But does he?
The officiant asks Eli, “And do you take Charlotte to be your wife?”
Turning to Eli, I await his answer, my breath caught in my throat. He can choose. He can call this off, walk away, erasing everything that happened between us over the past day.
Instead, he takes my hands in his, his gaze caressing my face. He says, “I do.”
My heart soars. A grateful laughter bubbles in my throat. He’s chosen me.
We exchange vows, and he slips a gold band on my finger, Charlie hands me a matching, thicker ring.
As I slide it onto his finger, I worry he’s reconsidering.
But the look in Eli’s eyes tells me otherwise. He holds my hands in his and whispers, “Trust me.”
Now everyone is holding candles and the mood has become somber. Rockland has taken the place of the officiant. He looks down at me with a hard gaze and says, “It is time you pledge your life to the Bachman family. Once you have done this, the only release from your vow is death. Do you understand?”
His words creep over me, making prickles attack my skin. My mouth feels dry, my throat tight. I swallow down my fears and declare, “I understand.”
Eli slips a red leather box from his pocket, the words Bachman’s Jewelers swirled across the top in gold lettering. He gives me a reassuring smile, opening the lid of the box, revealing a beautiful pendant of a sword, black jewels sparkling within its gold outline. He steps behind me, slipping the necklace around me and clasping it.
My fingers go to the charm, fingering the beautiful piece. It has a weight to it that I wouldn’t have expected just by looking at it.
Rockland speaks with reverence. “The sword is a symbol of our creed, the way we live our lives, the care and protection of a man for a woman. The sword signifies your place in the hierarchy underneath Eli’s protection—the length he is willing to go to, the sacrifice he would willingly make. He will offer you his protection and care the remainder of his life.”
Only a few minutes into our marriage, and he’s already proved the length he will go, the sacrifice he would make.
Now Eli has a wife he wasn’t planning on. One who will be forever in his debt.
How will I ever make it up to him?
Chapter Seven
Eli
Only forty-eight hours into our marriage and already I’m tasked with taming my wild wife. I made it very clear that until she knows the layout of the Village better, she is not to be wandering around alone. So why did Nick just call me to report he spotted her picking wildflowers at the meadow—the farthest reach of our property?
I pull up to the field, throwing the gear of my SUV into park. My eyes scan the grasses until I find her. The sight of Charlotte makes my breath catch, my chest well. She’s in her yellow sundress, her curls blowing behind her in the wind, a bouquet of colorful flowers in her hand.
She looks like an angel.
One that’s about to have a pretty red bottom.
Stepping out of the vehicle, I slam the door, announcing my arrival.
She looks over her shoulder, spots me, and waves.
Raising my hand in the air, I beckon her with the crook of my finger. Seeing the displeasure on my face, her smile clouds. She comes running.
When she reaches me, she’s out of breath. Holding her flowers up as an excuse, she says in between gasps, “I... was... just picking some... flowers for our table. Aren’t they pretty?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise one brow to her. “Very pretty. But are they worth the punishment you’re about to receive?”
A deeper flush rises in her cheeks, already pink from running. “I-I’ve only been out here a little while. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“What did Daddy say about wandering the Village, young lady?” I ask.
She looks down at the ground, her voice soft as she says, “You said to stay home unless I was with you or Emily.”
“Then what are you doing out here?” I ask.
“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have wandered but I just set out on a little walk. Then I got a bit further, and further. Then I spotted these gorgeous flowers and I just had to pick some.”
Her smile is so sweet I feel it deep down inside my chest. But that changes nothing.
I say, “You directly disobeyed me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she whispers.
“Intention is irrelevant. Take down your panties. Now,” I demand.
“What? Here?” she squeaks.
“Yes.”
Her eyes widen in horror. She studies my face to see if I’m serious.
I am.
“But someone could see,” she whimpers.
I say, “You should have thought of that before you disobeyed me. I’m not a daddy to delay a punishment and you need to learn to do as I say. Right here. Right now.”
She holds her flowers tighter, as if they can magically transport her out of this mess.
They can’t.
I say, “Do it now, or I’ll have you walking home holding up your skirt so everyone can see your pretty, punished bottom.”
She drops the flowers to the ground, her hands darting up her short, billowy skirt. She wriggles her hips, bringing a pair of white panties down to her feet. She steps out of them, handing them to me with big, trusting eyes.
“Good girl.” I take the panties from her hand, tucking them into my pocket. There’s a short, wide rock beside me, rising from the ground like a bench. I sit down and say, “Now put yourself over Daddy’s lap.”
She gives me one last pleading look. Seeing I’m not going to budge, she obeys.
A car drives by slowly, most likely taking in the sight of my disobedient wife as she climbs over my thighs.
A whine rises in her throat. “Oh, this is so embarrassing! Everyone will know.”
“Know what?” I ask, lifting her skirt and exposing her creamy bottom.
She cries, “Know I’m being spanked! Right out in plain sight.”
I give her bare ass a hearty slap. “No, they’ll know that you were naughty and your daddy cares enough to correct you right away. To keep you safe.” I give her bottom another spank.
“But Daddy, I hear another car coming.”
I spank her again, her generous curves quivering from the impact. “If you don’t like your bottom being bared in public, then don’t break my rules.”
Another car rolls by. I know from the angle I hold her body no one else can see what I see, but they will see enough to know this; I’m a strict husband. One who does not allow his wife to disobey him without facing harsh consequences.
She’s giving little sobbing gasps. Not from pain, but shame. I spank her right cheek, her left cheek, making matching prints on each side. “Tell me the rule you broke.”
“I-I wandered around the Village alone before you told me I could.”
I repeat the pattern, harder. Right, left, right, left. “And why did Daddy make that rule?”
“To keep me safe,” she sniffs.
“That’s right. And what’s happening now that you broke my rules?”
She lets out a wail. “I’m being spanked! In public!”
Bringing my hand down, I cover every inch of her pretty bottom. My spanks are a mix of hard and soft, making a warm rosy glow spread over her curves. She cries as I spank her and though her tears make a tugging in my chest, I’m thorough in my discipline.
She’ll not forget this punishment the next time she’s tempted to do as she wants.
When her bottom is red and hot and she’s given up, lying limp over my lap, sobbing, I reposition her skirts over her. “Come here, baby girl.”
I pull her up onto my lap.
Her arms go around my neck and she rests her damp cheek on my chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that.”
Rubbing her back, I kiss her forehead. “Be a good girl and don’t make Daddy have to spank you in public again.”
As I hold her, she clings to me in
a way that makes me feel stronger, prouder. She trusts me, adores me. Making my heart swell.
I’m not one to hold grudges, or waste my days wondering what if. Accepting my fate and making the best of what the world dishes out to me has always been a strength of mine. My marriage to Charlotte is no different. I’ve made a vow to her; to give my life to protect her. I’ve made another vow to myself; I will do my best to care for her and be a good husband, and one day, I know I’ll love her in the way she deserves.
Regardless of how we came to be married, she is my wife. It’s my job to protect her. Once she became a part of the Bachman family, she’s safe from the Brotherhood, but with her impulsive, risky ways, she’s not yet safe from herself.
I run my hand over her curls, smoothing them away from her face. “You know how much I care about you, little wife?”
She looks at me, her eyes sparkling with tears. She nods eagerly.
Leaning down, I press my lips against her perfect pout. The kiss fills me, making me feel whole, as if I was missing something all these years and didn’t even know it until I married this naughty, sweet baby girl.
I think of how everyone back in our small town will burst with the gossip of our marriage. I have to keep her away from any and all non-Bachman friends and family until I’m sure she’s taken our vow of secrecy to heart. That, after a few glasses of celebratory wine, she won’t accidentally spill the beans to her aunt Betty that she was married as a captive prisoner.
I’ll need to keep her close by my side. Teach her the ways of the Bachmans. Train her to obey my words.
I take her home, bringing her flowers with us.
A few days later, I know it’s time I call her father. She’s assured him by text message that she’s okay and that she just got caught up on a long visit with an old friend in the city.
It’s time for him to hear the truth. At least, as much of the truth as I’m able to share. Charlotte’s downstairs cooking. I take the opportunity to go to my office and call Tom. He picks up on the second ring.
After exchanging pleasantries, I say, “I wanted to tell you that Charlotte is safe—but she’s in the Village.”
His worried voice trembles. “We thought she was staying with a friend in the city.”
I say, “She’s here. With me.”
He asks, “But how? Why?”
I have to keep this as vague as possible, while still easing his worries as much as I can. “There’s been some... unforeseen events.”
He lowers his voice, nervously whispering, “Oh, no! What’s she done? Please tell me she’s okay?”
“Charlotte is safe and healthy and happy. Everything is fine. Well, better than fine. Mr. Greene, I’ve called to tell you that you’re actually speaking with your son-in-law.”
There’s a moment of quiet as he thinks over what I’ve said. “Son-in-law? Eli? You mean you and Charlotte are married? I knew she’s held a candle for you for all these years, but I had no idea you felt the same.”
I hope those feelings grow. “Charlotte’s a lovely girl.”
His tone is pleading. “When can we see her? Her mother will be beside herself that she’s missed the wedding. We’ll have to organize a celebration here in town, a little after the fact—”
I stop his rambling. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be wise. As I said, there were some unforeseen, unfortunate events that led up to the wedding. For now, it would be best to just let things cool off. Tell everyone Charlotte and I have eloped, that we married in secret and are taking a long trip together, a honeymoon of sorts. We will make our visits when we get back.”
He asks, “How long is this imaginary trip supposed to be for?”
“Six months.” Maybe more depending on how tamed my impulsive wife is by then.
Tom is a man who knows it’s best to not ask too many questions. I know he’s too wise to push back on the timeline I’ve established. There’s a moment of silence before his voice comes through again. “Just between us, you’ll be staying in New York for now, not going to the Hamlet or the Parrish?”
I want to assure him she’s not far, without directly informing him. “I cannot confirm or deny. But she’ll be breakfasting on the best bagels in the world.”
“I understand. Thank you.” He lets out a relieved chuckle, knowing it’s New York bagels I speak of. Our families used to take turns one Saturday a month driving to the city and bringing them back for brunch.
“You’re welcome.”
Hesitantly, he says, “Eli—one thing before you go?”
“Yes, sir?” I ask.
“Take good care of my little girl.”
There’s a weight to his words. “I will. Like she was my own.”
My proclamation doesn’t stop my dirty mind from thinking of Charlotte over my lap this morning, her legs spread as I fingered her as she called out, “Oh, Daddy!”
We hang up and I sit back in my chair, relieved that he’s read between the lines. Tom is sensible and he knows what the Bachmans are capable of. He won’t try any hero rescue moves. And he knows Charlotte’s with me, which means she’s in very, very good hands.
She’s my little girl now.
Her father informed, I trust he’ll take care of telling my family of my elopement—they don’t ask much about my life since I’ve joined the Bachmans, but I know my mother will be thrilled beyond measure to hear I’ve finally settled down.
My next order of business? Making sure I can trust my little wife.
The only way to be sure she’ll obey my word—and therefore stay safe—is to teach her to be submissive. Still willful and bratty and my naughty little girl when she wants to be, but when it comes to the big things, the ones that count, I demand her total obedience.
And there’s no better way to remind a Beauty of this than a plug in her ass.
I’m sitting at my desk and I open the drawer on the right. From it I pull the little silver butt plug I’ve picked out just for my wife. I slip it into my pocket along with the lube I’ve purchased.
I intend to finish up a few things before I go find my little wife. Papers to sign, bills to pay, nothing too pressing. As I’m going through my files, I smell smoke. “What the hell?”
Charlotte.
The thought of her in danger pierces my heart in a way I’m not prepared for. “Married for only a week and already she’s my first thought.”
I rush from my office, flying down the flight of stairs to the first-floor kitchen. The room is hazy, smoke billowing from the oven. I open the door to find a charred dish that vaguely resembles what was once a chicken. I toss the pan in the sink, turning on the cold water, and turn off the oven.
The alarm starts to go off and I rush to open the folding back doors that lead to the garden, letting in a rush of fresh air. I grab a kitchen towel, waving in front of the alarm to clear it from smoke.
Charlotte comes running into the room, her skirt swishing around her knees, her hands over her mouth in surprise. “Oh, dear! I’ve burned dinner!” Tears are brimming in her eyes.
Satisfied I’ve got the situation under control, I toss my towel on the counter and go to her, taking her in my arms. “It’s fine. I’ve taken it out of the oven.”
Snuggling against my chest, she sniffs, “But I wanted to cook you something special to celebrate our one-week anniversary.”
Her body feels so good in mine, my arms around her like a protective cocoon. I kiss the top of her head. “We’ll order takeout.”
She wails, “But what if I never learn to cook?”
She’s so sweet, so cute I want to laugh. “We live in one of the cities with the most restaurants per capita. I don’t think we’ll starve.”
She sniffs. “I just want to be a good wife to you.”
“You are. You’re thoughtful and attentive. Just a little impulsive. I still worry you’ll do something to put yourself in danger. But I have a solution for that.”
She looks up at me, her brow furrowed. “What is it?”
; “Teach you to obey me by giving you a reminder you can feel.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said.” Leaning down, I place a soft, warning kiss on her lips. I pull away only far enough to breathe the words, “And your training begins now.”
She tugs away in fear, staring at me with wide, wild eyes. “Eli, I know you gave up your life to save mine, but I don’t like the sound of what you propose.”
I slide my hand around the back of her neck, yanking her toward me for a harsher, punishing kiss. She moans beneath me, wanting to draw away but instead melting under my touch. I kiss her till she’s soft again, no longer fighting me.
Then I whisper, “Sweetheart, I believe I’ve told you not to call me Eli. It’s highly inappropriate for a young lady in your powerless position.”
Beneath my lips she whispers, “Yes, Daddy,” her breath tickling my flesh.
My cock hardens, thinking of my naughty girl over my lap, her bottom bared to me. “I’m tired of having to remind you. It looks like I’ll have to give you a spanking to burn it into your memory. Won’t I?”
She shakes her head, pulling away. “No, Daddy. I’ll remember now, I promise.”
I pull a barstool out from the counter to the center of the room and take a seat. “Too late. Now put yourself over my lap like a good girl.”
She looks at me, horrified. Frozen in place, unable to obey my bidding.
Which is exactly the thing she must learn to do. I pat my thigh. “Now, or I’ll take my belt to your bare ass.”
Looking to the left and right, as if to escape, finally, she scurries over to me, though every bone in her body wants to run. She hesitates, hovering by my side, no doubt hoping I’ll grow tired of waiting and haul her over my knee myself. I grab her chin, holding her gaze. “Don’t ever keep Daddy waiting.”
“Yes, sir.” She quickly puts herself over my knee, her skirt riding up exposing the backs of her thighs.
I command, “Pull down your panties.”
Her head flies over her shoulder, horrified. “Oh, I couldn’t! Don’t make me!”
The desperate look on her adorable face makes blood rush through my groin. “Do as Daddy says.”
Daddy Page 8
