Chapter Twenty-Three
Darkwood Castle
Princess Juliet, daughter of Robert Greystone, duchess of Darkwood and its surrounding lands, was not happy. She stood quite naked in the corner of her marriage bedchamber and faced the wall. She waited for her husband, the duke, so she had some time to reflect on her circumstances.
It had been six months since the double wedding that bound her to Rand LaFlors, and her sister, Scarlett, to Sir Roland Ferris. Sir Roland had been made the king’s high minister. Rand had been given the castle and lands that had belonged to Morgaine, his followers had been pardoned, and he had been made a duke.
The newly married couple had taken up residence in the former Bathen Castle, now Castle Darkwood, to begin their new lives together. It had been a heady undertaking. She would manage the household and help her husband administer the lands. He was to shore up the western border of Westvale to help in repelling any encroachment by Ieryn raiders. The new duke and son-in-law had Robert’s blessing and a portion of his army.
He also had Juliet, and for that she was grateful, for she was head over heels in love with the man who had rescued her from her abductors and devised a plan to save her father’s life and his kingdom. But his discipline was a different thing altogether. Juliet pouted as she waited. She had been used to getting her own way most of her life, and that included riding whenever and wherever she pleased. Her husband took a different view of things. “The lands around here are wilder than in the east, Juliet. You may ride, but only with my permission and only in certain areas. And stay out of Darkwood Forest.”
So what did he know? She had been in the forest before. Nothing had ever happened. Until this morning, that is, when that pack of wolves had come out of nowhere and chased her. It had been terrifying, she had to admit. Her horse had bolted and it was all she could do to hang on. Fortunately for her, Rand and several of his guards had coming looking for the errant duchess and appeared on the scene just as the pursuing wolves were closing in on the terrified horse and rider. The men chased them off while Rand caught up with his disobedient wife.
Rand had been grateful and relieved to find her, but his elation was short-lived once he brought her to safety. Juliet was discovering that it was unwise to disobey her husband in matters of her personal safety. He had ordered her to her chambers, to stand with no clothes on, facing the wall, until he came to deal with her.
It felt arousing to strip off her clothes, knowing her husband was on his way. But as she stood waiting, a chill of fearful anxiety ran up her spine and produced a fluttery feeling in her core. He had demonstrated his displeasure before, and in a very physical way. Juliet was torn. Those lessons, painful though they were, invariably led to heated, glorious sex. Her body responded to his touch in ways that didn’t seem possible. And when he took her, it was magic. First though, there would be the reckoning, the punishment for disobedience. How could he? She was a princess. But as Rand had reminded her, she was also the wife of a hardworking duke, and he did not have the time to chase her down to rescue her from her misadventures.
The room was silent. All she could hear were birds chirping outside a nearby window. Then came a faint sound. Her ears registered the sound of boots clomping. They were coming closer. She gulped. The door creaked open.
“Well, at least you obeyed me in this,” said Rand, striding into the room and flinging off gloves that landed with a splat on the floor.
She turned her head to speak. “I’m sorry, Rand. I didn’t know there were… those animals. I never saw any before. Please let me dress and we can discuss it. I’ve learned my lesson. It’s humiliating to stand here all naked.” She stomped her foot for emphasis.
“Still the bratty princess, eh?” said Rand. Her took her by the arm and led her out of the corner.
“Rand, stop. Where are you taking me?” She stumbled along beside him.
“Not far,” he said.
Rand sat on a chest at the foot of the large bed they shared and tipped Juliet across his knee. He gripped her about her tiny waist and shifted her forward until her nose nearly reached the floor. Her legs were left to dangle in midair. He relaxed his grip and placed one hand across the small of her back. The other he rested on her sumptuous derriere.
When she felt Rand’s hand on her bare bottom, she clenched. “Rand, no. No, please. I won’t go into the forest any more. I promise.”
“Ah, the promises of a naughty girl about to receive her just due are music to my ears, wife. But still, the lesson must not only be learned, it must be felt.”
What was he doing? She felt his hands pulling apart the cheeks of her bottom. She went cold inside as she felt something—an object. There was pressure at her anal opening. Something was sliding in.
“No! No! Take it out!” Juliet was frantic. This monstrous thing in her was unbearable.
“Sorry, love, but you’re going to do some penance figged. This is a ginger root. It won’t hurt you, but it will be damned uncomfortable for a time.”
He shoved it in and stood her up. With a firm pat on her bottom he directed her back to the corner. “Now kneel down and face the corner. Do not take it out. When I come back, I will remove it and finish your punishment.”
Miserably, Juliet knelt on the unyielding stone floor. The plug inside her was the most unpleasant thing she had ever felt, not to mention the embarrassment of having to submit, to turn up her backside for Rand to push the awful thing inside her. There was this horrible pressure, and a burning sensation, both inside and out. She wanted to scream. It was distressing to know that she had to stay here in this position until Rand returned. And then, what had he said? To finish the rest of her punishment?
* * *
Greystone Castle
At that precise moment, Scarlett was late for the ball. Roland wasn’t really worried, just put out with his gorgeous wife. It was her job to be present to entertain envoys from Angleterre. After all, King Richard had gone out of his way in providing supplies and training for Westvale’s forces, which had become depleted as a result of Tomas Cramden’s treachery. A feast in honor of the nobles who had assisted had been planned.
Roland knew where his wife was at this hour—tending the sick at her hospital. The hospital was a wedding gift from her father. Scarlett had little use for the pomp and circumstance of court. Her calling, she said, was to be a healer, not a pampered princess frittering away her days with gossip and gowns. Except, mused Roland, there were times when some courtly frittering was necessary. As it was at this very hour.
The feast had been underway for some time. Roland made excuses for their hostess as best he could. Richard’s envoys were anxious to meet the brave princess who had thwarted a devious plot. The food had all been served and dancing was about to begin when at last she arrived.
“Your guests have been asking about you,” said Roland.
“I don’t know where the time went. There was so much to do.” She proceeded to tell him all about her patients. “The miller’s son needed a poultice for a wound. A young girl was stung by a bee and could scarcely breathe. The blacksmith’s wife had a fever…” It all spilled out.
Roland listened attentively and patted her hand. When she ran out of anecdotes he said, “You have others who could have helped you like Sister Miriam and Sister Gertrude. You have duties here, too, and this is an important one. You should have been here on time. We’ll discuss this later.”
Scarlett hadn’t liked the sound of that. Her husband, now the high minister, had a heightened sense of duty. When Scarlett failed to do her part, there were usually consequences. Still, it was a heady experience, being a real princess and married to a handsome knight.
She did her best with Richard’s noblemen and their wives, many of whom had been anxious to meet the now famous lost daughter of Robert Greystone. Her dancing skills were rudimentary, but they were good enough to get her through the evening. Still, she was relieved when the evening ended and the revelers retired.
R
oland was just as glad to see everyone depart. He escorted his wife to their private quarters.
“I’m glad that’s over,” said Scarlett. “I could not have made any more polite small talk, told our story again, or danced another step.”
“So now you are ready to retire to our bedchamber, my princess?”
“Yes, I am,” said Scarlett. There was a hitch in her breath as she contemplated a night of passion with her husband.
“And what should I do about your earlier disobedience, failing to arrive on time as I commanded?” chided Roland as they reached the door to their quarters. He dismissed the servants and led her inside.
“As you commanded? I am given to understand that I am the princess here.” Scarlett flounced into the room, tossing her head and folding her arms across her breasts, and tried to fix him with a firm look.
Both her words and the pose took Roland aback. He pursed his lips as he looked at his wife, standing there defiantly, just daring him to say something. It was uncharacteristic. Scarlett had never been one for putting on airs or for stubbornness. Roland sighed. He clasped her shoulders with his large hands and looked his wife in the eye.
“Princess or not, I am your husband and when I say to be somewhere at a certain time, you must obey me.” Roland noted that the resolute expression was fading to uncertainty as his eyes bored into hers. “So I think you need a little lesson in wifely obedience.”
Scarlett blinked as Roland stepped behind her and began to undo the laces on her dress. The feel of his hands as he slipped the gown off her shoulders was unnerving. She almost forgot what he had just said. “A lesson, Roland?” she said. The gown slid to her ankles and he was busy stripping away the various under-layers that comprised her ensemble. She blushed. Even now she fluttered nervously when she was naked in front of her husband. Goose bumps stood out on her bare flesh. But then he took her into his arms and kissed her. It was a long deep kiss. The feel of his arms around her and the pressure of his lips on hers made her knees buckle.
“You know I love you, Scarlett. I do. With all my heart,” he said. “But you need to learn to obey me.”
Abruptly Roland sat down on the bed and tipped Scarlett over his knee. She squawked as she realized what he meant to do. Roland contemplated the lush curves of his wife’s bottom as Scarlett wriggled. He patted the resilient globes and paused to run his hand over the satiny smoothness of her skin. She shivered, parting her legs slightly and the knight saw wet dew glistening on the folds of her sex. He sighed. Time for that later.
* * *
Darkwood Castle
Rand returned an hour later. It had been the longest hour of Juliet’s life. Her insides were burning and the presence of that thing up her rectum was horribly uncomfortable. She never felt so grateful as when he had taken her by the arm and lifted her up. He led her back to the chest and sat down again. Putting her across his knee, he deftly extracted the plug he had placed there. Juliet closed her eyes and sighed with relief as the awful thing slid out.
“There,” he said when the plug had been extracted. “I was encouraged to see, my princess, that you obeyed me and did not remove the plug. The rest of your punishment will not be so unbearable, I think. Just a sound spanking with the flat of my hand.”
“What?” She had thought it was over. “No, Rand,” she wailed.
Smack! Rand’s hand fell square across Juliet’s bottom.
Smack! Smack! Hard spanks delivered to left and right cheeks.
“Ahh… ah, that stings!” wailed Juliet. It burned like an iron laid across her fundament.
Rand launched into a noisy and robust spanking, landing open-palmed meaty smacks on Juliet’s bottom in a measured tempo. He ignored her sputtering protests. The spanks stung Juliet’s bare seat like bees. She fluttered her feet and squirmed, shifting her body as much as she could to evade Rand’s punishing hand. All was in vain, though. His arm across the small of her back was like a metal bar, pinning her. All she could do was to writhe and accept her husband’s correction. Rand spanked in flurries that had her back arching and her feet flying up.
“Arrr, no, Rand. I promise, I promise,” she wailed, kicking her legs and flailing her arms.
“Promise (smack!) what, Juliet (smack! crack!)?” Rand did not slow the tempo one whit. It was a frenzied dance, Rand’s hand rising and falling, impacting the satiny globes of Juliet’s bottom while Juliet wriggled in distress.
“Yow! Ow! I won’t go riding alone!” Juliet could not believe how much on fire her sitting area felt.
“I am glad to hear it, wife.” Rand punctuated each word with a lusty smack that flattened the deliciously curved cheeks of his wife’s behind. Her bottom was glowing red now, dark roses on a field of white.
Abruptly, he sat her up, plopping her into a sitting position on his knee.
“Now, have you learned this lesson? Or should I have Frida prepare a switch so we may continue?”
A switch? Juliet shook her head vigorously. “No, Rand. I’ve learned, really learned.”
“Good,” said Rand. “Because I’d be a lost man without you. You’re not the princess anymore. You are my queen and I want a long life as your king.”
He moved his hand up to run it across her breasts. Juliet sighed as he touched her, a momentary thrill coursing up from down below. This despite the fact that her bottom throbbed and felt twice its size. His hand dropped to the furry nest between her legs. Juliet shifted slightly, welcoming his touch. At the same time his lips found hers. Soon their tongues intertwined and he clasped her in his arms, drawing her even closer.
When they disengaged, Rand scooped her into his arms and stood up. He carried her around to the side of their bed and laid her down gently. Juliet watched with anticipation as he removed his clothing. Rand’s body was long and lean, a body that moved with grace and swiftness. Yet there was surprising strength in those arms, as Juliet could attest, having just been manhandled as if she were a toy. And she could see that he was ready for her. His body could not hide his arousal. It pointed at her like a spear and she lay back, eager to receive him.
Juliet watched as Rand knelt between her parted legs and felt his hands as they gripped her hips. Juliet was lifted slightly to shift her into position to receive her husband. She reached for his erection and placed it between the lips of her vagina. There was a most heavenly feeling as Rand thrust forward. The feel of Rand’s hard cock sliding into her fully lubricated sex was sheer ecstasy. Rand stretched out, his body lying on hers. For a moment Juliet lay still, luxuriating in the feel of her husband’s erect member inside her and the weight of his lean body atop hers. Then she began to move, prompting Rand to do so as well. Their tempo increased, Rand sliding in and out of her wet sheath, causing little explosions of pleasure, a wave-like throbbing that welled up from deep inside, begging for release.
She moved more urgently now, ascending to a giddy peak. She could feel it coming. Yes, something was indeed coming. It was rushing at her like a bull, a bull that was Rand, ramming her, causing wave upon wave of euphoria that threatened to overwhelm her. Then it did and she climaxed, her body lurching into spasms. At the same time Rand, who could hold back no more, released, and together they clung to each other until the storm had passed.
* * *
“Do you miss Kingsgate?” said Rand. They lay snuggled together in the aftermath of their lovemaking. “The royal court, the courtiers, the balls, the things you were used to? After all, out here you are on a remote frontier compared to Kingsgate.”
“Yes,” said Juliet, a mock frown on her face. “You are a bad man. An outlaw. You stole me away.”
For a moment Rand looked concerned. Then Juliet giggled. “See? I had you. But it’s true.” Juliet made an attempt at a serious face. “You are a bad outlaw and you have captured me.”
Rand raised his eyebrows. “I’m a duke with lands rightfully given to me by the king, and don’t you forget it.”
Juliet threw her arm across her forehead, feigning self
-pity. “I’m an outlaw bride, captive of a fierce brigand who ravishes me daily.”
“You’re also a naughty brat of a princess who needs her bottom warmed daily.”
Juliet wrapped her arms about Rand’s neck and pulled his face close to hers. “As long as you also ravish me daily, husband, I’ll gladly be an outlaw’s wife. I’ll leave the gowns and the balls and the courtiers to my sister, Scarlett.”
* * *
Greystone Castle
Roland peppered Scarlett’s bottom with crisp smacks, placing them all over the white expanse of her shapely bottom globes. He started at the crowns of her buttocks and worked his way down to the junction with her thighs. He didn’t spank her hard, just enough to make it sting so that he could nip this defiant tone in the bud. She made little noises that were half moans, half blubbering protests. She fluttered her dainty feet, but she didn’t fight him or try to wriggle out of his grasp.
She did buck and writhe, pumping her hips up and down, almost in a parody of the act of lovemaking. Roland noted that. Was this treatment exciting her? His palm was tingling, so he imagined the smacks he was delivering must be having some stinging effect on his wife’s lovely bottom. He spanked her at an even tempo, marveling at the way her flesh quivered each time his palm struck. It did not take long to thoroughly redden her cheeks. He had spanked her bottom for several minutes, creating what he thought was some degree of distress, when he decided it was enough.
He lifted her off his lap and deposited her on the bed, face down. She looked over her shoulder at him as he stood and stripped off his clothing. The state of his arousal was quite plain. She looked at it, a spear jutting straight out at her, her eyes eager with anticipation.
The Princess and the Rogue Page 14