An Unacceptable Arrangement (15 page)

Afterwards she was forced to stand facing the
wall holding up her skirts, her bright red bottom bare and shiny
from the attention of the strap, prominently on display. She felt
like a child at home again, a child who had been spanked by her
father. Her husband sat at his desk working away, indifferent to
her suffering. After awhile she heard a knock on the door and her
husband got up to answer it. She heard a male voice; it was Helmut
standing behind her talking to Frederic about a caller waiting in
the vestibule. She clenched her bottom, extremely humiliated to
have it on display to a servant - a male servant at that – the
shame! Helmut now knew for certain what her punishment had
consisted of. Would the entire staff hear all about it? Then she
heard a swishing of skirts as Liesl had entered the study and stood
there awaiting Frederic’s command.

“Madam is to hold position for another half
hour. Then you may dress her for tea,” he ordered. Cassandra leaned
her head against the wall. So this is how it would be, the servants
privy to her punishments, even helping to enforce them. She
glimpsed the future, in her thirties, forties and fifties - still
standing, exposing her well roasted rump to the servants - the
mistress of the house, being treated like a naughty little
girl.

A childhood memory came to her of standing
outside her mother’s room one day and hearing something until she’d
been shooed away by a passing servant. It had sounded like a
cracking sound and cries. Was her mother spanking one of her
brothers she had wondered? But her mother wasn’t the disciplinarian
in their family; it was father or the nanny. Now she realized, it
must have been her mother being punished by father. Did he make her
exhibit afterwards? Had her lady’s maid or the valet or butler ever
heard her mother being punished or seen the aftermath? Cassandra
wished she could ask her. She suddenly realized how much she missed
her mother.

Cassandra stood for tea that afternoon. Hers
was placed on the mantle as her husband dined at table. At first
she was chastened and ashamed, but her husband only smiled lovingly
at her and eventually she ended up on his lap, nuzzling his neck.
The wonderful thing about corrections was that afterwards one was
immediately forgiven and she herself held no grudge either. She had
found that being punished by her husband made her more pliable,
malleable, and entirely his. It was a comfort to know that her
husband would not let her excesses go without firm correction. He
would never allow her to become shrewish and unpleasant. She kissed
Frederic’s neck and his strong jaw and he reached up under her
skirts and gently patted her bare fanny lovingly. She sighed,
knowing that her husband’s lips would follow his hands once she was
put to bed with her bottom elevated on a pillow. She adored having
such an affectionate husband.

That night after dinner, Cassandra sat next
to her husband on the love seat as they listened to music in the
parlor.  When the music ended, she reached under the cushion
and produced the wrapped book. 

“What is this?” Frederic asked,
intrigued.

“It’s the reason I went out today. I wanted
to get you this book for our trip.” Frederic frowned at this.
“Don’t worry darling, I didn’t put it on account, I used my own
money.” Frederic opened the gift, the book was gorgeous, with had
pictures of various cemeteries and tales about some of the
illustrious people buried in them. Shakespeare’s grave even had a
statue of the famous bard himself.

Frederic swallowed hard. She had gone out to
buy him a gift and he’d disciplined her for it. But there was no
taking back what he’d done. She had to learn not to go out alone,
even if he appeared unreasonable by insisting upon it. It had
seemed unfair though and entirely unwarranted, she so rarely went
out – he could not normally find fault with her behavior. Cassandra
seemed committed to their marriage. She wasn’t out shopping all the
time and running up accounts around town, she didn’t retreat to her
family at every opportunity unlike other wives he had heard about.
The one time she did go out, it was to get him a gift. And most of
all, she didn’t resent him when he disciplined her. If anything it
brought them even closer. Yes, his new marriage was going very well
indeed. His wife was a bit temperamental and could be
hotheaded, but he enjoyed being the voice of calm and reason in the
relationship.

He held her closer and asked, “What else did
you do while you were out, beloved?” Cassandra was pleased that he
was asking about her day. She told him about running into her
mother’s friends and how they’d taken her out for tea.
 Cassandra smiled as she watched her husband again return to
the book, enjoying his gift. She truly loved him.

Prince Frederic put the book down and pulled
his princess on to his lap. “I truly love you, dear one,” he said,
voicing her thoughts back to her. I would never forgive myself if
something were to happen to you. Promise me, swear that you will
never leave the house without Wolfgang or me.”

“Yes my over-protective husband, I will never
again leave the house alone.” She giggled as her husband rose and
tossed her over his shoulder. He patted her sore fanny as he
carried her to his room promising to rub numbing cream into it. She
felt very loved indeed.

A week or two later Cassandra was surprised
by her husband returning home early from work on an ordinary
Tuesday afternoon. After exchanging pleasantries and a spot of
conversation, Frederic quickly found out that Cassandra had not
obeyed his order to send a message to her parents. He’d insisted
she’d do so, since the lack of communication between his wife and
her parents was starting to have a negative impact on his dealings
with Cassandra’s father. She thus found herself in her bedroom
being stripped naked by Liesl as her husband stood there watching.
She was quickly turned over Frederic’s lap and he proceeded to
busily dispense a very firm spanking to her plush posterior.

Cassandra wriggled and cried out as he
peppered her luscious cheeks with swats. He stopped and rubbed her
bottom for a few moments. Cassandra moaned but she did not say that
she would contact her family. Frederic wasn’t going to let her off
until she did. He began to resume her spanking, enjoying the
handprints showing up on her pale cheeks. He wanted to lie her down
and mount her and squeeze those cheeks until she came hard. He knew
that a little punishment was highly stimulating to his wife. Even
now, as he spanked away, he could see a goodly amount of cream
gathering in her little cunny.

“What a naughty girl you are,” he tsked,
scolding as he spanked. “A simple thing like sending a message, you
are unwilling or unable to do. Well, here is the result. I hope it
was worth it.”

“My Lord, please, please Sir, you are hurting
me!” she wailed. Frederic smiled. These were just love pats and her
dramatics were not going to get her off. He stopped spanking and
righted his wife until she was standing nude before him.

“Bring me your hairbrush, wife!” She knew
better than to argue at this point. Cassandra, kneading her aching
bottom, turned and walked to her vanity, crying crocodile tears all
the way. She hesitantly picked up the hairbrush and returned to her
husband’s side. It was wooden with a handle, the back made a
perfect paddle. She had never been spanked with it before.

“Now hold out the hairbrush and ask me to use
it on you.” Cassandra sniveled, was he jesting? Frederic grabbed
her upper arm and arranged her before him and then pulled down on
her arm until she was kneeling between his legs.

“I will repeat myself one more time,
Cassandra. Ask me to smack your little bottom with this hairbrush
until it is blistered. Say, ‘Please punish me my husband for I have
been very, very naughty.’ ”

Cassandra sniffed and looked into his eyes.
He wasn’t kidding; there was no humor there at all. He appeared to
be very angry as he took the hairbrush from her. A fresh flood of
tears came to her eyes as she began to speak, “Puh... please punish
me, sir. Please blister my... my bottom with this hairbrush.... for
my naughtiness,” she finished, her voice choking with shame.

“Very good. Now kiss the hairbrush that I
intend to use on your naughty behind.”

Cassandra leaned forward. Her husband was
holding the hairbrush down low, right in his lap. Cassandra
suddenly felt extremely submissive being naked before her fully
clothed husband, kneeling and bending to kiss the back of the
hairbrush he was going to use upon her. And if she knew her
husband, he would not dispense it in half measures. Her bottom was
in for a long unpleasant session over her husband’s lap.

She pressed her lips against the hairbrush
and then, unbidden, pressed them against his hand, the hand he
would use to paddle her. She looked up at him through the teardrops
on her eyelashes. She could see that her husband was stimulated by
all of this; there was definitely a gleam in his eye. Hope swelled
within her breast. Perhaps this punishment would not go on too
long, as his arousal was clearly becoming evident. To be honest,
Cassandra herself was quite excited by this show of submission to
her spouse.

He patted his lap, indicating that she was to
arrange herself upon it, complicit in her own downfall. She stood
and climbed over his lap very gingerly. She squirmed as she could
feel her husband’s erection poking into her tummy. She had an
overwhelming urge to take him in her mouth and suck on his manhood
for comfort. Before she could say so, though, she heard the
hairbrush descend. She squealed, the sound of the crack of the
hairbrush connecting with her bare cheeks was almost worse than the
feel of the actual swat. She groaned and wriggled anew, grasping
her husband’s leg, He was sitting on the edge of her bed and she
could barely reach the ground, his legs were too long.

He stopped paddling her for a moment. “Assume
the position, Cassandra. You know better. Up on your toes now, push
that bottom up for its just desserts.” She straightened her legs,
raising her bottom up off his lap. Could this punishment become any
more humiliating? She obediently shuffled her legs apart, knowing
that all was visible to her husband now. He could see right up
between her thighs to her very core. She was dripping wet and knew
her husband could see that too. She sent a silent curse to her
impudent body for betraying her by showing her husband how much
this excited her. What was wrong with her? Why was she so wanton?
She didn’t care. All she wanted was to be taken by her husband,
taken hard. She wanted to spend the rest of the day in her
husband’s arms loving and being loved by him.

Frederic brought the hairbrush down with
another loud crack. He enjoyed the thought that the servants could
hear him paddling his little wife. Soon they would hear much more
as he claimed her. He intended to make love to her for the rest of
the day and long into the night. He brought the hairbrush down a
dozen more times until his wife was truly in distress, sobbing and
squealing and then he gave a dozen more for good measure. He was so
excited he thought he was going to come in his pants. He couldn’t
even remember why he was punishing her at this point. He was
enjoying her groans and her moans and the gyrations of her fleshy
little buttocks as he whaled away upon them.

Finally the hairbrush fell to the floor and
Frederic pulled his wife up to a standing position. This put her
coral nipples right at the level of his face. He sucked a breast
into his mouth and squeezed her buttocks as he suckled at her. She
groaned and held on to his shoulders, her knees threatening to give
out, but still he continued. He nibbled on one tender nipple until
she whimpered and then switched his attention to the other. He
suckled away until she again began to whimper. He pulled her breast
out of his mouth with a pop.

“Do you wish me to stop, beloved?” he asked
with an evil grin, dredging up all the sarcasm he could muster.

“God, no” his wife breathed. “Take me
Frederic, take me hard. Please, don’t stop... please...”

She squealed as he stood and picked her up
and then tossed her down on the bed. He stripped his clothes off
quickly, his pupils dilating as his wife touched herself, right in
between her legs and began to move against her own hand! It was the
most stimulating thing he’d ever seen.

“Put your fingers up inside yourself,
Cassandra. Do it!” he ordered, frozen in place watching as his wife
obeyed. She spread her legs as widely as possible and began to
impale herself on her own fingers.

Frederic - now unclothed - growled as he
climbed in between those thighs. He leaned forward and watched
avidly as his wife’s fingers busily played with herself,
alternating stroking her clit with slipping them up inside of
herself. He spread her nether lips for a better look and then, as
she removed her fingers, he replaced them with his own. He pumped
inside his wife as she played with her own clit until she stiffened
and screamed out her pleasure. It was a glorious sight!

The scent of her arousal was like an
aphrodisiac to him and he quickly flipped her over, taking her from
behind. He knew his wife; she loved nothing better than to be
impaled as her spasms of pleasure were still upon her. This seemed
to heighten her excitement and she would scream his name
repeatedly, to his great delight. He pulled her red cheeks up
against him over and over, slapping them against his pelvis,
squeezing and pinching them as she bucked and squealed and pushed
back hard against him. This time they took their pleasure together,
their cries shaking the very rafters.

When they came to, the sun was beginning to
set. They were awakened by a knock at the door and a voice calling
to them. It was one of the kitchen staff letting them know that a
tea tray had been set in the outer room. They began to laugh as
they disentangled themselves. Frederic kissed his wife on the tip
of her nose and climbed out of bed, retrieving robes for both of
them. Cassandra giggled; her husband was wearing one of her robes
and it fell to mid-thigh on him. He broke into a silly little jig
for her amusement and she laughed even harder. He helped her out of
bed and into her robe and they stumbled to the outer room where the
tea tray was waiting. They were both famished and Cook must have
somehow known that for she’d sent up quite an elaborate spread.
There was sliced veal and tongue and an arrangement of cheeses and
pickles and, of course, an assortment of the usual sandwiches,
cakes and cookies. They fed one other, sucking on each other’s
fingers sensuously and drank the entire contents of the teapot, the
Earl Grey tea heavily laced with Devonshire cream.