The Accused Wife is free from prison, but not from guilty thoughts. Can the new man in her life help her?
What a commotion of emotions. Each and every one shouted in her ear to heard. She’d responded to his command to undress with relative ease, but dithered when it came to the voices in her own head. He patted his lap and sharpened his gaze yet further. Such dark, broody eyes and quite affecting. All kinds of sensations were erupting across her body, most of them centred in her lower belly.
“Come, come,” he said. “Do you think I would harm you?”
She shook her head.
“Then slide across and I will hold you in place.”
She slithered down and lay upon his firm thighs, jiggling until she was balanced. Her hands were pressed palms down on the russet carpet, he shoeless toes anchored on the other side of the chair.
Oh heavens, she murmured soundlessly, so that only her beating heart might know of her excitement. He promised penitence and she wished for it, but also, she had unexplained feelings that she couldn’t identify. She had never felt them towards Maximilian.
Alexander gathered up the chemise and drew the fabric together until he had it bundled on top of her back. Even more slowly, he dragged her cotton drawers down, revealing her behind and the creases of her upper thighs.
He exhaled softly and rested a broad hand on her tender rump. “Calm yourself, my dear. You must unravel this tension.”
She thought it impossible. Her buttocks were hardened and taut, but he waited as she inhaled and attempted to relax. As she did, her furrow widened, and she imagined he had a fine view of her privates.
“Now,” he said with a gentle snort, “I don’t want you to scream or shout. You will boldly take this spanking and not interfere with your hands, nor kick with your feet.”
“Yes, sir.” She looked over her shoulder and snatched a glimpse of his fine face—lips pressed together, eyes focused on her uncovered bottom as if he was mapping it out.
She scrunched eyes closed and held her breath. The first snap of his palm across one cheek caused her to cry out and jerk. The sound was alarming, but the bite of his hand less so. It stung, briefly, then as he rubbed circles, it dissipated. Another smack on the other cheek and she tensed again. However, she muted her cry. Again, he soothed the burn with his cool palm.
“You have had a lucky escape, Caroline.” He slapped the first cheek once more. Harder. Crisper. She gasped and dug her toes in deeper.
“Yes, sir,” she concurred. But, she wasn’t quite sure if he meant Maximilian or the noose. Both kinds of escape were equally momentous and welcome.
“I’m very—” she jolted as he swept another imprint of his hand across her bottom— “grateful for your—” she mewled a tiny cry as he maintained the rhythm— “generosity.”
“Yet, here you lie,” he noted, rattling off the spanks without any genteel rubs. “Across my lap and battling guilty thoughts.”
She might have been, but now she was battling something quite different. New sensations emanated from where her thighs pressed together.
“I am,” she half-heartedly agreed. The smarts of his slapping hand continued but they seemed only to punctuate her rambling thoughts rather than intrude. She should despise a man who treated her so, and yet, far from it, she felt closer to Alexander as if he was building a special bridge between them. She wondered if he meant for her to confess to other mistakes. What else had she done wrong? A harder swipe of his palm against her buttock jolted her out of her meandering thoughts and she winced.
“I was very…” she plucked the word out of her head because it seemed appropriate, “Careless.” Was it that simple—to admit her mistakes, bear the spanking and allow it to wash away her faults until she felt unburdened? What was to follow this most intimate of punishments? The subtler changes that affected her body were naught to do with pain and seemed more akin to pleasure. Was it possible to feel so aroused and at the same time contrite?
“Very naughty. You would never behave so thoughtlessly with me, nor failed to communicate your worries,” he added. He alluded to his expectations and she understood staying silent would never work with Alexander.
“Oh, no. Never,” she wailed, struggling to keep still. He gripped her tighter around the waist.
The heat of so many strokes blurred into one furnace. Could anything be worse than this? What if he used a belt or a whip, or worse a rod? Would she be able to bear it? She paddled her feet on the floor and twisted her head from side to side.
Tears were forming in her eyes. She clung onto them for as long as she could. Then, they started to cascade down her nose and cheeks.
“I would be good for you, sir,” she shrilled.
Alexander spanked her cheeks back and forth as a drummer would without pausing, but he was listening to her.
“I’m sure you would be good. You would obey me?”
“Yes, oh, yes.” She knew she would.
“And never keep secrets from me?”
“Because, how can I take care of you if you hide your fears and anxieties. You would do me no service.”
He stopped and rubbed her blazing backside with sweeping circles of his heated palm. He too was on fire.