by Jenny Plumb
“Sit up. Since you are awake we are going to have a discussion.”
“Are you in your right mind, Richard? Has it escaped your notice that it is night and I was asleep? Take that light from my face at once and come to bed!” Helen shut her eyes and pulled the covers up over her shoulders. The next moment they were wrenched from her body. She rolled over in shocked surprise, instantly quailing before the look of outrage upon her husband’s usually amenable face.
“You. Will. Sit. Up. Now. I shall count to three and I promise unpleasant consequences will follow should you fail to obey me. One... two... three.”
Helen slowly sat upright, but after three and it was too late. Richard seated himself upon the bed next to her. Helen barely managed a squeak before she found herself tugged face down over her husband’s lap. Whatever was happening? She struggled but Richard held her firm.
“You have been foul tempered ever since we left Yorkshire, and even before then you were offensive. I will not countenance it, Helen. I am your husband and as such I demand your obedience and respect. If neither is forthcoming, I shall put you across my knee and spank you.” So saying, he raised his hand and brought it down with a satisfying smack upon her fleshy behind. Several more slaps followed.
Helen gasped, kicking her legs fruitlessly. “Ow-ow-ow! I demand that you desist!” she cried shrilly.
He did as she asked and Helen sighed with relief. He was NEVER going to hear the end of this, oh no not by a long chalk... What the devil? Her nightgown was being tugged out from beneath her thighs, what in hades was the man up to now? A burning slap landed on her naked bottom. Helen reared up in shock, her hand flew back to protect her scalded derrière, but she found her wrist taken in his firm, unrelenting grip. She screamed, but to her chagrin, Richard chuckled. Shocked to her core by what she perceived as her husband’s callousness, she snapped her mouth shut. That lasted only a moment or two as the relentless spanking continued to sizzle her buttock cheeks and she simply couldn’t keep quiet. Gasps and moans turned into warbling wails and desperate pleas. Richard persevered, giving punishing thwacks that soon turned those wails into heaving sobs. On and on her husband spanked her, until Helen slumped across his lap with no fight left in her.
It took her a while to realise that her chastisement had ended. Richard was no longer spanking her, but instead rubbing her fiery, benighted orbs with a firm hand. Woebegone, she attempted to speak, but he shushed her kindly and continued with his caress. It felt nice to have him massage her thus, causing the searing heat to throb into a dull ache that was... well, not at all unpleasant. Helen froze as his hand slipped a little lower down over her bottom to her thighs; his fingers grazed her sex. She jerked, this was an unpardonable affront! Helen squirmed, attempting to swim away onto the bed.
“Shush, be still,” he ordered her gruffly.
She simply couldn’t, not while he handled her so intimately, she shifted and mewed. Surely the sensations flooding her body were wrong? She reared up and Richard, it seemed, took pity on her, helping her upright to sit upon his knee.
Before she could speak, he leaned in and took her lips, kissing her, stealing her breath, making her giddy. Then his hand closed over her breast and she stilled, startled by the sweet luring that swept over her. There was something gravely wrong with her, she shouldn’t feel this wanton. She was a good girl! Such feelings belonged to a loose woman, not to a God fearing Yorkshire wife. Launching herself backward, she took Richard by surprise as she fell onto the bed her legs draped, her bottom still seated upon his lap. Any relief at her newly gained position was short lived, as Richard pushed up her nightgown exposing her naked body to his gaze in a most lewd way.
“No-o!” she protested pushing at her flimsy night rail.
Her husband clasped her frantic hands, firmly restricting her attempt to lower her nightdress. “Hush and listen to me; as your husband I have been remiss twofold. Firstly, I should have shown you how conjugally a man loves his wife and secondly, I should have outlined the behaviour I expected from you as my wife. I have remedied the second point and now I am remedying the first. So settle down and let me love you, dearest. I will show you joy and give you the bliss you should have felt every time I took you.”
Helen stared up at him with wide-eyed panic. Whatever was he blathering about?
Richard shifted until he was out from under her and she lay prone upon the bed. Removing the rest of his clothing, he cast the garments aside. Leaning over her and placing his palms upon her thighs, his thumbs spread wide, firm and warm upon her inner flesh.
She groused as she fought against the pressure he applied to part her legs.
He held her gaze whilst giving an imperceptible shake of his head. Slowly he managed to prise enough of a gap to place one of his knees between hers, as Helen whimpered plaintively. Richard lowered his head to her exposed bosom; he blew upon her nipple, and watched as the bump at the centre of her aurora budded to a taut, rosy peak. He put his lips over the burgeoning flesh and suckled hard. He felt her tense, her hips lifting from the bed as a soft groan escaped her.
He smiled to himself; so far everything Sir Thomas had taught him was having the desired effect upon his wife. What Thomas had neglected to mention was the almost painful aching within his stones and the iron hard erection caused by taking extra time and care to pleasure his wife. Being accustomed to simply pushing up her nightgown, spitting on his palm to lubricate his cock thus aiding entrance to her quim, then riding her until his release overcame him, proved to be an easier, but he discovered, far less fulfilling approach to take.
He moved his mouth to her other nipple and slid his hand over her mons, allowing his finger to drop inside her folds, hunting for her elusive pleasure bud. Thomas had drawn him a diagram, to aid him in locating her clitty. Ah-ha, this tiny raised peak must be his target. Yes, if her hitching breath and sweet cry of surprise was his compass, he had just located north! Richard lifted his head and kissed her lips, stroking the seam of her mouth with his tongue before plunging in his tongue as his fingers continued to play with her now extremely slippery quim. A flood of wetness coated his fingers. This was his aim, to make her slick enough to aid his passage.
When he had asked Thomas how he would know his wife was ready to receive him, he had been assured he would know, for her body would oil his way with natural lubrication and her sighs and moans would signal her surrender. Remembering his tutor’s advice, ‘do not rush her, woo her,’ Richard kissed his graduating way down her writhing body, his lips twitched with delight as she whimpered his name, her fingers pushed tight, entwined into his long hair.
Whatever was happening to her? She could no longer process the myriad of wonderful furore Richard evoked. Her capacity for rational thought deserted her in a haze of languid acquiescence. She felt completely at his mercy, but she feared these powerful emotions never before encountered. Suddenly everything centered at the apex of her legs, a hitherto secret place that shockingly Richard now placed his mouth, his tongue causing an intoxicating, delicious spiral of epic delight. Just as Helen felt something momentous was about to happen, he stopped his ministrations, sliding sinuously up her body, positioning himself upon raised elbows, his gaze dark and unfathomable. She shivered as she felt the blunt end of his shaft poised against her entrance. This she knew – this she understood, for it was this nuptial act that had been the bane of her marital nights, this crude rutting, when her normally civilised husband grunted, thrusting eagerly between her legs. She felt that same thrust now, but instead of the usual discomfort, Richard slipped inside her body with ease. The delightful coiling of tension reoccurred and Helen gasped as she found herself writhing with a deeply unexpected pleasure.
She was so warm, so wet and so very welcoming. He felt her nails graze his shoulders, but on this occasion Helen wasn’t pushing him away as she usually did; no, instead she cradled him close. She seemed unaware that she was moaning his name repeatedly. Soft, so soft and yielding, he felt the familiar drawing
within his sac as he thrust with renewed vigour, his member swelled to iron proportions, with a slight panic he realised he was about to ejaculate and Helen had still not culminated. Then he felt her arch sweetly beneath him, she was silent for a moment before emitting a low wail of culminating liberty that grew in volume until she filled the chamber with her soft sighing cries, triggering his own powerful surge of release. A moment of agonised bliss and he was filling her with a rush of pulsing seed, his orgasm throbbing on and on, there was no doubt that this had been the best climax he had ever experienced.
“I love you,” he whispered as he rolled them both sideways, curling about her body protectively, his arms wrapped about her, clasping her possessively against his chest. She thrust her bottom back into the cup of his groin and brought his hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles.
“Oh Richard, my love,” she breathed, trembling, her voice full of wonder.
He hugged her closer and smiled sleepily, he instinctively knew that this was how it should be betwixt husband and wife. “Happy New Year, my love.”
The household arose early on New Year’s Day. Mayhem ensued and continued until the gentlemen departed the house seated on horseback fully prepared for their traditional day of hunting. As of every year, the staff took a substantial picnic by cart out to the hunt, where they set up the outdoor meal. The food would be placed upon the transported trestle tables, set and ready for the gentlemen’s luncheon break. A carpet, chairs and even candelabra would be used to provide a fitting setting for the meal.
Once their husbands had left, Rose gathered the ladies into the morning room, she organised pots of coffee and hot chocolate to be brought to the room where she intended to finalise their plans for the luncheon ball.
Nanny had been primed to keep the children amused for the day. The nursery nurses had organised a puppet entertainment for them.
After a detailed discussion as to the timing of their coaches, discussion moved to the finalizing of colours of each lady’s gown, ascertaining that no one intended wearing the same colour. Rose called a meeting of the Spanked Wives Society into being. Non-members, Harriett and Helen, sat quietly listening to the very open and somewhat scandalous exchanges between Rose, Margaret, Imogene and Claudia. They talked of Imogene’s concern that her husband had not returned to her boudoir since the birth of Harry three months ago and suggestions were made by the ladies on how she could seduce Charles.
Helen was enthralled by this licentious conversation. When the ladies began to discuss in earnest pleasures of the body, with emphasis on sex enjoyed after a spanking, she decided that she simply had to speak up.
“Er... hmm, pardon me for interrupting, but might I ask if these practices are normal within a ton marriage?”
Helen cringed as five pairs of brightly curious eyes focused solely upon her. She felt her hand clasped and looked down to see that her sister Harriett’s hand covered her own reassuringly. She glanced up and met her sister’s eyes.
Harriett smiled encouragingly. “We are all friends and family here, my dear. There is no need for any embarrassment. Things discussed among us remain our secret. Is that not so, ladies?” There were instant murmurs of affirmation from the others. “So Helen, do you wish to share with us, is something troubling you?”
Helen nodded, but did not know how to begin.
Harriett squeezed her hand again. “Would it help if I shared something about my marriage, Helen?” she asked.
Helen nodded gratefully and sat back in her chair. She wondered what it was that her sister was about to reveal.
Harriett giggled infectiously and the others tittered with her. “Oliver has never actually spanked me, but he frequently swats my derrière and I confess to rather liking this habit. I am, however, unsure about a punishment spanking. Do you think I am at risk of receiving one if I attend this ball today?”
“I would say in all honesty that it was a strong probability, yes. But please understand that you are under no obligation to attend,” Imogene assured her sister-in-law.
Claudia added her voice, reiterating that none of them need feel forced to join in the planned festivities.
“But I wish to go and I am willing to take that risk,” Harriett replied firmly.
Helen took a deep breath. “My husband actually s-spanked me last night…” She clapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. There, she’d admitted it aloud.
“Another member joins our little club! Welcome Helen, m’dear,” cried Margaret, leaping to her feet and bounding across the room to kiss Helen’s flushed, embarrassed cheek. The other ladies followed suit, welcoming a new member into their midst.
“Do share, Helen, and pray tell how you found the marital act afterward?” Claudia asked eagerly. She was ever the bold one of their small group.
“Claudia! Really...” Imogene admonished. The others all giggled, including Helen, who all at once relaxed. She realised she was among friends.
“I am confused today. I loved how in charge Richard was last night and I felt quite weak at the knees when I laid eyes upon him again this morning. But surely I should feel some anger or resentment toward him, not this-this, well... adoration.”
“It is a strange phenomenon I do agree,” Rose agreed nodding, “and although I loathe real punishment, most especially I fear the strap. I do find Benedict’s lovemaking afterward, so very much more thrilling and rewarding.”
The other women nodded. “Not to mention pleasurable,” added Claudia with a cheeky grin.
“The thing is Helen, try not to analyse this aspect of your marriage, just enjoy your husband being so robustly in charge,” Margaret advised.
“Accept your husband’s dominion over you with good grace and enjoy his loving afterward,” Imogene added.
Helen nodded thoughtfully, thinking over their advice.
“Now ladies, I do believe the time is come for us to retire and prepare, ready for our afternoon of entertainment.” Rose stood and ushered her guests from the room.
Chapter 7
It was a very fashionable group of bejewelled and beautiful ladies that gathered in the large entrance hall at Merriton, twittering excitedly as they awaited the coaches to be brought around. Two carriages were required to take the six women to the ball. Only three could fit into any one coach with their full ball gowns and under petticoats, spread wide as present day fashion dictated. They each carried a fur muff and a fan. Rose and Margaret also carried a small silk reticule each, made of the same richly patterned silk as their dresses.
Settled into the carriages with hot wrapped bricks tucked under their daintily clad feet, keeping them warm in these icy conditions, the drive to Overton took some thirty minutes and ladies chattered excitedly the entire way. They discovered as they alighted on arrival, that the snow had been thoughtfully cleared from the gravelled circle at the front of the grey stone manor house, thus protecting the ladies’ sumptuous gowns from any snow staining.
Inside, footmen took their wraps and cloaks before directing them up the staircase, deep into the bowels of the house where the ballroom was situated. The enormous room was lit with hundreds of sputtering candles. A small group of musicians played, set up high in the minstrel’s gallery, whilst liveried footmen weaved deftly amongst the female guests, some offering mulled wine while others carried champagne. Yet more footmen wandered between the ladies, each held a silver platter, offering a variety of dainty canapés.
Rose leaned in close to Margaret in order to whisper. “I see no one that I know or recognise, do you?”
Margaret shook her head. “No, but there appear to be rather a lot of a certain type of lady, females that are rather gaudily dressed.”
Imogene gripped Claudia’s arm anxiously as she gazed about the room in consternation. “We should have listened to our husbands, we should not have come!” she cried shrilly.
“Poppy-cock Immy, how often do we get this kind of opportunity and have some real fun? There are no stuffy matriarchs of society here re
ady to sanction our behaviour or judge us, so let us thoroughly enjoy this very unusual event!” Claudia took her sister-in-law’s hand and squeezed reassuringly, to emphasise her words.
“I couldn’t have put it better myself!” Margaret agreed, while a smiling Harriett nodded.
Helen privately worried that Richard would certainly not like her to be here. She quailed, not certain that she was quite ready to embrace his new spanking persona, despite her earlier bravado.
As the hour moved on, the behaviour of some of the other women became risqué. Galloping reels were danced with abandon and very little decorum. Margaret, Claudia and Rose threw themselves into the fray with gusto but after a while the atmosphere became too bawdy even for their naughty taste and they re-grouped together, huddled on the side lines watching the lewd antics of other less inhibited women.
Some ladies had scandalously uncovered one of their breasts a’ la mode François, while others lifted their skirts shockingly high, showing an inordinate amount of ankle. Then the musicians ceased to play and a hunting horn suddenly trumpeted loudly inside the room.
All at once the doors at the four corners of the ballroom were flung wide and a large posse of masked, darkly dressed men charged into the chamber yelling “tally-ho!”
Pandemonium broke out amongst the gentler female guests, whilst others of a baser nature shrieked with glee as they were caught up and tossed into the air; many were carried away by the marauding intruders.
Rose and her guests huddled together staring wide-eyed at the mayhem surrounding them. All at once, three tall masked brigands appeared and circled them, the ladies squealed with fright and shifted into a tighter group. The tallest man threw back his head and laughed as they scolded him. He darted in and seized hold of Margaret by her wrist. Ignoring her frenzied scream and kicking feet, he yanked her forcefully toward him, scooping her up. He tossed her over his shoulder, turning, and striding out of the nearest open door.
