The Knight's Seduction (11 page)

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured as he lowered his lips to her neck. “I would never harm you, I hope you know that.” The head of his cock found her opening and rubbed over it, requesting entrance.

Her fingers twined in his hair. “I believe you,” she whispered.

He nipped her shoulder, pushing his manhood against her tight entrance, entering by a tiny measure. “Say yes, Daisy.”

She said nothing, her breasts lifting and lowering with quickened breath.

“Daisy,” he said more urgently.

“Do what you want with me,” she whispered.

He nearly plunged deep into her, but at the last moment, he withdrew. He didn’t want it this way. Not as a punishment, or something she gave as penance. He wanted her to want it as much as he did, to beg him for it. With effort he pulled back from her and rolled to his side. He thought he saw disappointment on her face before he got up, but that was probably just his own reflected back at him.

“Where are you going?” she asked, sitting up and clutching the open bodice of her dress to her chest.

He gave her a sad smile. “Away from the temptation of you,” he said.

She looked lost, as if he’d abandoned her. “Why didn’t you take me?”

He shook his head. “It’s just that I want you to truly desire it. Not to offer because you’re trying to get out of your strapping.”

She flushed a deep pink, scrambling out of the bed. “I did not offer to distract you from my punishment,” she cried defensively. “I only wanted—” She stopped and blinked. Then swallowed and looked away.

“You only wanted what?”

“I didn’t like you angry with me. I wanted to show you I was sorry.”

He swept her up in his arms. “Sweet little wife. I’m not angry anymore. And I accept your apology.” He kissed the top of her head, then summoned some resolve. “I am still going to teach you a lesson with my belt, though.”

Daisy said nothing, just remained pressed against his body, as if drawing strength from him.

“Take off your clothes.”

* * *

Daisy drew a breath as she allowed her dress to fall open and spill to her feet. She clutched the skirt of the chemise in her fingers, but hesitated, embarrassed.

“One…” Sir Barrett began to count.

She sprang into action, tearing the chemise off and dropping it on top of the gown before he got to ‘three.’ She stood blushing before him as he took a long, leisurely survey of her body. Warmth pooled between her legs.

“Turn around,” he commanded.

She bit her lip and rotated, showing him her backside. Her bottom still tingled and burned from the hand spanking he’d given her. She heard the sound of his footsteps moving away, but she did not dare turn to see what he was doing, since he had not given her permission.

“Daisy, come here,” he said after a few moments.

She turned to see he had folded several blankets and stacked them on top of one another. Realizing his intent, genuine fear rooted her to the floor.

“Daisy,” he repeated, not raising his voice.

She forced her feet to move forward, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. She’d never felt more vulnerable in her life.

He reached out his large hand as if to comfort her and she placed hers in it. He led her to the side of the bed and tapped the stack of blankets.

Her body felt leaden as she crawled on top of the stack designed to lift and present her bottom for his chastisement. The skin on her back, bottom, and legs crawled in anticipation of the leather belt. “Please, sir,” she found herself begging before he’d even started. “Forgive me.”

“I have already forgiven you, little Daisy, but I need to be sure you understand this lesson.”

“I do understand it,” she assured him, her palms both cold and sweaty at the same time. She could almost hear the frantic thump of her heart pulsing in her ears.

“I’m not going to go easy on you; this rule is a serious one for me. I do believe your intentions came from your sweet and loving heart, and I will take that into consideration. Do you need me to tie your hands to keep you from reaching back?”

The question only drove more fear into her. “No, sir,” she squeaked.

He picked up his belt from where he’d discarded it on the floor and wound one end around his fist until the remaining length was a bit longer than his forearm. He pressed a hand into her low back and slapped the belt across her raised buttocks.

She squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath to keep from crying out. He brought it down a second time and then a third. It was not as horrid as the riding crop had been. She thought she could handle it until she began to doubt he would ever stop. She abandoned her attempt to lie still and quiet after twenty-five strokes. Her bottom blazed and she was sure she could not take any more. Each new slap of the thick leather caused her to jump and kick as she wriggled all over the pile of blankets. Without thinking, she reached back to try to cover her poor welted flesh.

“Naughty wife,” Barrett murmured, grasping her two wrists in one of his large hands and holding them against her low back. He returned to whipping her and she began to cry.

“Please, Barrett. Please. I’m so sorry,” she begged.

On and on he whipped, until she gave up all fight and lay sobbing into the covers. She did not even notice the whipping had ended until Barrett scooped her up into his arms and settled on the bed, holding her cradled against his chest.

She clung to him like a child, soaking his shirt with her tears as he stroked her back and kissed her hair. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“You’re forgiven, angel,” he murmured. “It’s all over now.”

She drifted to sleep nestled against Barrett, exhausted.

When she woke, he had gone. Her bottom still throbbed from her spanking and she imagined her eyes must be red and swollen from crying. She wondered if he had locked her in the room. She dressed and tested the door and found it open. She shut it again, not willing to show her face in the castle until she felt more like herself.

The rabbits were gone and a fresh fire burned in the hearth, so Barrett could not have been gone for long. She lay on her stomach and thought about her husband.

She loved him. He had been so worried for her safety and so careful with her—only spanking with his hand while he was angry, and apologizing for scaring her. And even though the whipping had been sound, she didn’t mind. She took it as proof of his love—he would not allow her to endanger herself without consequences.

And yet, she still couldn’t give him what he desired. She understood why he had not taken her, even when she’d offered, but she didn’t think she could do it the way he wanted. She would never beg for it, would never actually
want
to have sex. The only thing she wanted was to please him. Maybe that would be enough…

* * *

Barrett returned to his chamber before suppertime. Daisy had not appeared that afternoon and they had both missed the noontime dinner, so she must be hungry. He found her lying on her stomach on the bed.

His heart lurched. Had he spanked her too hard? He knew he had not, and yet it had been difficult to mete out a real, serious punishment. He felt even more protective than usual for her now. “The door was not locked, Daisy. Did you think I had confined you as punishment?” he asked.

She pushed to sit up. “No, sir. I suppose I am hiding,” she said.

His heart stopped. “From me?” he asked in a choked voice.

“No,” she said, climbing off the bed and walking to him. “Not from you,” she said softly, placing her hands on his chest.

He covered them with his own. “Nobody overheard your whipping, if that’s what you fear.”

She pressed her face against his chest. “You whipped me hard,” she said. It sounded more like an observation than a complaint.

He lifted her chin and smiled down at her. “I had to be sure my naughty wife learned her lesson.” He grew sober again, remembering how frightened he’d been. “Did you?”

She nodded and rubbed her backside. “Yes, sir.”

He reached behind her and squeezed her sore little bottom. “On nights when I’ve had to punish you soundly, you will give me your bottom hole to show me you’re sorry.” He had not planned any such punishment, but his cock hardened when he invented it in the moment.

She looked up at him searchingly. Of course she did not know what he meant.

Earlier he had not wanted her to offer sex as penance, and now here he was demanding she give him her most private entrance for his plunder. He shifted his aching cock in his leggings. “It’s suppertime now. At bedtime I will show you what happens to naughty wives.”

She bowed her head submissively, which only made his cock surge more insistently against his leggings. That he’d won her trust and respect meant the world to him.

He held out his arm. “Come, let us eat. You may sit on my lap if the bench is too hard for you.”

She took his arm and they went downstairs where she sat meekly on his lap, teasing his cock with the feel of her soft, round arse.

He made her fetch the butterfat after supper and asked her to bring it to him in their chamber.

She arrived, blushing, but not appearing overly frightened.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructed.

For the second time that day, she undressed under his watchful eye. He would never grow tired of seeing her in her full beauty. Her peach-tipped breasts bounced when she released them from the confines of her bodice, her hips swayed as she shifted to step out of her dress. She clasped her hands in front of her sex, as if to hide it from his view.

He sat in a chair near the dressing table, where the butterfat lay. “Come lie over my lap,” he said.

She obeyed, taking his hand and allowing him to guide her into place.

“Reach back and hold your cheeks apart for me, Daisy.”

She shot him a worried look over her shoulder, but complied.

He scooped a dollop of the butterfat with his fingers and rubbed it over her darkened hole, watching the way it puckered and released each time he touched it. “You see, when you’re naughty, Daisy, I will make your bottom sore all over. Not just your pretty cheeks,” he said, pinching her swollen flesh between his fingers and thumb and giving it a gentle shake. “Your bottom hole may be punished also. Or it may be pleasured. But this is for me to decide.”

She made a small mewling sound as he rested his thumb against her anus and tapped it.

“Which would you prefer tonight? Shall I punish your bottom hole?”

He’d pressed until the reflexive contraction of her opening released and he slid in.

She stiffened, her legs straightening out behind her, her back arching.

He slapped the back of her thigh. “Don’t fight me or I’ll have to give you another spanking. And I’m quite certain you don’t want that, do you?”

“No, sir,” she answered quickly.

“I didn’t think so.” He massaged the inside of her tight channel, working the oil into every tiny crevice, inside and out.

She moaned, holding perfectly still for him, her head held up, alert.

“Who does this little bottom belong to?” he asked sliding his thumb into the second knuckle.

“You, sir,” she yelped. “Ahhh…”

“Pleasure or pain, Daisy? Which do you prefer?” he asked as he pumped his thumb in and out of her hot orifice.

“Pleasure, sir,” she said. “Oh, please…”

He made circles with his thumb inside her arse, widening and stretching her tight hole to accommodate him.

“Oh, please,” she repeated, her voice rising in pitch.

He could wait no longer. Keeping his thumb embedded in her arse, he lifted her to her feet. “Back over the stack of blankets,” he directed.

She did not move, probably confused about how to do so with his thumb still intruding. He shoved his thumb deeper, using it to propel her forward.

She gasped, taking tiny, tight steps to the bed and stopping when she reached the side of it.

“Up,” he commanded, swinging his other hand to catch the back of her thigh.

She yelped and climbed up on the bed, crawling slowly forward to drape herself over the blankets.

“Good girl,” he praised, sliding his thumb out.

He washed his hands and scooped more butterfat from the dish, applying it liberally to his straining cock.

He crawled over her. “Naughty wives take it in their bottom holes,” he said, pressing the head of his cock against her tiny entrance. “Be a good girl and let me in or I’ll have to give you another spanking.”

“No,” she whimpered.

The lubrication and stretching worked their magic and her tight hole opened, allowing him to slowly push forward. He entered little by little, stopping and giving her time to adjust and watching closely for any panic or trauma on her part. “Reach down between your legs and touch your quim, Daisy.”

She obeyed, lifting her hips just enough to slip her hand down.

“I want you to tell me what it feels like.” When she didn’t answer, he prompted, “Tell me, Daisy.”

“It’s wet,” she whispered.

“Mmm, that’s just how it should be. What else do you feel?”

“It’s slippery.”

“I want you to stroke it, Daisy,” he said. “Find the places where it feels the best.”

He gave her a few moments to begin, then started to move in and out, gliding easily with the help of the butterfat.

Daisy moaned.

“Did you find a good place?”

“No… yes… I don’t know,” she said, her voice stretched thin by a wail.

“Give me your bottom, Daisy,” he growled. “You’ve been a bad girl. Show me how sorry you are.”

“Yes,” she cried. “I’ve been a bad girl. Take my bottom. I’m sorry!”

It took all his effort to hold back and not plunge into her with his full force. Her acceptance of his dominance fed his passion until he could no longer take it.

“Bad, bad girl,” he scolded, pumping his cock into her arse as his seed surged down his shaft. He spent inside her, then eased out and pulled her to her side, nested against him. He kissed her hair and snuggled her. “Good girl, Daisy. You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”