The knowledge that his dominance over her body excited her and enflamed him was not going to be a consideration. They would play, frequently, but real punishment would not be a sexual game.
Methodically he turned her bottom from pink to red, his hand falling in measured increments meant to give her just enough time to catch her breath in between each slap. His arm tightened around her waist, holding her firmly against him when she began to kick her legs and try valiantly to get away.
“Settle down, my love,” he warned.
“Sam, please, that’s enough. It isn’t fun anymore,” she cried.
“Then I am making my point,” he informed her.
“What point?” she screamed, turning tear-filled eyes to his.
“That there will be times when I spank and discipline you in ways that have nothing to do with sexual pleasure. Times that will not end in climactic release for you, but with you standing with your nose in the corner and your hot little ass displayed for me.
“This afternoon you promised to love, honor and obey me, and obey me you shall, my sweet brat. I will give you as much freedom as you can handle, but you will not defy me without consequences.”
“Oh, Sam, you’re breaking my heart,” she sobbed, collapsing over his lap. “I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you and I will protect and cherish you until my last breath leaves this body, but when it’s important, you will mind me Euphemia. I can’t take the risk of anything happening to you. Without you, I am nothing,” he whispered.
Sam rubbed her bottom softly as she cried nearly silently over his lap. She appeared to be thinking things over and he held his breath. Finally, she lifted her head and stared at him over her shoulder for several minutes.
“All right, Sam,” she said with a hiccup. “You win. Let me up.”
He didn’t, of course. He gave her ten more hearty slaps, five on each side and she was howling when he picked her up, stood her before him and rose beside her. Effie fell into his arms and he held her close, rocking gently to and fro. His hands rubbed her back, making occasional forays to her ass which caused her to press against him. It was wonderful.
Whispering words of love and devotion against her cheek, he reached for a towel and tipped her head up, drying her tears as fast as they fell. When she’d calmed, he picked her up by the waist and plopped her sore bottom on top of the large wooden table.
“Ow, ow, what are you doing?” she gasped, wiggling from one cheek to the other.
“Hush, something I’ve dreamed about for weeks. You’re just going to have to trust me, my love.”
“I did trust you until about fifteen minutes ago,” she said with a pout. She shoved her hair back.
Sam laughed.
“That was a necessary evil.”
“So what’s this, an unnecessary evil?” she demanded as he unlaced her corset. “When are we going up to bed? I’m tired now; in fact, I think I want to go right to sleep.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” he smiled as he continued to strip her of her corset, chemise, stockings and shoes. After plucking her small gun from its place, he said, “I think we’ll leave the garters,” he said sliding them back up her naked legs. “They add a little something, don’t you think?”
Effie yawned. Apparently the excitement she’d felt in the carriage ride home was long gone. He’d have to do something about that.
“Lay back, darling,” he instructed, sliding a hand behind her head and easing her down on her back. “Yes, just like that.” Walking away, he opened a drawer and took out several pink ribbons, dangling them in front of her.
“Sam…”
“Be quiet, Effie,” he warned. “I don’t want to have to gag you.”
“What?” she yelled, her head popping up.
Apparently his most intimidating glare worked for she narrowed her eyes at him and snapped her lips together. Taking her hand, he pulled her arm up and tied her wrist to the table leg with a pretty pink bow. Smiling he did the same with her other hand.
“Lovely,” he announced. “You’re being a very good girl.”
Effie rolled her eyes.
Grasping her ankle, he tied it to another table leg and repeated the process until she was spread eagle.
“Are you happy now?” she asked sarcastically.
“Almost, and if you don’t shut up, I may turn you over. That would not be a good thing,” he warned.
Effie gulped and nodded.
Sam smiled and took off his coat. After rolling up his sleeves, he went to the ice box and returned with a bowl. She eyed him nervously as he moved her hair, smoothing it up and away from her breasts. Sticking his finger in the bowl he pulled it out with a big dollop of chocolate icing on it and proceeded to slowly suck and lick it off, nearly groaning in ecstasy. Watching her, he saw her mouth drop open and immediately snap shut.
“First things first,” he avowed, moving to the top of the table and dabbing a small amount of icing on her upper lip. “This is what started it all,” he sighed as he lowered his dark head and licked it off before taking her lips in a gentle kiss that became searing very quickly.
“Oh, Effie, you truly have no idea how often I’ve dreamed of this,” he moaned into her mouth. “And this,” he continued, lifting his head and sliding his chocolate covered finger along each side of her collar bone.
Effie arched her back and shivered although her eyes looked feverish by the time he coated each of her nipples with the cold treat. He dabbed a bit on her navel before moving lower and, for that, he set the dish down and spread her pussy lips. She cried out when he pasted a cold glob on her clit and, almost immediately, it began to melt and trickle into places she couldn’t even imagine.
When he was satisfied, he returned to the icebox and put the bowl back. Taking out a small cake he cut a slice and placed it on a plate, got a fork and sat down. He didn’t touch it, too enthralled at the vision before him. Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his chair and silently took it all in. Finally, he picked up his fork and began to eat.
“I’ve always had a sweet tooth, you know,” he told her with a grin. “There was never enough icing on a cake for me. I think tonight I may finally be satisfied.”
Effie stared at him in shock. Good Lord, she’d wed a lunatic. Today she’d been married, teased to the point she’d been seconds from spending on his lap on the way home, spanked soundly, and now she was tied to a table in the kitchen with pretty pink ribbons that were nonetheless very sturdy bonds, she’d tested them when his back was turned. Her nipples were as cold and hard as pebbles, her bottom was on fire and that special spot between her legs was both. To top it all off, her new husband was sitting at the table she was tied to, calmly eating a piece of cake and enjoying it immensely. Yup, he was crazy as a loon. She would have told him so too if she hadn’t been afraid he would gag her. What had she gotten herself into?
Her eyes followed him when he rose to put his plate in the sink and widened further when he started a fire in the stove and filled two large pots with water. Good heavens, was he going to boil her? Blinking rapidly, she tugged on her bonds again to no avail.
Heart pounding fear gripped her when he approached the table, until he bent and began to nibble along her collar bone.
“Delicious,” he murmured.
Effie sighed and tried to find a more comfortable position for her bottom on the table.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
She glared at him but kept her lips tightly compressed.
“You may speak,” he offered magnanimously.
“Of course it hurts, you moron,” she yelled.
“I take it back, you may not speak,” he ground out. “You are not going to ruin this fantasy. You may moan, cry out and, of course, beg, but you may not speak.”
Effie screamed at the top of her lungs.
Sam laughed.
“No screaming either, at least not yet.”
Lowering his head, he captured her chocolate nipple, suc
king it deep within his mouth and holding it while the heat of his tongue melted the icing away. She squirmed when his hand took hold of her breast, lifting it toward him as though the nipple wasn’t enough and he’d like to suck the entire orb in. Chocolate situated much lower on her body began to melt faster. Sam walked around the table and attended to her other breast in the same manner, laving her extended nipple until Effie felt a big glob slide down and settle between the cheeks of her ass.
Lord, this was so embarrassing. How could she feel like she was melting in so many places at once? When not a drop of the sweet substance remained on either breast, he bent far over and licked at her navel. She giggled until he snapped her garter against her skin and frowned.
Geeze, what a grouch!
Surprise was her foremost emotion when he untied her hands and rubbed her arms briskly. Undecided whether she wanted to pull his hair or try and free herself, perhaps making a run for it, the decision was taken from her before she could make up her mind. Standing at the end of the table, he grasped her hips and pulled her to the edge, causing her knees to bend and her tied legs to splay wider.
Icing smeared up her bottom to her waist and she briefly wondered if he intended to lick that off as well. Obviously her new husband had no shame. The kitchen was beginning to steam up from the water heating on the range, but that was nothing compared to what was happening to her. Once he lowered his head between her thighs, she did everything allowed. She screamed, she cried, she begged, she moaned.
Sam drove her to madness as time after time he brought her to the brink only to spot a bit of icing far away from where she wanted it to be and went after it. Effie pulled his hair, arched her hips and even wacked him in the head, after which he rolled her partway over and slapped her ass before going back to teasing her clit until she swore she would get her gun and shoot him dead if he didn’t let her finish. The rumble of his laughter as he sucked her swollen nub was what finally did it for her and she soared, forgetting that her ass was nearly stuck to the table.
When he finished riding out her climax with his lips firmly attached to the most sensitive part of her, he kissed her, letting her taste the combination of her own essence mixed with chocolate and smiled when she licked her lips.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he ordered at he left the room carrying a big pot of hot water with two towels to protect his hands.
As if I could, she thought.
Sam bathed his bride carefully in warm, jasmine scented water. Plucking her from the tub, he wrapped her in a towel and seated her on a bench while he quickly got in and washed himself. She was sleepy and he almost put her to bed when he got out. Almost.
Instead, he carried her to the bedroom, placed two pillows at the foot of the huge four-poster bed and bent her over them. It was his wedding night too after all.
Moving to his dresser, he retrieved the lubricant Effie was so fond of and liberally coated his cock. Two of his fingers slid snuggly into her and he savored the clamping contractions as well as her moan.
“My turn, love,” he murmured, stroking her red ass.
She arched her hips in response and he smiled and wondered if there would ever come a time when she wasn’t ready for him. Not if he had his way, he thought. Sam hadn’t been kidding when he talked about training her body. He’d heard of it being done, read about it and was almost sure he could do it if he put his mind to it.
Effie was so lovely, so responsive and open-minded enough to not only entertain his idiosyncrasies, but embrace them. He was a lucky man.
Sinking into her warm body was nearly a spiritual experience. He took her slowly, savoring each thrust and withdrawal. It was nothing like the primitive way he devoured her the first time in his mother’s kitchen. Taking her, pounding into her had been wonderful, life altering, but this slow claiming was stunning in its own way. She was whimpering now, arching up for deeper penetration, her hips dancing in invitation. Sam knew she was close to coming, would, in fact, come quickly himself if he sped up, but he refused. He wanted her to feel each inch of him, conquering her, over and over.
“Sam?”
“Shh, honey,” he whispered. “Slow and easy. Are you comfortable?”
“Oh, yes,” she sighed. “So good.”
“That’s fine, let’s just see what this feels like. No rushing, just you and I coming together as man and wife. Can you feel me, so deep inside you?” he asked, flexing.
“Mmm, yes. You keep touching this spot that feels so good.”
“This spot?” he asked, slowly going at a slight angle.
“Yes, oh, Sam, I know you want me to wait, but I just can’t,” she cried, clamping down on him.
“It’s all right, honey,” he cooed, “I’m right behind you.” His legs stiffened and his balls contracted in spine tingling need but even then he kept up his slow pace, flooding her with more of his seed with each deep stroke as she spasmed tightly around him. He stayed buried inside her until he regained his strength, then he withdrew and helped her into bed.
“I love you, Sam,” she whispered, touching his cheek as she curled against his chest.
“And how I love you, Euphemia.”
“Sam?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like jam?” she asked, innocently curling a chest hair around her finger and tugging.
“I do, particularly one my mother often buys for me when she goes to San Francisco. It’s made with fruit and some sort of pepper, Habanero I think. While sweet, it’s also quite warm.”
“Oh, never mind. I was thinking of something more like strawberry or peach,” Effie back-tracked.
“I’ll mention to her that I would like to have several kinds, the warmer the better the next time she goes,” he teased.
“But, Sam…”
“Go to sleep, Effie,” he suggested, patting her bottom. “I imagine I’ll be waking you long before sunrise.”
Chapter Four
Charlotte was up early staring out the kitchen window as dawn revealed the mist covered landscape that sloped away from the house. Trying to shake off her dreams, she filled the coffee pot with water and the basket with grounds.
Why had she slept with that darn cake under her pillow? It was all hogwash anyway, an old wives’ tale and nothing more. Slamming the pot on the stove, she quickly used kindling and a match to start a fire, blowing gently on the embers.
But her dream had seemed so real. She was surprised to awake and find she was in the same bed she’d slept in for the last several months instead of curled up in the strong arms of her husband. Brushing away a tear she stiffened her spine.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispered to herself.
“What’s ridiculous?” Jane asked, yawning as she wandered into the kitchen in her robe and house slippers.
“That silly superstition about the cake,” Charlotte snapped back.
“Well, there’s no need to bite my head off,” Jane responded, with a look of surprise.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m all muddled up this morning.” Sinking onto a chair at the well-scrubbed table, Charlotte put her head in her hands.
“Did you dream of your future husband?”
“Not exactly, I mean I don’t think so.”
“Were you married in the dream?” Jane probed kindly.
“Yes, but it was to the wrong man,” Charlotte explained. “I mean it wasn’t Joseph.”
“Who was it?”
“It was…it was…”
“Come on, Charlotte. There’s no one here but us,” Jane encouraged, full of curiosity now.
“It was Marshal Hadley,” Charlotte whispered.
“Oh, my.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought and it’s strange, Jane. When I woke up, I felt this tremendous sense of loss, but that doesn’t make any sense, does it? I mean it was only a dream.”
“Do you have feelings for the marshal?” Jane asked gently.
“I like him well enough. He’s handsome in a rugged sort of way a
nd I do pity him a little.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Charlotte sighed, rising and walking back to the window. “He seems gruff, but I think he tries to hide that he’s lonely. There’s that and the idea of him marrying Suzanna. She’ll make his life a living hell if she can. Nothing he does will ever be good enough for her. He thinks she’s a sweet little thing and, in reality, if she’d served with Lee’s troops, the south might have won the war.”
“It’s possible,” Jane replied with a laugh. “Our Suzanna does like to win, doesn’t she?”
“Have you ever noticed her face when he calls her Suzie?” Charlotte asked with a shiver. “It’s enough to make a body’s blood run cold.”
“I’ve noticed,” Jane answered, shaking her head. “You don’t like her, do you?”
“We’re just very different, is all,” Charlotte hedged. “We’re both from the south, but that’s where our similarities end. She was raised on a grand plantation and grew up expecting the best of everything, at least as a young child. I expect even during the war her family managed to maintain their style of living, at least until Sherman marched through Georgia.
“I was born on a small farm in Mississippi. We raised cotton and tobacco, but we didn’t own slaves and I worked right alongside my folks. I had three dresses, one for church, another for visiting and one for working in the fields. When the war came, we went under right quick. The Yankees burned our crops and we were lucky to save the house, such as it was. Then my Papa took sick and died. Mama was never the same after that, but we held on as best we could. When she passed, I answered that advertisement and here I am. If it wasn’t for the Jordon’s generosity and Martha’s skill with a needle, I’d be in rags,” she said plainly.
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