by Renee Rose
Renaissance Discipline
By
Renee Rose
©2016 by Blushing Books® and Renee Rose
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Blushing Books®,
a subsidiary of
ABCD Graphics and Design
977 Seminole Trail #233
Charlottesville, VA 22901
The trademark Blushing Books®
is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Rose, Renee
Renaissance Discipline
EBook ISBN: 978-1-68259-593-0
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Table of Contents:
Loving Lucia
Courting Celia
About the Author
EBook Offer
Blushing Books Newsletter
Blushing Books
Loving Lucia
Renaissance Discipline Part One
By
Renee Rose
©2012, 2016 by Blushing Books® and Renee Rose
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Blushing Books®,
a subsidiary of
ABCD Graphics and Design
977 Seminole Trail #233
Charlottesville, VA 22901
The trademark Blushing Books®
is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Rose, Renee
Loving Lucia
eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-762-5
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Chapter One
Italy, 1482
Offering a daughter for marriage sounded much like hawking a horse at market. Marco sat back and listened to Don Edoardo's presentation with a healthy dose of skepticism. Beauty and obedience had already been promised. So far, not enough to tempt him.
"She knows every aspect of wine-making—she's been by my side since she was just a tot, and she's smart as a whip. With her help, you'll be producing the finest wines in just a few years."
Ah. The best argument saved for last. Don Edoardo knew just how to intrigue him.
The older man waved his hand for their wine goblets to be refilled. Marco watched him with a critical eye. Like all nouveau-riche, he was invested in raising himself socially. Marrying one of his daughters to Marco would do just that. As the Count of Parma, Marco's title would elevate Don Edoardo by relation. And he was offering a hefty dowry, nearly 450 florins. But the real clincher was his daughter's experience with wine-making.
"I can't believe you'd want the competition, Don Edoardo," he said drily.
Edoardo dismissed that with a wave of his ringed fingers. "I can't produce enough to satisfy the demand. There's room for other wine-makers in Italy."
Marco sighed. He really hadn't wanted a wife. Being a widower suited him just fine. But he was sorely tempted. And the girl was beautiful—he'd seen her when he was admitted. She had long, wavy red hair and big brown eyes. Her features were delicate, but she looked healthy and strong.
"You have two daughters, correct?"
"Yes, my lord—twins. The daughter I am offering to you is Lucia. She is the more...practical of the two. My other daughter, Celia, is in Florence right now with her aunt."
He wondered what that meant, exactly. "Is it true what they say about redheads?"
"What's that, my lord?"
"They are willful and stubborn."
He appreciated that Don Edoardo seemed to consider his answer. "Yes. I believe that's true. But you'll find she takes correction well."
Not spoiled then, that was good. He swirled a sip of wine around his mouth to savor the full flavor. Don Edoardo had brought out one of his best—full-bodied and aged at least twenty years.
The truth was he could use the gold. He'd sunk all his capital into converting his land to vineyards and had yet to reap any profit from it. "May I meet her?"
Don Edoardo beamed at him. "Yes, of course, my lord." The jeweled hand beckoned to a servant.
The girl in question appeared shortly, and he stood for introductions. She curtsied prettily when he bowed over her hand. She had poise—she did not appear uncomfortable, nor did she blush or look like she wanted to giggle. He liked that about her. Mayhap she would be different than his first wife; after all, Edoardo said Lucia was eighteen, and his first wife had been only fifteen when they were wed.
"Would you permit us a walk in the garden?"
"Be my guest." Don Eduardo smiled magnanimously.
Marco offered his arm to the pretty girl and started off down the path to the garden. It was springtime, and the garden was just beginning to bloom—cascades of flowering vines spilling over every trellis and wall, pockets of herbs and flowers packed between the paths.
The young lady stole surreptitious glances at him from under her lashes.
"Do you know why your father asked me here, Lucia?"
"Yes, my lord."
"And what is your opinion on the matter?"
Surprise flitted across her face, but she quickly smoothed her face and lowered her eyes. Then she looked at him sidelong and flashed a dimpled grin that was astonishing in the way it lit up her face. "Verily, my lord, I am quite relieved now that I've met you."
"How so?"
"Well, I feared a doddering old man. And now that I find you're neither doddering, nor old, nor fat, nor bald..." She beamed a smile at him, and he couldn't help but laugh.
"And if I had been?"
She smoothed her face over again, the moment for conspiratorial confidences passing. "I would honor my father's wishes."
Damn it all, he couldn't help but like her. There was no denying she was everything her father had promised. He saw intelligence, wit and good humor. She was also graceful, poised and perfectly mannered. Yes, Don Edoardo had made him an offer he simply could not refuse. Mayhap he could marry her, install her at his villa and still manage to maintain the lifestyle he'd grown accustomed to in the ten years since his first wife's death.
* * *
Lucia paced the length of her chamber, twisting her fingers together. The count would arrive soon to consummate the marriage. She drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to slow her heartrate.
The count had disappointed her father by denying him the grand wedding he had imagined. Her new husband had refused to return at a later date, and insisted they be married before the magistrate that very day. The only concession her father had won was that they would stay for a banquet on the morrow. So her father had set the villa on end today in preparation for it.
For her part, the biggest disappointment was her sister Celia's absence, as she would not have the chance to say goodbye to her. But her sister was in Florence with their aunt, attempt
ing to entice a marriage of her own.
She paced about in nothing but a robe, with her hair brushed and spilling over her shoulders. There was nothing more to do but wait for her new husband to join her. She wasn't afraid. Not really. But she did have a case of the nerves. These were moments when she wished her mother was still alive to help her prepare. Fortunately, the serving wenches in the kitchen had explained everything to her. So she was as prepared as a virgin could be on her wedding night. Or so she hoped.
The door opened, and she sucked in her breath. The count really was a handsome man. Tall and hale, with dark curly hair and a square jaw, he had warm brown eyes that observed her with an unnerving attention. She had a feeling not much escaped his notice. He had a gruffness about him that made her cautious, but she was sure that over time, she'd learn how to appease him.
He said nothing, but sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots, then took off his shirt. The sight of the sculpted muscles of his chest and arms, the broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist sent a flush of heat through her body.
"Come here, Lucia."
She walked to him, her gaze fluttering up to his face. She allowed her hips their natural sway, hoping she looked alluring. When she reached him, she let her robe fall open and knelt down at his feet, placing her hand on the bulge between his legs. It jumped under her hand. Following the instructions from the serving wenches, she freed his length from his pants. It was long and hard, which she knew to mean he was aroused by her. She hesitated just a little before she leaned forward and put her mouth awkwardly over the tip of it. He made a low growling sound and shuddered.
Careful not to touch him too much with her teeth, she took him a little farther into her mouth and then slid him out, then repeated the action. A salty tang pricked her tongue. She tried folding her lips over her teeth, and slid him in and out of her mouth that way, her lips making a tight sheath around his girth. From the way he jerked and groaned, it seemed to please him.
But before she could get much farther with this new activity, he stopped her, putting a hand on her head and pulling out.
"Have you done this before, Lucia?" he asked in a strange, strangled voice.
Was he questioning her virtue? "Certainly not!" She surged to her feet, flushing with anger.
Nothing would be more disgraceful than to have her new husband challenge her innocence. Her father would throw her out, and his own reputation would be ruined along with hers. Was the count playing some kind of game with her father and his money?
"I am the maid my father promised!" She glared at him. "How dare you suggest otherwise?" Because she was afraid, and that made her angry, she drew back her hand and slapped his face.
His eyebrows slammed down, and he trapped both her wrists in one large hand. He pulled her in to stand between his knees. "You will not strike me. Ever. Take off your robe." He released her hands so she could comply.
She spluttered, still ready to defend her questioned virtue, but when she met his determined stare, she shut her mouth. He regarded her with a face made of stone. Reluctantly, she lowered the robe, first over one shoulder, then the other, letting it fall to her feet. Though wretchedly exposed, she made no move to cover herself, his look pinning her in place.
He took hold of her wrist again and tugged her upper body down beside him on the bed, bending her over his knee with her bottom upturned.
She went rigid, realizing his intention. He started to paddle her with the flat of his hand, and she choked on her own breath. As the sting of the slaps sank in, her indignation returned. She kicked her legs and tried to wriggle free. The count threw his free leg over her legs, scissoring them between his strong limbs. With a hand tightly around her low back, he effectively pinned her, and the fire he lit upon her backside was enough that she was starting to feel afraid, even though he used no implement but his hand.
Slap after slap landed on her poor backside, mostly concentrated on the lower part, so the pain of repetition compounded her distress. She started to lose her composure. But she refused to plead and beg—she had been in the right.
He continued punishing the tender flesh of her backside. Maybe striking him had been a mistake... As his hand smacked her naked flesh, coming down in the exact same spot over and over again, she gave up on being stubborn or even stoic.
"Please," she whimpered. "Please...please. Please stop."
His hand stilled, but to her embarrassment, he continued to hold her over his lap that way, her bottom bared and presented to him, his hand resting on her blazing cheeks. Her entire body trembled and worse, she knew he felt it.
"Lucia."
She didn't answer.
"I realize I gave offense. It was not intended, and I apologize. But even so, you will treat me with respect. Do you understand?"
She hadn't expected an apology. "Yes, my lord," she mumbled.
"Good girl." He patted her sore bottom. Lifting her up, he sat her on his knee. Her chin quivered and her eyes burned, but she was determined not to cry. She still felt angry, but she was not foolish enough to give him any challenge. She carefully kept her eyes lowered on the hands in her lap.
"So...who was it who instructed you on that particular....method?"
"What?" It took her a moment to remember what had happened before the mortification of her spanking. "Oh....the serving wenches in the kitchens explained how I should...do it."
"I see," he said slowly. He looked as if he were gathering his thoughts. "I confess I was just a trifle surprised because it's an act more commonly performed by...well, puttanas, rather than one's lady wife."
Lucia clapped her hand over her mouth in horror and felt her face grow hot with shame. She'd been betrayed by those wenches. Oh, how they must be laughing at her expense right now! She burst into tears. She had just dishonored herself horribly in front of her new husband. What would her father think of her if he heard?
The count's arm tightened around her waist, and he squeezed her in closer to him. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
"Shh, bambina. Shh. I was shocked, but that does not mean I am not extraordinarily pleased to have a wife who is willing to do such things for me." His voice was coaxing now.
She peeked out from her hands at him. He gazed at her kindly. She tried to discern whether he was having more of a laugh at her expense.
"In truth. Really—I am delighted. Thank you for attempting to pleasure me that way."
A fresh flush crept to her cheeks. A new heat—one between her legs, joined that of her buttocks.
The count gave her another squeeze. "We've really started off on the wrong foot, haven't we? Shall we begin again and pretend none of this happened?"
She sniffed and nodded. She was grateful for his attempt to help her recover her pride, because truly, she was completely demoralized. All her life, she'd been raised with the idea of making a good marriage, being an honorable wife and making her husband's life easier. And here she had just disgraced herself sexually and been spanked all in the first hour of being alone with her new husband.
He met her eyes as his hand came up slowly to stroke the curve of her breast, his thumb rubbing the tip of her nipple until it stood erect. She trembled as he leaned forward and took it into his mouth, sucking until she felt an answering tug between her legs. She moaned softly. His hands roamed her body, warm and sure, traveling up and down along her bare skin, creating electricity everywhere they touched.
He picked her up and laid her back on the bed, pulling off his trousers before he climbed over her. "Since you were so generous with me, I shall return the favor." He lowered his head between her legs, bending her knees up and sliding his hands under her to cup her still-burning cheeks. He licked into her.
She gasped and jerked her hips, trying to move away from the intensity of his tongue on her sex, but his hands held her firmly in place, despite her wriggling. She moaned louder, then clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed of the sounds she was making.
&n
bsp; The count lifted his head. "Uncover your mouth," he said softly. "I like to hear your song."
She let her head fall back and moaned in earnest, rolling her head from side to side as the tension within her built until she was sure she couldn't stand it anymore. Then it came—like a summer storm that rolls across the countryside—a thunder roaring in her ears, electric energy firing between her legs and waves of pleasure rippling through her body, making her arch and squeeze her thighs tightly together, trapping her poor husband's head.
He extricated himself, laughing. "That's it, bambina. That's it." He crawled up over her, and she opened her eyes and looked at him in wonder. He smiled, his lips glossy with her juices. He pressed the tip of his length between her legs and they locked eyes. He rubbed it along her swollen slit, re-activating every nerve ending. Her bottom still pulsed and tingled from his spanking, which for some reason, only made her more excited at the sensations between her legs.
He applied pressure at her entrance, until he'd breached the resisting flesh and fully entered her tight sheath. She sucked in her breath at the stab of pain and clung tightly to his arms, but he held her eyes and remained motionless, watching until she relaxed and let out her breath.
He rocked his hips and moved inside her, ever so slowly, never releasing her from the intensity of his gaze.
The pleasure mixed with the pain so she couldn't tell if she wanted it to stop or go on. But desire grew until she forgot all about the pain, lifting her hips to meet his, making soft grunts as he moved deeper within her. His rhythm quickened, and with it, her excitement. She wrapped her legs tightly around his back when the pressure built to intense need. She found another shuddering release.
The count cried out and stiffened, pulling out and spilling his seed onto the bed. He lowered his head and kissed her, a rather passionate kiss, not that she had any experience with kisses. His tongue licked into her lips, teasing them open. She twined her arms around his neck and followed his lead, thinking how odd it was that the kiss came after the consummation. But everything about the night had been odd, hadn't it?
