Unmannered and Impatient Ch. 01

"Not quite," I said. I knew exactly what the effect had been. I had caught them at it more than once. Lord Lippincott would do something obviously wrong, and then later on, if you walked by her room, you would hear him yelling and apologizing, and the site was even more surprising.

"What then?" he said, genuinely curious.

I felt so groggy still, the aftereffects from sleep interrupted. I didn't know if I actually wanted to inform him of what his aunt did with her lovers. "I don't know if I can tell you. It's quite scandalous. I wouldn't want you to be shocked," I said teasingly.

He smiled, incredibly intrigued by my patronization despite himself. "What then? I bet you don't know."

And then in that moment, I decided I did very much want to tell him. I wanted him to know exactly what I thought his behavior deserved. "She spanked Lord Lippincott, and from what I've heard others before him."

"Spanked?" he said dubiously. "You're too gullible or you think I am."

"Most times with a hairbrush, with him draped over her lap, and his trousers taken down."

"You're joking!" he said. "We never heard the likes of this before."

"I found out after you'd gone. I'll prove it if you like. You're sitting on the desk with the implements." I had caught them the first time, when I was 14. And after that I'd sometimes lurk, trying to find out more. When she had moved to India with Lord Lippincott, her room was untouched and eventually I asked to take it over. It was then I discovered the whole of her private life, including a private journal with many notes.

She had never been a mother figure to me. She had never been unkind, but we had never been close. I arrived here as I was leaving childhood at the age of 10 — too young to be leaving childhood really, but circumstances pushed it forward. She was a woman who had decidedly never married and decidedly never wanted kids. She remained to me now closer to a distant eccentric aunt. And discovering this treasure trove of miscellaneous items had been a salacious secret rather than an awkward family matter.

He stared at me and then started to rustle around the drawers. "All locked," he said. "How convenient."

"From what I remember neither a locked door, nor a locked drawer would stop you."

His eyes brightened with genuine delight and his head bobbed at many unspoken memories. "You remember many of our childhood endeavors. All right then," he turned around and felt for the key on various surfaces and cubby holes. Eventually finding something resembling a key.

He put it in the keyhole. "Not even that far away," he said. He pulled out a hairbrush.

"It's a hairbrush," he said. "It proves nothing, just that she brushed her hair."

"Find one of the other drawer keys," I commanded with a wave. Each drawer had a different key, one of which I had never discovered, but there were two other keys in close proximity to him.

Thomas turned around and rummaged through the various items on the desk, finally finding the second key in a book. He tried the different drawers until he got one. Still one of the top drawers. He started opening it and it gave way with a creak. He then looked back at me, the drawer only a finger's worth open. "What do I get if you're wrong? Do I get a dance promised to me?"

"I won't be," I said. I had looked through the drawers many times and I was now eagerly anticipating his expression.

He opened the drawer and brought out... "A paddle." It was a 20 inch paddle with two lines of round holes. His expression was rather muted, and lacking the scandalized look of surprise I had been hoping to affect, but I was able to extract the satisfaction of his rather smug smile being momentarily wiped from his face.

"For harsher punishments, I believe," I said.

"Why does it have holes in it?"

"Decreases wind resistance I'd imagine," I said.

He hit the paddle on the desk and it made a loud crash that seemed to shock him more than me. He shuddered. He put the paddle back in the drawer, locked it and put the key back. There were many others in there. I think he might've been afraid and for once I imagined my expression more smug than his own. He turned back toward me with the hairbrush in his hand and rested himself against the writing desk in a manner that was practically sitting. "Does this even hurt?" he asked, staring at the brush. "Looking at the other implements, it seems like it would barely rate."

It did, I knew. I had gone and stolen it one time and tried it on myself. Even with ineffectual hits, there was quite a sting. I could only imagine what happened with some aim.

"It may look small and harmless, but you underestimate it at your peril," I said instead. "It is fast and effective and if you'd have thrown a pillow at her, you'd have felt it too." I was outright lying at that statement. As far as I knew, she only spanked her lovers, Lord Lippincott being the last and as far as I know the current, but I was pretty happy teasing him at the moment.

"I still have a hard time buying it. She never hit me when I lived here as a child and there were many times I deserved it."

"Nor me," I said honestly. "But her tolerance for boys who are growing into young men was much greater than her tolerance for young men that still act like boys."

He had a huge grin at my jab and I felt the respite from his self-satisfaction had been all too short-lived. "She always liked me fine. I'm sure she still would have tolerated me just fine."

"That would have made it more likely, not less. She only corrected the behavior of young men she cared for. If she was here, I'm telling you, she wouldn't have put up with it."

He chuckled. "You sound disappointed that it's not happening."

"I wouldn't be sad if somebody should take you to task in general."

"You could do the honors," he said challengingly. "You are now officially the 'lady' of the house."

I knew what he was doing, he was increasing my ire for the fun of it. I was already crabby from being woken up and annoyed at him for his behavior so far. There wasn't much further ire to get out of me. "I don't like being lied to as a joke and I don't like being woken up for someone else's sport and I don't like men trespassing in my room without an invitation. You give me the hairbrush and I just might."

He tossed me the brush with a smile and I caught it. It was a dare. He didn't think I would.

"All right, come here then," I said with a confidence more emulated than felt. I shifted my sitting position to be more upright, brought myself to the full right side of the divan, and shifted my whole body back from the front of the seat to make room for him across my lap. My face was flush with fear and excitement in equal measure and I could feel an anxious energy in my chest and shoulders. He was going to be the person to back down. No more children's games. I could handle you now that I was grown. I could mostly handle you then.

He came over. "Should I pull my trousers down then?" he said joking with me.

"We are not lovers," I said back. "So you should keep them on."

"All right," he said, moving his whole body over my lap, grabbing the end of the divan to lower himself down.

I realized almost immediately the impropriety and intimacy of what we were doing. We had wrestled as kids, but how long ago was that. And now here he was and his very grown form was draped across me, his hips across my thighs. It was the first time I had really had a chance to notice his strong back, his well formed shoulders, but especially his very well-defined haunches, which was currently the whole focus of my attention. I did especially love that part of a man, and now I was getting a chance to play with it. My, I thought, here we are grown and we're still playing dangerous games.

"I'm here," he said looking up at me with a smirk. He thought it was here I was going to back down.

"Adjust yourself forward," I said, trying to take control of the situation. He was already well positioned, but I felt a further order wouldn't hurt. The divan was holding most of his weight, which I was grateful for, as he had grown quite a bit and I imagined his weight upon me might have been more substantial otherwise.

He moved a little further forward in response to my words, which elevated his butt ever so slightly and I decided that no, in fact, that was quite a bit better after all.

I took the hairbrush up and brought it down with a fwap. It was a weak first hit and I quickly followed it up with a few others in succession. Smack. Smack. Smack. I started raising it higher and putting a bit more force into it.

His back went from a relaxed curve to a more rigid posture. As I continued, I felt him get hard across my legs and more awkwardly start moving about as well. Whether to avoid touching me or whether to better rub against me, I wasn't sure, since it appeared to accomplish neither goal. This was just like him.

"Hold still," I commanded him. He immediately stilled upon my lap and I started hitting him with even more fervor, getting a muffled but satisfying smack through his trousers. Soon his hardness was lost, and I was getting into a rhythm. I started spanking him three on one side, then three on the other, which had him clenching and moving away from the brush's hits despite my instructions. I went a few moments longer and decided now was as good of a time as any to stop. Surely it hadn't been terrible over clothes, but I was confident it had made an impact, enough of one for him to regret his dare at least, if not coming into my room.

"You may rise," I said.

He didn't move at first. He seemed to take a deep breath and then he pulled his arms up and pushed himself up from the chair in an elegant, powerful gesture, made all the more enthralling by his prone position just moments ago.

He shook his head as he got up. And he still had his charming smile, but he also looked somewhat disheveled, like he had been close to crying. He forced his genial laugh out. "Well, it's one thing to know I've displeased you and another entirely to experience your displeasure. I'll have to remember that for the future."

He then quit the room quickly.

"Indeed!" I said more confidently than I felt in a hushed voice after he left. "And perhaps you'll also remember to obey a closed door."

I picked up the pillow he had thrown at me from its resting place on the floor and used it to curl up on the divan again.