Birching His Bride (Domestic Discipline 1) (12 page)

Edwin rode her hard, knowing that he wouldn't
last long under the circumstances - he never did when he had just woken, which
was why he'd pleasured Eleanor with his fingers first. He could feel his wife
shuddering in continuous climax around him, her body in constant motion beneath
his as she clung to his neck and sobbed his name.  The passionate whimpers
and groans that fell from her lips only spurred him to a faster, harder pace,
the walls of her sheath sucking at him as she tightened and spasmed over and
over again.

He groaned her name as he filled her to the
brim, the dark hairs of his groin melding with her honey gold curls as the
swollen folds of her sex were crushed against his body.  Inside of her he
pulsed, his body rubbing up and down so that she continued to squeeze and
massage his cock throughout his release; his body slowly relaxing atop of hers
as spurt after spurt of hot fluid gushed into her tunnel.

With a sigh of satisfaction he kissed the
sides of Eleanor's neck, feathering them along her jaw and cheeks until he
reached her lips.  She kissed him back so sweetly that he thought he might
melt on top of her. They cuddled in the afterglow, for the first time truly
relaxed.  Although he'd enjoyed their relations at home he'd always felt a
bit rushed about the aftermath, knowing that he needed his sleep so that he
could be up early the next morning to continue setting his affairs in order for
their trip.  Now they had all the time in the world for him to caress and
kiss her, to bask in the warm afterglow.

For Eleanor this was absolute bliss. 
The way Edwin was looking at her made her feel cherished, something which she'd
never experienced before.  Her parents had loved her, of course, as had
her brother, but nothing compared to this.  Edwin was touching her as if
she was made of glass, his eyes filled with a soft wonderment that made her
feel like the most special, wonderful person in the world.

In that moment Eleanor decided that perhaps
she should stop fighting him.  Despite the punishments Edwin had treated
her very well - and she certainly had deserved some kind of retribution for the
trick she'd pulled on him at the dinner party.  It was not the marriage
she would have chosen, but he didn't seem to expect her to jump at his command,
unlike her father and mother.  Nor did he worship at her feet, the way she
might have wanted him to, but perhaps this new adoration that she saw in his
eyes... could that be enough?  They had plenty in common, they knew each
other well and they had passion.  Perhaps she should just make the best of
the situation.

"Would you like an escort to the
deck?" Edwin asked, smiling down at her in a rakish manner that seemed to
imply he'd be more than willing to keep her right where she was. In that moment
she made her decision; they were on their honeymoon and she was going to give
them a chance. They should rub along together well enough if she stopped
instigating trouble.

"I would please," she said, as
demurely as she could considering that her husband was still inside of her.
Reaching up she brushed a dark lock of hair from his forehead, and saw the
pleased look in his eyes as she made the first small gesture of affection to
him that she had since their wedding.

********

Paris was glorious.  The dresses, the
freedom, the art, the people... Eleanor enjoyed the lighter restrictions on
behavior.  She and Edwin were able to sit at a private table for two even
in a public restaurant, she could laugh as loudly and freely as she wanted
without anyone staring, and the dresses the other women were wearing made hers
look positively conservative.  Not that she ever wore one without the
fichu, but she could tease Edwin about buying a "real" French dress
and enjoy listening to him growl possessively.

A kind of fond camaraderie grew between them
as they walked the streets, watched the entertainments, attended the theater,
and flirted at parties.  Other women watched jealously as Edwin danced
attendance upon his wife; Eleanor was not slow in noting that more than one of
them tried to tempt him from her side. At first she’d been shocked by her
reaction – a blinding possessive jealousy that had rendered her nearly
speechless as Edwin had smiled benignly at the glittering beauty and pretended
not to know her meaning, keeping Eleanor’s hand pressed tight against his
forearm with his own hand. 

“You are so attentive to your wife,” the lady
purred, managing to both glare at Eleanor and bat her eyes at Edwin.  “The men
here… they are not so devoted as you.” The way she said it seemed to imply that
Edwin’s devotion only went so far as Eleanor’s gaze. She gritted her teeth and
opened her mouth, but Edwin gave her wrist a small pinch and she closed her
lips as he answered the hussy.

“Perhaps they are not so lucky as to have a
wife such as mine,” he said smoothly.  The lady frowned and blinked.  The words
themselves were almost an insult, and yet there was nothing about Edwin’s
manner or tone that implied it was so.  Eleanor nearly laughed at the other
woman’s consternation, even as a warmth filled her.  She looked up at Edwin
just as he was looking down at her and their gazes caught and held.  All the
jealous bile seemed to drain out of her as she basked in the glow of her
husband’s attention.

The French lady muttered something under her
breath about newlyweds and love and stalked away.

At first she’d worried over her reaction, and
then she decided that it was only natural.  Certainly it wasn’t love. After
all, she had decided to make the best out of her marriage with Edwin, it was
understandable that she would have a feeling of possessiveness about him now
that she had accepted him as her husband.  Besides it was a point of pride with
her, proof of her desirability, to keep him from straying. Especially
considering that they were on their honeymoon.  The brazenness of the women was
almost insulting to her.

However, possibly the most shocking
revelation was when men flirted with her in Edwin’s presence.  Not only did she
find herself unattracted to any of them, despite the fact that many of them
were quite handsome, but Edwin’s demeanor changed drastically as he went from
simply standing next to her to somehow actually
looming
beside her and
radiating an unwelcoming coldness to the gentlemen.  There was a dangerous air
to him when she was first approached by any unknown gentleman, usually almost
immediately followed by a return to their hotel – and once with a passionate
tryst in their hosts’ conservatory.  The closest Eleanor had come to such
illicit behavior had been receiving a kiss at her come-out ball, certainly not
the kind of heart-pounding amorousness combined with the edge of anxiety that
came from engaging in intimacies in such a public avenue.

For himself, Edwin was pleased to watch
Eleanor blossom, although he could have done without other men noticing her
golden beauty and the sweet joy she took in life.  She attracted men like honey
attracted flies, and yet now that she wasn’t trying to attract attention she
seemed entirely unaware of her conquests.  The other women in the room didn’t
hold a candle to her and they seemed to know it; although it didn’t stop them
from trying to compete with her for his attention.  Not one of them appealed to
him as much as Eleanor; they didn’t have the complexities of her character or
the inner, unjaded innocence that she exuded.  Back in London he’d worried that
she’d lost that inner light, but away from her family and acquaintances,
seeming to have accepted their relationship, it was shining brightly again.  He
never wanted to see her grow hard and cynical like her friend Lady Grace and
the Eleanor that he was seeing now in Paris didn’t seem in any danger of doing
so.  It was almost like she was a completely different person; an adult version
of the Eleanor he’d known as a child, no longer the hardened socialite with a
mission.

One afternoon Eleanor went shopping while
Edwin entertained himself at one of the gentleman’s clubs.  He’d given her a
budget this time of course, but had issued no commands or warnings about the
kind of purchases he’d like her to make, which she greatly appreciated.  It
seemed that he trusted her now, after the past two weeks in each other’s
company, and she found that she relished having his confidence. Now that she
was no longer fighting it marriage to Edwin had become quite… enjoyable. Her
decision to become an amiable wife seemed justified.  Now that they’d had some
time together, he seemed inclined to let her do as she wished.

After selecting three gowns that were daring
but elegant, quite fashion forward and she was certain would be all the rage in
London, Eleanor found herself being distracted by the modiste who, upon
discovering that Eleanor was newly-wed, insisted on showing her some
nightgowns. At first Eleanor had resisted, although she hadn’t wanted to
explain that her husband preferred that she wear nothing at all to bed, but
then the modiste seemed to realize what Eleanor was implying.

“
Non, non
,” the woman said, laughing
gaily as she waved away Eleanor’s vague explanations. “These will not be for
sleeping
. 
Trust me,
cherie
, your husband will appreciate
these
nightgowns.”

When Eleanor glimpsed the fabric of the gowns
she understood. Some were silky, some were sheer, others had lace appliques in
strategic positions… her favorite was a silky gown of palest pink that caressed
her skin as it was slipped over her head.  The fabric clung like a second skin,
the skirt swirling around her legs as she moved before settling back around her
curves.  The paleness of the color made her skin creamier, her hair more
golden, and emphasized the natural pink of her lips.

Staring at herself in the mirror, recognizing
the kind of temptation that this sweetly, innocently seductive gown would have
on Edwin, Eleanor ran her hands down her sides. She felt like a completely
sensual creature in this gown; the silk caressed her sides as well as her
hands, and she immediately wondered what Edwin’s reaction would be to touching
her through this kind of silk.

“I’ll take it.”

“Bon! Very good, I thought so,” said Madame,
smiling cheerfully. “Try another, yes?”

Eleanor agreed immediately. In the end she
bought three negligees, as Madame called them. Remembering Edwin’s reaction to
the red dress at home, how he’d wanted her to wear it only for him, she thought
that he wouldn’t mind the purchase.  She got the silk pink one, of course, and
another sweetly innocent one made of white with inserts of chiffon in the skirt
so that as she walked and the skirt flared her bare legs flashed teasingly. 
The third one was made of a completely sheer dark violet fabric with clever
lace appliques over the breasts and in a band around her hips.  While she
wasn’t certain whether or not she would have the courage to wear such a daring
garment, even with Edwin as the only audience, she couldn’t resist. 

She was able to take the nightgowns home with
her, with the rest of the dresses to be delivered to the hotel the day after
tomorrow. Happily humming a popular waltz to herself, Eleanor practically
danced out of the shop on feet that felt lighter than air.

******

That night when Edwin came into the bedroom
Eleanor was there, pretending to a calm that she didn’t feel.  This was the
first time that she would truly be initiating intimacies between them; although
of course she had teased and flirted with him often enough and occasionally
kissed him since they’d begun their honeymoon, she had never done so in their
bedroom. Tonight, however, she knew that she was waving a red flag in front of
a bull with her attire.

In the soft flickering light of the fire and
the candelabra by their bed her skin almost seemed to glow next to the
iridescent sheen of the pink silk. 

Edwin strolled in with his usual air of eagerness,
his fingers already busily untying his cravat, as he threw a smile full of
sinful promise her way.  His head turned away for a mere moment before snapping
back in a most satisfying manner, arrested by the sight of her standing next to
the bed in her new nightrail , her fingers already gently resting on top of
it.  Frozen, he stared at her, greedily drinking in the sight, committing it to
memory.

The eagerness with which he always approached
their bedtime was overrun by a burning need to claim, to possess.  The
trepidation on Eleanor’s beautiful face gave way to thrilled triumph, her body
slowly shifting from a rather anxious stance to a sensual languor that only
increased his ardor. 

“Eleanor…” he rasped, his voice feeling tight
in his throat, the air in his lungs burning. “What on earth are you wearing?”

“Do you like it?” she asked, slowly twirling
as she lifted up her arms, the silk shifting and sliding over the soft curves
of her body.  A small smile lifted her lips when she heard her husband groan as
he was treated to a spectacular view of the way it hugged her backside.

She let out a squeal as she found herself
lifted; Edwin had rushed her from behind, overcome by the need to touch her. 
Tossed onto the bed, she twisted around to see her husband practically tearing
off his clothing in his hurry to join her.  Anticipation sparkling in her clear
blue eyes, she lounged backwards, enjoying the effect every movement she made
had on him. The ever suave former rake was struggling with his clothing, unable
to tear his eyes away from her as he continued to disrobe, revealing the hard
planes of his body that so many women in Paris desired to see and touch.