Claiming His Wife (25 page)

She didn't like to think what his
presence meant for Eleanor and Irene.  Although she'd learned
that Irene was more adventurous than Cynthia had ever guessed, it
was obvious that the redhead didn't enjoy spankings the way Cynthia
did.  Eleanor did, but only some of the time - and in her
current condition, Cynthia doubted she'd enjoy it at all.  As
for Grace... well, considering the portrait that Cynthia had found
tonight and the look on Grace's face as she'd read through the
letters she'd found, perhaps whatever punishment Lord Brooke doled
out would be worth it to her.  Cynthia certainly hoped so,
since she was going to be punished for it as well.

Curiosity was certainly
one of her besetting sins.  She'd just
had
 to go along on the
adventure with Grace.  Sneak out of the house.  Search
through a lord's private affairs.  Normally not the kind of
thing she would regret, but she was a bit worried about what the
Earl might come up with as a punishment.  Spankings were all
well and good, whether with his hand or a belt, because even though
they hurt like the devil during the process, the pleasure that
followed was immense.  On the other hand, the last time he'd
punished her, her bottom hole had paid the price, and Cynthia had
found the pleasure from
that
 to be rather shameful.
 It had made her feel utterly out of control and vulnerable in
a way that nothing else ever had.

She squeaked as Wesley started up the
steps to the house, bouncing her on his shoulder as he did so.
 Clutching at the back of his coat, her position felt
extremely precarious.

"Manfred," Wesley said, in
acknowledgement as the door opened, just a tinge of gratitude
coloring his voice.  The older gentleman looked shocked at the
sight of Cynthia upended over Wesley's shoulder, her rump high in
the air, one of his arms wrapped around her knees and the other
firmly gripping her thigh.

The butler swallowed and blinked
several times.  "My Lord," he said finally, coming to himself
and quickly closing the door behind Wesley.  Obviously hoping
that no one had seen.

Personally, Wesley didn't care.
 Most people would probably assume what the drunken men in the
street had - that the woman over his shoulder was a ladybird.
 Even if they recognized him, they'd think that he was
celebrating his last night as a bachelor.  Hardly something to
be remarked upon, although it wouldn't be considered good taste to
have brought the woman to his mother's house, it wasn't something
anyone would mention either.

Besides which, there was
something extremely satisfying about carting his annoying baggage
through the streets as her protests rained down on his ears.
 After all the aggravation she'd caused him this evening, it
only seemed fair.  When he'd first opened the letter from
Manfred and realized that Cynthia had gone missing, he'd thought
his heart was going to stop.  His chest had ached, thinking
that she'd gone back on her word and had gone out in search of
another man before their wedding.  It seemed like the kind of
thing his overly adventurous and rebellious hoyden might do,
although some part of him had held out that there must be some
other explanation, because she wasn't the type to go back on a
deal. 

Hearing that she'd gone
off with Grace hadn't helped.  Although he, personally, liked
Grace quite a bit, Cynthia didn't need any encouragement from
the
ton
's
favorite scandal.  He would have been less agitated if Eleanor
or Irene had been with them.  

Discovering them in Alex's
office, going through his things, had been a relief for Wesley.
 He was sure that Alex didn't feel the same way, but at the
moment that wasn't his concern.  His concern was ensuring that
Cynthia understood this kind of behavior wasn't going to be
tolerated.

He wouldn't have her
running around at night, on her own, doing who the hell knows what.
 If she wanted adventure, he could provide her with that.
 Hell, if she wanted to go snoop through somebody's things,
he'd be willing to go with her.  It could be fun.  He'd
put his foot down about his own friends of course, but still.
 The point was, she needed to recognize that she now had a
partner in life and that he should be included in her little
escapades.  Wesley needed to watch over her, to know that she
was safe. He needed to be there to extricate her from any situation
when she got in over her head.  It wasn't just possessiveness
he felt - she'd rattled every protective bone in his
body.

"We're in the house, you can put me
down now," she said, her voice reasonable, placating, as if she was
talking to a dunce or an intelligent animal.  Wesley gritted
his teeth and kept walking.  "My room is that way."

He ignored her words, and
her exasperated sighs, as he took her to his study.  That's
where everything he needed was.  He'd stopped for a moment on
his way out of the house, earlier, to give one of the maids orders
to set up his study just the way he needed it to punish his wayward
bride.  It would also separate him enough from the rest of the
house that their slumber wouldn't be disturbed.  Especially
his mother's.  Doubtless, if she knew what he was up to, she
wouldn't even let him discipline Cynthia.

"Your mother didn't want you to see me
tonight!" Cynthia said, as if she could sense that he was thinking
about the Countess.  "She said it's bad luck!"

"Bad luck for you," he replied,
letting go of her thigh and smacking her bottom over her skirts.
 It wouldn't hurt her with all that padding, but it was still
satisfying.  She squealed in outrage, not pain, making him
smirk.

He wiped the smile from his face as he
set her down next to the chair.  The items he'd requested from
the maid were laid out on his desk, precisely as he asked.
 Cynthia was too busy glaring up at him, her fists propped on
her hips, to even notice.  

"I can't believe you just carried me
through the streets like that!"

"I can't believe you
left
here
and
walked through the streets unaccompanied," Wesley growled back,
watching her eyes go wide with defiance and guilt.  "Putting
yourself and Grace in danger.  Not to mention, getting Irene
and Eleanor into trouble as well.  Don't think I can't guess
whose idea this was."  The guilt in her expression ratcheted
up, as well as concern for her friends.  Disobedient wench.
 The only person she should be concerned for right now was
herself.  "Plus, going through Alex's private room.  Turn
around and bend over the chair with your skirts up around your
waist."

Her pert pink lips gaped open as she
stared up at him in surprise.  "Don't you want to know why I
did it?"

Wesley snorted.  "I
could care less, sweetheart, I just know that you did it and your
arse is going to pay for it."

"Don't speak to me like that, I'm a
lady," Cynthia snapped at him, even as she turned around and
started to lift her skirt.  "Your mother always told your
brothers not to curse in front of ladies."

That got another snort, especially
since the last part of her sentence was somewhat muffled as she
bent over the chair, offering up her bottom for his inspection in a
completely unladylike manner.  He didn't apologize, but he
didn't counter her argument either.  If his mother ever did
overhear the language he used in Cynthia's presence, she'd probably
wallop him herself. 

"Ladies don't go wandering off in the
night without an escort," he said sharply, his hand coming down
hard on her backside.  Tonight he wasn't going to bother
giving her a warm-up to the spanking.  This spanking was going
to be a warm-up to the birching she'd be getting.  The muffled
cry that greeted the blow indicated his force had been unexpected.
 Good, he hoped this got her attention.  

Cynthia shrieked again as his hand
came crashing down.  She hadn't realized how much she relied
on having her bottom sufficiently warmed up before he really
started swinging his hand.  Normally her buttocks were already
bright pink by the time he used this much force, receiving it cold
was a shock to her system that was both painful and arousing.
 Already she could feel her hard nipples rubbing against the
chair's cushion through the fabric of her dress, and her pussy
beginning to tighten and cream as his hand came down again and
again.

Just being in this position was
exciting for her, because she knew what was coming.  Even if
right now it did hurt like the dickens.  

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," she chanted into the
seat of the chair, her feet beginning to move and dance.
 Almost immediately the spanking stopped.

"Hold still, Cynthia, and keep your
legs well spread or I'll tie them apart."

The very idea made her shudder as a
gush of wetness leaked from her pussy.  She'd been quite
excited when he'd tied her hands to his bed the night she'd tried
to sneak into it, the idea of having her legs tied apart so that
all of her privates would be vulnerable and on display... she
wouldn't be able to keep him from touching her anywhere.

The Earl chuckled.  "Like that,
do you?

Before she even realized that he had
the necessary equipment nearby, Cynthia found herself with her
ankles spread much wider than she'd initially had them, leather
thongs wrapped around them to secure them to the legs of the chair.
 The position made her press herself down into the chair,
offering up her butt even higher to keep her balance.  She
whimpered as his hands ran up her thighs, pulling the flesh apart
to reveal the wet pink lips between them.  When his thumb ran
over her exposed anus, she made a small sound of protest, squirming
as if she could actually get away when she was tied up and helpless
like this.  

"You're a dream come true,
sweetheart."  

The admiration in his voice did
nothing to lessen the power of his next slap against her exposed
flesh.

SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!
 SMACK!

Cynthia shrieked and squirmed, wagging
her bottom up and down in the air because it was the only movement
she could make.  Her fingers clutched at the cushion beneath
her, using it to muffle her cries as the Earl's broad platter of a
hand abused her backside.  

The spanking stopped, his hands
gripping her flesh and squeezing hard enough to make her gasp as
his fingers dug into her heated buttocks.  Hot pleasure
coursed through her, making her clench and try to push back against
him as he confused her senses.  Then his fingers released and
she automatically braced herself for what was coming
next.

SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!
 SMACK!

She moaned and wagged her bottom,
knowing that he would be watching the way it danced for him.
 Aroused by it even as the pain of each swat jerked through
her.  Still, now that her bottom was well warmed, the initial
shock of the beating had lessened.  Even though tears sparked
in her eyes at the painful sting, Cynthia knew she could take
it.

Watching his bride's bottom jiggling
and squirming as he turned it a bright pink was pure pleasure for
Wesley.  Cynthia's tiny pink anus was completely exposed to
him, because he'd tied her legs down so far apart, and he could see
the glossy slickness of her pussy lips, open and vulnerable like a
blooming rose.  Spanking Cynthia wasn't a true punishment, not
for the level of misbehavior that she'd engaged in this evening,
but it was a good warm-up for the main event.

Since she couldn't see
him, he didn't bother to hide his grin as he gave her a final two
swats right on her sit-spots and stepped away.  The whimpering
noise she made was halfway between pained and needy eagerness as
she heard him move away from her.  The bright pink skin of her
bottom contrasted heavily against the cream of her back and thighs.
 

His hand hovered over the items on his
desk.  He'd never intended to use all of them tonight, but
he'd wanted to leave his options open.  For a moment he
considered the nipple clips, but he decided against them.  No
need to help her by giving her any kind of distraction from
punishing her rump.  And he could always use them tomorrow.
 Picking up the ginger root, he couldn't help but wonder if
his mother's staff knew why he would want it.  The root was
carved perfectly, which made him think that someone in the
household was familiar with this style of discipline.
 

Thick as two of his
fingers at its widest point, the root was blunt-ended with a tip
that was as thin as just one of his fingers.  There was a deep
groove just under its thickest point, which would help hold it in
place.  Small cuts had been made in the bulb to allow the
juices to flow.  He was so looking forward to how Cynthia
would react to this.

With his other hand, he slid his
finger along her wet slit.  The horny little wench moaned and
tilted her hips as much as she was able to. 

"Please... Wesley... fuck
me..."

The sound of her pleading voice,
saying his name, was almost enough to make him drop the ginger plug
and give in.  Except that he'd come this far without ruining
his bride before their wedding night, and he would hate to have
wasted all that effort.  Besides, she'd more than earned a
much harsher punishment than she'd received.  All she'd gotten
so far tonight was the warm-up.