THE STRICT BRITISH BARRISTER: ACT ONE by Maggie Carpenter Page B

came over me,” she whimpered. “I feel so stupid.”
    “Such childish behavior, Brittany, and yet you are a successful, confident, young business woman. I don’t understand it.”
    “I know, it’s weird. I am confident, but then I’m not, and I make stupid choices, like, uh, coming in here,” she confessed. “I thought maybe taking this cruise by myself might make me a bit braver.”
    “Sneaking into my cabin was certainly brave, brave and daring.”
    “But it was daring stupid, not daring smart,” she mumbled.
    “I’m not a psychiatrist,” he said thoughtfully, feeling his anger subsiding, “but I think I understand your problem. I might be able to help you? I warn you though, your bottom will be sore more often than not. Are you interested?”
    “Yes, definitely, please,” she said earnestly. “I know I’m an idiot, but-”
    “You can stop right there. Statements like that don’t fly with me. You’re not an idiot, understood.”
    His eyes were blazing at her, and gulping, she nodded her head.
    “Yes, understood,” she replied softly.
    “In a few days I’ll be heading back to London, and you’ll be returning to that small town of yours. I need to know you’ll commit to me for duration of the cruise. Can you do that?”
    “Yes, absolutely, yes,” she nodded, even though I know you’ll break my heart.
    “You did what you did so I would spank you. Well, young lady, I am going to spank you, but I suspect it’s going to be more than you bargained for.”
    “I, uh, don’t know what to say,” she mumbled.
    “No doubt,” he sighed. “If you’d simply waited until tonight I would have given you a pleasant, smart spanking, one that would have made your toes curl. Now, however, you must be disciplined, and that, Brittany, is a very different matter, very different indeed.”

CHAPTER NINE
    I t was with a slow, practiced ease that Duncan prepared Brittany for punishment; it began with a blindfold, the satin sash off his black silk robe. Once in place he guided her to the side of the wide, cushioned sofa arm where he unzipped her slacks, dropping them around her ankles where he left them to act as a restraint. Next came the neck tie wrapped around her wrists, then the sofa pillow put in place to stifle her yelps and cries. Clutching a fistful of hair he lowered her forward
    To Brittany the entire ritual had sent trembles through her body, and goosebumps popping up on her skin, and when he lowered her torso across the sofa arm, it felt like a very long way down. Her bottom felt high and exposed, provocatively poised for punishment.
    “Duncan?” she quivered.
    “Sir,” he snapped.
    “Sir?” she said hastily, “why have you tied me up and put me over the couch like this? I thought I was going over your lap.”
    “Did I make any such promise? You assumed, just as you assumed you could control events,” he scolded. “You will learn very quickly that you have no control over me, and you will suffer the consequences if you attempt anything like this again. As to your wrists being tied, it’s simply makes my job easier. No more conversation, and use that pillow to stifle any noise you care to make.”
    “I’m so sorry, Sir,” she exclaimed. “Honestly.”
    A hard, unexpected slap landed on her on bottom, eliciting a loud yelp of pain.
    “I told you, no more conversation. I mean what I say, Brittany, and you’d best pay attention. Bury your head in that pillow if you insist on making a racket.”
    She felt, more than heard him walk away, and a moment later the sound of the television filled the room.
    “If we were in my home I would be spanking you to the music of Mozart, or Beethoven, but here I must worry about passers by. Regardless, you stifle your squeals in that pillow. Understood?”
    “Yes, Sir,” she whimpered.
    She wanted to add that she already felt punished, that she knew how horribly she’d messed up, that he didn’t have to spank her as severely as she was afraid he was