Last post on consensual vs. non-consensual spankings in the stories I write. I have two where the spankings are non-consensual, and they are the two historical stories. I didn't plan it that way. I think it's just that I found it easier to get the characters into a situation where the hero gives the heroine a non-consensual spanking back when relationships between the sexes weren't as equal.
In The Headstrong Miss Henley
, an earl enters into an engagement with an ill-bred American girl. Lord Whitford is basically in it for the money. (Which sounds so crass and unheroic, but he has sisters to support and an estate with servants to keep afloat.) Miss Henley's father wants a title for his daughter, Betty. Betty wasn't consulted, but she's attracted to the earl and longs for a little attention from him. Although not the kind of attention she gets. Lord Whitford is humiliated by her lack of decorum, and decides the only way to get her to behave is to spank her. Non-consensual spankings follow. Although as their wedding day nears, both she and he have learned that a spanking can be pleasurable as well, and the last spanking is definitely full-on consensual. Here's an excerpt from earlier in their relationship:
Betty swallowed hard.
You have nothing to fear, she thought.
The earl is a stickler for propriety.
He is nothing if not committed to following every rule, and it is
certainly against every rule of society for him to bare as much as my
ankle. She felt somewhat better. In fact, there was no possibility Lord
Whitfield could so much as touch her, ensconced as she was in her own home. It would be most improper for them to be
alone together. At the ball, he’d been
able to whisk her off into the darkened garden, but there would be no
opportunity for him to have even a moment alone with her this afternoon.
When
Lord Whitford’s arrival was announced shortly thereafter, Betty was feeling
quite ready to see him. In fact, the
stormy expression on his face when he was escorted into the drawing room gave
her a thrill of satisfaction. He’d
thought he’d bested her, but he truly knew nothing of the woman he planned to
marry. Betty always gave as good as she
got, and usually she managed to give better.
“How
good of you to come to visit, my lord,” Harriet said. “Let me have some tea and cakes brought
in. We—“
“That
won’t be necessary,” he announced, his tone cold and haughty. “All I require is a few moments alone with
Miss Henley.”
“Alone?”
Harriet repeated. “My lord, although you
are betrothed, I can’t allow you to have that degree of privacy. I can, however, take my embroidery over into
the corner and be quiet as a church mouse.
You shan’t even know I’m there.”
Betty
shot a triumphant glance at the earl.
“Are
you aware that your charge, a most headstrong young lady, galloped through Hyde
Park this afternoon?” Lord Whitford demanded.
Harriet
gave a little start. “Surely not. She took her mare out for a ride, accompanied
by a groom.”
“A
groom she left in the dust of her mount’s hooves,” Lord Whitford replied. “I have it on good account. Several members of my club were most eager to
give me every detail. And that is why I
am here. It is my duty to discipline
this young miss for her most unbecoming and most irresponsible display.” He swept his eyes over Harriet. “It is your decision whether or not to give
me permission to administer the appropriate punishment in private. But know this, Mrs. Tittle, if you insist on
staying, I will be most tempted to take you over my knee once I have seen to
Miss Henley’s spanking. You have proven
to be a lax and ineffective chaperon, and in some ways, you are as much to blame
for Miss Henley’s unseemly behavior as
she is.”
Harriet’s
mouth opened, then snapped shut. “You
are soon to be her husband, my lord, and I suppose, in the absence of her
father, it is appropriate for you to monitor her conduct.” With that, to Betty’s consternation, her aunt
scuttled out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She had expected more loyalty.
When
the earl turned toward her, Betty had the wild impulse to beg his
forgiveness. Would he believe her if she
told him Morgiana bolted and that it had taken all her skill to bring the mare
under control? Would he believe her if
she told him that she had confused the Rotten Row etiquette, believing it was
five o’clock when horses were allowed a gallop on the bridle path as exercise
rather than early in the morning when most of the ton was still abed?
Don’t
you dare grovel or plead, Betty thought.
She forced herself to meet the earl’s gaze, although the effort took
almost all her will. “You have nothing
to say for yourself, miss?” Lord Whitfield demanded. His voice was low, but had the bite of a
whip.
“I
don’t believe I do, my lord,” she
answered, hating the tiny quaver she heard in her voice.
“You
don’t believe you do,” he repeated in disbelief. “Was it not you who only last night gave me a
promise of respectable behavior?”
Betty’s
temper rose. Who was he to lecture
her? He expected respect from her, when
he had shown her none. Did he not
consider that it was humiliating for her to attend ball after ball, soiree
after soiree unattended by her fiancé?
Did he not understand that if he wished the obedience due to him as the
husband he was soon to be that he should treat her as if she was to be his
wife, not simply a bag of coin soon to be transferred to him?
“Perhaps
we have a different definition of respectable,” she countered.
“It is
very clear to me that we do, or, if not, that you have no care for my
reputation,” Lord Whitford answered.
His
reputation. Of course. That was all he cared about, what society
thought about him. He cared nothing for her, that had been made
more than evident in these past weeks.
“To my
way of thinking, respectable behavior is at least giving the appearance that
you wish to marry your fiancée for more than money. You wish me to have a care for your
reputation, but you have not concerned yourself with mine. Every time I am seen without you by my side,
I can assure you it is noted, whispered and even giggled over. Did it ever occur to you that perhaps as my
betrothed you should have taking me riding in the park at the fashionable hour?”
Without
answering, without another word, the earl removed his gloves, then his jacket,
which he draped over the back of the nearest chair. He sat down on the sofa, and there was no
question what he was preparing to do as he pushed up the right sleeve of his
lawn shirt. “Come here, Miss Henley,” he
ordered.
Betty’s
knees trembled as she rose, but she walked over to him without hesitation. If he thought his discipline would bend him
to his will, she was determined to prove him wrong. She would take the punishment he doled out
without protest. He would soon see his
methods were ineffective. She was not a
child and his treating her as such would prove fruitless.
She
didn’t wait for him to put her over his knee.
She placed herself across his thighs, hard with muscle, of her own
volition, letting her head and torso rest on the cool silk of the sofa. Betty managed to give a sigh of boredom,
determined to show him how little effect he was having on her. It was harder to act nonchalant when he
placed his big hand on her bottom, but she managed to hold her body still.
“I had
hoped that the spanking I gave you last night would have been enough to
convince you to behave yourself,” Lord Whitford began. “Clearly, I was mistaken, and clearly more
severe measures are called for.”
Betty
gulped, hoping the earl hadn’t heard the sound.
She tried to reassure herself with the knowledge that her fiancé was
quite proper. Certainly, her spanking
would be longer, and perhaps more forceful, but he wouldn’t follow through on
his threat of raising her skirts and petticoats.
“In
addition to the impropriety of your actions this afternoon, do you realize you
endangered everyone in your wake? You
could easily have caused a collision, and injured another or yourself. Do you understand that, young lady?”
“I am
an excellent rider. I knew I could
control my mount,” Betty answered. She’d
wanted to hurt the lord’s reputation, but not harm another in any way.
Lord
Whitfield gave a low curse. Betty’s
stomach tightened. He was angrier than
she’d realized. “Perhaps you are the
horsewoman you claim to be, but everyone in the park is not. You could easily have spooked the mount of a
less experienced rider.” He pressed his
hand more firmly against her bottom.
“This is not the issue at hand.
You and I discussed what was expected of you, and less than a day later,
you have defied me. Tell me, miss, what
did I promise would happen if you disobeyed?”
“You
said you would spank me,” Betty replied.
Her mouth was so dry it was hard to get the words out.
“Yes,
and more specifically?”
Betty
didn’t think she could bear to say the words.
Lord Whitford leaned down until his lips were near her ear. “If you do not answer me, I promise you I
will take your riding crop to you. I see
it right over there beside your chair.
You are quite untidy in addition to your other virtues.” Sarcasm fairly dripped from his lips. “Now, what specifically, did I tell you would
happen if you disobeyed me?”
Betty
drew in as deep a breath as she could. It was difficult. She felt as if someone were compressing her
ribcage. “Specifically, you said you
would pull up my skirt and petticoats, take down my pantalettes, and spank my
bare bottom.” There! She’d said it. And she hadn’t sounded at all frightened, or
at least not so very much. He’d see
whatever he did would be fruitless, that whatever he did would not change her.
“Very
good. I wanted to be absolutely certain
you were aware of why this is happening.
You obviously knew the consequences of flouting the rules of polite
society, and though an American, I believe you are aware that galloping through
the park is unacceptable unless it is a groom exercising a horse very early in
the morning, are you not?”
“Yes,
I’m aware,” Betty answered. She wished
he’d just get on with it. Lying here
completely in his power was dreadful. It
felt as if her heart had begun to tremble.
“Then you must be aware that
what is to happen is completely your responsibility.”
Hmm. I now find myself confused by my own definitions. I was thinking of this as completely non-consensual, because Lord Whitford would certainly spank Miss Henley even if she tried climbing up the curtains to get away from him. And yet, in this scene, she has gone and done exactly what she was told would lead to a spanking, and she's was, in theory, ready to accept the punishment if said behavior would humiliate him in front of society. So I guess that is consensual. Semi-consensual? But it's certainly not as if she agrees that she needs to be spanked or accepts that he has the right to spank her. So I'm leaving this story in this pile!
In the next story, The Scheming Miss Sinclair, Miss Lucy Sinclair has trapped Lord Reece into marrying her by contriving to have them found alone together at a ball. As her husband, Gareth, Lord Reece, feels he has the right to spank her whenever he sees fit. Miss Sinclair does submit to at least some of the spankings, but only because she knows her punishment will be worse if she doesn't. Which I'd say makes them non-consensual. (Although, she and her new husband also discover that spankings can be erotic, and there is definitely the implication at the end of the story that they will be indulging in at least some semi-consensual if not completely consensual spankings in the future.) Here's a look:
She needed to
get away from her bridegroom at once. If
she had to say “yes, sir” or “yes, my lord” one more time she would begin to
scream and possibly never stop. If she
had to endure one more spank, she would begin to cry and surely never stop.
Pain biting into her derriere with
every step, she crossed to the door and peeped into the main room. Several men were in sight, as was a serving
girl not much older than Lucy. Gareth
was nowhere to be seen. This might be
Lucy’s only chance to act. Chin high,
Lucy stepped out of the parlor.
“Gentlemen, I have need of transport to London. My father will happily pay, and most
handsomely.”
“And could you put a number of quid
to this ‘most handsomely?” one of the men, a rough-looking and somewhat dirty
fellow asked.
“Name your price,” she said
grandly. Once her father heard how Lord
Reece had abused her, Lucy knew he’d be willing to pay whatever was requested
and give his most genuine thanks.
“I will return you to London free of
charge at the end of our honeymoon,” a horrifyingly familiar voice drawled. Lucy spun toward the sound and saw Gareth
lounging in the entrance of the inn.
“Gentlemen, I’m afraid my new bride does not feel that I’ve been
treating her with enough consideration, hence her desire to be returned to her
papa and mama.” His words were met with
laughter, laughter that swelled when Gareth confided, “As it happens, I had to
take the young miss across my knee for some naughty behavior, and she has flown
into a temper.”
Lucy felt her face redden, and the
man who she’d thought might have been her savior called out, “Now that’s a
sight I’d like to see.”
“She does have quite a lovely
bottom,” Gareth agreed. He pushed
himself away from the door frame, strolled over to Lucy, and gave her fanny a
smack, then leaned close and whispered in her ear, “If you don’t wish for me to
give these men a show by throwing up your skirts and spanking you here and now,
I suggest you go directly to the carriage and wait for me.”
She realized that escaping Gareth
would take much more cunning, and that her new plan, whatever it turned out to
be, had to begin with the illusion of absolute submission, and perhaps even
devotion.
Lucy dropped into a curtsy. “Yes, my lord,” she answered. The walk across the room felt endless as the
men laughed and laughed, a few going so far as to applaud when Gareth ordered
the serving girl to buy drinks for all in attendance.
Her stomach twisted into knots as
she waited beside the carriage. She told
herself that she shouldn’t fear. She’d
already endured a number of Gareth’s punishments. She could endure another. Somehow, she was not able to reassure
herself.
She almost expected Gareth to haul
her over his knee the moment the two of them were settled back in the
carriage. He didn’t. He simply stared at her as they traveled
along. Lucy was convinced that he was
trying to determine the most mortifying and painful discipline he could
administer.
Near an hour later, he again
instructed the driver to stop. When Lucy
alighted from the carriage, all she could see was countryside. There wasn’t a structure in sight. “I thought a picnic lunch was in order. I obtained the necessary at the inn.” Gareth tossed a bundle up to the driver. “Have a meal and a nap if you desire
one. We’ll take a bit of a walk to
stretch our legs then have our own meal.”
He took Lucy’s hand, his grip firm,
but not at all painful, and they began to walk across the field. “This looks like an appealing spot,” he said
when they neared a lovely willow tree.
He unwrapped the cloth bundle he’d been carrying in his other hand. He spread the cloth on the ground, and set
out several meat pies and two red apples, then assisted Lucy in taking a seat.
It was hard for Lucy to swallow even
a bite as Gareth made polite chitchat about the
view and the weather. She knew
she had punishment coming. She wished he
would simply go ahead and do whatever it was he’d decided on. Her stomach now felt as if it were a small, cold,
lump inside her, and her palms had begun to perspire.
“Would you perhaps enjoy a brief
nap?” Gareth asked. “We have a half an
hour or so before we need return to the carriage.”
“No thank you, my lord,” she
answered. “It is most considerate of you
to ask,” she added, certain that she would not have even the slightest hope of
escape until she had convinced Gareth she would willingly, nay eagerly, comply
with his every wish, that he had her obedience in all matters.
Gareth stretched out on his
back. “I believe I’ll take a rest before
we continue. While I do, you might go
over to that willow tree and pluck a switch.” Lucy’s heart froze for a moment,
then began beating twice as fast and hard as it had been. “To be prudent, why don’t you bring three. We
need to have spares in case the first is not up to the task.”
“Yes, sir.” Lucy walked over to the tree, well aware of
exactly what the task was to be. She
wanted to run. She wanted to pummel him
with her fists. However, she would have
to take his discipline with docility. He
could not know that with each branch she tore from the tree, the fury was
building inside her.
When Lucy returned to Gareth with
the thin willow branches he did not stand or even sit. He remained lying there with his hands behind
his head. He even had the gall to smile
at her. “You’ll need to strip the leaves
off them. They won’t make fit switches
otherwise.”
“Yes, sir.” The words tasted like bile on her
tongue. She vowed she would never speak
them again once she managed to free herself.
“I’ve finished,” she announced, when each of the three branches was
stripped.
Gareth held out his hand, and she
gave him one of the switches. He flicked
it lazily through the air a few times, then slashed it in a wide arc that sent
the air whistling. “They should do
nicely.” He still didn’t bother to sit. “I notice a boulder over yonder.” He gave the switch he still held another lazy
flick. “Do you see it?”
“Yes, sir.” It was hard to keep all traces of her hatred
for him out of her voice, but she believed she managed it.
“Excellent.” He stuck a blade of grass between his teeth.” Take off your pantalets and leave them
here.” He began acting as if he were
conducting an invisible orchestra with the willow wand as his baton. “Once you
have, go bend over the boulder and raise your skirts so that your bottom is
bare. I’ll be over to whip you.”
“Yes, sir,” she said again. The word
“whip” sent hot and cold shivers through Lucy’s body. It took her several tries to unfasten her pantalets
and remove them. Then, as she’d been
commanded, she took herself to the boulder and stretched herself over it on her
belly. Her fingers continued to quiver
as she pulled up her shift, her petticoats, and her dress, leaving her limbs
and bottom exposed. She wondered briefly
if the driver was witnessing her actions, but her fear over what was to come
did not leave room for her to care.
Had he fallen asleep back under the
tree? Lucy wondered what seemed like a
quarter of an hour later. When would he
come to her? If he’d simply come with
her over to the boulder, they would be finished by now, or she hoped so. She tried to twist around enough to see him,
but couldn’t manage it and stay in the position he’d instructed her to
take. She wasn’t going to move, not if
night fell and she was still there with her bottom on display. She was going to be everything that was
dutiful, devoted, and respectful until she made her escape and got her
revenge. Bent over that boulder, Lucy
promised herself that said revenge would be full and mighty. She tried to consider various hideous things
that could be done to Gareth, but her fear had mounted into near-terror as she
waited, her entire body tight with apprehension.
She felt something light brush
against her bare thigh. Was some sort of
insect crawling on her? She reached back
and tried to flick it away, but it simply moved higher, seeming to slide up the
crevice between the cheeks of her buttocks.
She moved to flick at it again, and a line of fire crossed the back of
her hand. She yelped and began to jerk
upright.
“I wouldn’t advise moving.”
The sound of Gareth’s voice had Lucy
immediately pressing her belly tightly back against the boulder. “Forgive me, sir. I didn’t realize… I thought some sort of insect was on my
person.” How had he moved right up
behind her without her detecting him?
Perhaps it was because he was half serpent. Lucy decided not to share this observation.
“That is not the case,” he
answered. She thought he sounded
amused. Fury mixed with her fear; the
fear was stronger.
“I am fairly certain you know
precisely why I’m about to whip you, but let’s be certain. Why are you about to be punished, my lady?”
Because you are a brute! Lucy wanted
to exclaim. A brute who somehow
disguised himself as a handsome sweet-natured man for years upon years. “I am to be punished because I tried to
escape from you at the inn,” she answered.
She was proud that her voice hadn’t trembled, although perhaps it would
be intelligent to let him see the apprehension and fright roiling inside
her. Surely if he were to whip her, he
wanted her to fear him.
“That’s right. I have decided you deserve five stripes. After each, I expect you to thank me,” he
told her.
“Yes, sir.” She hadn’t determined whether or not to show
fear, but her voice quavered without her volition.
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut at the
whistling sound made by the willow switch.
She had once been stung by a bee and when the switch hit her flesh, flesh
that had been spanked and paddled so recently, it was like a dozen of those
stings, hot and biting, in a row across the top of her bottom. The pain took her breath and her ability to
think.
“Since you did not thank me, I will
have to give you a repeat,” Gareth informed her.
Lucy began to cry. “I coul-could n-not breathe, m-my lord. And so I could, could, could not s-speak,”
she stammered.
Yeah, I'm confident that was non-consensual. So here's a recap of where my stories fall on the Consent Scale. (Though most of the stories end up with consensual spankings by the end.)
Consensual
1. Taken in Hand. Gigi makes an appointment at Real Fantasies to get a spanking, something she's been fantasizing about for years. For Gigi, it's all about erotic fulfilment.
2. Asking for a Spanking. Katie's life is so out of control that she asks her handsome professor neighbor to help her--by giving her disciplinary spankings. But she does ask!
3. No Pain, No Gain Madison hires a trainer to help her get into shape and lose weight. She doesn't read the small print that says she gives the trainer permission to spank her.
4. Time for a Spanking. Elise agrees to take a paddling from the school principal, so her daughter doesn't have to. (I'm ranking the semi-consensual spankings by how much leverage the spanker has over the spankee.)
5. A Spanking for Santa. Henry, dressed up as Santa, picks the wrong house to rob. Single-mom Marci offers him a choice: he takes a spanking or she calls 911. He's actually not that unwilling to take the bargain. Getting spanked by a cute woman in her bedroom doesn't sound so bad. Wrong.
6. The Naughty List Briony hates the idea of her assistant--her assistant!--spanking her, but he'll turn her in for tax fraud if she doesn't go over his knee.
7. Spanking Bridezilla. Henry loves his bride-to-be, but her selfish behavior makes him hand out an ultimatum: she takes spankings when he thinks she needs them or the wedding is off.
8. Better Watch Out (Cause Santa Spanks) Helen's husband gives her a choice: accept a spanking or he'll take the kids to his parents' for Christmas, leaving her alone for the holiday, and then he'll ask for a divorce.
9. The Headstrong Miss Henley. It's a battle of wills between Miss Henley and her fiance, Lord Whitford. He spanks her every time she misbehaves. She won't stop misbehaving because she finds that her behavior humiliates him in front of society, and that's the only way she has to punish him.
10. The Scheming Miss Sinclair. Miss Sinclair's new husband, tricked into marrying her, is determined to show her she made a huge error because he now owns her, body and soul.
Non-Consensual
I find I'm still in the mood to write a few more Regencies, so I suspect there will be more non-consensual spankings to come!
