Carolyn, who had been standing near the door, watching had been doing the same—stepping first out of her heels and nylons, and tossing his suit jacket over the back of a nearby chair. All the while, her eyes never left his face. Until the belt hit the bed beside him. She stopped suddenly, the smile left her face and she went white as a sheet. Slowly, she began to back up. Oh, hell.
“Tell me about Filmore, Carolyn.”
“Well, that’s about the least sexy thing you could say on your wedding night,” she joked, trying to act as if her heart wasn’t in her throat. She was striving for a sense of normalcy, but she'd been in a frenzy since the moment Luke had taken off his belt and tossed it on the bed.
“We have the rest of our lives to whisper sexy nothings to each other. In the meantime, you’re white as a ghost staring at an inanimate object like it’s about to jump up and bite you at any moment.”
Forcing herself to meet his gaze, Carolyn swallowed. “I don’t like belts.” She licked her dry lips nervously before continuing in a rush. “And you said I was in trouble, and I knew I probably would be, and I thought I was okay with it, but then you took off your belt and now I’m not so sure.”
“I’m not going to use my belt on you, Carolyn.” Lucas quickly stood and began walking toward her as he spoke.
“You’re not?”
“I hadn’t planned on it tonight, and watching the way you just reacted, I’m quite sure I never will. It’s okay to have limits, sweetheart.” He reached her, taking his face in her hands, and she melted. It was the first time he had ever called her by something other than her name.
“I don’t want to talk about Filmore, Lucas. I’ve worked hard to put that behind me for the most part, and I don’t want you to know about my past, or where I come from, because then you’ll know how broken I really am.”
“You’re not broken though, baby. You’re amazing and strong and sexy, and smart, and knowing where you came from makes you all the more so.”
“You don’t know though!”
Lucas pulled back quickly, and stared at her, his face a mask of confusion. “Carolyn, I’ve been to Filmore. I spent an entire summer there right after seminary.”
“No.” Carolyn shook her head emphatically. She didn’t want to hear this.
“Yes. I did an internship there.”
“Was he there?”
“He? The prophet? No. They told me he was ill, but it turned out he was hiding from the feds, not that it did any good. He was caught and arrested during my second week there. He’s in jail now, Carolyn, and you’re safe.”
She knew she looked crazy—her whole body was shaking. She knew she was safe, but she knew that soon her mothers and sister wouldn’t be, so she didn’t feel safe.
“Shh, baby, relax,” Lucas whispered, gathering her into his arms. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, but I do need to know what happened, so I can understand what things might set you off. I don’t want to be the cause of that panicked look ever again.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay, okay, shh.” He drew her closer, kissing the top of her head and stroking her back as he tried to calm her. “I get that you’re scared, and I get that it’s hard, but I need to know. So here is what is going to happen, okay?” He paused, and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her wordless consent before continuing.
“I’m going to pick you up, and we’re going to go lie down on the bed. I’m going to hold you, and while I’m holding you, I’m going to tell you about my time in Filmore. If you feel like you want to add something you can, and if I ask you a question, you need to answer, but I will try to keep the questions to a minimum.”
Carolyn agreed cautiously, smiling when Lucas scooped her up and carried her across the room, laying her carefully on the king-sized bed, before laying down beside her, and pulling her close, so that their bodies were touching as they lay face to face.
He was being so sweet, and gentle and caring, and doing everything he could to make her feel safe and cared for. It helped a lot. Gazing at him, she drew a shaky breath. “Okay, Lucas, tell me about your time in Filmore.”
“Honestly,” Lucas began, “I’m not sure why I was chosen to go to Filmore, or what I was supposed to do there, because it quickly became clear that the people needed my help, but that they didn’t want and wouldn't accept it. No matter who I tried to help, or what I tried to help them with, I was stonewalled at every turn. The only question most people wanted to ask me was when their beloved prophet was coming back. All they ever told me was how misunderstood he was, how he was trying to make them better, and how blessed they were to be chosen for his favor.” Lucas scoffed. “It wasn’t until I gave up trying to help, and spent my time in the south as more of a tourist, and ventured into neighboring towns did I began to learn what these things really meant, and it was heart-breaking, stomach turning stuff. But unfortunately, if people don’t want to be helped, there’s not a lot you can do to help them. Basically, I spent the better part of three months twiddling my thumbs watching an entire community of people suffer for the favor of a man who thought he was God.” Luke’s voice cracked on the last word, and Carolyn watched as his eyes welled with tears. “He was closer to being the devil if you ask me.”
It was clear to Carolyn that Lucas had been very much affected by the experience, and she almost felt sorrier for him, coming in as an outsider, seeing the pain and suffering and cult-like devotion, and being able to do nothing but watch.
“Who beat you, Carolyn? Was it the prophet or someone else?”
“The prophet,” she confirmed, mumbling into his chest. “It was always the prophet.”
“With a belt, I take it?”
“A big rawhide one,” Carolyn answered, fighting the waves of shame threatening to overcome her at the memories.
Her husband's jaw was twitching in anger, and she could tell he was holding something back, but his next question shocked the hell out of her for a moment. Lucas wasn’t pulling any punches in getting to the full story.
“Was the abuse purely physical? Or was it sexual also?” Lucas looked pained, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer and he was bracing himself for bad news.
“It could have been,” Carolyn admitted carefully, inwardly cringing at the thought of how close it had been. “It wasn’t uncommon. We were supposed to be grateful to be the prophet's blessed chosen ones, like it was a gift that he wanted to force himself on us. That’s the mentality.” Sighing heavily at the memory, Carolyn forced herself to press on through this part of the story. The ending was a happy one, relatively speaking. “I guess I never really fit in, because no matter how many times the ideas were drilled or literally beaten into me, I never really believed them.”
Lucas nodded gravely. “Thank God for that. So you were lucky then? You weren’t one of the so-called chosen ones?”
“Oh, I was. I mean, he told me I was. And he touched me once after a particularly nasty beating. He called it my redemption. I didn’t want redemption from the likes of him, and I tend to act on impulse most of the time.” Carolyn trailed off, giggling at the memory while Lucas peered at her suspiciously.
“What did you do?”
“Well, I kneed him in the nuts, of course! And while he was recovering I ran to the kitchen for a cast iron skillet and smacked him on the back of the head with it, not hard enough to kill him, I just wanted to knock him out. When he went down, I stomped on the family jewels a few more times for good measure.”
Lucas sat upright in the bed with a jolt. “I heard that story!” he yelled. “That was you?”
“Yup. I’m a pariah.”
“Maybe to them. To me you were a legend. And whose opinion is the one that matters anyway,” he teased, leaning in to kiss her softly.
“Hmm. I don’t know, let me think,” she teased back.
“Brat.”
“Yeah,” Carolyn replied softly feeling a bit melancholy. She had mixed reactions about the chain of even
ts that had ultimately led her here sometimes, but Luke’s reaction had made her feel good. “Have I answered all your questions? Can we be done talking about Filmore now?”
“Just about. I have one more question, but it’s not entirely Filmore related.”
“Okay.”
“I’m a spanking man. And you are owed a spanking. But, I really need to know, after everything you have been through, can you be okay with it?”
“Yes. I think. I want to try, because I know it means a lot to you, and I do actually feel kind of guilty about the dress. I wasn’t completely ignorant to the practice either. I knew it was a thing that would probably happen. I understand the differences, and most importantly, I trust you, Lucas.”
“Phew!” Lucas wiped his brow playfully, and winked at her. “I’m glad you feel that way, because if you had a real problem with it, I would respect that, and try to work with it, but it would be hard for me, because I really do believe in domestic discipline and the benefits it can have in a relationship. A spanking is supposed to hurt, Carolyn. It won’t be pleasant, but if you start to feel panicked or anxious or anything other than pain and remorse, I want you to stop me immediately, understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her response was a breathy whisper that had her husband beaming.
Lucas scooted to the edge of the bed, and patted his lap. “Okay, Mrs. Miller. You were naughty and disobedient, and you earned yourself a nice long bare bottom spanking. Are you ready to find out what it's really like to be the bishop’s wife?”
To be perfectly honest, Lucas was nervous. His palms were sweating and his heart was beating a mile a minute. This was way more pressure than the first time he had spanked Rosa, which ironically had been the first time he had spanked anyone.
Carolyn dove over his lap. She had long since ditched the heels and pantyhose, but she was still wearing the compromising dress. He left it in place for now. He planned on taking this slow.
“Okay, Carolyn, tell me why you are getting a spanking.”
She squirmed at his directness and he smiled. In his experience, which admittedly was little, women hated to be asked that, especially when they were already bent over your knee in a prone position. But that was exactly why it worked.
“Because you gave me reasonable rules and expectations for how you needed a bishop’s wife to dress.”
It was a good answer. Quite impressive actually. Usually Rosa tended to be a bit snarky and sassy with her responses before the spanking actually started. After was a different story entirely.
“And what were those rules, exactly?” His hand came to rest on the lace, still keeping several layers of fabric between his hand and her bottom.
“Um… knee length, modest necklines, and nothing sleeveless.”
“And did you forget?”
“No, Sir.”
Lucas chose that moment to slowly lift the layers of her skirt—folding them to rest across her back. Now the only thing between his hand and her ass was a thin layer of white satin.
“So you made the decision to disobey, then?”
“Oh,” Carolyn squealed a bit, as if she was beginning to get this picture as to how this was really going to go for her. “Yes, Sir.”
“In my home—excuse me—our home, my dear wife, you will learn that there are firm consequences when one chooses to disobey.” With that, he unceremoniously tugged down her panties, not stopping until they lay on the floor near his feet.
The first time his new wife's pert white bottom came into view, Luke sat back and let out a low whistle. He was a man dedicated to the task before him, but that didn't mean he couldn't take a few minutes to enjoy the view before he set to work making those sweet heart shaped cheeks glow red.
Carolyn squirmed under his gaze and he smiled. Surprisingly, she did have a vulnerable modest side. Lucas caressed her bottom softly, stopping to squeeze the fleshy sit spots where he would implement the majority of his lesson.
“Lucas,” his wife moaned. “I thought you were going to spank me.”
“Oh, I am, darling.” Figuring he had built up the anticipation long enough, he lifted his hand above his shoulder. “I do not make arbitrary rules, Carolyn. When I make a rule, I expect it to be followed. If it is not, your pretty little bottom will pay the price.” On the last word, his hand met her bottom with a resounding smack the echoed off the walls of the small room. Her breath left her in a small hiss of pain, but she remained calm.
The first swat was followed quickly by three more in fast succession. He was intent on his task, watching the skin pinken under his own hand, admiring the way her bottom bounced under the force of the smacks. But that wasn’t all he was watching. He was on high alert, watching her body for tensing—signs of panic—tracking the pattern of her breathing and listening for sounds of panic rather than pain.
After the first four, noticing no signs of distress other than the usual soft squeals of pain, he laid down a good dozen more hard and slow swats across the fleshiest uppermost part of her bottom, before pausing.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, Lucas,” her voice was tense and breathy, but she managed to toss back her head and attempt a shaky smile in his direction. “It hurts.”
“It’s supposed to hurt, darling. The goal is to teach you a lesson that you remember long into the future. I want you to think about every morning when you dress for the day. I want you to remember what it feels like to be laying across my lap with your bare bottom on display, receiving a long hard spanking as punishment for your disobedience.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.” She looked and sounded as if she had more to say, but she turned her head back to the bedspread once again, and settled her face in the crook of her arms. The muscles in her back tightened slightly as she braced herself for him to continue.
He was quick to oblige, adjusting his aim so that the onslaught of rapid fire swats fell across the tender crease where her bottom and thighs met. She was wiggling and squealing softly with each and every swat, but she didn’t seem to be in any unreasonable amount of distress besides what he would consider normal for a naughty girl being spanked by her husband for the first time.
Satisfied that she could handle it, he picked up the pace, and began to swat harder, lecturing intermittently as he went—punctuating his reminders with fresh sets of swats each time, until her bottom was glowing red and she had given in to soft sobs interspersed with desperate cries of apology and promises to behave in the future.
Satisfied that he had imparted a memorable lesson, and that they had successfully overcome what he considered a giant hurdle in their relationship, Lucas stopped and began to rub her back, whispering words of comfort as her sobs died down to hiccups.
“Shh, baby. It’s over. It’s done. All is forgiven.” On the last word, Carolyn let out a shuddering sigh, and scrambled into a sitting position on his lap, wincing as her bottom made contact.
“That was my dream dress,” she told him tearfully. “The one I have wanted since I was a little girl, and I don’t regret it. It was something I had to do for me, even knowing the likelihood of this exact result. It wasn’t an act of rebellion; it was just something I had to do. I promise that I will follow your guidelines from here on out.”
Her admission, and the implications behind it made Lucas’ heart swell with pride for this beautiful young woman whose life had been filled with so much pain and heartache, as he silently vowed to spend the rest of his life protecting her and helping her heal. He thought she might be the strongest, bravest person he had ever known.
“Thank you for telling me that.” Gently wiping the tear tracks from her face, he caught her chin in the crook of his finger, and tilted her face upwards before laying a soft kiss upon her lips. “Are you okay?”
Carolyn uttered a weak laugh through her tears. “I am actually. It hurt, and it sucked, but it was entirely different to be spanked on the bottom by someone you trust while hearing words of love and affirmation and expectation than it is to be b
eaten with a belt by someone who is screaming about demons and retribution.”
Lucas rubbed the bridge or his nose and managed to offer his wife a weak smile, even though smiling was the last thing he felt like doing. Closing his eyes to ward off the images plaguing him, he sighed deeply. This was harder than he had imagined.
“I’m glad the two weren’t comparable. I don’t think I could live with myself if I had somehow triggered you.”
His eyes were still closed when she grabbed his face, one hand on each cheek, and forced him to look at her. “Lucas, I’m okay. I’m better than okay. I’m wonderful. I made it through, and I got it over with and I don't have to wonder. I learned a few things too. I learned that I can fully trust you. I mean, I knew I could, but now I truly know what that feels like.”
He managed a small smile of encouragement. “Go on.”
“I feel really loved, and cherished and safe, and I don’t know why that is. I can’t explain it; I just know that it means something.”
Nodding, Lucas felt the lump in his throat disintegrate. “That’s a pretty normal reaction. I’m glad you feel safe, and cherished and loved, because you are all those things.” As he said the words, he realized that he meant them. Carolyn was a handful, and she might not have been his choice, but she was God’s choice, and God seemed to know what he was doing.
“There’s one more thing,” Carolyn said shyly. “Submitting to your discipline is part of being married to you. So, I’m glad I could do it. I’m not sure it will always be as easy, or that I will always do well at it, but I’m glad to know I can.”
“I’m glad to,” Lucas’ smile grew as he scooped up his new bride with a lecherous wink. “Now, let me show you another part of being married to me.”
Carolyn squealed and he tossed her onto the bed, wincing slightly as her backside made contact with the scratchy fabric of a hotel comforter. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”
Chapter 9
Luke's Rogue Bride Page 9