by Golden Angel
“Christina, what happened in the retiring room?” To punctuate the question, Benedict pumped the ginger, rasping it over her raw nerves, making her squeal as the burn increased with movement.
“Th-the Baroness!” She practically shouted her answer, quivering with the effort not to squeeze her bottom cheeks together again. “Baroness Alvenley! She was there!”
“What did she do?”
Her body was awash with sensation, completely overloaded, completely focused on the burn in her bottom, the ache between her thighs. It felt like every pulse of flames from the ginger spurred a responding pulse in her pussy, making her writhe on Benedict’s lap like a cat in heat.
“She-she said she’s going after you… she’s angry about Haversham… she wants you… as if taking George from me hadn’t been bad enough!” Christina’s anger fought with her arousal, as a surge of indignation and hateful fury rose inside of her. She still couldn’t believe the selfishness, the casual cruelty of the woman.
“Well she won’t have me,” Benedict said, his voice almost soothing as he squeezed her bottom cheek, making her moan. “I’m sorry love, if I’d known she was present I would have protected you better.”
“N-not your fault,” Christina protested, shaking her head, trying to turn to look up at him and then gasping as the attempt made her bottom automatically clench again. She moaned, panting for breath at the erotically charged pain which was sizzling through her. “D-d-d-didn’t hear her announced.”
“I also feel as though I should apologize for having to return to the capital in the first place,” Benedict said ruefully, his hands gentle as he continued to caress her - which of course, only increased the sensual need curling through her. “Ideally, we would have been able to spend more time together without so many distractions and social events, to give you time to feel more secure in our marriage. Unfortunately, I am as obligated to my sister as I am to you, so we shall have to work to find a way for me to accommodate both of you.”
Christina shook her head. “I’m fine, I promise, I just…”
“However,” Benedict said, raising his voice slightly and continuing as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “That does not excuse your behavior. If you had told me about the Baroness’ presence, I would have been happy to cling even closer to your skirts and to soothe your worries. You certainly shouldn’t have taken out your understandable apprehension on everyone else. So, I am going to spank you with the hairbrush now, and next time you will come to me and we will face your anxieties together, as man and wife.”
SMACK!
SMACK!
The two swift blows cracked against her cheeks, making Christina howl as she clenched around the ginger in response, increasing the burning level of discomfort twofold. Even so, she found herself rubbing her mound even harder against Benedict’s thigh, her pussy juices beginning to drip down her legs as her arousal soared.
******
SMACK!
SMACK!
The scent of ginger and woman filled Benedict’s nose, seductively intoxicating. Christina’s tears were already falling, even as she desperately moved against his leg, obviously highly aroused.
SMACK!
SMACK!
The crisp swats of wood against her flesh fell fast and furious, although not as painfully as they could have since he hadn’t warmed her up with his hand first. Hard enough she had to work to keep her bottom from clenching around the ginger, but not so hard she would clench instinctively.
SMACK!
His cock ached as she cried out, squirming against him, her pink cheeks quivering around the tan end of the ginger finger. The little hole it was invading looked quite pink as well, although not nearly as pink as her swollen, glossy pussy lips.
SMACK!
Benedict had decided not to punish her too harshly. After all, he could understand why she’d become so overwrought and reacted so badly. If she were to do so again, he’d certainly employ harsher measures, but for tonight his sweetheart needed coddling as much as she needed punishment.
A sore bottom, inside and out, tomorrow should be enough to remind her to behave. The marks and ache needn’t linger further than that. Not this time.
SMACK!
Christina’s legs began to kick as she cried and writhed, rubbing herself against him even as he turned her bottom a hot, bright pink. Every inch of her flesh jiggled as the hard wood flattened her cheeks over and over again, searing her skin until he could feel the heat emanating with his hand. By now she was clenching and barely noticing the burn of the ginger, he was sure of it.
With a flurry of sharp swats to her sit spots, to ensure the lesson had been firmly driven home, Benedict finally tossed the hair brush aside and pulled the ginger from her bottom, eliciting a whimper from her as the finger moved, and placed it back in the bowl.
“Good girl,” he murmured, rubbing her hot bottom, enjoying the way she writhed against his hand. “If you see the Baroness again what will you do, love?”
“Come find you and tell you,” Christina said with a gasp as his fingers brushed over her tender anus. It looked a little swollen and quite pink from the ginger’s effects, but none the worse for wear. Part of him ached to bury himself inside her there, but that was something else which would have to wait.
“Exactly,” he said, helping her move so she was bent over the bed instead of his lap, his mind already moving from her discipline to a more amorous intent.
The little pink star winked between her rosy cheeks, the puffy lips of her pussy fringed with dark curls making an enticing view beneath. Benedict quickly undid the front of his pants, too desperate to be inside of her to bother with the rest of his clothes.
His cock was hard as a rock, fluid gathering at the tip in its eagerness to plow his wife. Benedict didn’t think he’d ever tire of being able to release inside of her.
Grasping her firmly by the hips, he lined his cock up with her creamy sheathe, and mounted her with one smooth stroke that had both of them gasping with pleasure. The heat of her slick pussy was phenomenal, and she immediately shuddered around him, squeezing his cock as her bottom lifted, her hot cheeks pressing against his groin.
“Bloody hell… Christina…” He groaned, his fingers tightening on her hips as he began to ride her hard.
******
The pain was beautiful. Heady. Thrilling.
Christina moaned into the sheets, rubbing her breasts and nipples against them with every hard thrust of Benedict’s cock into her, his body pressing her into the mattress. It wasn’t enough. Her lower body was afire with pain… pleasure… she moved her hands beneath her to squeeze her breasts, almost as though she was trying to crush them with her fingers.
Her back arched, and she found her nipples, pinching the tender buds, pulling them hard as Benedict pressed into her from behind. He was fucking her so hard, so deeply, she could feel him all through her body. With his hands holding her firmly in place, she couldn’t move back to meet him nor could she move away as his hard thrusts reignited the sensation of being spanked in her bottom.
As she tormented her own nipples, so needy, so achy for the jagged edges of pain to flavor her pleasure, Christina practically sobbed as Benedict’s cock plundered her depths. She had no more room for doubts, for apprehension, for fear… he’d turned her into a houri, a siren, a creature there to pleasure him whether it was with her pain or her ecstasy.
“Oh yes… bloody hell… Christina… I love you…” His efforts doubled, his cock pounding into her hard and fast as it swelled. “I love you.”
Christina screamed as her orgasm crested. Her fingers pinched the tiny buds of her nipples so hard they felt as though they were about to burst. Her body throbbed, shuddered, shattered, as undone by his heated declaration as she was by the physical sensations crashing over her. She released her hold on her breasts, overcome by the intensity of her climax, and grasped at the bed as Benedict surged within her.
She felt him swell, pulse, filling her with heat, his
hoarse cry announcing his orgasm as she writhed before him in abject sexual bliss, a willing receptacle for his pleasure as he poured himself into her.
The grip on her hips relaxed, gentling as his fingers began to caress; the tender strokes of a man who had been quite well satisfied. With a little quiver, Christina slumped.
Her bottom burned, inside and out, and her lower body throbbed, but she no longer felt so wound up or so unsettled. Benedict’s hands traced her curves, soothing her further, as if she were a sleepy kitten.
In the days to come she would apologize to everyone she’d been short with this evening, especially Lady Capell, and she would go to Benedict to be reassured if and when the Baroness made another appearance. There was no need to be so on edge.
She let out a little sigh as Benedict pulled himself free, leaving her lower body hot but satiated. The sounds of him undressing were recognizable as she muzzily tried to garner the strength to push herself up - or at least crawl fully onto the bed. Any moment now her muscles would stop feeling like limp noodles, she was sure of it.
A low chuckle made her lift her head, and she smiled sleepily over her shoulder at her naked husband. He shook his head, smiling back, before helping lift her up into the bed.
“Just lay there, love, I’ll do the rest.”
Christina was about to ask him what he meant, but he was already rolling her onto her back and spreading her legs wide, head lowering to her breast as she whimpered at the pressure of weight on her sore bottom.
It wasn’t long before Christina was doing quite a bit more than just lying there; reciprocating touch for touch as Benedict made her burn, yearn, and scream all over again.
Chapter 14
“Welcome to the club!”
Blinking at this nonsensical greeting, Benedict’s forward movement ground to a halt as he stared at Spencer. The man was raising a glass towards Benedict, a knowing grin on his face. Behind Benedict, Isaac jostled him forward, so he had no choice but to continue his advance into Spencer’s billiard room. Darkly and comfortably furnished, the room was obviously a masculine haven; the air smelled faintly of liquor and cigars, and the furniture was heavy and well made.
“Keep moving, Benedict, and ignore Wesley,” Isaac rumbled, pushing past him the rest of the way into the room. “The rest of us do.”
Spencer, looking more piratical than ever without his jacket or cravat to give him even a smidgen of respectability, just chuckled as Isaac crossed to join him. Standing on the other side of the pool table, Felix leaned against the cue in his hand, while his brother Thomas lounged in a chair close enough to watch the game.
“What club?” Benedict asked, still feeling rather puzzled. Isaac had practically dragged him out today, as Benedict had spent the past week dancing attendance on Christina, asserting they needed some time together. Benedict, taking Isaac at his word, had reassured Christina they were merely paying a visit to Spencer’s home, and had even hinted she should feel free to pay a call to Lady Spencer if she liked. She’d bitten her lip and shook her head no, although he was sure she was just trying to show she trusted him.
“It’s not a real club,” Thomas drawled, exchanging an amused look with Isaac as Benedict’s brother crossed to a table laden with a decanter of amber liquid, several glasses, and a plate of biscuits.
“Alex says Wesley only wants to call it that because no real club will have him,” Felix said, laughing as Spencer made a rude gesture at him.
“Alex?” Benedict asked, still feeling rather bemused as he followed his brother to the liquor.
“Greville,” Isaac said, handing the first tumbler he poured to Benedict. A small smile played on his lips, and he looked considerably more relaxed than Benedict was used to seeing his brother, even in their friends’ company. Although, prior to this, Benedict had only seen Isaac interact with these gentlemen at an establishment such as Whites or when they were accompanied by their wives. “We all call each other by our Christian names.”
“Which we hope you will join us in doing so,” Wesley said cheekily, giving Benedict a wink before he bent over and took his shot. Felix cursed when the ball Wesley had aimed for obligingly skid straight into the corner pocket.
As Spencer - Wesley - was the only one in the room whom Benedict had not already been close enough with to call by his first name, Benedict couldn’t help but be curious. “Who else is in this club?”
“Petersham, Hyde, Greville, and Dunbury,” Wesley said with relish. He shot Thomas a look. “Hood over here is actually not an official member, seeing as he’s still a bachelor. So, you may assume any statements he makes about the legitimacy of my club to be pure jealousy on his part. We took pity on him today and offered refuge, as his mother is on a particular tear.”
Thomas snorted, his lips quirking. “I won’t need to be a member once I’m married, because my wife-”
“Oh, dear God, don’t get him started on his list again,” Felix said with a groan. “There isn’t a woman alive who matches that damn list anyway, so he’ll never be married at this rate.” He looked at his brother. “If you’re going to start in on that list, I’m never bringing you to another club meeting again, I don’t care how bothersome Mother is being.”
“Ah ha! So you admit we’re a club!” Wesley crowed.
Scowling at his younger brother, Thomas opened his mouth - likely to argue, but Benedict started speaking again before he could.
“But what kind of club - real or fictional - is it?”
“It’s a club for Spanking Husbands,” Wesley said, knocking another ball into the pocket.
“Stop calling it that,” Isaac said as he settled into one of chairs beside Thomas. Benedict hovered at the table with the whiskey; it gave him a good vantage point of the entire room, plus he had a feeling being near the liquor might be an advantage given the sudden turn of conversation. “It sounds as though we’re the ones being spanked when you say it that way, not doing the spanking.”
“You all spank your wives?” Benedict asked, dumbstruck. “All of you and the others?”
He’d known about Isaac of course, in the most general way, and Wesley had made more than one comment in Benedict’s hearing which made his predilections no surprise, but Benedict hadn’t realized all of them… Then again, there wasn’t any real way to talk about such things in polite company.
“Yes, although Hugh only does it when Irene has actually earned discipline,” Wesley said, almost sounding bewildered. As if to confirm his confusion, he missed the next shot. Grinning, Felix stepped up to the table as Wesley sighed and turned away. “Still, we have quite an accumulation of knowledge here, if you have any questions or any particular advice to dole out. Oh! And I have a wedding present for you.”
“Now this is where you’re really missing out,” Felix said to his brother as Wesley retrieved a large box from a side table. “The wedding present really is quite something.”
“But how did you all know…”
“Even if Isaac didn’t know, it was fairly obvious your wife was sitting a bit gingerly at Lady Hampton’s dinner last night,” Felix said, giving Benedict a significant look. “Being husbands who spank our wives, we are all quite familiar with the signs.”
Grinning like a mischievous young lad, Wesley returned to Benedict and set the box on the table in front of him. With some trepidation, Benedict put down his glass and opened the top. He blinked in surprise at the contents, all of which were carefully and securely laid out.
“Oils from India,” Wesley said, pointing to the three well cushioned glass bottles encased within. “This one is for massages, this one for lubrication, and this one you only take a drop or two with a glass of wine if you’d truly like to be up all night. India’s aphrodisiacs can pack quite a wallop.”
“I actually already have this set,” Benedict said, grinning as he tapped the familiar box of dilators. “On your recommendation, I believe.”
“Ah yes, you’ll find the lubrication oil quite useful for those, and th
e oils I only provide to members of our club,” Wesley said with glee. The Earl seemed to have forgotten all about the game he’d been playing with Felix, but the other man didn’t seem to mind as he’d begun chatting with Isaac and Thomas. “I have found there are different benefits to each one, depending on your desired outcome. Lately I’ve been experimenting with trying to create a strap to hold one in place, so Cynthia could walk about with it. What do you think about-”
As Wesley warmed to his topic, Benedict listened intently, thinking that such a club was not a bad idea at all.
Although Isaac was certainly correct about the name.
******
Fortunately for Christina’s nerves, she was not alone for long after Benedict and Isaac left the house.
Her anxiety didn’t rise from a lack of trust, more from the feeling of being totally out of control. While she might enjoy a lack of control in the bedchamber, it didn’t suit her temperament at all for everyday life - especially after so much time being entirely in control of her own life, including her emotions. Now she was not the only hand on the rudder steering her life; Benedict’s was there as well, and while she found comfort in that, there was also fear.
Fear of losing him.
Fear of not being able to keep him.
Of course, she didn’t really expect the Baroness to jump upon him the moment he left the house without Christina… but what if she did?
Benedict would turn her away, of course, she reassured herself.
But what if he didn’t?
Of course he would.
But what if he didn’t?