by Dinah McLeod
“I need to hear you say it, love.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“Yes, sir, I understand.”
James gave her a warm smile and she could not resist smiling back in return. “How far you have come in such a short time together, Delia. I am proud of you. Now, come here, poppet.”
She stood and glided toward him.
He took her in between his knees and took her hands in his. “Tell me what possessed you to be untruthful with me.”
Though his eyes were still warm, sternness had crept into his voice. Her heart began to flutter—she had been on board with him long enough to know the signs of when she was in trouble. “I... the men on board... they seem frightened of you.”
The admiral considered her thoughtfully. “I suppose that is true, to an extent. Any man in charge must maintain a healthy fear from his crew, Delia. That is simply how leadership works. If not for that fear, which leads to respect, things could get out of hand very quickly. You understand that, don’t you?”
She thought about what he had said. She also thought of how her father had interacted with the servants when she had been growing up. He could be quite the bully, yelling and blustering about. Did the staff respect him? She did not think so. But they lived in fear of one of his rages, which often led to one or two of them being summarily dismissed without much cause. Then she thought of how the men she had met onboard had interacted with James. Now that she considered his words, she realized that she had not seen anyone shrink back in fear. They had been courteous, respectful, yes, but no one had seemed afraid.
So why would Barnabee tell such tales?
“What is troubling you, my dear?” James reached up and brushed his fingers over one of her curls. “I am happy to discuss anything you wish, you have only to ask.”
She hesitated, but only for a moment. She must know the truth. If things were as she had been told, she would have to put an end to this courtship between them, no matter how he made her heart flutter. “When you caned me...”
“Yes?”
“You said that... that the other men... that they would be subject to...” Her cheeks warmed. It seemed terribly common to speak about such things.
“That I punish them when they have earned it.”
“Yes.”
“And so? That is what is troubling you? Most men can be led by a captain that has a reputation for keeping order, as I do. But there are always a few that need to test the limits themselves. It does not happen often.” He spoke of it as though there were nothing more natural in the world.
“But... if it does,” she began, unsure of exactly what she wanted to ask or how to do it. “If it does, how do you... what do you... what I mean to say is...” She blushed hotter at her own inability to put a proper sentence together.
“How do I do it?”
She nodded, grateful for his ability to know what she was trying to say.
“Similar to what you experienced, my lady.”
“Not... on the bare?” She shuddered at the thought.
“No, of course not. That is something I reserve for my wife.”
As the words registered, a gasp escaped her lips. “Surely you are not serious? Not with the cane?”
“With the cane, the tawse, or the paddle, as the situation merits,” he replied. He certainly looked serious.
She gave a little shudder.
“But you have nothing to fear, so long as you obey.”
Delia’s eyes widened as she spluttered at him. “Me? But you said...”
“Yes, you,” he laughed. “Or do you not wish to be my wife?”
“But... I... we hardly know each other,” she protested, weak with the shock of it all, and perhaps desire, too.
“Is that not often the way of things?” he reasoned. “And yet, I feel I know you well enough to know that we could make each other very happy. If you are willing. If not, then you have only to say so and I will not trouble you on the matter again. But—” He reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand. “I cannot be wrong to think that you feel something for me, too.”
“Yes.” Her answer was nothing more than a breathy whisper.
He smiled and it lit his face, making him even more handsome. “Then we are very lucky to have found each other. It is not always so in marriage, you know.”
Oh, that she did. She knew all too well.
“Will you accept my proposal, Delia? Will you consent to be my wife?”
“Yes!” The word burst from her, passionate and eager. All of her fears vanished, replaced by excitement. Barnabee could not be right. Perhaps the admiral was often stern, when he had to be. But it was no more than that. She was sure of it.
James’s brow creased slightly. “I would prefer to get your father’s blessing, but I suppose in this case it is not possible...”
Delia’s heart skipped nervously. “No. I am afraid not.”
“Very well then. It is good enough for me that you have consented.” He took her hand and bent his head over to place a kiss there.
Her heart somersaulted in her chest and her belly tightened in yearning.
“It is a pity to have to ruin such a tender moment.” He sighed.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“We have the matter of your punishment, my dear.”
Her mouth dried at once. “What? I do not know what—”
“You lied to me, beloved. Remember? And we spoke of always being truthful with one another.”
Relief washed over her. “Yes, of course I remember. And if I had known, I would not have done it. Surely you will not punish me for something we have never discussed.”
James tutted at her. “You do not know better than to lie? I know you spoke of a tumultuous home situation, but surely your mother taught you that much?”
She felt a new tightening in the pit of her belly. It was unmistakably dread. For if this was how seriously he took a small, teensy lie, what would he say when he discovered that her presence aboard his ship was an enormous fabrication?
“Delia? I asked you a question.”
She forced herself to speak through trembling lips. “Y-yes. Of course. And I am sorry for not being truthful... it will never happen again, if only you give me another chance.” She closed her eyes, feeling awful to be lying to him right in that very moment. For if they married, their entire life together would be built on a falsehood.
James shook his head. “When you earn a bottom smacking, you will always get it, my love. That is part of what it means to be a good husband, and I intend to be that.”
Delia nodded, resigned. She deserved it and she knew it, even if her reasoning differed from his own.
“Over my knee now, poppet.”
She bent over, tensing as he lifted her skirts. But when he reached for her pantaloons, she froze. “What are you doing?”
“I am baring your bottom.”
She gripped his knee tighter. “But... James.” She uttered a nervous laugh. “I have not been that bad, surely.”
“I will remind you that I am in charge here and decide how you are chastised.” His voice was warm and seductive.
“Yes, I know, but...” She could not bring herself to say that it was for her enjoyment. A proper lady would never enjoy such a thing, much less acknowledge it aloud.
“When we are married, I will always give your bottom smackings on the bare, Delia. You might as well get used to it now.”
“Surely you will love me better when I am your wife.” She pouted.
“Oh, darling, bottom smacking is one of the best ways to love you. You will see that one day, I daresay. In the meantime, lie still and take your punishment like a good girl.”
She did try. Truly she did. But from the moment that his hand landed on her upturned bottom she was squealing. She sorely missed her pantaloons from the very first smack.
“Ow! Please, James! Please, stop it! Stooopp!”
“It is ‘sir’ when you are getting your naughty bottom spanked,”
he said, delivering a walloping smack with each word. “Furthermore, I shall stop when I am certain you have learned your lesson and not a single moment before.”
“But I have!” she protested, the last word coming out a squeal. “I swear it! I shall never be naughty again!” She drummed her toes against the floor in protest to his measured, blistering smacks.
“Have you now? I had no idea my wife-to-be was such a fast learner.” His hand never let up for so much as a syllable. “In that case, you have only to remind me why you are getting your hindquarters so soundly smacked.”
Delia’s entire body reverberated with each smack, and it took her a moment to register his question. The pain in her bottom was becoming such that her eyes were prickling as she tried not to cry. “Ah... because... I...”
“Tsk, tsk. It is as I thought.” He delivered a sound spank to each of her sit-spots in turn.
“It’s not fair!” she wailed. “How am I supposed to think with you... hitting me... nonstop?”
“You should not have to think about why your bottom is getting smacked, Delia. You should know.”
But she did not. She knew she should, knew that the thought was there, hovering just at the surface but every time she got close to remembering he would deliver a bottom-flattening scorcher and all thoughts would vanish, save ow and that hurts!
“I can remind you,” he offered, still whaling away at her poor, rapidly heating rear.
“Yes, please,” she said as the first of the tears began to fall.
“Very well. You are being punished for lying to me. When I ask you if something is wrong, you are to be truthful to me. You are to always be honest, from this moment forward. Any straying from this will lead to more smacked bottoms in the future. Is that understood?” Each word was punctuated with a hard spank without missing a beat. He only paused to wait for an answer to his question.
If Delia had not known him so well, she would have pretended to think it over so that her poor posterior might have respite, but she feared it would lead to him starting anew. “Yes, sir! I understand, sir, I swear it! Please, please have mercy on me. I know better now!”
“Be sure that you remember this lesson well, Delia. And if I have to remind you why you’re being chastised in the future, it will add extras to your punishment.”
She whimpered over his lap. The idea that it could hurt worse than this was hard to imagine! It felt like her skin had caught flame and there was nothing she could do to put it out. She had to suffer the blistering smacks until he said she had had enough and that thought, knowing that she was powerless over his lap, made the tears begin to flow down her cheeks. Once she had started, she gave into the sobs and the quivers.
I deserve this, and so much more, she thought, crying harder. If he knew... if he knew the truth, he would never marry me.
But what was she to do? How could she tell him that she had lied, and for this long?
All begging on her part stopped. Delia resigned herself to taking whatever he decided she needed, knowing it was only the tip of the iceberg. And something magical happened—as he spanked, making her sob in true contrition, she began to feel something lighten inside of her. All the heaviness she had carried, all the worry and the doubt, began to dissipate.
James must have sensed that something had changed, because he stopped the spanking, rubbing her back and gently shushing until her cries softened. When he let her up his expression had gentled, too. “Are you going to be a good girl from now on, poppet?”
“Y-yes, s-sir. I p-pr-promise.” She sniffled.
He hugged her to him tightly, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Very good. Should there be a next time—and there better not be a next time—I shall have to wash your mouth out with soap.”
She grimaced at the thought, knowing that if he ever discovered her other lie, the biggest lie she had ever told, she would be eating soap for a week. Either that, or he would change his mind about her altogether.
I will have to be truthful from here on out, she decided. I shall. I love him.
Delia snuggled closer and enjoyed the feeling of his arms around her, listening to the rhythmic, comforting sound of his beating heart.
“I cannot wait until we are in Baasing,” he told her. “Shall we go to your family after we marry?”
She looked up at him, shaking her head. “You will be my family now.”
It must have been the right answer, for his entire face lit with a smile. “I love the sound of that. It would not be proper for you to spend the night here with me... but perhaps you would consent...”
Not needing to hear the rest, she lifted her face to his, kissing him. His lips were soft and pliable and his desire for her was plain. The next moment, his fingers were in her hair and her hands were on his chest.
They did not speak—not with something as common as words. Instead, when they broke apart it was only a look exchanged between them, a nod from Delia, and James picked her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down gently, stroking the side of her face with his hand.
You are certain? his eyes seemed to say.
Oh, yes. She felt the answer in every line of her body, especially the heat in her legs that rivaled that of her bottom.
The admiral began to undress her, slowly untying the laces of her dress, seeming to enjoy drawing out the process and heightening her desire.
Delia was not sure what to do, but her hands seemed to move with a mind of their own. She locked eyes with him and put a hand on his belt buckle. His nod was all the encouragement she needed and she began to undo the buckle. Once his belt was free, she stood, pushing his trousers down.
Before she could do anything more he took her by the arms and pushed her to sit once more. Then his hands were sliding her dress down to reveal her corset. Her bosom heaved as her breathing quickened. James trailed a finger along the tops of her breasts, eliciting a gasp from her parted lips.
That was when she saw it. His manhood, long and hard. Not feeling anywhere near as shy as she had their first time, she reached for his shaft.
James did not stop her. When her hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock, he groaned. She searched his face, trying to make sure it was alright. When she saw the hunger in his eyes, she smiled and began to run her hand up and down the length of his shaft.
“You temptress,” he growled, breaking the silence.
“Does it feel good?” she could not resist asking, embarrassed by the insecurity she heard in her voice.
“It feels incredible,” he murmured. “But it will feel even better inside you.”
Her eyes widened in wonder. “Now?”
“Unless you would rather...”
She was shaking her head before he even finished the sentence. “No. I am ready.”
“You are sure?”
Brazenly, she lifted her skirts and spread her legs. “Here,” she invited. “See for yourself.”
Just as she had hoped, he slid a finger into her dripping pussy. He swished it around, making her juices pool and begin to slide down her thigh. Then, to her utter astonishment, he bent his head and lapped up the trail it had left.
He licked his lips. “You taste better than I had hoped.”
Passion pounded like a pulse between her legs and she took his manhood in her hand once more, marveling at how it had hardened further. Knowing how wonderful it would feel, she felt wanton with desire for him to be inside her.
As though she had spoken aloud, he climbed onto the bed, straddling her. “I will be gentle, darling.”
“Oh, I wish you would not,” she surprised them both by replying.
His eyes glinted with amusement. “You are a naughty one, aren’t you?”
“So naughty.”
“Well, that makes me quite a lucky man.” And without another word, he pushed her legs further apart and was inside her in a single, powerful thrust.
Delia cried out from the sheer pleasure of it. She felt no pain, only joy that he was inside her, fil
ling her until they were one.
“Did I hurt you?” he murmured tenderly.
“No. Please, James, make love to me.”
Smiling, he began to move inside her, thrusting slowly with care.
She reached up for him, wrapping her arms around his neck as they moved together. “Faster?” she begged.
“Are you sure?”
Her only answer was to kiss him. He kissed her back, until she felt dizzy with the ecstasy of what was happening. Her entire body was tingling—every nerve was alive with wondrous sensation. She had never known it could feel like this. It would never have with the old man her parents had attempted to foist her off on.
The thought was so preposterous it made her giggle.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, love,” she reassured him.
“Careful, my lady. It is foolish to laugh at your lover.”
“Is it?” She smiled cheekily at him.
“It seems I shall be giving you yet another lesson tonight.” With that, he began to move quicker inside of her, in and out, while she threw her head back and gasped, squeezing her thighs tightly against him.
“Move with me, Delia.”
She tightened her grip on his neck, one hand straying to his back. Gripping the fabric of his shirt, she raised her hips, meeting his thrusts. It was more pleasure than she had thought possible. She wanted it to go on forever, but nearly as soon as she had thought it, her body began tightening with pending release.
“I do not want to come,” she murmured.
“Why ever not, love?”
Hearing him call her by the endearment made her belly flip. “I do not wish it to end.”
“Oh, sweet Delia.” He stroked her face. “We will have hundreds more.”
“Thousands more,” she vowed ardently.
“Then I shall be a happy husband indeed.” He quickened his thrusts even more, pumping into her with the passion that had infected them both. He grunted his pleasure as her moans filled the air.
Delia wanted to hold on. She wanted to savor this moment, to memorize the feel of him so that she could have it in her heart forever. But all too soon she felt the rush of warmth filling her from head to toe. She smacked a hand to her mouth, biting the back of her hand so that her cries would not be heard.
