A Stern Lord for My Lady

by R. R. Vane

  He was aware she was still sobbing softly, as she lay in her undignified position, and he felt very guilty for his enjoyment of the punishment. He was indeed aroused by the intimacy of the punishment they’d shared, yet he did not truly take pleasure in her discomfort. He also knew he’d humiliated her in front of the entire court, and, to a proud woman like Lady Alicia, the humiliation must burn ten times worse than the spanking itself. He hadn’t failed but notice she had not begged for mercy or forgiveness. She was proud, and, he had to admit, valiant, even in her defiance. He’d known grown men, soldiers, who didn’t display as much restraint and dignity when they took their punishment.

  He gently lowered and straightened her skirts, covering her bottom, and noting she sobbed even harder as he did so. He’d been often spanked in his childhood, so he knew too well the kind of pain she was experiencing now. He felt sorry for her, as he helped her stand up. He saw her wince in pain, and cover her bottom with both hands, rubbing it furiously for a moment. Then he saw her become fully aware of the crowd simpering behind her. Lady Alicia gritted her teeth, and suddenly let go of her bottom, straightening herself and squaring her shoulders, in a regal gesture. She had dignity, that much was plain, and he couldn’t help but admire the way she now faced the crowd, head held high, as she calmly wiped her tear-stained face with the kerchief she’d pulled from her sleeve.

  “Let this be a lesson to all haughty, presumptuous wives,” King Henry said, rising, obviously meaning this jab for Queen Eleanor who was at strife with her royal husband.

  Queen Eleanor smiled brilliantly, apparently oblivious at her husband’s jab. Bertran had always privately thought she was twice the ruler her husband was, but the king was his liege, and it was to him he would always offer his loyalty first.

  “Now, since the dire part of this day is over, let us get on with the merry part of it. An exchange of vows, followed by a wedding feast, which Lord de Lancres has been kind enough to provide at his own expense,” Eleanor said graciously.

  De Lancres nodded, rather green in the face. Bertran knew only too well he’d been coerced into funding a lavish wedding feast for his daughter at Court, which Henry had demanded of him. Bertran himself did not particularly look forward to the feast. He despised crowds and court entertainments. But he supposed he would have to suffer through all of it. He cast a sideways glance at Lady Alicia, who was standing by his side, dejected, but straight as an arrow. She would certainly have to suffer through all of it. Even if he knew her punishment was well deserved, he felt sorry for her, especially since he knew she would have to suffer one more humiliation this night. She would have to lie with him, a bastard she despised.

  Honour decreed he should breach her maidenhead tonight, allowing for the sheets to be displayed as proof of his bride’s virginity. He didn’t put it past Lady Alicia to seek an annulment if he did not do the deed tonight. She might try to seek shelter in a convent if the marriage was not consummated, claiming her husband was in truth unable to claim his rights. Bertran could never shame his family thus. The taint of bastardy that had clung to him so long had shamed them enough.

  Truly not knowing how to act around a woman he’d just spanked, Bertran awkwardly offered Lady Alicia his arm. She glared at him, but, to his relief, she reluctantly took it. They proceeded to what was to follow.

  Chapter 3

  The rest of what happened took place in a sort of daze. Alicia’s bottom was blazing when she watched her father sign the marriage contract. And it still smarted, somewhat less fiercely, as Sir Bertran presented her with a wedding gift, as tradition decreed. Alicia felt like laughing, bitterly – he’d already gifted her with a stinging, crimson behind, so any other gifts now looked ridiculous. Still, she forced herself to accept his gift, wordlessly, with a gracious incline of her head. She was not addle-brained, and she understood too well that wails, tears or protests would serve to naught now. There was a royal decree, and her marriage would take place, whether she acquiesced or not. Besides, she had no doubt that the fiend, Sir Bertran, would not hesitate to take her over his knee again, for a new lesson in humility, if she dared protest. She ruefully glanced at his large right hand, noting, in impotent fury, that its palm was still somewhat reddened by the exertion he’d made when he’d spanked her. She fervently prayed that his hand felt at least an ounce of the burn that her own bottom was keenly feeling right now.

  On her finger, the groom slipped a ring with both their initials carved on it, as was proper. He pinned the gift he’d bestowed on her gown. It was a conventional gift – a ruby brooch, a symbol of fidelity. As the blessings and the vows were exchanged, Alicia sat through all of it like a martyr, striving not to fidget from one foot to the other, to take her mind off the soreness in her bottom.

  A serious issue presented itself later, when the newlyweds were supposed to seat themselves in their honour seats, beside their sovereigns, at the king’s high table on the dais. Ribald laughter and jokes assailed Alicia’s ears as she hesitated in front of the seat she was supposed to take, even after a page brought a red cushion for her comfort. Both the lords and the ladies assembled found great merriment in her hesitation, declaring loudly that the cushion looked as red as her spanked behind must still be. Both monarchs found equal entertainment in it, and the jest continued, as Alicia sat silent, blushing crimson. It was uncomfortable to sit down, but possible. She didn’t spare a single glance in her father’s direction. She felt sickened by his cowardly behaviour, and certain her deep humiliation could have been spared if he had been truthful with her.

  She gritted her teeth, and she braced herself to bear a wedding feast that was proving to be far more humiliating than any other thing she’d had to suffer. It was not how she’d ever pictured her wedding. A wedding was an occasion of joy and honour. She strived not to hang her head in utter shame, and stared at the trencher in front of her. She and Sir Bertran shared a knife, trencher and goblet, and she noted he’d already cut a choice morsel of venison, which he was offering to her. He was behaving graciously, as a courteous bridegroom should, when only hours before he’d spanked her hard to make her pay for the insult he’d received.

  She shook her head mutely. Tonight, she lacked all appetite.

  “You should eat something, my lady,” he told her in a deep voice.

  It was only the third time she’d heard him speak, and she vividly recalled she’d been lying across his lap, bare-assed, when she’d heard him speak first. Deep heat crept into her cheeks, as she shook her head again. She struggled to meet his gaze, lest he should think her a coward, but, in truth, she still felt deeply shamed by what had occurred between them. And she felt deeply shamed as that ignoble, treacherous fire ignited inside her sex when she looked upon his face. He was comely – perhaps not handsome according to all the canons of male beauty, but comely nevertheless, his comeliness strangely enhanced by the faint white scar slashing his left cheek, and by those arresting eyes, which were not blue or green or dark, but hazel and gold-flecked.

  The jokes and laughter around them rang harshly in her ears. Some of the guests were still making fun of her well spanked bottom and of the future chastisements her husband might have in store for her. Others were merrily bringing up the wedding night she and her lord would spend together, a wedding night that promised to be fiery indeed, in view of what had occurred. Sir Bertran didn’t seem any more amused by the general merriment than she was. He just sat through all of it with a rather grim expression on his face, eating calmly. She noted he drank sparingly. She decided to take a sip of wine, and felt somewhat restored by it.

  He perused her with his gold-flecked eyes.

  “You should not drink on an empty belly,” he cautioned her gruffly, extending a new morsel of meat to her. She frowned at him, already disliking the way he was presuming to command her. Sir Erec would have made a biddable, genial husband, and he’d have suited her fierce disposition better. This man was not the right choice, even if he stirred that treacherous, lusty heat inside
her. Alicia wondered what could be wrong with her, to moon over a man vain enough to want to humiliate her in front of everyone to see.

  She shook her head.

  “I cannot bear food right now,” she said, making her meaning plain by casting him a disdainful stare.

  She’d been wrong to believe him merciful for sparing her the switch. Wasn’t he the one who’d demanded she be punished in full view of everyone, in order to pay for the insult? And wasn’t he the one whose ambition had spurred him to covet her dowry? He was certainly arrogant and vain. And she suspected he’d spared her the switch just in order to make a show of his magnanimity in front of the court. She harboured no illusions, however. He would make good use of it in the future. He was not a compliant, biddable husband, but one who would demand blind obedience. And Alicia knew herself not to be an obedient, meek woman. She had a temper, and she had no doubt he’d try to bring her to heel. She had been right to reject his suit. They were simply not right for one another.

  He raised his eyebrows at her, and Alicia calmly wondered if he’d make her pay for her effrontery later. No matter. It would be just one more, painful humiliation to add to the one she’d undergone earlier. She pictured her future life, and she didn’t like what she envisaged.

  “As you wish, my lady,” he told her, turning away from her, and taking a sip from the goblet they shared.

  Soon it was time for the bedding and Bertran braced himself for the full, tedious, ribald ceremony. He bore the jokes of those who attended to his undressing, and who helped him into a fur-lined robe, and waited patiently for the time when he should join his bride in the bedchamber that had been readied and blessed for the wedding night. He strived hard to plaster an eager smile on his face, as he let his laughing attendants lead him to the bedchamber when it was announced that the bride was ready for the bedding. He strived to smile so no one would perceive his doubt and anguish. He’d punished the lady, and he feared she would prove unwilling to share the bed with him. Yet the deed had to be done tonight. Bertran prayed fervently that the lady would prove herself willing.

  Once he’d been brought to the bedchamber, he observed Lady Alicia was fully naked, with only the curtain of her luscious chestnut hair to shield her. As custom decreed, the ladies who had helped her undress now raised her thick long hair to reveal her naked body in all its glory. Large, overripe breasts with pink nipples that looked like rosebuds, pleasantly rounded hips and shapely thighs. In her dress, Lady Alicia had looked attractive, but in her nakedness she looked simply beautiful. He should have expected it. Hadn’t he glanced upon her naked bottom and found it simply wonderful to behold?

  The ladies bid Lady Alicia to turn round for her groom to look for blemishes, but there were none he could see. He held his breath noticing her naked, luscious bottom, still glowing red from the spanking he’d delivered earlier. There was more laughter and teasing from those gathered to witness the bedding, but he turned a deaf ear to it all, unable to take his eyes off his new bride. She might have been unwilling. She might disdain him. She might be furious at him for what he’d done, but, at this moment, he found he didn’t care for any of it. He simply wanted her.

  He stood patiently while his own attendants got him out of the robe he now wore, parading him naked in front of everyone to see including his bride, who should in her turn be able to spot any blemishes that might be there. He nearly blushed as he felt her green gaze on him. It was a bold gaze that seemed to be taking in everything there was to see. There were his battle scars, of course, but these counted as honourable tokens, and not as blemishes. And there was his cock, which was now standing to full attention in front of her, oblivious to the gawkers who were crowding the bedchamber.

  There was more laughter, and ribald jokes that alluded to the groom’s eagerness.

  “Oh, my,” one of the older ladies attending said, with a knowing laugh. “My lady Alicia, you might have been right to reject this one. He’s clearly prone to impale you mightily. I do not know if you’ll survive this night.”

  Bertran found himself scowling at the woman, knowing her ribald comment would only make things worse. His bride was already furious with him. There was no need to add fear to the fury….

  When finally, the onlookers were satisfied with the fun they had at the newlyweds’ expense, they left, allowing Bertran and his new bride their privacy. Bertran stared at his bride awkwardly, picking up his discarded robe and closing it over his nakedness. He wanted to proceed slowly. He meant to be gentle in his lovemaking and mindful of Lady Alicia’s innocence, because he knew no other way. It would be dishonourable to behave otherwise.

  He noted she made no effort to conceal her own nakedness. His cock throbbed painfully, but he restrained himself. He looked at the tray that held a pitcher of wine and goblets, and wanted to offer her some of the wine, but he recalled she’d eaten nothing.

  “So, my lady, at last we are alone,” he said artlessly.

  She gave a bitter laugh, and he noted she was still standing by the bed. Certainly, she still found it difficult to sit down on the sore bottom he’d given her. He opened his mouth to tell her the public spanking hadn’t been his wish, but the cold look in her green eyes stopped him short. There was deep disdain mirrored there. The anger he’d felt towards her those weeks ago, when he’d first read her letter, came back in full force. She had insulted his family grievously, and now she didn’t seem to show any sign of contrition, not even after the painful lesson he’d delivered. What was he ever going to do with a wife such as she? His first wife had been meek and gentle, not haughty and defiant as Lady Alicia certainly was.

  He heaved a sigh, striving to keep his temper. It was their wedding night, and he had every intention of keeping both his lust and his temper well in leash.

  He stared at her, not knowing what to tell her to make her despise him less. He was not a man of many words, and he was not schooled in flowery phrases or honeyed talk. So he simply didn’t know what to tell her.

  “Wife, I should call you wife now, my lady…” he muttered, searching his brain for something he might say to her.

  She cast him a bitter smile.

  “You can call me whatever you please, my lord. You’ve made it clear you want me for your chattel. So – here I am. Your chattel. To do with as you wish.”

  He nearly flinched at the coldness in her words. She went on in the same disdainful, mocking voice.

  “I’d lie on the bed with my legs spread for you, if I could, in order to submit as a good wife should, but since you saw fit to chastise my bottom soundly, I find myself unable to do such. I’ve seen beasts couple though, dogs and horses, and since men are not so different from beasts, I can guess the position would be right for coupling.”

  He widened his eyes at her as she went to prop her elbows on the bed, thrusting her bottom to him and offering him a perfect view, not only of her well spanked behind, but of her pink quim.

  “I reckon it is coupling you have in mind, my lord. So, here I am,” she said, in a mocking voice. “You can mount me if you wish.”

  Deep lust blazed inside him, and he barely contained his impulse of doing just as she asked, thrusting inside her roughly from behind. But there was also fierce anger mingled with lust. She was adding further insult to the ones she’d previously bestowed upon him. It was more than plain she was mocking him.

  “I see now I was wrong to spare the switch,” he found himself snarling in irritation.

  “You are within your rights to use it now,” she countered calmly, still maintaining the position that had become maddening to him.

  It was a lovely view – the red, lush bottom she was thrusting towards him, and the pink sex he craved.

  He willed himself to be calm, weighing what he should do next. She didn’t seem to fear the switch, although, he knew, if he were to fetch one and use it, he’d reduce her to sobbing in a matter of moments, as her bottom was still tender from the spanking she’d received in the Hall. Certainly, he could do s
o, but that wouldn’t change things between them. She’d resent him even more, and, at this moment, in spite of his anger with her, he found he didn’t wish her to resent him. He lusted for her, and he wanted her to welcome him inside her.

  He frowned upon her well spanked bottom. The position she’d adopted might, after all, provide a solution to his conundrum.

  “I’ve spanked you well, my lady,” he said, knowing a proud woman like her would find his words humiliating. “But maybe not well enough…” he added softly. “It’s best I test for myself if my handiwork will suffice or if you need more.”

  In spite of his earlier irritation, he had no intention of spanking her again tonight. She’d had enough, and she’d been through enough. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t use his earlier spanking to bring her where he wanted.

  Without giving her time to change position, he came behind her and gently placed his hand on her reddened behind. It was warm to the touch.

  “Nice and warm. I’ve done a thorough job of it, it seems,” he told her lightly, as he caressed her tender cheeks.

  It was at that moment she moaned. Bertran frowned. Was that a gasp of pain or a true moan of longing? It had sounded like a true moan of longing to him, but maybe his ears had deceived him. He softly caressed the crown of her reddened buttocks, and there it was again, that moan, which sounded very much like longing.

  “Just stop,” she told him in a strained voice.

  “Are you in so much pain?” Bertran asked in some concern.

  It was the first spanking he’d delivered, after all. And, in spite of his care not to use his full strength, he might have been too harsh in disciplining his new wife.

  “Nnn…Yes,” she replied.