Lessons || Anthony & Benedict Bridgerton

Lessons Applied

You are on the balcony observing Anthony Bridgerton as he effortlessly makes his social rounds at the latest soirée. Your bottom is still smarting a little from the riding crop he used on you last night.

There is movement behind you, and you know who it is by cologne alone. You can't school the smile tugging at your lips.

"Can't sit down yet?"

"Not comfortably. He was particularly harsh," you reply dryly.

"Mmm, yes, I thought it a little excessive," Benedict opines softly, drawing up next to you. "You should turn the tables; give him a taste of his own medicine," he chuckles.

"Hah!" you laugh, glancing sideways to catch his handsome profile as he scans the crowd. "You are very droll."

"I mean it. For the right person, he would be willing to cede control," Benedict says quietly, not wanting your inappropriately intimate conversation to be heard by others milling in the vicinity.

"Really?" you feel sceptical about it. In all of your time with Anthony, he has been a classic dominant even before Benedict became part of your dynamic. But Benedict knows his brother much better than you.

Below, the master of ceremonies announces for everyone to gather in the gardens, and the balcony starts to thin out as people move towards the staircases.

"He'd only do it for someone he truly trusts. And I think that might be you," Benedict's tone is affectionate as you both track Anthony's movements out of sight.

"Hmm, I'll try it, on one condition," your mouth ticks into an amused pout as you twist to face him.

He turns to face you as well, smirking in a bemused fashion. "Name it."

"You help me," you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow in challenge.

It is just the two of you left now on the balcony as the crowd files out of the French doors beneath.

He chuckles and then leans close, his lips near your cheekbone, and his hands settle on your waist. "Do I have to submit to you too?" His voice is a teasing murmur.

"Do you want to?" you whisper back, touching his forearms.

"Hmm, maybe someday," he offers thoughtfully, his fingers squeezing you gently. "But I think I'd prefer the privilege he had that first time we met. He got to do whatever he wanted to you, but I had rules. I want him to be the one under rules, and I get to do whatever I want." He runs a thumb slowly down the front of your dress. "And I want him to watch as I destroy you, darling girl."

You are panting at the thought of Anthony under your control as Benedict unleashes his full potential.

"God, yes," you breathe, swaying close to his face, hungry to kiss him.

"Mmmm, not here, not now," he intuits your desire, his breath hot on your face. "Save it for our session. Anticipation makes it so much sweeter, I find," his voice almost an octave lower, his hand hovering over the junction of your thighs through your dress. "But if you need a little something to tide you over..." he adds, eyes glittering with menace.

You nod enthusiastically.

Double-checking that the entire room is empty now, he yanks your dress up and sneaks a hand under the hem. Somehow he expertly locates your clit and pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger. Hard. Almost painfully. You gasp and stutter.

"This is mine, do you hear me?" his tone utterly authoritative.

"Yes, sir," you quiver.

"You do not have permission to touch it until our next session, understood?" he intones.