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“Yes, sir. You decide.”
The movement in his breeches was not subtle. Something leapt to attention, and the bulge was right where his manhood lay waiting for her to open up and greet him.
“Very well,” he said sternly. He tipped up her chin and she caught the brilliant blue of his eyes. Now they sparkled. “I shall determine the number of spanks, not you, and you shall be restrained if necessary. No more rolling off and away. This will teach you fortitude, Matilda, and an inner strength, something you’ll require if you are to withstand the stamina of my fucking you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes, my lord.”
Chapter Nine
Her wavering courage and fraught submission had troubled him, and upon seeing her pale skin, he had questioned whether he’d misjudged her abilities, but now it seemed she had undergone a fortuitous change of heart. He had to be certain, though. He had given his cock a treat seeing her naked and stretched across the bench, her smooth globes teasing him with their purity of shape and colour. He’d not expected her to yield to him in such a lusty manner. Her breasts, pert and firm, radiated a glow of pink, a clear indication of her readiness. He ventured if he spanked her well with a show of strength and unswerving determination, she would submit to his ardour right here, in the room he set aside for serious fucking. Bedrooms were ideal for passionate lovemaking, but there was nothing to compete with rigid furniture and stark surroundings to centre the mind on the needs of a body. His body, and hers.
Kisses would come later, and caresses. He knew they were of paramount importance to a woman’s soul. But to ensure she was not fearful of their neglect, he lowered his mouth upon hers and gifted her the kind of gentle kiss he reserved for tender moments. She melted beneath him, and he had to snatch hold of her arms to prevent her from crumbling. Her little tongue flitted about, uncertain whether to intrude into his mouth or not. She was not innocent; she’d kissed before. Probably not the priest, who had been hell-bent on squandering her pussy. No, this needy kiss was likely due to Geoffrey or one of his competitors. Releasing his lips from her plump ones, he eased back.
“Now, Matilda, do you understand, I shall not hold back from exacting a suitable amount of discomfort from you, and if you will not hold still, this time I shall hold you down and remind you of your commission.”
She swallowed with an audible gulp. “My commission, yes, I understand. Do as you see fit, sir. I guess I must expect elegance will be forfeited and roughness necessary if I do once again sally forth and attempt to break free.”
He grinned at her ch
arming nuance of warlike behaviour. “I shall regain your honour by metering out a salvo of spanks, although, as I said earlier, I’m not going to batter you,” he added as she blanched a little.
He returned to the bench, seated himself in the middle of it and stared at her. Instructions were not necessary, she knew what to do. The dozen spanks were visible on her arse as pink handprints. This time, he’d start with firm pats and build up from there. He’d been too hasty and she lacked experience of her predecessors.
He rested one hand between her shoulders and lifted the other, then allowed it to drop like a stone upon one of those neat cheeks. She flinched but said nothing. The pink deepened a fraction. He repeated the action back and forth, added more weight and height in waves of spanks, letting her adjust to each new level of pain. Slowly, she lost her decorum. She cried out, squirmed, and hammered the bench with the flat of her hand. He in turn scorched her backside with his palm.
“Do not twist so,” he warned her. “This is still insufficient discipline by my standards. A priest, remember.”
“Yes,” she screeched. “A fucking priest.”
He nearly laughed at her uncouth, but accurate, acknowledgement. He punished her quivering and dimpled behind with a few rapid smacks. The colouration was not close to crimson, yet the heat of her skin was magnificently endowed with a fiery presence. And a further blessing; she moved voluntarily, her legs apart and gave him a perfect view of her swollen folds. They shone with that glorious nectar, signalling her desires were beyond her control.
“From now on, young lady, debauchery will come at my behest. You are my betrothed, my future wife and you will not mention Geoffrey.”
“Oh, my lord. I shall not say a word about him.” She reached behind and tried to soothe her arse with a brisk rub. He knocked her arm away, and seeing she was struggling to keep still, looped his arm around her waist and pinned her tight to his lap. Her legs slipped off the bench, and he grabbed the opportunity to trap her thighs beneath one of his legs. Now her arse was raised, the skin stretched taut and her arsehole visible.
He continued to spank, undeterred by her squealing and protestations.
“This is too much, is it not,” she pleaded. “Have I not been punished enough?”
He examined the marks left on her behind. A few spots were purple, especially at the apex of each cheek. It wasn’t necessary to slap hard now, only to maintain an unrelenting momentum. This stage was for him the most satisfying. If done well, a spanked wench would surrender her body to him, and heed his every word. Matilda was fighting that endpoint with all of her resilience.
“I shall keep going if you do not stay still,” he said, applying a deep growl to his tone.
She responded with a bitter retort. “I cannot. What do you expect from me? I am punished, downtrodden, humiliated.”
He delved his thumb between her arse cheeks and pressed it against her puckered hole. “Did the priest take this?”
“I... He... no,” she said limply.
He aimed a few smacks below the crease of her thigh. “We shall move on to spank these tender spots now. I do not think you are fully contrite. I ask again, did you allow him access to your back nether? You were bent, your bare bottom exposed, and he did not think it worth a poke?”
She tensed, and he had his answer. Now he needed to hear the truth. She was no angel, and try as she may to forget the incidents at the convent, she had been complicit. There was more to the tale than she was admitting.
“Tell me, Matilda, or else I shall administer a spanking that you’ll never forget to the ends of your days.” He paused, inhaled deeply, emphasising his commitment.
“Please, don’t. Let me be. I am punished, and sorry, so sorry. I will tell you the whole truth and then you will know why I am both brazen with my lust and mortified by it. I do freely admit, I enjoyed the ruin of my body, and know that it was just the beginning of what I might submit to... if in the hands of the right man.”
He released his grip on her waist and freed her trapped legs. She relaxed into a slump. With her mind freed, ready to confess, he toyed with her hot arse, soothing it with gentle strokes interspersed with a few pats. He continued to savour her surrender and when she was ready, she spoke, hesitantly at first, then in a flat tone, one without passion or deceit. Gervais was jealous of the priest, that this man had taken his beautiful Matilda and started the act of shaping her into a sexual woman. This should have been entirely his task, but he also had to accept the groundwork was excellent. His cock ached to continue it.
