeth's Education (Forbidden Lust) by Maggie Carpenter Read Free Book Online

suppressed any petulant outburst, and hurried out again without one word of rebellion. Was he going to punish her again, with a birch rod? What had she done wrong now?
    The thought of fleeing back to the house crossed her mind, but for some inexplicable reason she really didn’t want to leave him, although she didn’t want to be chastised again either. She found what he had asked for, reluctantly wrenched a stout rod free and slowly trudged back to the cabin, full of dread and with tears blurring her vision.
    She went inside and found him standing with his back to the small fireplace, the fire now just smouldering ashes. As she handed him the rod the tears of apprehension began to trickle down her dusty cheeks.
    ‘Thank you, Elizabeth,’ he said, taking it from her. ‘Why are you so upset?’
    She stared at him, puzzled by the question. ‘Aren’t you going to birch me, sir?’ she asked tentatively.
    ‘Why?’ he mused. ‘Should I? Have you done something to warrant it?’
    ‘No sir,’ she replied, still confused.
    ‘Then why would I birch you?’ he asked. ‘Do you want me to birch you?’
    ‘No sir,’ she said hastily.
    ‘I only punish when punishment is deserved, Elizabeth.’ He raised the cane a little. ‘This is for future use.’
    She let out a sigh of relief, fighting the desire to hug him and failing to register his ominous conclusion.
    ‘And now I am absolutely famished,’ he continued breezily. ‘We shall go back to the house for a late luncheon.’ And with that, birch rod in hand, he walked out of the tiny, dingy cabin. She scurried after him, closing the door behind her.
     
    The walk back was more treacherous than the one going. The fairly steep field was soggy and slippery from the heavy downpour, and by the time they made it to the house her knees were muddy from her frequent falls. Eventually they reached the steps to the back door, and he turned and looked down at her.
    ‘Hmm, take off your shoes, Elizabeth,’ he instructed. ‘Smithy’s not here, so you’ll have to help me off with my boots.’
    She let out a little indignant cry. All she wanted to do was go up to her room for a hot bath and change, and now she was faced with this humiliation! But filled with pique and disappointment, she followed him inside.
    He settled himself on the wooden bench against the wall, near the door, and she stood facing him. Never having seen Smithy pull off a pair of boots she wasn’t sure how it was done.
    ‘Turn around and bend over,’ he instructed her, noting her uncertainty. ‘I’ll place my foot between your legs. You take a hold of the boot, move it back and forth, and pull. It’s as simple as that.’
    Elizabeth was horrified. ‘Sir?’ she squeaked, not believing he was asking her to perform such a menial chore.
    ‘Do as I say, Elizabeth,’ he said testily.
    ‘But, sir?’ she said again, her brow furrowed in puzzlement; she was still a lady, after all. Yes, despite her better judgement she had completed the demeaning job of gathering wood for him, but he couldn’t expect this of her, surely.
    Suddenly he had her by the wrists, pulling her forward across his lap again, and once again her dress was rucked up and her bottom exposed. He grabbed the birch rod she’d gathered herself and broke it in half. A few short stinging cuts would do the job, and for the purpose at hand a smaller rod was just the ticket.
    ‘Elizabeth,’ he began, lightly tapping the stick on her bottom, ‘I gave you a direct order.’
    The rod hit her across the centre of her backside and she yelped pitifully.
    ‘You will do as you are told,’ he warned, bringing the birch down smartly.
    ‘Oh, yes sir!’ she wailed. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’
    Two more cuts landed on each cheek and she squealed miserably with each one.
    ‘Now stand up and get in the position I just described,’ he ordered, his voice resolute, all good humour gone. ‘You are to pull off my boots.’
    ‘Yes s-sir,’ she stammered, rubbing