by Lee Savino
“These are my mothers,” she said, waving a hand at the candles as she pulled out a pitcher and a bowl from behind the log. “All the women who have given birth in my and my mother’s care. Some have died. Some have lived. I remember them as long as I must.” She filled the bowl with water. “The largest ones are my own mother, and her mother, and her mother before me. All named Francesca.”
“You really are a fourth?”
“Mmm,” she murmured, returning with her offering to kneel before him. “I tell you the truth, James Sebastian Chivington the third.” Taking a cloth, she dabbed water on his face and chest.
“Is this a baptism?”
“Call it what you like. I am washing you clean.” She finished and sat back on her haunches. “What was the woman’s name?”
“Penelope,” he said, his voice almost gone. “Nell.”
“Nell. You must know that she forgives you. She and the child.”
He rubbed a hand down his face. “I didn’t do right by them.”
“You did the best you could. And now they are in a good place.”
She set the bowl away and rose, going about the grove to light bundles of herbs in the bowls placed at several points around the space. This time, when she returned, she gave him a candle.
“Light a candle for her, my love.”
He hesitated.
“Do not be afraid. You are not saying goodbye. She will be with you as long as you remember.”
Finally, he nodded and took the candle. He rose and lit it from the largest one, the one Francesca said was her mother. He felt that was right. For a moment he remembered Nell’s face, her smile. He tried to think but could only recall a happy time. He left the candle sitting on a log, and walked back to his wife, who welcomed him with open arms.
They held hands as they walked home. Halfway to the hacienda, he glanced back.
“Is that where you go when you disappear at night?”
“Sometimes.” She smiled. “There and other places. I go where Madonna sends me.”
“You’ll have to take your husband with you from now on.”
“I cannot do it.” She stopped and he faced her. There was just enough light in the hacienda’s windows to illuminate her smile. “We cannot go everywhere together.”
He took her chin in two fingers. “I want you to be safe.”
“I know.”
He dropped his hand. “This is one area I am not willing to yield.”
“I understand, Englishman. Do what you will to me. There will be times when I wake you and times when I don’t.”
“When I do wake, and you’re gone, when you come home, I’ll be waiting with a whip.”
Her smiled deepened, as if to say, I look forward to it.
Ana had left some food out for them, dishes covered in cheesecloth. The newlyweds fell on them as if they were starving.
“So how long have you been a healer?”
“My mother took me on her appointments, as her mother did before her, and hers before her. I learned much before she died. Ana helped me with the rest.”
“I watched you with that mother. You were amazing.”
She made a noncommittal noise.
He found a bowl of cherries and offered one to her, holding it by the stem. Craning her neck, she took it in her mouth and licked her reddened lips.
He fed her the rest one by one, then kissed her, tasting her sweetness along with the juice. Their pulses quickened, even after their magical evening together. She started to pull him to her, and he stopped her, lips curving in a wicked grin. “Naughty one. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the punishment you earned.”
She raised a brow.
He kept his voice stern. “Go and wait for me in the bedroom.”
Once she was gone, he set about carving up the ginger plug he’d bought in the market place. Just the thought of inserting it into his wife’s tender arsehole made him grin. The burn would spread through her body like wild fire, igniting more than just pain in her nethers. Her cuntpurse would be red and weeping by the time he was done and ready to take her from behind, his hips slapping into her bright, birched ass.
When he entered the room, she was naked as he requested and lounging on the bed. He took a moment to admire her, her breasts tipped with firelight, her tiny waist flaring out into wide hips and a delicious bottom. Her face was a picture of haughty indifference, her smooth, straight nose, lovely dark eyes and brows framed by the raven wings of her hair.
He couldn’t resist crossing to her, leaning down and kissing her. His cock struggled to get out of his pants. “What have you done to me, my lovely little witch? I will never be able to sate myself with your body.”
She made a low satisfied noise in her throat.
He broke the kiss and looked about for the birch.
“Where-?”
The fire flared and caught his eye, and he found his birch, now a smoldering bundle of twigs, still tied with the ribbon.
“Francesca.”
She gave a sexy shrug. “The fire was low. We needed kindling.”
He knelt at the hearth for a second to see if he could salvage his birch, then rose and met her sharp grin.
“Oh, you are going to regret that,” he said, and stalked to the bed to pull her across his lap.
His hand smacked down over and over again without preamble, and her caramel cheeks jiggled with each blow. She shrieked and fought, but he easily held her in place.
“Do I need to gag you?”
She cursed him and he took the opportunity to bottle her up with a handkerchief, then pinned her wrists in the small of her back.
“Fair warning, darling. This is going to hurt.”
He whaled on her ass for a good few minutes while she struggled and screamed through the gag. Her legs kicked, and when he tried to throw his leg over hers to weigh her down, she wriggled out of his grip and got away.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he growled, and chased her around the bedroom. They ended up on either side of the chaise. Sebastian faced not his wife, but a wild thing, savage and feral, chest heaving, hair wild. She glanced at the door.
“Go ahead,” he offered. “I’m sure the new guards would enjoy the sight of your naked ass racing past them.”
She hesitated, and he took that moment to hop over the chaise and grab her.
“I have you now.” A second later, his triumph turned to rage when she bit him.
A few minutes later, Francesca found herself ass up over the wide arm of a chair in her late husband’s office. Her new groom had tied her legs down, and finished fastening her wrists to the other side. The result had her stretched over the seat of the chair, face down, with her posterior well presented for any punishment Sebastian might dish out. He gagged her again, and finished by stuffing a pillow under her chest for comfort.
“That’s better.” He ran a hand over her back and bottom.
Francesca tried her best to wriggle free, but her bonds held fast.
“Stay,” her new husband said as he stepped out of the room, a determined look in his eye. She could only hope it was too dark for him to pick another birch.
Perhaps biting him hadn’t been the best idea.
All too soon he was back and fussing with something behind her.
“I almost forgot. I have something for you. Since you like spankings so much, you need something extra when you’re getting punished.”
She grunted behind her gag.
He showed her a brown root he’d carved into a little plug.
“Recognize this? It’s ginger. I’m surprised to find it in the market here, but it was my lucky day. Or your unlucky one. Horse masters in England use it to liven up their old, tired nags. And while I don’t think you need livening up,” he slapped her butt cheek, “I do think a little burn inside your bum while I cane you will do you good.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion.
“It’s going in your ass.”
She started struggling wildly, throwi
ng her body around as much as the bonds would allow. The heavy chair didn’t even move.
“What’s the matter, Francesca? Can’t take your punishment?” He set the ginger down and moved out of her line of sight. “Tell you what. If you can take your licks like a good girl, I’ll skip the ginger for now. It’ll be a shame to have it go to waste, so you’ll have to be very, very good, and count each swat and thank me for it.” He showed her the implement he’d dug out to use instead of the birch.
With a sinking heart, she recognized it as the rattan rug beater Ana used during spring cleaning.
“I like this clover pattern.” Sebastian tapped the canes against his hand. “Should leave a nice imprint on your luscious behind. So what will it be? Are you going to prove to me that you can behave?”
She sighed and bobbed her head.
“When I remove your gag, the only thing I want to hear is ‘yes, master.’”
Once the gag came out, she let loose a burst of Spanish.
“What’s that?”
“I just told you to ‘go stick your cock up a diseased dog’s ass,’” she said sweetly. “It sounds so much better in Spanish, doesn’t it?”
Ten minutes later, Francesca’s throat hurt from shouting into her gag as the rug beater did a number on her burning buns. Sebastian took his sweet time between strokes, walking around to check on her waning levels of defiance, practically whistling as his fingers traced the swirling marks the cane left on her poor behind. Before each strike, he touched the implement to her skin, lining it up before drawing it back and letting it whistle and crack against her cheeks. The muscles of her bottom would clench around the plug, making her yelp as fresh fire poured through her body. Caught fast in her bonds, she couldn’t even wriggle.
He’d inserted the plug, taking his time to work it in, until her face burned as much as her bottom hole did. Then, he’d let her stew, letting the ginger do its work breaking down her defenses. The worst wasn’t the sting, it was the heat spreading through every part of her nether regions, turning into a fierce ache. Sebastian squatted and commented on the juicy state of her cunny. His humiliating words fanned her arousal hotter.
By the time he finished, tears streaked her cheeks, and she was truly sorry. The gag came out, and apologies and pleading poured from her. She didn’t know what she said, but he let her beg while he rubbed her bottom to reduce the pain.
“All right, my darling. Why don’t you show me how sorry you are.”
He undid her bonds and sat in the chair, unbuttoning his trousers.
With a little sob, she knelt between his legs. There was no fight left in her, just a voracious desire to please, and she sucked him down greedily, eyes flicking to his beautiful, impassive face. She licked him up and down, kissing and tonguing his length, worshiping him as best she could, all the while keeping her poor bottom lifted off her legs.
“Good girl,” he said, stroking her hair. “Take it all down now.”
She did her best, pausing when he stood and took a fistful of her hair, guiding her onto his cock and gagging her with it.
“Just relax.” He drew out and she gasped for air, then offered her open mouth to him. Her bottom was burning and so was her cunt, but she sought his orgasm as if it would be her own.
When at last he spurted down her throat, she sat back on her haunches, relishing the pain in her behind, tasting him as her reward.
He sat back down on the chair as if spent. She licked her lips.
“Oh, my darling,” he chuckled. “My little firebrand, what am I to do with you?”
She nestled closer, craning her neck to kiss his cock and clean it with her tongue. It jerked under her lips and started to harden.
With a growl, Sebastian took a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back for a kiss. When it was over, they were both panting.
“How does your bottom feel?”
“It burns.”
“Face down to the carpet, ass in the air,” he ordered.
She obeyed, letting her hair fall over her face, hiding her embarrassment at the humiliating position. His finger swirled between her lower lips, collecting her juices, and she caught fire all over again.
“Sebastian,” she moaned.
Reaching down, he smacked her buttocks, hard.
“Is that how you address me?”
“No…master. Please, master.” Her pussy spasmed at her submissive words, and her bottom clenched around the ginger plug, burning her anew.
She arched her back, trying to offer her pussy to him. Her bottom waved shamelessly in the air. “Please, master. Fuck me.”
“My god, Francesca.”
She smiled, knowing she’d pushed him to the limit. His cock speared into her from behind and she howled, pushing back on him.
“That’s it. Take your pleasure.”
His hips hit her punished behind, each painful slap pushing her inexorably towards the edge.
He pulled out and she almost cried, her pussy spasming. His hands guided her to her back.
“I want to see you.” He sank into her again, pushing her bottom onto the rug. The raw, scraping sensation only added to her pleasure. She moaned, beyond words, beyond pain, lost in feeling.
“Cum,” he commanded and her whole body started shaking.
“That’s it.” He drove into her until rooting himself deep and spending himself inside her. “Oh, my darling. You did so well. I’m going to fill you and we will have many, many children.”
She lay limp under him, gaze unfocused, every muscle in her turned to liquid. He kissed her face and neck, worshiping her as his cock softened. Lifting her, he carried her to the bedroom and, lying to face her, cradled her on the bed.
Emotions swirled through her. Contentment, surprise, worry. Again, he’d beaten her, and she’d called him master. But instead of hating it, she wanted it again. What did it mean?
“You all right?” he murmured, raising himself up enough to look at her. His clear, blue eyes were so innocent, his pale skin and flaxen hair so angelic compared to the devilish debauchery he’d just wrought upon her body.
“I don’t know.” She trembled a little. “What was that? What have I done?”
He cuddled her and kissed her.
“It’s all right. You gave yourself to me completely. It’s natural. You’re a passionate woman. You needn’t be ashamed.” He kissed her deeply. “Surrender. I’ll take care of you.”
She shook in his arms, and cried a little until the fit passed, leaving a calm like a clean sky after a storm. “It’s been so long,” she whispered. “And I never knew it could be like this.”
“I know, my love. But I meant what I said in the grove.” His face was filled with pain and earnest hope. “I didn’t do right by Nell. I’d give anything to go back and do it again. But I promise it’ll be different, with you.”
“I know it will, Englishman.” She stroked his face as if she could wipe his sadness away. “You are absolved. Enter our marriage a new man.”
“Francesca.” His head bowed. “You undo me.”
They lay in each other’s arms, reassuring each other with their kisses. Sebastian rubbed some balm into her tender backside; it still ached from her punishment, but each throb seemed to send the message deep inside her, of love and connection to her new man.
Dawn broke and they were still sating themselves with each other.
“Do you want children?” he asked.
“I do. As many as possible. And you?”
“Yes. As many as you want.”
She lay against him with a sigh. “Cyro wanted children. We lay together but I never quickened. He was content after a few tries. It was not meant to be.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her. “I’m glad you want them. For I intend to plant my seed in you every night. I am a farmer now, after all.”
Sebastian stood knee deep in muddy water, trying to drag a cow out of an acequia. He pulled the lead and cursed the animal, but it would not move.
“So, Englishman,” Juan called from the shore where he was supervising. “How do you like being a farmer?”
“I’d like it better if the bloody cows would stop going into the water. How do these things flow when the cattle are always using them to wallow?”
Juan shrugged. “Usually there is more water. We are due a good rain. Any day now, and these acequias will fill right up.”
“In the meantime, we should pasture the cattle near the far stream.” The cow turned its head at an inopportune time, bumping the blond man, and Sebastian lost his footing, slipping on the bank. “Bloody bounder.”
He heard a joyful laugh and looked up to see his wife riding by. She’d swapped out her usual work dress with the striped skirt for a flowing white dress. Her black hair streamed behind her like a flag. He stared so long at her the cow butted him gently and he nearly went down again.
Juan chuckled. The cow lowed and Sebastian took his anger out on it.
“Shut up, you. Or we’ll be eating steak for dinner.”
By the time Sebastian returned to the hacienda, it was late afternoon, and he was covered in mud. Francesca was in the garden, still in that perfect white dress. He closed the gate and paused, his eyes feasted on the beautiful sight. She’d pinned her hair up, piling it on her head, leaving her lovely shoulders and neck bare. He approached and she gave him a coy look.
He longed to kiss that expanse of caramel skin, to light her up with a thousand little touches. As hard as life was on the farm, it was worth it just to come home to her. She smiled at him, as if she could read his thoughts.
A quick glance around the yard told him Ana was gone and the guards were standing on the road outside the gate. Besides the white goat, he and his wife were alone.
“Come here,” he growled.
“Oh, no,” she said. “You stink. And you’ll get me all dirty!”
“You love it.” He chased her. She fled, holding up her skirts, stooping to pick up a bucket and throw it at him. Water splashed out of it and washed some of the dirt away.
He stopped and stripped off his shirt, enjoying the sense of getting clean.
