by Golden Angel
What if, with her confused feelings for her husband, their positions had been reversed and she'd had words about Lady Grace’s friendship with Hugh and Grace had responded the same way Irene had? What must that have been like for Lady Grace, as a new bride? And now, to be attacking Grace – despite any real provocation, just the anger that Irene hadn’t been able to control… She might not approve of the Lady's behavior with Alex, but regret and shame washed over Irene for her own.
"Alex, I was thinking of going to White's after dropping Irene off at home. She's got a bit of a megrim." Hugh's hand tightened on Irene's arm, as if warning her not to contradict him. Not that such a gesture was necessary; it was as if he'd read her mind. She truly didn't want to be here and her head actually was starting to pound a bit. "Would you like to join me?"
For a long moment, Alex just stood there, staring blankly at Hugh, and then he shook himself. "Yes. Thank you. The Duchess surely won't miss us, it's such a crush here."
Hardly satisfied with the lack of dramatic revelations or declarations, the lords and ladies around them turned away, realizing that they weren't going to get anymore meat for gossip fodder. Although what they'd witnessed would cause enough of a stir. Irene just prayed that no one had seen exactly how Lady Grace's dress had been torn.
Once again, as if sensing her thoughts, Hugh leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Lady Wife, I will deal with you tomorrow. Tonight you will think about what you've done and why you've earned yourself a punishment."
Irene just nodded, wilting a bit against him. She didn't argue, because, after all, what could she truly say in her defense?
******
Climbing the stairs to his bedroom, Hugh sighed. It had been a long night. At the club, after they’d left the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, Alex had quietly gotten very, very drunk until Hugh eventually poured him back into the carriage and took him home. Then Alex’s butler had taken over responsibility for him. Hugh highly doubted the man would remember much of the evening, after the instigating incident.
Hugh didn’t dislike Grace, although he sometimes found her to be rather sharp and self-centered, but he didn’t at all like what she did to Alex. It hadn’t even occurred to him that her behavior might grate on Irene, although Edwin had said something about the two ladies not getting along. After so many years of spending time with Grace and Eleanor, he hadn’t even thought about Grace’s normal flirtatiousness until Irene had actually lunged at her.
A little smile played on his face before it slipped away. As gratifying as his wife’s jealousy might be, considering that just a few weeks ago she’d thrown herself at Alex, he couldn’t allow her behavior to go unpunished. It seemed that his love’s impulses were bound to continue to get her into trouble.
If he hadn’t caught her up, who knew what she might have done to Grace in the middle of the most socially important ball of the Season? The resulting scandal would have been almost impossible to recover from, for both of them.
But at least he wouldn't have to punish her this evening. He was too tired. Even if the idea did makes his groin stir with interest. And it would give her time to think through her actions; and stopping to think was definitely something his wife needed to work on. While she wasn’t quite the calm, sedate bride he’d initially thought he was marrying, he did love his wife, but he was learning more and more that she was ruled by her impulses when her emotions ran high. Emotions that she had learned to pent up under the disapproval of her mother; and while he was happy that she didn’t feel the same need to hide them from him, she obviously had very little practice controlling them. That may be fine in the country, but not here in town where the wrong move could end up having repercussions that spanned far beyond one person.
Cutler helped him undress before he donned his dressing gown and went into the darkened bedroom. There was a single candle lit next to the bed, on his side, casting only the dimmest light throughout the room. Irene’s red hair glinted in the candlelight, spread out across the pillow, and despite his exhaustion, Hugh felt his groin stir with interest again. Coming closer, he could see her fist balled up under her chin and the slight puffiness to her eyes that told him she’d been crying before she’d fallen asleep.
He hated to know that she’d been weeping, but he also hoped it had taught her a lesson.
Ignoring the hardening state of his cock, Hugh let his dressing gown fall to the floor and crawled in beside his wife. As usual, she was wearing her night rail. Sighing, he tugged it up to her hips so that he could cradle the length of his cock between her bottom cheeks, pulling her tightly against his groin. It was one of his favorite ways to sleep. She only stirred slightly as he turned back to blow out the candle, before wrapping her in his arms. Despite his aching arousal, he fell asleep almost immediately.
******
Surely this was torture.
Sitting across the breakfast table from her husband, Irene couldn’t concentrate at all. She’d been picking at the plate of fruit, which was all she’d thought she could stomach, while Hugh read the newspaper and drank his coffee. Their normal everyday routine, but today wasn’t a normal day was it? No, she knew that she was getting a spanking today.
And making her wait for it was just cruel.
She’d woken late and alone, although it had been obvious from the impression on the pillow beside hers and the rumpling of the sheets that Hugh had crawled into bed with her at some point during the night. The fact that he had left without waking her wasn’t, by itself, unusual but it still caused her stomach to stir with anxiety. When she’d come down to the breakfast table, she’d found him already there and waiting for her, as he always did when she didn’t wake up next to him.
But she’d found that her appetite had deserted her, wondering whether or not he was going to spank her immediately after breakfast. If he was going to tell her when he was going to do it. She didn’t think she could wait until this evening, before bed. Dragging out the torment throughout the entire day would just be too much.
Looking over at the doorway, where a footman was posted, Irene gave him a discreet little wave of dismissal. Surprised, but obviously not going to argue, the man exited the room. Hearing the door close, Hugh looked up from his paper.
“Hugh,” she said, as he sat up straight, frowning at the door the footman had just disappeared through.
“Yes sweetheart?”
Irene took a deep breath, gathering her courage. It was better to ask and find out now than to sit in worried anxiety. The words came out in a rush. “When are you going to spank me?”
Well that got his attention. Hugh’s head whipped around to face her, his blue eyes boring into hers. When he looked like that she couldn’t help but feel even more nervous; he was normally so cheerful, always smiling with his eyes if not his mouth, but right now he looked every inch the disciplinarian. She squirmed under his focused attention, even though she tried to keep still.
Folding the newspaper, Hugh put it down next to his coffee as he considered her words.
“Do you want me to spank you?”
“No… I mean… no… but if you’re going to I want to know when you’re going to do it.” Irene wrung her hands in her lap. For a moment she’d actually thought she was going to say ‘yes,’ just because she was overwhelmed by guilt over her behavior last night. Even though she didn’t want the spanking, she somehow thought she’d feel better for being punished. Transgression, punishment, and then everything was forgiven. So much less demoralizing then the way her mother would pick at her for weeks on end when she’d done something wrong.
“Oh, I’m absolutely going to spank you, Irene. I realized, looking back, that Grace can be overly familiar with me on occasion and how that may have looked to you. But that doesn’t excuse your own behavior. No matter the provocation, attacking her was absolutely unwarranted.”
Irene hung her head, feeling absolutely abysmal. “I know Hugh. I’m sorry.”
“I’m aware that there is some tension between the
two of you, but you’re going to have to learn how to deal civilly with her. She’s one of Eleanor’s best friends as well as being a friend of the family, even if my parents are disappointed in her current behavior. And if Alex reconciles with her, you’re going to be seeing her even more often. The two of you need to at least be able to have a conversation together, and that relies as much on you as it does on her.”
As galling as it was to admit it, Irene knew that was true. She didn’t have to let Lady Grace get under her skin. Before finally falling asleep last night, she’d thought of a hundred different ways she could have handled herself. All of which would have made her look better and Lady Grace look worse.
Instead, she’d just reacted without thinking and had made herself look very bad indeed. She really hadn’t meant to tear Lady Grace’s dress. And she’d also realized that, in some ways, her past behavior had set her up for the way Lady Grace had flirted with Hugh last night. After all, Irene had done the exact same thing to Alex – even if he hadn’t noticed – and then scoffed when Lady Grace had done the right thing and quietly pulled her aside, in private where she wouldn’t be embarrassed, to request that she desist. If Irene had handled her own situation with half the same amount of decorum she wouldn’t be in the spot she was in now.
She could feel her husband’s eyes on her studying her. “Alright Irene. I think you’ll feel better if we get it over with sooner rather than later. Let’s go to my study.”
Following Hugh along the halls of their home, to his private area, Irene was surprised at the cessation of anxiety that she felt. She was still nervous, it was true, but there was something reassuring about her husband’s authoritative demeanor and care of her. This might not be the most convenient time for Hugh to punish her, but he’d seen how much the anticipation was upsetting her and he was going to take care of it. Of course, she’d rather not be punished at all… but was that true either? Did she want to walk around with this sick feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought about her behavior and the possible ramifications?
When they reached his study, Hugh stepped around behind his desk to a large cabinet he kept back there, while Irene waited nervously on the other side, wringing her hands in front of her. She eyed the chair that she’d been bent over the last time, knowing that she was going to be in the exact same position in just a moment. But for some reason, now that she was here, all she wanted to do was put off the punishment for as long as possible.
Would her emotions ever cease to contradict each other?
Hugh pulled something from the cabinet and shut it, turning so that she could see what he had in his hands. It was a long, stiffened piece of leather, almost two feet long and Irene paled as she looked at it.
“This is called a tawse, sweetheart. It’s going to sting, but it’s not going to mark you up or seriously harm you. I think what you’ve done merits more than just a regular spanking. And I want you to start thinking before you act. It seems to be an ongoing problem for you.”
“Yes Hugh,” she whispered, staring at the instrument of torture. Remembering that Flora had said a caning was the worst punishment, worse than any of the others. Awful that her maid had known such things, but now Irene was grateful to know that Hugh wasn’t using the worst of such instruments on her. Especially grateful that Flora was no longer in her mother’s house where such punishments were apparently commonplace.
Something in Hugh's face softened as he looked at her trembling form, although he still looked very severe. "It will hurt sweetheart, and you won't like it, but I promise it won't truly harm you."
Irene nodded, unable to voice anything further. It felt like her throat was closing up. And at the same time, she wasn't truly afraid that Hugh would hurt her, it was just the fear of the unknown. What would it feel like? How much would it hurt in comparison to a spanking?
"Bend over the chair and pull up your skirts," Hugh said, nodding at the chair in question. Not that she needed it; Irene remembered her last encounter with the chair quite vividly. At least this time there was no one around to witness her punishment.
Her heart was racing as she gathered her skirts, pulling them up to her waist and bending over the chair. Automatically she spread her legs for balance, feeling the split in her drawers opening slightly as she did so. Even though the current fashion was for closed drawers, all of Irene's were done in the split style. The ones that she'd originally brought with her had all been remade by Flora, for exactly this reason.
Hugh moved behind her, pulling the fabric to either side of her body, so that the soft white drawers framed the creamy cheeks of her bottom. His wife looked absolutely delicious like this, trembling slightly, her bottom well rounded, legs spread so that he could see those adorable copper curls framing the pink slash of her quim. The bunched skirts obscured most of her upper body but he could see that she'd rested her head on her folded arms and was biting her lower lip as she waited. Looking at her, his cock began stirring immediately. While he didn't completely understand why punishing his wife had such an effect on him, he was growing used to it.
"I'm going to give you twenty, Irene. The next time you act without thinking, it will be forty with the tawse."
A tremor went through her body and Hugh reached out to rub her bottom comfortingly. The rounded cheeks were satiny and firm beneath his palm, and he felt, more than heard, the sigh that went through her. Rubbing that soft skin, Hugh squeezed a bit, enjoying the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers. It pinked the skin of her bottom, but he didn't necessarily think that was a bad thing; the rubbing would warm her skin a bit so that the bite of the tawse wasn't quite a total shock to her system.
After a few minutes of rubbing and squeezing those rounded globes, Hugh stepped back. Irene tensed again, waiting as he raised the tawse. He waited until her muscles trembled and then relaxed, unable to hold their tension for such a length of time, before bringing the leather down across her rear.
WHAP!
Irene shrieked, her hands immediately coming back to cover the thick red line that had appeared across the creamy surface of her skin. It did more than sting or burn, although it did both, but the pain also went deeper into her flesh, as if the tawse had actually sunk into her body.
"Move your hands, Irene."
"Please Hugh... it's too much," she begged, looking over her shoulder at him with tears in her eyes. But he just looked back at her calmly and shook his head.
"No it's not, sweetheart. Now move your hands back or I will tie them in place for you."
Whimpering, Irene put her hands back down on the cushion of the chair, burrowing her head in her arms. The throbbing ache in her bottom was already starting to subside, but she knew that it would return. And she was expected to take nineteen more?
WHAP!
Somehow this one wasn't quite as bad, maybe because now she knew what to expect, but Irene still cried out as the throbbing pain spread deep into her. Somehow the tawse made it feel as though it was striking a much larger area than it actually was; as if there were waves of torment spreading across her skin in the aftermath of a strike.
WHAP!
This one caught her lower on her bottom, near her thighs, and Irene's body bounced up and down, as if her flaming cheeks were truly on fire and she was trying to use the air to cool them.
By the time Hugh had reached ten strokes across her chastised rear, Irene had lost count and was sobbing into the cushion, her fingers digging into the leather to keep herself from reaching back and covering her scalded skin. Heat and pain flared and barely subsided as the tawse slapped against her over and over again. Whenever she began to dance too much, her feet jigging her body up and down, Hugh's hand would come down on the top of her bottom, holding her in place until she regained control over herself.
The sorry state of his wife's bottom, by the time the twentieth stroke had been applied, should have made Hugh feel sorry for her or perhaps satisfied with a job well done. Instead, his overwhelming emotion was pure lust.
The glowing red cheeks seemed to be emanating heat, they looked swollen and hot, as if the skin had been tautly drawn across them. Reaching out, Hugh rubbed the flaming surface, much the same as he had before he'd punished her, and felt the blaze searing his hand.
Unable to contain himself, he tossed the tawse onto his desk and reached for the front of his trousers, unlacing them and pulling his cock free. Hard as a rock, throbbing with need, a few drops of fluid were already decorating the tip. Fisting it in one hand, he rubbed his fingers along Irene's slit with his other.
She moaned, her hips moving up and down again, and he felt the moisture begin to seep from her body. It didn't matter that her bottom was a scalding torment, her pussy eagerly began to cream as he played with the soft folds. The soft moans that reached his ears sounded like a cross between pleasure and pain, making his own need surge higher.
Pressing his cock to her opening, he couldn't help shuddering with anticipation at the sight of his large rod pressing into her, between her well-roasted cheeks. Her bottom was even redder than her hair. Pushing in, both of them moaned as her wet sheath parted for him, and he gripped her hips and shoved hard into her. The heat from her bottom pressed against his groin as he filled her completely, her walls clenching around him as she let out a little cry.
"Oh sweetheart..." Hugh murmured. "You took your punishment very well, now let me make you feel good."
Irene truly wished that it didn't feel good. It seemed so wrong that she could find any pleasure at all when just moments ago she'd been sobbing her heart out from the scorching agony the tawse had ignited in her bottom. But just the touch of Hugh's fingers against her most sensitive folds and she'd felt her arousal surge with a shocking intensity. Then he'd pushed into her, and the sensual thrill had begun to throb along with the pain in her bottom.