by Renee Rose
Her sex contracted at this pronouncement, even as she continued to fight him on removing the underclothing. Why did he need constant access to her body? What else did he intend to do to her? Her eyes traveled down to his crotch, where they widened at the sight of his substantial cock bulging beneath his leggings.
“I will honor my promise, little one,” he assured her.
Her eyes skittered around the room, as if the answer to her dilemma would appear, but nothing surfaced. Reluctantly, she relaxed her arms, allowing him to tug the chemise over her head.
“Good girl,” he said, scooping her up as if she were a baby and carrying her to his bed. He pulled the covers back and settled her on the mattress.
She gasped at the sensation and looked up at him with wide eyes.
“It’s goose-down. Do you like it?” he asked, crawling in beside her.
The feather mattress cocooned her in soft poufy warmth. “It’s incredible, my lord. How—” She stopped and flushed, realizing she might offend him by asking how he came by such a luxury. All the finery of his room spoke of the highest breeding, and yet, he had told her he came from an illegitimate birth.
“I have made quite a bit of silver with my mercenary endeavors. I lead my brother’s men when he needs me, and when he gives me leave, I have a troop I gather to go to battle for hire.”
“And that was how you ended up at Hohenzollern?”
He gave a faint smile. “No, I’m afraid my brother sent me with a small troop to represent Rothburg in the attack on your home.”
“Just a small troop?”
“It was symbolic. We had no doubt Hohenzollern would fall, but Erik wished to show our support for the cause.”
Her chest had tightened at the thought of Hohenzollern’s fall and it must have showed, because he touched her cheek. “You’ve lost everything twice now, haven’t you?”
Abruptly, she burst into tears. She tried to hide her face, but he pulled her against him, tucking her into his chest and stroking her head. She sobbed until all her tears had gone and she collapsed against him, exhausted.
“Daisy?”
She lifted her head.
He pushed her onto her back and leaned on his elbow, brushing the wisps of hair back from her face. “Did any part of what I did with you remind you of your rape?”
She stiffened at the word ‘rape,’ but something about the matter-of-fact way he discussed it—the thing she had kept locked inside as her dark secret for so long—released some of the darkness around it. She considered, then shook her head. “No,” she answered honestly.
“Good,” he said. “Because I never want you to experience those feelings with me.”
She swallowed, not sure if that was possible. After all, his game was clearly seduction, and hers was to avoid coupling at all costs.
“Sex is like a language. In its highest form, we use words to praise God. In its lowest, we hurl them to insult or harm those around us. So it is with coupling. It can be used in love, in worship, for mutual pleasure. And also for violence.”
She eyed him warily. His words made sense, but she didn’t want to let go of her armor and believe.
“I only want to teach you pleasure, Daisy,” he said. “Can you believe that?”
She sucked her cheek between her teeth and looked away.
When her eyes returned, Barrett was inches from her face. She jerked as his mouth covered hers, pushing her hands against his chest in a moment of panic. He lightened the kiss, releasing her mouth and claiming it again, stroking and caressing her lips until she began to move her lips against his, returning the kiss. He lifted his head and smiled down at her, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Sweet wife. I know you didn’t want to be taken away or to marry an oaf like me, but I promise I will do my best to make you happy here.”
She turned her face into his chest and buried it there. “You’re not an oaf,” she said into his ribs.
He blew out the lamp and kissed her hair. “Good night, angel.”
Chapter Three
Waking for the first time with his naked wife beside him made his staff so hard it tented his leggings. Just the smell of her skin would have been enough, but she looked so beautiful lying next to him. The tension in her face had disappeared and her long lashes fanned out on her cheeks, making her look as delicate as a flower. He slid his hand along her side, stroking down to her hip, then returning up to cup her breast.
She tensed.
He rubbed his thumb over her nipple until it stood up, then he pinched.
Daisy gave a surprised squeak.
He slid his hand down the flat plane of her belly until he reached the silky thatch of curls between her legs.
She pressed her thighs together, but he pried open her top knee.
“Leave them open,” he commanded, desire roughening his voice.
“Please, Sir Barrett—” she began as he slid his middle finger over her delicate folds. Her natural lubrication began to flow immediately and he spread it up and down her pleats while she gasped and jerked.
He began to circle her stiffened peak at the same time he bent his head and caught her nipple between his lips.
“Ah… ah,” she moaned, arching and contracting, shifting around in confusion.
“That restlessness is desire growing within you.”
She shook her head. “No, it is not,” she said breathlessly.
He began to penetrate her with one finger, pressing the heel of his hand firmly against her pleasure center all the while.
Daisy groaned.
“It is, little wife. You feel that sense of urgency. You think you want me to stop, but in fact, you want me to go on.”
“No—” she gasped.
He sucked her nipple hard, then released it, removing his hand from between her legs. “No?”
She let out another gasp and blinked up at him.
“I will not bring you to climax until you beg me to take you, the way a man takes his wife.”
She rolled away, her cheeks flushed. “I care not about climax,” she said in a shaky voice. She climbed out of the bed and snatched up her chemise, tugging it over her head as if she could not cover herself quickly enough.
“I will make you care,” he said. “And do not forget—I forbid you to touch your own quim. It is for me and me alone. I will most certainly punish any attempt on your part to pleasure yourself. Understand?”
She shook her head, then changed the motion to a nod.
“Answer me when I speak to you,” he said. “Or are you looking for more punishment?”
“Yes, sir. I mean no, sir,” she said, hurriedly stepping into her gown.
He walked over and took the laces from her trembling hands, cinching the bodice for her. He had the perfect view of her two ripe breasts, lifted and framed by the gown. He took his time tying a bow, his fingers brushing the creamy skin of the tops of her breasts.
Her lips twitched, her eyes darted about the room. He still smelled the scent of her nectar on his fingers and from her.
“Give me your hands.”
“What?” she asked, looking dismayed. “Why?”
“I still cannot trust you, love, especially outside of my locked chamber. I have to bind your wrists again.”
“Surely not. I have not attempted escape since you brought me here, nor have I threatened your life again.”
He smiled his most wicked smile. “I’m sorry, lady. You still have not earned my trust.”
She huffed, her jaw setting in a stubborn line.
He picked up her wrists and wrapped the same ribbon around them.
“Wait,” she said, trying to pull her hands away. “I—”
He raised his eyebrows when she stopped speaking. “Yes?”
Her face flushed crimson. “I need to use the chamber pot.”
His lips curled into a slow grin and he resumed the wrapping of ribbon. “Then you shall have to rely on me to help.”
Her jaw dropped. “No.”
He shrugged. “You have nothing to hide from me. You are my wife. You will bear my children. I will see and know every part of you in the most intimate of ways.”
She shuddered, beginning to look genuinely distressed.
“Come,” he said, tugging her bound wrists in the direction of the privy screen. Once there, he pulled up her skirts and balled them in a bunch in front of her. “Hold this,” he said, placing it in her restricted grasp. Holding her by the armpits, he tilted her backward, over the chamber pot.
She squeezed her eyelids shut, looking miserable. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes and gave him an adorable pleading look. “I cannot. Not with you here. Please leave me—”
“No,” he interrupted stubbornly. “This is your one chance to use the chamber pot. If I were you, I would take it, else you’ll be the laughing stock of the castle if you have an accident at the breakfast table.”
She cringed, then narrowed her eyes. “You are insufferable.”
He chuckled. “You’re not the first one to say so,” he said lightly.
She began to pee, and it took effort not to smirk.
“All finished?” he asked politely.
She made a huffing sound so he left her dangling over the pot. “Yes, I have finished,” she snapped.
“Yes, I have finished, sir?” he suggested.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I have finished, sir,” she said, glaring daggers.
He smirked and lifted her upright, helping her rearrange her skirts. “Come, my lady. Let us break the fast together.”
She sniffed, lifting her nose in the air and walking to the door, which, of course, she could not manage to open. He reached from behind her. “Allow me,” he said with a bow.
She made a grumbling sound in her throat and he popped her backside with the flat of his hand. “That’s enough, little wife.”
At the table, they wrestled once again over whether she would sit upon his lap.
“Still haven’t tamed her yet, Barrett?” one of the knights called out with a chuckle. Daisy shot him an angry look.
“I rather like her wild,” he admitted, pulling her firmly onto his knees and holding her captive with an arm around her waist. “Be good, little girl or I will lift your skirts and spank your naughty little bottom right here in the dining hall,” he warned in a low voice in her ear. “Believe me when I say it has been done before, and the men rather love the entertainment.”
* * *
Daisy wanted to spit in Barrett’s face. His games were not amusing. His treating her like a prisoner or a child incensed her.
“Good morning, brother,” Prince Erik said, looking at them with amused curiosity.
She found it interesting that he addressed him as brother, fully claiming their relationship.
“Good morning,” Barrett said with a grin. “Where do you want me today?”
“Well, it appears you have your hands full, but I’d like you to supervise the reconstruction of the south wall.”
He nodded. “Of course.” Returning his attention to her, he lifted the bowl of warm porridge to her lips.
She turned her face away. She would go hungry before she let him feed her again.
“Do you want that spanking here, Daisy?”
Her bottom automatically clenched at the word spanking, and hot tingles crawled across her cheeks as if he had already delivered a few stinging blows. Maddeningly, a drip of moisture caressed her folds, dampening her skirt below. Dearest virgin, what if it soaked through her skirts and he felt it on his thigh? She tried to shift, but he held her too close to move.
Why did he have this effect on her? She’d become all quivery, her body trembling, her breath short. She would never forgive him if he spanked her in public. His ability to stir such responses angered her further. She pressed her lips together to keep from snapping that she hated him.
He lifted the bowl again.
She had no choice but to drink from it.
“Good girl,” he said.
Her sex pulsed. She watched the bowl approach, as if in slow motion. Her rational self tried to stop the impulse, but it was too late. She shocked them both by sinking her teeth into the meat of his thumb, cutting through skin and tasting blood. She released it as quickly as her jaws had snapped, and looked at him in horror, knowing she’d just gone too far.
He had jerked in surprise, slopping porridge down the front of her dress, but strangely, he made no sound—no roar of surprise, no angry tirade.
She waited, trembling like a leaf, for him to upend her in front of the entire castle and give her the promised public spanking. Had that been her goal? Impossible—it was too horrible to even contemplate. And yet, if not, why had she baited the bear, so to speak? Perhaps she’d lost her mind.
Her stomach twisted in knots and her palms sweated. Her sex seeped moisture, somehow not understanding she was in real trouble now.
“I’m sorry,” she attempted, knowing his punishment would be severe.
Without a word, he lifted her off his lap and stood, propelling her to the stairs and up to his chamber.
She stood, wringing her hands as he shut the door. “Forgive me, Barrett—sir… my lord,” she tried again.
She saw a glimmer of a smile on his lips and her heart picked up speed. He pointed to the bed. “Bend over and lift your skirts.”
She walked, weak-kneed to the bed and folded her torso over the feather mattress. She could not figure out any way to lift her skirts with her wrists tied, but she made a show of attempting it so he would not think her disobedient.
“I’ll get them,” he said behind her.
She twisted to look over her shoulder and saw he carried a riding crop. Leaping back to her feet, she whirled. “Is-is that truly necessary? I mean, could you not bend me over your lap and use your hand as you did before?”
He tapped the crop in his palm. “I would love to, but it takes quite a bit more time to make an impression that way, and my brother needs me outside today.”
She shivered. I would love to. He probably did love spanking her. And yet he was not a cruel man. What could it mean?
He turned her and pushed her upper back down to lay on the bed, throwing her skirts up over her head. “Eight strokes for biting. You will count each one.” Before she had a chance to draw a breath, he delivered the first searing stroke.
She squealed and stood on her tiptoes, squeezing her bottom cheeks together, tucking her tail like a naughty dog.
“I asked you to count them,” he reminded her.
“One,” she gasped.
He landed another one. “One, sir,” he corrected.
“One, sir, two, sir,” she said quickly, hoping he hadn’t meant for her to repeat number one.
He chuckled. “I’ll let you get away with that just this once.” He brought the crop down again.
She gasped. A terrible burn from the first welt had begun to set in, even as the shock of the third ricocheted through her body. “Three, sir,” she managed.
“Good girl,” he murmured, though she did not know what merited the praise.
He sliced the crop through the air three times quickly, making her clamp her mouth closed on a scream. Without thinking, she started to scramble away, onto the bed.
“Daisy,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Back in position.”
“Four, five, and six, sir,” she said as soon as she had caught her breath. Reluctantly, she pushed her legs back down to present her bottom for his chastisement. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“We’re almost finished,” he said, applying the cruel leather rod on a diagonal across her buttocks.
“Seven! Seven, sir.”
“One more.” He caught her on the underside of her buttocks, right where cheek met thigh.
She lifted to her toes again, sucking in her breath. It was three long beats before she could speak. “Eight, sir.”
“Thank you, Daisy,” he said, his voice soft and gentle.
She didn’t wish to
remain bent over with her naked, striped arse on display, nor did any part of her want to move.
Barrett appeared behind her and she tensed. He began to rub her buttocks firmly, spreading the localized pain of her welts to the whole of her bottom. Her flesh blazed with stinging heat and though she had disliked his touch at first, it began to ease the intensity of the whipping. It also caused those strange spiraling sensations to swirl in her stomach and a pulsing to begin in her sex. She hated to admit it, but some part of her might actually like the overbearing way he handled her. Had she wanted to be spanked? Impossible.
He lifted her to stand, tossing her skirts down and brushing her hair away from her face. “Eight licks and not a tear. I knew you were brave,” he said, although he sounded a bit sad, as though it had pained him to whip her. “I can lock you in my chamber for the day or you can come outside with me, but I can’t allow you free rein to roam about the castle on your own.”
“I’ll come outside with you,” she said immediately. The idea of being locked alone in his chamber all day frightened her.
He looked surprised, but pleased. Picking up her cloak, he wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening it at the throat. “You will have to behave or you’ll get the crop again, and I don’t imagine your poor bottom could take that,” he said, reaching behind her and giving her throbbing backside a squeeze that pulled her body against his.
She meant to push him away, except her legs did not hold her and she fell against him. He wrapped strong arms around her and held her close. She should not cling to him like a child who needed reassurance, except she did, actually, crave something from him. She lifted her face, not knowing what she would say, and to her dismay, her eyes filled with tears.
One spilled and he brushed it away, peering down at her with kindness. “My intent is not to break you, Lady Daisy. Only to gain your cooperation.”
More tears spilled. She had never cried so much in front of another person, at least, not that she could remember. Not even after she’d fled to Hohenzollern. And yet, he did not seem alarmed by her weeping. Rather, he seemed to accept the tears as his tribute and wiped them away with his thumbs.