by Ashe Barker
“Piers, you should unhand her ladyship and see to your horse. Then we shall hear all the news from Egremont over the noontime meal.” Ralf interrupts my words and Piers steps away, his expression still pleasant enough.
“Of course, brother. We shall join you indoors, Linnet. Please, do not tarry out here in the bitter cold.”
Momentarily forgetting my injured ankle, I turn to head back inside the hall, only to let out a sharp cry as the pain causes my lame leg to buckle beneath me. Piers is still close enough to catch my elbow and steady me, otherwise I would be kneeling on the cobbles.
“Linnet, what is it? You are hurt?” He peers at me in consternation and is soon joined by an equally perplexed Ralf. Both glower at me, demanding an explanation.
“It is nothing, my lords, not really. I stumbled whilst out on the slope leading up to the postern gate, that is all. I wrenched my ankle but it has been several days now and the injury is much less painful than it was. I still find it difficult to walk unaided though.” I glance around, catching sight of Joan in the mêlée of scurrying servants. “Ah, there is Joan, she will assist me.”
“I will assist you, my lady.” Ralf sweeps me into his arms. “And, once we have you settled inside where it is warm, we will be having an explanation as to the reasons you found it necessary to be outside the postern gate, despite our instructions to the contrary.”
“But, I—”
“Be silent, Linnet. We will discuss this in private.” Ralf’s tone is curt as he strides across the bailey and up the steps leading into the Egremont hall. I expect him to deposit me on a seat at the high table but he marches straight across the great hall and starts up the staircase to the earl’s private chambers.
“My lord, the meal…”
“Unless you can offer us a damn good explanation for your disobedience, wife, I suspect you will find yourself able to muster little interest in food for a while.” Ralf continues on up the stairs, only releasing me from his arms once we have reached our bedchamber and he is able to place me upon the bed.
I look up, to see a grim-faced Piers standing immediately behind Ralf. He must have followed us up the stairs. So much for attending to the needs of his horse. Both men look decidedly displeased.
“My lords, what is this? It is a minor injury, I shall soon be hale again and I believe it will make no difference to… well… to anything.”
Piers’ jaw is set, his eyes narrowing. “That is good, because the whipping you have to look forward to will hurt far more than any sprain, my lady.”
“Whipping? I do not understand…”
“Neither do we—yet. Please, could you explain to us what pressing and urgent business took you beyond the walls of this castle?”
“‘Twas nothing. We were merely gathering decorations for the Michaelmas feast. Ivy, mistletoe…” I hesitate, their thunderous expressions are growing more ominous by the minute. My explanation is not finding favour. “The garlands are hanging in the hall,” I add uselessly.
“You disobeyed us because you took it into your head to go out and pick a few flowers?” Piers’ tone is quiet, dangerously so.
“I did not disobey. You did not say that I could not—”
He cuts me off with a slash of his hand in front of my face. “Not disobey? Have you no recollection, madam, of our express instructions to you the night before we left? Did we not leave clear orders that the drawbridge remain closed whilst we were absent and that all our household were to remain within the castle. Are you not a member of that household, Linnet?”
“Yes, of course I am. And I do remember. But, I did not think you meant I might not go out for so much as a half hour to collect decorations for our feast. Am I a prisoner here?”
Piers utters something obscene and tilts his head back in exasperation. He makes a study of the vaulted ceiling whilst Ralf seeks to explain their wrath.
“Do not be ridiculous, Linnet, of course you are not a prisoner. You are lady of this keep and as such it is your responsibility, as much it is ours, to see to the safety and security of all within. We gave you explicit instructions regarding how that was to be accomplished. All you had to do was obey.”
“But there was no danger. We kept a vigilant look out the entire time. We remained within sight of the walls and could have easily sought refuge in the castle should there have been any problem. But there was not. Well, except for my fall but that could have happened anywhere.”
At mention of my injury, Piers sheds his cloak and sits on the edge of the bed. He seizes my ankle, his touch firm but gentle and he removes my boot. The bruising has subsided and all that can now be discerned is the yellowish purple band at the site of the sprain. Piers prods it, his eyes on my face.
“Does that hurt?”
“A little, sir.”
“And this?” He rotates my foot in his hands.
I flinch and let out a soft cry. “Yes, sir. That hurts.”
“You must keep your weight off it for several more days.”
“I know. I have been looking after myself, I promise.”
Ralf lets out an irritated snort. “Not well enough, it would appear. And you have set a dreadful example to our people who must have been aware that you were flouting our authority.”
“Oh, I do not believe it was so, my lord. Joan explained that it was a tradition to deck the hall at Michaelmas, so we thought—”
“Mayhap we need to have words with your maid too, madam, if this is the sort of behaviour she is abetting you in.” I have never seen Ralf so cold, so angry. And now it seems some of that ire is to be visited upon my servant too.
“No! No, sir, please do not involve Joan. The responsibility was mine alone. It was my decision.”
Piers stands. “Yes, Linnet, on that we can agree. It was your responsibility, so the punishment shall be yours alone too. You will strip and lie face down on the bed. I will require your bottom to be at the end, if you please.”
My heart plummets. This is so far removed from the homecoming I longed for. “My lords, I am sorry, I will not make such a mistake again, I swear it.”
Ralf has been over to the window, surveying the scene below but he returns to the bed to cup my tear-stained face in his hands. “We have no wish to hurt you, Linnet, Lord knows we do not. But you must appreciate the danger. You are right, we can see an attack coming from miles away if our enemies approach from the north or east but what about from other directions? From the sea, perhaps? That is the way they would come, especially if they were aware that Piers and I were not in residence. That is when we are most vulnerable, when additional vigilance is vital. The only way to guarantee the safety of Egremont is to keep the drawbridge up and everyone inside. What if you had been taken by surprise, made a hostage? Killed even? Our guards would have had no option but to come out to your aid and that would have left Egremont undefended. We might have returned to find our keep sacked, our people dead. Our wife dead. This cannot go unpunished, Linnet, it just cannot.”
“I… I see.” And I do. I might protest that they could have explained all this to me more fully before they left but the fact remains they instructed me to remain within Egremont, to allow no one in or out. That was all I needed to know, all I needed to do. But I did not do it. They have every right to be angry and to punish me for it.
Except, there is one thing I have yet to mention. One fact which might make a difference to what will happen to me next.
“My lords. I understand and I will accept your discipline. I am deeply sorry for my actions and I know I must bear the consequences. But, you should know, I believe I am pregnant.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Believe?”
“Pregnant?”
Both men bellow the words at me at once. It is Piers who calms first.
“I am sure we are both quite delighted at these tidings, my lady. How long have you suspected?”
“Just a few days. I realised after you left. My co
urses are late and my breasts…”
Ralf nods, his arms folded. “Ah. ‘Tis early yet then. Do you feel quite well, apart from your ankle, naturally?”
“Yes, my lord, thank you. Although I have felt more tired than usual these last few days.”
“You must take more rest. We shall see to it and we shall require your maid to aid us in this. Perhaps you should have another personal servant at your disposal, to ensure you do not find it necessary to flout our rules.”
“I am sure I can manage…”
“And we are quite sure you cannot. Do you have a preference or shall we select your additional maid?” Ralf has seated himself on the edge of the bed and takes both my hands in his. “What about that little seamstress who made your wedding dress? You seem fond of her.”
I brighten momentarily. “Agnes? Yes, I do like her. Could I have her, please?”
“Of course. We’ll leave it to you to summon the wench and share the good news of her elevated status. For now, we have another pressing problem to address—that of your suitable chastisement. But now we find we must achieve the desired result without endangering you or the babe.” Piers turns to regard his brother. “I believe one of us will need to make a visit to the kitchens.”
Ralf inclines his head. “I will do it.”
No more words are exchanged between them. Ralf kisses the backs of my knuckles then gets to his feet. He strides from the room, whistling.
There is nothing I can say which will elicit any manner of explanation from Piers. During the entire time we await Ralf’s return from the kitchens—a good half hour—he refuses to divulge any information at all regarding their intentions. I assure him I am not in the least hungry and if I were, the tables in the hall are laden with any amount of succulent food so it seems likely that Ralf has had a wasted trip. He simply smiles. I do not find it a particularly pleasing expression.
Ralf re-enters the chamber, a small covered platter in his hand. He sets it upon a table to the side of our bed.
“Linnet, you will remove your clothing, please.” Piers’ command is curt, his features set. Despite their concerns for my pregnancy, it appears I am to be spanked after all. I expected no less, in truth.
I scramble from the bed, taking care to favour my injured ankle. Standing before them, I start to unfasten the long tunic covering my skirts.
“Do you require assistance?” As ever, Ralf is the epitome of courteous consideration.
“No, my lord. I can manage.”
I drop my clothing to the floor, item by item and in just a few moments I stand naked before them. Piers jerks his chin in the direction of the bed. “You know the position, Linnet.”
I bend over, careful to balance my weight on the bed and not on my feet. At another terse command from Piers I spread my thighs as wide as I am able. This puzzles me if it is their intention to spank me but I do as I am instructed.
Ralf moves to stand behind me, whilst Piers retrieves the platter from the side table. I watch over my shoulder as he joins Ralf at the foot of the bed.
“Face forward and close your eyes, girl.” Ralf’s tone is cold, his demeanour detached, distant. I have seldom seen this from him. He is very displeased with me, a response born of fear, I know, but it scares me even so.
I turn my head away and resolve to accept whatever happens with both fortitude and humility. They are right to seek to protect our home and I deserve this punishment. If only I were less afraid.
One of them parts my buttocks. He is gentle, opening my most intimate places for inspection. I remain motionless.
“Wide enough? Do we need oil?” Ralf’s voice. He must be the one handling me.
“I think not. It would diminish the sensation. We need to ensure we make this is a memorable lesson for our wayward little wife.”
I flinch as a long finger is inserted into my arse. There is no preamble, no gentle urging or coaxing, just straight in. It is uncomfortable but not especially painful. As quick as it went in there, the digit is withdrawn.
“She’ll do. She’s tight enough to gain the full benefit but not so much so that she may be injured. Pass me the root, if you would please.”
Root? I am at a loss to comprehend what is happening and I do not dare to ask. I remain still as something cool and hard is pressed against the resisting ring of muscles framing my rear entrance.
“Open, girl. Allow this in without a fight and it will go better for you.” Piers taps me on the bottom, hard enough to get my attention, though not quite a slap.
Allow what in? What are they doing to me? Shaking now, I attempt to relax my muscles enough to permit whatever they have in mind. It is to no avail. Piers’ tone is sharp when he speaks to me again. “Linnet, this is happening, however difficult you choose to make it for yourself.”
There is no help for it, I have to ask. “What, sir? What is happening? I do not understand…”
“This is a plug of ginger root. It has been peeled and carved, by Ralf, into the correct shape to fit nice and snug inside your arse. You will allow me to put it there, without resistance, if you please.”
I have never heard of anything more bizarre. “But… I do not understand. Why…?”
“You will know soon enough, girl. For now, you will obey me, please and accept your punishment.”
Is my punishment to be humiliation then? The mortifying effect of having them insert items into my arse? It is the only explanation which makes any sense to me. I manage a defeated little nod and grip the bedclothes in my fists as Piers attempts entry once more.
This time he succeeds. I let out a small whimper as the smooth root slips through the ring of muscle and penetrates deeper. It fills me. My passage has not been stretched nor coaxed open in readiness but it is bearable.
Satisfied, Piers stands back. “You may open your eyes again, little maid.”
I do so and venture a peep over my shoulder. Both men are behind me, arms folded. Ralf still looks stern, though Piers’ expression bears a hint of amusement.
“My lords, what…?”
“How does that feel, Linnet?” Piers tilts his head to one side and casts an assessing glance over my exposed backside.
“Not very nice, sir. I am humiliated beyond imagining though I suppose that to be your intention.”
“Not exactly. The peeled ginger now gracing your delightful arse gives off an oil. It is pungent enough to the taste and pleasant if you like that manner of flavouring but quite intense to the touch. Some find it unbearable, especially when applied to the more sensitive areas on the body. You will soon begin to understand what I mean.”
The words have hardly left his mouth before I do indeed take his meaning. A burning sensation has started to emanate from the ginger and I cannot avoid wriggling. I stretch my hand behind me to reach for the root, to pull it out.
“Oh, no, madam, we will have none of that.” Ralf takes off his belt and uses it to bind my wrists together in front of me. “You will wait until we decide it is time to remove the ginger, or until the effect is spent, at which time we will take a view on whether or not to insert another root. I brought several pieces from the kitchens. Much will depend on how penitent you are and whether you are able to convince us of your remorse.”
“Oh, ow. It hurts. Please, it is burning me.” I am writhing in earnest now, the horrid tingling inside my rear hole gaining strength. It feels hot, the discomfort gathering by the second.
“You will find it a little more comfortable if you can remain still and refrain from clenching.” Piers offers the helpful advice with a distinct smile upon his handsome visage. He is enjoying this no end.
“I cannot. It is too sore.” I roll onto my back, then onto my stomach again, desperately seeking some relief from the incessant searing. Nothing works. I try lying on one side, then on the other, before I scramble into a kneeling position. My rear end is throbbing, the intensity of the sensation causing me to gasp and moan. I am crying now, plead
ing with them to remove the vile root.
Ralf is unsympathetic. “Lie down, Linnet, and keep still. You do yourself no good with all this wriggling. The effects will last for perhaps an hour, then the pain will fade. This is happening and I suggest you resign yourself to it.”
“I cannot. Please…”
“Accept it. Or we could contrive to make it even worse.” Piers quirks his lip at me. It is on the tip of my tongue to suggest he go straight to hell but I manage to contain that dangerous urge. Instead I lie on my side and try to concentrate on breathing evenly.
An hour, Ralf said. I can last for an hour, surely.
Piers offers his brother a wicked smile. “She looks rather more comfortable than I would like. I believe we may need to intervene, brother.”
“You have sadistic tendencies, I fear.” Ralf offers no further argument in my defence.
“You misunderstand me. I merely thought that perhaps we should insist that our chastened wife refrain from lolling about in bed and join us down in the hall for the noon meal.”
“Ah, my apologies. You are right, of course. Come, Linnet, on your feet. We shall aid you in putting your clothes back on.”
“No, I cannot.”
“That was not a suggestion, little maid. It was a command. Stand up, now.”
Piers’ amused tone has hardened but even that is not sufficient to overcome the searing agony within my rear hole. Every movement I make creates a fresh jolt of liquid fire. I just want to remain here until it ends. I do not believe it to be conceivable that I could appear downstairs in this state.
“Sir, I cannot move. I will remain here, I promise, if you want to eat.”
“We will not leave you alone during a punishment. And we are hungry, so you must accompany us to the great hall. This is your final chance. Do it now, or we will have no option but to take the necessary steps to convince you of the wisdom of obedience.”
I push myself up onto my knees but can do no more. I let out a squeal of pain as the root shifts and rubs within me, abrading my delicate inner walls without mercy. “Please, my lords, do not make me go downstairs.”
