Interrogated at the Business End of a Crop #DungeonCrawl - The Darlington Incident - Regency spanking story

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I am thrilled to announce the imminent release of my latest Regency spanking romance - The Darlington Incident.

In this scene, Darlington, a spymaster, is interrogating Miss Hunt after he finds secret war plans in her trunk. The two had a mutual attraction previously, so Darlington is quite put out to find she is not who she seemed to be...

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“I found the papers, Miss Hunt.” She recognized the menacing voice. It belonged to Lord Auburn--or whatever his real name was--and the difference in it sent chills down her spine.“To whom will you sell them? Or did you buy them?” He sounded angry. He did not release the tight grasp around her waist, but he eased his hand from her mouth for her answer. “I do not know what you mean!” “Do not lie to me!” he shouted, giving her a shake. He dragged her forward, pushing her belly down over an old saddle lying on a crate. The gate house appeared to be used as overflow for stable equipment, the smell of old leather and hay filling her nostrils. Pulling her wrists behind her, he tied them with a cord.“What are you doing?” she cried in alarm. “Silence!” he snapped and she heard the sound of something swishing through the air a second before a line of fire across her backside made her scream. She looked over her shoulder to see Auburn flexing a riding crop between two hands. Panicking, she struggled to stand up, but he pushed her torso back down, leaning his hand on her low back. “Your rabbit act was very good. You nearly had me fooled,” he said and further terrified her by pulling up her skirts. He yanked her pantalets open at the split, baring her bottom to his view. She fought him, trying to stand, but could not wriggle from his iron grasp.“Did you recognize me for what I am?” he demanded, applying the crop across her bare cheeks.Tears sprang to her eyes and she gasped in pain.“Did you hope to distract me from my purpose with your charms? Was that your plan?” he demanded, whipping her again with the terrible crop.“I swear I do not know--”“Silence!” he snapped, applying the horrid crop even harder than before. “Do not speak unless I ask you a question.”“But you did ask--” she bit off her protest as another stroke made her gasp.He tapped the crop against her smarting flesh, the momentary reprieve only making her aware of her exposure, imagining what the sight of her naked buttocks must look like to him. “Do you know,” he said in a slightly calmer voice, “you are the only woman I have ever wanted to court? The joke was on me, was it not?” he asked bitterly and sliced the crop down again.She cried out, tears spilling from her eyes, as her mind struggled to recover from bewilderment. Lord Auburn believed she possessed papers that somehow incriminated her, that much was clear. He whipped her again, making her scream again. Amidst her confusion and fright and the searing pain of the whipping, she clung to one little buoy: his anger seemed borne of a sense of betrayal. He truly cared for her--or he had before now. He struck her three more times in rapid succession, making it impossible for her to catch her breath to even cry out. When he paused a sob bubbled up in her throat. The sound seemed to affect him, because he stroked her throbbing flesh with a gentle hand. He sighed and spoke in a lowered voice, tinged with defeat. “Will you tell me where you got the papers?”“I do not know--”“Stop,” he commanded with disgust. “I cannot stand hearing the lies.”He continued the slow stroking. She knew she ought to protest, but the relief his touch brought her outweighed all else. She remained so exposed, lying prostrate with her bottom on display for his punishment and now caress. And yet a heat coursed through her body, not just on the surface of her raw cheeks, but deep inside, flooding her with a sense of need.His hand stroked lower, across the juncture where bottom meets thigh. To her horror, his thumb wicked a bit of moisture from her inner thigh. “I do believe you find this arousing,” he said in surprise. Hot shame flooded her face and chest.
“I suppose I do, too,” he muttered.
***

Meet me at the Westerfield Estate gatehouse at midnight during their Ides of March ball.  Bring the twenty-five thousand in notes to exchange for the plans.

Spymaster John Andrews does not know the identity of either of the traitors who plan to meet at the Westerfield’s, but he is determined to catch them both at their treasonous game. Posing as Lord Andrew Darlington, he joins the Westerfield weekend fete, never expecting to fall for his main suspect, the lovely wallflower Miss Eliza Hunt. When he finds the secret government documents hidden in her trunk, he takes the lady to task, applying a riding crop to her bare bottom. Yet it appears Eliza may be innocent, in which case, he can bid farewell to his career for getting fresh with the daughter of the wealthy and well-connected Hunt family.Eliza Hunt knows Lord Darlington is not the man he purports to be, but he is the first man to see beyond the ugly birthmark on her face treat her with passion. As he draws her out of her shell and demands she let go of her doubts of self-worth, he soon becomes the only man she wants, even when it becomes clear he has a strong penchant for spanking!
Darlington cannot wait to resolve his case and claim Eliza as his own, but he fears his darker desires may mean he is not the sort of man worth having as a husband. Can her trust allow him to release the demons from his past?

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