An Unacceptable Arrangement

An Unacceptable
Arrangement

An Unconventional Marriages
Story

By

Victoria Winters

Copyright 2014 by Blushing
Books and Victoria Winters

Published by Blushing Books
at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal
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Published by Blushing Books®,

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Winters, Victoria

An Unacceptable Arrangement

eBook ISBN:
978-1-62750-3808

Cover Design by edhgraphics.blogspot.com

This book is intended for
adults
only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this
book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book
should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating
any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Blushing Books

Deep in the
countryside of England, a monumental estate stood on 14,000 acres
of land. It was a five-mile ride from the town of Hampton, just
north of London. This ancient ancestral home housed the current
Duke and Duchess Newblythe and their five offspring; Hayden at age
twenty-two was the oldest and the heir, Cassandra, nearly nineteen,
Reginald, the twelve-year-old spare heir, and the two youngest
girls, Emily, age six, and four-year-old Violet.

After lunch on a lovely day in April in the
year of our Lord 1871, Arthur and Eveline Newblythe, called their
eldest daughter Cassandra to her father’s study. There she found
her parents smiling with pride at their lovely daughter. She smiled
back, certain that they were going to congratulate her on how well
her coming out ball of the night before had gone.

Instead her father announced that she had
been promised in marriage to a German Baron and would be wed the
following day. Cassandra froze in place, her mouth hanging open,
certain that her father was jesting and waited for the punch
line.

After several moments of silence, her mother
nervously began to speak. “We are decorating the chapel darling,
and planning a lovely luncheon afterwards. Won’t that be nice?” She
shot a nervous glance at her husband and looked back at Cassandra
meaningfully. Cassandra knew that look; it was a signal from mother
to daughter not to say or do anything to set her father off. His
temper was legendary.

“Chapel. You mean the family chapel through
the grove?” Cassandra asked slowly, biting off each word as if she
could hardly believe she was saying it. Cassandra had inherited her
father’s sensible nature and was not at all amused by this
ridiculous plan.

“Yes dear, and cook is making a wedding cake
right now. The staff is polishing the silver; tables are being set
up in the dining hall. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Her mother began
wringing her hands, unnerved by the growing tension in the room.
Both father and daughter were beginning to bristle and she prayed
there would not be a showdown.

Cassandra grew silent. She looked at both of
her parents' faces. Surely this was in jest. Her father awaited her
response. When none was forthcoming, he shrugged and sat at his
desk, returning to his ledgers. Cassandra glared at him; clearly
this announcement meant no more to him than if he’d just announced
that it was going to rain.

“Come along dear,” her mother continued
soothingly. “We have a dress for you to try on. Madeline is waiting
to fit you.” She gave her daughter her most winning smile.

Finally Cassandra found her voice, “But, but,
I don’t understand. Do I know this man? Have we ever even met? What
does he want with me? Why are you going along with this?” Cassandra
began to panic as she moved in closer to confront her parents.
Arranged marriages were so old fashioned, one did not hear of them
much anymore and even when they did occur, the participants were
betrothed for some time in advance. Daughters weren’t just given
away to complete strangers, were they?

“Control yourself, child,” her father
huffed.  “This is a very good marriage for you.  He is a
Baron with a large estate. I have spent a great deal of time
carefully arranging this union. You will wed on the morrow. Now, go
with your mother.”

“An estate - in Germany! Who cares?”
Cassandra raised her voice, as she realized that her father was
serious. “Father, did you not hear that the ball last night was a
huge success? I had scores of fellows – viscounts, earls and dukes,
even princes – vying for a dance. I was the envy of every girl
there. Why would you throw that all away and banish me to a foreign
country forever?

“I don’t care if you danced with the Prince
of Wales himself; you will wed Baron Frederic Von Dresden tomorrow
at noon,” he replied, his eyes flashing in anger. Cassandra was
being impudent. She would marry a chimney sweep if he so decreed
it. The girl clearly needed a lesson in obedience.

“At lunch? You are giving me away in the
family chapel at lunch tomorrow? To a stranger I have never laid
eyes on?” Her voice became shrill in her mounting panic, her rage
beginning to build. She desperately tried to check her rising
anger, which never got her anywhere and decided to try a softer
approach.

“Papa, since I was a little girl, mother has
spoken of my wedding day, of how I would be wed at St. Paul’s
Cathedral to a high ranking member of the nobility. She said that
there would be hundreds of guests in attendance and a formal ball
afterwards.” Cassandra began to cry tears of frustration. “And now
you plan to give me away in the chapel over lunch to some random
fellow who happened to be walking by?”

“The Baron is hardly some random fellow!”
Arthur roared. “He...” He stopped cold, fearful that he had almost
said too much. “Go with your mother, girl!” he thundered. He
refused to engage in an argument with a little snit of a girl over
matters too important to leave to her whim. Oh, he could reassure
her that her groom was not a bad looking fellow who seemed quite
smitten with her and was, most importantly, one of the wealthiest,
most powerful men in Europe, but he had no intention of catering to
her emotions. She was his daughter and would obey him and that was
that.

Cassandra was not going to be bullied about
as her mother always was and she was not afraid to stand up to her
father. She’d inherited both her father’s red hair and his temper,
and now she felt that temper flare. She turned her back on her
parents, trying to calm herself, willing herself not to speak until
she could regain control. Her brain raced... what had it all been
for? The French finishing school, the expensive debutante wardrobe
she would never get to wear, the years of learning to curtsey and
simper and present herself as a well raised, proper daughter of the
nobility. All the attention to her appearance and comportment –
what had it all been for? To be given away sight unseen to the
highest bidder? She was being tossed out of the house like a bag of
droppings. Clearly her parents did not care about her happiness at
all. Her questions were the flashpoint igniting the fury she
felt.

She whirled around and began to yell. “I have
no intention of marrying some stranger and being exiled to Germany.
I will have the wedding and the life that I have been promised. I
will have my season and ultimately I will choose whom I marry. And
it won’t be to some stodgy, unpleasant old foreigner.” She declared
haughtily to her father, “If you want this union so badly sir, YOU
marry him!”

Her father glared back and slowly rose to his
feet. The look on his face was thunderous. Any girl with any sense
would have curtseyed at this point and backed slowly out of the
room, but Cassandra was past caring what her father thought. She
was beginning to hate him; he had robbed her of any chance for
happiness and ruined her life! She stood her ground, hands on her
hips and glared back at him, nose to nose, daring him... just
daring him... to speak.

The next thing she knew, Lady Cassandra
Newblythe lay bare bottomed over the raised arm of a chair in her
father’s study as he snapped a birch rod down on her writhing
cheeks. She hissed and mewed and waggled her bottom to and fro but
refused to cry out.

Her father stopped and wiped his sweaty brow
with his handkerchief. Cassandra had broken position in her
exhaustion and was lying over the arm of the chair unmoving. She
didn’t care if he spent the rest of the day whaling away on her
bottom though; she would not obey. She looked back at her father;
he was staring down in wonder at the state of her punished behind.
He looked into her face, seeking to gauge whether she’d had enough.
She caught his eye and slowly said, “You can birch me forever,
father. I am not marrying that man.”

Cassandra’s resolve faltered as she stole a
glance at her mother. Usually her mother looked away or even wept
when Cassandra was being chastised but this time mother stared at
her, looking as unmoving and determined as father. For the first
time, Cassandra sensed she might be fighting a losing battle.

Her father lifted his arm and Cassandra
clenched her cheeks. She dropped her head and swayed her back,
lifting her bottom as if she were asking for punishment, then
relaxed her buttocks proving to him that she was not afraid to take
more. Only then did he strike - the hardest blow yet. It was agony
on her tenderized bottom. Still Cassandra held her tongue,
determined not to break. They were two very stubborn people.

He began to strike fast and furiously.
Usually he gave a count and struck slowly and methodically, drawing
the punishment out and making it last as long as possible, each
solitary stroke being etched into her disbelieving mind. But this
time there was no count. Cassandra lost track of the number of
times the rod had fallen. Bits of twigs were flying about as he
broke the rod on her scarlet cheeks. She heard someone cry out in
agony and then realized to her dismay that the voice she heard was
her own. He continued to strike rapidly, not giving her time to
gather her wits. Soon she was shrieking, and then screeching.

“Sir, please Sir! Please not so hard, Stop...
Papa... stop... Yeeowww, I can’t take it!” she heard herself beg.
She was babbling and kicking and then she didn’t have the strength
to do even that. She lay there unmoving as he continued to strike
until she reached a twilight place where she would have agreed to
anything, anything at all, to get that rod to stop falling.
Finally... finally she sobbed her submission.

Before she even realized the birching had
stopped, her mother helped her up and turned her against the wall
and she automatically held up her skirts. She knew better than to
rub and that this display would be required, that she show her red,
striped bottom to her chastiser and anyone else in the room who
cared to look upon it. She could not help shifting from foot to
foot though, moving her cheeks about trying desperately to cool
them. Normally she would be scolded for this and perhaps given a
swat as a reminder to settle down, but this birching had been so
severe that her parents seemed to be allowing her this departure
from the norm. She leaned her forehead against the wall and tried
to stop crying.

As Cassandra fought to regain composure, her
mind strayed to the previous night. She had been in her element. It
was the evening she’d been preparing for her entire life. Just that
day she had been presented at court and finally found herself at
the opening ball of the debut season. She was having the time of
her life and savoring every moment. The Season had begun, kicking
off months of festivities designed to bring all the young daughters
of the peerage who had reached their majority out to high society.
Cassandra was finally a part of the current marriageable crop.