And she thought,
If I am transcendent, you have made me that way.
Even the ginger couldn’t take away the feeling that this marriage, and her burning lust for her husband, was very, very right.
Hunter lounged back on the blanket on the lower south lawn, one leg bent, the other sprawled alongside his discarded coat and hat. He breathed deeply of the fresh scents of autumn leaves and grass. There would not be many more opportunities for picnics before winter was upon them, trapping them inside the house.
Not that being trapped in the house with Aurelia would be a bad thing.
There was a time he might have imagined it so. No longer. Over the past few weeks he’d come to the gradual and lowering realization that he was quite hopelessly in love with his wife.
She sat across from him, the sun playing off her glossy curls, and her ripe, seductive body displayed to stimulating effect by her low-cut gown. The dear thing just had yet another plump finger of ginger fixed into her bottom, which was probably why she squirmed so prettily over tea.
“Some men only fig their women to increase the intensity of a spanking,” he said, smiling over at her. “But they are unimaginative, aren’t they?”
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes with a harried exasperation that never failed to fire his blood.
“Poor little muffin,” he said, handing her a cream-filled cake. “It cannot be easy being married to me.”
“A great deal of the time it is not.”
He laughed at the barely veiled reproach in her tone. Lady Dormouse was not often in evidence these days, having been replaced by a much more confident—and sometimes downright impertinent—companion and lover. It was considered very gauche among the aristocracy to pant after one’s own wife, but with each passing day he wanted her more, admired her more, particularly her courage in fulfilling his unconventional demands.
Many wives would not have put up with him. They would have gone to a father, or brother, and rid themselves of his company if not his name. They would have found a way to live apart from him, and perhaps he would have been content enough easing back into his former life of casual, debauched sex. Instead, Aurelia had decided to submit to him, and slowly unwound from an uptight ice queen to a sensual, alluring bedmate. She had left behind all the virtue and restraint of her youth...for him.
It made him love her with an uncomfortable intensity. Sometimes it seemed his love for her burned through his very veins.
But did she love him? He wasn’t sure. Sometimes he thought she did, when she smiled and laughed with him. Sometimes she was still withdrawn, spending lonely hours curled in her window seat.
“Are you happy?” he asked as she licked a bit of cream from her lips.
She looked around the sunny field, and down at the confection in her hand. “Yes. Why shouldn’t I be? These cakes are my favorite, and it’s a lovely day.”
“I don’t mean happy just now. I mean, are you happy in general? Are you happy...with me?”
She gave him a long, frank look. “You are very brave to ask that when you’ve just put ginger in my arse.”
“Such language, my dear. You’ll have to be punished, won’t you?”
She came very near to rolling her eyes. He smothered his own smile and reached for her. “Come and sit with me.”
They were finished with tea. He pushed the cakes and cups aside and pulled her against him so they reclined together in the sun. “You smell like sugar,” he murmured. “And other delicious things.” He tugged down her plunging bodice to expose her nipples and the tops of her breasts, and bent his head to tease the pink tips. They pulled taut into stiff, pointing buttons he tormented with his teeth.
“Oh,” she sighed. “Please, Hunter.”
It still gave him a thrill to hear his name on her lips. She’d finally relaxed into calling him by his given name, in private at least. She squirmed against him, emitting little gasps no doubt elicited by the ginger. Still, her hips pressed to his, her head thrown back to give him access to her breasts. “You like that, do you?” He took one nipple between his teeth and bit it until she squeaked. Then he held her tight as he licked away the sting.
“I do like it,” she said. “Please...come inside me.” Her hands gripped his shoulders.
“I will, my love. But today we shall try it a new way.” His thoughts wandered to the vial of lubricating oil he’d brought along in his pocket to accomplish the task. She tensed a bit in his arms but he soothed her with a kiss. “You shall survive it, I promise.” He drew away and stroked her cheek. “But first things first. It’s time to take you to our favorite tree.”
“
Your
favorite tree,” she said.
She still complained about the rigidity of their spanking regimen. What lady wouldn’t? But she had come to realize that she only got pleasure if she submitted to a certain amount of pain. And he wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t draw some pleasure from the spankings too, as much as she whined and kicked and pulled faces. She rarely cried in earnest, which told him a lot.
He stood and reached down to her, stopping her when she would have adjusted her bodice. “Leave your breasts out, just as they are. I enjoy looking at them.”
She flushed hot, but obeyed. They left the blanket and tea things and headed out upon the wilderness walk. They strolled at a stately pace, her arm in his, for there was no rush. The walk consisted of a natural path wide enough for two, flanked by thick trees and brush. It was shady and cool, and melodious with birdsong. They maintained an easy silence as they walked, as comfortable companions were wont to do. Now and again they heard the rustle of some small woodland creature looking for food or seeking its nest. After five minutes or so, he paused on the path to twist a slender, low hanging branch from a birch tree.
This done, they continued their walk. Aurelia made no comment as he peeled the leaves from the branch and discarded them, and stripped it into a pliable switch. He’d taught her long ago that pleading or cajoling wouldn’t save her from her fate. At length they reached their special tree, a fallen oak nearly four feet in diameter. He put down the switch, and spread his coat over the rough top of the trunk.
He stepped back and nodded to Aurelia. She moved forward with a sigh, her buxom breasts still wantonly exposed, and bent forward over the fallen tree trunk, across his coat so her gown and delicate skin would be protected from the bark. He went instantly hard as he watched her do it. He felt some pleasure wrestling her over his lap or over a spanking bench while she protested and fought him, but he found even greater pleasure when she docilely offered her bottom for chastisement.
He moved behind her and pulled up her skirts, arranging them high on her back so her plump, tensing bottom was on full display. The ginger’s flange still peeked obscenely from between her cheeks. He thought of the vial of lubricant; there’d be more than ginger between those luscious cheeks today.
He drew back the switch without further ado, and gave her a few light swats to accustom her to the sting. That accomplished, he laid them on a bit harder, so she danced and fidgeted on her toes. He could see her hands twisting in the fabric of his coat. She had long since learned that throwing her hands back to shield her bottom was a serious offense. He had trained her out of such folly with the types of spankings that did make her cry.
She moaned as the switching continued. The ginger undoubtedly didn’t help. He believed he must take it out and let some of the worst of the sting dissipate before he took her arsehole—not just for her sake, but for his. He did so, tossing the fig out into the forest now that it had served its purpose.
“Please, no more,” she begged, looking back at him in entreaty. “My bottom feels all hot and used up.”
“Shall I switch your thighs instead?”
“Oh, no!”
He did give her a few smarting slices to the backs of her thighs before swatting her bottom again. The quiet, whistling strokes built upon one another, mixed with the yelps and shrieks of his punished victim. He thought he’d better make her quite beside herself before he left off, so she would be docile, perhaps even grateful, for what would come next.
In truth, he felt a bit of a cad to bugger his own wife. It wasn’t proper, not in the least, but he enjoyed it and he thought it felt good. Aside from the delicious tightness, there was something about the forbidden nature of sodomy that compelled him, so that he didn’t really want to live without it. Aurelia didn’t have to like it too—few ladies did. She only had to submit to it. He would happily please her in other ways, but buggery took two and so he at least needed her cooperation.
When her legs started to tremble, and her yelps attenuated into long, pleading cries, he decided she had had enough of the switch. He flung it away and bent to inspect his wife’s backside. He rubbed some of the sting-ier looking welts, giving her a few hand spanks for good measure. The red hand prints combined with the neat lines of switch marks to give her arse a well-punished glow. He parted her cheeks, squeezing each one.
“You took that very well, my dear. I know it was a difficult session.”
“At least you took the ginger out,” she said, her voice still a bit quivery. “It got easier after that.”
“But I am going to put something else in.” He unbuttoned the flap of his breeches and pushed them down, releasing his rock-hard organ. Just the thought of what he was about to do had him unbearably excited. It had been weeks, after all, weeks of steady preparation in hopes it would go well. “We’ve discussed this before,” he said in a soothing voice as she shuddered upon his coat. “And we’ve practiced a bit, with the ginger and with my fingers.” As he spoke, he availed himself of the little vial of slick oil, dripping some onto the tight bud of her nether opening, and smoothing some onto his fingers. He slipped one finger past the tight ring, massaging gently before proceeding to ease it in and out of her.
She cried out softly. “I’m afraid.”
“I know, my love. But there is nothing to be afraid of. It will hurt a little, but you’re so brave now when it comes to pain. And if you’re a very good girl for me, I promise you shall be rewarded at the end.” He added another finger, stretching her tense hole wider, and used the other hand to massage her lower back and her scarlet buttocks. “There now. Two fingers. It’s not so bad, is it?”
“But you are much thicker than two fingers.”
“Aurelia.” He pressed both fingers inside her to the hilt. “Do you trust me?”
She gave a great sigh and finally whispered, “Yes.”
Aurelia wanted to trust her husband. He had worked so hard to prepare her to do this outrageous thing he liked, but she was so very scared. He had put so much ginger in her bottom the last few weeks that she had come to think of it as a terribly painful place.
Well, of course it was going to hurt. He’d told her so. She felt cool, slick liquid and then the stretching probe of his fingers, and it felt very uncomfortable. He grasped her left hip with one hand.
“I’m going to go very slowly, all right? You remember your duty is to relax and not to clench.”
Oh, that was very easy for him to say, she thought. He was not the one bent over in the middle of a forest with his spanked bottom exposed and about to be invaded by a man’s cock.
She whined as he moved forward. She felt the blunt tip of him pressing to her hole, and she knew at once that it was far too big and she wouldn’t be able to stretch around him. She knew from her many trips to her knees in his service, how thick and distended the tip of his cock became when he was aroused.
“You can’t,” she gasped, gritting her teeth. “It won’t fit.”
“I assure you it will fit if you relax. And, might I remind you, this is like the ginger. The greater you clench upon it, the worse it will hurt.” He held her hip harder and nudged another bit deeper inside. “Open. Open,” he urged her.
But it didn’t feel right at all, nothing like when he made love to her quim. It ached with a terrible burn and she squirmed, trying to evade his forward motion.
“Be still, devil take it,” he said. “The tip’s inside you. Give your body a moment to adjust to the sensation.”
The sensation? It could more aptly be called torment. And once they accomplished this, she feared he would want to do it over and over. Every day perhaps. She had thought she could make a go of this marriage, depravity and all, but now she was not so sure.
“I’m afraid. It hurts so much,” she said.
“Aurelia, please.” His voice sounded ragged, as tormented as her own. “Please try a bit harder, for me.” She could hear him taking slow measured breaths. She felt more of the slippery stuff drizzled down the crack of her behind. He smoothed it around her hole, a touch that felt much more pleasant than the stretching inside. He moved the slightest amount, forward and back.
She braced for more pain but her body, somehow, was relaxing around him. The sharpest, agonizing pain had faded, giving way to a filled-up kind of discomfort.
“What do you think now?” he asked.
“Are you all the way inside? Perhaps it’s not so very bad, if you stay still.”
He gave a husky laugh. “I won’t be able to stay still much longer, and I’m only an inch or so inside.” The massaging hand at her back squeezed harder. “Please, Aurelia. We’re so close. Relax and let me love you this way.”
How strange, to think about this as a type of loving. But she supposed it was. He might hurt her so badly, right now, this second, but instead he tarried and made infinitesimal forays in and out. He was waiting for her to accept him, rather than force his way in and hurt her. She reached back to touch his leg, feeling the strong muscles of his thigh. So much power to hurt her, but she realized that he wouldn’t, not in this.
“I...I think it is all right,” she said. “But please, go slowly.”
“Oh, my beautiful girl,” he sighed in reply. He drove forward a little, then a little more. The oil eased the way so there was no painful friction, although she felt terribly full. He pushed in, in, in until she thought she could not feel more impaled. “I’m all the way inside you now,” he breathed. “How does it feel? Not so very bad?”