The source of heat shifts, and I become aware of the living, breathing male presence beside me. The events of yesterday come clamouring back into my mind.
The castle is taken, conquered. The royal family are captured, imprisoned, or have fled. Or, as in my case, been claimed as brides. My husband-to-be is sleeping at my side, his huge, naked form both warm and vibrant, and utterly terrifying.
I am also nude, and as the events of yesterday rush back at me I recall why this is. I attempted to escape, believing I might make my way back into the castle by way of one of the underground passages. I had planned to return to Sophia, to be assured of her safety. Instead, I almost lost my life. I owe my very survival to the duke of Richtenholst, the powerful presence slumbering beside me.
I really should not be snuggled up to him in this manner. Even were we properly wed, it would not be quite seemly. Certainly I never shared a bed nor any other such intimacy in either of my previous marriages.
I shift, intending to ease myself away from his solid body. At my first movement he tightens his arm around me, holding me secure against him.
“Where are you thinking of making off to now, my lady?”
His voice is rich and deep. I sense the vibrations in his chest as he chuckles.
“I was, I mean, I thought… I am sorry, my lord. I did not intend to wake you.” I do not usually stammer, but he seems to bring out such nervousness in me I find it hard to string two sensible words together.
“I don’t doubt that. But since we are both now awake, shall we get on? We have much to accomplish this day. Starting with your spanking.”
I stiffen, press my lips together. I knew, of course I knew this was coming. I remember full well his words of last night. But I had wondered in some optimistic corner of my brain if he might forget. Or relent. It would seem not.
I am not above begging if that might help my plight. “My lord, please. This is not necessary. I am truly sorry for what I did yesterday and for all the trouble I caused you. Such will never occur again, I swear that.”
“It pleases me to hear this. I accept your apology, and your promise.”
Thank heaven.
“So now we have only to deal with the matter of your suitable chastisement, then it will be done with.”
Oh. Oh, no.
He continues. “Unless of course you remain too fragile following your exertions of yesterday. You took quite a battering. How are your ribs this morning?”
My lord the duke eases himself up into a sitting position, his back propped against the headboard. I peer up at him from my safe haven among the blankets and furs. Despite my dire circumstances, I have to confess he makes a magnificent sight.
I had little opportunity to study his features yesterday, but as I view him now in the clear morning light, I confess the duke is an uncommonly handsome man, though his features possess a certain severity. I suppose that comes with his station, and his profession as a soldier. His dark blond hair reaches his shoulders, and is both thick and wavy. It looks soft too, and I suppress an unaccountable urge to run my fingers through those tawny locks. His eyes are blue, a piercing, deep shade that puts me in mind of the kingfishers that inhabit the banks of the river flowing along the borders of Hohenzollern. His azure gaze is now locked on mine. His lips are full, and they curl in a friendly enough smile. Despite his intent, his demeanour toward me seems pleasant.
His chest is broad, the muscles there clearly defined. They ripple under his tanned skin, reminding me that his power over me is physical as well as legal. If he intends to spank me, he will. His arms are solid, the strength there plain to see. He said he would hurt me. I have no doubt of it.
“My lady, your ribs?”
I draw a deep breath to expand my lungs, and find the effort neither too taxing, nor painful. I test the area of bruising with my fingertips and find it to be tender but not sore. I consider laying claim to a greater fragility than would be accurate, but decide against that. The best I might achieve is a delay, and throughout the period of waiting I would be tense, afraid of what was to come. Better to get this done with now.
Probably.
“I, I am fine, my lord.”
“I see. And your head? Any remaining dizziness or headache?”
I shake the head in question. He nods his.
“Your ankle will not be affected by what I intend for you, but I shall ask anyway. Can you stand? Can you walk?”
“I believe I shall be able to do so, my lord. After a fashion.”
“That is good. But you are shaking, my lady.” He lifts one eyebrow, whilst also reaching to caress my cheek. “You are afraid of your first punishment at my hands, I understand that. Be assured that you will come to no harm from me.”
I work to regain some semblance of control, though in truth he is right. Despite my determination to see this matter concluded, I am terrified. I contemplate even now attempting to make a run for it, but the dull throbbing in my ankle convinces me this would be futile. Counter-productive even. I have no wish to provoke him further.
Except that he does not have the appearance of an angry man. He seems calm, amused almost. And in no particular hurry to lay into me.
“If you need a private moment to relieve yourself first, that will be fine with me. Or perhaps you are hungry. Your spanking can wait until you have broken your fast, though I will insist that you remain naked.”
At his mention of a private moment my bladder makes its presence felt. I would appreciate that comfort, though I can find no appetite for food.
“Is there a privy I could use?” My voice sounds so small, pitiful even. Can he discern the threat of tears? My pride hopes not.
“Madam, this is a battlefield populated almost entirely by rude foot soldiers. There is no privy. There are however several buckets scattered around the tent from your bath yesterday, and you are free to make use of one of those. I will allow you a few minutes alone.”
He throws back the blankets that have been covering his lower body and stands up, his back to me. I am treated to a fine view of his taut buttocks and powerful thighs as he reaches to retrieve his chausses from the floor. He pulls those on and turns to me.
“You have your five minutes. Use them well. And my lady, you are shortly to endure a hard spanking, my hand on your bare bottom. If you so much as think about repeating your escapade of yesterday I will take a switch to your arse. You really do not want that. Not on the first day of your married life.” He tips me a polite nod from the doorway, then ducks through the opening to leave me to my toilet.
I stare after him for a few moments, resenting the implied further threats. I have given my word, he had no need to reiterate the details of my predicament. Sulking will avail me nothing however. I shove back the blankets and leap into action. Or rather, I hobble. I extricate myself from the snug furs and perch on the side of the bed shivering. The December morning is chilly, despite the still warm stones making up the stove in the centre of this tent. I wonder, did the duke replenish them during the night? Or perhaps it was his servant, Karl. The servant I know I must face this morning too.
I get to my feet and try an experimental step forward. My ankle throbs, but it is bearable. My ribs trouble me hardly at all. I manage to make my way to the bucket closest to me and use it to do what is necessary. I would take it to empty outside but the duke ordered me to remain unclothed.
I comb my fingers through my hair, but with no looking glass available to me I cannot properly braid it. I draw it back into a loose, rough plait, but by now I feel sure my allotted time must be almost up. Modesty propels me to scramble back into bed and I curl up under the covers to wait.
The duke does not keep me waiting long. He re-enters the tent, halting just inside the doorway to regard me. His features bear an odd expression, somewhere between amusement and regret. But I detect no sign of a reprieve.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
I nod.
“Ready then?”
Again I nod, but not so fa
st this time. I know this is going to happen. There is no merit in drawing it out. But even so…
The duke strides over to the table and pulls out one of the chairs. He turns it to face the bed and seats himself upon it. His bare torso is glistening, droplets of water clearly visible on his skin, and his hair is darkened by the remaining damp. He must have completed his ablutions whilst outside.
“Stop cowering among the furs, Natalia, and get yourself over to me. Now.” His tone has hardened, and the temperature in the tent seems to me to drop. I know better than to delay any longer. This is inevitable, and it is happening now.
I slip from the bed and stand beside it, my weight balanced on my left leg. I cannot resist the urge to cross my arms in front of my chest.
The duke frowns. “You said you were able to walk.”
“Yes, my lord. A little.”
Despite my reply he stands and comes toward me. At his advance my courage fails me and I step back with a small, frightened squeak. I turn to face the wall, cowering, ready to plead for whatever mercy he might see fit to grant me.
He does not speak to me. Instead he places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him, then gathers my shivering form against his chest. He enfolds me in his arms, murmuring into my hair.
“Be still, little one, calm down. I mean you no harm.” His hand works large, soothing circles across my back, between my shoulder blades, then reaching lower, to my waist, my soon-to-be spanked bottom.
“My lord, please, I am sorry. Truly.” I am sobbing now, my tears moistening his chest.
He tightens his arms around me, pressing me against him. “Trust me, Natalia. I will take care of you. I would never injure you. This will soon be over.”
“But, I am so scared.”
“I know that, and I know you regret what you did.” He pauses, but continues the calming massage. After a few moments he continues. “I promise you I will be a firm husband to you, but a fair and loving one also. If you cannot bring yourself to accept your punishment now then we will leave it. I will not drag you, weeping and screaming across my knee. But I do want you to accept the discipline you have earned, and to learn from it. If not now, then soon. Can you do that, my lady?”
He does not press for my answer. He just holds me, and he waits.
At last, gulping, I succeed in mustering some semblance of control. And courage. And, incredibly, trust. His words have affected me, in particular his promise not to force his discipline upon me. He is asking me to willingly accept my fault and the consequences of it. I think, now, that I can.
“Very well, my lord. I am ready.”
He uses one hand to tip my chin up, meeting my gaze. He smiles at me, then dips his head to lay a soft kiss across my lips. He releases me from his solid embrace, then turns. He wraps his arm around me, taking my weight.
“I can see that your ankle pains you. Let me help.”
With his aid I make my way to the chair, where he retakes his seat.
“You will lay yourself across my lap, with your hands and feet on the floor.”
I gulp, brush the remaining tears from my face, and chew on my lip for a moment. Then I shuffle to his side. I adopt the position he has instructed, determined to quash my sense of humiliation that he has placed me in such an undignified posture. Sweet Jesu’, let this soon be done.
“That’s good, but could you lift your bottom up a little higher for me please?”
So polite. I have no option but to shift around until I am poised just as he wishes, my bottom raised for him to spank.
“That is fine. I will spank you until I feel you have had enough and I will decide when your punishment is complete. You can make as much noise as you like. I fully expect you to be somewhat vocal. But you are not to move until I tell you to. You will not lift your hands to try to protect your bottom, nor will you kick. You will remain in this position, quite still, until I am finished. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lord.” I clench my buttocks, anticipating the first spank.
“Do you have any questions about why I am punishing you?”
He seems to be in no hurry to start. I whisper my response, desperate for this to be over. “No, my lord. I know it is because I disobeyed you.”
“Yes, that. And also because of the danger you put yourself in. I left you here to ensure you were safe. By leaving the security of my tent you placed yourself in peril. As your husband it is my responsibility to protect you, to ensure your safety. I will not permit you to compromise that, now or in the future. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I think so.”
“We will see. But for now…”
I scream as the first spank lands on my right cheek, but manage not to move. The second swat sears my left cheek, and I cry out again. The spanks continue to rain down on my upturned bottom, and I swear that despite his promise to take care of me he is hitting me as hard as he can. The punishing blows all blend into each other as he delivers the spanking, hard and fast, until my bottom feels to be on fire. Yet still he continues, setting a truly blistering pace. I lose count at twelve strokes as he shifts slightly to better reach my upper thighs. I am sobbing, and can no longer hold the position. I lift my right leg, and he pauses.
“Do you want me to start all over again, Natalia?”
“No, my lord. But my ankle hurts.”
“I see. Then I will overlook your disobedience on this occasion. But be assured, Natalia, that while in the course of a punishment I expect absolute compliance from you. I will make allowances on this occasion only.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Your bottom is clenched. I want it soft, relaxed. Accept what is happening, do not try to resist. This will continue until you submit to your punishment.”
I groan, mortified, and allow my body to go limp across his knees. I can do nothing to help myself. I have to bear this and hope it soon ends.
“Good girl. Stay soft now and this will soon be over.”
I do not entirely take his meaning, but my brief surge of pleasure at his apparent approval is soon dispelled as he resumes the spanking, dropping the hard slaps all over my unprotected buttocks and thighs. I am still sobbing, though no longer screaming. The pain is harsh, severe, my body feels to be aflame. But it is bearable, as he said it would be. I hate this, I am in agony, but I have ceased any resistance and I will survive it.
“Natalia? Are you still with me?”
“I… what did you say, my lord?” My head is swimming, I am confused, uncertain. My backside is stinging, but the onslaught seems to have stopped, at least for now. Is he finished?
“We’re done. You may get up if you like, but I would prefer you to remain where you are.”
“What? Why?”
“Part your thighs for me, my lady.” His tone has softened now, his voice almost velvety.
“Your grace, I do not think…”
“I prefer not to ask you again, Natalia.” He has laid his palm on my smarting rear and is caressing my buttock. I wince, but the hurt soon recedes, to be replaced by—what? He is generating an unaccustomed sensation of warmth, but not the painful smarting heat of the spanking just moments ago. This is more a soft, seductive assault on my heightened senses, insistent yet tender too.
I part my legs, and hold my breath.
“Good girl. Let me make this feel good for you.” His fingers slip into the crease between my buttocks, questing, exploring. I gasp as his fingertip finds the private pucker of my anus, circling the tight opening before delving lower, between my delicate folds.
My late husband used to touch me in a similar way, but it never felt like this. There is no similarity. The duke’s touch is assured, skilled, he seems to know exactly how to arouse me, and despite my recent degradation at his hands, my response now is swift. And powerful. Irresistible.
“Your grace, you should not…”
“No? Should I stop then?” He punctuates his words with another gentle caress across the lips of my quim, then sin
ks two fingers deep inside me.
“Oh, my lord! Sweet Jesu’…” I let out a low moan and fail to resist the impulse to squeeze my inner muscles around his thrusting fingers.
“I am not to stop then?” His tone is light, but I detect the serious edge to it. He requires me to answer.
“No, your grace. Please do not stop. Not quite yet.”
He chuckles, and delivers a couple of deep, driving thrusts into my soaking quim. “Not quite yet, then. On one condition.”
His fingers inside me go still, though his palm continues to massage my tender buttocks. The pain radiating across my rear now feels sensuous, heightening my enjoyment of what else he is doing to me. The contrast between almost-pain and pure pleasure is delicious, exquisite. I need him to continue.
“Condition, my lord? What condition?” I think I would have agreed to sell my soul to Lucifer if such were required to convince him to resume his delightful stroking.
“It does seem to me, as a general rule, that if a man should find occasion to place any part of his anatomy inside the body of a woman, she should be able to bring herself to use his given name. I would have you call me by mine. It is Stefan.”
“Stefan. Yes, please…”
He chuckles again. “Better. Now, let us see what happens when I…” He shifts his position, twisting his hand just a little.
I let out a startled shriek as my body starts to convulse around his fingers. He rubs, and something seems to ignite within me, a clenching heat radiating through my shuddering body. The duke—Stefan—continues his ministrations, and the pleasure builds, threatening to overwhelm me.
On occasions, rare occasions, I experienced something similar during my second marriage, but nothing so intense. My late husband’s touch was pleasurable, but never so—compelling. If Stefan stops whatever it is he is doing to me, I suspect I might attempt to do him some injury. I writhe on Stefan’s lap, panting, squeezing, gasping as his fingers continue to pleasure me. I want more, but I could not possibly articulate what I desire more of.
Stefan seems to know, and his skilled touch works me to near frenzy before he suddenly stops. I let out a groan of frustration when he withdraws his fingers, then clutch his neck when he turns me in his arms and lifts me. He carries me to the bed with two long strides and lays me upon it on my back. He settles alongside me and slides his hand between my thighs again. This time I do not wait to be instructed, I spread my legs as wide as I am able. Modesty is for now forgotten. I simply need.
The Conquered Brides Collection Page 26
