Claiming His Wife Page 29

  The frantic sound of her voice and her writhing movements had Alex's cock rubbing against her side as she tried to dislodge the ginger root. He could see her bottom working to push it out, making her cry out as it burned even more.

  "Just relax, it will burn less the more you relax," he said, making sure that he had a firm hold on his wife and her wrists as he raised his hand. With that advice, he brought his hand down firmly on her backside, careful to catch her full on the cheek without jostling the ginger.

  Grace cried out as he began peppering her bottom, going back and forth between the cheeks, making it impossible for her to relax. The ginger was going to work on her insides, her bottom feeling strange with something inside of it, especially something that was burning her sensitive innards! She howled, begged, and pleaded, twisting as Alex spanked her.

  Surprisingly, the spanking seemed to help with the ginger, making her burn on the outside and distracting her from the growing furnace between her cheeks. Her legs kicked, churning, as she tried to escape the twin fires, but Alex had an iron grip on her, and his hand just kept coming down with firm, stinging swats. The juices of the ginger were leaking down to her pussy, making it swell and tingle, her natural juices flowing from the combination of the ginger and Alex's domination over her.

  No matter how hard he spanked her, she was always aroused at the end of it... but this felt so much more intense. Maybe because her rear aperture was filled, but her pussy wasn't. That didn't stop it from hurting though. Alex spanked her until her bottom was throbbing, feeling just as swollen and hot as her pussy, but for an entirely different reason.

  Tears were leaking down her face and onto the floor as she cried out, reduced to incoherent cries and sobs. It hurt, and she was already promising herself inside of her head that she wasn't going to do anything even remotely dangerous for the rest of her pregnancy. She'd almost prefer a strapping over that infernal ginger that burned even hotter every time she clenched around it.

  Finishing the spanking with five swats to Grace's sit spots, Alex thought his cock was going to burst. Her bottom was a bright flaming red, and yet even when the spanking stopped she couldn't keep from writhing. The ginger was burning her from the inside out. The effects on her pussy were incredibly arousing, he could see the plump, dark pink lips between her slightly parted legs, ready and waiting for him.

  It took him less than a minute to pull his cock from his breeches - he'd already undone them while Grace had disrobed - and pull her up so that she was facing him, straddling his lap. Both of her hands were still behind her back, he held her wrists tightly, which thrust her breasts at him, tempting him with her cherry nipples.

  "Wait!" Grace cried out, trying to pull away, her thighs already burning from the effort of not sinking down on top of him. Her knees were bent, but he wouldn't allowed her to straighten completely, and she refused to lower herself. "Take out the ginger."

  "No."

  The denial was swift and firm, and then he leaned forward to take her nipple between his teeth, using his leverage to push her down onto his cock. Grace's head fell back and she cried out as gravity forced her down onto him, his thick length sliding in easily thanks to her ample lubrication. His free hand squeezed her bottom, fingers seeking out the ginger.

  The sharp stinging pain wrapped around her pleasure, enhancing it, as she was forced to ride him. Her nipples were tortured by his lips and teeth, her pussy filled and pleasured by his cock, the ginger in her ass pumped back and forth even as he squeezed her burning bottom cheeks. The strange feeling of two things sliding in and out of her, both of them burning in different ways, had her shuddering and sobbing with the overwhelming mix of sensations.

  Even though she was on top, Alex controlled her every movement, taking her hard and deep, fucking her ass with the ginger, and sending her into a maelstrom of intense rapture. She screamed his name as she came, feeling him join her only moments later, filling her with his seed.

  Hazy warmth enveloped her, soothing her aches, caressing her body, and she floated in a sea of comfort. The only sound that pierced that cottony enclosure of happiness was the soft, deep, beloved murmur, whispering the same thing over and over again.

  "Sleep now, sweetheart... I love you, Gracie."

  ******

  Looking over her shoulder one too many times proved to be her doom. Cynthia's horse balked at a fallen tree trunk across the path. She almost cursed too, but the sudden memory of soap flickered across her taste buds and she immediately bit her tongue. That was all Wesley needed to catch up to her though, he knew the Manse's woods much better than she did. It had only been a matter of time, but truthfully she'd been enjoying the chase and had hoped to keep it going a bit longer.

  "Get off the horse."

  Cynthia tossed her head, looking a bit like a fractious mare herself. "Or what?"

  The white gleaming smile that flashed in the shade of the trees was not encouraging. "Or instead of punishing you, I'll drag you back to the house, tie you to our bed, and leave you there for the rest of the afternoon."

  She only hesitated for a moment. Then she got off the horse.

  "Good girl," Wesley murmured, dismounting as well, now that his wife had both feet firmly planted on the ground. She scowled at him, but he could see through her. Cynthia needed the excitement, the pain and the pleasure, as much as he did. She craved it. But only if she felt like she really earned it. Bedroom games occupied them the rest of the time, but every few weeks she needed to misbehave in a way to earn herself a truly rigorous punishment.

  Which Wesley was always happy to provide.

  She got a regular spanking at least twice a week, but eventually she always needed more. Yet, when the time came, she fought against her punishment, tried to talk or seduce him out of giving it to her, and he knew that if she ever succeeded she would be incredibly disappointed. The fight was part of the thrill for her, almost as if she craved being forced to his will. The idea that he might take her back to the Manse and leave her restrained, without any kind of gratification, was probably horrifying to her.

  It was certainly a punishment that he planned on using sometime, when she had truly earned it. The withholding of pleasure. Except that he wouldn't just leave her there... no, he'd tease and torment her body until she was begging him for release. Today's silliness didn't amount to such a punishment though.

  "Pick a switch."

  "What?"

  Wesley gestured to the tree beside him. "Pick a switch."

  As he gathered the reins of both horses and began to lead them to a different nearby tree to tie them to, Cynthia gaped at him. "You want me to pick my own switch?"

  "Better hurry or I'll do it for you."

  Excitement and apprehension tingled through her at the dark look that went with his threat. She might never understand why she became so aroused at being punished by her husband, but did it really matter why? There was something wrong with her, she knew that, but it made both of them happy. The idea of being switched... it made her tingle even as it terrified her.

  The tree he'd indicated had plenty of thin, whippy branches. Biting her lower lip, Cynthia found one that wasn't too thick, but wasn't too thin. She tried to break it off at the base, but the limb was strong. A second later, heat pressed against her backside as Wesley's arms came around her and he used a knife to cut the slender branch.

  "Good girl," he murmured in her ear. "Now go bend over the tree and lift up your skirt."

  Cynthia hurried to the fallen tree trunk, already anxious to get the bad part of being punished over with. Watching her, Wesley smiled darkly as he began to trim the branch, peeling off the bark, while her bare bottom began to squirm as she waited. He was careful to make sure the switch was smooth, so that there would be no chance of splinters.

  At least she'd learned her lesson about waiting. He did love to keep her anxious, never knowing how long he was going to take before he began the punishment. One time, he'd added five minutes to the wait every time she spok
e. After that, she'd never tried to hurry him along again.

  Bending the limber switch into a loop, holding both ends, he approached her from behind. For a long moment he just admired his target, smoothing his hand over her creamy bottom and tapping it lightly. She moaned a little, sounding both scared and excited. When he slid his fingers through her pussy lips, they came away wet. Wesley licked her cream from his fingers before stepping back.

  "Hold still," he warned her.

  SWISH! SNAP!

  The shrill cry echoed around them as Cynthia's body jerked. The loop he'd made out of the switch had caught her simultaneously on the bottom and the top of her curved cheeks. She pressed herself hard against the tree, her body instinctively trying to get away from the painful, stinging implement.

  SWISH! SNAP!

  Fortunately there was a branch on the other side of the fallen tree that she could grab onto, holding onto it for dear life to keep herself from reaching behind and trying to cover her bottom. If she risked her hands in such an endeavor, Wesley would be furious. He loved her cries of pain, but only when it pertained to torment that he was purposefully inflicting.

  SWISH! SNAP!

  The thin red lines on Cynthia's bottom, combined with her mournful cries, were making Wesley's cock throb with need. Fuck she was gorgeous like this, bent over and vulnerable, taking the punishment that they both knew she deserved, that she craved even as she cried out in pain. Every time a blow landed, her pussy clenched.

  The thin welts burned, stinging at her skin like angry bees, drawing sobs and tears from her, despite the dark need that welled inside of her. Wesley was careful not to overlap the lines too much, taking his time to ensure that he didn't draw blood as he laid a delicate tracery of welts across her bottom. They almost looked like lace, as they crossed each other.

  When he finally stopped, Cynthia's legs were trembling and almost her entire weight was being supported by the fallen tree. She was lost in a haze of sensual need and erotic pain, and she had no idea how much time had passed before he was suddenly pushing into her pussy. Moaning, she wanted to lift her hips to meet him, but her legs were too weak. It burned when his body pressed against her body, shoving her hard against the tree. Her skirts protected her tender skin from being scraped by the bark, but there was nothing to protect her welted bottom from the rasping of Wesley's body against it.

  She cried out, shuddering in ecstasy as he pumped his hips, fucking her hard and fast. Since their wedding night, Wesley had taken her in all manner of different positions, but this was one of her favorite. Bent over and taken from behind, feeling his cock sliding inside of her, over the sweet spot, as his hands dug into her hips. Somehow she felt his domination even more like this than when she was tied face-up to the bed.

  Pulling out, his cock covered in her juices, Wesley pressed his cock against the tight rosebud of her anus.

  "Oh no, please!"

  Cynthia's face heated as her rear channel opened for him. It hurt as her muscles stretched. He didn't take her back there often enough for her to truly become accustomed to it, enjoying the struggle every time he did. So she also never really quite got used to the shame of enjoying such a perverse act. Deep down, she knew she loved it, but that just made her blush more furiously, protest more adamantly. If Wesley ever stopped taking her in this manner, she would miss it, but she couldn't admit that, not even to herself.

  "Ow, ow, ow," she muttered as he pushed deeper, not heeding her plea. It took her breath away every time he sank into her ass for the first stroke, making her feel so full, like there wasn't room in her body for air. "I wasn't that bad... it was just a race!"

  "Which was whose idea?" Wesley asked, holding her hips tightly as he watched her crinkled anus stretching around his cock, all of the little wrinkles smoothing out to accommodate his girth. Her silence confirmed his supposition. "So not only did you get your friends into trouble, but then you ran from me." His voice lowered, growing gruffer as his cock was engulfed fully into her ass. Holding still for a moment, feeling the spasms of her tight sheathe around him, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I think you deserve a little bad girl sex, don't you?"

  She moaned, half in denial, half in pleasure, as he began to drag his cock back out of her body. Clinging to the branch on the other side of the trunk, she suddenly realized that this might be why she liked this position so much. Because whenever he took her from behind, she wasn't just out of control, she was completely vulnerable to him. He could play with her anus all he wanted and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

  Her pussy dripped as he began to fuck her ass, hard enough to make her squeal and yelp, the burning friction fighting with her rising pleasure. Every slap of his body against her bottom made her cheeks jiggle, the stinging welts feeling like they were flaming brands tracing her skin.

  The overwhelming sensations were making her toes curl as a rising tide of ecstasy began to overtake the effects of her punishment. Her ass clenched and spasmed as his cock slid over that sweet spot from the other side, making her gasp and cry out, writhing before him as he impaled her over and over again. Cynthia's sobbing breaths were interspersed with Wesley's grunts as he ravished her aching bottom, skillfully pulling her from stinging pain to abject pleasure.

  Their combined shouts of climax echoed through the woods around them. Cynthia clawed at the fallen tree as she came, her tight ass milking Wesley's cock, sucking his hot jets of cream deep into her body.

  When they returned to the Manse, it was on foot, leading their hoses by hand, in deference to Cynthia's painful rear. They walked between the horses, holding hands all the way.

  ******

  "Out," Edwin ordered as he handed over the horses. "Take them for a long walk to cool down," he said to the young groom who took the reins. The rest of the stable staff had already scattered at his command.

  Shifting back and forth on nervous feet, Eleanor tucked her hands into her skirt, anxiously fisting the fabric as she waited for his attention to come back to her. It returned after the door to the stables were closed, his dark, furious gaze making her tremble a bit. But this was what she wanted... his attention. His discipline. His recognition that she was able to act as his wife again. That she wanted to. Needed to.

  "What were you thinking?" His question cut through the air, sharp and heavy with frustration.

  Eleanor tilted her chin up, knowing that her stubborn pose never failed to needle him. "I was thinking that I deserved to have some fun."

  "Fun? Fun? You think risking your health and safety is fun?" He advanced on her, his jaw clenched, eyes glittering with anger. It was rather sweet how protective he was of her, or it would be if it wasn't so damned frustrating as well. Hiding her smile, she rolled her eyes instead. Baiting the boar.

  "My health is fine - as I've told you - and I was perfectly safe. I'm a very good rider and I know these lands like the back of my hand."

  For a moment his jaw worked soundlessly, as if he was trying to get out an argument but was having trouble thinking of one. Stopping his advancement about a foot away from her, she could practically see the thoughts churning in his head. Holding her breath, she prayed that he would come to the right conclusion. If he didn't, she wouldn’t be liable for what she did next. Kicking him would be the least of it.

  "Your health is fine." The flat statement didn't sound at all like a question, but she answered anyway.

  "Yes."

  "You think you're fully recovered."

  "Yes." The defiance in her voice rang with challenge.

  Edwin's cock was hard as a rock as he struggled to keep his emotions on an even keel. The flashing rebellion in his wife's bright blue eyes, her saucily tilted chin, her prodding, was all designed to make him lose control and he knew it.

  "Then let's test that. Strip."

  His voice was hard, demanding, but he couldn't fail to see the excitement flare on her face at the command. Clenching his fists, he thought swiftly through his options. Part of him still
worried that he was going to accidentally harm her, so he would need to be careful and not allow her to divest him of all his self-control. Another part of him recognized that she must truly feel ready, since she was willing to take a punishment in order to receive his love-making as well.

  As she stripped, he grabbed a horse blanket - a clean one - and tossed it over the hay, which had been stacked in the corner of the stable. The horse blanket would keep her from harming her tender skin, but it wouldn't be too comfortable either. Which was part of the punishment, of course. He wasn't going to let her take this too far.

  To his surprise, she didn't even wait for his command. His gloriously nude wife swanned past him, without even the hint of a blush and bent over the hay bales, positioning herself in the center of the blanket. The creamy cheeks of her bottom beckoned to him, and between her legs he could see her glistening, pouting pink lips, framed by her damp curls. Edwin bit back a groan as his cock throbbed.

  He hoped she truly was recovered, otherwise this was liable to kill him.

  Tossing her blonde curls, Eleanor peeked over her shoulder at him, her seductive gaze tinged with an anxiousness that tempted him more than any mere seduction could. His palm itched.

  SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

  It wasn't the hardest spanking Eleanor had ever received, nor was it the most erotic. The blows were caught somewhere between punishment and pleasure, as if Edwin couldn't quite decide what he wanted to do with her. She wriggled and moaned, occasionally crying out when he caught a particularly sensitive spot. The slow burn was building with every sharp smack, making her wag her bottom up and down.

  The horse blanket rubbed against her breasts, which were so much more sensitive since she'd given birth. Eleanor had decided she wanted to use her own milk for her son, despite social conventions, and Edwin and his parents had supported her, even though her mother had tried to talk her out of it. Right now, even though Marcus had fed recently and she had no more milk at the moment, her breasts felt tightly swollen and heavy as they rubbed against the blanket. Her sensitive nipples were like cherries about to burst, abraded by the rough material in the most delicious way.