Punishing His Ward (Domestic Discipline 3)

"There's one much, which is even larger, but I don't see the need for that one," the Earl said, shifting so that he was standing directly behind her. Even though she couldn't see him, she could feel his movement and the heat of his body as it came closer to her beaten bottom. Cynthia started to nod her agreement, deciding that she was relieved the ordeal was over, and then she shuddered as something new poked her newly stretched rear entrance.

It was hot and thick, softer than the things he'd been putting inside of her, and yet rigidly hard. When both of this hands grasped her hips, Cynthia realized it was his cock - he was putting his cock into her arse! Thicker than the prods he'd been using, hotter in temperature, and so much more frighteningly intimate, Cynthia shuddered and moaned as the long shaft sank deeper and deeper.

If she'd thought she felt full before, it was nothing compared to now.

When his body pressed against her hot, battered cheeks, flames ignited across the sensitive surface of her skin, even as her hole clenched tightly around him. He groaned and twitched inside of her, rocking hard against her bottom and causing her to writhe for all new reasons. Of all the outcomes she might have expected when she'd dared to enter his room this evening, none of this had crossed her mind.

She felt him lean forward, bending over her, as one of his hands slipped around her hip and down to the front of her mound, the pads of his fingers pressing knowingly against her pleasure nub. The little swollen bud sparked to life, eagerly. The Earl shifted his hips, withdrawing slightly and then pushing back in; the same way he'd worked her tight hole with the hard prods, but somehow this felt completely different.

Despite the flare of fiery pain in her bottom as his body pressed against the beaten surface, Cynthia found herself rocking back against him, encouraged by the circular rubbing of his fingers over her clit. The wetness of her pussy was coating his fingers and it felt so delicious to be so very full in her backside while he played with her little pleasure nubbin. Delicious and yet also as though lightening was striking through her with every short hard thrust of his cock into her fundament.

This wasn't the marriage act; it was something depraved, something meant to punish but which also pleasured, a way of enforcing his dominance over her. Cynthia hadn't asked for this, wouldn't have wanted it if she'd been given a choice, felt rather embarrassed by her ardent response to it, and yet the Earl was forcing her to pleasure anyway, even as he ravaged her most intimate area.

And it felt wonderful.

Terrible.

Life altering.

Cynthia cried out, her back arching upwards as the Earl's fingers rubbed out an intense orgasm from her. The pleasure felt doubly intense for the amount of pain it had to overcome, making her feel almost floaty as the rapture trembled through her limbs. It was a strange climax, involving her rear channel as much as any other part of her body, which made the pleasure feel much fuller, much more rounded and complete, like she was being fully satisfied for the first time.

Almost. The channel of her womanhood still felt empty, but it didn't diminish her ecstasy at all. She was wild with it, her body trembling and spasming, riding his fingers for all she was worth.

Then the Earl's fingers pulled away, his body did as well, and Cynthia was suddenly being pounded into his bed with long, forceful strokes. Now that she’d gotten her pleasure, the Earl was taking his. Both of his hands gripped her hips, and now that he was no longer hunched over her body, the Earl was able to withdraw much more of his cock before slamming it back into her. She shrieked at the intense sensations, especially as his body slapped against her reddened buttocks, as if spanking her all over again.

Something smacked into her wet pussy lips with every thrust, her flesh jiggling, her abused hole protesting; and yet the pleasure went on and on. It was as if she couldn't stop cumming now that she had started, no matter what he did to her. Cynthia bucked beneath him, clenching and twisting in her passion. Pressing her mouth against the bed, she screamed his name as she felt her entire body begin to curl, from her toes, to her arching back, to her gripping fingers.

******

Bloody hell...

His fiancés' tight arsehole was like a bloody vise... and the vision of his slick cock disappearing between those beautifully reddened cheeks only inflamed Wesley further. He was going to fill her backside with his seed in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Having wrung Cynthia's reluctant pleasure from her sopping wetness, he felt no compunction about taking his own, as roughly as he desired.

Although it did seem as though she was still enjoying herself anyway.

Wesley lost himself in the intimate, depraved act, and his fiancés' wanton response to it. Her hot, tight hole was gripping him over and over again, the flesh of her welted bottom jiggling and rippling every time he slapped against it. As her moans and whimpers filled his ears, he reveled in his choice for bride. If this was any indication of what their love life would be like, it would be no hardship to cleave to his wife and no other.

Gripping her hips even more tightly, he shouted something... he didn't even know what... and nearly felt his knees buckle as his cock began to throb inside of her. He covered her body with his own, burying himself as deeply in her ass as he could, shuddering as she clenched his cock and milked the seed from his balls straight into her dark channel. Every jet of cum into her backside had him jerking and rocking against her hot buttocks until he lay, spent, atop her, lazy with sensual satisfaction.

Eventually her soft whimpers and small movements recalled him to himself.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, softly into her ear, concerned that he’d perhaps become too rough at the end. While it had been perfection for him, he didn’t want to scare her off from such relations and now that he was more in control of himself he worried that he’d pushed her too far.

Cynthia shuddered beneath him, clenching again and Wesley moaned as he rocked against her. The spasms made his sensitive cock jerk and he pulled away, gasping. The air felt cool against his groin, no longer nestled in the warmth of her body. Her face was turned to the side, but he could see enough of her expression to realize that she was in a bit of a daze - unsurprising considering everything he'd just put her through.

Not that she hadn't deserved it.

Quickly cleaning himself off with a cloth, he then cleaned the seed which was beginning to leak from the tiny crinkled hole, which had tightened back to its original proportions, and her thighs of her juices. To his satisfaction, he saw that her little rosebud anus was quite pink but otherwise quite unscathed. The dilators had done their work very well in preparing her for his cock.

Donning his own dressing gown, Wesley dressed Cynthia back in her wrapper, handling her like a life-size doll. She smiled up at him, rather dreamily, and then shivered. When he pulled her up into his arms, she snuggled right into him with her head on his shoulder. Sighing rather regretfully, as he would have preferred to keep her with him for the rest of the night (a rather surprising sentiment, but at least he knew Hugh and Edwin were the same way so he wasn’t alone), Wesley opened his door, made sure no one was in the hall, and began carrying his burden back to her own room.

He looked forward to after their wedding, when he could keep her beside him in bed, within easy reach whenever he wished. No wonder his friends preferred to share a room with their wives. Wesley would be following their example.

Chapter 14

Eleanor's tapping fingers couldn't completely distract her from the nausea that had been threatening all morning. She felt distinctly green. Even the tea that the Countess of Spencer had given her wasn't helping very much. The Countess' sharp eyes had seen more than Eleanor would have wanted; she only hoped that the Countess didn't share her suspicions with Eleanor's husband.

Although Edwin had been most attentive lately, Eleanor still hadn't told him of her condition. Every day it became a little harder to admit it, as if by waiting she was risking more, although eventually she knew it would become obvious even if