Using a quilted blanket, Gethin wrapped Ella up like a parcel and fed her biscuits and water. “Eat,” he commanded when she turned her nose up at the plate—her appetite had vanished. He furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes, forming a most stern expression, and she changed her mind. It perplexed her why such a display of authority caused her to tingle all over, as if she wanted him to throw himself upon her and ravish her—a contrast to how she’d felt about Viscount DeLancy.
However, being in a feeble and exhausted state, she was grateful Gethin had cleansed her sore pussy and bottom, and then let her slumber. He’d come back from time to time, and stroked her forehead, made her drink plenty, and soothed her with an embrace.
Where he went she didn’t know. She slept all afternoon, into the evening and throughout the night, alone for much of the time, but content. He’d made his excuses, whispering he’d business to attend to and was pleased with her, loved her. Those words she carried close to her heart, holding them tight and amazed at her good fortune to be engaged to Lord Powell. The contrast from the man who’d claimed her virginity and the one who vanquished her discomforts was extraordinary.
Dozing, she planned her wedding ceremony, something small and joyful and if her sisters came, she would delight in showing off her husband.
By the morning light when she woke, she stretched, yawned repeatedly, and basked in the summer sunshine blazing through the window. Gethin was absent, but he’d left fruit and hot coffee by the bed, which meant he must have been in the room waiting for her to stir.
She touched her sex and to her relief, felt no lasting soreness from her first fuck. She smirked as the naughty word danced about in her head, conjuring up other lewd images. She liked it, what it meant.
As for her bottom, that was a different matter. It throbbed and still felt warm. She tentatively sat up and sipped on the coffee.
Clothes! She’d nothing to wear. He’d destroyed her dress and petticoats, even snapped the bones in her corset. What to do?
Without knocking, Gethin entered the room. Ella pulled the blanket up over her bare breasts.
“Good, you’re awake,” he declared. Reaching over, he pulled the blanket down and uncovered her bosom. “Keep them so, I like looking at them. In fact, climb out of bed so I can inspect you.”
She hesitated. Where were the servants?
“Ella!” he commanded.
She jumped and slid out from under the covers. She stood by the bed, trying to make herself as small as possible. “I haven’t any clothes,” she whispered, ashamed at her lack of apparel.
“I know. Of course, if you’d packed like I asked, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” He shrugged and picked up her shoes, holding them out. “You can wear these.”
“Gethin,” she bleated. “You tore my only dress to shreds. Remember?”
“I do, indeed,” he nodded with a smirk.
“So it’s not my fault,” she said haughtily.
“I repeat, you did not pack anything.”
“I didn’t get the chance. You whisked me here! That was mean of you.” She stomped her foot.
Gethin inhaled deeply. “This attitude is not helping you. The servants have been dismissed for the day. I’ve decided, as part of your punishment for failing to prepare for your departure, you will remain naked for the duration of the day. That way I can look upon your curvaceous form unhindered.”
“No!” she gasped, horrified at the notion.
Gethin cocked his head to one side. “No?” he drawled. “Did you not agree to be my obedient wife, including any demands I might make upon you? Treat this as punishment or not, you will, Ella, be naked. The summer is upon us, the air is warm, you won’t feel cold. Now. Let me show you around the house. You may wear your shoes to protect your delicate soles.”
She huffed while putting them on, then she dragged her heels as she trailed behind him, paying little heed to his tour. The drawing room, with a handful of chairs and sofas, the dining room, the long gallery—for exercise when it rained, he remarked—and lastly the library. This room captured her attention. Shelves upon shelves of books, stacked high up to the ceiling requiring the use of a ladder to reach the upper shelves. She clapped her hands in delight, then swiftly covered her breasts again. He chuckled at her brief display of exuberance.
“You can use this room as much as you like. Let’s dine, then we can tour the garden.”
She expected him to give her a reprieve. To her chagrin, it never came. She had to sit next to him naked. Laid out in the dining room were covered platters of dry meats and cheese. Seated on his right side, she picked at her plate and squeezed her thighs together. Occasionally, while he ate a slice of ham, Gethin reached over and fondled her breasts or pinched her nipples. Grinning from ear to ear, he looked amused by her discomfort, also extremely happy.
“Part your legs,” he commanded.
She summoned her courage and opened up. There at the dining table, to her mortification, he probed her pussy, snaking a long finger inside and wriggling it. She hunched, struggling to keep her legs apart while in a state of denial—his sliding finger met no resistance. Her pussy seemed to welcome the attention.
“You’re wet.” He held up his shiny finger. “Whether you deny it or not, you need a good, hard fuck to satisfy that lust within you.”
Shocked by his vulgarity, she dropped her fork and snapped her legs together. “Please, let me have some clothes,” she sobbed.
“My dear, cease this snivelling. You must accept you are too gorgeous to keep shut behind dull clothing. I want you to appreciate how much I adore looking at you. Think of it as a compliment, rather than a disagreeable condition. Flaunt yourself. Go on. Sit up straighter, stick out your breasts, and hold your head up high.”
He leaned towards her. “Ella. You’re beautiful. Do as I ask.”
She slowly drew her shoulders back and lifted her head. Greeted by his smile, she blinked away the unshed tears. Whatever his reason for keeping her undressed, she had no doubts he loved her body.
They ate in silence and after, he took her hand and led her to the back of his house. On the threshold of the door leading out into the garden, she refused to move, unable to comply with his stern command to step outside.
“I cannot do this!” she baulked.
Gethin sighed. “So be it. You’ve earned another spanking and this one will be conducted outside.”
Ella scowled. What was the point of arguing with him? He was too strong, too determined and obstinate to back down. If she ran, he’d bring her back and carry out the punishment. He held her arm, guided her along the paths towards a walled garden. She stumbled a few times, her vision blurred by tears, her heart beating hard against her chest as she fought back the embarrassment of being naked in the open air. The birds shrilled their tweets, the crickets chirped, and the leaves rustled—to her shame, what she heard was nature cruelly depicting the sounds of laughter.
Gethin stopped by a tree stump. The axe marks had been smoothed out, the bark chipped away at the edges to create a flat surface, about the height of a table. “This will do. Bend over, please.”
She lowered herself over the stump, flinching at the hard surface. Her breasts flattened against the rings and she had to rise up onto her tiptoes.
“Part your legs. Wider.” When she froze, unable to move, he grasped her ankles and forced her legs apart. He ran his hands up the backs of her trembling legs, and the softness of his palms caused a purr of delight to leave her lips. When he reached her arse, he squeezed the lobes. She winced. She’d already been spanked twice in the last twenty-four hours and surely could not tolerate another chastisement.
“Please, my lord, my bottom is so tender,” she pleaded for mercy and attempted to stand.
Gethin pushed her back down. “It is. Not quite as red as yesterday, more a pink glow,” he commented in a matter-of-fact tone. “I want you to count. Twelve hard smacks.”
Twelve did not seem bad. She resigned herself to accepting her punishment and flopped back down. Then she saw what he held in his hand. A baton of wood, flat like an oar’s paddle, smooth and thick. From where he’d found it, she didn’t know.
He coiled his hand in her loose locks of hair and lifted her chin off the stump, raising her head. “I want to see your eyes. Hold position and stick your bottom up.”
The crack of wood against her beleaguered bottom resulted not in the count of one, but a screech of pain.
“One, my lord,” she mewled, once she recovered from the shock. With his firm grip on her hair, she couldn’t turn to look at him, so she closed her eyes and focused on absorbing the blows.
What had led her to be in this situation? Days ago, she’d lived with her papa, a comfortable if impoverished existence, brought about by his bad habits, which had transformed Ella into the laughing stock of the local nobility, without a chance of marriage and likely to live her life as a social outcast. Now, she was to be Lord Powell’s bride, a lady of title, the future mother of his heirs, and mistress of a vast house. Her fortunes had spun about in one day, one fateful day when she encountered Gethin in the woods. Or perhaps it had begun before then when the wolf chased away her assailant.
“Two,” she hollered as he delivered another harsh wallop. She writhed, twisting her bottom from side to side, and he waited until she returned to position. Taking a deep breath, she snatched another chance to think, to rationalise her choices.
Gethin had claimed her, deflowered her with ease, and provided her with her first act of sexual pleasure. He’d loaned her pathetic father money, saving him from debtors’ prison, and he treated her tenderly when she needed it. He’d warned her, before she agreed to be his wife, about his predilection for discipline and dominance. Twice, he’d given her the opportunity to cancel their agreement. Now, it was impossible. No longer a virgin, she had to submit to his demands.
“Three,” she shuddered, as the wood baton ricocheted off her poor arse. She gripped the edge of the stump and clung to it, while all the time he held her head up high, angling her bottom and keeping her posture rigid.
She blinked, opened her eyes, and stared at the brick wall close by. Nobody could hear or see them. She could scream if she wanted and they would not be disturbed. She had always wanted attention as a child, having lost her mother to illness, her father to drunkenness, her sisters to selfishness, and now she had the undivided attention of a handsome man, who’d declared himself her husband-to-be and lifelong lover. She remembered the picture of the woman being whipped, how it both horrified and drew her in, as if she wanted to know what it felt like to be spanked. Now, she knew—it was a pain that could not be ignored, but it also excited her in a way she’d not envisaged. Her submission, the strange thrill of acquiescence, had everything to do with the man who wielded the implement—Gethin, Lord Powell.
She sang out the numbers, keeping her voice as clear as she could manage. The tears she couldn’t halt, but they weren’t necessarily due to pain. She’d disappointed Gethin once again by denying him such a simple request. Gift him her body, her nudity for his private viewing—that was all he’d asked. Amongst the threat of punishment, she’d lost sight of how happy her beauty made him feel. Now she understood; she must put aside her needs and concentrate on his. Please him and she would enjoy their life together.
How easy it sounded, but she understood actions would come harder than the words, because her nature was to question and argue. She imagined his kind of discipline would be metered out more times before she learnt to quell her disobedience and be his good girl.
She sobbed. “Ten, my lord. I’m sorry. I will gladly be naked whenever you desire it.”
He’d said nothing throughout the spanking, as if he’d known she was thinking hard about her situation. He paused and rubbed down her cheeks. “So hot. You’re taking this very well. I’m glad you understand why this was necessary. I spank you not to see your pain, although I do confess witnessing your submission, your conduct, swells my cock to a hardness. What you will find hard to accept is that this turns you on. Your pussy is wet, your folds swollen like my cock. You desire my dominance, even when it causes you pain. Let me take that pain now and turn it back to pleasure.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He smacked her bottom with the makeshift paddle, not hard like the previous ten, but to honour the rules of punishment. He’d stated twelve, and she would receive twelve.
After the last smack, he threw the baton away and helped her to her feet. “Can you walk?”
“Good. There is a river close to the edge of the garden, we’ll take respite there.” He looped her arm around his and slowly walked her through garden, chatting as he strolled. “The gardener comes three days a week, not today, of course. I think he does remarkably well given the size of the estate. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, my lord.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
By the banks of a small river stood a weeping willow. The branches stretched out over the grassy banks, forming a curtain of leaves around the trunk. Leading Ella into the shadows of the tree, Gethin stood with his back to the bark and embraced Ella in his arms, kissing her with the passion she’d come to expect from his eager lips.
He explored her, stroking his hands up and down her back, over her heated bottom and between her legs. She quivered, unable to stop the arousal, which had begun while bent over the stump. Moaning with delight, she became limp in his arms, and she showed no resistance as he dove his fingers inside her drenched pussy. The gentleness of his touch altered when he discovered the extent of her arousal. He started to pinch her flesh, his lips nipped her taut neck, then he combed his fingers through her hair and bundled the tangled locks into his fist.
She gasped as he dragged her down, past the bulge in his breeches, forcing her to fold. She came to rest on her knees by his feet with her head aligned to his groin. Watching him undo his flap, her heart pounded with trepidation. Now, she would see his manhood for the first time.
Her eyes widened with amazement. He’d a cock the length of her foot. The smooth head gleamed, revealing a small slit and an oozing liquid. The foreskin was drawn tight and beneath the glans, a long shaft. Veins ribbed the length of it, one in particular standing out thick and pulsating.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded, and she did, and without much thought as to what she might achieve. Was she expected to kiss his cock tenderly, or perhaps lick it? She stuck out her tongue.
He leaned forward, dabbed the end of his cock on her outstretched tongue and before she could assimilate its taste and texture, he plunged it into her mouth and down to the back of her throat. She gagged, spluttered, and fought to lift her head up and away from his thrusting erection. He removed his cock and she attempted to scramble to her feet. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her down.
“Ella, you will take my cock in your mouth.”
“Oh, my lord. I can’t do this. You’re huge and—”
He tipped her chin up. “Ella, you swore to do whatever I asked of you. Now I do not wish to force my cock into your mouth, since that would not please me. It would please me if you opened your mouth and did as you are told.”
His cock wasn’t repulsive; to the contrary, she’d liked the taste of it, but she feared she could not cope with his size and the duration of his fucking. Gethin was a man who demanded his pleasure with stamina she didn’t believe she could ever match.
He briefly softened his expression, giving her a faint smile of encouragement, before grasping her hair and dragging her towards his cock. She leaned towards his member, fought her reticence, and closing her eyes, she lowered her mouth over his cock and sank upon it.
Gethin inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching about her scalp. Ella waited, unsure how she could maintain the depth of his penetration. He withdrew slightly, but his penis still filled her mouth, pressing down on her tongue and suffocating her.
Ella panicked—she couldn’t speak.
“Breathe through your nose,” he told her without relinquishing his grip on her hair. He’d locked her head into one position and held it there.
She sniffed, a shallow inhalation and smelt his musk. She clenched as the aroma of his scent lingered in her nostrils. Rather like his cock, she sensed saltiness and something else, undefinable, but nothing unpleasant or revolting. He smelt quite clean. She breathed again, deeper.
His cock hadn’t moved, although it twitched impatiently. She guessed he was waiting for her to calm down. Was this natural? Having a man’s member stuffed inside a mouth?
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reminded her, loosening his grip on her hair. “Keep your lips about your teeth, and lick and suck my cock. Do it!”
She coiled her tongue around his huge erection, struggling to find the space to lick him. When she sucked her cheeks in, he moaned and she tasted more saltiness and a tipple of thick liquid at the back of her throat. That tiny morsel of his cum excited every inch of her, creating swarms of tingles down her spine and goose bumps over her breast. Her nipples pricked into life and her breasts ached for more.
She sucked again and he stiffened. She tried to look up, but he kept her lowered over his cock, her eyes on his legs and her hands useless. She tucked them behind her back.
“Yes,” he growled. “Just your mouth on me. Open wider and keep your jaw relaxed. If you gag, don’t panic, I’m in control.”
She moaned an affirmation. He held her hair tight again, and his other hand scooped her chin into his palm. With her head in a pincer lock, she was at his mercy.
Gethin eased in and out of her mouth. He went no further than the end of her tongue, where she struggled not to gag on his engorged glans. When he lingered in her mouth, she remembered to suck and lick him, making him grunt with enthusiasm. The more she relaxed, the easier it became to accommodate his size. He explored her sensual orifice, pushing out her cheeks or altering the angle, as if to test her capabilities. Sometimes she gagged badly, almost retching, but he responded swiftly to alleviate the fearful symptoms of suffocation. His texture was extraordinary, a velvety leather with thick lines embossed on the surface. The head was so smooth and round, she could roll her tongue over it with ease. When he went deep, she had only the ability to envelope him and suck hard, which clearly he enjoyed as he swayed slightly, using the tree to rest against.
She understood. He was in control and she had to trust him, allow him to use her mouth for his pleasure and not to fight him. Although her jaw ached and she seemed to be a mess of drool, she wished for more.
“Good girl,” he muttered. “Play with your clitty. Make her come.”
At first, she’d no idea how to do it. She cupped her sex with a hand and rubbed. Throughout her masturbation, he fucked her mouth and held her head in his vise-like hands. Circling her emerging bud, she worked her fingers quicker, finding the spot that brought her to the brink of an orgasm. She shook all over as she came; overcome by the intensity of the climax, she bared her teeth a fraction.
He growled and a surge of hot liquid hit the back of her throat. She swallowed as his cock spurted his seed, and she gulped down the flow of creamy cum, barely able to keep up with the torrent. Salty and sweet, it tasted rich, and she wanted every last drop of his cum because somehow it generated a fiery heat in her belly and her blood coursed through her body with energy she’d not experienced before in her life. Her breasts swelled, her sex rippled, and throughout she envisaged wild thoughts of Gethin taking her hard and with a roughness no ordinary woman could withstand. She nearly came again with the power of those visions.
Gethin’s guttural tones awoke her from the reverie of daydreaming. “Lick me clean.”
She slurped on the head, licked the drops running down his thick shaft and around his balls. Finally, he let go of her hair and her head drooped down. Ella panted, gasping for air. Below, the spasms of her orgasms continued to circle her wet pussy.
Gethin patted her head, then stroked her tangles in long sweeps. She rested her head on his thigh. By her nose, his cock stayed erect and unchanged. Did not a man’s member go limp after he’d spilt his seed?
“Well done. You will improve with practise and I will be able to slide my cock down your throat with ease until you can taste my balls.” He ran the back of his hand down her cheek and brushed aside the tears created by her gagging. “When you drink me, the bond between us strengthens, your transformation into my mate will be hastened. Every day, you must drink my cum and absorb my seed in your pussy.”
She hugged her stomach, still feeling the warmth of his cum inside. “Why?” she asked. “And your cock, sir. Why has it not rested itself?”
He chuckled. “I told you I am a hard man to please. My cock demands much attention and frequently. I am… not like other men. You must yield to me whenever it is hard and for as long as it is hard, possibly several times a day.”
She trembled all over. So often! Was it possible?
“The more you absorb my cum, the more you will adapt to my demands. The pleasure will grow too, until you are in a state of constant rapture. I am marking you, my love; not on the outside, but deep inside your soul.”
“Your seed, will it bring us children?”
“You’re not ready. When you are, the seed will do what it must. For now, it is medicinal and necessary. This nudity I enjoy will feature whenever we are alone and when we fuck, you must not look at my face without my permission.”
“Why not?” She’d not seen his face when he came, and she was desperate to see his pleasure.
“Do not question me, Ella. Remember your obedience. I like it when you kneel at my feet. Also, to speed up our bonding, I wish to make use of your bottom hole for my pleasure. Imagine the vigour when I plant my seed in all of you!”
Ella shrank away from him. Looking up, she saw a wildness in his eyes, which were so black they looked like pits. He meant it. “I cannot possibly take you there. It is surely a monstrous act of debauchery.” Even her picture cards had not shown her such a deed. “I refuse.”
He pulled her to her feet and pushed aside the hanging branches of the willow, leading her away from the river towards a brier batch on the edge of the garden. The small wilderness harboured all manner of weeds and wildflowers. He pointed at the nettles. “See those?”
“Yes,” she mumbled.
“The next time I punish you, I will take those nettles. You will hold apart your arse cheeks and I will press a leaf against your bottom hole. Then as you prickle with stings, you will be whipped with the stems. Six strikes using a bundle you will pick for me.”
Ella stepped backwards—the idea horrified her. Yet, he had described her acquiescence as integral to her punishment. She would pick the stems. She would offer up her bottom for his discipline. While the nature of the punishment appalled her, the image of her yielding excited her pussy. Would it be so terrible to be fucked in the bottom?
“My bottom hole is tiny,” she whimpered.
“It is. But it will stretch and I will teach it to.” He tipped up her chin and kissed her gently on the lips. “You must not fear my demands upon you. We are a perfect match, you and I. When I fill that tight passage, you will be amazed at the way it makes you feel, how you will come. I shall hold you tight, keep you bent beneath me.”
What a vision of lust—his muscular body entombing her emboldened form, keeping her cocooned, inside and out. She nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”
He grasped his erection in his hands and fisted it. “Get down on your hands and knees,” he ordered, his eyes flashed with a brightness—the familiar yellow tinge. “I need to give your pussy a hard fuck.”
This content is linked through SNP’s Newsletter! Don’t miss out on all the free content! It doesn’t stick around long! Add your email below!