Rival Desires (Properly Spanked Legacy 1)

But no, that would be bad form. He was punishing her for a reason, and he had to take care to do it right. He had to hold her just so, enough to support her, but not restrain her in a frightening way. He had to temper each spank to a specific degree, for if he spanked her too hard, her arse would go numb, and the pain would be less effective. Too softly, and she wouldn’t receive the punishment she needed in order to feel changed.

Her hairbrush was the perfect tool for the occasion, just the right weight for a proper spanking. Now and again, his bride kicked and struggled, but for the most part, she submitted, and he began to hope their marriage might work out after all.

When her bottom reached a uniform, splotchy red, he noticed her sobs growing less resentful and more pitiable. When she cried without decorum or reservation, he knew she’d been punished enough. He put down the hairbrush and gave her a few final spanks with his palm, just to experience the feeling of doing so. Her arse cheeks were so soft, so hot. There would be bruises tomorrow to remind her of her punishment. He’d show them to her in a mirror if she said anything else about feeling guilty. Now, definitely, she’d paid her price.

As for his part in their encounter at the inn, he did not feel guilty. He’d married her, for God’s sake. He would take care of her, be a good husband as far as he was able, and that was his punishment—the lack of his former freedom, and the loss of Townsend’s friendship. It was a heavy price, but one he was obliged to pay.

He brushed her nightgown back down over her scarlet bottom and hoped he hadn’t gone too hard this first night. He helped her to her feet, then drew her into his lap when she tried to back away.

“A proper spanking’s not over until we talk about it,” he said.

She turned her head against his shoulder. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Why? Because I punished you? You needed it.” He rubbed her back as she still shuddered with the occasional sob.

“It hasn’t worked as you said,” she accused. “I still don’t want to be married, and I’m still ashamed you took away my virtue. I wish you’d leave me alone.”

He shushed her and pushed her hair from her eyes. She looked a mess, tearful and red-faced and messy-haired, ready to scream at him if only she had the courage to do it. “There, now,” he murmured. “It’s over. You must calm down.”

She squirmed on his lap, his hard thighs doubtless increasing the pain in her spanked bottom. He told her to be calm, but he knew she wouldn’t be for some time. A woman’s first punishment took a bit of time to digest.

As for spanking his own wife, instead of a painted courtesan in a flagellation parlor, that was an entirely new thing. A rather interesting thing. Her disordered gown, her pouting, trembling lips, her indignant expression…all of it was true and real, and incredibly arousing. His cock ached for her, pounded with a more intense desire than he’d ever felt after spanking the harlots at Pearl’s.

“Enough squirming and sniveling, Ophelia.” He guided her against his chest, stroking her back and shoulders. “You took your punishment well for a beginner. You are a beginner, aren’t you?”

She sniffled, her cheek sliding against his robe. “Of course I’m a beginner. I’ve never been spanked before, because I’ve always been very good. I’m sure I didn’t need to be spanked by you, of all people. I don’t feel better, or less guilty, and I think… I think you merely enjoyed hurting me.”

“Shall I spank you again?” He joked, but she jerked back and stared at him. She didn’t recognize his dry humor. How little they knew one another.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, because he thought he ought to know something, anything, about his wife.

She shifted with a grimace. “Pale yellow, I suppose. The color of daffodils.”

“Ah, the color of your gown today. That’s exactly what I thought when I first saw it—daffodils. And you wore it to become my bride. How wonderful.” He touched her chin, then her cheek, meaning to comfort her. “I’m sorry today was difficult for you. I’m sorry you had to submit to a spanking on your wedding night, but you mustn’t say it was because I enjoy hurting you. If I truly enjoyed hurting you, I wouldn’t have married you at all.”

“You had no choice,” she said peevishly. “Nor did I.”

“I had more choice than you. I could have made it seem you were the responsible one, rather than taking responsibility myself.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, hunching her shoulders. “No one would have believed you, since you’re the acknowledged rake.”