Chapter Seventeen of Priestess by Rue Raven

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Chapter 17 – Legal Necessities
Sabbath eve. And loyal subjects everywhere were preparing to comply with the new law.

* * * * * * *

“Should I pull my panties down first, or do you do it after I’m over your knee?”

“I’m not sure, dear, he wasn’t very clear on that.”

“How about if I pull them down this week, and you do it next week?”

“You always know best, dear.”

“Now, don’t forget to spank me good and hard.”

“Yes dear.”

* * * * * * *

“I didn’t mean to overspend, honest! But there was a sale and we really did need a new donkey….”

“You’ll need a new ass by the time I’m finished spanking you! Over my knee!”

“But I – OW!”

* * * * * * *

Harriel was a strong woman. Everyone said so – they all said what a strong, upstanding, resolute woman she was. To her face. Behind her back they said she was stubborn and demanding and downright insensitive.

Latto watched his wife warily. This new law was going to make his life a misery. “Perhaps we could – there are exemptions, we could get the healer to give you a certificate on medical grounds…” Was being arrogant and self-centred a medical condition? He’d need an exemption himself soon, his heart wouldn’t take the stress much longer.

“And have people say I couldn’t face a few taps on my rear? Never! We’ll do it right now and get it over with. Now sit down and get ready.”

This was beginning to sound uncomfortably like their wedding night. Ten years ago she’d taken the lead in their relationship, and he’d been obeying orders ever since. Latto sat on the chair she indicated, then whimpered miserably as his wife’s well-padded rump filled his gaze.

“Now, raise my skirts, and lower my undergarments. Come on, we don’t have all night!”

Hands trembling, Latto unveiled a vision he hadn’t seen for a long time – his wife’s full, plump, pale buttocks. “Aren’t we supposed to discuss your behaviour now?”

“There’s no need. My behaviour’s been just as it should be. Now tap me a few times and we’ll have this whole silly episode finished.”

Latto raised his hand, pausing for a moment before he carried out her orders.

She’d been ordering him like this for ten years now.

For ten years she’d bullied him, ignored his needs, refused his pathetic requests for the pleasures of the marriage bed, embarrassed him in front of their neighbours and generally made life miserable. She’d treated their friends and neighbours with patronising contempt, so sure she was better and smarter than any of them.

He looked at the expanse of pale, smooth flesh. He’d never seen her like this. Her legs were clamped tightly together, denying him even a glimpse of her secret delights.

He was her HUSBAND, dammit! He had URGES. He had NEEDS. He had RIGHTS.

And he had his wife’s bare bottom at his mercy.

“Come on, what are you waiting for? Get a move on, I don’t have all night.”

“Yes, you do.” And his hand descended. Not to deliver a light tap, but to deliver his declaration of independence. The sound of that slap echoed around the room.

Harriel squawked in shock, then pushed up to get off his knee. But Latto dared to hold her down. “What do you think you’re DOING! Let me up this INSTANT!”

He didn’t speak. Words weren’t necessary, his hand was doing all the communicating. It flashed down again and again, harder and harder. Red handprints bloomed on her full cheeks, each one blazing for a moment before fading into the growing pink. Soon the pink was tinged with a cheerful crimson. His hand kept on falling, harder and faster.

Harriel yelled. She shouted orders. She demanded. She kicked and twisted and pounded her fists on his leg and tried to reach back to protect her outraged rear. Latto caught her flailing wrist, pinning her more securely as he methodically tanned her hide from the top of her cheeks to halfway down her thrashing thighs. She’d forgotten that the passive worm she ordered around was also a hardworking stonemason. Latto was just getting into stride, this was certainly less strenuous than pounding sandstone into shape all day. But a great deal more satisfying.

He found that he could get different reactions depending on how he spanked. Fast spanks to the centre of her cheeks had her legs kicking up and down like scissors, and brought a string of loud yelps. Hard, deliberate spanks on the lower cheeks had her kicking like a frog, accompanied by a series of shrill wails. He enjoyed that – the view was spectacular. Slaps to her thighs brought frantic squirming from side to side, and desperate squeals. He enjoyed this for quite some time – it was like playing a particularly active musical instrument.

Finally her struggles slowed, until she was limp and sobbing over his lap. Her cheeks were now a dark, angry crimson with purple highlights. Her legs were splayed wide after her last frantic bout of kicking, now he could see those treasures that had been denied for so long.

Latto’s hand stilled, resting on the burning surface. He was surprised at the heat that radiated from her skin. He felt calm, cleansed, all those years of tension and resentment gone. Harriel was whimpering and sobbing, past speech now. He started to stroke the hot skin, soothing it as his hand wandered over her swollen cheeks. Gradually Harriel stilled, sniffling into silence. Then his fingers wandered further, dipping between her parted thighs, lightly stroking along them until he reached her secret place, the soft skin slick and tender. Harriel gasped at that light touch, tensing as his fingers explored further, deeper….

She was wrong. She did have all night. Latto had been waiting for a long time, and he wasn’t going to waste a precious moment now.

He stood her back on her feet, then guided her to the bed. She whimpered as he pushed her gently onto the bed, her punished cheeks rubbing the harsh blankets. But Latto soon helped her forget the discomfort – his fingers, his lips, his tongue all exploring her. And then he leaned over her and entered her slowly, masterfully, and took her to a peak they’d never reached before.

He spanked her again, later, and took her twice more. And Harriel curled up against him and cried into his shoulder as years of harsh words and arrogance washed away. Finally they lay in each other’s arms as they watched dawn silver the windows. It was going to be a wonderful Sabbath.

* * * * * * *

“But dearest, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, I’ll let you know when to stop. Now how about a nice hot ten minutes with your hand to warm me up?”

“You sound very eager for it. Isn’t this supposed to be a punishment?”

“I really need this. I NEED to be punished good and hard and long and firm and forceful. PLEASE spank me hard. Spank my bottom, turn my bare bottom red as fire. Please?”

“Well, if you really deserve it.”

“Oh, trust me, I DESPERATELY deserve it. Spank me NOW!”

* * * * * * *

Selima shivered as she faced her husband. They’d been wed barely a week and she was still so shy of him. Her parents had arranged the match, they said he was a good man and she’d come to respect and love him. But Murin seemed so stern and remote, she was still learning all his rules for being a good and obedient wife.

“Remove your nightshift.”

Miserably she followed the ritual they enacted every night. He liked to look at her before he took her to bed. He wasn’t unkind or unpleasant, but she still felt uncomfortable showing herself like this to a man – even her husband. And tonight was going to be even worse.

“Now, come here.”

She shuffled over to his side, then bit back a cry of shock as he deposited her over his knees. He was so much taller than she, her feet didn’t touch the floor. Murin adjusted her position a little, so that she was draped over his left thigh. He scissored his legs around her and pinned her legs down with his right. Then he tapped the small of her back, “Hand.”

Awkwardly she reached her hand back until he caught her wrist, pinning it to her back and holding her immobile. Selima shivered.

“Now, we will discuss your behaviour this week. Tell me your infractions.”

Selima mumbled a sad litany about a broken dish, a few forbidden swear words, a burnt meal concealed in the compost heap, an absent-minded moment during the ironing leading to a burn-mark on his best shirt. Then she fell silent, awaiting sentence.

“I think five minutes with my hand will be enough this week. But if you swear again you’ll get the belt, five for each word. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, then gasped as his hand fell.

Murin held back a little on the strength of his blows, smacking her hard enough to sting and paint her cheeks pink, but not nearly as hard as a full strength spanking. Selima gasped and wriggled, yelping as he concentrated on her sit spot. Five minutes later she was struggling to hold back the tears as he finished with ten harder spanks to her lower cheeks – she’d feel them all Sabbath. Finally the smacking stopped.

Then she felt his fingers exploring her, and began to squirm again. “Keep still.” He teased at her nether lips, parting them slowly. Selima wriggled more, then yelped as his hand flashed down in a searingly hard smack, “I told you to be still!”

She whimpered and gasped as he ran his fingertips over the soft folds of warm flesh, tensing as he found the pearl nestled there and began to tease it. “I think it’s time you experienced more of the pleasures of the marriage bed.”

He’d been very restrained and patient with her up to now. Tonight he was going to awaken the fire in her.

“First we need to prepare you a little more.” And with no further warning he started spanking her again, harder now, concentrating on her sit spot, the heat building rapidly. Selima was shocked, then terrified. The sting built to a burning pain as she whimpered and then started to cry out at the horrible searing spanks.

The heat kept building as his hand slapped down relentlessly. Selima couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, the burning was horrible and he was going to do this to her every week and she hated being married and she hated this cruel remote man that she barely knew and she just wanted to go home to her family again….

He released her wrist, reaching under her to stroke her secret places, waves of new sensation running through her. And still one hand kept slapping down while the other worked at her, until she was caught between the pain and pleasure, until they became one. She started grinding herself onto his hand, then lifting to his smacks. Her sobs had become mewling cries, that grew to…”More! Harder! HARDER!”

Murin smacked until she was in a frenzy, then swiftly lifted and turned her to straddle him, guiding her down to impale her sweet and slow. Selima gripped his shoulders and rode him until the sensations exploded, both of them crying out their release. Then she collapsed against him, sobbing sweet tears.

They sat there together for a long time, until Murin kissed her gently and whispered sweet words, telling her she was brave, and beautiful, such a sweet and wonderful wife, his lovely girl. He gathered he up and carried her to their bed, still soothing and praising her, his voice warm and loving. Selima curled up against her husband and sighed happily. Married life might not be so bad after all.

* * * * * * *

The King’s laws apply to everyone. No exceptions.

Queen Merila lay over Borlan’s strong thighs, wriggling as his hand stroked her bare bottom. “So, wife, tell me how bad you’ve been this week.”

She giggled, “This is one law of yours that will be carried out with enthusiasm.”

“I’m sure it is. But I asked you a question.” His hand tapped her pale cheeks.

“I’ve been VERY good this week. So I deserve a lovely tingly sweet spanking.”

His hand patted a little harder, “Actually, you were very terse with the Tinset ambassador.”

“Yes, but he’s so hard to understand…”

“And you’ve been increasingly snappy all week.”

“I’ve been BUSY.”

“And you flirted with the Malapian prince at the ball last night.”

“Well, yes, just a little. Only a little.”

“What have I told you about flirting?”

Merila wasn’t giggling any more, Borlan was sounding serious and she wasn’t in a good position to negotiate, “You don’t like me to do it – but it was only a little – just some fun – it didn’t mean anything….”

“What have I told you about flirting?”

Gulp. “That – that I wasn’t to do it.”

“And?”

“And that if I did it any more I’d get – you’d – that I’d get spanked with the hairbrush.”

“So we’ve agreed then?”

“We’ve WHAT? But Borlan, I – it was just in fun – I didn’t….” No conversation that included the word ‘hairbrush’ was going to end in anything good.

“I said if you flirted any more you’d get the hairbrush. And you flirted. So you agree that you deserve the hairbrush. Yes?”

“I – no – but – um….” What can you say? What is there to say? When all you can see is carpet, and his hand is tapping harder and harder, and – well – she did sort of flirt rather a lot, to try to get his attention, which seems to have worked a bit too well, “…. yes…”

“Good. So long as we agree.”

And by a stroke of amazing good luck the hairbrush was on the table beside his chair. Where he’d put it ready.

“I think twenty, don’t you agree?”

“I – what – OW!”

No warm-up. But she heated up pretty fast. Twenty isn’t a very big number, but twenty very hard strokes with the hairbrush definitely make an impression. He was very methodical, starting at the fullest part of her cheeks and working down, one side and then the other, to the tops of her thighs. And then up to the top and all over again.

After twenty Merila sagged over his lap, limp and gasping. And then he raised the brush and gave her one more fiendishly hard stroke, dead centre.

“EEOOW!!! What was THAT for?”

“Luck.”

She drew breath to tell him exactly how UNlucky he was going to be for the rest of his LIFE, but he started to stroke her poor sore cheeks gently. She decided to allow him to keep doing that for a while. He kept on stroking, his fingers dipping lower as Merila wriggled and moaned.

Soon they were wriggling and moaning together as Borlan comforted her properly. They’d moved to the bed to make the comforting more comfortable. Merila smiled to herself, she’d have to flirt more often if this was the result. She looked at her husband and smiled, “You, my lord, make VERY good laws.”

* * * * * * *

Tiarna and Brenn snuggled up together, arms around each other. Tiarna rested her head on his shoulder, then pouted a little, “My bottom still stings.”

“Good. It’ll remind you to behave yourself next time.”

“You spanked me HARD.”

“It’s the only way.”

She made a small, furious noise and nuzzled closer into his shoulder, “It HURT.”

“It didn’t hurt you that much. Just enough to remind you that I won’t allow my lady to keep overworking the way you do, you have to delegate some duties to your staff, you have plenty of assistants and maidservants who’d love to help you much more than you allow them to right now.”

“I will, I promise. Truly.”

“You’d better. Or next Sabbath eve won’t be fun for you.” But his hands were stroking her warm cheeks, soothing her sore skin, making her smile, then giggle, then purr. She smiled to herself as she thought about all the Sabbath eves to come – most of them, she hoped, bringing sweet gentle spankings before the loving. But even the harder spankings were fun – sometimes.

She stretched and smiled – yes, that new law had definite possibilities.

* * * * * * *

Goran looked at Aliera, “It’s time.” They’d made their evening meal last as long as possible, each of them dreading what was to come. Goran pushed his chair away from the table. Aliera walked towards him, stiff-legged, and stood by his side. She started to bend over his lap, awkward and tense. Goran lifted her quickly into position and raised her robe, baring her. Her skin was smooth and pale again, the miraculous ointments and lotions of the healers had removed all trace of the punishments he’d inflicted during the Offering. Goran paused, wondering if he could force himself to hurt her again.

Aliera lay over his lap and shivered, desperately searching her mind for the right words. She could speak seven languages, but she lacked the words to speak to him. Touch me. Want me. Love me. Her mind screamed the words she couldn’t say.

“You’ve done well this week. No need to punish you.” Goran forced out the words. If only he could think of something else to say. I love you, I want you….

Aliera thought of the past week. Most of it had been a blur of pain, then yearning. And then Kevan. Should she tell him about Kevan? What kind of spanking do you get for meeting your true love without your husband’s permission. She felt so confused – when she was near Goran she wanted him desperately, but he didn’t want her at all. Kevan smiled and made her laugh and he loved her. She felt so torn, so confused by it all. If only Goran would want her….

Goran smacked her cheeks lightly, barely more than pats. After half a dozen he stopped and put her back on her feet again as he stood up. Aliera leaned towards him – this was the moment, now he’d take her in his arms and hold her and she’d be his properly and forever. She so desperately needed his loving touch.

Goran stepped back, “I need to finish some work at the Palace. Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be back late in the night.”

Then he turned and was gone.

Goran hurried through the Temple complex, he had to get away from her or he’d sweep her into his arms and never let her go. And she wasn’t ready for that yet. He had to be patient, just a little longer.

Aliera watched him go, shock freezing her to the spot. He’d gone, he cared so little that he couldn’t even force himself to hug her.

Well, she knew someone who would. Kevan was leaving tonight. She could at least say goodbye to him, snatch a few more precious moments with a man who truly cared.

Aliera threw a cloak around her shoulders and hurried through the quiet courtyards. She had to get to the docks before he left. She had to say goodbye.

Kevan watched the men load his baggage, pacing the dock. Damn Borlan and his interfering ways! Damn those do-gooders who wanted to stop a man when he just wanted to have some fun. He’d find a place that appreciated a man of his quality. The captain was talking about the opportunities in the Southern Islands. A clever man could build his own little empire there, if he knew what he wanted and how to get it. He’d be damned if he wasted five years of his life swinging a sword for Borlan. Pity he had some unfinished business, though. He’d have liked to find a way to pay back Borlan and that oaf Goran.

And then he saw her.

Aliera hurried past a pile of barrels, the moonlight striking pale on her tumbled hair. So she’d kept her promise to say a fond farewell, had she? Perhaps he could take his revenge after all. The stupid little bitch was making it so easy for him. He stepped forward, “My sweet brave love, you shouldn’t be in this place all alone. It’s dangerous for a woman on her own. But I’m here to protect you now.”

Aliera ran to him, finding refuge in his arms, “I had to see you one last time.”

“My darling, you’re cold! Step on board for a moment, I have a warm blanket in my cabin. I can’t let you be chilled. Come, just for a few minutes, until you’re warm again.” He led her up the gangplank and along the deck, then down below to his cabin. “I have a draught that will warm you, we can’t have you catching a chill.” A few sips of a certain special brew and she’d be unconscious. Luck was smiling on him indeed, he’d have a pleasant way to pass the time during the cruise. When he’d done with her he’d let the sailors have her – if she survived his attentions. He had some very nasty surprises in store for Borlan’s lovely daughter, Goran’s beautiful wife. It was fortunate that he’d brought all his favourite tools.

Aliera stumbled into the cabin, happy just to be with her wonderful, adoring Kevan. The only person in the world who truly loved her. At last she was safe.

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