She waggled her bottom to his amusement and whispered, “No... no, Sir,” in response. Frederic was pleased. The young lady knew to answer when she’d been spoken to and was being respectful, even under these trying circumstances. He lowered his head and began once again to trail his lips along the more pronounced welts.
Cassandra could not keep quiet. She had to know. “My... my husband?” she asked with trepidation.
Frederic once again raised his head and replied “Yes, my Dear?”
“The collection in your study - the canes, the strap, the switches. I could not help notice. What is it all for?”
Frederic smiled, delighted that she’d asked. He’d noticed her studying his implements with morbid fascination.
“They are to keep domestic order, darling girl. If a servant misbehaves they must be corrected and if a naughty wife should misbehave she too will bow for correction. Don’t worry, darling. When circumstances merit correction, I may allow you to choose which one you’d like to have me use upon you.
Cassandra’s voice trembled. “I will strive not to displease you, my Lord so that I will not become acquainted with any of those items.”
Frederic chuckled and patted her on the flank. “That is not hardly possible, my darling. I can be a rather strict taskmaster and have many rules in place that are not to be broken. I am certain that you will learn at least some of those rules the hard way.” He grinned as she moaned at this and gave a wriggle. He began to stroke her flank.
“There, there. Settle down my little filly. Don’t worry; I will be gentle with you.” Frederic’s new wife was indeed a Thoroughbred - skittish and highly-strung. He knew that this one would require a lot of stroking but would no doubt soon be eating out of his hand. He’d had her lineage traced when he first noticed her at the tea and found out that she was descended from Henry VIII himself and further back to Charlemagne. In some ways she was more royal, more British, than Queen Victoria herself.
Frederic inserted his tongue in her cunny and tasted her cream. She had become quite stimulated by the discussion of her naughtiness and the resultant punishment, not to mention his collection of implements. She tasted exquisite. Frederic raised his head and tapped her most private opening and she gasped.
“Here too, my love, here too I will one day claim you and make you mine.” He slowly entered her love tunnel, leaving the other opening for another time. Cassandra rose to her knees. “Remember your hands, Cassandra. Don’t let go of the headboard.” He grabbed her breasts from behind and began to knead them as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Cassandra moaned and pushed back against him over and over, enjoying the friction igniting between them. She began to pant as he reached around front and slid his fingers on either side of her clit rubbing it in the copious juices that were escaping around his shaft as he drove into her. Cassandra threw her head back and screamed out her pleasure, which triggered his release and he fell on top of her.
Cassandra spoke in a shaky voice. “I would say our marriage is well consummated, would you agree my Lord?” Frederic again laughed as he nuzzled his little wife’s neck.
“I would whole heartedly concur, my love. There is no doubt; you are really and truly mine.”
Chapter 7
Two weeks later Cassandra sat her in London home looking out the window. She longed for something to do. She was happy enough in her marriage. She and her new husband spent a great deal of time in his rooms exploring the ways of love. There may not have been a wedding trip but they were definitely on a honeymoon. She sighed with contentment. She was enjoying getting to know this man she’d been bound to for all time and eternity. His predictability had become a lifeline to her. She knew his morning routine and what time he liked to eat and then leave the house. She knew approximately when he’d return. When he walked into the house at the end of the workday, her heart would soar as she looked into his amazing eyes.
She had come to trust his even temperament. He was not volatile, unlike her father, and so far he had shown an amazing amount of patience with her moods. Her ups and downs did not seem to create even a wave in his calm demeanor. They were actually very well suited to one another, truth be told, although she’d never admit that to her father.
It was the time alone while he was gone during the day that she struggled with. She’d read the few books in the “library” – a bookcase in his study - that were in English. Most were in German. She had a tutor who came daily to teach her German and the history of Bavaria but it was slow going. She did not have a natural aptitude for languages. She struggled with the accent and was slowly but surely memorizing words. But she feared she’d give a terrible showing when they reached home. She was certain that everyone in her new life would think her ignorant and laugh at her.
Her husband ran a rather tight household and she was not needed much. At first she’d kept busy with the needlework project she’d brought from home, but it was quickly and efficiently finished. Perhaps if she had some more needlework or learned to crochet, that would be a constructive use of her time. She could embroider pillowcases or sew her husband’s shirts. She didn’t want to spend any money though. Their life was far from lavish. Frederic had never produced wedding rings and there was no talk of a wedding trip. They frequently ate leftovers. She would just have to adjust to life with little pocket money. She’d had a trust fund of her own left to her by her grandmother but she supposed her father had given it to her husband as part of her dowry. There was no way to get to it without going through her husband or her father. She would not have wanted to squander it for spending money anyway. She would prefer to invest it sensibly. Cassandra sighed, and then had an idea. Perhaps she could ask her tutor if she had any unfinished craft projects that she could help her finish.
More and more frequently the butler would appear at her elbow with calling cards. She instructed him to turn away all callers. She was not interested in opening her life up to gossipmongers, and really she had no answers for the questions they would ask. She had no amusing stories about how she met her husband, nor fancy wedding rings to show off. She was not about to disclose the details of her hurried little wedding and was embarrassed to admit that there had been no wedding trip. She certainly did not wish to discuss her brother’s upcoming wedding.
Then the day came when Helmut stood at her elbow anxiously explaining that the callers were her mother and her brother. Cassandra was puzzled. Her parents had wanted her out of the way and she had strived to remain so, so why were they attempting to keep in touch? She suspected it had something to do with her brother’s wedding. It would be socially awkward if she did not attend. Perhaps they should have thought of that before they banished her to a foreign country. Oh well, soon people would forget she was still in residence in London and then she really would be gone to live in Bavaria. Everyone in her parent’s social circle would forget that there had even been a fifth child at one time.
She instructed Helmut to turn them away with the explanation the Baroness was not accepting callers. Helmut would soon learn that she was especially trying to avoid her family members. As far as Cassandra was concerned, her future lay in Bavaria at her husband’s side. She would reside with his family and in time they would make new friends, married couple friends.
Cassandra thought little more of the matter until Frederic called her into his study one evening after dinner. This was ominous; usually he sat with her in the parlor and enjoyed crudités and wine before dinner. She was nervous as she climbed the stairs. What had she done wrong? She wracked her brain but her conscience was clear. She’d strived to please her demanding spouse.
She knocked on the door and he called to her to enter. She walked into the room and found him sitting behind his desk. As she nervously stood before him, she tried not to stare at the cane collection on the wall behind his head. She hoped she would never be called upon to select one of those to be used on her tender posterior. Her bottom had only just fully healed from her pre-wedding birching.
“My darlin
g,” he began. “It has been brought to my attention that you are not accepting callers. May I ask why?”
“Who... who told you that?” Cassandra had never suffered from a stammer before, but her husband could be quite intimidating.
“That is not the question here, my wife. The question is why are you not accepting callers, even your own family?”
It was her family! Her blasted father must have told her husband that she’d sent away her mother and her brother. Now she’d been put into a most difficult position of honestly telling her husband why she didn’t want to take callers.
“I... I...” her hands began to twist in her skirt and her cheeks developed two red spots. “I am trying to put my past behind me, my husband. I am looking to the future, to our life in Bavaria.”
“We are not returning to Germany for several months, Cassandra. And we will return to London often as I attend to business matters. It would behoove you to maintain your friendships and to foster good relations with your family here. Also, you must realize that it shames and upsets your family when you refuse to see them.”
“I owe nothing to my family!” She was angry now and stomped her foot.
Frederic raised one eyebrow. He did not appreciate this show of temper that his little wife was exhibiting in his presence. “I have accepted a dinner invitation. We will be going to your family home for dinner this very evening.”
Cassandra felt her anger begin to build. “I would appreciate your not accepting invitations on my behalf without consulting with me first. You will have to go dine alone. I have no intention of ever, ever setting foot in my family home again.”
Frederic was taken aback. He knew that Cassandra had left home on their wedding day under less than ideal circumstances but he didn’t realize that the situation was this dire. He would question her carefully and get to the bottom of this but first she needed a reminder of who was the boss in this household.
“Cassandra, you will obey me and accompany me to your parent’s house this evening.”
“I won’t!” she cried and turned and ran from the study. Frederic was appalled. He had not dismissed her. She had thrown what amounted to a temper tantrum, even raising her voice to him. She would have to learn that this kind of behavior was not at all acceptable. He preferred to correct her in the privacy of his study, which was in a part of the house rarely visited by servants. However, if she preferred to be disciplined in her bedroom where various servants would be within earshot, he would be glad to oblige.
He chose a small, wispy cane and swished it through the air experimentally. He had last used this cane on a naughty parlor maid who had ruined a fine table by using the wrong cleaning solution. The little maid had been scarlet with shame as she’d been ordered to bare herself to her employer and bend for correction and she’d squealed and wriggled about like a little piglet as he’d laid down her stripes. It had been most satisfactory, and she hadn’t made any careless mistakes like that again.
He tapped the cane against his leg as he headed downstairs to his wife’s suite of rooms. Cassandra turned when he walked in, shocked that he’d entered without knocking. Liesl curtseyed and her eyes widened as she spied the cane her master was carrying.
“Undress your mistress, Liesl.” The maid nodded and began to unfasten Cassandra’s clothing quickly, with fumbling fingers. She helped her out of her dress and petticoats and corset, trying not to meet her mistress’s eyes. When his wife was left standing in her chemise and stockings, Frederic spoke again.
“Excuse us please, Liesl. Do not go far. We will be requiring your services again very soon.”
Liesl quickly vacated the room after throwing her mistress a most concerned look. Cassandra was white as a sheet as she watched her maid retreat, but when she turned to her husband the red circles of anger still burned in her cheeks.
“I won’t go visit my parents this evening, and you can’t make me.”
“I agree Cassandra that you won’t be in any condition to visit your parent’s, not after you receive the caning you have earned.”
“You can’t bully me into socializing with my family if I don’t want to!”
“This correction is not because of your refusal to socialize with your family,” Frederic said calmly. “You and I will discuss that matter later, as I am very curious as to your reasoning. No, my dear, you are receiving this caning because you left my study before you were dismissed. You also raised your voice and stomped your foot at me. That is not acceptable behavior in this household. In the future, you will usually be corrected in my study where it is more private. However, since you seem eager to receive this one in the family quarters, where there are several servants always near, I am glad to oblige. Now arrange yourself over the chair.”
Cassandra held herself perfectly straight and walked across the room casually as if she did not care a bit that she was about to be disciplined for the first time by her intimidating husband. She desperately tried to not show fear but she could not tear her eyes away from the cane her husband was holding as she moved to the only chair in the room. She’d endured worse, she told herself, having been birched.
“Lower your drawers, Cassandra.” Cassandra flushed from top to toe as she undid the ribbon at her waist and she felt her drawers fall around her ankles.
Frederic used the cane to point to the cushion. “Bend forward Cassandra and set your arms on the cushion. Hold your legs straight and your bottom high.” Cassandra turned to the chair, trying to imagine how the small, light cane would feel striking her skin. Perhaps such a flimsy implement would not be so bad. She reluctantly assumed the position her husband had decreed. She was frightened, having been paddled, birched, strapped and spanked, but never caned before. Hayden, who had been severely punished on several occasions, told her that the birch rod hurt more than the cane and now she clung to that thought as she bent over the chair. Straightening her legs, Cassandra lifted her bottom as she’d done when punished by her father.
“That is not the correct position for punishment, Cassandra, Not in this household. Rise up on tiptoe and turn your heels outwards.”
Cassandra shuddered as she assumed the new position, realizing it opened her up entirely to her husband’s eyes. She suddenly felt extremely vulnerable and gasped when she felt the cane between her legs, tapping on her inner thighs. It was an unspoken command to spread her legs apart and so she reluctantly did, stepping out of her drawers to do so.
“That is the position you will always assume during punishment Cassandra, and if you should break position we will stop until you once again assume it.”
“How... how many, Sir?” Cassandra asked in a quavering voice.
“I don’t give counts, my dear. I strike until I feel the lesson has been learnt. Are you ready?”
“Ye... yes Sir,” Cassandra whispered. She suddenly realized that perhaps she should not have bolted from her husband. She knew she’d never do it again. She closed her eyes and prayed for help to quell any future displays of her infamous temper.
Frederic came and stood beside her as he pushed her chemise up her back. He kept his hand there and she felt it burning into her flesh. It was all so humiliating; she could hardly bear it as she thought of all that he could see – her bottom hole, her cunny, everything. She closed her eyes and held her breath. She heard the cane whistle through the air and then it struck. Cassandra squealed and sprang to her feet rubbing the wheal that had sprung up, looking at her husband with disbelief. The cane’s bite was atrocious! Surely he didn’t intend to do this to her several times?
“Yes?” Frederic asked, curious to see what she would say.
“Why... it... it hurt! It really hurt!” Cassandra finally blubbered, tears coming to her eyes.
“This is a junior cane, my love, one used only on the smallest of school boys. It cannot possibly hurt worse than several switches being laid on your arse at once. It will, however, give you a memorable reminder to be respectful and not run from me ever again, oh yes it will
. Back into position now.” He took her by the upper arm and lowered her into position. She shifted back and forth and managed to take the position he’d ordered. The wheal felt like a living thing on her bottom though, large and throbbing.
“Please Frederic, not so hard, please...” Cassandra begged. She heard the whistle again and she again squealed at the impact. Again she leapt to her feet and looked at her husband with disbelief.
Frederic removed his necktie. “You will need to be restrained, Cassandra. You clearly do not know how to take a punishment properly.”
She began to sob. “No, no, please don’t tie me! Please, Sir! I will hold position! I promise! It’s just that I’m... not... used to the feeling of the... the cane.”
Frederic turned the chair around. The back only came to waist height. He arranged Cassandra over the back, head dropping on to the cushions and then stretched out her arms and tied her wrists to the front legs. Then he tied her legs to the back chair legs with her discarded stockings. She could not move now, even if she wanted to.
He decided to get this over with quickly. Taking his place next to her and facing towards her bottom, he reached around his wife’s waist with his left arm and held on tight. He raised his right arm and then struck fast and furiously, laying down dozens of strokes in a couple of minutes. Cassandra cried out a single word, “NoooooooooooooOOOOOO,” and it rose in volume until she was screeching loudly enough for practically the entire household to hear. She held that one note the entire time. He was certain that everyone on the block could hear the racket she’d made. Frederic stopped and sat on the bed, watching his wife’s beautiful bottom undulate as she came to terms with the hurt he had laid down upon it.
“Whaaaaa! Yeeoowww! Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” She continued to wail as the heat built. Her bottom rotated in complete circles for a couple of minutes until her cheeks looked orange and hot. Finally she collapsed upon the chair back and cried like a baby. When she had stopped moving, Frederic walked over and untied her. She still didn’t rise as he stroked her flanks. The lines were laid so closely they seemed to be swelling into a single throbbing blister. He parted her cheeks and looked between them; the damage hadn’t been as intrusive as when her father had birched her but he knew that she was struggling to come to terms with the mind-numbing pain of feeling the cane for the first time. Schoolboys were only allowed six strokes and usually had trouble holding position for that. Cassandra had received at least three dozen strokes and had been given no choice.
An Unacceptable Arrangement Page 7