Chapter Thirteen
Faith
Waves of anger radiate off him. I can’t believe he found me. I thought I’d remained well-hidden. After I glimpsed guardsmen searching the streets and calling out my name, in my panic to escape detection, I’d taken up residence in the last place I thought anyone would look. The boughs of the Christmas tree are thick, and there’s a fence around the tree as well, preventing anyone from walking too close.
“Faith,” he says in a strained tone that I don’t understand. He doesn’t want me anymore, so why has he gone to such lengths to find me? Why did he have all the guardsmen out looking for me? It doesn’t make sense. “Faith.” This time when he says my name, he sounds as angry as he looks.
I press my lips together to keep myself from uttering, “Papa.” Even after his rejection, I can’t bring myself to call him Mr. Freemont. But if I refer to him as my papa out loud, I’m certain I’ll break down in tears. As I stare at him now, it’s a bitter struggle to hold back the floodgate. My eyes sting and my throat burns with the despair of total heartbreak.
He jerks me out from under the tree, holding up the bough until I’m free, and then pulls me toward the fence with a tight grip on my upper arm. One of the mounted guardsmen happens by just as he lifts me over the fence, and papa shouts for the man to procure a carriage. Within five minutes, a carriage arrives, and I’m practically pushed inside. Though I’m confused and angry, I don’t fight or try to escape. Papa’s grip on my arm is too strong, and his visage is so dark and menacing that I fear he’s on the verge of violence.
I shudder and wrap my arms around myself, trying to make myself small as I sit next to him in the carriage. A thousand questions rest on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t dare speak. Instead, I focus on my hands folded in my lap and concentrate on breathing.
Don’t cry. He’s planning to get rid of you anyway. He doesn’t deserve your tears.
I keep trying to talk myself into hating Papa, but the emotion never burns bright in my chest. A sense of vulnerability and anguish resonates in its place, and before I realize it, a lone tear has trickled down my face.
But before I can swipe it away, Papa does it for me. He brushes his thumb over the fallen tear, then produces a soft clean handkerchief from his pocket and dabs it to my cheek. My bottom lip quivers, and I burst into sobs, his simple act of care breaking me down into pieces.
“Shh, little one. Hush now. Papa is here.”
He draws me close in his arms and strokes my hair.
How can he do this? How can he be so tender in this moment, when seconds ago I’d been sure he was about to snap and unleash his fury upon me? The tears fall harder, and he only tightens his embrace and keeps uttering comforting phrases in my ear. His warm breath tickles my neck, and I can’t bring myself to pull away from him. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze tight, wishing and praying that maybe, just maybe, he’s not truly planning to get rid of me.
“Why did you leave, little one? Did I hurt you last night? Or is it something else?” He pulls back slightly and wipes my face with the handkerchief, even blotting at my running nose. “Please, Faith, I must know why you ran. I’ve been worried sick about you.”
I swallow hard and meet his eyes, trying my best to build up walls around my heart and brace myself for the moment of truth. The moment he confirms his plans to dispose of me in thirty—no, twenty-nine—days. I won’t stick around and wait on the rejection when I know it’s coming.
“I-I heard you talking to a man in your study this morning,” I say. “You were making plans for the house you intend to set me up in. We-we have only been married for one day, and you have already decided you want to get rid of me when the thirty-day trial is up. So I left. I don’t want your help, and I don’t want your money or your stupid fancy house that’s in the nice part of town. I will be fine on my own.”
For a few moments, he stares at me in silence, his entire body tensed. Then he exhales a long breath and his shoulders relax. “Oh, Faith. My sweet girl.” He hugs me and moves to cup my face in his large, warm hands. “I wasn’t making plans for a house to put you up in. Far from it. I’m trying to find a new property for the girls’ orphanage. A large house or building that can also serve as a boarding house for women of any age who might find themselves in need. I swear to you, I’ll always be your papa, and I won’t wish to get rid of you after thirty days. To hell with the trial. You are mine, and mine alone.”
The carriage rattles to a stop, and he presses a kiss to my forehead.
His confession echoes in my head, over and over, like the sweetest song.
He never planned to get rid of me, after all. Sheer relief courses through me in waves, and I exhale a steadying breath and reach for his hand that’s still cupping my face. I lean into his touch and caress the back of his hand.
“Oh, Papa. I-I don’t know what to say. I’m so relieved. I-I was so hurt thinking that you didn’t want me anymore. I thought maybe you didn’t enjoy what we did last night, or that maybe you never planned to keep me forever all along.” It wouldn’t have been the first time someone abandoned me, but I realize it’s no excuse. I should’ve confronted him before running off. I shouldn’t have left without a goodbye. If I’d been more reasonable, I wouldn’t have spent the day hiding under a Christmas tree in the cold while Papa conducted a frantic search for me. Guilt weighs me down heavily. He must have been beside himself with worry.
My stomach flips. What have I done? Will he forgive me for running off? I gulp and peer into his dark gaze, hoping we can somehow heal the rift between us.
“I plan to keep you forever and ever, little one.” His face and his tone both harden. “But I also plan to redden your naughty little bottom. You put yourself in danger today, and your safety is something I take very seriously.” He tips my chin up with one finger and leans closer, his eyes level with mine. “You will never run from Papa again. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Good. Now, let’s get you inside and all warmed up.”
* * *
Kingston
“Into the bath with you,” I say, helping Faith step into the warm water. Luckily, she’d dressed for the weather, even doubling up her stockings, so she hadn’t gotten overly cold. But I still want to ensure her comfort. As she rests back in the tub, I spoon bites of vegetable stew into her mouth. Once she’s finished eating, I wipe the corners of her mouth with a hand towel and pull the plug to drain the water.
She’s quiet as I dry her off. Surely, she must realize the spanking she has coming will be a hard one. I’m not as angry as when I first found her, but I’m still displeased by her running off. A young lady should never roam the streets of Gerrardsville alone after sunset, and though she was hiding, there’s no telling what might have happened if a man with ill-intentions had spotted her first. Not to mention that the temperature has dropped drastically since the sun has gone down, and even the layers she wore today wouldn’t have kept her well-protected during the nighttime hours. I steel myself to be firm with her. I intend to make sure she never considers running away again.
Now that she’s dried off, I lead her into the center of the bedroom and force her to stand there while I make a show of rolling up my sleeves and dragging the tall-backed chair out from the wall. Her legs are pressed tightly together, and my gaze is drawn to the apex of her thighs and the outline of her smooth bare cunny lips.
“Place your hands on your head, and spread your legs, little girl,” I command.
She obeys, and I move forward and cup her center. Dipping one finger within her folds, I bite back a groan when I find her soaking wet. She trembles and whimpers, but I don’t touch her clit, and I soon withdraw from her cunny completely.
She’s been naughty.
Penance first, and pleasure later—if she’s a good girl and takes all of her punishment with minimal fuss. I certainly have no intention of rewarding naughty behavior, and I tell her as much, causing her to flush and peer at me with wide, pleading eyes.
“I-I’ll be compliant, Papa, during my spanking. I promise.”
“All right, little girl. Over my knee.” I take a seat on the chair and guide her over my lap, making sure to drape one leg atop hers to better hold her in place. “Faith,” I say, caressing her bottom cheeks, “tell me why you’re over your papa’s knee right now about to get a spanking.”
“I-I was naughty, Papa. I ran away when I should have talked to you instead. I, um, put myself in danger and made you worry a lot.”
“I’d say that about covers it.” I shift her forward on my knee, forcing her bottom up higher. “This is going to be a quick but very hard spanking. But first, girls who are especially naughty get their bottom holes filled up. I intend to make this lesson a long-lasting one.” I reach into my pocket and withdraw the butt plug and the small bottle of lube.
“Papa?”
I splay her ass cheeks apart and trickle a generous amount of lubrication atop her quivering hole. She tenses and then starts wiggling around, and I give her a warning swat to make her settle down. “You will hold still for this, young lady. Having a plug in your tight bottom hole will keep you from clenching these little cheeks of yours. I intend for you to feel the full impact of every single smack.”
Shuddering breaths leave her, but she finally settles down, and I press the tip of the plug to her snug, untouched hole. “You have the cutest little rosette, Faith. Sometimes Papa will touch you here for pleasure, but right now is not one of those times. Right now, this plug in your hole is strictly for punishment purposes.”
She whimpers time and again, and twists slightly, but I manage to push the tip of the plug into her, breaching her adorable pucker with the bulbous head of the thing. I give her but a moment to become accustomed to the intrusion, then I inch the plug further into her tightness.
Once it’s fully seated, I release my hold on her cheeks and press one hand to her lower back. I lift my other hand, preparing my aim.
Someone is about to become one very sorry little girl.
I smack her right cheek first, then the left one, and repeat this process with firm slaps that soon have her gasping for air. Under my punishing hand, her bottom soon turns a bright shade of pink. Her shoulders heave with her sobs, and though I hate to see her cry, this must be done. She must learn I won’t let her run away from any problems we might have.
Each time she involuntarily clenches her bottom cheeks, she emits a loud gasp, no doubt as she feels the fullness of the plug. I give her ten final hard slaps, most of them delivered to the tender curve where her behind meets her thighs, before stopping and resting my hand on her heated flesh.
“Faith, my God, I love you. I realize we’ve been together for a short period of time, but in that short time, you have become my whole world. I will not let anything happen to you, ever, and I will not let you go. When I said to hell with the thirty-day trial, I meant it. You’re mine.” I turn her over and gather her in my arms, cradling her to my chest as I hold her tight. Emotion sweeps through me, the gravity of what I’ve just said settling over me alongside a newfound sense of peace.
“Papa, I’m yours,” she says, framing my face in her hands. “And you’re mine, too.”
“Forever,” I whisper.”
“…and ever and ever,” she agrees.