Birching His Bride (Domestic Discipline 1)

It couldn’t. Surely she’d know immediately if she’d fallen in love. The tingling feeling just underneath her skin was just a symptom of the sensual desires that he’d awoken in her, the ones that he fed every night. Perhaps part of her was reluctant to give up the pleasures of the bedroom, but that wasn’t enough for her to cease in her efforts to gain control over her life and marriage.

Before tonight Edwin hadn’t always appreciated the time after dinner when the men and women would separate. Often he’d been more interested in talking to the ladies but this evening it had been almost necessary to his equilibrium to have that time away from Eleanor. And also to discreetly send Banks to get him a sandwich so that he wasn’t quite so starving. A glass of port and a cigar, some friendly banter with the gentlemen, and he was feeling much less murderous.

Not that Eleanor wasn’t going to pay for her transgressions, in fact he’d realized that the many antics of this evening called for a much harsher punishment then he’d ever given her before, but he was now going to be able to approach her discipline from a place of tranquility rather than anger. And he certainly never wanted to be anything but calm and disciplined himself when he was punishing her.

Following Hugh, who veered straight for Irene, Edwin sat next to his wife and spent the rest of the evening doing the pretty from Eleanor’s side. He didn’t allow her to move more than a foot away from him once all evening, which obviously only increased her anxiety and trepidation. The more he smiled, the more jittery she became.

Finally they were able to sweep their guests out the door, the small party a success as far as all of them were concerned. Lady Grace and Miss Chandler had managed to stay separated for the entirety of the evening following dinner, which made for a much more amiable gathering overall and Hugh had been quite happy to dance attendance on his soon-to-be bride while Conyngham had kept Lady Grace quite distracted.

“I’m going to go speak with Mrs. Hester,” said Eleanor as soon as her parents had said their farewell and left. “I’d like to have her opinion on the evening, what she thought worked well and what we might improve upon next time.”

While Edwin was sure that was true, and he was pleased to know that Eleanor was assuming her duties in regards to being his hostess, he also knew that she was trying to avoid being alone with him. Obviously she knew that she was in trouble.

"You may speak with her tomorrow," he said firmly, grasping her by the elbow with a firm hand. He looked at Banks. "Tell the staff that we are done for the evening and we should not be disturbed for the rest of the night."

"Very good, my lord," said Banks with a little bow-like movement as Eleanor let out a small whimper.

The expression on her face flitted back and forth between fear and a kind of determination, making Edwin wonder exactly what she had been thinking by serving all food that he disliked if she was so anxious about being disciplined. Sometimes he wondered if women's minds worked anything at all like men's; living with Eleanor he was beginning to come to the conclusion that they didn't. If she didn't want to be punished, why had she gone out of the way to do something she knew she'd be punished for? Not only had her menu been malicious, but the inappropriate dress she was wearing was another point of defiance. She could have made it more modest with a fichu but instead she'd chosen to flaunt herself before their family and friends. He still got a flash of jealous anger whenever he thought about Conyngham eying the creamy swells of her breasts, despite the fact that the man had done nothing more than look at what Eleanor was offering.

As Edwin pulled her along towards their bedroom Eleanor remembered that she was trying to show him that she wouldn't be cowed by his discipline, that no matter what he did she would keep doing what she wanted to.

Unfortunately that determination was somewhat undermined by the fact that she felt rather guilty about how little he'd truly been able to eat during dinner. She'd seen him manfully forcing himself to taste some of the dishes. Only someone who knew him well, who had studied his face while he'd eaten dishes that he'd enjoyed, would have noticed the tightness around his mouth and eyes, the slight grimaces. Although she'd done her best to pretend she wasn't watching him she hadn't been able to keep herself from sneaky little glances. It wasn't in her nature to be intentionally malicious, especially when she wasn't truly angry with Edwin, and so she rather felt as though she deserved some kind of punishment for that mean trick. The guilt that had quietly been growing all night now felt fit to bursting.

So it was with mixed feelings that she entered their bedroom, half-defiant and half-guilty. Edwin didn't seem angry anymore, although she knew that he'd been enraged by the end of dinner. Either he had better control over his facial expressions than she thought or he had calmed down. However she knew that calm didn't equate to forgiving.

Turning to face her husband Eleanor's body language was a study in contradictions. Her chin was high and her hands were fisted at her sides, but her shoulders were hunched and her eyes were wary, her face flushing and paling by degrees. Alone, standing in front of him, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he

looked, despite the blank expression on his face. Part of her fervently wished that she hadn't deliberately ruined this evening; she was quite certain that if she had behaved then they'd been finding wondrous, glorious pleasure together, the way they did almost every night. At least if she'd just worn the dress then she wouldn't have merited more than a spanking.

Looking at her husband's forbidding countenance she was sure that her punishment was going to be much more severe.

"Take off your dress," he said in a short, clipped voice, before turning away from her to go into his dressing room.

With trembling fingers Eleanor did the best she could but she couldn't reach all the buttons in the back. When Edwin returned he was wearing only his breeches and shirt, his hand wrapped around a birch rod. She felt her knees weaken and her mouth dry as she stared at the slender branches, tied with a pretty blue ribbon. The color matched her eyes exactly.

"Please, Edwin, no," she begged, unable to take her eyes off of the disciplinary instrument.

"Turn around," he ordered. Closing her eyes, the defiance leaking out of her, Eleanor did as he commanded. She could feel his fingers moving against her, undoing the last buttons of her dress. He helped her shrug it off and then he threw it to the side of them with a violent movement. With his help it only took a few more minutes before she stood completely bare and vulnerable.

"Pretty Eleanor," Edwin murmured, putting his fingers under her chin and tipping her head up to look at him. She let tears fill her big blue eyes as she pressed her hands against his chest, staring pleadingly into his dark ones which were as hard as stone. "Pretty wife. Why are you so naughty?"

She bit into her plump lower lip. Because this wasn't the marriage she wanted. Because she was slowly losing control, not just of her life but of her emotions. Because if she didn't make herself hate him, she might start to do more than care for him. She might start to love him. Then she would be just like her mother, bending to the will of a dictatorial husband who didn't have a care for what she might want. Even if Edwin cared for her she couldn't imagine him giving up any power in a relationship; he would use her love, the way her father used her mother's, to arrange the life that he wanted.

So she had to be bad, bad enough that he'd realize his disciplinary measures didn't work on her, bad enough that he would let her go away and stay with friends or family, live the life she wanted.

Edwin watched a strange array of expressions flicker over his wife's pretty face, too quickly for him to interpret any of them. He truly did want to know why she'd gone out of her way to make tonight miserable for him, it wasn't something he would have ever expected of her. That kind of antagonizing stunt wasn't in Eleanor's usual personality. It had been a calculated ploy but for what benefit? She had to know that she would be punished.

"Are you going to apologize?" he asked. Not that it would stop him from disciplining her. She deserved it, nay needed it. Hugh had been right, let her get away with little things and she would run with the freedom. Eleanor needed constancy, she needed to know where the line was and that she would always be disciplined for crossing it - or in this case for playing complete havoc with it. But if she apologized he would go a little lighter on her. Just a little.

But the obstinate creature shook her head, her teeth releasing her lip as her chin jutted forward. "I know of no need to apologize."

"Really?" He took a deep breath and raised his eyes to stare at the ceiling for a moment in exasperation. "Unacceptable Eleanor. Even for a prevarication I expected better from you." Especially since it was quite clear to both of them that she knew exactly what she needed to apologize for, now she was just being obstinate.

Chapter 7

The tension that Eleanor was feeling was almost overwhelming. She didn’t know what to do; she owed Edwin an apology because truly her behavior had been rather abominable when it came to the dinner menu she’d planned. But she also felt like she should continue her defiance, show him that she wasn’t just going to give in because he’d brought out a birch. No matter what kind of punishment, spanking, birching, she couldn’t give up if she was going to convince him that it would be less trouble to just let her go her own way.

Which meant that she was going to have to take the birching and then keep up her behavior. Not a pleasant prospect but surely that would show him that he should be the one to give up. Maybe if she brought it up now he would give in.