The Conquered Brides Collection

by Renee Rose, Ashe Barker, Sue Lyndon, Korey Mae Johnson

“Tell me about it, love.”

  “I woke up in the night. I heard a noise, and I thought it was you. I thought that you had come home. I wanted to see you so I got out of bed and went to your solar. B-but you were not there. I was looking for you, and I banged into the mirror. The big one that stands beside the window. It fell and it broke. Otto came. He had a lamp. He called for Mathilde and told her to see me back in bed. In the morning the pieces of the mirror were gone, I do not know where it is now.”

  “The shards of glass might have injured someone, so I buried them.”

  I turn my head at the new voice. A tall man in his middle years has taken a seat on my other side.

  “Ah, Otto. I was wondering where you might be. You will by now have heard that we are honoured by the presence of a new duchess.”

  “Indeed, my lord. And may I say what pleasure it is to meet you, my lady. This keep will benefit from a mistress.” His gaze is fixed pointedly upon the tiny figure huddled in my husband’s lap. I wonder if disciplining small girls is to form part of my housekeeping duties. I do hope not, for I shall have no aptitude for it.

  “Clare, you should not wander around the castle at night. Not on your own, and not without a light.” Stefan’s tone is serious now, and when Clare would have pressed her face into his chest again he cups her chin and holds her gaze. “If Otto had not come when he did, you might have been injured. You could have cut yourself and I would not have wanted that. You are my very precious little girl and I do not want anything bad to happen to you. I will punish you, but it is not because I am angry about the mirror. It is because I want to keep you safe. Do you understand that?”

  She nods, her eyes filling with tears again.

  “Tomorrow you will help Otto to clean the mirrors that remain to us. You are to spend all morning at it. That is to be your punishment. You will work hard and you will not complain. Is that clear?”

  Clare nods, the faintest of smiles playing at the corners of her mouth. She looks as though a huge burden has been lifted, the weight of the guilt she has carried, and perhaps fear of her punishment too.

  I know that feeling.

  Chapter Ten

  I should insist that Clare take her usual seat in order that I can devote my full attention to my new bride on her first evening in my home, but I do not have the heart for that. Instead, I allow her to remain in my lap while we eat.

  Her eyes are fixed on Tally. Clare observes every move my wife makes, listens to every word. She is fascinated, and I sense terrified too. She has already lost one mama, perhaps she fears accepting this new one lest disaster might strike a second time. I have not the words to reassure her, so I fall back on kindness and as much patience as I can muster. This has ever been my strategy with Clare, and hope that these will be sufficient to bring my timid little goddaughter out of her shell. Now though, I have Tally too to aid my efforts and I hope the pair of them will become close. I do my best, but Clare needs a woman’s love.

  By the time the repast is over Clare has fallen asleep. I shift her in my arms to find better ease for both of us.

  “She is a pretty child. Did you say that she is cousin to your sons? Your niece then?”

  I turn to Tally, who has been quiet by my side throughout the meal. I suppose Clare is not the only female here somewhat awed by the circumstances in which she finds herself. I shake my head.

  “Strictly speaking, she is not. Clare’s father, Edmund de Ranelagh was one of my knights, a man of courage and honour. I liked him very much.”

  “He is dead then?”

  “Yes. He died at my side in battle, in Lombardy.” I pause to recollect. It was a skirmish in which I might well have lost my own life but for Karl’s intervention. But fate was on my side that day. It was not on Edmund’s. “He fell as the battle drew to a close. We carried him from the field, barely alive. He died after perhaps an hour. In that time though he charged me to see to the welfare of his widow and unborn child. Eleanor, Lady de Ranelagh, did not choose to reside here at Richtenholst though I invited her to join our household. She and my own late wife were cousins, but they did not like each other overmuch. I think we were all a little relieved that Eleanor chose to maintain her home separately in a manor house about five miles from here.”

  Tally frowns, and I realise this is the first time I have mentioned my first wife to her. Until meeting my sons a couple of hours ago I doubt she even contemplated the possibility that, like her, I had been married previously. But Juliana is dead now, has been gone for over a year. I loved her well enough and mourned her passing, but my concern is with the living. I return to my story.

  “Clare was born a few weeks after her father died. I am her godfather. Juliana, my wife, was her godmother. We would see Clare occasionally, when Eleanor would come here for feast days and the like. I was away at the emperor’s court when a messenger arrived here with the news that Eleanor was ill. I was to learn later that she had been caught in a downpour and took a chill, which turned to a fever. Despite the tension that had always existed between them, Juliana insisted it was her Christian duty to care for her cousin, so she left for the manor house. Perhaps if I had been here I might have dissuaded her. Still, her mission was to no avail, and Eleanor was dead within a couple of days. Tragically, Juliana was not far behind her. My wife contracted the same fever, and did not recover either.

  “I returned to Richtenholst to find my household in confusion, my boys motherless, and an orphaned Clare awaiting me. The messenger who brought the news of their deaths had brought Clare to Richtenholst with him, a tiny girl aged just two. Up to that point I had left the parenting to Juliana. She was good at it and ran my household with an efficiency that left me in awe. Otto and Helena were doing all they could, but their new responsibilities in the wake of Juliana’s sudden demise were overwhelming. No one knew what Clare’s future might be, whether she would remain here or not, and I suppose she became lost in the chaos. Had I been here her security would have been confirmed at once and she would have been adopted into my family. By the time I arrived home, she was already withdrawn, a silent, timid little presence. As her godfather, it is my responsibility to care for her. I do my best but she is only now starting to regain her confidence and she is easily upset.”

  “You are a good father.”

  “I try to be, though I confess it is not always easy. I am improving with practice.”

  “I will help, my lord.”

  I scan Tally’s features, and I am somewhat surprised to see tears in her eyes. She is clearly moved by Clare’s story, and I hope this bodes well for their future relationship. I cannot demand genuine affection between my wife and my adopted child, but that will not deter me from hoping.

  “I know, and I appreciate it. I will welcome your aid with Clare. She is not an easy child, but I have sworn to care for her, and I will.”

  “That is very kind of you, especially as she is not a blood relative.”

  “You are not the first to offer such an observation, and it never fails to baffle me. I am not Clare’s sire, but she is my responsibility as I was the liege lord of her parents. Her father died in my service, her mother was related by marriage. I swore to Sir Edmund that I would care for his family and I intend to keep my word.” I meet her gaze, and hold it. “You need to understand, Tally, I will protect those who rely on me. This includes you now. All my children are very dear to me, my sons and this little girl who ended up in my care. Mine is a close family and as my wife you will be at the heart of it. I will not insist you love my children as I do, I realise that would be futile. But in time, perhaps you might grow close.”

  “I apologise. I meant no offence. It is just that…” Her words trail off, though I wonder if perhaps she has more to say on the matter. I wait, but nothing is forthcoming. I trust I have made my position clear as far as my children are concerned. Now, it is time for a shift in the mood.

  “I will send for Helena soon, to take Clare to her chamber. Then you and I may retire, Tally.”<
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  My bride’s startled expression suggests she has not forgotten my promise to redden her bottom at the first opportunity. I know what she is anticipating, a hard spanking followed by an equally hard fucking. A pleasant enough prospect to be sure, but not exactly what I have in mind.

  As my cock starts to stir in readiness, my need for Helena becomes more urgent. It is one of the qualities of a fine servant that she would anticipate her lord’s needs and Helena does not disappoint. I get to my feet, Clare still cradled in my arms, at the very moment the cook appears from the kitchens. She hurries over to my side.

  “Ah, the poor little poppet. She must be exhausted. Shall I take her, my lord?”

  “Thank you.” I relinquish my burden. “See her safe to bed. And Helena, would you assign a maid to watch over her for the next few weeks. If she awakens in the night and has a wish to go wandering around, I prefer that she does not do so unescorted. And she is to have a light.”

  “Of course, my lord. Mathilde will be well suited to the task. I will see to it.”

  I wait until the pair have disappeared up the narrow staircase before turning my attention back to my two sons, bickering as ever.

  “You two should seeks your beds also. I expect to see both of you out in the courtyard soon after first light tomorrow. I will be ready to inspect your progress with the sword and the longbow so I hope your performance lives up to your boasts earlier.”

  I have had this conversation with my sons on many occasions and I know what is to come. I halt the answering rush of enthusiastic assurances with a raised hand. “Enough. Let your actions speak for you. Now, ‘tis late so away to your chamber.”

  They know when not to press me further. Both get to their feet and start to make their way across the hall, after Helena. Halfway to the staircase Fabian stops. He turns, then rushes back to fling his arms around my neck.

  “I missed you so much. I am pleased you are home.”

  I fear my attempt at a stern demeanour slips a little as I hug him in return. “It is good to be back, my son. Though you and I still need to have a conversation about what you said to your cousin. You know how timid Clare is, how easily frightened. I rely on you and Alex to take care of her when I cannot be here.”

  “I never meant to upset her. But it was your favourite mirror. It belonged to our mother.”

  “I appreciate that. But as your mother would have been the first to point out, things can be replaced. People cannot. Clare is a part of our family now and we must all take care of her. Will you help me with that?”

  Fabian nods, earning himself a final pat between the shoulder blades.

  “Off with you. I will see you in the morning. Do not be late.” He scampers after this brother. I watch him trot across the hall and cannot conceal my smile. He is a good lad and I am proud of my children, all of them.

  But now, I am at last alone at the table with Tally.

  “I meant what I said. I will help, with Clare I mean. I thought perhaps I might clean the mirrors with her in the morning. Otto must have other matters to occupy him.” She is smiling at me, her expression uncertain, as though she still doubts her place here. I aim to dispel those fears. But first…

  “I expected nothing less but still I am pleased to hear you say it. I am sure Otto will appreciate the help and I want you to get to know Clare. Now though, I think I should make you acquainted with our bedchamber.” I lean in, my next words are intended for her ears alone. “How is your bottom, sweetheart? Not still sore I trust?”

  Her face flushes, the redness creeping from her neck upwards. I love it when she does that. My cock swells in my chausses at the mere anticipation of seeing that gorgeous bottom displayed for my punishment once more. Soon. Very soon.

  “Follow me.” I stand and march across the hall.

  The soft footfalls behind me are sufficient evidence to convince me that Tally is not entirely dismayed at the prospect of another spanking. I smile to myself as she trails in my wake. I take the stairs two at a time and lead the way to the master chamber. I open the door then stand back to gesture her inside.

  I am familiar with the room, but of course Tally is not. Once inside I allow her a few moments to gaze around her and assess her new environment. The room is comfortable enough, I would accept no less. The fire casts a soft warmth that fills the chamber. I hate the cold and my servants have instructions to keep the fires in my quarters well-tended. The floor is made of wood, but strewn with a variety of rugs so bare feet are an option. A garderobe is discreetly enclosed behind a screen, and sweetened by bunches of pungent herbs refreshed on a daily basis.

  The stone walls have been rendered with lime and mortar that excludes all but the most determined draughts, then painted in a design to imitate stonework, decorated with five petaled roses. The usual ochre shades of reds and browns have been supplemented by greens and blues that I purchased on my travels around the surrounding kingdoms. I could flaunt my wealth in the great hall downstairs, and I do so to some extent, but I have always preferred to reserve the greatest comforts for my own private enjoyment. And now Tally’s. I dislike austerity and have the means to indulge my tastes, so the comforts of my private chamber are further enhanced by thick hangings and tapestries collected over several generations, which adorn my walls and also serve to retain the heat.

  Tally no doubt takes in much of these details, but her attention is mainly riveted on the solid bed in the centre of the room. It is old, belonged to my father, and I believe my grandfather before him. It has stood in this chamber for at least three generations and is likely to see off several more. The bed curtains, embroidered by my grandmother with the vivid reds and golds of the Richtenholst crest, hang from the ceiling. They provide both warmth and seclusion, and are pulled back now to reveal the mattress stuffed with down, and the straw-filled bolster at the head.

  The room is lit by two torches, their glow mingling with the firelight to create an atmosphere that is intimate yet quite sufficient for me to enjoy the glorious sight of my bride’s naked bottom.

  “Tally, I recall you mentioned a preference for being naked when I spank you.” That is not exactly what she said, but I am an optimist.

  She casts me a nervous glance. “Yes, of course, Stefan. But it has been a long journey, and although our welcome has been warm enough I am fatigued. I wonder, could we not just go to bed?”

  It would seem my bride is an optimist also.

  “Tally, I do not appreciate being kept waiting. Undress, please.” I harden my tone on purpose, just a little, sufficient to end this procrastination. I want her compliant, but not cowed.

  I must have managed to strike the right balance because Tally makes no further ado, divesting herself of her kirtle and undergarments. I detect a slight hesitation before she unlaces her chemise and slides it from her shoulders to reveal her exquisite breasts. It would seem there has been some rekindling of her modesty after our enforced abstinence this last two days and nights. I intend to dispel that.

  Despite the warmth of the fire she is shivering, her eyes downcast. She is nervous, no doubt feeling vulnerable. Knowing this I offer no praise, no compliments on the exquisite perfection of her body now bared to me. Instead I feign indifference, requiring her to quell those doubts herself. I leave Tally to stand in the centre of my chamber, nude, whilst I perch on the edge of the bed to unfasten my boots and kick those off. Then I pull my tunic over my head and rid myself of my shirt. This will do for now. I settle on the bed, my back against the headboard.

  I summon her to me with a hand gesture. She approaches, her expression apprehensive. She is gnawing on that bottom lip again. I doubt that habit will persist for much longer, but I intend to enjoy it while it lasts.

  “Lie across my lap and fold your hands in the small of your back.” I am careful to maintain a low, even tone. She needs to know that I mean what I say, and that I am calm even though she is not.

  She obeys me in silence. This is progress. The last time I put her over m
y knee I recall her protests were most vigorous.

  “Make yourself comfortable, and tell me when you are ready.”

  She wriggles on my lap, causing my already solid cock to twitch and strain against my chausses. Perhaps I should have stripped completely after all. Still, we are here now. She reaches behind her and clasps her hands together at the base of her spine.

  “I am ready, Stefan.”

  I am gratified to note that she is becoming quite good at getting my name right. Such an avid pupil. This night I have another lesson for her.

  I lay my palm on her pert, round buttock and caress the delicate globe. There is no hint of redness or of bruising from my earlier attentions, which is both relief and disappointment to me. I like to see a woman carrying my marks, but I have no wish to cause either too much discomfort or unnecessary harm to her. I will view Tally’s pale, delicate curves as a blank canvas this evening.

  I draw my hand over her bottom, making large circles, first on one side, then the other. I press on hard, my fingers sinking into the firm yet soft flesh. Tally lets out a sigh, and appears to be enjoying this despite her obvious trepidation that my caress may be a prelude to a more challenging episode.

  I continue to stroke as she arches her back to offer me more of her bottom. I suspect she is doing this with no conscious thought, just relaxing into the moment.

  The first tap, when I deliver it, is so soft, so light as to pass unnoticed. I massage her curves a little more, then drop another light smack on her pinkening cheek. Still no reaction. I continue, increasing the intensity by increments until the sensation starts to register.

  “Oh. Oh, Stefan.” She breathes the words on a low moan.

  I increase the pressure again, just a little, nothing to jar, nothing to disturb the intimacy of this moment. The pleasure is shared. I admire the deepening hue of her bottom as the spanking builds, and Tally writhes under my hand, her soft moans all the response I need to hear.

  I maintain the intensity of my slaps for several minutes before ramping the pressure up again, just enough to elicit a gasp. Tally clenches her buttocks, the relaxed softness replaced by tight, wincing flesh. Her bottom has darkened to a bright crimson, the heat radiating from her tender skin. She whimpers, and I know this is enough. I have brought her to the point of pain and edged her slightly beyond. She is uncomfortable and expects to become more so in the coming few minutes. She is anticipating a punishment, after all. Instead I begin our descent, reducing the severity of the blows, interspersing sharp slaps with gentle caresses to soothe the burn away. At once her bottom softens again and she relaxes under my ministrations, allowing her body to sag in relief, boneless across mine.