I lift my chin in a gesture of mock haughtiness. “I was merely being respectful, my lord.”
“Is the door locked?”
I step back to it and slide the bolt home. “It is now, Stefan.”
My husband seats himself on a low, straight-backed chair in the centre of the room. It has no arms, and in normal use I daresay would be somewhat uncomfortable. It is perfect for spanking though.
“I note you refreshed our supply of switches the other day. You will find them in the chest below the window. Select one and bring it to me. Then you may arrange yourself across my lap and raise your skirts.”
I kneel beside the chest and open the lid. There, lying on top of a pile of folded linens, are the half dozen or so switches I cut and brought back from the coppice the day before yesterday. I had wondered where my husband had stored them. This is not a punishment switching so I have no reason to fear his treatment of me this morning. And of course there is also the matter of my delicate condition. I select the switch that seems to me to be most supple, most likely to deliver a sweet, sharp bite, then I close the lid and stand up to pass the instrument to Stefan.
He gestures to me to get into position, so I waste no time in doing so. The cool draught of air across my naked buttocks is an exhilarating precursor to a spanking, and over recent months I have come to love that sensation. I sigh my contentment as Stefan palms my soft flesh, sensitising my skin in readiness. I wrap my fingers around the front leg of his chair and lift up my bottom, adopting just the pose I know he likes without his even needing to instruct me nowadays.
“Are you ready, Tally?”
“Yes, my lord. Perfectly ready. But there is something you should perhaps know before we start.”
“And what is that, my love?”
“I believe I am pregnant.”
“Believe?”
“My courses are late.”
“How late?”
“Almost three weeks, my lord.”
“And you only now think to mention this, when you are poised across my lap, your gorgeous bottom raised for my punishment?”
“I intended to tell you today, Stefan. Does it make a difference? To my spanking, I mean?”
“It makes a difference to me. Until I have considered this matter and concluded how I might best spank you without fear of harming you or our child, I prefer to settle for fucking you instead.”
“I believe that might be an acceptable alternative, my lord. And since my skirts are already raised perhaps you might like to remain seated as you are and I will straddle you.”
“A delightful notion, but that would be you fucking me I fear.”
“Does it really matter, Stefan?” I twist on his lap until I am upright, facing him, my legs spread wide on either side of his. I lift his linen tunic to reach the fastenings on his chausses and undo those in one practised move.
“I daresay it does not. Not in the grand scheme of things. Tell me, when did you become so shameless?”
“The day you married me, my lord.”
I shift, lifting my body to position his cock at my entrance, then sink down onto him. My quim is already drenched from the near spanking, but the friction is still intense. Still quite, quite sublime.
“God’s bones, woman. That feels so damn good.” Stefan’s sexy voice has dropped an octave or two, his face now buried in the hollow of my neck.
“It does, my lord. It truly does. Now be still and allow me to conclude our business.”
I am amazed that he does, after a fashion. It does not take long, and ten minutes later I am snuggled on his knee, my cheek against his chest as I listen to the wondrous sound of his heartbeat.
“May I return to my embroidery now, my lord?”
“All in good time. You distracted me. You may be surprised to learn that I did not summon you here just because I wanted to fuck my wife. Sorry, be fucked by my wife, delightful as that was.”
“No, my lord? Did you have some other matter you wanted to raise with me then?”
