Dances were danced, music was played, songs were sung, speeches were delivered, a feast was eaten, and much wine was consumed. The festivities continued until the moons began to descend in the sky, giving way to the East sun’s light. There were moments during which someone would ask were Larian was, or searched for Lizbett, but with so much frivolity the question was soon forgotten and the hunt given up. It never occurred to anyone that the happy couple had eaten very little and drunk even less, and with Zoltaire’s help they had climbed upon Thunder who had spirited them away to their cottage.
While Larian waited in the small living room, where just a few days before she’d been made to kneel and listen to her list of naughty crimes, Lizbett changed into her wedding night gown.
It was soft mauve, like her eyes, with strips of white lace sewn in a haphazard way, and rather than long and flowing as was the custom, she’d had the dressmaker cut it short, so it fell only to mid-thigh.
The dressmaker had tittered and scolded, but Lizbett would not be swayed and ignoring the disapproving words had ordered the woman to finish the garment, adding glittering stones around the low scooped neckline.
When the dressmaker asked about the petticoats, how many and what fabric, Lizbett had stunned the woman even more by stating there would be none, and nor did she didn’t need any fine silk underwear.
The look on the dressmaker’s face was so shocked Lizbett decided to spare the poor woman and told her she already had the perfect pair of underwear, and some very fine petticoats that had been sent from the castle.
Standing in the small bedroom she stared at herself in the reflecting glass. The nightdress was scandalous, and with nothing underneath it was doubly scandalous; it showed all her curves and the full extent of her legs, but her favorite part was how her nipples were pointing through the thin, flimsy fabric.
Larian had placed clean bedclothes on the mattress and brought two oil lamps from the house, one for the living area and one for the bedroom. With the night at its darkest with the waning moons, the single lamp was the only light, and it’s soft luminescence gave her skin an incandescent glow, her mauve eyes depth, made the stones around the neck of her nightgown glitter, and gave the necklace around her neck a brilliant radiance.
“I’m ready,” she called.
Larian had removed all his clothes except his vest, wanting to wear the significant garment for the first coupling with his bride. If there was ever a time to wear a garment that could be used only for special occasions, then this night would forever be at the top of that list.
Moving through the arched entry he stopped and stared, first at the pendant around her neck. Its sparkling intensity was mesmerizing, but when his eye dropped to the tiny twinkling beads around her neck that highlighted the top of her breasts, and continued down the wicked attire that stopped at mid-thigh, his cock, already at half-mast, sprang to life.
“There are no words,” he mumbled. “What you are wearing? You must wear this every single day. How did you find such a garment?”
“I had it made,” she boasted. “The dressmaker was horrified.”
“I’m sure,” he grinned, “but I am not. I am overcome.”
Striding forward ran his fingers across her nipples pointing so unashamedly through the flimsy fabric.
“You are naked under this thing!” he exclaimed.
“I am, Sir,” she giggled.
“Oh, Lizbett, you must be spanked for such wickedness,” he declared, and moving to the bed he sat on the edge and laid her over his knee. “I shall spank you through this thin garment, then on your bare bottom.”
“Of course you will,” she said looking over her shoulder at him with a cheeky grin.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“There was more than one reason I had it made,” she giggled.
“Ooh you are so naughty,” he said with mock sternness. “So you want to be spanked, do you? Well, then, spanked you shall be.”
He smacked his hand with a decisive swat in the center of her bottom, his wide hand covering both cheeks.
“OW!”
“Yes, protest, you will protest some more,” he declared smacking her again.
“OW!”
“And some more,” he repeated landing another.
Pushing the slip of material up her back he smiled at the pink stain on her beautiful bottom.
“Not red enough.”
“I don’t know, I can’t see it,” she giggled. “I think you should let me up so I can see it in the reflecting glass.”
“Such impudence!” he exclaimed pretending to be shocked. “You need to be profoundly spanked!”
Setting to work in an easy rhythm he slapped her with just enough force to bring a hot tingle to her skin, then touching between her legs he felt her warm dew and pressed his fingers into her trough.
“Oh, my sweet maiden,” he purred, “are you ready for my powerful cock?”
“So ready, Larian, I’ve been ready for so long. I feel as if I’ve been ready since we were together all that time ago in the stables.”
“I feel that way too,” he said softly. “First though, I must adore your beautiful breasts. Lay on the bed.”
As she crawled off his lap he couldn’t resist giving her a final swat, and when she rolled on to her back, and her mauve eyes twinkled up at him, he shook his head.
“No woman should be so beguiling,” he breathed.
Lowering himself on top of her he brought his hands to her breasts, and gripping them tightly through the fragile fabric he moved his mouth from one rosebud to the other.
His playful nipping and gentle sucking sent her moaning, and though she tried to lift her pelvis under him, his weight would not allow it. She could feel his rod, and the more attention he paid to her mounds the more she wanted to feel it slide inside her.
“Oh, Sir, that feels so amazing,” she moaned, “but please, won’t you take me?”
“Be assured I will definitely take you,” he murmured, “but in my own time. The more you beg, the longer you will wait, unless your begging is so sincere it touches my heart.”
“Larian, you are so hard,” she groaned.
“Yes, I am, and yes, I am,” he murmured lifting his head and winking at her.
She thumped his shoulder, but it only brought a painful nip to her red rosebuds in response.
“I surrender,” she bleated, “do with me what you will.”
“Ah, there you are,” he smiled, “and while I think the words are only words said to achieve your end, I still like to hear them.”
He rose up, and grabbing her hair he pressed his mouth upon hers, then did something new, something he’d been saving; he thrust his tongue between her teeth. She jolted, then began to relax as he explored her mouth; her tongue began responding, dancing with his.
“Larian,” she gasped when he pulled back, “Larian, I must have you, please, it almost painful.”
“This time I believe you,” he crooned staring into her eyes, “but before I make you mine, I have another gift for you. It will surprise you, but you must sink into the feeling. I promise you will be very happy.”
Swiftly moving down her body he lowered himself between her legs, and placing his hands on the insides of her thighs he pushed them apart.
“What are you doing?” she bleated staring down at him.
Scooting his palms under her warm cheeks he gripped them tightly, then placed his tongue on her sensitive nub. She wailed in shock, but ignoring her momentary panic he continued to swirl his tongue, pressing firmly, and covering her with his mouth he began to gently suck.
“Ooh, Sir, that is…that is…ooh…”
He lapped and kissed, nibbled and circled, then slid his finger forward, finding her culvert sopping and open. She cried out as his finger pumped and his tongue danced, then sitting up he clutched her hips and pulled her pelvis into his.
“Larian, that was magic, sheer, brilliant magic.”
“This,” he declared placing his s
wollen member at her entrance, “this is magic,” and slowly pushing forward he made her his own.
Her pussy was beyond his imaginings, hot, tight, pulsing and needy, and she moaned her pleasure with every stroke.
“Tell me,” he growled, “tell me how it feels.”
“Like you are possessing me, it is so strong and big, there is no pain, just a demand for my surrender.”
Her words drove him, compelling him to acutely fuck her, and pulling out he flipped her over, hauled her hips towards him, and surging forward began riding her with gusto. His moment was quickly upon him so he slowed, impaling her with soft, easy strokes, and raising his palm he caressed her pink backside before landing several hot swats.
“I am so close,” she mewled, “but it’s different. With every stroke of your mighty cock you bring me closer, but it’s different, its deep, deep within me.”
He was overjoyed. He had been taught women had two climatic moments; one was easy to achieve, and was accomplished by teasing her nugget, but the other was borne from thrusting, and while more difficult to attain it offered a greater, more profound pleasure.
“I shall ride you until you are there,” he promised, and clenching his teeth he plunged forward.
He used all his discipline to stop himself from exploding, riding her then slowing, riding her even more forcefully, then slowing, but her moment seemed evasive; he was at the brink of thinking he had been too ambitious when suddenly, without warning, she began to wail.
Only once before had he heard the sound; it was deep, like a groundswell from the depths of her soul, and when her cavern walls clutched, grabbing him like a strong hand, he knew he had accomplished his goal and taken her to ecstasy.
The wailing continued as she gyrated her hips, and he held himself still, allowing her to do whatever she needed to savor the climax, but his cock would not be denied and began spewing inside her.
His eruption was all he’d hoped for, sparking his body with hot prickling tingles, and when her wails finally gave way to breathless gasps, his cock fell flaccid from her depths.
Collapsing next to her, believing his heart would soon leap from his chest if he didn’t calm it, he could hear her softly sobbing.
“Lizbett,” he cooed still trying to catch his breath, “did I hurt you? What’s wrong?”
“I have no idea,” she sniffled, “it just overwhelmed me and I felt so much.”
He rocked her softly, feeling that she was softer and sweeter than before, that his uncle had been right. The power of his body uniting with hers was the key to their happiness, and her ultimate contentment.
“It has been an emotional day, and an even more emotional night,” he said tenderly. “I vowed to hold you as you cry, or was it cheer you when you are sad?”
“I think it should be both,” she replied smiling up at him between her tears. “I’m fine, it was an unexplained thing but it’s passing. What I feel now is sheer happiness.”
“To spend all night with you, every night, yes, sheer happiness,” he murmured.
They drifted for a short time, then stirring to the feel of a chill she sat up and pulled the coverlets over them.
“Can I ask you something?” she said softly as she laid back down.
“Anything.”
“That thing you did, when you put your tongue on me, that was…that was…”
“That was something very unique and will only happen on special occasions. I don’t want to spoil you, you’ve been spoiled enough.”
“What kind of occasions?” she pressed.
“Tonight obviously, as a special surprise and to show you there is always more I can give you, perhaps when we celebrate the changing of the seasons, or…” he paused, creating a dramatic moment…
“Or what?”
“Or, if you go for let’s say, twenty passes of the moons, and there is nothing on your naughty list. If you can be that good I will give you that as a reward.”
“That stupid naughty list,” she grumbled.
“That stupid naughty list is about to be written upon if you keep complaining about it.”
Flopping back down she mumbled,
“I can do that. I can go for twenty passes of the moon without doing something wrong, I’m sure I can.”
“Princess,” he purred, “you can do anything you want, have anything you want, you just have to want it badly enough.”
“Like us,” she sighed, “even after all that time, neither of us wanted anyone else, and here we are.”
“And here we are.”
EPILOGUE
Larian’s uncle had arrived the morning of the wedding, and had been invited to stay as long as he wished. A warrior of warriors, with instincts and senses keener that even Larian’s, he had seen the happy couple slip away long before anyone had noticed they’d disappeared, by which time nobody cared. He decided to wait three passes of the moons, and if they did not return he would leave. To his surprise they were home and at the midday meal the following day. Lizbett was aglow, and he’d never seen Larian more at peace.
When she excused herself, saying she needed a long soak, it left Larian and his uncle to have a talk. After discussing the ceremony and latest gossip, Larian took great pride in sharing the success of the naughty list.
“This is excellent,” his uncle said proudly, “though I would advise not using it too long, it may loose some of its charm. You can always bring it back if you need to.”
“If I do put it away for a time, what might you suggest in its place?”
“There is little a woman dislikes more than a solemn man around her, a man who is not happy with her but doesn’t punish her. It sends a message that she has greatly displeased him.”
“Ah, I can see that,” Larian nodded.
“But this method can only be used sparingly, like the tongue on the nugget.”
“Understood.”
“When will you begin her training, in earnest I mean? Do you have a place ready?”
“She is a passionate soul, and responds fiercely. I believe it must be done slowly, and yes, I have a place. It is secret, and safe, and perfect.”
“Excellent,” his uncle nodded, “and now I think she is probably waiting for you to wash her back. This is the day after your wedding. It should not be intruded upon by an old relative.”
“You’re not old, and you could never intrude upon me. You could live here if you wished and we would be overjoyed to have you,” Larian said warmly.
“I will be leaving as the West sun sets. I like to sleep in the carriage and wake up at home. It seems to make the journey shorter, and I like the rocking of the coach.”
“We will be here to wave you off,” Larian promised.
Standing up he grabbed a large slice of cake, and with a wink to his uncle he headed out of the room and up the stairs.
Entering his bed chamber he found the coverlets turned down, and placed the cake on a nearby table. Moving into the anteroom he found Lizbett laying back in the tub, her eyes closed, and petals of rosamine floating in the water.
“How did you get this filled so fast?” he asked as he walked over.
Opening her eyes she smiled up at him.
“Falayla. It was ready when I arrived,” she answered sitting up. “She’d guessed I’d want a soak so she filled the tub after the morning meal. She is so thoughtful. May we keep her as my personal servant?”
“Yes, definitely,” he nodded. “Why are the coverlets down?”
“Because after this soak I am going to take a nap. These last ten days have worn me out. I’m so weary…husband,” she twinkled.
“I have brought you a piece of cake. It’s on the table. You can have it just before you snooze.”
“And what are you going to do? I know you won’t want to sleep until much later.”
“I have something I must attend to, then I’ll be saying goodbye to Uncle.”
“Will you come back and check on me when he leaves? If I’m awake I want to say good
bye.”
“I will. Soak and sleep, my sweet wife,” he smiled, then leaning down he softly kissed her.
Sinking back she watched him leave, and closing her eyes she let herself drift.
Marching to the stables, Larian had the stable boy saddle Thunder, then galloped him across the back fields of his property. It wasn’t a long ride, but in the middle of the rolling hills it felt like the middle of nowhere, and slowing to a trot he approached the brick tower.
It wasn’t a ruin, but a splendid well preserved fortress with solid wooden doors that opened to an expansive foyer. A large table sat in front of a fireplace, and he could well imagine warriors once seated there, sharing game cooked on a spit in the fire before them.
A nearby doorway led to a cozy chamber offering a large, carved, four poster bed. It sat proudly in the middle of the room, and had beckoned him the day he’d first walked in; when he’d brought fresh coverlets he was amazed at the lack of dust and dirt on those he pulled off.
Climbing the winding steps to another chamber that he’d initially found empty, he grinned as he opened the door and entered; during the days before he’d left to return to Verdana, he’d filled it with all manner of sexual devices. This was to be his training chamber, this was to be where Lizbett would learn about things she’d not even imagined, and he had a lifetime to teach her.
A while later, after spending time contemplating his days past and the days stretching ahead of him, he galloped Thunder home, returning in time to see his uncle into his carriage. Lizbett rose from his bed to be at his side, and as they waved goodbye he put his arm around her and hugged her tightly.
“Are you ready for what’s ahead?” he asked.
Gazing into his aqua eyes she nodded her head.
“I am, whatever it may be. You were right, I am finding strength in not trying to be strong all the time. It’s the oddest thing.”
“The greatest freedom,” he said solemnly, “can be found in giving up control.”
* * * * * * * * *
FIVE STAR REVIEWS FOR
MAGGIE CARPENTER
I AM A DOMINANT
Review: G Jackson
The Warrior and the Petulant Princess Page 20