Lords and Ladies: Two Medieval Spanking Novellas

by Renee Rose, Korey Mae Johnson

  Gradually, as the heat spread all over and the spanks became less and less bearable, she found her demands melting into pleas. “Please, please don't! Please stop! Please, please!” Other words other than 'please' didn't seem ready on her tongue. “Husband, I beg you!” she finally cried desperately.

  “I mean to make you a good and obedient wife to me, whether you wish it or not!” he lectured between slaps. “I don't care how often I have to take you in hand, and I don't care if you hate me. Your days of being recklessly spoiled and selfish are done with!” Or at least she guessed that's what he was saying; she could barely hear him over her own wailing.

  She was sure she was going to die; every muscle in her body ached from trying to struggle against him. She settled down at last, too tired to fight, and that's when he finally released her. “Now bend over the bed,” he ordered her.

  She looked up at him with watery eyes, but her body moved back into position. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered, her voice already dry and cracking.

  He was not in the right mood, apparently, to be accepting apologies. He fixed her skirt so that her red bottom was on display to him, and probably her more intimate parts as well. Her cheeks burned with shame, but he didn't stop for long. She had barely caught her breath when he swung the birch and the switches fell upon her already welted skin.

  She realized she hadn't known pain until now. She screamed with a voice she thought she'd lost and put her hands back, covering herself. It felt like she had been stung by a million bees! Her skin felt like it was being burned. She tried to kneel on the ground but he picked her up and forced her back into position. “Wenda, every time you move your hands back, you will get another five strokes. You have twenty strokes coming already.”

  “No, T-T-Husband! Don't! Please!” Hot tears squeezed out from her eyes. She had never felt so wretched, and she still had nineteen more to endure.

  He looked hard at her. “I know it hurts, Wenda, but I cannot let you go unpunished. What you did was inexcusable, and you could have easily damaged more than your reputation.” He brought the birch down again, and even though the sound it made wasn't as loud as his hand had been, the pain was startling and made her whole being cringe.

  Three! Four! Five! After that, she lost count. Sometimes he'd go faster, sometimes slower, always keeping a hand on her back. She was too busy sobbing, crying, and screaming to run. There was nothing left she could do except surrender.

  * * *

  Talus could feel his anger recede, and to his disbelief, he could feel pity well up in his chest. She did many things well, especially for a girl, but one thing she did not take well at all was pain. Her bottom had been red, blotchy, and swollen even before he applied the birch, damn her.

  He didn't regret giving her the hand-spanking. It was of the utmost importance that she realize quickly that her body was not her own to cover up. He was her husband now; what did she expect? Did she seriously hope that she could keep the lights dim, and have him crawl under the covers with her, touching her only as much as he had to while not being able to feast his eyes on what was his by right?

  Apparently, that was exactly what she had hoped. If that's what she wanted, then she should have married the old man, not a hot-blooded man like him!

  Despite their past together he found himself excited, his manhood swelling at the idea of pushing himself deep within her. Her bottom, though it trembled and was well-reddened, was absolutely glorious. Actually, though he didn't understand it himself, one of the things that made it glorious was the welts. It made her appear so naughty, and because of that, so oddly tempting that he hardly knew if he was sane.

  If she hadn't been crying, which gave him pause, he would have abandoned the punishment already and pressed himself into her virgin folds. In any case, her cries of apology were beginning to sound more and more sincere by the second.

  “Pl… ano… ina…” she whined around the fifteenth stroke of the birch.

  Oh, no. She'd already gone to speaking gibberish. He brought back the birch and ran his fingers across the angriest of the welts. She didn't think to shy her flesh away from him this time. He found some welts that nearly looked purple, but he couldn't find any evidence of broken skin, which he was thankful for.

  After musing for a moment, he finally put the birch down. “That's enough, then,” he told her, but after he said it she didn't respond and continued not to even when he repeated himself.

  With difficulty, because her bottom looked so pretty when it was outstretched there at the edge of the bed, he lowered her chemise until it fell again to her ankles. Eventually, she quieted and stilled. He sat on the bed, rubbing his fingers over her lower back as she sniffled. “I couldn't even give you all twenty strokes,” he grumbled to her, amazed that he couldn't even complete such a well-deserved punishment.

  She looked like she wanted to laugh at that, but only a sob came out. She pressed her face into the mattress, her whole body still trembling. “You forgive me?” she finally asked when she raised her head and found words again.

  Her voice was scratchy and weary. He smiled softly and brushed her hair away from her wet cheeks. “I forgive you, sweetling—I couldn't be in more earnest. I forgave you right away; you just needed to be punished. You’ve lived your life without any fear of consequences… Without any fears at all, actually. I admit, it was adorable at two, it was commendable at five, it was heart-warming at twelve, but at eighteen, your lack of fear is… well… frightening. But your uncle wouldn't have you punished, nor would your cousin… until today,” he added thoughtfully.

  He had not expected Nicklaus to decree her punishment in front of the court. He hadn't been able to believe that Nicklaus would let her be shamed further than she had done to herself. Nicklaus was too kind for that sort of thing!

  Wenda moved her body over until her face was on Talus' lap and her arms were hugging his thighs. She let him stroke his fingers through her hair.

  He was just musing about how close her mouth was to his manhood when she told him, “I don't think Nicklaus would have had me birched in public any sooner than he would have divested you of your manhood.” She gave a tired sigh. “As usual, we are puppets in his play.”

  He thought about this, his eyebrows lowering. What she said did make sense. It was very possible that Nicklaus had calculated this all perfectly, and that he was never going to have her birched at all. After all, Nicklaus knew him well enough to know Talus wouldn't stand for it!

  He'd been had.

  T'was a whole family of puppeteers! Master manipulators, giving each other assists along the way… And he would eventually bring one home with him to run his own house, once it was finished being built.

  He put his hand over his eyes and just imagined it, growling out a deep sigh. He felt taken in—he should have never come to stay at Nicklaus' palace at all. He should have gone straight to his hunting cottage and not looked back. If he wasn't careful, this little wisp of a thing would curl him around her finger. Despite the birching, things were going much more according to her plans than his. “Dear mercy, you are going to be hard to tame.”

  “Tame? You don't want to tame me, old bear.” She pushed herself up onto her knees, trying to dry her eyes with her palms. When she looked at him again, even though her eyes were red and puffy, there was a girlish twinkle in them again that he knew well. “There's nothing left for you to tame! What do I know that you haven't taught me?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Well, I certainly had no success in teaching you humility, fear, hesitation, or good judgment…”

  “Well, you did teach me everything worth knowing,” she shrugged with an impish smile. “I think it's time for me to tame you instead.”

  “I'm sure that's in your plans, my dear,” he replied, trying to keep a playful smile off of his face and failing miserably. “But I don't think I'm the one who needs taming, if it could even be done, that is.”

  She smiled, biting her lip for a moment, but then she jutted her chi
n out with confidence. “You doubt me? Bigger fools have learned how to tame bears!” She threw her arms around his neck again and kissed his cheek, and he knew that if she blamed him for spanking her, at least she harbored no ill will towards him. “And if I cannot tame you, I shall use you as a rug,” she added with a pout in her voice.

  He laughed—he couldn't help it—and threw his arms around her as well.

  Her body suddenly went rigid, and he couldn't guess why until he remembered… They were married. She was wearing only her chemise and he'd yet to claim her, and she had apparently just realized it because she was slowly and carefully peeling herself out of his brawny arms. “I-I should return to my own chambers,” she told him, now avoiding his gaze. “My nurse has probably worried herself into knots…”

  His eyes darkened as he wondered if she really believed that he would let her go. Did she really believe that she didn't owe him wifely duties in spite of the odd start to their marriage?

  She was in for a rude awakening!

  His arms tightened just before she had maneuvered herself out of his embrace, and he pulled her all the way back to his chest. She tried to pull away again, harder this time and far less furtive in her movements than she had been before. “Talus, stop it! What are you doing?” she squeaked as her struggles developed into full-out wrestling.

  He locked his jaw, grabbing her wrists into one of his hands easily. “Stay still, wife,” he ordered, making a mental note to himself to force her to call him 'husband' by whatever means necessary! She had to learn.

  For a moment, she did stay still… but it wasn't from obedience. Only shock shone out of her eyes. When she became animated again, it was now with full force. “I'm going to continue your birching, young lady, if I have to wrestle you down,” he told her through gritted teeth.

  Frowning, she stopped struggling, her face flushing again. “What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice braking back into a sob.

  “I'm going to kiss you,” he informed her, his voice softening. Damn her tears! He released her wrists and put his fingers up to her wet cheek. “You're my wife, Wenda. You have duties to me.”

  “You won't force me,” she said, trying to use her faith in him as a talisman to protect her.

  His eyes narrowed. “I didn't force you to marry me. Quite the opposite, in fact. Do you want to annul this marriage and have Nicklaus send you to a nunnery?”

  Her eyes rounded, looking slapped. Gradually, she shook her head and whispered, “No, of course not, but…” she sniffed, and more tears came forth.

  It was beyond frustrating; how could he fuck her when she acted like this? She had actually won this round. He would give her a few hours to let everything settle in, and then he'd try again…

  Except he could imagine that her sadness was going to get worse, not better, if they stayed in the palace. After being a spectacle that morning, she was in for a reckoning. She would be made fun of, spurned, jibed, until she was just a shell of herself. He didn’t want to force her after that hell, either.

  His bed was looking very cold for a very long while in his mind's view unless something very big happened to change the situation.

  And then it came to him.

  * * *

  Talus suddenly gave her a push away from him, even though he wouldn't allow an inch between them merely moments ago. His expression, dark and lustful, hadn't changed since he put it on.

  “Dress and go back to your chambers. You will stay there for three days to compose yourself and let the uproar in the palace settle down. Your nurse will see to your needs, of course. Then, on Thursday morning, you will depart with me on a lengthy journey,” he demanded of her immediately. He stood, adjusting his trousers for a moment.

  “A journey…” she swallowed. “Where are we going?”

  He raised an eyebrow, frustrated at her questioning. “It matters not to you. We'll be gone four months hence. I will bring you and you alone.”

  Wenda felt herself paling slightly. Except for a few week-long hunting trips, she hadn't gone long without her nurse… And she had never been away from the palace for more than a couple of weeks before. “Why?” she demanded. “Your castle estate isn't even built yet! It won't be finished for a year hence!”

  He was exasperated now, like he was her tutor and she a dumb pupil who couldn't get her brain around a simple concept. “Yes, so rest assured that I won't be taking you there. I will take you somewhere where you can gain an understanding of your wifely duties—all of them. Cooking, cleaning, all of it.”

  She swallowed. She was supposed to do those things with her own hands? She had hoped for a very, very good steward to run her future household for her… Nicklaus had always told her to hope for one. “If you expect me to clean and cook for you, then you're going to be a very dirty and hungry man,” she warned him, trying to keep her tone impish and playful. “I've never been taught.”

  “I will teach you,” he assured her. “I learned when I was on the battlefront how to do such things for myself. You will learn, and you will learn well, or you will feel my hand on your bare bottom again.”

  Her face reddened and she pressed her lips together. “You're taking me away from here as punishment,” she stated accusingly. “That or as part of some sick game you're playing with me!”

  He picked up her dress and tossed it in her direction. “You and I need to restart our relationship,” he told her. “And I have to take you from here, or else you will be miserable. You have done wrong and even though I have forgiven you, others have not forgotten it. They will be merciless to you. That's why I'm confining you to your chambers while I'm away making preparations. You will take that time to prepare yourself for the journey, as well.”

  Her heart pounded angrily. “You won't even say where we're going, so—” she began to protest, but when he turned and gave her a warning glance, she silenced.

  “All I want to hear from you, wife, is 'Yes, my husband',” he told her in a growl.

  She knew all of his moods, and she knew not to take this one lightly. There would be no arguing with him about it. He would only become more displeased with her, and her bottom throbbed with heated agony already. “Yes, my husband,” she conceded.

  He gave a nod of approval and then opened the door and walked out, leaving her alone.

  * * *

  Talus had disappeared that evening, and he didn’t return until two days later. Wenda, in truth, wasn't going to let herself be confined to her chambers, but every time she attempted to leave she was met with the sharpest, most scornful remarks she'd ever heard, most of which came from Nicklaus' wife, daughters, or sisters.

  It was better to take all her meals in her room and enjoy the few hours she had left with her nurse, who was the only one who would say anything nice to her after what Wenda had done. Of course, her nurse would be kind to her if Wenda was the type to kill people and hide them under the bed—the woman unconditionally loved her like few others did.

  When her nurse heard that she was supposed to clean and cook for Talus, she did her best to give Wenda a crash-course on at least how to boil water. She'd never done more than pour wine into a glass when it came to those sorts of duties. Even making the bed was new to her.

  As for wifely duties—her nurse had tried to broach that subject more than once. Each time Wenda would avoid the subject. Her nurse snorted and murmured under her breath, “If only I could do that duty for you.” She'd surprised Wenda by saying it in a way that made her realize that her nurse thought Talus was quite a handsome man.

  “You… you're attracted to… to Talus?” Wenda asked, shocked.

  “Sweet thing,” her nurse simply sighed, “every woman within a thousand leagues would probably kill you if they thought it would help them take him for themselves. I've never known a woman, noble or otherwise, not to swoon over your husband. Be wary of other ladies,” she added with a warning tone.

  Wenda had blinked, mystified. She hadn't really ever looked at Talus like that
before. When he had grabbed her onto his lap after her birching, she had been shocked that he was so quick to touch her, never thinking him to be a sexual being. Sure, he'd gone to brothels. She knew that, but she hadn't thought about it. Now that she was married to him, she was beginning to realize that Talus was a lusty man who was going to demand much from his wife.

  “How could you slander him, hoping that he'd marry you, when you've never thought about it?” her nurse had screeched with frustration.

  Wenda shrugged. “I just never did…” she wiggled her nose thoughtfully. The more she thought about it, the more she realized why other women had seen Talus as attractive. For one, he was tall—which was fine and good unless he was using his size to pull a lady over his knee…

  She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes in frustration as she drew his visage in her mind.

  Wenda always did like his eyes, although before she was mostly concerned with the way he was looking at her—when she was growing up, all she ever wanted to do was to please him. She liked the crow's feet that had always been at the corners of his eyes when he laughed, and for a man who didn't speak much, or at least not as much as his companions did, he laughed a lot. Still, there was a stony seriousness in his appearance that his friends—not Nicklaus, not his men, not even her—could ever hope to duplicate. He had the ability to wear his displeasure like a thick blanket.

  “With that wicked grin he has and those big hands… broad shoulders… narrow waist… and those eyes! Those wonderful, gorgeous eyes… like a storm…” her nurse had swooned when Wenda hadn't gotten her off the subject fast enough. “My sister used to say that she wished she could die and come back as Lord Talus' shirt, so to be close to that chest every day.” Her nurse had been giggling like a schoolgirl after that! “As for myself, I like a strong sort of man with a good, deep voice.”