She curtsied again. “I am Daisy. I have been serving as lady-in-waiting to Princess Susanna of Hohenzollern.”
“Welcome to Rothburg. Sir Barrett has had you so… occupied. Are you all right?” she asked, peering into her face.
She felt the stares of all the women, and blushed. “Yes, my lady.”
“Sir Barrett has not treated you with the chivalry he is usually known for,” Annika said, speaking slowly as if choosing her words carefully. She glanced at the other ladies.
“But it’s plain he is quite taken with you,” Greta added quickly. She was the same lady who had told her Sir Barrett was not a complete ogre the day before.
“Yes, yes, I agree. It is wonderful to see him so engaged with a lady—unusual for him,” Elsa said.
“Does he not… has he courted any ladies before?” She didn’t know what compelled her to ask, because she definitely did not want to hear the answer. Her body tensed, her fingernails pressing into the flesh of her palms.
“No, not since I’ve been here,” Annika said, looking to Ute.
“Never,” Ute said definitively. “He probably didn’t think any would have him, since he’s a basta—” She stopped when the rest of the ladies gave her warning looks.
Daisy drew herself up, heat suffusing her face. “I don’t care one whit about the legitimacy of his birth,” she declared. “I am proud to be his wife.” She lifted her chin, daring one of them to say he was unworthy.
Annika darted forward and grasped her hand, tugging her to a chair beside her. “Sir Barrett is a brave and noble knight, well-deserving of a well-bred wife like you. Please take no offense. Rothburg has its hierarchies like all castles. Sometimes it is easier to find a mate elsewhere, as he has.”
Her cheeks still burned, but when she searched the princess’ words, she could not find any offense, so she let it go.
Chapter Six
The blizzard came out of nowhere. It had been cloudy, yes, but she hadn’t felt this storm coming. She needed to get back to the castle immediately or she could be lost out in the woods. This was the kind of storm where men became disoriented, freezing to death only to be discovered a mere twenty yards from a building.
She grasped the four white rabbits she’d trapped and ran through the snow, the cold air burning her lungs and making her chest ache. The path would be lost soon, but she wasn’t far. She had only walked a half mile or so, if she remembered correctly. She picked up her speed even more, the toes of her boots sliding out behind her with each step. Almost there, almost there.
Thank God—she thought she saw the castle up ahead. Which meant she must be out of the woods. The snow blew too hard to even see the trees. She’d come out to trap, with the idea of sewing rabbit fur into the collar of Sir Barrett and Penrod’s cloaks. She made a poor wife in terms of weaving, but the fur would set them apart, give them something special.
Why hadn’t she told anyone where she was going? If she got lost out here, no one would even know where to look. Not that she would want them to risk their lives over her stupidity. She tripped and fell into the snow, the icy flakes searing her face. Cursing, she struggled to her feet and ran on. Yes, that must be the castle up ahead.
She reached the gates just as a rider tore out of them at a breakneck speed. He must have seen her because he turned the stallion sharply in her direction, causing him to rear and whinny.
Barrett.
He had come for her. Relief, gratitude, and fear poured from her in equal measures. His destrier galloped toward her, not slowing in the least. Was it him? As he passed her, he bent down and caught her about the waist, wrenching a choked scream from her throat. She clung to the rabbits and he set her on one knee, guiding his horse in a circle and back through the gates.
He didn’t say a word.
She had no breath to speak, but if she did, she would not have known what to say to him. She teetered precariously on his knee, supported only by the strength of his arm. She did not dare steal a glance at his face, but she could feel anger pouring off him in waves. He rode the horse straight up to the castle doors and dropped her to her feet.
“Wait for me in our chamber,” he said tersely.
She rushed forward, not looking back, her heart thundering in her chest. She thought to give the rabbits to Penrod to take to the kitchen, but she did not think she could manage a conversation. Instead, she removed her wet cloak and boots and carried everything up the stairs with her. She did not have to wait long.
Barrett burst in the room, his dark eyes flashing. He looked every part his namesake: a great, growling bear—vicious and terrifying in his huge stature. She stepped quickly back, but he closed the distance between them and swept her off her feet, carrying her to the edge of the bed, where he sat and plopped her over his lap.
He began to spank her immediately, one hand tugging up her skirts, while the other already lit into her.
She tried to lie still, not wanting to further anger him, but her body had a mind of its own, jerking and wriggling under the punishing blows. By the time he had bared her bottom, the cold numbness in her buttocks had worn off, replaced by terrible, hot pins and needles.
“Ahh… ah,” she grunted. “Oh.”
“What were you thinking?” he demanded, speaking at last, but not pausing in his spanking, even for an instant.
“I didn’t know it would storm,” she protested, squeezing her eyes shut. The pins and needles were easing and now her entire bottom blazed.
“Did you ask my permission to leave the castle?”
“No, sir,” she said. Tears choked her throat, threatening to spill.
“Why not?” he demanded.
Though he’d surely seen the rabbits, she still did not want to spoil the surprise. She did not answer.
He spanked even harder, his huge hand like a wooden paddle, punishing her poor bottom with each heavy blow. “I asked, why not?” When she still did not answer, he picked her up from his lap and set her on her feet, giving her a shove toward the wall. “Stand in the corner,” he barked.
She tripped, scurrying away from him. She’d never been made to stand in a corner before, and she didn’t think it would be worse than the spanking she had just received, but it was.
“Keep your skirts lifted to show me your naughty bottom. I am not nearly through with you,” he growled.
She picked up her skirts and bowed her head, unable to stop the tears that had been threatening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Barrett bury his head in his hands, looking defeated. She felt even worse. She sniffed and his head jerked up, as if in surprise.
“Daisy,” he said, his voice much softer. “Come here, love.”
Fresh tears streaked her face at the endearment. He couldn’t be so angry anymore, if he called her ‘love.’ She walked to stand before him, still holding her skirts up, as he’d ordered.
“Forgive me for my temper,” he said heavily. “I was afraid for you, that’s all.” He reached out and grasped her hips, pulling her closer. “Come here. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You didn’t scare me,” she lied.
A flick of his eyebrows showed he knew the truth. “Well, you scared me. I forbid you to leave the castle walls without permission. Ever. Do you understand me?”
She nodded, swallowing back a fresh wave of tears. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
“I’m going to give you the worst strapping of your life.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured. She hardly cared about the punishment, although she knew it would be awful. Her only concern was to make things right between them again. What could she offer him, except four dead rabbits?
* * *
Daisy slowly lowered herself to her knees at his feet, surprising him with her humility. When she reached for his manhood, his surprise turned to shock.
He ought to stop her. It was wrong of her to try to distract him from her punishment this way, but curiosity and desire got the better of him.
She palmed his cock through
She leaned her face forward and gingerly stuck out her tongue.
His cock surged with excitement just to see her intent. He resisted the urge to grab the back of her head and thrust in like she was a serving wench. Instead, he waited, holding his breath and watching as she flicked her tongue on the rim of his penis. After a just a few such flicks, his breath grew ragged. She lifted her eyes to him, her tear-stained cheeks flushed with color.
“Take him in your mouth,” he muttered, his voice rough.
She opened her lips wider and accepted his length, looking uncertain.
“That’s it,” he said. “Keep going, Daisy, it feels so good.”
She seemed encouraged by his words and picked up speed, sliding her mouth up and down his length. She didn’t take him very deep, but he didn’t mind. He wanted it to last forever, but he also wanted her first time to be easy. When she came off and looked at him uncertainly, he covered his fist around hers, pumping.
“Stick out your tongue,” he grunted. She obeyed, and he pressed the head of his cock against it while he slid her hand up and down his length. “Open your bodice,” he ordered.
She fumbled with the laces as he continued rubbing the head of his cock against her tongue. When she pulled open the front of her dress, he came, decorating her breasts with his seed.
She looked down at his artistry, confused, and he pulled her up to his lap and wiped it off with his sleeve. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her.
“I didn’t know what had happened to you,” he said, regretting his temper. “No one knew where you’d gone. I feared you’d run away, and I knew you wouldn’t live through that storm.” A muscle twitched under his eye.
She lifted her hand to touch his cheek.
“Were you running away?” he asked, his voice cracking. He had to know.
“No,” she said immediately. “I went trapping, that’s all. I didn’t feel the storm coming—I’m sorry.”
“You should have asked me first,” he said.
She dropped her eyes, and didn’t answer. The third time she hadn’t answered him.
He cupped her chin and lifted it. “Were you afraid I would say no?”
“I wanted to go alone,” she said, looking away.
His heart thumped in his chest, though he hardly knew what he feared. She kept something from him, though, and it bothered him. “Why?” he demanded.
She fidgeted with her skirt, then her shoulders sagged and she looked up. “I wanted the rabbit fur to line your cloak. I’m a terrible weaver—”
He cut her off by smashing his lips against hers, claiming her mouth with a bruising ferocity. He yanked her dress off her, then the chemise. Now he had forgotten her punishment, his love pouring out in a passion that would not wait. Standing, he picked her up and placed her in the center of the bed. He ripped off his own clothes and nudged her legs apart, settling between them. His cock nestled between her legs, and he caressed her with it, gliding his hardening shaft along her moistened slit. She stared up at him, her eyes wide but trusting.
“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…
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