“Follow me.” I stand and march across the hall.
The soft footfalls behind me are sufficient evidence to convince me that Tally is not entirely dismayed at the prospect of another spanking. I smile to myself as she trails in my wake. I take the stairs two at a time and lead the way to the master chamber. I open the door then stand back to gesture her inside.
I am familiar with the room, but of course Tally is not. Once inside I allow her a few moments to gaze around her and assess her new environment. The room is comfortable enough, I would accept no less. The fire casts a soft warmth that fills the chamber. I hate the cold and my servants have instructions to keep the fires in my quarters well-tended. The floor is madeof wood, but strewn with a variety of rugs so bare feet are an option. A garderobe is discreetly enclosed behind a screen, and sweetened by bunches of pungent herbs refreshed on a daily basis.
The stone walls have been rendered with lime and mortar that excludes all but the most determined draughts, then painted in a design to imitate stonework, decorated with five petaled roses. The usual ochre shades of reds and browns have been supplemented by greens and blues that I purchased on my travels around the surrounding kingdoms. I could flaunt my wealth in the great hall downstairs, and I do so to some extent, but I have always preferred to reserve the greatest comforts for my own private enjoyment. And now Tally’s. I dislike austerity and have the means to indulge my tastes, so the comforts of my private chamber are further enhanced by thick hangings and tapestries collected over several generations, which adorn my walls and also serve to retain the heat.
Tally no doubt takes in much of these details, but her attention is mainly riveted on the solid bed in the centre of the room. It is old, belonged to my father, and I believe my grandfather before him. It has stood in this chamber for at least three generations and is likely to see off several more. The bed curtains, embroidered by my grandmother with the vivid reds and golds of the Richtenholst crest, hang from the ceiling. They provide both warmth and seclusion, and are pulled back now to reveal the mattress stuffed with down, and the straw-filled bolster at the head.
The room is lit by two torches, their glow mingling with the firelight to create an atmosphere that is intimate yet quite sufficient for me to enjoy the glorious sight of my bride’s naked bottom.
“Tally, I recall you mentioned a preference for being naked when I spank you.” That is not exactly what she said, but I am an optimist.
She casts me a nervous glance. “Yes, of course, Stefan. But it has been a long journey, and although our welcome has been warm enough I am fatigued. I wonder, could we not just go to bed?”
It would seem my bride is an optimist also.
“Tally, I do not appreciate being kept waiting. Undress, please.” I harden my tone on purpose, just a little, sufficient to end this procrastination. I want her compliant, but not cowed.
I must have managed to strike the right balance because Tally makes no further ado, divesting herself of her kirtle and undergarments. I detect a slight hesitation before she unlaces her chemise and slides it from her shoulders to reveal her exquisite breasts. It would seem there has been some rekindling of her modesty after our enforced abstinence this last two days and nights. I intend to dispel that.
Despite the warmth of the fire she is shivering, her eyes downcast. She is nervous, no doubt feeling vulnerable. Knowing this I offer no praise, no compliments on the exquisite perfection of her body now bared to me.Instead I feign indifference, requiring her to quell those doubts herself. I leave Tally to stand in the centre of my chamber, nude, whilst I perch on the edge of the bed to unfasten my boots and kick those off. Then I pull my tunic over my head and rid myself of my shirt. This will do for now. I settle on the bed, my back against the headboard.
I summon her to me with a hand gesture. She approaches, her expression apprehensive. She is gnawing on that bottom lip again. I doubt that habit will persist for much longer, but I intend to enjoy it while it lasts.
“Lie across my lap and fold your hands in the small of your back.” I am careful to maintain a low, even tone. She needs to know that I mean what I say, and that I am calm even though she is not.
She obeys me in silence. This is progress. The last time I put her over my knee I recall her protests were most vigorous.
“Make yourself comfortable, and tell me when you are ready.”
She wriggles on my lap, causing my already solid cock to twitch and strain against my chausses. Perhaps I should have stripped completely after all. Still, we are here now. She reaches behind her and clasps her hands together at the base of her spine.
“I am ready, Stefan.”
I am gratified to note that she is becoming quite good at getting my name right. Such an avid pupil. This night I have another lesson for her.
I lay my palm on her pert, round buttock and caress the delicate globe. There is no hint of redness or of bruising from my earlier attentions, which is both relief and disappointment to me. I like to see a woman carrying my marks, but I have no wish to cause either too much discomfort or unnecessary harm to her. I will view Tally’s pale, delicate curves as a blank canvas this evening.
I draw my hand over her bottom, making large circles, first on one side, then the other. I press on hard, my fingers sinking into the firm yet soft flesh. Tally lets out a sigh, and appears to be enjoying this despite her obvious trepidation that my caress may be a prelude to a more challenging episode.
I continue to stroke as she arches her back to offer me more of her bottom. I suspect she is doing this with no conscious thought, just relaxing into the moment.
The first tap, when I deliver it, is so soft, so light as to pass unnoticed. I massage her curves a little more, then drop another light smack on her pinkening cheek. Still no reaction. I continue, increasing the intensity by increments until the sensation starts to register.
“Oh. Oh, Stefan.” She breathes the words on a low moan.
I increase the pressure again, just a little, nothing to jar, nothing to disturb the intimacy of this moment. The pleasure is shared. I admire the deepening hue of her bottom as the spanking builds, and Tally writhes under my hand, her soft moans all the response I need to hear.
I maintain the intensity of my slaps for several minutes before ramping the pressure up again, just enough to elicit a gasp. Tally clenches her buttocks, the relaxed softness replaced by tight, wincing flesh. Her bottom has darkened to a bright crimson, the heat radiating from her tender skin. She whimpers, and I know this is enough. I have brought her to the point of pain and edged her slightly beyond. She is uncomfortable and expects to become more so in the coming few minutes. She is anticipating a punishment, after all. Instead I begin our descent, reducing the severity of the blows, interspersing sharp slaps with gentle caresses to soothe the burn away. At once her bottom softens again and she relaxes under my ministrations, allowing her body to sag in relief, boneless across mine.
As my palm finally comes to rest on her heated skin she is still. Her fingers are loose, no longer clasping her wrists. She is not quite asleep, but very nearly so.
I slip my fingers into the crease between her buttocks and seek out first her quim, then her clitoris. She parts her legs as I trace my fingers through her folds, her wetness coating them. I stroke the tip of her clitoris. She thrusts her hips up, her back arches in wanton invitation. I sink two fingers inside her, delivering three or four quick thrusts before withdrawing my hand and concentrating on her sensitive clit again.
I know she is close to her climax. I can see it in the clenching of her buttocks and the eager thrusting of her hips. I can hear it in her breathy moans, and I can feel it in the quiver of her soft, swollen bud under my fingertip.
I use my free hand to thrust inside her again, the strokes long and slow, and never letting up on her plump clitoris until her body convulses in gasping, moaning delight. Her quim is spasming around my fingers, her clit throbbing. Her legs are spread wide and I lean over to see the delicate beauty of her sex, open and welcoming, begging to be fucked.
