A Proper Lord's Wife (Properly Spanked Legacy 2)

“You’re not to move about or try to evade this punishment,” he warned. “You’re to be still and docile with your fingertips and toes remaining on the floor. Do you understand?”

She cried louder.

“Answer me, if you please.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, sniffling.

“Although, this first time, it might be easier if I held your hands behind you so you aren’t tempted to interfere.”

He drew her hands to the small of her back and gripped them there, so she was forced to balance over his thighs, hiding her face against the fabric of his robe. If this was marriage, she hated it. She ought to have stayed a spinster after all.

Once he had her arranged, he drew back his other hand and landed the first volley of blows. She surged up and tried to turn toward him. “Oh, you must stop, my lord! Ow, ow, ow!” The words tumbled over each other, out of her control. It hurt so badly, stung so hotly she could barely catch her breath.

“Be still,” he reminded her.

“I can’t. It hurts too much.”

“I know it hurts.” He smoothed a hand over her burning bottom. “But we’ve barely begun.”

He began to spank her again, and she realized now why he held her hands so firmly out of the way. If they were loose, she would have fought him, would have done anything to protect her backside. His blows hurt more than anything she’d yet encountered in life, more than falling on the stairs, or baby hedgehog bites.

“Oww,” she said, “Ow, ow, please.” How long would he smack her bottom? She barely cried anymore. It was all she could do to breathe.

“Are you thinking about why you’re being punished?” he asked, as her legs kicked up.

“I’m thinking about that, yes. And also thinking that maybe I’ve been punished enough already.”

“My darling,” he said in his cool, authoritative way. “We are only halfway through.”

*

Townsend released her hands and gave her a moment to rest and rub her bottom. How outraged she was, to be bent over his lap. She had not been punished enough yet, because she was still complaining and resisting, but she was new to spanking, clearly, so he didn’t want to push her too far.

Once she’d had a bit of time to snivel, he retrieved her hands and landed another set of measured spanks. He would not flail at her in anger. No, he’d waited for his anger to subside to a certain point before he’d summoned her to his room, for this wasn’t about bullying. This was about consequences and setting expectations for future lapses of judgment. She wasn’t happy at the moment, but she’d come to understand the wholesome balance of discipline soon enough.

He took another break when her cries deepened, stroking the backs of her legs to calm her. Her bottom had turned a nice, even pink. Why, he could have walloped her until she was scarlet. He was hardly hurting her on a scale of true punishment.

“Give me your hands once more,” he told her. “Take this last bit of spanking, then we’ll be through.”

She complied with sniffling, offended sobs, but no talking back. Her arse cheeks were unused to spanking and would probably stay sore at least a day or two, he warranted. Yes, it was nearly enough.

He gave her ten more spanks, five upon each cheek. They were the hardest by tradition, and she struggled and fought against him, but she didn’t protest.

“Well done,” he said. “That’s all for now.”

He almost hated to draw her nightgown back down. Her bottom was lovely, pert and round and firm, and gorgeously tender from punishment, but this was not about his sexual response to spanking. It was about setting the groundwork for a marriage of balance and trust.

So he pulled her gown and night robe down and helped her to her feet, and held her when she tottered. “Sit with me a moment,” he said, pulling her into his lap even though she resisted.

She pointedly looked away from him, toward the window. He could still see tears on her cheeks in the candlelight as she settled unhappily into his arms. He wiped them away with his fingers, then rearranged her on his thighs so she wouldn’t feel his erect cock pressing against her. He did enjoy spanking women, and spanking his own wife had carried an affecting frisson of excitement.

He could not bed her tonight, though. It would confuse the punishment, to follow it with lovemaking, especially since it would be her first sexual experience. She was so achingly innocent, so virtuous for all her secret snakes and rabbits. He supposed he ought to be grateful that was all she’d brought to their marriage. She might have brought a damned badger, or a wolf.

“This looks very pretty on you,” he said, as the silence between them grew onerous. He brushed his hand over her gauzy nightgown. “I hope it is comfortable.”