CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
As she knew he would Larian kept his promise, and the following morning she found herself over his lap, squirming as his hand smacked the sensitive area where her thighs kissed her bottom. The spanking was rapid and sharp, and though quickly over it left her gasping and urgently wishing she could rub away the sting.
“Remember, there will be many people here every day until our wedding. They will be busy and probably nervous, wanting everything to be perfect,” he said as his hand roamed over her cheeks. “You must be patient and kind. They will have questions, and if you’re unsure you must find me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whimpered, “I’ll be good.”
“I’ll hear about it if you’re not,” he warned, “and I won’t hesitate to add any naughtiness to my list.”
“Ooh, that dreaded list,” she groaned.
He toyed with her breasts more than he had before, keeping her on her back with her arms raised above her head, and exerted complete control over her body, but again time was their foe and he was forced to bring them to their end before he would have liked.
Their passionate secret mornings continued but he varied their play, and though it always began with a spanking he varied that as well, sometimes swatting the center of her full, round cheeks, other times bending her over pillows on the bed and landing his belt with a couple of lashes, whatever happened to take his fancy.
As the days slipped away he was able to replace the first artificial phallus with a second, larger one, and was confident that by the time their wedding night was upon them, he would have prepared her sufficiently to accept his large member.
Lizbett had made it a habit to visit Scarlet directly after lunch. Taking carrots, apples and melon from the table, she would carry them in a basket to the paddock where Scarlet was living. There were horses on either side, and Lizbett noticed her mare had begun making friends, and had taken a special liking for two gray geldings who looked like identical twins. They were older and very calm, and Lizbett guessed Scarlet was drawn to their mellow nature.
She would feed her the treats from the basket, but would scold her if she became to grabby, and to Lizbett’s amazement Scarlet began to wait until the food was offered. Each time Scarlet was soft and easy, Lizbett would stroke her neck and talk to her softly, but if Scarlet was aggressive and tried to snatch the food from her hand or the basket, Lizbett made it very clear it was unacceptable.
“I’m so proud of her,” Lizbett said to Larian over dinner one night. “She’s being so good, and it didn’t take much.”
Larian smiled and nodded knowingly, delighted that Lizbett was finding a new and better path with her beloved mare.
One morning, however, there was no phallus, no warm caresses, and no pleasure for Lizbett; it was time to address the list. Entering the cottage he immediately ordered her to kneel in the center of the small living room.
“I don’t know if you’ve been counting the passes of the moon, Lizbett, but it has come time to discuss your naughty list.”
“The list? Oh, no.”
“Yes, let me see here,” he said sternly as he pulled a chair from the modest table and sat in front of her. “My goodness, you were a bad girl, but you’ve been quite well behaved since I began spanking you every morning.”
He read of her list of naughty crimes, then announced how she would be disciplined for each one.
The first punishment she anticipated; he was going to rub her nugget until she was about to have her moment, then deny her.
The second she did not expect; following the time she spent with Scarlet after lunch, she had to return to her chamber and was not allowed out until the rise of the East sun the following morning, when he arrived to collect her.
“I will be sure your evening meal will be brought to you on a tray, but otherwise you will not be disturbed. I will tell everyone you are suffering from a pain in your head. The time alone will give you an opportunity to think about what a naughty girl you’ve been.”
The third she found very unpleasant; when she was exiled to her chamber he was going to give her his dirty riding boots, a cloth and some polish, and she was to make them shine; it was the work of a servant girl.
“You have been much too proud and arrogant, and you must have a lesson in humility,” he decreed.
Having laid sentence, he made her stand in front of him with her petticoats raised and her feet apart while he massaged her to the point of release, but then he had an additional surprise.
“I know how temptation can be,” he said firmly, “so I have something to prevent you from making a grave error.”
Opening a drawer on the sideboard he retrieved a long, thick piece of wadding with thin cord running through and around it. Where the wadding ended the cord continued, creating a tail on each end.
After tying a separate cord around her waist, he placed the center of the wadding between her legs, then pulled both tails of the cord tightly upward, sending the back one between her cheeks, then with an extra tug, tied both front and back tails to the cord he’d secured around her waist.
“You will not be able to undo those knots, Lizbett, nor will you be able to wriggle your fingers inside the wadding.”
“Uh, Sir?” she mumbled, a red flush of embarrassment crossing her face, “what if I need to…uh…relieve myself.”
“I will be checking on you, and will remove it when necessary,” he said casually.
Any additional spanking was notably absent, and when they left the cottage, her tiny nugget throbbing with need and the wadding only adding to the hunger, she felt the weight of the discipline. Spanking would have been much easier to bear; her punishments carried far more unpleasantness.
The following morning, however, when the discipline was over, he was exceptionally affectionate and loving, and brought her to a spectacular climax.
“I promise I will try so very hard to please you,” she whispered laying in his arms. “Those punishments were awful but that’s not why. I will try hard because I want you to be proud of me.”
“I am proud of you, but I am even prouder when you behave properly,” he purred.
Falayla arrived later that day, and was thrilled by the honor. A cot had been placed in a small room off the kitchen, and though it was a tiny space the village maiden had never known a room of her own and was overjoyed. As the time passed, Lizbett gave her various tasks and found the girl not only to be bright and efficient but very easy to be around, and began considering her as her permanent personal servant.
On the last pass of the moons before their wedding the house finally began to look as the designers from the Palace had described. To compliment the color of the home they had chosen yellow and white flowers to grace the terrace, and when the tables had arrived and been put in place, Lizbett could envision how fabulous the banquet would be.
On the back lawn, where it had been decided the ceremony would take place, a white arch covered in pink and yellow blossoms was waiting, with three rows of chairs placed directly in front where the guests would be seated.
“It’s all so exciting,” she gushed standing on the lawn gazing at it.
“I heard you decided to have a new dress made,” Larian whispered.
“Who told you?” she demanded. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“It will be. I haven’t seen it,” he laughed.
That night they were obligated to attend a special dinner at the Prince’s Palace in Zanderone. It was to be a small affair, with some nobles with whom Larian was acquainted and mutual friends of the King and the Prince.
Larian could not have been prouder of his bride. She glided through the night with grace and charm, was pleasant to everyone, and he heard many comments about her easy manner, and the soft mauve eyes that sparkled like the pinpricks in the sky. Traveling back to his house in the carriage he held her fondly on his lap, kissed her lips, then carried them to her neck to whisper in her ear.
“This time tomorrow we w
ill be husband and wife,” he purred, “and will be sleeping together through the full passes of the moon.”
“I can’t wait,” she sighed resting her head against his shoulder, “and I can’t wait to feel you…your cock…entering me.” Her words sent his manhood surging to life, and sitting on his lap she felt it too. “It seems the feeling is mutual,” she giggled.
“You have no idea, Princess,” he sighed. “You know I won’t be knocking on your door when the East sun rises.”
“We didn’t talk about it, but I assumed not.”
“After breakfast I will not meet you again until we stand before your father and my uncle.”
“Was the Prince very disappointed?”
“Yes, but tonight it was decided he would be with them during the ceremony, and though he can’t do any of the speaking he is still appeased.”
“My heart is beating so hard,” she breathed. “I believe my eyes will not close at all tonight.”
“I must enter Zinyana, otherwise mine will be staring out at the sky, and I want to be at full power for our wedding night.”
“Oh, must you say such things?” she moaned.
The carriage rolled to the front of the house, and though the moons were high in the sky they found people still working on the decorations, and walking inside they could hear noise from the kitchen.
“It appears you will not be the only one who might lose sleep,” Larian remarked.
“Falayla said she has a sleeping tonic, do you think I should take it?” she asked as they made their way up the stairs.
“I wouldn’t. It might upset your stomach, and I’d rather you be a bit sleepy than sick.”
“Very true,” she nodded.
They reached her bed chamber, and taking her in his arms he held her tightly, then clutching her hair he gently tilted back her head.
“Listen to me,” he said gently, his aqua eyes gazing into hers. “Tomorrow when we join our lives, when we say those special words, I will mean every one of them. I have loved you since we were silly and young, and that has taken on a strength and power that has stunned me. I will move mountains to protect you, Lizbett, and you will always come first.”
“Larian,” she breathed, the threat of tears making her throat hot, “I cannot move mountains as you can, but it is true, the power of my love feels as strong as you say.”
His mouth found hers, and he kissed her with an urgent, demanding, prolonged kiss, a kiss that made her heart pound in her chest and her pussy pulse, and a kiss that shattered all other kisses they had ever shared.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered as he broke away.
“Tomorrow,” she repeated breathlessly.
He opened her door, watched her enter, then turning on his heel he strode away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Standing under the arch, the yellow and pink flowers trailing around them, Larian thought Lizbett looked like a Goddess. Her long red hair was woven with sparkling thread, and her dress was yards upon yards of diaphanous folds of white and gold that floated around her like a cloud.
Dressed in his Commander’s uniform, the vest of the Warrior Of The First Order glistening in the sun, the crisp cream shirt unable to hide his muscled arms, Lizbett felt weak as she gazed at him. He was taller and straighter than she’d ever seen him, and his aqua eyes were shining with the brightness of the East sun.
Her father was standing in front of her, his uncle in front of him, and between them the Prince just a few steps behind; the gathered guests fell silent as the King stepped forward.
“Princess Lizbett of Verdana, as your father I give you to this man, Lord Larian Lobergene. Is this your wish?”
“It is, father.
“Place one hand on your heart, and one hand on his.”
Lizbett turned to face Larian, and as their eyes touched she felt a thick, warm stirring in her soul.
I have lived my whole life just to reach this moment. Larian, my stable boy, my warrior, my hero, my heart is going to burst.
“Place one hand on your heart, and one hand on his,” the King repeated.
Breaking from the spell she raised her hands; resting her palm on her chest she could feel her heart beating, and when she slipped her other hand under his vest, it was as though their hearts were beating as one.
“Do you promise to nurse your beloved when he is sick, warm him when he is cold, cheer him when he is sad, miss him you are separated, lay only with him, and keep him in your heart before all others?”
“I do, father.”
“Do you feel his heart beat with yours?”
“I do, father.”
“Drop your arms to your sides.”
The King stepped back, and Larian’s uncle stepped forward.
“Lord Larian Lobergene, as your uncle, I give you to this woman, Princess Lizbett of Verdana. Is this your wish?”
“It is, Uncle.
“Place one hand on your heart, and one hand on hers.”
Larian lifted his hands and gently placed one on her chest, and the other on his, and just as Lizbett had moments before, Larian felt the same flood of warmth wash over him.
“Do you promise to nurse your beloved when she is sick, warm her when she is cold, cheer her when she is sad, miss her when you are separated, lay only with her, and keep her in your heart before all others?”
“I do, Uncle.”
“Do you feel her heart beat with yours?”
“I do, Uncle.”
“Drop your arms to your sides.”
Larian’s uncle stepped back, and the King stepped forward and addressed the guests.
“The union of these two souls is forever. They make these promises in front of you, their dearest friends and loving family, to show their love and seek your blessing. Do you give your blessing?”
In unison the seated guests replied,
“We give our blessing.”
Larian’s uncle stepped forward.
“Is there anyone here who does not give their blessing?” he called.
He waited a beat then turned back to Larian.
“Larian, place your hand on her heart.”
The King turned to Lizbett.
“Lizbett, place your hand on his heart, and the two of you speaking as one repeat this; I give my heart to you, it belongs only to you, and my love will cherish you through all our days together.”
Fighting her joyful tears Lizbett began to speak first, then Larian joined in, finding his voice difficult to control, and when they’d finished the King told them to drop their hands.
“Larian, do you have a gift for your wife?” the King asked.
“I do,” he smiled.
Turning to his uncle he accepted a black, square box and slowly lifted the lid, and as Lizbett gazed down she caught her breath; it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. A glittering mauve stone was set in gold, surrounded by smaller stones that sparkled like the sun twinkling on the waters of a lake, and a thick gold chain was threaded through a ring at the top.
“I give you this gift as a token of my love,” Larian began. “The stone is like your infinite mauve eyes as they gaze at me, your pure soul shining through them. The sparkling stones that surround it are like the pinpricks in the night sky that live in infinity, as does our love. This will hover next to your heart so you will feel my love as I feel yours, so you may raise your hand and touch it, as you touch my soul. The gold is precious, as you are precious, and the stones can never be ground or broken. Like us they will endure forever.”
Lifting the pendant from the box he placed it around her neck, and though his fingers were thick they were nimble, and he had the clasp quickly closed.
There was a murmuring through the guests, as was allowed, then Larian’s uncle stepped forward.
“Lizbett, do you have a gift for your husband?”
“I do,” she smiled, and took a silver metal box from her father.
Turning back to Larian she lifted the lid, and sitting in a swath
of shining red fabric sat a wide wristband of silver woven with gold, clearly the work of an elite craftsman. It appeared to be thick and heavy, and in the center set in ebony, was the carving of a black horse with a flowing mane, four white socks and a white blaze over its face.
As Larian stared he felt an impossible lump in his throat; what she had done was perfection.
“I give you this gift as a token of my love,” she managed as the tears began to flow. “It is strong, like you, it is precious, like you, it will grace your wrist so when you must fight, you will feel my love protecting you and giving your arm even greater strength. It shines, as your eyes shine at me with your soul’s love. The black horse is Thunder, but it is also the thunder that you bring forth as a warrior, as a commander, and as a man. This band can never be dissolved, broken or set aflame and is, as we are, forever.”
Handing the box to her father she lifted out the band, and as Larian offered his arm, she turned it sideways and slipped it over the narrow side of his wrist. Taking his other hand Larian squeezed it, closing it so it could not slip off.
The King stepped between them, and in a loud voice that was reserved for proclamations he began to speak.
“The vows have been made, the gifts have been offered and accepted, and by law I now declare, with much pride and joy, that Princess Lizbett of Verdana, and Lord Larian Lobergen of Zanderone, are wed.”
The gathered crowd were silent, waiting to see how Larian would celebrate the moment and they were not disappointed. He placed his wide hands around her waist, kissed her lightly, then lifted her off her feet and spun her around. She squealed in delight and everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering.
“We did it,” she laughed as the tears spilled down her face. “We actually did it.”
“Yes we did,” he laughed back, as he placed her on her feet he whispered, “and you know you’re in for a lifetime of spankings.”
Looking up at him with twinkling eyes she whispered back, “I hope so.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Warrior and the Petulant Princess Page 19