by Jane Henry
Chapter Four
Aldric
When I rise the next day, my little one—Carina, she is now called—is still fast asleep. She is tucked against my chest, and my flank is pressed up against her warm, shapely backside. I feel myself begin to harden, and close my eyes. I must be patient. Though she will learn utter obedience to my will, I wish to earn her trust as well. I have not gotten to where I am without learning self-control. It is time I exercise it.
The light is just beginning to creep through the window near Carina’s side of the bed, the light gracing her cheek. I am thankful I thought to have my servants refrain from the standard morning ritual. Normally, they’d have brought me my breakfast and helped prepare me for the day ahead. But today, my Carina and I have much to do. Though I will tread lightly in some ways, she has questions to answer. I sit up, tucking the blanket back around her, and rise.
She will begin by telling me why she is here. Freanoss is a small planet, but if she is someone of high rank, she might be sought after by her people. If it were my daughter or sister in a foreign land, I would stop at nothing to get them back if they were taken. I wonder why she comes here now, and if she was sent here by the Freanoss leaders. Though I am confident of my legal lordship over her, I wish to prepare myself for battle if need be.
I like the idea of taming this outlander. She shines above all others, her beauty ethereal, and even her audacity to defy me draws me to her. She is courageous, and when I have trained her, she will serve as a fitting queen. I wonder what she dreams of when she slumbers.
She shifts on the bed, and stretches her arms up over her head, yawning. I smile to myself. She is delightful, her little mouth opening wide as she stretches, like a little kitten waking from slumber. Her moment of peace is short-lived, though. Seconds after waking, she sits straight up in bed, snatches the blanket up over her chest, and stares at me with wide eyes. I wonder what has frightened her so.
“Stay away,” she whispers, pointing her finger at me.
Though I recognize she is afraid, my little one is not allowed to give me instructions. I frown, and though I move slowly, I approach her side with firm steps so that her eyes are riveted on me. “You may not instruct me, woman,” I say. “It is not your place to do so.”
She frowns. “Leave me alone,” she growls. Ignoring her protests, I approach her and sit by her side.
“I shall tell you one final time,” I say, with as much gentleness as I can muster. I am already prepared to spank her, but I would like to give her an opportunity to correct her behavior. “You may not instruct me. As your king, I demand respect and obedience. If you speak to me again in this manner, I will punish you.”
She looks at me as if pondering whether it is worth continuing in this vein. She frowns, her eyes roving the room. There is much I wish to learn of her. But first, she must be taught obedience. “The correct response for your transgression is ‘I’m sorry, my lord.’” I wait. Though I will be patient, she will learn to obey. I pause a beat, waiting expectantly. Did she learn nothing yesterday? Must we begin every day anew? To my shock, she pushes the blanket off herself and moves to the other side of the bed, away from me.
I stand and follow her. What is the meaning of her defiance? She is grumbling to herself, scowling. It seems my little one rises in poor spirits.
I cross the room to her in swift strides, grasping her forearm firmly. She pulls away from me, but I am prepared for her to fight, and she is no match for my strength. I easily subdue her. With one hand, I pull out the wooden chair by my desk. It is armless, and made to support a man as large as I am. I sit down quickly and yank her across my knees.
“No!” she screams, waving her arms back at me furiously, but I will not be deterred. This little one must be taught a lesson. I take her wrists and pin them to her lower back with my left hand, while with my right, I administer her first smack. Yesterday, I was lenient with her. Today, I shall not be so understanding.
With her over my lap, I have much more control over her punishment than I did before. She screams with the second blow of my hand, but I do not waver in my punishment. The sounds of my hand slapping her bare bottom resound in my chambers, intermingling with her wails.
“You barbarian!” she screams, wriggling herself partially off my lap. This will not do. With my right hand, I bring her back to my lap, lift my leg, and restrain her with my leg over hers so that she cannot escape my grasp. Now her small, bare backside is vulnerable to my correction. I lift my hand high and bring it down with purpose. She howls as her spanking continues, and to my surprise, expletives color her language. I am shocked. I have never heard a woman use such language. It is unacceptable for a woman to speak in such a way, and she will learn that lesson as well.
“You may rail against me,” I say, underscoring my words with sharp swats. “But you will not treat me disrespectfully.” The slap of my hand against her bare skin resonates in the room. She howls and writhes but cannot escape my firm grasp. It is well that she cannot. I am nowhere near done correcting her.
I administer one sharp blow after another, feeling the sting of my hand on her skin. I intentionally swat the sides of her thighs, vulnerable and tender. “You will speak to me with respect,” I insist. “You will not utter oaths unbefitting a woman in my presence.” Another sharp blow has her wailing.
“Leave me alone!” she shouts, her voice catching. “You are a savage people!”
I frown. It seems I shall have to stay the course further than I’d anticipated. Perhaps the next time my little one needs a lesson, I will help advance her education with my strap.
“Savage though we may seem, compared to you,” I say, as I keep a steady rhythm of smacks, “women in our culture know their place. They would not dare to utter words of disrespect to their masters. Those who fail to surrender to their masters face very serious consequences.”
“Masters!” she utters, gasping with each hard blow I administer. “There are no masters of the human race! We are all equal!”
I pause, my hand raised over her reddened, fiery hot backside. “Is that so?” I ask. “Though your theory is interesting, it seems at this particular moment, there is only one of us receiving correction, and one administering correction.” I deliver another pointed smack but then I sober. I dislike having to correct her, and I haven’t yet managed to convince her to submit. “And I shall continue punishing you until I’ve made my point.” I give her another slap, then another. I’ve punished women before. I’ve taught them obedience. But the punishments I’ve administered were far shorter than this, as merely incurring my displeasure has typically made the women under me repentant before correction began. This little one is far more tenacious. Though I must have her obedience, I like her spirit. I like her fire. And my body does as well.
Beneath her, my erection presses hard against her as I continue to hold her. Having to teach this little one has aroused me. I long to have her beneath me, ruled by her master, eager to obey my bidding. But before we continue, she must learn to obey. I grit my teeth, determined to persevere until I have made my point.
“Please,” she begs, while I continue to spank her. “Please stop.”
I will not stop until she has demonstrated repentance.
I pause, my hand on her fiery bottom. “I merely asked for you to speak to me respectfully,” I remind her. “Your people’s belief in equality has no bearing on your subordination to me as your master on my planet. I explained to you already that I am your king and your master, yet you do not seem to have grasped the import of my words.”
I do not wish to continue her punishment. I do wish for her obedience.
My hand still on her hot bottom, I question her. “Will you apologize for your rudeness?”
Her shoulders slump, but she does not respond. I raise my hand and bring it down with a resounding slap.
She jerks and howls. “Yes, yes! Heavens above, yes.”
Good. I pause again, my hand raised above her. “Well, then?�
�
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, her words barely coherent.
“Say again?” I ask.
“I’m sorry,” she says, but I am not sure she truly is. We do seem to be making some progress.
“Will you speak with respect to me, as your master?”
She groans out loud. I barely stifle a chuckle. Her reluctance to submit is quite fetching.
“Yes…” she pauses, and I can see what an effort it is for her to swallow her pride, “…my lord.” The word is hissed, but I hear her. I place my hand on her warmed bottom and squeeze. She bolts up, saying louder this time, “Yes, my lord! I am… sorry.” Her voice trails off at the end, a mere whisper, as if she is trying to compose herself. I wonder if she is. If she wept now I would know I had moved her, but she was trained to be strong on Freanoss. I would teach her to rely on me.
I shall not punish her further. I smooth my hand over her bottom, as red as if she’s been burnt by the summer sun. My little one will feel my correction for some time.
“Are you… going to use that salve on me?” she asks tentatively.
I chuckle. I’ve just spanked her soundly, and already she’s hoping for a reprieve from her chastisement?
“The salve I used last night is a precious commodity, and is used sparingly,” I explain. “Since you’ve defied me again, it seems I was hasty in alleviating your discomfort last night. We’ve only just begun the day. I prefer you feel your correction as the day continues.” My voice lowers. “You will obey me, Carina. I will not falter in my duty if you fail to do so.”
She simply nods her head, but does not speak. She is so small, so lovely, her curves womanly and attractive. And she is mine.
I caress her bottom. She winces at my touch. Massaging her will help prevent bruising, though as I take my little one with me about my day, I am not terribly concerned for her modesty. If others see she has been marked by me, it will reinforce to them that I am her master.
Now that her punishment is complete, I must take care of her. My little one will learn that repenting of her naughty behavior will be richly rewarded. Slowly, I caress her soft, warm skin, my large hand easing the discomfort of the spanking I’ve just given her. She lays still over my lap, the fight gone from her, allowing me to bring her comfort. Unable to restrain myself, I lower my mouth to her reddened skin, and kiss her tenderly.
“Ah, Carina,” I murmur. “You have taken your punishment and learned from your transgression.” My hand moves from the small of her back, slowly down and then back up again. A second time, my hand travels lower, over the curve of her bottom, to her sweet thighs. Her body is exquisite, and my desire for her increases. As my hand moves over her skin gently, she shivers with a low moan. Could it be that even though she’s been disciplined over my knee, she is aroused? Slowly, I move my hand lower to her inner thigh and firmly push her legs apart. She gasps, but does not protest, as I spread her legs and my large fingers gently explore her feminine folds.
“Ohhhh,” she says. “Oh, no, you… ohhhh.”
I smile to myself. I bet my little one is thankful her face is still turned away from me. Given the way she is squirming and writhing beneath my touch, it is likely her cheeks are as crimson as the bottom I’ve just punished. My breath catches as I explore her further, and find her slick with arousal. Gently, I touch her, my fingers seeking to pleasure.
“Please don’t,” she says, while even still, she is arching her body, her words asking me to stop while her body begs me not to. “You… it’s not… you cannot touch me like that,” she whispers.
Cannot? I can touch her in any way I desire, but I will listen to what she has to say.
“Why not, Carina?” I ask, moving my fingers so they are on the very tops of her inner thighs now, no longer touching her folds, gently massaging the tender skin.
She gasps, moaning, as her hips writhe over my knee. “I… it is not sanitary. It is not clean. One must never touch those parts!”
I cannot help myself. I chuckle, deep and low, the rumble of my laughter causing her to tremble on my knee.
“Do not laugh at me!” she protests.
Instinctively, I swat her backside. “Tsk, tsk,” I chide. “You will learn how to speak to your master, Carina. Perhaps we shall continue our day with you across my knee. Shall I call my servants to come and feed you, while you are still in such a position? I can situate you with a pillow and chair so that you are more comfortable, while I leave your pretty little backside bared over my lap, ready for correction when you decide to be disrespectful.” I give her a firm squeeze to emphasize my point.
She squeals and wriggles. “Oh, no! Please, no,” she says, pleading now. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I will try to do better.”
“Very good,” I say, eyeing once again her tempting folds. “Now where were we?”
“I was trying to explain to you that you cannot touch me the way you… were,” she falters.
Burying a smile, grateful she cannot see, I stroke one finger through her core. “You mean, like this?” I tease.
“Ohhh… no, no!” she says.
I stop. “Tell me again why not? You are mine to do with as I will. And it seems this is far more enjoyable for you than a spanking, is it not?”
She squirms again. “On Freanoss we know that touching one another in such a way is a base, unclean thing to do. Unhygienic.”
Unclean? I question the very sanity of her people. I have a basic knowledge of the Freanossian ways, and I’m aware they do not couple, but the reasons behind such customs are enigmatic to me.
“I care not for what your people think, Carina. Now shall we continue this discussion over my lap, or would you like to be let up?”
She sighs. “Please let me up.”
I am happy to do so, especially since she’s now lost the biting edge and is attempting to be respectful. I lift her up and swing her legs around, so that she is now sitting on my lap. She holds herself stiff and upright, apart from me, but that will not do.
“Come here, little one,” I say. I pull her close to me, so that her head lies now upon my chest. After a stern chastisement, it is my duty to comfort her. “Your people’s ways are not my ways,” I say. “I will listen to what you say, and consider what you wish. But I shall do what I feel is right. As my property, I may touch you when and how I wish.”
She tenses in my arms. I lower my voice to her ear to whisper, “Carina. Though I may touch what belongs to me, you will enjoy this.”
She shakes her head, trying to move her head away from me. “No,” she says. “It is wrong, and vile, the basest humiliation.”
I take her inane assertion as a challenge.
“Do you mean to tell me,” I say, “that within a civilized planet like yours, a full-grown woman, as lovely as you are, has never been pleasured by a man?”
“Pleasured?” she asks, her head still upon my chest. “If by that you mean defiled, certainly not. I am an upstanding citizen. We do not give in to such base actions.”
This puzzles me. I have heard rumors that the Freanossians have scientific methods to populate their race, but the thought of removing the intimate act of coupling is shocking to me. At the same time, I am thrilled. Upon my knee sits a woman who now belongs to me, and she is wholly unblemished, a virgin. She is mine to teach, correct, and pleasure. Before long, she will be begging for my touch.
“The ways of your people are mysterious. And I care not for them. You will be pleasured, be it hygienic or not.”
She turns to face me, her eyes wide. “You would take me against my will?”
I smile. “No, Carina. I will not. I will have no need.”
I will feed and clothe her, then we will pay a visit to Isidor, the ancient sage, keeper of great wisdom. I will need wisdom in conquering this little one.
Chapter Five
Carina
If I could trust myself to sleep, I would wish to return to slumber, but the sleep I have just wakened from is nothing like what I am
accustomed to. It was not rested. My dreams were vivid and disturbing. I dreamt of the savage who slept by my side, and in my dreams, he did vile things to me. He touched me with his hands and his tongue. I shudder at the memory. He teased me and pleasured me, and when I woke I was near frenzied with… something. I know not what it is that my body longs for. Without my regimented nightly supplement, my body has begun to do strange things to me.
I welcomed sleep on Freanoss. When I slept, the worries of the world ceased. I slept dreamlessly, restfully, and woke refreshed and renewed. Today, I woke teeming with foreign feelings. I feel the swelling of my breasts, and pulsing between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together, desperate to stop the longing. I have been taught that impulses are untrustworthy. Before the New Dawn, people died from coupling. I do not wish to partake in such barbaric acts. But the savage has other plans, including, apparently, beating me into submission.
He places one of his large fingers under my chin and lifts my eyes to his. “We have much to do today, Carina. I have many questions for you, and you must answer. But first, it is time you were prepared for the day, and well fed.”
I am still sitting upon his knee, and I wish to get up. Beneath my sore bottom, I feel the strength of his legs, and his muscular, powerful thighs. Up against my chest, I feel him, hardened and muscled. His arms around me are formidable. Even his voice and stature are commanding. Yesterday, I could see him as the savage that he was, and I could think clearly. Today, my body yearns to be touched by him. The desire within me is growing stronger, threatening to make me lose my mind. I wonder if he somehow enchanted my sleep.
When I woke, I was furious at the unfamiliar thoughts and feelings that took possession of my body. I allowed my fear to dictate my actions. I regret having earned further chastisement according to his barbaric custom. I shall cooperate with him now, as I keep my head about me.
