by Ashe Barker
It had been wicked, sinful, and utterly divine. All of it. There was nothing she would not do again. And more.
There would be more, she knew it. Much, much more with this terrifying, wonderful man.
She rolled onto her back, and became aware of the cool damp spot beside her hip. His semen. He had ejaculated into her, because she’d demanded that of him. Now the life-giving liquid had seeped out to dampen her mattress, but it had been there. Even now she might be conceiving. Could that be possible? How long would it take?
“Are you hungry?” The low tone came from across the room. Victoria eased herself up on one elbow to look.
Adam was fully dressed, and she realised she was naked still under the counterpane. He sat at a low table, dishes of food arranged across the surface of it. He lifted one lid to reveal a whole roast chicken, and another that covered a tureen of vegetables. The aromas were tantalising and Victoria’s stomach growled. She was ravenous.
She sat up, clutching the bedclothes to her chest. “Yes, famished. Are my clothes in here?” She had a dim recollection of removing them out in the sitting room and leaving them folded neatly on a chair.
“No, but you don’t require them. You can eat in bed if you like, but I must insist you drop the chaste virgin act. Let go of that blanket and sit up straight.”
Victoria eyed him with a degree of resentment, then her stomach made its needs known again and she relented. She dropped the blanket and wriggled backwards to rest against the headboard.
Adam nodded his approval. “Better. But you need some pillows, I think.” He came over to her and grabbed a couple of pillows from the other side of the bed to thrust them behind her shoulders. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed her mouth, then cupped her breast. He lifted the soft curvy mound toward his mouth, then bent to take her nipple between his lips. He sucked, twirling his tongue around the hardening bud. She gasped, but he released her straight away.
“Food first, more fucking later. Do not cover these again, Miss Wynne. Your body is exquisite and I want to admire you.”
“Yes, sir.” Her initial resentment had melted. It seemed he only needed to look at her, touch her, speak to her, and she was his.
“We have chicken roasted in lemon and herbs, and an apple tart for later. Does that sound all right to you?”
“Perfect, sir. I, I could come and eat over there. With you.” Before today she could never have envisioned herself sitting across from a man to eat a meal completely nude, whilst he was fully dressed. This was a weekend for new experiences. Victoria would be amenable to just about anything he asked of her as long as he continued to bestow that warm, approving smile on her.
“Please do that then.” Adam returned to the low table and resumed his seat. He gestured to the empty chair opposite, then proceeded to pick up the long, sharp kitchen knife supplied by the hotel, and carved several slices of the succulent meat. Before she could give herself time to think and become shy again, Victoria scooted from the confines of her blankets and crossed the room to join him. She knew a moment of unease when she spotted the dark stain on the coverlet, evidence of her virginity, now a thing of the past.
“Are you sore, Victoria?”
She glanced at him. Adam was also looking at the stain. “I tried to be gentle, but I hurt you, I know that.”
“You didn’t, not really. At least, it did hurt but it was quick. Then, it felt, well…” She paused, uncertain how to describe the confused tangle of emotions coursing through her. She settled for something simple, but true. “It was good. Better than good.” Then, as an afterthought, “I hope I am pregnant.”
He served her a helping of meat and placed her plate in front of her. “Help yourself to vegetables. So am I, since that is what you desire. But as soon as you suspect, you must tell me. I would have no wish to harm you, or your baby.”
Your baby. She had made it clear when she set out her demands that she expected no aid or support from him, and he had clearly taken her at her word. It was for the best probably, but still, his choice of word stung her. She gave herself a mental shake and dismissed her foolish musings. She would not dwell on that. Instead, she reached for the serving spoon.
“I doubt you would do that, sir. Harm us, I mean.” She selected several tiny carrots and a helping of rosemary potatoes.
“If you were to become pregnant, there are certain things I would not choose to do with you. To you.”
“Spank me again? Is that what you mean?”
“That, perhaps, though a spanking is not especially severe, or does not have to be. But a caning, now that’s different entirely, especially if it is a punishment. I intend to be very careful with you, Victoria.”
“I… I see.” Caning? Oh, Lord…
“You’ve gone pale, little one.”
“I have never been caned, sir. Not even as a child. At school. I do not allow it at Wynne’s school either.”
“I should hope not. Caning a child is cruel. A grownup caning though, for a woman with a lovely, enticing bottom such as yours—now that is entirely a different matter. I will demonstrate, later.”
“I wish that you would not, sir.”
“Victoria, have yet I done anything to you that you genuinely hated and would wish me never to repeat?”
She shook her head, emphatic. “No, nothing, sir.”
“Then perhaps you should trust me on this, just a little. It’s true that a cane is an instrument of pain, and can be extreme. But it all depends on how it is wielded, and who by. I can and will make you dance and squeal a bit, but afterwards, I suspect you’ll look back on the experience with a degree of fondness. I intend to do all I am able to ensure that you do.”
“Oh.” She could think of no other response, so left it at that.
Adam smiled as he served himself several slices of chicken breast. “So, remind me, when does your train leave tomorrow?”
“One o’clock, sir. I will be back in Hebden Bridge just after midnight, I hope.” She picked up her fork and lifted a succulent piece of chicken to her mouth.
“You are intending to be at the mill as usual on Monday morning, I assume?”
“Of course. I am always at my desk by eight, usually earlier than that. People would worry if I were late.” She speared a carrot and a piece of potato.
He shrugged. “No one seemed unduly put out the last time.”
She chewed on the vegetables before replying. “That was because you were there. And you told them I was ill.”
“Indeed. Perhaps I should send a message to excuse you on Monday morning then.”
“Don’t you dare! I would die of mortification if anyone knew I had been here, with you.”
“Ah, Miss Wynne, ever the traditionalist at heart despite your brave words about coping with parenthood alone. I am heartened by your time-honoured values, not to mention your staunch Protestant work ethic. I appreciate those qualities in a business partner.”
Victoria set down her fork. “Please do not mock me, Mr. Luke.”
He glanced across at her, his expression sharp. Knowing.
“I did not intend to.”
“Tradition is fine for those with suitably ordered lives. My own is not so tranquil. I do what I have to do. I intend to survive, Mr. Luke, and to prosper if I am able. I hope to offend no one, but…” She halted, aware her voice had risen. She was admonishing him and she knew enough already to appreciate that would not be tolerated. “I am sorry. I did not mean to shout at you.”
Victoria folded her hands in her lap, acutely conscious now of her nakedness, her vulnerability. She had felt sensual a moment before, seductive even. Now, she simply felt ridiculous. And scared.
Adam laid his utensils aside and stood. He came around the table and leaned over her. His hands slid under her hips and her knees and he lifted her in his arms.
He is taking me back to the bed. To span
k me? Or worse? Victoria cringed but did not protest or plead.
He did not do that though. Instead he turned and seated himself in the chair he had taken her from, with Victoria cradled in his lap. He held her, his hands warm on her back and shoulders as he pulled her to his chest and kissed her hair.
“I am the one who should apologise, sweetheart, not you. I do, most sincerely. I was insensitive, but I was teasing. I did not mean to hurt you. Do you believe that?”
“Yes, I do believe you.” And she did, though she could not have said why.
“If I joke with you, it is because I am at ease. I would never mock you, or your choices. I respect you too much for that.”
“I… oh.”
“In fact, respect is not the correct word. Rather, I am in awe of you. I admire your courage and your tenacity, not to mention your loyalty to those you care about.”
“Oh. I thought… Oh.”
“What did you think, Victoria? That I saw an opportunity to exploit a beautiful but vulnerable woman and took advantage? That I only want your body, and whatever money you might make for me?”
“I suppose… yes, I suppose it was something like that.”
“You are beautiful and I do want you. And of course it would be churlish not to acknowledge that your business acumen is another of your fine qualities. But there is much more to the lovely Miss Victoria Wynne than that. I see it, and I hardly know you. Your family sees it, as do your staff. You are adored by all around you.”
“Oh, I do not think…”
He tipped up her chin with his hand and laid his finger across her lips to silence her.
“You are. Believe me when I say that too.”
Victoria stared at him, but said no more. She needed to think.
Adam smiled down at her. “So, now we have that settled, we should plan the rest of our weekend. I suggest we remain here for tonight, enjoy this fine meal while it remains warm, then retire back to the bed. I intend to demonstrate the more delicate uses to which a cane may be applied, and I intend to fuck you again. Several times, I expect. Unless you are too sore, in which case I might agree to delay that until the morning. Then tomorrow we could take a stroll together. Hyde Park is lovely at this time of year.”
“A walk? You intend to be seen out with me? In public?”
“Of course. And since you defied my orders and brought far too much luggage with you, it seems a pity not to give at least one outfit an airing, wouldn’t you think?”
“I was not defiant. I explained—”
“I know. I know. The bulging bags were for appearances’ sake.” He paused, his expression becoming more serious for a moment. “Joking and respect, remember.”
Victoria grinned back at him, her inner confidence restored. “Of course. I have not visited Hyde Park since I was a child.”
“Then it is settled. We will take a stroll along the Serpentine, and afterwards I will see you back to the station and onto your train. But enough talk of your leaving. You have only just nicely arrived. Can I tempt you to finish your meal now?”
Victoria nodded, her appetite restored along with her self-belief. She reached for her fork once more, but made no move to vacate Adam’s lap. He too seemed content with their arrangement.
And the chicken was quite delicious.
Chapter Ten
“Stand in front of the chair, lean forward, and place your hands on the arms.” Adam eyed Victoria, his gaze appraising. He would not usually use a cane so early in a relationship with a new submissive, but his instinct told him this would be just what Victoria needed. Her courage and curiosity were rampant and he intended to widen her horizons considerably on this, their first real liaison. She would return to Hebden Bridge with much to consider.
She stepped forward and did as he instructed.
“Shoulders down and lift your bottom a little more, please. Present your lovely derrière to me.”
“I must be mad,” she muttered, but did as he asked anyway. He chose not to take issue with her irreverent remark. A first caning was always a demanding event; a submissive was entitled to question her sanity, he supposed.
Adam sauntered across the bedroom to his bag, which he had left under the window. He knew she followed him with her eyes, twisting her neck to keep him in view. He crouched by the valise and opened the lid.
He heard her faint gasp when he retrieved the narrow cane and stood to face her. The rattan flexed between his hands as he walked back across the room. Victoria paled, but did not shift from her position. He needed to ensure that she did not move, at least this first time. She had consented to this, but she might still wriggle or worse still she might forget herself and attempt to protect her buttocks with her hands.
He gave her a playful pat on her upturned bottom before going over to the foot of the bed to pick up the rope he had used to tie her wrists to the bedpost and that now lay in an untidy coil on the floor. He returned to the chair and laid the cane across the seat, right under her nose.
“This will be a light caning. We are still playing, remember. Even so, it will smart and you could be tempted to put your hands back to protect yourself. It’s a natural reaction, but I cannot allow that. It would be dangerous if I catch your fingers or wrists. I am going to tie your hands to the chair to make sure you are safe.”
He had phrased his intention as a statement rather than a request, but even so, if she had protested, he wouldn’t have forced the issue. She needed to accept this, and to trust him. He waited, the rope looped in his hands.
He was rewarded with a slight nod. It was enough. He wasted no time in securing her wrists to the chair arms, then reached for the cane. He moved to stand behind her, taking the opportunity to admire her perfect smooth globes. She truly did have an arse made for spanking. And more. He had yet to fuck her there, but he would, before long. She had already allowed him to examine and probe her rear hole; he knew she would go the rest of the way if he was patient and gentle enough.
The rounded cheeks of her bottom were pale, no hint now of residual pinkness from the few slaps he administered earlier. She was a blank canvas, his to paint.
“As this is the first time for you, I think five strokes will be ample. Two on each buttock, and the final one across both thighs. It will hurt when you sit, for a couple of days at least.”
“But, you promised not to hit me very hard.” She sounded almost indignant.
“And I will not. But it will sting even so. You would be disappointed if it did not, I think.”
He was not entirely sure what her response to that was as she muttered it into the cushions a few inches from her face. He could guess.
“Do you remember the word we agreed upon? If you need me to stop?”
“Yes. It was dancer.”
“Good. Remember it. I hope never to hear that word from you, but I will honour it if I do. You may rely on that.”
“Thank you, sir, I… oh!”
Her cry of alarm was in response to his laying the cane across her smooth buttocks. He did not strike her, merely rested the implement on her skin, pressing it into her flesh.
“We start now. Concentrate.” His tone was curt, cool, deliberately stern. He found it hard to be otherwise when he had a cane in his hand and a naked woman before him. He gazed at her arse for a few more moments, deciding his approach, then opted for the safest choice.
He slid the cane back and forth across her right buttock in a sawing motion. She clenched, her bottom quivering as she tensed up. He continued to stroke her with the cane, watching as her body braced for the expected blow, then loosened again as no assault came. Only when she was soft and relaxed did he flick his wrist to raise the cane and drop it sharply across her skin.
Victoria yelped and tugged at her restraints. He had been right to tie her up.
He laid his palm over the bright red stripe now etched across her pale buttock. She flinched as he rubbed in a large circular motion. “So, how was t
hat? Not too bad?”
“It hurt. I wasn’t expecting it.”
“I know.” He offered no further comfort, but continued to massage her bottom until she was writhing under his hand.
Satisfied she was ready to continue, Adam laid the cane on the other cheek, and started the sawing motion once more. Victoria groaned, her shoulders dropping as she raised her bottom for him. He was sure this was an unconscious reaction, yet more evidence of her innate submissive nature. She took longer to relax this time, but he was patient. Her muscles would lose their tension eventually, her bottom would be soft and receptive, and that would be the moment to strike. The very instant she softened he flicked his wrist and dropped the next stroke right across her left cheek.
This time she danced on her toes, squealing. “Sir, sir, ooh. Ow.”
“That good, eh? Tell me when you’re ready for the next one.”
Despite her obvious response Victoria settled quickly, her breath coming in shallow pants now. But there was no safe word forthcoming. Instead, she turned her face to him and offered a tremulous smile. “I am ready now, sir.”
He did not reply. Instead he resumed his position and commenced preparations on her right buttock, an inch or so below the first stripe. He would be careful not to hit the same spot twice, and he had always prided himself on his accuracy with the cane. He would leave her with a set of perfectly symmetrical marks to admire in the privacy of her room back in Yorkshire.
He slid the cane across her bottom, smiling to himself as she cringed. She was loving this, he could tell, and hating it at the same time—not an uncommon reaction to a first caning. He was glad he had opted for just five strokes on this occasion; more might have tipped the balance and he had no wish to discourage her. As it was she would be ambivalent and probably confused by her own response.