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“No one is coming but you, darling.”
He braced her back against the tree’s sturdy planter—the leaves rustled slightly—and lifted her skirts just enough to find his way to her wet, slick center. She clung to him as he impaled her, his length sliding deep. She was panicked about being caught, yes, but she also felt delirious with pleasure. He was so large, so satisfying. Her walls gripped him, white-hot sensation flying from her middle out to the rest of her body. Her nipples had gone hard beneath her stays, rubbing against the material as he thrust in her.
“I want you deeper. Faster,” she murmured. “Yes, fuck me.”
With a groan he lifted her right from the ground, one of her legs draped over his arm. She circled him with the other leg and whimpered from the sheer depth of his fucking. He drove hard, so deep inside her she lost all control. She was being too noisy, she knew. He shushed her but she couldn’t help the groaning sounds coming from her mouth. He was right, no one would probably come at this time of day and find them here. The servants worked the greenhouse in the mornings and wouldn’t normally return until evening to select flowers for the dinner table.
God help any servant who entered right now, with them in such carnal and lecherous activity.
“Oh, it feels too good,” she said, hanging onto his shoulders. The singular yellow lemon bobbed in her periphery as she rode his cock. “It feels so full and hot and wonderful.”
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, egging her on. “What you needed?”
“Yes! Oh, oh. Please!”
He was careful not to disarrange her hair as he grasped her neck, holding her closer, but she made a mess of his, pulling it from its leather tie to fall about his shoulders. Their eyes locked. His were savage with passion. Her pussy clenched from the heat of his regard, and she could feel herself a hair’s breadth from annihilation.
What if someone sees? What if someone comes?
She could not care. Her husband whispered roughly, “Yes. Now. Yes, my wanton.” She reached that apex of feeling, that moment when her body seemed to fall apart into a thousand blissful pieces, all of them shuddering and clenching. The glorious climax lasted long moments while she gripped and milked his thrusting shaft. It was fortunate he had the presence of mind to hold onto her. She’d have fallen otherwise, right back into the massive planter containing their lemon tree.
As for her, she could not be contained. She gasped and contracted upon him again as he surged within her, finding his own completion. Still, he didn’t drop her. Such a wondrous level of erotic skill.
He was breathless though, as was she. He let her down gently, rearranging her skirts and tucking his formidable tool of ravishment back into his trousers’ falls. Then they met one another’s eyes and laughed.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she chided. “Here in public.”
“You’re the one who did it, darling. How was I supposed to resist?”
“You’re blaming me?”
He grinned with a glint in his eyes. “Whoever’s fault it was, you’re the one who’ll be spanked for the transgression.”
“But I just had my weekly spanking yesterday.” She’d felt the lingering soreness as he’d gripped her bottom in the throes of lovemaking. It was part of the reason she’d come so hard.
“My dear,” he said, putting on his stern face, “when you require correction, schedules do not apply. You must be soundly punished for seducing me right here in the greenhouse where anyone might have seen us. We shall have to retire to the punishment room tonight after dinner to straighten you out.”
She still felt hot and aroused from their coupling; his threats of a spanking weren’t helping calm her body from its sensual high. Now she must make it through the rest of the day’s activities, playing hostess, smiling for their guests, knowing all the while that her husband’s discipline awaited her. He’d remind her at every opportunity with secret, suggestive glances. She didn’t know whether to moan in ecstasy or cry.
“Well, I suppose in the end it was worth it, even if I must be punished,” she said, stroking a finger over the smooth lemon. “Though I find it very unfair.”
He kissed further complaints away, embracing her until she was dizzy with his scent and presence. When she reached for his falls again, he gripped her hand. “Not now. At some point we must rejoin our guests, you incurable temptress. Yet another trespass to chalk up to your punishable sins. Come with me, before I lose my control again in this damned hothouse.”
Oh, did he look a bit too long at the available ginger plants as he guided her out? He made use of the irritating root so often, they were always in danger of running out. It would be a mercy for her bottom if they did, but when the supply dwindled, Marlow simply called for them to cultivate more.
No, she was in for a life of punishment and discipline, no matter the circumstances. She had already come to accept that. These days, it was just a question of how far he would go to fulfill her licentious cravings, and his.
*
Marlow bubbled and boiled all day, every day, aching with the need to have her. This was his lot now, a burden he gladly carried. Following their hot encounter in the greenhouse, it seemed a lifetime before they could be alone again.
At last, after dinner and a couple hours of amusement with their guests, the children were settled in bed and the families retired to their chambers. He was finally able to order his wife to the punishment room, a perverse chamber adjacent to their bedrooms. It was a bit larger than the room he used to punish her in town. It had the same equipment, but with more space for his spanks to echo and her moans and groans to reverberate.
“Everything off, Rosalind,” he told her as soon as they entered. Sometimes he stripped her slowly, over the course of working her over. Tonight, he wished her to be naked and vulnerable from the start.
“Yes, sir,” she said in her most obedient tone.
By God, he was already aroused to bursting after spending the entire afternoon in anticipation. He would have to fuck her and punish her at once.
