Read Online Taught to Serve by Jaye Peaches - Free Book Online Page B

inaudibly.
    “A tapping on sensitive parts. I’m not talking of a swish and a whack. On no, my sweet Casey. I can see you bent over.”
    “Bent over,” she repeated.
    “Hands grasping your ankles.” His fingers moved across the table until they reached the edge, then he sent them underneath to where neither could see. Her thighs were clamped together. Casey squirmed as he explored her posture.
    “Tightly,” she added. “I don’t want to fall over.”
    “Little taps, flicks of my wrists, and a pattern will appear on your gorgeous behind.” Rob envisaged the activity in his head and immediately felt invigorated from his jet lag.
    “No welts?” she queried.
    “Most assuredly not.” His finger drifted up her legs, under the hem of her skirt, and onward.
    At that precise moment, the numerous antiquated clocks in the house began to chime eight o’clock. Casey’s eyes locked onto Rob’s own.
    “Part them,” he said with determination.
    Her legs fell apart, and he was close to his goal. Her chest rose and fell as she waited for the tip of his finger to caress her.
    “I thought you were tired,” she reminded him. “Sir.”
    The addition of the deferential title stripped away any lasting fatigue. “I was, but not any longer. You will not be punished, Casey. You did nothing wrong other than to be careless with your grip on your phone. However, maybe a few taps of my cane will help wipe out those little worries you have harboured all day.”
    “Yes, sir. They would.”
    His fingers hit their target, and Casey tossed her head back with a groan.
    “Upstairs, now!” hissed Rob in her ear.

Chapter Seven: Setting the Table
     
     
    Casey was bored. A bright girl, she was not keen on repetition. Spicing up her life was what made things exciting—especially sex. Now, she could not complain about Rob. He kept her satiated the moment they hit the sheets. He might appear staid and uninteresting as he sat in his study, but once they were in the bedroom, well… professor or not, he knew how to set her on fire. So she just could not understand why he made her do the most boring tasks.
    Today was typical. His task appeared simple—set the dining room table with three places for a three course meal, red and white wine glasses, and a tumbler for water. Napkins placed neatly between cutlery. Off she had gone to the spartan dining room and done the deed. She fetched the cutlery canteen, which contained the silverware, the white linen napkins from the drawer in the sideboard, and the glasses from the cabinet. It only took minutes, and she went to tell Rob she was finished.
    Naturally, he came to inspect, and he walked about the rectangular oak table and grimaced with dissatisfaction. Casey deflated like a balloon. She had done something wrong, and she hated the sensation of letting him down.
    “What?” she asked nervously.
    The list turned out to be long, and she gawped at him with disbelief. Cutlery not lined up with the table edge, the napkins folded incorrectly, glasses spread unevenly, and where were the condiments? Her mouth opened and shut like a goldfish, especially when he told her to bend over a dining room chair.
    “Now please, Casey,” he said with a raised eyebrow.
    Casey mentally stamped her feet in annoyance and then did as she was told. She had decided the best approach for keeping on top of the knickers situation—pulling them up and down like a flag on a pole—was simply not to wear them. She knew he loved the idea of her constant exposure to the air. He even occasionally ran his hand up her thigh to check her status. She blushed every time he did it.
    Six hard swats of his hand landed on her raised bottom. A tiny ouch left her mouth on the last one, which she considered unusually hard. Standing up, she listened carefully to his advice. He showed her how she should lay the places and added she should find some placemats, as he did not want the table ruined with spillages. He then left her to