by Lila Dubois
He spanked her until her skin blushed rose, until his palm hurt and her hips no longer rose to meet his blows.
The pleasure/pain had her, prevented her from knowing when her abused flesh could take no more, but the way her knees sank to soften the blow, and the twitching of her thighs, told him what she could not.
Stepping up behind her, Anleeh pressed his palms, one hot from contact with her skin, the other cool, against her ass cheeks, just touching. She moaned as if he’d thrust into her.
“Now that you are calm,” Siara turned her head to look down the length of her back at him, incredulity writ large upon her face “we can work.”
Anleeh removed his hands and stepped away.
Siara slowly stepped forward and straightened, wincing as she did so. Anleeh placed his hands behind his back, grasping wrist with opposite hand, to prevent himself from reaching out for her, comforting her.
Gingerly she reached back, running fingertips over the swell of her ass.
“Hot, isn’t it?”
She nodded, several locks of hair sliding down, and for a moment her face was painfully young and vulnerable. Anleeh felt his beast rise, but not to devour, to protect.
“Siara…”
She tipped her head back. The long lean line of her throat, hair now spilling down her back and vulnerably parted lips all spoke of female softness. Regret for the way he had treated her, for the roughness of the spanking, consumed him.
He would have moved then, would have taken her in his arms, but she turned, and there was no vulnerability in her eyes, there was power, pleasure, and the dawning awareness of the complexities of desire.
“Come here.”
She came to him, but rather than standing before him she pressed herself flush against him and he chuckled in relief, bending his face to hers, kissing her firmly.
“Now, it is time to think about…”
Her pelvis bumped against his.
“—clothing.”
Her lip curled, her hands sliding over him in an attempt to redirect his attention, and he had to work to keep his face stern. What a remarkable woman she was.
“I told you that you would not be able to bring garments from the Great City. I disposed of yours, and also told you that you would only be allowed to wear garments that I gave you.”
Her eyes moved to the mound of furs and leather in front of the fire.
“Yes, you have been wearing the furs I gave you, but there is another thing you must know.” Anleeh stepped back and scooped up the rabbit furs they’d cured last night. “Once you reach Den the only clothing you will have are garments made from the furs of animals I have caught.” He held up the rabbit furs.
Siara’s mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. She growled and glared at him.
“Oh sorry, lover, you may speak,” he smiled widely at her.
“I’m sure you are very sorry. Actually I’m sure you are a great liar.”
“Watch it or you’ll get another spanking.”
“Ha! You will not distract me from my concerns. How am I to make garments from those? I have never made my own clothes, and there is not enough material in four small furs, even if I knew how.”
“I have made garments before.”
“The ultimately fashionable Lord Justice knows how to make his own clothes?”
“You mock, but I could make you go naked. I cannot make the fine garments of the Great City, but I know how to style a woman’s garment from furs.”
“There are not enough furs.”
“There are.” Anleeh made her turn and raise her arms. Reaching around in front of her, he placed the animal skin over her breasts, the soft fur against her flesh, the cured skin facing out, the fur peeping over the edges like a border. Instructing her to hold it in place Anleeh smoothed the rest of the skin around to her back. The rabbit’s legs barely touched; a large expanse of her back was left bare.
“This will be fine, much of your back will be left bare, but once we reach Den and I go on my first hunt, I will come back with something much finer than this for you.”
Anleeh left Siara holding the fur skin pressed against her breasts and picked up two others. There was one larger and one smaller. Moving to her front, Anleeh knelt and held the fur up, across her hips. If he positioned them crossways over her hips, front and back, too much fur would be wasted. He held the fur vertically and eyeballed the measurements.
Anleeh rolled onto his feet and held out his hands for the fur Siara still clenched. She shook her head.
“Give me the fur.”
“You may have the fur, but I hope that my supposition is wrong.”
“Are you aware that you use large words when you are nervous or angry?”
“Anleeh, please answer me.”
“First you must tell me what your ‘supposition’ is.”
“That I will wear nothing but those skins, and wear them in the manner you just indicated.”
“That is exactly what you will wear.”
“But I will be nearly—nearly…”
“Naked. Yes, you will.”
“I cannot walk about like that! My legs, stomach, shoulders, and arms will all be exposed! I will freeze.”
“I told you before that I will not let you freeze and I will not. But you will walk around wearing whatever it is I give you, or nothing at all.”
“The women of Den dress like that?!”
“When they are older many wear leggings and tunics similar to what you have now, but those who are young, young and beautiful, wear outfits similar to what you will wear, though the furs are finer and you will find them better tailored than what I will be able to provide.”
“So every woman in Den wears clothing made only from skins of animals their male protector has killed?”
“Yes.”
“But surely the men are able to kill enough animals to provide real garments!”
“These are real garments, though some women are more thoroughly covered.”
“I want to be one of them.”
Anleeh cupped the back of head and kissed her brow. “No.” Siara started to tremble and he pulled her against his chest, “I know this is hard.”
“I do not want them to see me. I am…”
“What?”
“Fat.”
“Lover, who taught you such things, who made you so unsure? Your body is beautiful and I will be greatly envied for my possession of you.”
“No one taught me that.”
“Truth now, do not hide this from me.”
“There … there was a boy. I wanted very much to be with him, to have him touch me as you do now, but rarely did he speak with me, and more rarely still did his eyes really see me. He never made a comment, but I knew I lacked the physical beauty to attract him.”
“That boy is a fool. You are a woman of great strength and beauty.”
“Thank you.”
Anleeh smoothed his hand over her hair, gentling her. He smiled wryly against the top of her head and vowed that, when they returned, he would see that she had an entirely new wardrobe made. He had not lied when he said her lush body was beautiful, but those sack dresses had done nothing to enhance her fertile beauty. Little by little he let his hands travel further south until his caress ended at her well-spanked buttocks.
“Do you hurt?”
“I am a bit sore.”
“Can you sit?” he asked, still massaging her ass.
“I think so.”
“Good. If you start to hurt, tell me, but for now, come sit with me and we’ll make you some clothing.”
Anleeh gathered up her old clothing and their cloaks from before the fire, clearing room for him to lay down their bedroll. Siara eyes widened at the sight of it and he smiled serenely, simply gesturing for her to sit and frowning when she winced as her bottom made contact.
He pulled a small awl from among his belongings and grabbed two logs. Carrying his supplies to the bedroll, he sat across from Siara, who had curle
d up with her legs to the side. The firelight danced over her features as she stared into the flames.
Anleeh extended his legs and began stripping off the furs he still wore.
“What do you see in the fire?” he asked.
“A reflection of our beasts.”
Anleeh’s breath stopped. “You have seen our beasts?”
“In my mind’s eye, I could see them.”
“What kind of animals are they?”
“I do not see that clearly.” Siara shook herself and turned to him. “A flight of fancy, nothing more.”
Anleeh nodded, but his heart still pounded. It was odd enough that she had a beast he could feel when she was not of Den. Was it possible that she…
“What is that?” She pointed at the awl.
“This is an awl, used to make holes in animal hide.” Anleeh set one of the logs on the floor, placed the edge of the first skin on it, positioned the awl, and then struck the awl with the other log, making the first of many holes.
With Siara’s help—in the form of hundreds of questions—Anleeh constructed her garments. The top was simple; it would be laced together in back with no other work needed. The bottom was more complicated.
First he cut each of the skins in half, then positioned the four sections in a row on the floor. The sense of fashion he’d developed in the Great City demanded that he position and reposition until he was sure he’d found the combination that would look the best on. Carefully punching holes down each of the sides he then used thin lacing to sew them up, creating one long piece of fabric. The cut ends at the top were all even, the naturally jagged edges hanging.
Siara stared at what he had created, head cocked to the side, her interest academic now that she was not confronted with the reality of wearing nothing but what she saw.
“Are all men in Den able to create things such as you have?”
“Yes. When a woman is married, she is stripped and her husband dresses her in garments he has made, though often older men and sometimes a man’s mother and aunts will help him create the garments. The wedding garments are often very fine, embellished with bone beads and other finery, so women only wear them until they have enough to make more serviceable attire.”
“Surely they are not stripped … at the wedding.”
“Yes, in the wedding in the Great Hall, with all the Clan watching.”
Siara’s mouth hung open for a moment. “But what if…”
“For Den it is normal. From the time they are small, boys and girls both have been guests at weddings. There is no shame or titillation in a bride’s naked body. Only her acceptance of her new life.”
“The women of Den must truly be fearless. I wish I were such.”
“You are.”
“Nay.”
“Many times have I called you fearless in my mind.”
Siara looked away, blushing in pleasure. “Thank you.”
Anleeh rose and put away the awl, draping the garments over one of their packs.
Keeping his back to her, Anleeh stretched, lifting his hands over her head.
“Will you disrobe now?” she asked. Her voice attempted calm but was riddled with strain.
He turned.
“I have never really seen you naked, I have only seen pieces,” she mumbled.
“Then come over here and take what you want.” Anleeh stepped closer to the fire, his stance wide and arms relaxed at his sides.
“Is that allowed?” Siara rose and moved in, her fingers, lacking any fabric to play with, nervously twisting together. “In the world of submission, am I allowed to do so?”
“I would hope that I have taught you that a woman’s pleasure often eclipses obedience.”
“I will admit that your rules seem rather changing and fluid.”
“They are finite, but hard to explain. Let me simply say that you are doing beautifully.”
“Not so well that I didn’t need correction.”
Anleeh bent to her ear and whispered, “Even if you never disobey again, I will punish you, just because it pleases me.”
“That’s not—that’s not…”
“Fair?”
“Yes.”
“I know. Were you planning to undress me?”
Jolted from her nervous state by his words, Siara grabbed the hem of his shirt and started tugging it up. The fabric was thick and heavy, stiff from long wear. When she got the bunched fabric to his chest, she was thwarted by his arms.
Siara looked at him and waited, Anleeh looked back.
“Well, move your arms.”
Slowly, tauntingly, he raised them. With a small ‘humph’, Siara gave his left nipple a good pinch, and when he yelped, shoved the shirt over his head, jerking him forward so she could pull it down his arms.
Smirking she stood back as he straightened, clearly astonished at how neatly she had managed that. With a wicked smile he lunged for her but Siara anticipated his movements and dropped to her knees, grabbing the lacings of his pants.
“Is it true that men are very vulnerable here?” she asked, hand curled against his crotch.
“Yes, don’t get any ideas.”
Siara gently poked her fingers against the diamond shaped insets created by the crisscrossing lacings.
Anleeh groaned. “Are you sure you are a virgin? You seem to know what will drive me wild.”
“If you would hurry up and bed me, you would know that for truth or lie.”
“Then I will know by sunrise.”
Siara undid the tie and pulled out his lacings; opening the placard of his pants she tugged them down and off his legs. Tossing his garment away, Siara stood and stepped back, wanting to take him in.
From the subtle swells of muscle at his shoulders to the smooth hard plain of his stomach, Anleeh’s body spoke of the strength. She’d never found the male body beautiful, simply functional, but he was beautiful, and she wanted him.
Siara raised her eyes to his. “Anleeh.”
All she said was his name, but in that word there was so much more, so many needs and wants.
Anleeh took two steps forward and caught her face between his palms. His mouth gentled her as his hard cock slid against her stomach. Then he dipped and brought her up against his chest, one arm beneath her knees.
He lay her before the fire, and it was unbearably gentle. Shaking fingers smoothed her hair from her face and she caught his hand in hers, closing her eyes and bringing the pads of his fingers to her lips. What flesh was not warmed by the fire was heated by his hands. There was no part of her he did not touch, from the vulnerable underside of each breast to the soft skin at the bend of her elbow.
His lips and fingers played with her belly button and the indentations of her ribs, but when he kissed down to the thatch of curls protecting her sex, she twisted her hips away.
“Let me in, lover.”
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“I’ve touched you here before.”
“This feels different.”
“I know.” He cupped her hips and eased them flat. “It is.”
Soft kisses and gentle stroking eased her thighs apart. It was with great care that he parted the lips of her sex, rubbing his thumbs over the inside, spreading the dewy wetness that had pooled within her body. Siara’s fingers curled into the fur beneath her as, with only a few strokes of the callus-hard pad of his thumb, Anleeh brought her to the first low glittering peak.
Trembling from the pleasure, Siara watched as he shifted to kneel between her legs. He sat back for a moment and squeezed the base of his cock. In the firelight, his body was glossy with the wetness he had produced.
“What is wrong?” she whispered it, scared to break the gentle spell of pleasure.
“I desire you too greatly. I don’t want to hurt you,” his lips curled with the familiar teasing half smile, “or disappoint you.”
Anleeh came down over her, and Siara’s heart skittered. He was so big, all heavy muscles and bone bearing down on her, b
ut then he smiled and she trusted him, far more than she should.
Propping himself on one elbow, his hips snuggled against her thigh, Anleeh carefully slipped a finger into her. Siara tipped her head back and moaned at the strange new pleasure. It burned slightly when he added a second finger and her gentle whimpering had him pressing butterfly kisses over the upturned mounds of her breasts and then sucking a pink nipple into his mouth.
As sweet-sharp pleasure zinged from her tightly budded nipple to her sex, Siara’s hips began to move against Anleeh’s hand, rocking. She gasped when his fingers skimmed along the inside of her channel and moaned when he slowly separated his fingers, pushing against her tight insides.
“I’m going to come into you now, lover. It will feel full and tight at first. Be still and let your body learn mine.”
Nodding she focused on the instructions, grateful to have some directions she could concentrate on following. Anleeh shifted so he was propped up on his elbows, his forearms nudging her arms up so that her fingers tangled in the spill of her own hair above her head.
“Bring your feet in and bend your knees a bit, lover. Good. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
Siara sucked in her breath as she felt him nudge her; even against her own heated flesh, he was hot. When the broad tip of his cock brushed against her clit, Siara moved her hips, seeking more of the sensation.
“Lie still for a moment, lover.”
Body crying out for more of his sweet touch, she obeyed. When she felt his broad tip opening her, forcing tight flesh to yield, she understood his command.
He held still for several long breaths and then eased in further. Bit by bit, he pushed.
“Are you alright, Siara?”
“Yes, it feels odd, so full, almost pain.”
“There will be pain yet, lover. I must breach your maidenhead.” Their voices were low, hers carried on a breath as the fullness below made her feel as though she could not draw in enough air. With each word he spoke, he touched her face, and he finished by pressing a hot kiss against her cheek.
“Put your hands on my shoulders.”