Birching His Bride (Domestic Discipline 1) (10 page)

BOOK: Birching His Bride (Domestic Discipline 1)
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Raising his hand again he brought it down
hard, his eyes lingering over the darker pink of his prints every time he landed
a fresh smack on her flesh.

"OW!" Eleanor thrust her hands
back, covering her bottom protectively. "I thought you were done!"

"Not yet, now move your hands
Eleanor."

"But I'm
sorry
! I won't wear a
dress like that again, I promise!" Despite her words, Edwin noted that his
wife sounded much more outraged than remorseful.  She was mad because she thought
he’d stopped and she was willing to say whatever she needed to make that a
reality.

"I'm not saying you can't wear it, just
not where anyone other than I will see you," he said as he took her hands
by her wrists and put them back on either side of her head.  As he leaned
forward to do so she turned her head just enough to glare at him, making it
obvious that she currently had no intention of allowing him to enjoy the sight
of her in such a revealing garment.  Edwin manfully swallowed the laugh
that threatened and raised one sardonic eyebrow at her.  Flushing, Eleanor
turned her face back to the bed and put her hands around it to keep him from
being able to see her at all. "Ten more."

His wife made a little sound, which he
decided to ignore although he was fairly certain that she'd just cursed at
him.  At least she hadn't done it loudly enough for him to hear, in which
case he would have felt obliged to add to the number of slaps her buttocks
would receive.

Eleanor struggled not to cry out as Edwin
peppered the last flurry of spankings onto her already hot and pain-filled
bottom.  To her frustration, despite the fact that it
hurt
and was
incredibly undignified, not to mention infuriating, one part of her body seemed
to enjoy it.  Even though she wasn't over his lap she knew that she was
moist between her legs, her sheath priming itself for him the same way it did
when he caressed and kissed her.  The strange response was the worst part
of the punishment as far as she was concerned, especially because she was quite
sure that her husband's all-too-observant eyes couldn't fail to miss the
evidence of her arousal.

Once he was done she let her weight drop onto
the bed, ignoring the tears that were already sparking into her eyes. Reaching
back she rubbed at the hot, tight skin across her punished globes, trying to
soothe the ache.  Almost immediately Edwin had her wrists in his hand again.

"Absolutely not, Eleanor," he said
in a cold voice. "I know you know better than to rub." It was easy
for him to wrap the long fingers of one hand around both of her wrists, holding
her arms so that they bent at the elbow and her hands were pressed against the
small of her back. "Do you need me to hold your hands during the
birching?"

"No," she said decisively, shaking
her head as if to shake the tears from her eyes.  Somehow having Edwin
hold her in place so easily only made the situation more humiliating and she
knew from the birchings she'd received at her father's hand that she could hold
herself in place with nothing more than sheer determination.

For a moment Edwin held onto his wife's tiny
wrists, marveling at how slim and bird-like her arms were.  Part of him
wanted to continue holding her in place, enjoying the domination over her, but
if she wanted to try and control herself then he was inclined to let her.
Besides, he would have a better view of her luscious bottom if he could step
away a bit. The idea of tying her in place was extremely appealing, but he
didn’t want her to associate bondage with pain, not unless she required it.
Reluctantly releasing her, he picked up the swishy birch.  The branches
were quite whippy and he knew they would sting but not cause any undue damage.

"Spread your legs," he ordered.
"And point your toes in."

Remembering the first time he'd seen Eleanor
birched, in a position very similar to this, he couldn't stop the throb of heat
that went straight to his cock.  Perhaps he shouldn't be enjoying her punishment
quite as much as he was but Eleanor was an extremely attractive and sensual
woman, and even a punishment became an erotic experience with her.  The
creaminess of her skin around her rosy bottom, the flash of wet pink flesh at
the center of her cuntpurse, the swollen lips pouting enticingly from their
frame of damp, honey-gold curls; all of it seemed designed to raise a man's
ardor, no matter the circumstances.  As he raised his arm he wondered if
she would be as wet and aroused after her birching as she was after her
spankings. 

The birch fell across her pink bottom,
leaving streaks of darker red as Eleanor let out a gasping cry. Her body bowed
backwards a little, her fingers digging into the bed sheets.  A second blow
fell across her quivering bottom, slightly higher than the first, leaving new
dark welts across her flesh, stinging like a thousand angry bees attacking the
already sensitized skin of her bottom.  With every strike her body jerked,
although the birch fell five times before she truly cried out, her muscles
flexing as she did her best to hold herself in position.
"I'm sorry!" she said, her voice muffled by the bed sheets, desperate
for the punishment to end, hoping that a spontaneous apology might end the
lashing across her burning skin. Still, even now, contrite as she was, her
pride couldn't quite allow herself to speak clearly or to face her
husband.  Another stroke fell across her already flaming bottom and she
choked back an outraged protest.  Eleanor was becoming quite heartily
sorry that she'd provoked her husband in such a manner; why couldn't she have
been more patient? Why did she have to make a production of things? She'd
regretted the menu almost as soon as her fantasy had been made into reality,
why hadn't she realized beforehand that such a plan would not only result in a
disciplining from her husband, but also the uncomfortable guilt?

A blow landed diagonally across the pouting
folds of her sex, making Eleanor howl and causing the pouting lips to plump, an
angry pink beneath the thatch of golden hairs.  Edwin had remembered the
way her father had deliberately laid one line across that sensitive area, the
way she had reacted to that punishment. The tension in her body seemed to
collapse and Eleanor no longer braced herself against the bed but lay across
it, submitting to the birch as Edwin delivered the last three blows across her
welted and burning red bottom. 

By the time he was finished he was breathing
heavily, staring at his wife's lusciously tormented flesh as he dropped the
birch to the ground beneath him.  Kneeling behind her, blood seemed to
pound in his ears as he gripped her bottom cheeks in both hands, squeezing the
tender flesh and making her writhe.  The heat seemed to sear his palms,
the musky humidity of her quim calling to him. Everything about her was hot and
squirming, inflaming his loins in a way that savaged his self-control. 

"Edwin..." she said in a shaky
voice as her husband squeezed her bottom, bringing with it a fresh surge of
pain and yet something else too, something that tingled along her nerves all
the way up her spine and left her feeling breathless.

But surely... surely he couldn't want to do
that
 right
now.
His hands pushed at her skin, separating her buttocks and she could feel his
hot breath on her open sex.  Eleanor cried out a protest, trying to push
herself up as Edwin leaned forward and planted his mouth onto her swollen
folds, his tongue sliding up the center and wreaking havoc with her sense. 
Bent over, completely exposed, her bottom throbbed painfully as Edwin began an
erotic assault below it, his weight on his hands pressing her hips into the bed
and making it impossible for her to escape this new humiliation as her body
betrayed her.
"Edwin,
no
... we can't... you just
punished me...
"
Eleanor clawed at the bed sheets, her legs trembling with weakness as his
tongue pressed into her.  If she had been supporting her own weight she
would have fallen as pure pleasure lashed through her with stunning swiftness,
mingling with the ache in her buttocks and confusing her utterly.  Despite
the tears of pain that were still clinging to her eyelashes, the flames of
desire in her core were already igniting, craving the tender tracings of his
tongue, the rough abrasion of his hands against her skin.

"And now you're forgiven," he
purred from behind her, slipping two fingers into her sopping heat and groaning
with lust as she contracted around him.  Fascinated by the welts on her
bottom he began tracing them with his tongue, feeling the struggle in her flesh
as she attempted to throw off the erotic need that had awakened inside of her,
trying to grasp her outrage and dignity.   Edwin did his best to
thwart her efforts, pumping his fingers back and forth in her hot tunnel as he
licked and kissed the bruised flesh of her bottom, massaging it with his free
hand.

"Nnooooooo," Eleanor said, moaning,
but it was as much a protest against herself as it was against him.  Her
husband had long since learned how to snare her senses; she was melting beneath
his caresses, his hand gentling as he rubbed her abused rear in an almost
comforting manner.  The clever fingers inside of her curved and twisted,
making Eleanor writhe like a cat in heat before him, unable to control her
responses as her hips began to move of their own accord, meeting the thrust of
his fingers.

"Very good wife."  Edwin's
voice was like the chocolate drink she had with breakfast, sinking into her
with a melting heat and filling her belly with warmth.  Every time his
hand rubbed over a particularly tender spot on her bottom she shuddered and her
body tightened around his fingers. "You like that it hurts, don't you? You
just don't want to admit it."

She shook her head, not sure which statement
she was responding to, but unwilling to trust her voice to answer.
 Everything had become confused. 

There was a slight rustle of clothing behind
her and then Edwin's fingers retreated, leaving her moaning for relief.
 It only took a moment before his hard rod was splitting her open from
behind, bringing back the memory of the first time he'd taken her from behind
after a spanking.  Now, as then, her body responded with eagerness,
despite the jolts of pain every time his furred groin pressed against the tender
skin of her bottom.  His body hair rasped and abraded the welts, and yet
she couldn't stop herself from pushing back against him, spearing herself on
his shaft. It pierced her body open, sensuous friction as it tunneled into her
wet heat, the heavy grip on her hips helping him to control the long slow
strokes that he was taking in and out of her body. 

Eleanor groaned and shuddered, wriggling as
Edwin took his time with her, admiring the sight of her disciplined bottom
jiggling as she tried to back herself onto him.  The pink crinkled rosebud
of her anus winked at him between her beaten cheeks, a sinful and delightful
sight.  Despite her obvious reluctance to show her arousal, honey was
dripping from the hole he was thrusting into, coating his cock with a sheen of
moisture.  The punishment had not been pleasant, but the pain had easily
been turned to erotic heat, giving way to rising pleasure. 

From her movements beneath him, which were
slowly becoming more frantic, he knew that she was beginning to feel the crest
of her climax.  Her hands pressed into the bed, trying to push her body
back against him to increase the pace of his thrusts, her hips wriggling in his
hands. It took all of his self-control not to give in to the temptation to
pound hard into her; instead he kept his slow, steady pace as Eleanor's erotic
moans increased in intensity, rising in volume as her sheath tightened around
him.

"Edwin... Edwin
please
..."
The need for release was becoming almost painful, her husband's control over her
body, over the pace of their lovemaking was keeping her right on the edge of
culmination without allowing her to go over.

"Tell me Eleanor," he leaned
forward, driving deeper into her as she gasped, his voice hoarse with lust.
"Tell me you like it."  His hands shifted on her hips to cover
her bottom, fingers digging into the soft, reddened flesh, awakening nerve
endings with fiery tendrils of pain that blossomed and combined with her
pleasure.  Back arching she cried out, pushing back against him, wanting
more of the exquisite mix of sensations he was creating within her, not caring
where it came from. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"I like it," she sobbed out,
pushing back against him. "Oh God Edwin... don't stop..."

He growled and lunged, slamming into her
mercilessly, just the way she craved it.  The abrading roughness of his
thrusts against her bottom, the fast hard thrusts into her shuddering quim,
sent her careening forward into a free fall of ecstasy.  Eleanor writhed
before him, beneath him, her sobs of pleasure falling onto his eager ears as
she tightened and convulsed around his rampaging cock, moaning his name over
and over again. 

With a grunt of exertion, he pulled himself
free of her body and grasped her around the waist, tossing her up fully onto
the bed before she knew what was happening. His wife looked up at him with
pleasure glazed eyes, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of
pleasure, as he crawled on top of her, sliding his cream-covered cock back into
her snugly, squeezing passage.

"Edwin... oh no... It’s too
much..." Eleanor's eyes rolled back into her head as he thrust strongly
into her, her body overwhelmed by the feel of her husband's weight on top of
her, her sensitive bottom rubbing against the nubby material of the bed sheets
in a way that sent sparkles of pain sizzling through her. And yet the
overriding sensation was one of extreme pleasure, pleasure so intense that she
struggled uselessly against it as her husband began to ride her again, filling
her over and over as he rutted between her splayed thighs.

BOOK: Birching His Bride (Domestic Discipline 1)
8.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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