It’s Saturday, so you know what time it is. Take a peek at this #SatSpanks excerpt and grab Duty Bound!
She collapsed from Medlock’s lap, crawling towards Turner instinctively. Cardinal Turner met the crying women with open arms, scooping her up against his body, and holding her there. Solace. That was what she needed now, and that was all he offered. For the longest time there was silence, save for the throaty sobs which escaped Delia’s mouth from time to time, but after a while, even those began to calm.
Medlock and Brogan roused, shifting from their places and taking up new locations as they waited to see what would happen. How would Delia be feeling when her head cleared? Would she be receptive to the new ideas the three of them had in mind now that her daily penance had been observed? But they knew better than to force things. Serving God had taught them patience, and they waited for the little lamb to stir.
After a while, her face lifted from its place against Turner’s vestments, the scarlet of his robes wet from her tears. She blinked down at the wet patch she’d created, blushing lightly in acknowledgement.
“I’m sorry, Cardinal.” Her words were little more than a murmur.
“No more apologies today,” he told her softly. As he spoke, his right arm shifted from its place around her and meandered to her hot, tear-stained face. Turner brushed away the dark hair sticking to the side of her face, the soft caress capturing her attention immediately.
“Your absolution is close, Delia. Just a few more days and we feel sure you’ll have earned God’s forgiveness.” Her brows knitted at his words, and the hand at her face travelled lightly to her right cheek, Turner’s thumb stroking the flesh there tenderly.
“A few more days?” she croaked. “But, Cardinal, I don’t know how much more I can bear.” Delia’s hand slipped reflexively to her punished backside as if to reinforce the point.
“I know,” Turner replied. “You will be sore, but that is the point. A punishment which does not sting will not change your future behaviour. But you have done so well already. We know that you will bear it, Delia, and then your sins will be cast aside.” She sighed, the sound loud in the silence of the room.
“I hadn’t expected this to be so…” she hesitated, searching for the right word. “Tough.” Turner smiled.
“Nothing good comes without effort, little lady.” He drew her face closer towards him, and to his relief, she didn’t offer any resistance as his large fingers guided her forward. “There shouldn’t only be effort though.” Turner’s words were a low, sensual whisper, vibrating over her body. Delia’s eyes widened, and despite her obvious discomfort, she shifted on his lap.
“No?” she asked, biting her lower lip. “What else should there be, Cardinal?” Turner’s loins stirred at her question, and he noticed how large her pupils had become. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn the little lamb was open to his advances.
“Reward,” he told her. “A reward for all your efforts. God is merciful, remember?”