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She shook her head as forcefully as she dared while pinned by his intense regard. “It’s not yours. It’s mine.”
When his fingers grasped her derrière, she shot up and tried to evade him again. He caught her over his arm with a soft chuckle. “If you knew how much I wanted you, you wouldn’t bother trying to get away.”
She turned, struggling to escape him. His teeth flashed white in a grim smile as he caught her arms and forced her face-down over his lap. The ripped edges of her shift parted, so she felt the silk of his dressing robe, and his warm, hard thighs beneath her. He caught her wrists and placed his other hand firmly on her back, so no matter how she kicked and flailed, she couldn’t right herself.
“Really, Aurelia,” he said with a tsk. “Is this proper wifely behavior? I’ve done nothing to hurt you.”
“You ripped my clothing,” she said. She wished he would let her up. She felt terribly vulnerable in this position. “You’re frightening me. You’re molesting me, and putting your lips on my—my breasts.”
“Molesting you? I was caressing you, lovely girl. Trying to make you feel good.” His fingers tightened around her wrists. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, tonight of all nights.”
“Come to what?” she asked in a high, thin voice. “Let go of me!”
But he didn’t let go. He yanked her shift up and out of the way and raised his arm behind her. His hand landed in a crack of fire across her bottom cheeks.
She was too shocked at first to react. Her husband had spanked her. Hard. Before she could draw breath to protest he spanked her again, and again, sharp, smarting strokes. “No,” she shrieked when she finally caught her breath. “Stop! Stop it!”
“I’ll stop when I believe you’ve been adequately punished for resisting me,” he said in a taut voice. “Your body is mine to caress if I wish it. As I said earlier, my will is law.”
His will? What about her rights as a wife, and as a person? Aurelia clung to his legs, the bed sheets, anywhere she could gain purchase, but no matter how she fought him, he overpowered her and bent her back over his lap. She slid on the fabric of his robe, her shift so disarranged that her breasts were exposed along with her smoldering bottom. Each crack of his hand felt like fire.
“Stop. Stop,” she begged, kicking her legs out. “Please stop.”
“I’m not sure you’ve learned your lesson yet.”
“Help,” she screamed, thinking perhaps a footman or maid might come to her rescue. “Lord Townsend is beating me. Please! Please help!”
If anything, the blows rained harder and hotter. “No one is going to rescue you, my dear,” he said between spanks. “My will is law for them too. Scream all you like. It won’t do any good.”
She cried instead, hating him for holding her down across his lap, hating his will and his horrible, punishing hand. She cried great, gusty tears of entreaty that didn’t seem to affect him in the least.
“Such dramatics,” he said, landing some smacks to the sensitive skin of her upper thighs. She gasped and bucked upon his lap. “Didn’t your father ever spank you this way for being a bad girl?”
“No!” she wailed. “I’ve never been a bad girl.”
“I beg to differ.”
He gave her three more solid cracks and then righted her, setting her on her feet. When she tried to set her shift in order, he tore the rest of it off her. If he’d ordered the garment, he’d destroyed it too. She stared at him, her bottom throbbing and her knees trembling. When she reached to cover her breasts, he made a sound of denial that stopped her.
“It’s my body, Aurelia. It’s not yours to cover any more, is it?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. No one had warned her that marriage might be this way. In her wildest nightmares of life with Lord Townsend, she hadn’t imagined this. “I want to cover myself up,” she said plaintively.
“That may be so, but I get pleasure from looking at you naked, so if I take your clothes off, you’ll leave them off. If I want to kiss and suck your breasts, you’ll let me kiss and suck your breasts. If I want to push you back and take you, you’ll spread your pretty little legs and damn well let me do it.”
Each word was delivered with cool, crisp inflection, until the quiver in her knees became a shake.
“Now, apologize for resisting me, on our wedding night of all nights,” he said. “Say it prettily, my love. ‘I’m sorry, my lord husband, for resisting you.’”
What else could she do? She couldn’t bear to be spanked again, and she knew that’s what would happen if she didn’t comply with his command. She wiped the tears from her face. “I’m sorry, my lord husband, for resisting you.”
“Look at me, Aurelia.” He waited until she managed to drag her gaze to his. “Let’s be clear about things from the start. If you resist me in this again, you’ll be punished. If you whine, if you disobey, if you act disrespectfully, you’ll be punished. If you annoy me, you’ll be punished. Fair warning, my darling. Do you understand?”
She stared into his dark eyes. She was so unsettled, so frightened, so traumatized, she couldn’t think for a moment. “I don’t want that to happen again.”
“Then you must behave, mustn’t you?” His gaze softened the slightest bit. “It was silly of you to resist when I was only trying to give you pleasure. Husbands and wives do these things. They kiss and caress. They make love. How do you think I felt when you pushed me away?”
“Angry,” she managed, when it became clear he wanted an answer.
“Yes, angry. Frustrated. Rejected. Now you have a sore bottom because of it. Turn around.”
She did, aching with shame. For long seconds he made her stand there and endure his scrutiny. She flinched as his cool hands traveled over each throbbing bottom cheek. “You’ll sit prettily for a couple of days. A helpful reminder for you.” He turned her back around. “Lie on the bed and spread your legs now, and try to behave as a good wife should.”
She swallowed hard. She had been taught her whole life to keep her legs closed, to be pure and prim. Didn’t he understand how difficult this was?
At her hesitation, he gave her a warning look. “I’ll get a whip next, and you won’t sit for a week.”
“I’m so afraid.” The words burst out of her, weak and humiliating.
“You’re afraid because you’re resisting. If you’d let it happen, you’d find it’s not as bad as your maiden’s fears.” He let out a sigh. “Has no one educated you about sexual intimacies in marriage?”
“I was educated,” she said, sniffling. But that education didn’t mention tearing clothes, and spankings, and whips.
“What would your parents think about the way you’ve conducted yourself this evening?” he asked. “You’re here in my beautiful home, my own lawful wi
fe, and you had to be spanked like a naughty child for refusing my touch. I’m nearing the end of my patience.” He pointed to the bed.
Aurelia crawled onto the counterpane, certain he was staring at her hot, aching bottom. When she tried to slip under the sheets, his sharp voice stopped her.
“No. Lie on top. Spread your legs as I told you.”
She looked over at him. He’d taken off his robe and turned to drape it over the back of a chair. His buttocks were sleek and tight. His entire back looked powerful, bunched muscles radiating strength. Then he turned.
Aurelia’s breath hitched in her chest. From her mother’s vague description of the aroused male anatomy, she’d expected something more of the size of a finger. Lord Townsend’s member looked the size of all her fingers put together, and then some.
She looked away, feeling panicked. Trapped. She’d been taught the mechanics of sex but never imagined the relative size of things. Lord Townsend would tear her asunder with that thick shaft, and he wouldn’t care. That was the worst of it. He didn’t care about her, he only cared that she respected and obeyed him. She could not, could not, make her legs part. They seemed to draw together of their own accord.
He stood beside the bed, tall and threatening, with that great, thrusting sex organ bobbing obscenely toward her.
“I’m waiting,” he said.
She thought he could wait until he died. She couldn’t open her legs and offer herself to be plundered.
“You prefer the whip then?” he asked in a patient voice. “Either way, this marriage shall be consummated.”
She didn’t want the whip. She flinched at the threat in his stare and inched her legs apart. She supposed it was enough to mollify him, for he came to the bed and pressed them the rest of the way open, one palm braced on the inside of each thigh. He knelt between her legs, coming over her so his own body weight and breadth kept her spread open. She could feel the broad, hot tip of him against her most private place.
I’m afraid. Don’t hurt me. Please don’t make me do this. She didn’t say any of the thoughts spinning in her mind because she knew he would disregard her pleas. She tried to think of Lord Warren. Surely he wouldn’t have been like this, heavy and rough, and impatient, and demanding. He never would have spanked her for resisting...but she wouldn’t have resisted him. She looked up into the face of her husband, guiltily. He’d spank her again if he knew she was thinking about his friend.
