Titus did not sleep for many hours after leaving Rose. He sat at the writing desk in his room, looking down at a sheet of paper. It was divided into two columns, one headed, “Go,” the other, “Stay.” In the first column, he had written:

Too old for her

It’s a crush, she’ll break your heart

She is better suited to a society match

You don’t want to settle down

You have manipulated her into loving you

You are her tutor

You are being employed by her parents

You will no longer be able to teach

You will be outed as a failure if she remains little

It can’t possibly work

It is madness

His eyes ran down the list, his pencil in his hand. As the light of the candle began to die, he moved up to the second column and wrote three words.

You love her

With a curse under his breath, he crumpled up the paper and threw it into the fire. “What to do?” he asked out loud. Jonathan was wrong for her, that much was true. But what if her love were nothing more than a first crush, powered by lust rather than her heart, what then?

He was no closer to an answer by the time he finally climbed into bed, pulling up the covers before blowing out the candle. In the darkness, he saw her face, the smile that lit up her eyes, the innocent doting look she had when she curled up on his lap to hear a story. She was a few feet away but the distance seemed much larger. He slept poorly that night.

The next morning, he awoke in a far better mood. The sunlight seemed to take his worries with it, leaving him happy to let fate take its course. He breakfasted alone, Rose joining him after receiving a bottle from Mama. “Good morning,” he said as he wiped the last of the crumbs from his mouth. “Do you recall what I told you last night?”

Rose nodded. “That you would punish me for my tantrum.”

“Correct. I want you to bend over the table with your dress pulled up. You will remain there whilst I finish my coffee.”

He picked up his mug, sipping at the contents whilst watching her. She had her chin on the white tablecloth, her arms by her side, her dress resting on her hips. He took his time, only standing up once the mug was emptied a quarter of an hour later. The servants cleared the table, not one of them daring to mention why the daughter of the house was in such a position.

Once they were gone, Titus stood up, rounding the table to stand behind Rose. He tugged at her nappy, sliding it down her legs to her ankles. “Remember this?” he asked, picking up the crop from the cabinet near the door, swishing it loudly back and forth through the air.

“I do,” Rose said quietly.

“I thought maybe you’d forgotten it. If you remembered how this felt…” He brought the crop down onto her posterior with a satisfying smack, “…you would not have dared to tantrum like that.”

The crop whipped through the air again, landing on her buttocks on almost the exact spot as the first time, her backside reddening as the skin lifted into a welt where he had struck.

“You must control your temper,” he said, bringing the crop down thrice more. “It does not become you to tantrum like that in public.”

“Yes, Papa,” Rose replied, her voice a high squeak. “Please, no more. I will be good.”

“You will.” The crop whipped through the air half a dozen times in quick succession, each blow causing Rose to inhale sharply. By the final strike, her hips were wriggling as if she were trying to avoid the crop. Titus was gratified to see she remained in place though, even after he set the crop down beside her.

“We are going out this morning,” he said, sliding open the drawer of the cabinet. “You will keep this in for the duration of our walk.”

“Keep what in?”

Titus brandished a brass plug towards her face, giving her a slight glimpse of it before moving behind her once more. “This is called a plug,” he said whilst coating it in grease. “It resides within you; it will teach you self discipline. You will need to convince the world there is nothing wrong with you, that you do not have it buried inside you whilst we are out in public.”

He nudged the tip of the plug between Rose’s buttocks, pressing it firmly towards her until with a shocked gasp, she widened enough for it to plunge inside. At once her hole contracted around it, leaving only the base protruding into view. “How does that feel?” Titus asked.

“A little painful.”

“Try standing up.”

Rose turned to face him, her expression changing, her eyes widening. “It is so heavy, gravity tugs at it when I stand.”

“I know. Now let’s get you into a grown up dress and then off we go. Mama will be waiting for you upstairs.”

He waited by the front door for her to return. When she descended down the stairs, he couldn’t resist a smile. Though she looked stunningly beautiful in her dress and coat, it was the way she walked that beguiled him. She was trying not to show her emotions but they were plastered across her face. With each step, her nostrils flared, her cheeks were red as if she were standing too close to a raging fire, her shuffling steps made him want her all the more. He found himself wanting to remove the plug and replace it with him, his member stiffening at the thought.

“Off we go,” he said, taking her arm and leading her out of the door.

“Not so fast,” she replied. “It rubs me so much if you go fast. I can hardly bear it.”

“I am in charge, if you recall. Or do I need to bring the crop with me to remind you?”

“No, Papa, I am sorry. But please, allow me to walk a little slower, I beg you.”

“Very well. I suggest you do not call me Papa in public though, it may confuse those who know you.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Sir, I like that. That will do nicely.”