I married the Earl of Kendall Hall after nine years of belonging nowhere. I wanted a place. Structure is the only thing that has ever steadied me, so I cannot make myself refuse him.

He gives an order and my whole day arranges itself behind it. He has never repeated one. Last night the correspondence ran late and he raised my skirts at the study desk. His hand, and nothing said about it. He finished the letters afterward as though nothing had happened. I could not.

That is the shame of it. Not the desk. That I let the letters run late so the evening would end there. He says turn around and the floor goes soft under me.

A letter from the crown sits on the blotter and his temper is in his shoulders. He will send the servants off. Raise my skirts. Correct me until I am quiet. Take me across the same desk. The crown can strip him of the earldom by Michaelmas, one whisper leaves me with no place at all, and I am counting the hours to that study door. What am I if I grip the edge of that desk? What am I if I never learn to want anything else?

A full-length Regency corporal punishment submission erotic novel featuring an isolated bride and the earl whose commands order her days.