He swept her up in his arms. “Sweet little wife. I’m not angry anymore. And I accept your apology.” He kissed the top of her head, then summoned some resolve. “I am still going to teach you a lesson with my belt, though.”
Daisy said nothing, just remained pressed against his body, as if drawing strength from him.
“Take off your clothes.”
* * *
Daisy drew a breath as she allowed her dress to fall open and spill to her feet. She clutched the skirt of the chemise in her fingers, but hesitated, embarrassed.
“One…” Sir Barrett began to count.
She sprang into action, tearing the chemise off and dropping it on top of the gown before he got to ‘three.’ She stood blushing before him as he took a long, leisurely survey of her body. Warmth pooled between her legs.
“Turn around,” he commanded.
She bit her lip and rotated, showing him her backside. Her bottom still tingled and burned from the hand spanking he’d given her. She heard the sound of his footsteps moving away, but she did not dare turn to see what he was doing, since he had not given her permission.
“Daisy, come here,” he said after a few moments.
She turned to see he had folded several blankets and stacked them on topof one another. Realizing his intent, genuine fear rooted her to the floor.
“Daisy,” he repeated, not raising his voice.
She forced her feet to move forward, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. She’d never felt more vulnerable in her life.
He reached out his large hand as if to comfort her and she placed hers in it. He led her to the side of the bed and tapped the stack of blankets.
Her body felt leaden as she crawled on top of the stack designed to lift and present her bottom for his chastisement. The skin on her back, bottom, and legs crawled in anticipation of the leather belt. “Please, sir,” she found herself begging before he’d even started. “Forgive me.”
“I have already forgiven you, little Daisy, but I need to be sure you understand this lesson.”
“I do understand it,” she assured him, her palms both cold and sweaty at the same time. She could almost hear the frantic thump of her heart pulsing in her ears.
“I’m not going to go easy on you; this rule is a serious one for me. I do believe your intentions came from your sweet and loving heart, and I will take that into consideration. Do you need me to tie your hands to keep you from reaching back?”
The question only drove more fear into her. “No, sir,” she squeaked.
He picked up his belt from where he’d discarded it on the floor and wound one end around his fist until the remaining length was a bit longer than his forearm. He pressed a hand into her low back and slapped the belt across her raised buttocks.
She squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath to keep from crying out. He brought it down a second time and then a third. It was not as horrid as the riding crop had been. She thought she could handle it until she began to doubt he would ever stop. She abandoned her attempt to lie still and quiet after twenty-five strokes. Her bottom blazed and she was sure she could not take any more. Each new slap of the thick leather caused her to jump and kick as she wriggled all over the pile of blankets. Without thinking, she reached back to try to cover her poor welted flesh.
“Naughty wife,” Barrett murmured, grasping her two wrists in one of his large hands and holding them against her low back. He returned to whipping her and she began to cry.
“Please, Barrett. Please. I’m so sorry,” she begged.
On and on he whipped, until she gave up all fight and lay sobbing into the covers. She did not even notice the whipping had ended until Barrett scooped her up into his arms and settled on the bed, holding her cradled against his chest.
She clung to him like a child, soaking his shirt with her tears as he stroked her back and kissed her hair. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.
“You’re forgiven, angel,” he murmured. “It’s all over now.”
She drifted to sleep nestled against Barrett, exhausted.
When she woke, he had gone. Her bottom still throbbed from her spanking and she imagined her eyes must be red and swollen from crying. She wondered if he had locked her in the room. She dressed and tested the door and found it open. She shut it again, not willing to show her face in the castle until she felt more like herself.
The rabbits were gone and a fresh fire burned in the hearth, so Barrett could not have been gone for long. She lay on her stomach and thought about her husband.
She loved him. He had been so worried for her safety and so careful with her—only spanking with his hand while he was angry, and apologizing for scaring her. And even though the whipping had been sound, she didn’t mind. She took it as proof of his love—he would not allow her to endanger herself without consequences.
