He’s talking like an eighteenth-century earl, but I am not going to point that out right now. He can sound how he likes. I just want him to be nice to me.
“What I am going to do to you is going to hurt,” he says. “But you need it. It has to happen so you have a reference point for what will happen if you ever disobey me again. This is a dangerous world, and I can only keep you safe if you do as you are told. Do you understand me?”
“I understand, but…”
“No buts,” he says. “I will not tolerate deviance from my orders. I will try my best not to be an unfair dictator, but I am the one in charge. You will answer to me. You will be my bride.”
“Weird proposal,” I mutter nervously. “I just wanted to see her…”
Arguing with him only makes his expression close more. He is looking at me with self-control and complete determination.
Aiden
“I gave you an order, and I will be obeyed. Always, in all things. I know the soft words of my brothers have led you to believe there is no need for you to do as you are told, that you have escaped tyranny. But you haven’t, sweet thing. And you never will. You belong to me as much as you have ever belonged to anyone. More. Really.”
I sit down on the bed, draw her over my legs, and start the punishment with a spanking. At first it is a simple hand warming, not terribly hard. I want this to go on for a long time. I want her to remember the heat for days, if not weeks from now.
Best to teach the lesson well, then to have to teach it over and over again.
“I did you a disservice the first time you ran,” I say. “I should have hunted you ruthlessly and ravaged you to the point you could not think, let alone speak.”
“That is what you did!”
“Did I? I did not do it enough,” I comment, continuing to spank as her beautiful ass turns from a pink hue to something much more red.
“I’m sorry! Well, I’m not sorry,” she says, making things immediately worse for herself in that inimitable way she has.
“You’re not sorry?” I ask the question in restrained tones. If she had any sense of self-preservation she would take that statement back immediately. But given that she is being punished for a lack of that same quality, I am not hopeful she will recant.
And she does not.
“I’m sorry I made you upset,” she says. “But I’m not sorry I went and got Ethel. She should have been brought with us in the first place. Animals are people too!”
“I am not going to get into an argument about the relative worthiness of various life forms,” I tell her. “What I can say is that there is not a creature, human or not, on this planet, who matters as much to me as you do. Remember that.”
I slide her from my lap and leave her bent over the side of the bed. This punishment is going to be nothing short of apocalyptic. I want her to know that putting herself at risk in any way is completely unacceptable.
She tries to rise, perhaps to argue, but I am not going to let that happen. There are times to talk, and this is not one of them.
“Down,” I say firmly, pushing her back into place. “No more words. Only tears.”
“Holy shit,” I hear her mutter into the bedding.
A dark smile crosses my face, and I become aware of the fact that I am very much enjoying this. When I first realized she had rebelled I was so focused on the need to correct her that I did not acknowledge what a gift she had given me.
I make a show of taking off my belt. She is peeking behind her, even though she shouldn’t. I let her do it. I allow her to see mestanding over her with my expression severe, and my belt off, looped around my hand.
She whimpers and turns away, and I start lashing her until that pink skin turns bright red in thick stripes. Punishing Ella is one of the greatest joys of my life.
She starts to wriggle, of course. Staying still is not easy. The pain of the belt is working through her flesh, making her cringe and crawl away. She wants to escape, but she is not trying nearly as hard as she could. Some part of my sweet bride to be knows to stay, and to take each of the strokes I want to give to her.
I stop before I go too far. I need to check in. I need to see how she is, if she is able to take more.
I lean down over her, I press kisses to her neck and to her cheeks, and I taste the salt of her tears. She has been crying for me.
I smell the scent of her sex, too. She is absolutely aroused. If I were to run my fingers, or my cock, along her slit, she would be soaked. I know it. But I am not going to pleasure her pussy yet.
So far, all that has been done is the most simple acts. Effective, but not enough for her.
