Under the Lash

by Carolyn Faulkner

  He visited her like clockwork once a day, for a somewhat stiffly polite tea, and that was the extent of his interaction with her. But he’d never missed an opportunity to catch a glimpse of her once she began venturing out of her room, and he made sure that she had everything she needed or wanted, gleaning that information from long conversations with Lysette, whom he had come to adore almost as much as his uncle did.

  And almost as much as he had come to adore Cassie, although he was prepared never to let her see it. He felt unworthy around her, and it was a feeling he was completely unfamiliar with. He wasn’t at all sure what he should say to her or do with her – beyond what his baser instincts continued to demand he do, every second of every day. But he had – thus far – refused to assert his husbandly rights, nor had he taken up the firm disciplinary stance he had maintained with her on the ship, using her illness as an excuse to avoid both intimate behaviors.

  Yet every night, alone in his room, his body tortured him in his dreams with thoughts of what he wanted to do to and with her, so much so that he rarely slept well any more, and his temper was much the worse for it.

  His uncle thought he was crazy to have so much guilt about what he had done, especially since, in the older man’s eyes, he had made full restitution by marrying her, and she was now his to do with as he pleased – short of taking his fists to her, of course. But Anjel wasn’t at all sure that that bill would ever be paid in full, and he was having a difficult time picturing himself as a husband to her, considering what had already transpired between them.

  His uncle knew of his predilections; they had been discussing the subject since Anjel had become a man, since it was Gregorio’s bent, also. And that was another count on which he couldn’t understand his nephew’s thinking: Cassie was his wife. He was supposed to keep her in check, and provide the necessary motivation for good behavior. Gregorio was of a mind that wives needed consistent discipline, even if they hadn’t put a foot wrong. He confided that he spanked Lysette at least once a week, even if she hadn’t done anything he considered worthy of a spanking. He believed that knowing there would always be a spanking coming regularly reduced the number of individual disciplinary sessions she earned during the week, because she knew she was going to be paddled good and hard even if she behaved perfectly, and didn’t want to add to it.

  Suddenly, though, Anjel could stand it no longer, and reached out to take Cassie’s hand. He kept the length of his strides short in deference to her condition, but, damn and blast, if she was healthy enough to ride, then she was healthy enough to learn to obey her husband when he told her not to ride. He didn’t give a tinker’s damn what the doctor said.

  Although she pulled and tugged as discreetly as she could, Cassie quickly discovered that she could not reclaim her hand from his. She even tried to just slip out of her riding glove, but that hadn’t worked either; he merely grabbed a hold of her elbow instead. She began to suspect that even an out and out tantrum wouldn’t do it. If she knew him – and she did, unfortunately – if she tried to throw herself on the ground screaming like a child, he would simply lean down, pick her up and throw her over his shoulder, without so much as missing a step, too, she’d bet.

  Not that she was going to humiliate herself by doing anything so childish, whatever the provocation. He had to let go of her sometime, didn’t he?

  But she would have done better remembering just how crafty he could be. Anjel had an idea that her complacency would evaporate the moment they were in her room, so as soon as they were behind that closed door, he lifted her into his arms, strode to her vanity to pick up the beautiful mahogany hairbrush he’d seen there when he’d visited her early on in her convalescence, and brought it with them to the edge of her bed, where he sat down and draped her over his thighs in exactly the position in which he wanted her.

  Cassie, of course, immediately attempted to get up, but found herself more than amply pinned down by the simple act of him putting his left arm – with uncomfortable familiarity – across the small of her back, curving his fingers around her hip to add even more stability to his hold and discourage other routes of escape.

  Her skirts were unceremoniously lifted onto her back, then quickly tamped down by his arm again, and after he’d divested her of her under things, one big tree trunk leg found its way over the both of hers, easily waylaying any kicking she might have thought she was going to do.

  And he didn’t wait to see how she was going to react to all of this, either. He would, of course, keep an eye on her for any concerns involving her recent illness, but he didn’t think that there would be any since she claimed to be so fully recovered. Anjel started right in with the flat of his hand first, lecturing her in much the same manner as he had aboard ship, finding that – even though their roles had changed somewhat – the tone and cadence were much the same.

  “I think that I have been much more than patient in waiting for you to feel better before I expected you to assume the role of my wife, but that, my dear, is at an end. Your end, as you might have guessed.” Her brush was bigger than the one he had used on her before and heavier, and it made quite an impact when he switched to it – not that his hand hadn’t already. Their rooms were in a wing of the house that his uncle never used, and there was absolutely no possibility that anyone would overhear them.

  Luckily for Cassie, because he didn’t intend to skimp on his husbandly duties any longer, and he was rapidly decided that he liked the idea of using her own hairbrush on her. He was thinking that it might well become her weekly punishment implement, but he wasn’t quite sure yet whether he was willing to commit to that. More research needed to be done before the best selection was made. And he intended to do a lot of very thorough research.

  “When I tell you that I don’t think you should be doing something – like horseback riding, or eating so many bon bons –” Her mother had brought her a large box of confections back from town, and she had quite overindulged in them, setting herself back a day or two with a terrible stomach ache, “then I expect you will obey me, just as I expected you to obey me when we were at sea. And the consequences will be the same if you decide not to. You’re going to be sitting very carefully whenever you disobey me, Cassie, I can promise you that, and I’m going to take a page from my uncle’s book and tell you that you’re going to get a spanking just like this – or maybe more so – once a week on Saturday nights, just before bedtime.”

  Cassie wasn’t just moaning and crying – she was howling, because of the unyielding wooden implement that was tearing up her bottom but also in frustration from having him lay down the law to her so emphatically. At least when they had been on his ship, she had had a chance at escaping the implementation of his brand of strict discipline. But now she was married to him, and the law agreed that he could do pretty much anything he wanted to her.

  There was nowhere to run away to – her mother and stepfather would return her immediately right back to her husband, as would any of the townspeople, and she had less than no interest in setting sail again under any circumstances. She was well and truly trapped, with a man who thoroughly enjoyed taking her to task for the least possible reason.

  Anjel didn’t let up until he could see that she had surrendered totally to him. That took a while and he understood why. He could hear the anger in her cries, and knew how frustrated she felt. But he intended to be the authority in his marriage, and he wanted absolutely no doubt in her mind about that. So he continued to bring the back of that hairbrush down on her cringing backside until he thought she had learned the first of what he was sure was going to be a multitude of very important lessons during the course of their marriage.

  Once he had finished, he did as was his habit and kept the brush easily accessible, in case the miscreant decided to rebel later on, and then he followed his instincts and undressed her down to her milky white skin, noting that she no longer had even so much as a bandage over the wound on her side. He had been right; she was going to have a scar, but B
ones was a skilled surgeon, and he had done a very good sewing job on her, despite how rough it looked now. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it could have been, and he had to admit he considered it a badge of honor.

  His beautiful wife was still sobbing, not really paying much attention to what he was doing, but she stopped when she realized that he had pressed his mouth over her wound.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in a watery tone, surprised and curious at his actions.

  Anjel settled himself on top of her, insinuating himself between her legs and nuzzling his way up to her neck. “I was trying to kiss it better. I tried it the night you were shot, too, but it didn’t help much, I’m sorry to say.”

  That he had even tried had her heart melting towards him. It was insisting on doing that no matter how often her mind brought up all of the injustices he had done to her. It didn’t help that her mother kept listing all of his positive attributes, and any good thing she had heard he had done for her while she was sick, so much so that she wanted to scream at her mother to shut up about Anjel, but she didn’t.

  She was horrified to realize that she didn’t because she wanted to know everything about him that she could. She had taken to talking to her new stepfather about him whenever he visited her, which was more frequently, she was unhappy to say, than her husband did, by far. She had long since apologized for the bratty attitude she had had towards him at first, and had now completely changed her thinking about him, partly because she could see just how happy her mother was. Gregorio was only too happy to regale his lovely stepdaughter with tales of Anjel’s misspent youth as she recovered, and even now they had a standing date for breakfast in the morning, as the two of them were early risers, unlike their spouses.

  Finally, Anjel cupped her face with his hands, saying in a low, serious tone, “I know you wouldn’t have married me if you’d known it was happening, Cassie. But it really was the best course of action. What if you had been pregnant?”

  Cassie nodded with what Anjel regarded as depressing reluctance. “I understand, and I appreciate that you did so.” When she said it out loud, she realized that she meant it. “A lot of men wouldn’t have, regardless of whom you discovered me to be.”

  “I will always regret how badly I treated you when we first met, Cassie, but, if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, I promise.”

  She snorted. “And you call taking me over your lap like you just did making it up to me?”

  He had the grace to flush. “Well, I am your husband, and I do expect you to obey me. I can’t think that you’re surprised by that notion.”

  Caught by a sudden, impish notion, she said, “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

  Her terrible imitation of a seaman had him issuing a giggle that was entirely too high pitched for a man of his size, and the thought of it coming from him had her laughing, too. “You should really salute when you say that, you know, but I’d much prefer it if you’d kiss me.”

  She looked pleasantly surprised, and did as he asked. Not a short peck, either, which he had been prepared to chide her about, but a full blown lovers’ kiss. When she finally drew her lips away from his, he was darned near incoherent. “I think I love you,” he confessed, only half in jest.

  Cassie wrapped her arms around him. “I think I could learn to love you, as long as I was able to sweep all of the implements and potential implements out of the house.”

  He held his hand up in front of her, saying softly, “This is all the implement I need, Cassie.”

  She frowned, but he startled her out of it with a request. “Say my name.”

  “What?”

  “Say my name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it, and it’s not too much to ask, is it?”

  “Anjel,” she said, giving it the correct Spanish pronunciation.

  “Again, my Cassie,” he commanded, but ruined it by covering her lips with his, his hands busily exploring the places he knew she loved to be touched the most.

  “Anjel.” A little higher now, and much more breathless.

  “Again . . .”

  The End

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  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 advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.