Chapter 77

"How are they?" Tommy asked, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply.

Johnny Dogs snorted, "How feckin' are they? They're mad as a nest of hornets Tom."

He nodded; he'd expected as much.

"You were already on their fuckin' list," Johnny continued, shaking his head, "Then you go and do this. And they blame you, you know that – for all it was Arthur and the boys."

He nodded again. Of course the Lees blamed him. And why shouldn't they? It had been him who gave the order, hadn't it? Rez Lee's ear and their piles of money had been taken at his command. You became head of the family - you took the responsibility as head of the family. You just had to hope to hell you could protect your family from the repercussions of that responsibility.

"They got their plans?"

Johnny snorted, "You think they'd tell me?"

"You're ridin' with them."

"They know I'm your man Tom. Truth be told, you're causin' bloody problems for me."

"How so?" Tommy asked, managing not to laugh.

He could well imagine the problems he was causing for Johnny – the Lee's wouldn't trust him now, knowing his association with the Shelby's, and their women would be being whipped inside the vardos and not left out unminded around him.

"Jus' causin' problems," Johnny said, scowling.

"Well, a new horse should make it up to you, eh Johnny?"

Johnny snorted derisively and Tommy clicked his tongue.

"Aye alright, I'll take a new bleedin' horse," Johnny said sullenly, taking Tommy's tongue click as a sign that he might be about to bugger off back to Small Heath without completing their mission.

The mission in question being the stealing of two young horses. Tommy had scoped them out a few days ago – but he needed someone to drive the box if he drove the car out. The mother was about to foal her newest and the hands would be in the stables with her, the two young horses – he reckoned they were about three and just pushing five – were in the fields alone.

"Right Finn, you're on lookout," Tommy called over his shoulder to his younger brother, whom he'd made wait in the car whilst he asked Johnny about the Lee's and their plans.

Finn didn't care much for horses, far more into his cars – kid these bloody days – but when Tommy had mentioned he needed help Finn had begged to offer his services. Tommy had sworn him to secrecy – which had made the mission all the more exciting in his youngest brother's eyes – and taken him along.

Rosie had claimed she thought it was a good way for the two of them to spend time together, had packed them off in the car with sandwiches and tea and lemonade, all of which Finn had consumed within 5 minutes of them leaving Small Heath, making Tommy need to pull the car over for a road-side piss practically just as soon as they'd left the last building of the city behind.

He rather believed what Rosie actually thought was that spending time just the two of them would emphasise to him how young Finn was, and how he absolutely should not be taken along on any more trips to the races. She had magically managed to work the fact Finn was 'just a little boy' into the conversation at least once a day since Cheltenham and he was stoutly refusing to give her the satisfaction of biting, whilst she was stoutly refusing to just say what it was she thought instead of just dropping her pointed hints about the matter.

It wasn't that he thought Finn was an adult – far from it – but he wanted the kid to start toughening up and stepping up and, well, it was her who had suggested to him, the day they had gone to the forest, that if he wanted Ada to make the right choices he had to give her the opportunities to make them. He figured taking Finn along on trips, giving him little bits of responsibility that would mean a great deal more to the boy than they would to the overall outcome – as if he and Johnny needed a look out across a bunch of empty fields for Christ's sake – would give him the required opportunities to get used to handling responsibility. And one day, once he had mastered the handling of them, the responsibilities he had would matter.

The secrecy was the main part of the mission he needed Finn to stick to – because the horse they were keeping – the younger of the two - would be dropped at Charlie's Yard and it would serve as Lily's birthday present next month. Rosie had finally agreed to his desires to replace the horse the Lee's had cursed, so long as it was a birthday present and not a present for nothing.

She worried too much about Lily not appreciating things, in his mind. But he was also acutely aware still of how little they had had before, when Rosie was trying to provide for them both on her meagre shop wage, and if buying the child too many things would work towards making her question the way her sister had provided for her, he wouldn't contribute to that. He was sure, in a year or so, all memories of what she'd had or not had would more or less disappear and he'd be free to spoil her as he wished with whatever he wanted her to have, but for now he would compromise at the redhead's behest.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

They got back to Small Heath just after two. He had timed it to make sure they were back before the shop was shutting, he had no intentions of leaving Rosie or Lily in the house unguarded. He'd told John and Arthur about his worries with the Lee's targeting the shop and had ordered that, going forward, the house was to have one of the three of them in it at all times and if not one of them then at least two other men they trusted. But the truth was, he'd feel better if it was he himself who was home most of the time to guard them.

As it was, when he left Charlie's Yard (Charlie wasn't there, he was off on business but he was expecting the horse to be there on his return) - splitting ways with Johnny Dogs who was taking the other horse out to wherever the Lee's were camped, and drove the car back to the workshop in Garrison Lane where he kept it (no parking on Watery Lane, no one who lived there would ever have been envisioned as owning a car and so there had been no provisions made for space of that sort when the houses were built) it was a house empty of both sisters he returned to.

"Alright?" he said, nodding at Polly as he pushed his way into the shop.

"Busy day," she replied, barely looking up from reading her magazine.

A busy day meant they'd had good takings, not necessarily that she had been busy herself.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, keeping his voice casual.

She looked up then and raised a single eyebrow, "Arthur's in his office, John's up there," she nodded her head at the end of the room where his younger brother was clearly standing, "Rosie's off into town to go to the library and get things for your dinner and I sent Lily out to play with Katie."

"Didn't see them on the street," he replied, frowning a little.

"They're around," she replied tersely, "And you let them alone Thomas, whenever Lily stays in she ends up in the bloody shop and I have told her. Asking for a good spanking so she is, and I'll give her it myself if I see her in here again – too many people in here these days for her to be wandering. She'll get bloody snatched from under us."

"She doesn't wander Polly, she sits in my office or Arthur's and does her drawing," he replied, terse himself.

"And would you have let Finn do that?"

He didn't answer verbally, simply clicking his tongue and flicking his eyes to the heavens in annoyance. She was being deliberately obtuse – Finn would never have sat at a desk and drawn like Lily did, so it was a moot point as far as he was concerned. Still, he agreed that the shop was too busy, and the character of some of their patrons too questionable, for the bab to be in the shop without him there to keep a firm eye on her, so he wasn't going to argue it with his aunt.

He left the shop and sat in one of the single seats in the front room, shaking open the paper, managing to fight the urge to go out and locate Lily with his own eyes.

As it was, he didn't have to wait long for his wish to lay eyes on the child to be fulfilled – he hadn't been sat very long when the door swung open and, over the back of the sofa, he could just about see her face.

"There's my best girl," he greeted her, smiling over.

She stared at him rather guiltily and her fingers moved to her mouth and undoubtedly took the pressure of her teeth.

He stiffened, knowing the look all too well from raising Finn and Ada. Though, rather than staying frozen in the doorway, he was fairly sure Finn or Ada might have turned and bolted if they thought they had the chance.

"Come here," he ordered her, raising an eyebrow.

She very slowly edged into the room and took her time shutting the door behind her before she looked at him again, her fingers, which had been utilised in the shutting of the door, making their way back into her mouth and tears spilling over her eyes.

Whatever she'd been up to, she expected to be in trouble – that much was clear.

"Over here," he ordered again, jerking his head to indicate the space in front of him.

She crept around the sofa and he realised why she was expecting to be in trouble – her dress was filthy – caked with thick mud. It looked like she'd had a go at trying to get it off herself too in parts and had succeeded only to make it worse. Rosie, had she been present, would have hit the roof – he was sure of that.

She was properly sobbing by the time she reached the space in front of him and it broke his heart. Kids were meant to go out and play and get muddy. As far as he was concerned, if she was outside getting covered in dirt it was a damn sight better than her being pristine and stuck inside alone like she had been before he'd brought them here.

He took her hand and raised it up above her head, squeezing it gently.

"Give us a twirl then," he told her.

Obediently and still crying, she gave him a slow turn under his arm. The back was nowhere near as bad as the front – still a bit muddy at the hem, but whatever she'd been up to she'd evidently been crawling along as part of it. Well, good for her. He was glad to see it.

The tears caused a flash of annoyance in him, realising how much her sister had drummed into her the nonsense about keeping things good.

Her words flashed across his mind, "You'd be less fucking blasé if it was you who had to get down to the wash house and break your bloody back scrubbing muck out."

Well, if that was where her annoyance came from…

"Well, you've gone and done it now Lily, eh?" he joked to the kid – who didn't seem to notice his tone and just cried harder.

"Ah c'mon," he murmured, pulling her to him, "It's just a bit of mud, let's see what we can do about it before your sister gets back."

She sniffled and looked at him, her eyes big and blue and watery and questioning and breaking his bloody heart.

He stood, still holding her hand and grabbed the clothes brush from off the side before leading her into the kitchen and sitting in a chair and standing her in front of him, beginning, slightly clumsily, the process of trying to brush off the excess muck without being too forceful.

"Alright, we're going to get further with this if we get this off you I reckon, arms up," he told her, laying down the brush on the table.

Her arms moved alright, but only to her mouth and her eyes squeezed tight closed as she began to properly wail.

"Alright, alright, you're alright," he said, slightly alarmed by the reaction, pulling her between his legs and hugging her tight, rubbing her back, remembering that, along with a requirement of keeping her clothes clean, her sister had also drummed into her a sense of modesty that the Shelby's had never had.

Each of them had been routinely stripped in the kitchen to have their clothes washed or be washed themselves – or to feel the full force of their mother's punitive hand or wooden spoon - and none of them blinking an eye over it. Or at least, not blinking an eye over the nakedness of it – they had done more than blink when it came to having their bare backsides tanned.

"We'll go upstairs and get you changed, eh?"

He picked her up, aware he was now probably transferring the muck to himself and carried her through the shop and up the stairs, catching Polly's questioning eye and shrugging in response.

"Right then, let's get this off, eh?" he said, standing her in the middle of the room and kneeling down in front of her to be at eye level.

She raised her arms and kept her eyes closed as he unbuttoned the dress and lifted it as carefully as he could up and over her head.

Free of the mucky dress, he could see she needed her own face washed – not simply from the mess the crying was making of it – but from smears of muck on it that he hadn't noticed when faced with the sheer volume of the mud on the fabric. He wished he was the type of man who kept hankies in his fucking pocket suddenly. The type of father who was always on hand to dry tears softly off the face of his children. Aware it was no bloody soft hanky, he slipped off his jacket and wiped at her face with his own shirt sleeve.

"There we go, calm down bab, eh? Just a bit of mud and we'll try and get it sorted between us, eh?"

She peeled her eyes open and sniffed before stammering out, "Gettin' a spanking?"

He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead, "Not from me sweetheart. Can't say I can speak on your sister's behalf, but we'll do our best to get the dress clean before she sees it, eh?"

Her mouth fell open a little and she sniffed again before she nodded – slightly stunned, it seemed.

"Good girl," he murmured, kissing her forehead again, "Right – let's get something else on you, can't be running around in just your vest, eh?"

She nodded again, agreeing with him.

"Alright then, you go pick something else to wear."

She was still staring at him, seeming confused – but he supposed if she had been fully readying herself for a trip over his knee and then wasn't getting it, it was a lot to process for a little one. He felt a stab of guilt. For all he wanted her to play and get dirty, perhaps he should have given her some sort of perfunctory smack just to show he was on her sister's side. Well, too late now.

"On you go," he repeated, his voice gentle, nodding his head towards the chest that contained her things.

She went to it and took out a nightdress.

"Not going back out tonight then, eh?"

She shook her head and disappeared into the dress, tugging it over her head and pushing her arms into it, stumbling slightly as she did so.

"Right, stay still, you're going to hurt yourself," he said, sounding more annoyed than he'd meant to and going to where she was, trying to rid himself of the visions of her smacking her head on the chest she was stood in front of or knocking out an eyeball on the corner of it.

He grasped the night dress and pulled it off her, shaking it out then rolling it up in his hands.

"Arms up," he ordered, slipping the sleeves over her hands and her head through the hole at the top, letting it fall before taking the neatly presented opportunity, as she stood there still obediently holding her arms in the air, to tickle her.

She squealed and jerked her arms down immediately and they shared a laugh.

"Alright my little love, no more tears, eh?" he told her, hugging her.

She nodded into him and he stood up, taking her with him, reaching down to grab the mucky dress before heading back down with a now calm child in his arms.

He put her on her feet and laid the dress on the floor and he and Lily looked between it and each other before he picked up the brush and started again on the removing of the dirt, more forcefully this time.

"I think it'll need washed," she told him, her voice doubtful.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I think you're right."

She followed him as he went out to gather the water and as he began to heat it on the hob, her hand fisted around some of the material of his trouser leg, her face still slightly worried. He lit a cigarette and watched the water boil. He'd been at war - if he could get muck out of a uniform, he could get muck out of a dress.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

When Rosie came through the front door a little after five she certainly raised an eyebrow at Lily's attire but she continued on to the kitchen with her bags without comment. He followed her through, watched her clock the dress on the line outside and met her eyes with a shrug and a half grin from the side of his mouth that wasn't holding his cigarette. She shook her head and got on with the dinner.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"How did it go then?" she asked, coming back down to the kitchen after she'd put Lily to bed.

"Aye we got the horse – you can stop by Charlie's tomorrow to have a look. I reckon he's only about three though, won't have been ridden before so it'll be a process breaking him in, she'll only be looking after him at first until he's used to having a rider."

It was going to be quite the process, breaking in the horse and teaching her to ride at the same time. Finn, for all he wasn't that interested in horses, could ride and Tommy had got his brother to agree to help him train the horse, get it used to a smaller rider than he would be himself. He took a deep drag on his cigarette. It would be worth it though, to see Lily atop the horse. And the horse was young enough he reckoned she'd get a good twenty years with him.

"What's he look like?"

"Black all over except for the socks – white socks."

"That's appropriate then."

"Hmm?"

"Bought her a book about a horse that's all black. Or I presume it is, anyway, never read it myself but it's called Black Beauty so I'm presuming it's named that for a reason."

"That worked out then," he said, holding out a hand to her.

She took it and allowed him to draw her into his lap. He took a deep drag, enjoying the taste of his cigarette, the weight of her on him and the curve of her waist as he held it. A good combination.

"What did your man say about the Lee's?"

"Just what I expected."

"That they're mad?"

"Yup."

She snorted, "I'm presuming you've definitely got this all in hand Tommy?"

"Billy Kimber is there for the taking," he said, repeating what he'd told his aunt back before he'd ever met with Kimber.

Kimber was there for the taking. Everything Kimber's empire had been built on was teetering – if your protection was failing you, other things were failing too. And now that he was in charge of Kimber's protection, well… It was in hand. At least, the Kimber part was. He just had to decide what he was doing now it was in his hand.

She laid her head on his shoulder and ran her hand over his shirt buttons. The idea of her undoing them, combined with her weight on his knee, had his cock twitching slightly. She gave a slight sigh, seemingly of contentment and he closed his eyes and let his head fall back slightly, inhaling deeply, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaling a long stream of smoke. He could stay here forever.

"Am I going to get filled in on why Lily was ready for bed in the middle of the day by the way?" she asked, her head still resting on his chest.

He brought his up to look down, meeting her eye and smirking at the smirk on her own little mouth. God, she really was beautiful.

"She got her dress all mucky," he told her, "I didn't tell her to get ready for bed, just told her to get changed so we could clean the dress."

"Did you tell her off for getting it all mucky?"

He raised an amused eyebrow and she flared, unamused, her voice getting quicker and snippier with every word, "Typical. D'you know why you men don't care about whether kids get mucky or not? Cause it's not you who has to be breaking your backs scrubbing at the muck! But I'll tell you when men get annoyed - is when things get worn out from being scrubbed so hard so often and they need replaced and then new dresses have to be provided and that's when it affects you cause your wives need the money for the dress!"

"Right you," he said, cutting her off what was clearly about to become a rant, chucking the end of his cigarette into the fire and using his now free hand to smack her thigh, "I've never once complained about providing new dresses."

"That's cause you've got money to spare Tommy," she said, mollified enough to have switched back off of his formal name but still rolling her eyes, "Most men don't."

"Aye alright," he said, rolling his own, "But as my wife you'll never need to worry about putting me in a bad mood by telling me you or Lily or any kids that come along need something, y'hear?"

She nodded, a slight smile playing around the corners of her mouth, he imagined from thinking of herself as his wife - it made him smile too – then she straightened up a little and added, "All well and good Tommy, but it's the principal of the things and mucky kids are something that generates labour for women that men don't get affected by until they have to financially provide. Men don't take it seriously when women's labour is generated and that's still a problem."

"Women's labour," he repeated back, rolling his eyes, "You listen to me – woman," he prodded her chest as he spoke, "I cleaned that dress myself specifically so you wouldn't have to. Don't be snipping at me about women's labour or I'll undertake some men's labour and turn a narky woman over my knee until she's gone nice and contrite again."

"You cleaned that dress?" she asked, looking at him incredulously and then looking out the window - the July evening was bright enough that the dress could still be seen on the line through the lace curtain at the window.

"I did," he nodded.

"You cleaned the dress?" she repeated, "Not Polly?"

"Yes, I cleaned it," he confirmed again, slightly impatient, "Why is that so difficult for you to process?"

"Most men…" she said, breaking off, staring at the dress, shaking her head and then turning back to him, "Most men would have just left it."

"Aye, well – I figured it doesn't bother me that she's out playing and getting mucky but that it bothers you and I remembered you saying about how back breaking scrubbing muck out is, so I thought I'd try my best to save your back," he told her, then added with a salacious grin, "I'd prefer to break it myself."

"Is that right Thomas Shelby?" she asked, catching his tone and flicking her eyebrows.

"Yes you squalling little wench," he said, sitting up and threading a hand through her hair to bring her lips to his, "It is."

He spent a good while kissing her on his lap, not just on her mouth but down her neck and along her collar bone, unbuttoning a few of her own buttons so he could better access the delicate bones and the thin skin there, before taking his mouth down to the firmer, fleshier swell of the tops of her breasts.

She was moaning against him by the time he sat back in his chair.

"Do I get a reward for not just leaving the dress for you to deal with then?" he asked, pushing some of her unruly hair back from her face.

"Did you have something in mind?" she asked, her voice hoarse, her eyelids heavy and her eyes clouded with lust.

"I'd like a whisky and a cigarette," he told her, watching her face carefully, "And I'd like to watch your face when you cum."

"Watching me cum doesn't sound like much of a reward for you," she replied.

"Oh, believe me my darling girl," he assured her, reaching forward to take her chin in his hands and hold it as he kissed her, "Watching you cum makes me feel like a very, very lucky man."

"I might stand a better chance of believing that if I hadn't grown up in a whorehouse Tommy."

He gripped her chin more tightly and flashed his eyes at her, "I've told you – whatever the fuck you heard growing up was not good sex, alright? You and I are only going to have good sex."

"Are you sure it's good for you though, Tommy?"

"Do I look like the type of man who would settle for it not being good?" he growled.

She relaxed a little at that and stood up, going to the cupboard where the whisky was kept, just as Finn came in the back door.

"You! Bed!" Tommy shouted, annoyed still at the fact that Rosie had had such a horrible introduction to sex - and at the fact his little brother might have just walked in on him kissing Rosie's chest and her little moans in response to it.

Those sounds were for his ears only - and with her concerns for modesty, he was sure if Finn had walked in it would be the last time she'd let him undo her buttons in the kitchen.

"I'm fuckin' going'!" his brother shouted back, obviously annoyed about something else too and responding with his own anger, then – realising who he'd just shouted at – the boy's face drained of blood and he legged it towards the shop door.

Tommy was on his feet and across at Finn just as he got it open though, yanking him by the back of his collar and smacking him across his arse and thighs with a heavy hand.

"I'll teach you to speak to me like that," he growled, wondering what had caused the boy's lapse in judgement, "You'll learn some bloody respect or you'll be coming nowhere with me again, you understand?"

"Aye – ouch – Tommy let go – I understand! – I'm sorry!" Finn yowled in response, trying to dance out of the way of Tommy's right hand, which landed somewhere every time whilst his left kept a hold of the shirt.

"You bloody better understand – speak to me like that again and I'll wash your mouth out and take you out the back, you got it?"

"Yes, I've got it Tommy – I've got it! I'm sorry!"

"Good – bed – now!" he replied, sending the boy off with a final smack.

"Bloody kids," he muttered, pulling the doors over and locking them, turning to see Rosie smirking at him, "What?"

"How come you let Lily get filthy without saying a word and if he talks to you the way you talk to him you come down on him like that?"

"As you've been telling me all week, he's just a little boy - so he'll talk to his elders with respect."

"I'd like her to respect her bloody things – or at least the money they cost."

"Aye but you'd let her talk to you in any tone of voice she chose, I wouldn't."

"Oh we know," she replied, rolling her eyes and holding out the glass of whisky she'd poured him.

"What d'you reckon he's in such a mood for anyway?" he asked her, taking a swig from the glass and going to the door Finn had come through and sticking his head out of it, trying to see who was about but not seeing anyone other than a woman out beating a carpet a few doors down passed John's bit.

"I reckon that trouble with the Irish kids is still going on."

The idea did little to settle his annoyance, "They go anywhere near Sparkbrook and I'll skin the lot of them."

"You're very inconsistent."

"How so?" he asked, coming in and locking the door, turning to look at her as he finished the amber liquid.

"You sat in here and told them they could fight the Irish kids, then you say you'll skin them if they go near them."

"Aye," he nodded, holding the empty glass out for her to take and refill for him, "If the Irish kids come here, they can stand up for themselves – I'll not be having it that they don't learn to defend what's theirs. A man's got to be able to defend and protect his own and he starts learning that as a kid. But there's a difference between that and going and seeking out trouble."

She snorted, turning to put the bottle back in the cupboard, "Says the man who thinks Billy Kimber is there for the taking."

"That's different."

"How so?" she mimicked his question, facing him and flicking an eyebrow.

He frowned, "Cause I'm an adult for a fucking start and no one's told me not to go after Kimber."

"Really? I'm fairly sure it's arguable that that's exactly what Polly was telling you when she told you not to punch above your weight."

"What's arguable," he told her, coming around the table to back her up against the cupboard and taking the glass from her, "Is whether you're going to get to cum tonight or whether you're going over my knee to get your arse turned the colour of your hair."

She smiled, stood on her tiptoes and kissed the frown off his face, "Now, would I be being a fair woman if I was to deprive you of your reward?"

He took a step back, just enough to open the space for her to, "Get through to that front room now, you little wench," and for him to make sure he got a good swing on his arm for the smack he sent her through with.

She gave a little squeal and jump, her hand going to her pretty arse and he smiled at it as he followed her through, closing the kitchen door behind them.

"You just stand there," he gestured at the floor in front of the couch and went around the back of it to lock the front door.

With all the doors – and therefore their privacy – secured – he took his time settling himself down in front of her, putting the whisky down on the table with a thud and fishing for his cigarettes and lighter, adding them to the line up before he sat back, his legs spread, and looked sternly up at the redhead stood in front of him.

"Now, see, how come you can be an obedient little thing sometimes, eh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She didn't reply but his dick spasmed as she bit her lip. He leant forwards and pushed his hand between her own legs, sliding up and undulating against her, eliciting a slight gasp.

"Stood in front of me like a naughty little girl, aren't you?" he growled, pushing his hand up and into her.

She rubbed herself back and forth slightly against him, catching on to exactly what he wanted from her as she replied, "Yes sir."

"What happens to naughty little girls in this house, eh?"

"They get spanked, sir," she replied, shifting her legs slightly apart, allowing his hand to push up higher.

"That's right," he confirmed, rubbing his fingers against her trousers, "They go over my knee and get their naughty little arses smacked until they learn to be respectful, don't they?"

"Yes sir," she groaned.

"Is that what you deserve?"

"Yes sir."

"Tell me," he growled, "Say it."

"Please sir," she groaned, her eyes screwed shut as she squirmed against his fingers, "Please – I've been a naughty girl and I deserve to be put over your knee and have my arse smacked."

"Such a good girl to admit that," he crooned.

She gasped again, her hands going to his shoulders, bracing herself against him.

"Spread your legs, like the good girl you can be," he ordered and, after she complied, he began to smack lightly in between her legs, "You like a little spanking, sweetheart?"

"Yes sir."

"Good girl," he replied, smacking harder and faster, "Put your hands on your head."

She moaned but straightened up and did as he bid. He cupped her mound and squeezed, sitting back and enjoying the sight of her with her hands locked on top of her head, her blouse still undone from his earlier explorations, her legs spread and her breathing ragged.

"Open your eyes," he ordered.

She did so and met his.

"You deserve a spanking?"

"Yes sir."

"You want a spanking?"

"Yes sir."

"Then ask me," he told her, imagining his own eyes were dark as he barked his orders at her.

She took a few steadying breaths before meeting his eye and saying, "Please sir – I've been a naughty, disobedient little girl. Please will you give me the spanking I deserve, want and need so I can learn my lesson and be your good girl again?"

He grabbed the waist band of her trousers and yanked her forward so she was in between his spread legs, her knees pressed against the sofa, his hands on her waist the only things that steadied her from falling, her own still compliantly on her head.

"It would be my fucking pleasure," he growled, undoing the buttons and tugging the trousers down to her knees.

"Get over," he grunted, sitting back and flicking his head to direct her.

He delighted in the sight of her lowering herself willingly over his knee, her hands outstretching nervously in front of her – glancing at him as if to check it was alright that she had taken them off her head – and he groaned in pleasure as her weight settled on him, her hips rocking slightly as she found the position, her back arching and her knees bending as if she were trying to present him with the best target possible.

"Good girl," he told her, patting her upturned rear gently before raising his hand slightly higher and bringing it down to deliver more of a sting. She squealed and wriggled a little, but settled before he had laid the second.

They fell into an easy, steady rhythm, his hand descending again and again, not at a punishing weight, but at enough of a sting to elicit little grunts and moans from her and to be causing a flush of pink to be peeking out from beneath the line of her silk underwear. He was half tempted to take her knickers down, but the truth was, he was ready to cum in his own fucking underwear, watching her wriggle, arch and give little flinches as he spanked her over his knee like she'd asked him to do - and he reckoned if he got a good look at her opening – which by his calculations, he would, because she had arched her back and was pushing herself up against him enough that the gusset of her knickers was quite clear to him through her thighs – he'd lose all control and enter her.

Her little grunts and moans got harder and more guttural the longer he went on, and soon it wasn't that her opening would have been visible to him were it not for her knickers because of the way she was arching for him, but that it would have been visible, stretched open and offered to him because her legs had parted wide and she was gasping his name as he smacked. She had kicked her trousers off entirely, her knees bent like frog's, spreading herself for him as much as she could. They were both on the edge of becoming fucking feral – he could smell her, for Christ's sake.

"You want a little bit of this spanking here?" he asked, smacking her cunt like he had done when she was on her feet.

"Oh god – yes! Tommy, please!" she cried, pushing back as much as she could.

"Feel good, eh?"

"Yes! Fuck, yes! Tommy, I'm going to cum! Please! Keep fucking going!"

Far from acquiescing her, he drew his hand back and smacked her hard against the back of her bare thigh, enjoying the clear handprint it left on her pale skin. It appealed to some deep part of him, seeing marks he had put on her.

"No – what did I tell you I was having tonight?"

She moaned, her mind too foggy and close to the edge to answer, he rested his hand on the back of her knee and began to rub there, enough to keep contact, nowhere near enough that he was in danger of making her cum with it.

"I said I was having a fucking cigarette and a whisky and I was going to watch you cum, didn't I?"

"Yes," she moaned, her legs still spread.

"How can I watch you cum if you do so whilst you're over my knee now, eh?"

He left his rubbing of her knee and grabbed a fistful of material at the back of her shirt, pulling her back.

"You kneel down there and keep your knees wide, I don't want any friction on that pretty cunt of yours until I say," he told her, depositing her down on the floor in front of him.

She moved to position herself as he'd asked, kneeling in front of him,

He moved his own knees wider, kicking her trousers from where they'd landed in a heap at his right foot.

"I want your knees against my feet," he told her, waiting till she'd done so, each of her knees tucked against his boots.

He lent forward and kissed her, roughly and desperately and she responded in kind, her fingers threading up behind his ears in that way that he enjoyed. He growled into her mouth and sat back.

"Pass me a cigarette and don't even think about closing your legs whilst you do it," he ordered her, watching as she twisted obediently to retrieve the packet, open it and hold one out to him.

He took it from her with his mouth and straightened up, rolling it over his lips with his hands as she turned to replace the packet.

"Light it for me," he told her once she had faced back towards him, enjoying the way he could watch her chest rise and fall with her heavy, deep breaths, looking down at her spread legs, watching her stay in the position he'd ordered her into in front of him.

She turned back to retrieve the lighter, then lit the cigarette for him. He inhaled deeply, sat back and threw his left arm across the back of the couch, casually observing her, his right arm moving only to remove the cigarette from time to time.

"Did you enjoy your spanking?" he asked her eventually, after he'd taken four deep inhales and exhales.

"Yes sir," she nodded.

"Are you wet?"

"Yes sir."

"Good girl."

"Thank you sir."

"I'm proud of you," he told her, remembering when she'd asked him to say it before, reaching forward and kissing her upturned little face.

"Thank you sir," she said again, kissing him back.

"You like pleasing me, don't you sweetheart?"

"Yes sir."

"You please me every day, my darling girl, don't ever forget that. Now – my whisky."

She turned and picked it up, passing it to him.

"Remind me – what was the last thing I was getting?"

"To watch me cum, sir."

"Hmm, that's right. Cigarette, whisky and to watch you cum. Would you like to cum?"

"Yes sir," she whispered.

"You don't cum without my permission – understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good girl – so – ask me."

"Please sir, will you make me cum?"

He allowed a smirk to pass his lips as he shook his head, "No. No, I won't make you cum. I think I've done enough work teaching you a lesson, haven't I?"

She blinked up at him, unsure how to respond.

"I said I wanted to watch you cum, sweetheart, I didn't say I was going to make you cum," he clarified for her.

He watched her mouth form a perfect like 'o' as it dawned on her what he wanted her to do.

"Is your arse sore, my little loli phabai?"

She nodded.

"And your cunt's wet?"

She nodded again.

"Well, spread legs, a wet cunt and that pretty arse of yours all red and sore – I'd say you're on to a winning combination of being close to cuming, eh?"

She nodded, blushing a little. Adorable.

"Good girl – so ask my permission then."

"Please – sir – please may I cum?"

He took his time swigging his whisky and smoking, counting slowly in his head to twenty, purely so he could watch her wait in taut anticipation for his answer, before he gave her it, "No. But you can put your hands in your knickers and start rubbing your clit. But you cannot cum, understand?"

"Y-yes sir," she replied, slightly nervous.

She was close. Close enough she wasn't sure how long she'd manage to hold off.

"You remember how I rubbed your clit my darling?"

"Yes Thomas."

"Good. So get your hand in there and play with yourself the way I did," he told her, arching an eyebrow.

She was quick to obey, her right hand sliding into the top of underwear. He watched as she began to draw circles on her clit, exactly as he had done.

"Keep your eyes on me, I told you I wanted to watch you," he growled as she let her head fall forward.

With some effort, she moved her head slowly back, her eyes locking with his, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Are you grateful for your spanking?"

She nodded.

"Thank me, then."

"Thank you for my spanking, sir."

"No," he shook his head, inhaling and exhaling, watching her squirm under his gaze, "I want you to say 'Thank you, Mr Shelby, for turning me over your knee like a naughty little girl and giving me a good spanking like I deserved.'"

She moaned and repeated the sentence back to him, stumbling over some of the words, her eyelids fluttering closed at points, her wrenching them open through sheer will.

"Hmm, you did deserve a good spanking didn't you?"

"Yes sir."

"And what happens once you get your spanking, sweetheart?"

"You're pleased with me again, sir."

"You're a good girl again after your spanking, aren't you?"

"Yes sir."

"What do good girls get?"

"You being proud of them."

He chuckled and leant forwards, putting down his whisky and chucking her under the chin, "You get me being proud of you sweetheart… But that wasn't the answer I was after. Keep rubbing your clit, don't stop. Now, naughty girls get spankings – good girls get rewards, don't they?"

"Yes sir."

"What would you like as your reward?"

"To cum – please – Mr Shelby – sir," she pushed out, her words gasping.

"Are you close?"

"Yes sir."

"But you won't cum without my permission, will you?"

"No sir."

"Such a good girl. Alright," he said, leaning back, his eyes on her face, "Keep your eyes on me and make yourself cum. I want to see your face – and I want to hear you say my name."

She threw her head back as far as she could whilst keeping hazy eye contact with him and rubbed herself frantically, kneeling up off of her heels and thrusting forwards slightly as she came, his name on her lips.

He stubbed out his cigarette, took her face in his hands and kissed her as she moaned the last of it away, only releasing her when he felt her body slump slightly.

He picked up the whisky and sat back, regarding her as she knelt on the floor, her arms in front of her, holding her body up, her breathing ragged. He felt his own pre-cum leaking just from the sounds and visual she was giving him.

"Good for you?" he asked eventually, once he had finished the whisky.

She lifted her head, cocked an eyebrow and nodded.

"Good," he nodded, reaching forward and depositing the empty glass on the table behind her, feeling the burn in his throat less than he was feeling the burn between his legs.

"I've got a question though," she asked, that eyebrow still arched, a cocky note sliding back into her voice.

He raised his own eyebrow, "What's that then?"

"If I can manage that myself, what's the need of you?" she asked, unable to hide the self-satisfied smile from spreading across her face at her own wit.

"Kneel back in the position you were in," he told her, leaning forward, keeping their eyes locked.

She did so, her eyes questioning what he was about to do.

"Get your hand back in there," he told her, grabbing her forearm and directing it, "Now, I've made you cum by playing with your clit before, but I've made you come down at your slit too, so get your fingers down to it."

He pushed on her arm, forcing her fingers further around like he'd ordered, "Good girl, now – do you feel your cum and your wetness all gathered there?"

She nodded, still unsure what he was at.

"Good, now, get your fingers covered in it, I want them dripping. That's it, right up into you."

He let her move her fingers around for a minute or so.

"Tommy, I'm not ready to cum aga-" she started to say but he cut her off.

"Did I say anything about cuming again?"

She shook her head.

"No, I didn't, just get your fingers coated. Are you they covered? Good. Now bring them out, slowly, carefully – I want them still covered in you when they come out, I don't want it wiped off."

She obeyed him and as soon as her fingers, sticky and slick as he'd ordered her to make them, where out, he grabbed her wrist and directed them towards his mouth, keeping his eyes locked with hers as he took his time to suck each of them clean, smacking his lips and savouring the taste, making sure to flick his tongue over her finger tips and to push between her fingers with it, letting her feel the muscles of his mouth force the muscles of her fingers to give way.

She watched him with a slightly open mouth, stunned into silence as he eventually drew back.

He raised an eyebrow at her, "You taste even better than I imagined you would," he told her, "So here's what I can do that you can't do yourself – I can turn you over my knee, pin you down and smack your pretty little arse when you deserve it, I have longer fingers than you so I can enter you far further than you can enter yourself, I have parts of me that are designed to fill parts of you, designed to put a baby in you – but, all of that aside, sweetheart, the thing I can do that you will never come close to imitating on yourself without me, is that I can drink from you right at the source, I can lick you clean and I can make you see fucking stars whilst I'm doing it, alright?"

She nodded mutely, still in shock.

"Alright," he nodded, gentling his voice, reaching down to take hold of her waist, "Up you come and have a lie down."

He pulled her up on couch, shifting himself further up and laying a pillow on his lap for her head to rest on, her eyes fluttering closed as he began to stroke one hand through her hair, the other rubbing at the sting he'd put in her arse.

"My good girl, eh?" he murmured.

She nodded, letting out a happy sounding hum.

"Enjoy that?" he asked again, keen to get reassurance that didn't come with the side of a raised eyebrow.

Like she knew his thoughts, a smile flitted across her face and she nodded again, "Yes Tommy, I enjoyed it."

"Good," he replied, stopping his rubbing to give her arse a quick squeeze before returning to soothing it.

"Love you," she murmured, her eyes still shut.

"Love you too."

I mean sometimes you just need a combination of fluffy domestic moments and some smutty mc smut smut moments in the same chapter, eh?

ICYMI - I have started a new story, Jars, Frogs and Dirty Dresses, which is available via my profile. It's told from Lily's POV and will cross over with the interaction she and Tommy had in this chapter and what will happen in the next chapter of this story. The big question is though - do you want the culmination of that story before the next chapter of this one, do you want the next chapter of this first or do you want both posted on the same day?

Thank you as always for reading along, for commenting and messaging - it never fails to make me smile when I get emails telling me someone has reviewed, dm'd or favourited my stories!