Arabella's Taming

by Golden Angel

  With her hair tousled and curls falling against her flushed cheeks, her eyes hazy with pain and pleasure, her lips slightly parted, she looked both flustered and beautiful. Her fluster increased as he cupped her breasts, hefting the heavy mounds in his hands so he could knead the soft flesh.

  "Will you stop?" she asked, although she sounded more breathy than firm. "You're distracting me."

  "Am I?" he asked mildly, feeling more than a little wicked as he gave her nipples a sharp pinch.

  Arabella moaned, leaning into his hands at the erotic pain. By now he was sure the initial burn from her spanking had diminished and it was obviously lending itself to her arousal. It never failed to amaze him how some women could turn pain into their own secret pleasure. He'd tested the waters on their wedding night with the erotic spanking he'd given her, but this went far beyond that. Definitely something to think on further in the future, when he had the proper attention to devote to it.

  Right now he was too distracted by Arabella's soft body, her small whimpers, her hands sliding across his bare skin as she worked her way down to his breeches. Undoing the placket at the front, her fingers brushed over the bulge of his cock several times, making Thomas want to moan at the small, unintentional touches.

  She hadn't even bothered to push his shirt off of his shoulders, so it hung loose and open, framing his body. Thomas didn't give her a chance to do much more with his breeches either.

  As soon as she had the placket unlaced, his cock springing forward, Thomas suddenly flipped her around and pushed her upper body forward so that she bent at the waist, returning to her position over the bed.

  "Wait! What did I do?"

  The confusion in her voice was tinged with indignation and he chuckled as he realized she thought he meant to spank her again.

  "Nothing, little minx," he said, rubbing himself up and down between the lips of her pussy. As he'd suspected, she was soaking wet, her red bottom practically glowing up at him. The view was why he'd wanted her in this position. Now he could see the slight ridges from the edges of the strap, the hot red color of her arse, and the glistening shell of her pussy. "Trust me, you'll enjoy this."

  Positioning the tip of his cock at her entrance, he thrust forward. The low, breathy moan he received in return assured him that yes, Arabella would like this very much.

  Testing his theory about her response to erotic pain, he placed his hands gently on her bottom and squeezed as he pulled his hips back to thrust in again. This time she let out a high cry, her hips lifting to meet him. The heat of her cheeks singed his palms as her wet heat engulfed his cock. Her muscles tightened around him as his fingers pressed into her soft, punished flesh, and she shuddered.

  Moving one hand up to the small of her back, he pinned her there, the same way he had when he was spanking her, and palmed her sore bottom with his other hand as he began a slow, steady rhythm of thrusting into her needy body.

  ******

  While Arabella had heard her friends speak of this position, she hadn't anticipated her response to it. She felt just as helpless as she had when Thomas had been spanking her, but now he was moving inside of her, filling her, pleasuring her. She couldn't touch him, couldn't hold him, couldn't even lift her hips to hurry him; all she could do was fist her hands in the covers and take each long, slow stroke into her body.

  "Please... please, Thomas, more," she begged, the words spilling out of her as the needy ache inside of her grew more insistent, more demanding.

  Ignoring her pleas, he continued with his slow, steady pace, the thrusts both pleasuring her and driving her wild as her need for climax began to make her feel frantic. She begged. Writhed—at least, she tried to. Clamped her muscles down around him until she was practically sobbing with need.

  The sting in her bottom flared when he finally began to pick up the pace, the burning sensation flaring as his body slapped against her already punished cheeks. It wasn't quite like being spanked all over again, but it wasn't entirely pleasurable and yet not entirely painful either.

  Arabella's body had become a battleground for the maelstrom of sensations and it felt as though they were going to consume her.

  Her fingers scrabbled against the bed sheets, trying to find purchase from the cliff she felt she was hanging over... and then she fell.

  The ecstasy was painful in its intensity, battering her already overwrought senses, and she sobbed, tears rolling down her face all over again as wave after wave of rapturous pleasure assaulted her. Thomas kept moving, kept stimulating her sensitive insides even as she clamped down around him, her body trying to hold him in place inside of her.

  She felt like she was floating, like her body was too small to contain the sensations and she'd somehow expanded outside of it.

  Thomas was moving harder, faster, and Arabella felt it but it was as though she'd hit her peak and couldn't go beyond... she could only drift on the tides of pleasure as they buffeted and caressed her. His hands gripped her hips hard, the new pressure bringing her back to herself just enough to be aware as she felt him growing even harder inside of her, making him feel even larger.

  Then he began to pulse, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself into her. Arabella shuddered, quivered, and slumped.

  She wasn't senseless exactly, but she certainly wasn't herself. Panting for breath, her sore bottom beginning to ache again, her pussy tingling pleasantly, Arabella closed her eyes and rested her tear-stained cheek on the bed as Thomas slumped over her. The warm weight of him felt very nice, but when he moved away and returned to spread a cool cream on her bottom that felt even nicer.

  Like a rag doll, she let him lift her up and arrange them both in bed before blowing out the candles for them to sleep.

  As a proprietary hand slid down to cup her punished backside, Arabella snuggled into his chest, breathing in his warm scent. Maybe she didn't like being spanked when it was happening, but when such glory was to be found afterwards... maybe it would be worth it.

  Not all the time, or often, but... on occasion.

  Chapter 15

  Of course they couldn't depart London without another argument, Thomas thought ruefully. That would have been far too easy.

  An outside observer would never guess Arabella had been spanked last night, especially not with the way she was currently speaking to him. He was halfway tempted to haul her over his knee right there in the mews... but he didn't. The impulse seemed almost foreign to him—since when had he stopped caring about making a scene?

  He was a bit worried Arabella had been a bad influence on him, and they hadn't even been married a full week.

  "I'm riding, and that's an end to it," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't need you to tell me whether or not I should, I am telling you that I am going to. My bottom feels fine."

  Thomas gritted his teeth. While he wasn't entirely thrilled about Arabella's insistence on riding Mist rather than traveling in the carriage—at least for the first leg of their journey while they were still in London—he was actually more concerned for the state of her bottom and had said so. Although he'd done so in much lower tones that didn't carry throughout the entire courtyard.

  He was also sure she was lying about the state of her bottom. For one, he'd seen it when they rose. Although most of the color had faded, he would still have been able to trace the lines where he'd laid down the strap if he'd wanted to, and she'd lowered herself gingerly every time she sat. They'd foregone their morning ride as the household prepared for the move to the country, but he'd assumed she hadn't argued because she also hadn't wanted to ride in her current condition.

  Apparently he'd been wrong.

  "Son, come over here a moment." Turning towards his father, Thomas saw that he was indeed the son currently being summoned. Sighing, he slumped his shoulders.

  "We are not done discussing this," he told Arabella sternly before turning away. His head snapped back, because for a moment he would have sworn she stuck her tongue out at him... bu
t if she had, it was already back between her lips before he could get a good look.

  The saucy look she gave him was not encouraging.

  Exasperated, Thomas moved towards his father. At the very least, a temporary disengagement would hopefully allow Arabella's temper and pride to cool a bit. Surprisingly she hadn’t been at all upset when they’d questioned his family this morning and discovered that his mother had been the one to instruct Appleby not to admit Hartford from the house—but only when Thomas wasn’t available to be present for the man’s visit as well. Arabella had just nodded thoughtfully, her eyes sliding to examine Thomas’ reaction.

  He’d just been grateful she’d been accepting of his mother’s explanation and apology for not mentioning it to them.

  Why she was choosing to pick a fight over this, he had no idea.

  They had a long ride ahead of them and sitting in the saddle the entire time would likely be more than uncomfortable, it would be painful. While it might not do her any long-term harm, he hated the idea of her hurting all day on the saddle. It was different than hurting all day from a justly deserved punishment and he couldn’t understand why she would be so insistent on adding to it.

  The look of amusement on his father’s face as he approached him didn’t help either. The viscount was dressed in his brown riding clothes, even though Thomas knew his mother had insisted that he ride in the carriage for the majority of the journey. Unlike Arabella, his father had heeded his spouse’s pleas and had agreed to only ride until they were out of London—the city confines would enforce a more sedate pace—and then he would be joining his wife in the carriage.

  Why couldn’t Arabella have taken his sensible example?

  “Son, what are you doing?” his father asked, his dark brown eyes dancing. Thomas couldn’t help but wonder exactly how long he’d been watching the argument.

  “Attempting to protect my wife from herself,” Thomas said, gritting the words out through his teeth and trying to keep his tone low and calm. The staff had already heard plenty while he and Arabella had been arguing, he didn’t need to add to it. “She shouldn’t be on a horse today.”

  While he couldn’t come out and say why, he did his best to use his tone to convey a hint.

  His father’s lips twitched. His gaze went upward, as he obviously tried to contain laughter. A moment later he cleared his throat, meeting Thomas’ eyes again.

  “I see.” Reaching out, he clapped Thomas on the shoulder. “May I give you some advice?”

  “Yes please,” Thomas said relieved. His father rarely offered advice, but when he did it was always good.

  “Let her ride.”

  “What? But she’s… she’s going to be, ah, more sore than usual if she does. Her… she’s not in a good condition to spend the day riding.”

  “Then she’ll learn, won’t she?” Thomas father patted his shoulder and ambled onward, heading over to where his horse was being readied to check on the progress.

  Thomas realized he probably should have expected that advice. His father tended to let his offspring find themselves in the suds rather than keeping them from their mistakes. It was something Thomas and his brothers had always rather liked and respected about their father, since their mother had been more inclined to intervene. As far as they saw it, she intervened far too often.

  After all, adventure was just danger that worked out.

  But in this instance, he’d been acting more like his mother than his father. He hadn’t realized exactly how difficult the hands off approach could be. It went against his grain but… he certainly wasn’t getting anywhere arguing with Arabella. Maybe his father was right.

  If Thomas just let her have her way then she’d be pleased—and he was honest enough to admit that giving in was going to grate on him—and surely by luncheon she’d be ready to admit defeat.

  Sighing, he returned to his wife. “Fine. You can ride.”

  “Well of course I can.” She stressed the last word, emphasizing his incorrect grammar.

  Rather than responding, Thomas clenched his jaw and stomped away.

  Perhaps she deserved an extra-sore bottom.

  ******

  That day Arabella made a new discovery.

  She really, truly, completely hated it when her husband was right.

  In fact, she hated it so much that she was willing to suffer through an entire day of the most torturous ride of her life just so she wouldn’t have to admit he was right. It was an entire day, too, although the journey usually didn’t take quite so long, but her pace was much slower than it would normally be.

  Of course, if Thomas hadn’t been so smug when they’d first began the ride and she’d quickly started to feel the effects of the previous night combined with being on horseback, she might have given in. But he’d practically been gloating through the streets of London, a little smirk of triumph on his stupid face as he watched her admittedly unsteady seat.

  It had been unsteady because Arabella had spent the first part of her ride attempting to find a way to sit comfortably in her saddle. The conclusion that there wasn’t one hadn’t taken her very long, but by that time she was grimly determined not to give Thomas the satisfaction of admitting he’d been correct. Which meant she was stuck.

  After an hour or two his satisfaction had turned to concern, and by the time luncheon was finished—a rather extended luncheon during which he ordered much more food than they could eat and insisted on having one last flagon of ale—his concern had turned to a kind of grim, silent plea to just stop riding. It pained him to see her in pain this way, which she found ironic since he so enjoyed inflicting other kinds of pain on her. She’d realized he was extending lunch to give her more time to rest, and to capitulate, and then he’d kept pace with her for the rest of the afternoon and didn’t try to hurry her once.

  In fact, he’d tried to go even slower at one point and Arabella had snapped at him. More time in the saddle wasn’t going to help her either. He was so concerned he didn’t even get upset when she snapped at him either.

  By the time they reached Oakley Manor, the sun was nearly set, Arabella was starving, and her bottom felt like a swollen mass of burning sores. She didn’t know if she actually had any sores, but it certainly felt like it.

  Sliding out of the saddle, she nearly cried with relief. She couldn’t even really enjoy how beautiful the small manor was in the setting sun, with its grey brick, slate grey window shutters, bushes flowering pink and white blooms, lush green bushes and crawling ivy vines creating a picturesque view. Tomorrow she’d take the time to properly appreciate it.

  Right now she just wanted to crawl in her bed, on her stomach, and not move from that position for at least ten hours.

  But when her feet touched the ground and she had to bear her own weight, her knees buckled. The agony surged through her bottom and thighs and it was too much to bear. She cried out as she began to topple over—but firm hands caught her about the waist and hauled her up.

  Thomas’ face was grim as he took in the tears sparkling in her eyes, her lips pressed together in pain, and hefted her up against his chest. Winding her arms around his neck, she leaned into his shoulder, feeling his muscles flex around her and relaxed against him. Her bottom was still throbbing, still burning, but she already felt better. Perhaps it was finally being out of the saddle, but she had the sneaking suspicion it was also just being held by her husband.

  Strange how she began the day furious at him, refused to give in to what he wanted just because he was being so high-handed, and yet still want his offered care and comfort now. They were both dusty, dirty, and he smelled of horse and sweat—she doubted she was any better—but she didn’t care at all.

  “Holt, take care of the horses, please,” Thomas ordered, his voice tight.

  The head groom with them—Holt—nodded and immediately began shouting his own orders. Knowing Mist would be well taken care of, Arabella closed her eyes and sighed as Thomas began to carry her into the house. She shoul
d probably walk now, but she didn’t ask to be put down.

  “Oh dear!” The alarmed, feminine voice had Arabella opening her eyes again.

  Before them was a slender woman, who looked to be in about her mid-forties with silvering blonde hair pulled back in a bun. Dressed in dark green cambric, she was wiping her hands off on the apron she was wearing over it.

  “Mrs. Tucker,” Thomas said. “My apologies for our late arrival. As you can see we’re in need of a bath and refreshment.”

  “The bath is ready, although it might not be hot,” Mrs. Tucker said, wringing her hands slightly. “We gave up on keeping it hot… well, it should be warm at least. I’ll send up one of the maids with a tray as well.”

  “Thank you. We’ll greet the staff tomorrow.”

  Arabella felt a bit awkward about remaining silent and not greeting the woman, who was obviously the housekeeper, but as they hadn’t been introduced and she didn’t know yet whether or not Mrs. Tucker was the type to stand on propriety, she kept silent.

  Nodding, Mrs. Tucker bustled off and Thomas swung down the hallway in the opposite direction. Sighing, Arabella nestled back into Thomas’ shoulder, trusting that he knew where to go.

  Truthfully, a hot bath didn’t sound particularly pleasant anyway, considering how hot her bottom currently was. Now that she was out of the saddle and nothing was pressing on it there was both relief and a renewed throbbing. Almost as though her body was trying to warn her against the idea of returning to the hard saddle.

  Not to worry. Arabella had no interest in riding again for days. While she was sure she would change her mind once her bottom had healed, the very thought of riding again right now made her want to burst into tears.

  On the other hand, there was a very small part of her which felt it had been worth it. Considering how miserable she’d managed to make both her and Thomas, she doubted he’d try to be so high-handed and bossy again when she dug her heels in. And she had accomplished her initial goal of making both of them miserable, even if that wasn’t what she wanted anymore.