by Renee Rose
Some traitorous part of her screamed yes.
She shoved it forcibly away. She could not encourage him. The most important thing tonight was to make him understand she could not consummate the marriage.
Sir Barrett continued to feed her until she shook her head and mumbled, “No, thank you.”
“Lovely manners, Daisy,” he said, the rumble of his low voice reverberating through his chest against her back. He picked up his goblet of wine and pressed it to her lips.
She drank several sips, certain he would spill it into her lap, but he read her perfectly, somehow knowing when she’d had enough to drink, and righting the goblet. He drank down the rest of the wine and lifted her to stand.
“Did you not eat?” she asked in dismay.
He grinned. “Aye, I ate along with you. Did you not notice?”
She ducked her head. She must have been too wrapped up in herself to realize.
“Come. I’ll show you our chamber.”
The mention of the word chamber brought a renewed sense of dread. She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to think of something she might tell him to keep him from forcing her into that terrible act. She shuddered.
“Fear not, little one,” he said, probably noticing her shiver. “I will be gentle.”
She blinked back tears, any hope she’d had that he might not intend to consummate the marriage dashed.
He led her up the spiral stairs to the solarium, a large room with a high, domed ceiling. Instead of a pallet, he slept on a prince’s bed, raised from the floor and covered with a beautiful woven blanket. A tapestry hung on the wall, in rich purples, red, and brown. It depicted a large bear standing on its hind legs.
She gazed at it, then glanced at the bear claw around Sir Barrett’s neck.
“They call him ‘The Great Bear,’” Penrod remarked, seeing her stare. He crouched at the hearth, building a fire.
“Sir Barrett, you mean?”
“Aye. When he leads the mercenary army, instead of Prince Erik’s, they ride under the banner of a bear.”
“Enough, Penrod,” Sir Barrett said mildly. “And add more wood. I don’t want my lady wife to be cold.”
Penrod smirked and looked as if he might say something, but Sir Barrett raised an eyebrow and the young man seemed to think better of it. He added two more logs and stood, approaching his master.
Sir Barrett waved him off. “I will undress myself,” he said.
Penrod bowed and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Sir Barrett unwound the ribbon binding her wrists, then loosened the tie that held her bodice. She caught the edges of it before it fell open and backed away.
He allowed her retreat, stripping off his tunic and then undershirt.
“Sir Barrett… my lord husband?”
He smiled indulgently at her. “Yes, love?”
“I-I cannot lay with you.”
His brows drew together. “You can and you must, else the marriage will not be complete.”
Her mind searched about for something to say. “I mean, I cannot tonight,” she ad-libbed.
“Why not?”
“Uh, well, you see… I have my monthly courses. So you’ll have to wait.”
“I will punish you for that lie,” he said without any trace of anger. He stepped toward her. “I think you must want to be spanked again. Did you enjoy it, little one?”
Again the strange slithering sensation in her belly. She backed up until she hit the wall. “No! Of course I didn’t. Why do you think it’s a lie?” she asked, desperately continuing the pretense, though it would be easy enough for him to disprove.
“I have already had your bottom bare once today. Have you forgotten? I suppose I did not make enough of an impression.” He sauntered closer. “What is it, Daisy?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Are you afraid I’m too big? That I will hurt you?”
She seized on his suggested reason. “Yes, sir,” she said, nodding vigorously. “You are far too large.” She blushed furiously when she realized he may have meant his manhood, not his entire stature.
He smiled, reaching her and wrapping his warm palms around her waist. “I promise I will make it as pleasant as possible, my sweet wife. There may be a little pain, but only the first time. And I assure you it ends with a great deal of pleasure.”
She shook her head, blinking back tears. “Please… I don’t want to. Please don’t make me.”
He frowned, looking genuinely concerned. Cupping her chin, he lifted it. “You are truly terrified, aren’t you?”
The tears began to spill. She dropped her eyes and nodded.
“Of me or of the marriage act?”
“Not of you,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
With great effort, she lifted her gaze.
“Did something happen to you to make you so afraid?”
She didn’t know how he had guessed such a thing. A sob choked her throat. “Please,” she begged, losing all semblance of control.
In a flash he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to a chair, where he sat with her cradled in his arms.
She didn’t even think to fight him—her body nested into his as if they were made to fit together. She tucked her face into his neck and wept in ugly, messy sobs. Just admitting her ruin brought back the terror of that day: watching her sisters raped and murdered, her own terrible violation, ended abruptly by another knight pulling him off her. That one’s too young, Wolfhart.
She’d taken her chance and run, escaping with an old serving woman to Hohenzollern.
“Were you raped, Daisy?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed and nodded into his neck.
“One time, or an ongoing abuse?”
She shuddered. She’d never considered it could’ve been even worse. “Just once. When I was still a girl.”
He rubbed her back and stroked her hair as she hiccupped, burrowing against his muscled chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Do you wish to tell me about it?”
She shook her head.
“Very well. When you’re ready to confide, I will be waiting. So is this what you were trying to tell me back at the Hohenzollern? That you could not marry?”
She sniffed and tried to straighten up, but he pulled her head back against his shoulder. “Yes, sir.”
“Bear,” he said softly. “My friends call me Bear.”
* * *
She fingered the bear claw around his neck. “Is that why you wear this?”
He covered her hand with his own. “No. It’s the other way around. I killed this bear when I was young, and the men have called me by it ever since. Of course, it’s also short for Barrett, so it suits me, I suppose.”
His talk of himself seemed to help, because she calmed down, her breath smoothing out, her head becoming heavier against his shoulder.
“You think all coupling is bad now?” he probed.
She gave a wry bark of laughter, the kind with tears behind it. “I know it’s not bad—at least not for others—but I simply cannot—”
“Easy, lady,” he said, rubbing her stiffened back. “I will not force you. But I also will not release you from this marriage or your obligation to me as my wife.”
She sat up and twisted to look him full in the face, her expression questioning.
“Daisy, I propose we make a bargain.”
She looked wary.
“I give you my word, I will not couple with you. Not until you ask—nay, beg me to.” And he did intend to make her beg. Bringing a lover to the edge while denying her release would have her on her knees eventually.
She made a scoffing sound. “I’m quite certain I would die first.”
“Aye,” he said, “You have proven your willingness to die. But wait—I have not finished. You will offer me your body, that I may teach you the pleasure of passion, and that you may learn to pleasure me—all without engaging in the actual act of consummation.”
Her bro
“There is more than one way to find pleasure with a woman or a man. I propose to leave out the one that gives you trouble, if you will allow me to teach you the others.”
Her blue-green eyes widened, but the wariness had gone. She studied him, as if measuring the meaning of his words. “Will it hurt?”
He gave a decisive shake of his head. “Never,” he promised. He opened his mouth, ready to launch into a long treatise on pleasure, but she nodded her head.
“Yes.”
He hid his surprise. “Yes? You will agree?”
“I know not why, but I do trust you, Sir Barr—I mean, Bear.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m honored. There is one more small thing you must promise me.”
“What is it?”
“You will not pleasure yourself. You will only come to me to learn of pleasure.”
She gave a short laugh. “You need not worry about that.”
He lifted a brow. “You do not pleasure yourself?”
She lifted her chest. “Certainly not. Do you?”
He chuckled. “When I cannot find a suitable partner, yes.”
Her smile faded and though it was probably wishful thinking, he hoped she’d been jealous to think of him with other women.
He lifted her to her feet. “One moment, sweet lady,” he said as he walked to the door and opened it.
Penrod slept in the antechamber, ready to serve at the first bark of his voice. He scrambled up from his bed. “Do you need another log on the fire, sir?”
“No, Penrod. Please go to the kitchen and fetch me a dish of butterfat.”
Penrod gave him a strange look, but knew better than to question the order. “Of course, sir.”
He shut the door and turned to his bride, advancing slowly. She did not look nearly so afraid now, which pleased him. He didn’t want her unwilling. He wanted her writhing with passion under his hands, begging him to take her. It would take some coaxing, but he didn’t mind. Teaching Daisy the pleasures of love would be a privilege. And while he intended to push her boundaries, he would never violate her trust. In fact, the entire seduction must be deeply rooted in her faith in his word, or else he’d never get anywhere with her, as scarred as she was.
He plucked the thread tying her braid and broke it, unraveling her thick flaxen hair until it fell in waves across her shoulders. Her breastbone rose and fell rapidly but she stood docilely allowing his touch. He reached for her loosened bodice. “I like you in green,” he purred, slipping his thumbs under the edge of the neckline and pulling it open.
She held her forearms across her breasts, holding up the gown, but her eyes conveyed only curiosity. He tugged the fabric out of her hold and slid it down her body, over the curve of her hips until it fell in a pool at her feet.
Her fingers twisted in her chemise, as if she would hang on to it for dear life if he tried to remove it.
“Take off your boots,” he instructed her, moving away to give her space. Winning Lady Daisy’s submission required a combination of taking away her autonomy and demanding her compliance.
A light tap on the door signaled Penrod’s return. Daisy shrank back, out of the view of the door. He opened it just a crack to receive the butterfat and thanked Penrod. Sitting back down in the chair, he beckoned to Daisy. “Come here, my lady. It is time for that spanking.”
She froze. “You are—are you…?” She stopped and shook her head as if to produce the proper words. “Must you?”
“I’m afraid so, love. Marriage is based on trust. You must know I will honor my word to you and I must believe the same of you. When you lie, you erode that trust.”
She flushed, looking genuinely chastened. “I shall not do it again.”
“Daisy,” he said, lowering his voice rather than raising it. “When I bid you come to me for a spanking, you would be wise not to stall or drag your heels. Else it will go far worse for you.”
She moved immediately, lurching forward, then slowing her steps as she arrived before him.
“Thank you,” he said, reaching for her waist to guide her over his knees. His pulse quickened at the feel of her soft form on his legs, her hip pressing against his thickened cock, the sight of her skin through the sheer chemise. He took his time sliding the hem of the shift up to her waist. The sound of her breath came like tiny gasps. He brought his hand down on one of her cheeks with power.
She yelped, her body jerking.
He rubbed away the sting, losing himself in the delicious sensation of her well-toned arse under his hand. He slapped the other side with equal force, then rubbed. Continuing with the slow pace of slapping and rubbing, he warmed her skin. He had no interest in doling out real punishment—his intention lay in seduction. But he also couldn’t allow their marriage to get off on the wrong foot by letting a lie go unpunished. He picked up the pace, omitting the rubbing between spanks.
Daisy began to wriggle and writhe over his thighs, her feet kicking up.
He continued only until the color on her bottom began to hold, then he stopped and stroked her tantalizing cheeks. He took a bit of butterfat on one finger and slid it between her legs.
She jumped, her legs and torso stiffening, her thighs clamping together.
“Easy, girl. This quim is mine now. I will keep my word, you must keep yours.” He wriggled his finger between her tightened legs. He had asked for lubricant because he feared it may take him some time to coax out a response, but he found her folds slick and plump. He nearly groaned at the sweetness of it. “There,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s not so bad, is it?”
She whimpered.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded.
She did not move.
He delivered four more slaps to her quivering bottom. “I said, open your legs for me, Daisy.” He waited.
After a moment, her thighs parted, but only by a finger width.
“More. Spread them.”
“Sir Barrett…” Her voice sounded plaintive.
“Yes?”
“Nothing—I don’t know.” Her legs opened a little further.
He smiled. He hoped he’d stoked her fire and she was experiencing the discomfort of sexual tension. He rubbed and circled the little nubbin of pleasure at the top of her opening and she began to undulate her hips. He doubted she even understood what she was doing and he certainly didn’t want it to stop, so he said nothing.
Everything about her intoxicated him—the scent of her arousal, the lurid sight of her bottom rising and lowering for him. He slid one finger inside her. She froze, stopping the thrusting. He did not encounter any resistance, but he’d known she was not a maid. Her channel still seemed tight so he worked it with one finger before he added a second.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re doing well. Just this first time I might bring you to completion.” She needed to know how sweet the reward could be before he withheld it.
She craned her neck to look over her shoulder at him and he knew she had no idea what he meant.
“Your pleasure,” he clarified.
He dipped the thumb of his other hand in the butterfat and slid it between her crack.
Once more, she protested, squeezing her buttocks together and straightening her legs.
He shoved his fingers in and out of her with more force and she thrashed wildly on his lap, looking as if she would swim away if they were in water. Abruptly, he pulled out his fingers and began to spank her rapidly.
She squealed.
“Your bottom belongs to me, too. Every part of you, my dear. You are mine to train.” He stopped spanking her. “Spread your legs and push your bottom back for me.”
He didn’t expect her to comply as readily as she did. She arched her back, opening her thighs.
“Good girl,” he praised. This time he started with her back hole, pulling open her cheek with one hand and rubbing a circle of butterfat around her anus.
She made a little gasping sound and started to kick, but seemed to catch herself.
He pushed at her tight hole and waited. Within a few seconds it opened to him and he pressed his thumb inside.
She made an alarmed sound in her throat.
He worked her back hole slowly, massaging all around the entrance, then sinking his thumb in deeply. With his other hand, he began to circle her clit.
She gave another cry, kicking her legs and bucking.
He shoved two fingers inside her sex, pumping them at the same time he thrust his thumb inside her.
“No,” she cried, wriggling with desperation. “What? Wait—” and then she came, the muscular contractions of her sex squeezing his fingers in ripples of release.
* * *
She gasped as her body jerked and bucked of its own accord, spasms emanating from deep in her core. She’d never experienced such a thing, nor had even known it could happen. Was this what Sir Barrett meant about her completion? A delicious warmth and relaxation soaked through her limbs, starting in her sex and traveling out.
Sir Barrett slipped his thumb out of her arse, causing her to groan. He stroked his fingers all along her slit, which seemed far plumper than she remembered it ever having been before. Her traitorous body opened to his touch, not seeming to remember her past trauma.
Lifting her to stand, Sir Barrett looked at her with amusement.
She probably looked a mess. Heat warmed her face and her eyes did not easily focus.
“There, that wasn’t so horrible, was it?”
It hadn’t been horrible. It had been embarrassing and uncomfortable at times but also wonderful and… wrong. “Yes, it was,” she said weakly.
He gave her bottom a gentle slap. “Another lie,” he said. Her eyes darted to his face to see if he intended to punish her again, but he still appeared amused, though his smile had a feral quality that kept her on edge. Lifting the skirt of her chemise, he slipped it up over her hips.
She fought him when it reached her breasts, holding her elbows tight against her sides to prevent him from completely disrobing her.
He chuckled. “You will sleep without covering in my bed, love. I need unfettered access to you at all times.”
-->