by Lee Savino
Sebastian yelled and thrashed as much as he could, as his wife sashayed to the door to the music of his muffled cries.
Francesca left the apothecary just after dawn and ran on bare feet back to the hacienda. She slipped in through an open window, to avoid meeting Ana, who would be just rousing. Her husband was still tied to her bed, and she wanted plenty of time to play. Before she went in, she pushed back her wealth of hair. The fresh morning air gave color to her cheeks, and her nipples were already hard and ready. She’d spent the last hour cleaning herself out with a clyster, using water to flush out her bottom hole. Now she was clean and ready for the buggering her blond lord promised her. She would ride him to her pleasure, then untie him so he could spank her and take her ass with his tasty cock.
Quivering with excitement, she opened the door.
Her beautiful Brit lay waiting, his cock jutting up from his narrow hips. Francesca paused a moment to admire his long, lean form, the muscles of his chest and legs chiseled from his labor. He saw her and his jaw clenched, as he gritted his teeth into the gag. His blond hair and blue eyes gave him an innocent air, but she knew the truth: here was a man born to ride, use and dominate her.
Her cunny clenched in anticipation.
“Dawn comes and you’re still in bed?” she asked playfully. As she passed, she reached out and brushed his cock. It jumped in her hand, so nice and hard.
“Awww, my poor—”
His hand shot out and grabbed her, flipping her over his lap. She squawked and tried to push herself up and he held her down. They tussled for a moment until he pinned her flat. A thrill ran through her. He’d gotten his arms untied.
One arm held her and the other pulled out his gag.
“My turn to play,” he growled. “And mark my words, you’re going to pay.”
“That was not a very good idea,” Sebastian said. He’d spent the last few minutes tying his struggling wife to the bed. She half knelt, half lay on her stomach, her arms bound together over her head in a modified strappado. With legs tied and spread and body tipped forward over plenty of pillows, her bottom and cunny were at the perfect height for him to plunder and punish.
“What did you think, that you’d leave me tied to the bed forever?” She made a noise through the gag. He’d been careful tying her arms above her and her bent legs apart, but even propped on a huge pile of cushions, it couldn’t be very comfortable. Especially not with all her private parts exposed to the room, and a cross husband. “Very, very naughty,” he continued, taking his place on the bed beside her. “I think a spanking is in order. We’ll start with one hundred.”
She cried out behind the gag.
Her bottom bore a few fading marks from the belt last night. He’d thought about starting with the belt and continuing with every available implement—razor strop, hairbrush, carpet beater, even the smaller whips the vaqueros used. When she’d left him the second time, straining against his bonds with blue balls throbbing, he’d been mad enough to do it.
But he’d never hit her in anger, and he’d never want to truly hurt her. Besides, his cock wouldn’t last through such a long discipline session, and after denying himself last night and the morning’s torture session, he was going to enjoy his wife as much as possible. Too bad she would only enjoy part of it.
“Yes, one hundred. You deserve it, you naughty, naughty girl. But don’t worry, I won’t count them out. I’ll just go until your bottom is bright red. How does that sound?” He chuckled over her gagged protests, and started smacking her perfect arse. She tried to move but with legs and arms tied, could only rock back into his punishing hand. He slapped her bouncing bottom as long as he liked, enjoying the heat and the ripening color.
He paused and listened to her whimpers. She was close to that magical place between pain and pleasure. A few more swats and she’d cum. Her cuntpurse wept.
Crossing to the dresser, he found her hair brush. A change of implement would give her a fresh round of pain, perhaps tip her over the edge. He grabbed the hair brush, noting the vial of oil standing ready. He might take her arse again, once it was properly dealt with.
Walking to her head, he pulled the gag out. He wanted to hear her howl.
“You’ve been a very, very bad girl. But if you’re very good and take me in your bottom, I might give you a reward.”
She murmured something and he leaned closer. “What’s that, my lovely?”
He expected insults, but instead she said, “I cleaned myself for you.”
He reeled in shock and went back to check. Her cunt lips were freshly shaved, and, sure enough, her bottom hole was pink and stretched and ready for his long prick. She’d woken before dawn, teased him mercilessly, then submitted to a deep cleansing to prepare herself for him.
“Darling.” He stroked her bottom. “My beautiful, beautiful girl.” His fingers stroked lower, rewarding her. Her whole bottom quivered. “A bit more punishment, and then you will get your reward.”
He spent some time massaging her bottom cheeks, squeezing and parting them and enjoying the sight of her lovely hole. Then he tapped the hairbrush against her cheeks before smacking it down hard.
She moaned, a sound not only of pain but of longing. It gave him an idea.
After spanking her with the hairbrush a few times, he tapped it against her lower lips before bringing it up with a wet, slapping sound. Her entire body tensed and she gasped.
“You like that?”
Her hips bucked as much as they could in the binds.
“Maybe I should try it again.” He spanked her cunny again and she cried out.
“Please, it is too much.”
“What do you call me when I’m disciplining you?” He spanked her again.
“Master, master. Please, master, have mercy.” She broke down into a tumble of Spanish. Her torso hung limp and helpless over the mound of pillows. He decided to take pity on her. Bending down, he kissed and licked her red, wet cunt, taking extra care with her freshly punished pussy lips.
Her orgasm came with a long, lowing sound, and he wiped his face in triumph.
He oiled his prick as she recovered, then resumed his place.
“How was that?”
“Lovely, thank you, master.”
“Good girl.” He went back to massaging her hot bottom. “I want this.” He slapped her ass, hard, and then parted her rear cheeks. “Naughty girls get taken in their bottom holes.”
He slapped her rear again and savored her cry of longing.
“Do you want it, darling?” He leaned forward and took her hair, drawing her head back. “My cock in your ass?”
“Yes, master.”
“Beg.”
“Please, master,” she panted. “I want your cock in my ass.”
“As you wish.” He savored the beautiful moment. His wife limp and tied, spread open for him. Then he slid his cock into her perfect rear.
They both groaned. She was tight, so tight, and felt so good.
“How does it feel?” he asked, staying very still.
It took her a moment to answer. “Strange. And full, master.”
He started sliding in and out slowly. The sight of his cock disappearing between her reddened cheeks was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’m going to fill your ass with my cum. And every time you disobey me, I’ll whip your bottom red and then give you a good ass fucking.”
She clenched around him and he cursed. “What do you say to that?” He slapped her right hip.
“Yes, master,” she moaned.
“You like it? You want me to make you cum with my cock in your ass?”
“Ay dios mio,” she muttered, and he spanked her again.
“Answer me.”
She was silent for a moment, so he pulled out and peppered her behind with smacks.
The words dragged out of her at last. “Yes, master.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I want to cum…with your cock in my ass.”
“Good gir
l.” He sped up, and his fingers went to her pussy lips. In no time, she was quaking, her asshole squeezing his dick until he lost it and finished deep inside her.
He planted kisses on her backside while she recovered, then untied her. After cleaning them up, he gathered her into his arms. The cock crowed, signaling the start of the work day.
“How was that, darling?”
“Good,” she sighed, but after a minute, she spoke again. “I think of what we do together, and I am ashamed.”
He propped himself up so he could see her face. “That is natural. Our play is so intense.” He bent down to hold her eyes. “You know I love you, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Satisfied, he kissed her shoulder and wrapped her in his embrace. “Perhaps, if you submit to me here, inside the bedroom, you can be stronger outside of it. Running this ranch, you must always be in control. With me, you can let go, and find release.”
“It maintains balance,” she said.
“Yes.”
She relaxed and snuggled deeper into his hold. “I understand that.”
Her tone told him that perhaps she could live with it.
“Then you understand, though we played this game, I mean it when I say you need to be escorted everywhere you go.” He kept his tone soft, but serious.
She stiffened.
“You know I'm very proud of you, my lovely. I want you to be safe.”
She made a little noise of protest. He thought about it. This independence was important to her.
“A compromise, my lady. When you must leave in the middle of the night, wake me. I will follow silently. Whether you go to the grove or a patient’s house, I will stand guard. I’ll carry your bags, fetch your things, or do as you order. I will be a mute servant at your call.”
She lifted her head to face him. “Mute?” Her tone mocked him.
“Yes,” he said, completely serious. “for you.”
“I do not think it is possible for you to be mute,” she baited, but he kept serious.
“Francesca, let me do this for you. Let me keep you safe.”
“All right, Englishman. There will be some houses where you can wait inside.” She hugged him. “We will work together.”
“It will not be forever.” He cuddled her back, kissing her hair. “Just until the danger is past.”
“It seems I have lived forever in danger of something.”
“Not anymore. I am here to protect you. Everything I have is at your disposal, my lady. I am yours to command.”
Her body relaxed fully against his, and he savored the feeling. Soon they would be out of bed, facing the challenges of the day, but this moment made all the troubles worth it.
“So you see,” he said. “Outside of this bedroom, you are my master.”
“Ha,” she said, but he could tell by her tone that she was pleased.
As summer rolled on, Sebastian fell into a rhythm with Francesca. They separated in the morning for chores, but ended the day with a ride around her lands. Most of the time he left her alone to her work in the apothecary, but when she went on house calls, he escorted her. These evenings were his favorite times, especially when they walked home together, taking a detour into a secluded grove to reaffirm their vows to one another.
Sebastian turned his wife’s passion into contentment, as he supported her and sated her every desire.
Meanwhile, the ranch floundered. The hot summer sun brought drought, and the green plants grew tall only to wilt and turn brown. Much of the farming work was watering the crops from the acequias, which grew shallower with each passing day.
“I do not know what we will do,” Francesca said. “If the rains do not come.”
Sebastian joined her in the farmer’s pattern of waiting and hoping, and looking often to the sky for rain. “I wired my father for more money. I’ll have enough to float us through a winter, and see us out on the other side. Trust me, Francesca.”
“I shall try.”
The next day, Ana found him in the garden. “Señor, you must know something.” Ana hesitated, frowning. “There is talk in the village of my lady. That she has made a deal with the devil to save her ranch.”
Sebastian half smirked, half grimaced. “Am I the devil?”
“No. These accusations are serious. They say she has done a ritual in the woods to stop the rain from coming.”
“How could they blame her for a drought that affects all of them? Her crops are dying too.”
“They say she married a rich man so she would not be ruined when everyone else is.”
“Ah, so I’m not the devil. Just a minion.”
“It is serious.”
“I know.” He rubbed his face. “I can guess who is behind these rumors.”
“Bishop Bernardo.”
“Of course. Thank you for telling me, Ana. Could we keep it between us for now? Leave the Señora out of it?”
“Si. That is why I told you. But what can we do?”
“Nothing. We wait. And hope for rain. Typical farmer’s life, is it not?” He winked at her, and she gave a small smile. He waited until she turned away to let his grin fall from his face. Father Bernardo was spreading rumors, drought was upon them, and, deep in the valley’s foothills, the Royal Mountain gang lurked to make trouble. Sebastian worked dawn to dusk with no end in sight, but at least he was helping. For the first time in his life, he felt useful.
He would write to his father and remind him of his need for funds. He hadn’t heard from the duke from when he wrote home about Francesca the first time. His wife deserved a knight in shining armor; he would be one for her, if she could wait a little while.
One night, a hard rap on the door in the middle of the night roused them.
“My lady, you are needed,” Ana whispered.
Francesca was out of bed and pulling on her boots before Sebastian even realized what was going on.
“Sebastian. The baby.”
He hurried to follow.
Outside the young butcher’s son, Pepito, waited with an anxious face.
“How is your mother?” Francesca asked.
“Señora, she is not well. She has been crying out since earlier today.”
“What? Why did you not come for me?”
“Papa would not allow it. But mama is ill, she needs you.”
Francesca swapped worried glances with Sebastian, but took the boy’s hand.
“I will go to her quickly and we will make her better.”
They ran all the way to the house. From the street, Sebastian could hear the laboring woman’s moans. Francesca paused. “Pepito, your mama is going to be alright. Do you have friends nearby who you can stay with?”
“The señora there offered mama help, but papa turned her away. She said I could stay with her family.”
“Good. You are a good boy to come and get me. You did the right thing and helped your mama.”
Francesca waited until the boy was out of earshot before entering the house. Sebastian could see her shoulders square as she geared up for a fight.
Inside, the butcher sat frowning while his wife labored in the corner.
“How long?” Francesca asked.
“Since this morning,” Camila said. The woman’s sweaty hair stuck to her face, and Francesca cast about for a water bucket and cloth. Sebastian found one and brought it to her and the midwife helped the mother drink before sponging her brow. A contraction hit and Francesca counted. Her brow furrowed.
“Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
“He doesn’t want to pay you,” Camila panted.
The butcher said nothing.
“Come onto your hands and knees. You will feel better.” Francesca helped the woman, then scowled at the husband.
“You fool. I would do it for free, to help my friend. Where is her family? Where are the people?”
“She has already had a child,” the butcher finally spoke up. “We don’t need you. She should know what to do.”
Ca
mila let out a moan. Francesca put her hands on the woman’s belly.
“The baby is facing the wrong way. That is why there is trouble. I can turn him. Come.” She motioned to Sebastian. “Go find a wide board. Ask the neighbors. Pry it away from a wall if you have to.”
“I do not like asking for help,” the butcher protested.
“You are an idiot,” Francesca said.
“Come on.” Sebastian drew the man out of the room, afraid what his wife would do to the foolish husband if left alone.
When Sebastian returned with the board, Francesca was massaging the woman’s belly, whispering comforting things. She paused to direct Sebastian to set up the board, leaning it against the bed.
“I will try cold compresses, and then we will have her lay with her feet up. The baby must turn.” Francesca ducked her head, whispering to her husband. “This labor…it is hard. The baby is turned and will not go. But I have more tricks up my sleeve.”
Sebastian gripped his wife’s shoulders, massaging them for a second. “Tell me what you need.” So he became a birth attendant, finding clean cloths and cool water to soak them in, boiling water to clean the ones that had been used. Dawn broke, and the butcher left, saying he could not miss a day of work.
“She should have family here,” Francesca whispered while the laboring woman was snatching a few minutes of sleep. “At least a sister. But the butcher has kept her here without family or friends. I do not think it is a good situation. I suspected something was wrong, but she never shared.”
“One thing at a time,” he said, kneading her stiff shoulders. “Let’s get the baby out.”
Biting her lip, Francesca nodded.
The sun climbed in the sky, and still the woman labored. Francesca alternated between having the woman move into different positions, or eating a little and resting. Sebastian made several trips for water, stopping to talk to the concerned neighbors. Whenever they offered help, or food, he thanked them. By noon, the butcher’s hut was filled with good food, and another two neighbors had taken the laundry.
Around dusk, the butcher returned.
