by Jane Henry
“Be quiet, Carina. Think of your obedience to me. Prepare yourself to submit.” I grasp the rim of her ear with my teeth and nip lightly, then flick my tongue against the place where I nipped. She shivers. “You taste delectable,” I whisper. “I mean to eat my fill of you. But first… you must obey.” I reach my hand to her hair, wrap my fingers around it, and pull, lifting her head while I whisper in her ear, “Will you obey me, sweetness?”
Her eyes are closed, her breathing labored. She swallows, trying to nod but it’s difficult while I am holding her like this.
“Yes, my lord,” she pants. “I will obey.”
I release her hair, smoothing my hand along the dark, satiny tresses. “Very good,” I say, rising. “Do not move or speak until I give you leave, except to respond to my commands. Do you heed me, Carina?”
She nods once.
I rise and fetch the bell, giving it a sharp shake of my hand. Carina’s eyes fly open. She does not wish to be seen like this, splayed upon my desk, her body on full display.
I go to the door, prepared to answer it. When I hear a familiar knock, I speak loudly. “Bring us breakfast,” I order, my eyes on Carina, as my servants hasten to obey. She sighs, relieved that I have not opened the door. I go to her wardrobe and remove the sky-blue tunic I wish for her to wear today, placing it on the edge of my bed as I go to her.
“Come here,” I say sharply. She rises, turns, and walks to me, her eyes focused on mine. I like that sometimes she casts her eyes down, but sometimes she challenges me like this. It is her fire, her conviction, the will of iron that draws me to her. I will train her, but I will not break her.
“Our food will arrive momentarily,” I explain to her, as I remove her tunic and replace it with the clean one. “Come with me.” I take her by the hand and lead her to the other side of the room, apart from the entryway door, to a corner hidden away from the entrance. I point to the corner. “Kneel,” I instruct. “Clasp your hands behind your back and focus your eyes on the wall in front of you. Do not move. You must maintain that position until I call you. Do you understand?”
She eyes the corner tentatively and frowns, but nods. I lead her, pointing to where she is to kneel. She obeys. I can feel her will resisting mine, the thread of iron in her backbone as she faces the wall. She has not disobeyed or contradicted. She has done as I ask. I kneel behind her, my arms holding her so that I can cup both her breasts in my hands. I knead them gently, playing with her hardened nipples. She closes her eyes and little mews of pleasure escape her lips before a knock comes at the door. I lean over to her ear, my breath a low whisper. “Stay.”
I rise and go fetch the silver tray from Lystava, who inclines her head. “Shall I return to help ready your lady?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Not today,” I say. She nods and takes her leave.
I take my time bringing the food to the table, eyeing Carina. She has obeyed me, still kneeling obediently. “Good girl,” I praise. “You may come here now, please.”
She rises and comes to me, eyeing the tray of food. Will she remember that she does not eat unless I give her leave? I pull out a chair for her to sit, and she folds herself into it gracefully. I lean down and kiss the top of her head, compelled to do so by her utter beauty, her obedience so attractive to me.
“Good girl,” I say. “Keep your hands in your lap.” She obeys, but the look about her is not compliance. She is frowning.
I have a few choices with how I am to respond to her. I could put her back in the corner until she has rid herself of her temper. I could punish her, but I’d prefer to refrain from disciplining her unless I have good reason to do so. Or, I could find out what it is that has her so out of sorts.
I take a bite of the slices of ripe peach on the platter, before I nod to her, allowing her to take her own food. She scowls deeper and reluctantly takes a piece of cheese.
“Talk to me, Carina,” I order, sipping my cup of scalding hot tea.
“About what?” she says, her lips pursed tightly as she scowls at the cheese in her hand, but does not eat it.
I place my mug down and push my chair away. “Come here. Now.”
Her eyes widen, as she’s just realized I am not pleased with her behavior. I can see the apprehension in them. Has she earned discipline? What will I require of her next? I wait patiently until she comes to me. She rises and slowly drags her feet to me. I stand her between my legs and take her hands.
“Why the ill temper?” I ask.
She blinks, apparently surprised by the question.
“My lord?”
“You are frowning. You are obeying me by the mere letter, and your heart is uneasy. Why? Are you troubled by what you’ve discovered about Freanoss?”
She looks puzzled for a moment. I do not speak, allowing her the space to formulate her thoughts. “I am,” she says honestly. “But I do not wish to be ignorant. I would rather know the truth and accept it, than be misled.”
I nod. I like that about her. “Go on. There is more.”
Her lips are so tight they are nearly white. “My body. It infuriates me. Despite what I try to will it to do, it will respond to your commands and barbaric mannerisms. I hate it. I cannot kneel in the corner without my pulse throbbing between my legs, and I do not enjoy the loss of control. I don’t like how it growls for food. I don’t like that it is beginning to grow hair.” She makes a grimace, pausing, her voice lowering as her eyes look down as well. “And I… hate that you’ve brought me to the edge of ecstasy and just left me there. It’s frustrating.”
I barely stifle a chuckle. Perhaps denying her pleasure is more effective discipline than I initially thought.
“Is that right?” I ask, releasing her hands and lifting my fingers to her nipples, already pebbled and hardened beneath the light blue fabric of her tunic. She gasps, her eyes closing, her head rolling back as I fondle her breasts. “You dislike how your body responds, do you?” I say, my voice dropping as I draw her onto my lap, pulling her against my crotch, then lifting her legs so she straddles me, facing me. “You don’t like how your body betrays you?” I now whisper, lifting the edge of her tunic as my mouth goes to her breast, my tongue biting her nipple as I glide my thumb along her sex.
“My lord,” she says, her voice a near sob as her hands encircle me. I flick my tongue against her nipple and pump my finger inside her, spreading her juices along her nub, the tempo of my strokes increasing as I feel her body tensing, prepared to orgasm, so ready for the release.
“Do not,” I whisper in her ear. “Not until I give you leave.” I pause, my hand steadying on her sex, holding her right on the cusp. “You will obey me, and when you do, I will reward you. Do you wish to be rewarded, Carina?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes,” she moans, wriggling her hips against my hand. “Please.”
I take my hands off her and stand her in front of me. “Then you do as you’re told. Behave yourself, and I will reward you.” I nod to her chair. “And you know what happens if you misbehave.” She stares at me, agape, as if she cannot believe I have left her on the cusp of ecstasy yet again. I am unrepentant. Training her to obey me will be ultimately for her own good.
“Go,” I order sternly, pointing to her chair. She purses her lips and frowns, sitting forcefully upon the seat. She is acting like a petulant child, and crosses her arms on her chest. I raise an eyebrow but she looks away from me, picks up her cheese, and takes a large, angry bite. She lifts her drink and glares at me as she sips.
I barely stifle a chuckle. My instinct was quite correct. I let her off too easily last night, and this morning, she is practically begging me to discipline her. Perhaps she needs to feel my correction more often than I surmised.
I take a sip of my tea and watch her. I understand it’s difficult for her to adjust to the ways of Avalere. I doubt that she dislikes it here. She has only just arrived. What she is not familiar with is the complete loss of control. On Freanoss, all she knew was control—her body, her mind, and her
environment were all regimented, denying her the very real human experiences she was created for. Here, it is the exact opposite.
I hear a knock on the door. She looks at me sharply as I rise. “Sit and eat,” I order. “No more of the cheese without the fruit. It is too rich to be eaten in large quantities, and it will make you sick.” I raise a stern brow to her as I go to the door. When I open the door, it is Arman. I step into the hallway, leaving Carina for a moment while I speak to him.
His dark brow is drawn, his eyes troubled. “My lord, we have received further communication from Freanoss. Though they’ve given up complete interest in your woman, they are moving to complicate things. They have no access to your castle, but have means of communication in various public places.”
I nod, encouraging him to continue. He clears his throat, and averts his eyes before speaking. I frown.
“It might be best for me to appear in public with your Carina… dressed as you, made to look like you, so the communication devices detect me as the king, if our decoy plan is to take root.”
He wants to escort my woman? My eyes haze with fury, but before I can respond, he holds up a hand.
“My lord, please,” he begs. “Please listen to reason.”
We discuss things a bit more, then I give him leave to go. When I return to my chamber, my mind is focused on what Arman has told me, and it takes me a minute to realize what I see. Carina, completely contrary to my orders, has finished the food on the platter. But more—she now lies in the bed, curled up on her side, her eyes closed tightly as her hand works between her legs. Anger clouds my vision. How dare she? She has deliberately disobeyed not one, but two direct commands from me.
“Is that how it is to be, then?” I ask, my voice deadly calm as I hold my temper in check. She needs a good whipping for what she’s done. That she would defy me so boldly indicates that my suspicion is right. I have been far too lenient on her. I regret having been so.
When she hears my voice, she freezes, but only for a moment as her eyes focus on mine. She stares into my eyes willfully, unrepentant for what she’s done. Slowly, she drags her fingertip along her slit, her breath beginning to come in shallow gasps. She is on the brink of orgasm, prepared to bring herself over the edge. I feel my cock harden, painfully thick, as I watch her pleasure herself. It is the darkest, most erotic thing I have ever seen. I wish to take my own cock in my hand and pump myself to ecstasy while watching her please herself. I can already imagine her groan of pleasure, the flush of her cheeks as she writhes on the bed. But no. I have a duty to perform.
“Stop.” My voice is loud and harsh. Her hand freezes between her legs, her eyes still willfully trained on mine. I cross the room to her and lift her up from the bed. She must be punished.
I place her to standing on the floor in front of me. “What did I tell you would happen if you disobeyed me?” I ask, chucking a finger under her chin, not harshly, but enough that she quickly raises her eyes to mine.
She frowns. “You’d punish me.”
I nodded. “Did you eat food I asked you not to?” Her eyes wander, but I bring them back to me with a tug of her chin.
“Yes!” she says defiantly, her eyes boring into mine.
My instincts were right. She needs to be disciplined. Perhaps she is craving my discipline. I know not her reasoning, but there is one thing I know beyond doubt. Today, I will not slacken from my duty. Today, I am not finished with her until she is submitted to me in all possible ways.
* * *
She stands in front of me, her chin lifted defiantly, as my hands go to my waist, and I unfasten my leather sword belt. For a moment, panic flickers in her eyes as she looks down, then back up, widened eyes betraying a shadow of fear. She thinks I am going to strap her, but no. Not now. I have another purpose.
I take her wrists in one of my hands, grasping them together as I fasten my belt snugly. When she realizes what I am doing, she glares at me and stomps her foot, her eyes flashing. She can rant and rave if she wishes. It is time she learns who is her master.
I take her by the hair, and pull firmly, not enough to hurt but just enough to get her attention. “You will answer for your defiance, my Carina,” I say, my anger barely tempered as I speak.
There is much simmering beneath her surface. Her waters run deep, her emotions high, and it troubles me to see her like this. I have been mistaken thinking leniency and gentleness would help her make peace with her circumstances. She needs more from me.
I turn her around, pushing her down on the bed so her bound hands are stretched out in front of her. She tenses immediately, expecting perhaps that I will begin punishing her like this. I am simply placing her there so that it is harder for her to escape as I go to her room, seeking the tool I need. I glance around her chamber until I see it, a stream of sunlight hitting the wooden handle of her hand-crafted brush, making it gleam. Perfect. I lift it, and walk quickly back to Carina, who is still splayed out on the bed. Good. I am not sure where she would go, but I do not wish to fight her further than I need to.
I stride quickly back to the room, and her head lifts, her eyes flitting to the solid wooden hairbrush in my hand. I grab the back of my chair and sit, my knees apart. I lay the brush across my lap. “Come here,” I say in a low growl.
She turns her head to the side and glares at me, but does not move. Frowning, I rise, brush in hand, and walk quickly to her, placing my hand on her lower back. Without warning, I lift the brush and bring it down in one solid whack across her backside. She screams, not expecting the fire of pain for her disobedience.
“What was that?” she says breathlessly, turning to look at me. “What did you do to me?”
I apply the brush a second time, a hard smack that reddens her beautiful skin. “I said come to me,” I repeat, going back to my seat and sitting. “Now come.”
She rises, frowning, and turns to me. Her cheeks are red, her lips pursed, as she drags her feet. I watch her as she approaches. I have a duty to perform, and I must not let anything—not my temper, nor my arousal, nor my desire to make her happy—get in the way of what needs to be done. When she is only a foot away from me, I point to the floor. “Kneel.”
Her lips twist in a grimace, her eyes heated pools of fury as she eyes me. I give her no choice; grabbing the end of the leather belt, I tug and she stumbles toward me, falling straight into my arms. I lower her to the floor in a kneeling position. “Good girl,” I say with mock praise. Now that she is kneeling, her hands in my lap by default—not choice—I place my hand under her chin and grip firmly. “Look in my eyes, Carina,” I order. She tries to pull her chin away, but I hold firm. Utterly defiant, she squeezes her eyes shut, her lips pursed in fury. I release her chin, grasp her hair, and pull. Her eyes open in surprise.
“Look at me.”
I gaze in her eyes, now damp with tears. There is fear in her look, but more, so much more—hurt, anger, and a dark, deep arousal.
I nod. I have seen what I need to. I lift her up from kneeling, pull her to the side, then drag her across my lap, quickly yanking up her tunic and baring her. “You have defied me, and you will answer for defiance every time,” I say, the flat part of the brush flush against her naked skin as I talk to her. She now realizes what she is going to face, and begins to squirm on my lap as I speak to her. I anchor her firmly with my hand around her waist. “It is my duty to see to your pleasure. My duty to see to your needs.” I lift the brush and bring it down with a solid whack against her bare skin. “My duty to see to your training.” She screams from the pain, but I ignore her, administering three more solid smacks, one after the other. The bite of the brush is keen, and she fights me, but she cannot escape. I easily trap her legs with mine as I continue to spank her, pausing several seconds before each biting snap of the brush.
Whack! She howls and twists, but I hold fast. She will feel the sting of this punishment for days to come, and given her level of defiance, I will likely be sure to renew the sting regularly.
&nb
sp; “You will obey me, Carina,” I say, with another hard whack. She howls in protest. I wait for her to settle, raise my hand, and administer another firm swat, the solid flat of the brush smacking her bare skin. This time when I pause, I feel her tension begin to ease a bit. I smooth the varnished wood across her hot, reddened skin, as I speak to her. “Failure to obey me will always be met with punishment,” I say, the brush gliding over her punished bottom. I lift the brush and bring it down again, snapping it against her. I hear a soft sob escape. I’m getting through to her. I’m breaking down her defenses and she is beginning to accept her punishment.
I turn the brush so that the handle is now between her legs, slowly prying her legs apart. “Open,” I growl.
She obeys. Her honey is glistening on her folds and on the sides of her legs. Though I’ve no doubt she does indeed experience pain when I spank her like this—my discipline is meant to deter her defiant behavior, after all—she has been aroused. Slowly, I dip the cylindrical handle of the brush, varnished and smooth, between her folds.
“Ohhhh, oh no, please, my lord, you can’t mean to—ohhh!”
Her embarrassment and protests wane as I pump the handle in her wet pussy, easily sliding it in and out. I remove it, tracing her juices across her inner thighs.
