by Sharon Green
“Let go of me, you big oaf!” she said in a near growl of her own as she was brought helplessly with him. “If you didn’t want to be kicked, you should have kept your hands to yourself. You – Oh!”
Her argument ended abruptly when she was pulled face down across Derand’s lap, but she also began to struggle harder.
“Don’t bother trying to get out of this,” Derand said dryly as he got a good grip on her.
“You were told that I’m your husband, so I have a right to do more than put a hand on your arm. I’m about to show you what some of that ‘more’ entails, a pleasant chore I expect to have to repeat over and over again. If you decide you’d like to avoid that, you can do it by behaving yourself.”
The girl snarled wordlessly as she continued to struggle, fighting to regain her feet. Derand ignored her efforts and began to raise her skirts, then he cursed silently. He’d forgotten she was wearing a riding skirt, and there was no effective way of getting it raised. The girl had gotten lucky, but only for this one time. If the situation ever recurred, he’d strip her naked before putting her over his knee.
But she was in that position right now, so there was no sense in putting off her first lesson. She voiced another “Oh!” of shocked surprise when his hand came down with the first smack, but she couldn’t have felt it too strongly through all that cloth. But she did feel it, which her renewed struggles showed.
“You’ll be getting away lucky this first time,” Derand told her as he added a second and third smack. “The next time I have to do this your bottom will be bare, and you won’t sit down for the rest of the day at least. You will learn to be a good little girl, or you’ll spend the rest of your life standing up.”
“You miserable savage, let me go!” the girl demanded, her voice filled more with desperation than command. “You’re hurting me and you have no right!”
“I have every right,” Derand countered, still smacking the rounded bottom that now squirmed with every stroke. “I’m your husband, and it’s a husband’s duty to teach his wife what she needs to know if her father didn’t. You will not get away with insulting or disobeying me, so don’t ever think you will. And I’m not hurting you, I’m punishing you. You’ll soon learn the difference.”
She snarled something under her breath and tried again to fight free, but her strength wouldn’t have been a match to his even on his worst day. He continued to bring his hand down hard on her backside, determined to leave a lasting impression, and finally succeeded. When she tried to shield her aching seat with a hand, he captured her wrist and held her arm out of the way, then went on with his chore.
The girl finally fell silent except for an occasional “Oh!” muttered under her breath or swallowed, and Derand took that for a good sign. She’d stopped trying to oppose his will with her own, showing that the first lesson had been spanked into her. That she refused to let herself cry out wasn’t quite as good, but eventually she’d surrender the stubbornness as well. Derand gave her a final five spanks, each of them hard enough to make her draw in her breath, and then he released her.
“So now you know what to expect from me,” he said as he rose to his feet. The girl stood rubbing her bottom with one hand, making no effort to look up at him. “If you behave yourself we’ll get along without a problem, but if you don’t we’ll have more sessions like this one. The choice is completely yours.”
A few minutes earlier the girl would have made some sarcastic remark to that comment, but now she just stood rubbing herself and making no effort to meet his gaze. Yes, she’d learned the lesson all right, and with less trouble than Derand had been expecting.
“You’ll join your father and me for dinner tonight, and afterward we’ll retire to your apartment,” he went on in the delightful silence. “If you try any of your tricks on your father you’ll regret it, because I’ll put you over my knee and bare-bottom paddle you right on the spot with everyone watching. I’ve decided that we’ll spend a day or two here before leaving for home, and you’ll behave as a courteous guest rather than as the ruler of the world. Have I made myself clear?”
Her nod was rather more curt than Derand would have liked, but he really had only just begun with her. In a little while she would be just as polite and well mannered as the next woman, or she would definitely be more sore.
“Good,” Derand said, letting her hear his satisfaction. “I’ll escort you to your apartment now, but I won’t be staying – and you won’t be leaving again until it’s time for dinner. And don’t make me come looking for you unless you enjoy the idea of needing to sit on a cushion. You’ll find it very embarrassing and even more uncomfortable. Let’s go.”
He waited for her to precede him, which she did without even a moment’s hesitation. As he followed after, he decided that his married life promised to be much more peaceful than anyone - including him - had expected.
Chapter 2
copyright 1999, 2002 by Sharon Green
Elissia would have stalked into her apartment, but stalking would have done nothing more than add to the outrage perpetrated by the savage. Her dignity was even more bruised than her bottom, and she would never forgive him for doing that to her, never! Though her bottom was bruised enough, a fact that Elissia had confirmed by a quick peek into a standing mirror. The skin, which should have been a creamy white, was a dull dusky red.
Her servants, being well used to her needs and wants, took one look at her mood and then disappeared. They knew without being told that she needed to be alone, and it was a good thing for them that they did. It wasn’t one of them she wanted to dismember slowly and painfully, but if they’d stayed within reach they would have paid for someone else’s mistake.
“And he will find out that what he did was a mistake, the worst of his life,” Elissia growled to herself as she lay on her stomach on her bed. She had no choice about lying like that, even though it reminded her much too much of the up-ended position the savage had put her in. He’d had the nerve to take her across his knee and spank her, striking her offered bottom again and again with a hand that felt like aged wood. At first she’d thought the time would be no more than humiliating because of the riding skirt she wore, expecting the heavy material to protect her from his brutality. But as the time passed and his hand kept striking her bottom, she discovered that the skirt was very little protection after all. He’d brought a throbbing ache to her seat that she’d never before experienced, and one she’d be certain she never experienced again.
As Elissia’s bottom throbbed she closed her eyes and lowered her cheek to the bedcover, feeling worse than she had in many years. She’d carefully closed the bedchamber door behind her, which would serve to keep her privacy intact. At least until he decided to come in. Then her privacy would be a thing of the past
“It can’t be true, it just can’t be,” she whispered to her bedcover, remembering what he’d said about their being married. She did have some vague memory of a time when her mother had given her sweets to play a game with other grownups, something her mother had never done before or since. But that couldn’t have been a marriage ceremony, not when she didn’t want to be married! Men expected their wives to obey them, and she just wasn’t built to do that. “Better dead than wed” was an old saying among certain women, and now she seemed to be finding out how true it was.
“And since he means to take me away from here, it doesn’t even matter if I end up dead,” she muttered, raising up on her elbows to stare at her hands. “If I can’t be here to help Father and Gardal, what purpose will my living have?”
None, was the only answer to that question, a bitter answer she’d been forced to accept many years earlier. Girls were useless for anything but having babies, she’d been told by the son of a guest, and even for that the girls needed men. Elissia had hit the nasty little snot and then had knocked him down, but afterward she’d looked more closely at the world and had been forced to admit that he was right.
Women of the lowest class cooked and
scrubbed, women of the wealthier class hired others to do that for them, and women of the nobility didn’t even have to do the hiring. And none of them contributed to the world in any way other than having their babies, and even for that they needed men. The thought of so empty a life had appalled Elissia, but there had been nothing she could do about it until she realized that her father and brother needed her help. She’d given that help gladly, but now a savage had come to carry her off and she’d never be allowed to be of use again.
Tears came then, the tears she’d refused to give the savage the satisfaction of seeing. He’d used his beastly strength to force her down on his lap, and then he’d beaten her until the ache in her bottom was a constant reminder of just how savage he really was. She hated that ache almost as much as she hated him, but escape didn’t seem possible. Even if she ran away and he didn’t follow, where would she go? This was her home, and all he had to do was wait until she found she was helpless in the outer world and was forced to come back.
Sobs added themselves to the tears running down her cheeks, brought about mainly by the realization that her father hadn’t even taken the trouble to warn her. It had come to her that if the savage had been lying about the marriage ceremony, he never would have announced his intention of moving into her apartment. Her father might have trouble standing up for himself against those who were stronger than he was, but he’d never hesitated in his defense of her even if it was just words he’d used.
So that meant the savage might even be right about how relieved her father would be to see her go. That was the part which hurt the most, to think that her father considered her a burden rather than useful. Had she been fooling herself to think otherwise? Would her brother hate her help as much as their father apparently did? Maybe it was a good thing that her life was almost over. She hadn’t done as much with it as she’d believed she had
The crying refused to stop, and the longer it went on the deeper Elissia plunged into depression. Even the possibility of finding some slow and painful way to kill the savage wasn’t capable of raising her spirits again, and she continued to cry until she fell asleep. In her dreams she found herself stumbling past everyone she knew or had ever met, and every single one of them, man and woman alike, turned their back to show they had no interest in knowing her. Even the savage turned his back, to make sure she understood that their marriage was political and something he’d done to please his father. No one else wanted her around, not for any reason at all.
A gentle but insistent tapping at her door brought Elissia awake, an escape from the torture of dreams into the worse horror of reality. Her bottom still throbbed some, but the news brought by one of her serving girls was far more painful.
“Please excuse the intrusion, Your Highness, but His Majesty the High King was here a short while ago,” the girl offered diffidently. “He oversaw the arrival of his belongings and their arrangement in one of the other bedchambers of your apartment, and then left word for you before he departed again. He said to remind you that the time for dinner was approaching, and you ought to be dressing. I’ve already prepared a bath”
With the depression back and even heavier than it had been, all Elissia could do was nod and walk to the bathing chamber. Every servant in the apartment seemed to be watching her with worry in their eyes, but that mattered just as little as everything else in her life now. The savage had moved into her apartment with her father’s blessing, so what further confirmation of her conclusions did she need?
Some of the girls tried to draw her into conversation while she bathed and dressed, wanting to lighten her mood the way they often did. One of the girls, noticing her darkened backside, tried to lighten Elissia’s mood by relating her own trip over her brother’s knee just the previous night, seemingly sharing it with the other girls. Two of the others, who had not noticed Elissia’s punished buttom, chimed in with stories of their own. One girl related spying on a particularly upleasant sister-in-law as she had received a punishment over her husband’s knee. The young wife had been spanked severely with a limber, polished rod, but the incident was regarded as more amusing to the women than anything else. As they spoke, Elissia’s mood only darkened. She’d been very sheltered, she realized, from the reality of women’s lives. Her own women apparently were subject to such punishments on a regular basis.
Finally, she could stand no more and snapped at them to keep their tongues within their heads. The looks of crushed shocked she received in return were tragic. Only rarely had she ever taken a bad mood out on the people who looked after her, and the time or two it had happened she’d apologized afterward. To her it was the only proper thing to do, but the servants had seemed to consider the doing something special. Those occasions had made them even closer and more loyal to her, possibly even closer than her own family.
But their company and support was something else she would soon be leaving behind, which turned her even more unresponsive. By the time she was completely dressed for dinner two of the girls were crying, but Elissia couldn’t comfort them. Comfort was a commodity gone from her world, and one which was unlikely to ever reappear.
Everyone was already in the salon outside the small dining room when Elissia got there, happily engaged in pre-dinner conversation. Her father and mother stood with two realm nobles and their wives, people who had clearly been invited so they might meet the most special guest. The savage stood with them, joining their laughter, obviously having already eased their disquiet and charmed them. The scene was nothing Elissia wanted to join, so she just stood herself to one side of the room and waited for dinner to be announced.
After a minute or so Elissia’s thoughts went wandering, taking her away from the pain of reality into the realms of fantasy. In the waking dream her brother Gardal returned unexpectedly, discovered what was being done to her, and announced his intention to oppose it. The two of them had always been close, and more than once they’d supported each other in the face of what they considered unacceptable. Despite the fact that Gardal and the savage had become friends over the years, her brother still stood up to the man and refused to let him claim her. He needed her with him, Gardal would say, and the savage, faced down by the two of them, would turn and slink back to his realm of constant warfare –
“Didn’t you hear the announcement telling us dinner is ready?” a voice suddenly said, banishing the warmth of fantasy acceptance. “I thought I’d have to go looking for you after all, but a servant said you arrived some time ago. I’m glad to see that you’re already learning to obey me, but you should have come over to join everyone else. Let’s take our places at table now.”
He offered his arm as if he were a gentleman instead of a savage, but Elissia took it without comment. It no longer mattered what he was and wasn’t, or even what she was or wasn’t. Nothing mattered, not any longer.
“You’re looking really lovely tonight,” the savage said after a moment as they followed the others into the dining room. “If you’d come over to join the rest of us, I could have bragged about the beauty of my bride. I’m probably the envy of every man in the realm now.”
Elissia let the savage’s words flow past her, pleased in a small way that they had no power to add to her pain. Beauty in a woman usually meant she was considered even more useless than the rest, and the savage had taken the opportunity to remind her of that. But there was very little difference between being mostly useless and completely so, and that made his attempt a wasted effort.
The seating arrangement in the dining room was, of course, the usual one. Her father took his place at the center of the board, with her mother and his other guests to his left. The savage, his most important guest, was seated to his right, with Elissia to the savage’s right. It was the best place to be as far as Elissia was concerned, as far away from the others and their happy conversation as it was possible to be. Her father hadn’t even tried to speak to her, an action that stated his position even more clearly than words. Her mother hadn’t said anything ei
ther, but that wasn’t surprising. Her mother was a very gentle woman who was completely incapable of handling anything involving confrontation; it would have been a surprise if she had said something.
Servants began to bring out the food, and everyone seemed to find it necessary to mention how good it was. For Elissia it might as well have been straw, since that was the way everything tasted. After trying to swallow some of it she gave up the attempt, and simply sat toying with what was on her plate. Her mind wanted her to go searching for fantasy again, but that would have been even more of a wasted effort. The real world was where she had to live, at least for a little while
Distraction claimed her for a time, and she returned to an awareness of her surroundings to discover that her almost untouched plate of food had been replaced with a dish of dessert. It was cherry cobbler, one of her favorites, but tonight she had no stomach even to look at it. But it did mean that dinner was almost over, and that was when Duke Rolan got to his feet. He and Duke Abtrean, the second of her father’s guests, had always seemed to approve of her and her efforts on behalf of the kingdom, and Elissia had usually felt pleased when the two men visited. When Rolan spoke, though, she was able to see that he and Abtrean were no different from everyone else.
“I would like to propose a toast,” Rolan announced in very jovial tones. “Let’s raise our glasses and drink to the health and happiness of the bride and groom who are finally about to begin their life together. May all the best things in life come quickly to High King Derand and his queen, Elissia.”
Happy sounds of agreement came before everyone echoed, “To High King Derand and Queen Elissia,” and then they probably drank. Elissia found no reason to look at any of them, so she didn’t.
“Thank you, one and all,” the savage said after a moment, as though he’d been waiting for someone else to speak first. “My queen and I appreciate your good wishes, and we’ll try our best to make them come true.”
