by Golden Angel
******
Grace stood in the middle of their bedroom, watching warily as Alex locked the door behind him. He'd been silent the entire carriage ride home, the glimpses of his face in the moonlight had shown a contemplative expression. Honestly, she would have been more reassured to see anger. There had been times during the evening when she'd been sure his temper had been stirring; his control over himself made her feel anxious for some reason.
Maybe because she wasn't sure how he was going to react now.
If she'd ever behaved in such a way with her father present, he probably would have dragged her from the dinner and confined her to her room for days. Probably with as little food as possible. If she resisted, she would earn a cuff or two from his fist. Then he'd ignore her again, even after she was released, unless she did something else to gain his ire.
It occurred to her that she was more comfortable with such visible anger and predictable repercussions than she was with Alex's silent contemplation.
Was he fed up with her now? Was he going to leave her? But if he was, then why lock her in the room with him? Did that mean that Eleanor had been right and he was going to spank her? A warm flush seemed to shudder through her, from her core up to her cheeks and back down again, at the thought. It might be perverse, but she would rather be spanked than sent away and rejected again.
Spanking her took effort on Alex's part. Effort that he didn't actually need to expend when it would be much easier to give up on her and divorce her. Spanking meant that he wanted to correct her behavior, because he wanted to keep her. At least, she hoped that's what it meant. She knew where her hope had gotten her before, but at least this was hope tempered with a kind of proof.
It made more sense for him to divorce her than to reconcile with her. Especially when he still hadn't claimed his marital rights. If all he wanted was an heir from her, then wouldn't he have done that already? She was his wife; legally it wouldn't be seen as forcing her. In fact, legally, she was the one currently in the wrong by denying him.
Alex turned around, his eyes looking darker than usual in the candlelight, fixing her in place with his gaze. She felt the tremor that went through her body, half excitement, half fear. When he looked at her like that, she couldn't help her body's response, the way her nipples tightened and her womanhood became hot and wet with need. She swore she could already feel an anticipatory tingle in her bottom, and her hands reflexively went behind her back, covering her cheeks.
"Turn around, Gracie, I'm going to help you take your dress off."
She didn't protest the use of his nickname for her anymore. It made her ache bitterly, for the memories, but at the same time it warmed her. Besides, he always went back to calling her that, even if he stopped for a bit.
Taking her hands off of her bottom, she turned around and wrung them in front of her, waiting for his touch.
Fingers drifted over the back of her neck and down her exposed spine. The gown she was wearing wasn't scandalous, but it was fashionably low, and she shivered as he traced a line down the center of her back until he reached the neckline. She could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck as her gown started to sag, drooping a little more with each button that was undone.
Grace told herself that she wasn't enjoying this.
However, she did enjoy his low, tortured groan as he relieved her of her corset, leaving her only in a thin, translucent chemise. She had to admit, she was having trouble standing firm in her resistance to him right now. Especially because he obviously had no intention of sending her away. No, he still wanted to reconcile. She still felt like there must be an ulterior motive, but it must be a damn good one. Tomorrow she'd search his study and see what she could find.
Alex walked around her and sat down on the bed. He'd taken his jacket, waistcoat and cravat off already and was undoing the laces on his sleeves to roll them up. Seeing him bare his forearms, the same way he'd done the last time he'd spanked her, sent a jolt of butterflies through her stomach.
She still didn't understand his motivations, but she did know that his firm resolve to correct her behavior aroused her. Comforted her in some way. Why go to all the effort of taming a recalcitrant wife? Why hold her afterwards? Unless there were emotions pressing in.
Hope had slayed her heart the last time, and she was afraid to hope again, but it burned in her chest anyway. Nearly choking her with the unresolved desires and dreams that she thought she'd given up. Because, deep down, she'd never wanted Alex to divorce her, she'd never wanted to travel to the Continent or America to start over with some other man; no, she'd wanted him. Him, the way she'd dreamed they would be.
To wonder if such a thing might be within her grasp again... it made her heart sing at the same time that it terrified her.
******
Beautiful didn't begin to describe his wife. She was staring at him with the strangest expression on her face, one that he couldn't possible interpret. Something had changed within her. Even though she was still his little firebrand, now she wasn't acting like her usual spirited self.
He'd expected a fight to undress her. Instead, she'd meekly acquiesced. Now she seemed to be waiting for his next move. But not exactly warily... almost expectantly. Hopefully. Her arms hung at her sides, not at all trying to cover herself. The pert pink nipples of her breasts were rosy against the fabric of her chemise, the shadow of her womanhood easily visible. Tension shimmered in the air between them, her soft lips open as her breath quickened.
Had she wanted to be spanked?
"Come here, Gracie," he said, keeping his voice stern and his face blank as he patted his lap. She shook her head, her hands clenching into little fists at her sides. "Yes. Now, Grace. Or I'll get your hairbrush. Considering how you've behaved tonight, you shouldn't tempt me to be harsher."
As he watched, her cheeks flushed and then paled, and she took one step closer. He waited patiently, keeping his eyes trained on her face, not saying anything more. There was a struggle going on within her; as long as she made her way to him eventually, he didn't want to make it harder for her.
Each step brought her closer, coming faster as she neared him, her head ducking down as if she was too ashamed or embarrassed to look at him. Alex had her over his lap the moment she reached his side, rubbing his hand over the soft flesh of her ass as he crooned to her.
"Good girl," he said, placing one hand on the small of her back to hold her in place as his other hand squeezed the fleshy globes of her bottom. His cock was snugly caged between her body and his, eagerly rubbing against the front of his pants. The thinness of her drawers would provide no protection, but then that wasn't really the point, was it? He drew them down, feeling her squirm as he did so. "I won't be as hard on you, sweetheart, since you came to me of your own accord. But you do deserve a spanking."
Giving the pale flesh of her ass, one last caress, Alex raised his hand and let it fall with a snap.
SMACK!
The little noise that Grace uttered couldn't rightly be called a whimper or a moan, but it was something in between.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!!!
Spanking her, the advice he'd received from all the men whirled around his head. Hitting her over and over again in one spot would hurt the most eventually. The crease of her bottom and the undersides where the curves met her thighs would be the most sensitive areas to spank. Her thighs would sting her in an entirely different manner. Direct hits to her quim should be gentler than those administered to her bottom.
"You will not feign drunkenness to try and justify your abominable behavior."
SMACK! SMACK!
"You will absolutely not actually become drunk and lewd in public."
SMACK! SMACK!
Grace was starting to cry, her soft mewls and whimpers making his cock even harder as her rosy bottom darkened. Her legs had begun to move restlessly; not kicking yet, but soon they would be.
"You will not flirt with other men."
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Despite his anger and frustration with her, he felt completely in control of himself. It was a cold kind of anger, one that he'd learned to live with. However, he didn't intend to have to live with it for very much longer.
He had to admit, roasting Grace's bottom for her offenses held much greater appeal than he would have ever thought. Feeling her soft body squirming on his lap, her breathy cries filling his ears, her promises to "be good" - well, he wished he'd done this years ago instead of behaving like an utter fool. Especially because she seemed to enjoy it.
Every so often, in between raining spanks down on her tender flesh, he would pause and rub his hand over it instead. From the way she wriggled and whimpered, he knew it wasn't entirely soothing. The heat of her skin told him that she was very sensitive as he dug his fingers into her pliable flesh. A few times his fingers had brushed over the swollen lips of her pussy, which were pouty and wet with arousal.
Still, he didn't think she was getting any kind of pleasure from the punishment itself. Humiliation broke her voice when his fingers probed, and that was when she tried hardest to squirm away. Because she was embarrassed by the wetness coating her nether lips.
It took Alex's breath away to feel that hot, wet slickness at his fingertips. Knowing that it wasn't an aberration; this was not the first time she'd responded like this. He groaned as he slid two fingers into her wet heat, feeling her pussy tighten around them. Using his other hand to squeeze a reddened cheek, he held her tightly on his lap, enjoying the way she squirmed against him while he stroked her insides.
"Alex... oh no...." She gasped and writhed as his fingers found that most sensitive spot inside her body. Since she wasn't actually telling him no, just saying it as if she could ward off the pleasure with her words, he kept going. Pressing. Stroking. Squeezing her buttocks and sending tingling pain to mix with her pleasure.
His cock was rock hard and throbbing, eager to replace his fingers... but he wasn't going to. Not unless she asked. It was almost a trust exercise for them, and he would keep to his word.
Grace cried out, her body shuddering as she climaxed. Her insides clenched around his fingers, especially when he squeezed her bottom. Hips bucking, she rode out her pleasure.
"You don't need other men," Alex murmured, thrusting his fingers in deep. "I'll take care of whatever needs you have, Grace. I want to."
She moaned in response.
Pulling his fingers from the clasp of her body, he had her on her back on the bed within seconds. Although her expression was slightly dazed, her eyes flashed with fear and mistrust as she saw him looming over her.
"I'm not going to take you unless you ask, Gracie," he said, even as he undid the front of his breeches and pulled out his cock.
Although he could understand why she would think so. Her drawers had been left on the floor and he was kneeling between her spread, bare legs. The lips of her pussy glistened in the candlelight, pink and plump and utterly tempting. Her chemise was pushed up, above her gorgeous breasts, her nipples slowly softening from their ripe little buds.
Her lips formed a shocked little 'o' as he grasped his cock in hand and reared up on his knees, looking down at her body, all flushed and feminine. The look of shock on her face as he fisted himself only encouraged him. They'd never done anything like this before. Apparently she'd never seen a man rub himself before, because her wide eyes were glued to the sight.
That shock only heightened as thick, white fluid spurted and arched in the air, painting her naked breasts and stomach with his essence as he groaned his release. The last spurts fell on the dark curls of her mound and the parted lips of her pussy as she drew in a shuddering breath.
Sighing in repletion, Alex released himself and reached down to tug off her chemise. To his surprise, Grace didn't argue with him as he pulled it over her head and then used it to wipe his seed from her body. She just watched him with hooded, confused eyes, nibbling her lower lip the entire time.
His cock was already starting to stir again, but he ignored it. Settling beside her on the bed, he wrapped one heavy arm around her body and dragged her into him. She whimpered a bit as her hot bottom pressed against his groin, his semi-hard cock settling into the crack between her cheeks, but she didn't try to pull away or fight him.
It was the first time that she had let him cuddle her like this, as the light of the candles went out one by one.
Tenderness and triumph ran through him as he stroked her belly and whispered in her ear how beautiful she was. How well she'd taken her punishment. What a good girl she was.
His chest clenched as he felt her relax and then slump into slumber, her body pressed against his and her head resting on his arm.
It might not seem like a very large step, but he knew that it was. He was winning her over, slowly but surely. Surprisingly, spanking seemed to have something to do with it.
Edwin, Hugh and Wesley were definitely onto something.
Chapter 7
The all-too-familiar stirrings of nausea woke her, stronger than ever before. Eleanor groaned, her hand going immediately to her belly. Normally she could hold off in the mornings, at least until Edwin had risen and left the room. Since she often slept a little later than him anyway, he'd never known that she was hiding her sick from him.
But now she felt as though she was going to vomit immediately, and he was still in bed with her, his arm around her head and shoulders, which she had been using for a pillow.
Just stay calm... swallow... breathe... oh God...
She lurched off the bed, stumbling, unable to answer as she heard Edwin call her name, his voice disoriented and confused as she abruptly left the bed. Fortunately, the water basin wasn't too far away and had been left empty. Poppy had learned it was usually for the best to bring a fresh basin every morning, after her mistress had already used the empty one.
Bending over, gripping the sides of the basin, Eleanor heaved, and tears sprang to her eyes. Not just from the bitter taste or the stinging in her throat, but because she'd never wanted Edwin to see her like this. So many men lost interest in their wives as soon as they were with child, considering their duty done, but even if Edwin wasn't like that, this was disgusting. Unfeminine. Messy. Smelly. How would he ever be able to look at her the same?
So it shocked her when she heard him sharply calling out the door for Poppy's immediate assistance, and then felt him approach from behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms lifted, making her horribly aware of his presence.
Her robe was placed over her shoulders, and Edwin helped her straighten, pulling her away from the basin as he coughed a little in reaction. Eleanor bit her lip to keep from moaning her humiliation aloud as he wrapped her up in the robe, helping her slide her arms into the sleeves. She couldn't look up at him to see his expression, she was too scared to.
"Oh my lady," said Poppy, rushing in with an expression of concern on her face. "I'm sorry I wasn't prepared, this is so much earlier than usual."
Out of the corner of her eye, Eleanor saw Edwin's mouth open, close, and frown. She winced.
"Earlier?" he asked, his tone sharp. "This happens often?"
Poppy halted mid-stride, nearly sloshing some water on the floor. Her soft brown eyes darted between the master and the mistress as she realized that the lady of the house hadn't been quite as forthcoming about her condition as Poppy had thought. Not that the servants knew everything that went on between the Lord and Lady, but none of them had realized he was completely unaware of why his wife never joined him first thing in the morning to break her fast.
"Ah..." she said, obviously searching for words. Eleanor just let out a little groan, which distracted him completely as she swayed slightly. Pulling her into his arms, Edwin let
her press her face against his chest while he rubbed her back. She made a small sound of contentment; her nausea wasn't gone, but it had lost a lot of its immediacy.
Sensing that the master was now distracted, Poppy quickly changed out the basins, taking the soiled one from the room. Holding on to Edwin's robe, Eleanor closed her eyes, wishing that she could stay just like this forever. Because she knew that questions were coming that she didn't want to answer - wasn't sure how to answer.
She was right.
"Nell, why didn't you tell me you were having problems in the mornings?" Edwin's voice was soft, not stern, and filled with concern, but the question still made her feel stubbornly tetchy. Mostly because she was being forced into telling him about her condition, and it definitely wasn't on her terms.
"Why do you care?" she muttered, just barely loud enough for him to hear. She almost winced at how waspish she sounded.
"Nell." This time he said her name a little more sharply, a warning for her to behave and to answer. Instead, she just tried to burrow even more closely into his chest and he sighed, somewhat exasperated. His hands caressed her gently, from shoulders to waist, and she melted against him as his voice lowered to a murmur. "You're going to be the death of me, woman. If I'd known how bad the mornings were for you, I would have been here to take care of you."
Suddenly Eleanor felt as though they were standing on a precipice together, one that they'd been moving towards for a long time. One that could make or break her heart.
Tilting her head back, her expression completely serious, she looked up at her husband. "Why?"
******
The searching, almost desperate look in Eleanor's big blue eyes made Edwin hesitate. There had been quite a few times, since their wedding, that he'd felt Eleanor wanted something from him. He just didn't know what and she never seemed inclined to tell him, or even proffer a hint. This was another such moment.