Releasing them so close together, though, has made me think about the similarities in my two narrator-heroines: Sophia, orphan daughter of a prostitute in the 11th Century, and Caroline, privileged academic in the 21st. One similarity came immediately to mind, of course: they both long to submit to men who seem not just protective and dominant, but also wise and kind.
Here's how it is for Sophia, who begs Count Robert, renowned for spanking all the women of a captured castle, to spank her, too:
"My lord, I beg of you. Please show me that I have come into your service in very fact. I have dishonored you with my ingratitude and my resentment of your bringing me to Lourcy."
"That is not at all what I have heard of your conduct, Sophia."
"I have not shown it. I know I have not. But I shall. Such things I wish to say to Lady Agnes, and to Lady Ermengilde, and even to your lady wife. Such things as should make the devil carry me away to his burning lake. Save me, my lord! I beg of you: chastise me with your loving hand and I know I shall be better able to keep my serpent's whore-tongue inside my mouth." I began to weep.
"Sophia of Rouen! Never call yourself a whore!" He strode around his table, and towards me, and suddenly he was holding me firmly by the shoulders. But I could not look at him, and I struggled as I wept. "Sophia, listen to me." His voice was a low growl, now, like the snarl of a faithful dog who knows he must protect his flock in face of wolves. This wolf was the idea of my non-existence, but it was nonetheless a wolf: it wanted to devour me, and Robert stood squarely in its path.
I still struggled. I felt that I was ten again, and now at last I was going to escape back into the streets of Rouen, to flee from this terrible world into which the count had, with his awful mercy, seduced me. I would be nothing again, and I wished to be nothing.
But suddenly the count's left arm was around my waist, and he was bending down for some reason, and his right hand was lifting my gown and my chemise together, whose hems he was gathering into his left hand at my waist.
And then Robert the Monster, Count of Gassein, spanked me, with his open hand, for the very first time. I knew from the moment I heard the sharp sound, and felt the sting, that I had been reclaimed, but now my mind echoed his own words: at what cost?And here's how it is for Caroline, realizing that her husband George can be the fantasy Daddy for whom she has longed, and whom she has imagined so many times as she pleasured herself--in which act he has just caught her:
"I'm going to raise your nightgown now, Caroline," he said. "Girls who have played with their panties down must learn to take their punishment with their panties down."
I couldn't help it; I moaned. There was something about the direction his performance was going that made me think things were about to get even hotter. A paternal note was creeping into his words.
"Caroline," he said, "you should be ashamed of yourself. What is that wanton sound I just heard from you?" He raised the hem of my nightgown and placed it on the small of my back, laying open before him my panty-clad bottom. "Little girls in flowered cotton panties should not make that kind of sound, should they?"
Then it happened. Without forethought, I said, "No, Daddy."
There was a long silence. Then George said in a thick voice, "Daddies sometimes have to spank their little girls don't they?"
"Yes, Daddy," I replied.
We were through the looking glass. I waited with commingled trepidation and arousal for his next command. Surely my new daddy would know what to do next.Also, they both masturbate a lot, I suppose, and like to be punished for it. I can't think where they get that particular trait.