The glowing red cheeks seemed to be emanating heat, they looked swollen and hot, as if the skin had been tautly drawn across them. Reaching out, Hugh rubbed the flaming surface, much the same as he had before he'd punished her, and felt the blaze searing his hand.
Unable to contain himself, he tossed the tawse onto his desk and reached for the front of his trousers, unlacing them and pulling his cock free. Hard as a rock, throbbing with need, a few drops of fluid were already decorating the tip. Fisting it in one hand, he rubbed his fingers along Irene's slit with his other.
She moaned, her hips moving up and down again, and he felt the moisture begin to seep from her body. It didn't matter that her bottom was a scalding torment, her pussy eagerly began to cream as he played with the soft folds. The soft moans that reached his ears sounded like a cross between pleasure and pain, making his own need surge higher.
Pressing his cock to her opening, he couldn't help shuddering with anticipation at the sight of his large rod pressing into her, between her well-roasted cheeks. Her bottom was even redder than her hair. Pushing in, both of them moaned as her wet sheath parted for him, and he gripped her hips and shoved hard into her. The heat from her bottom pressed against his groin as he filled her completely, her walls clenching around him as she let out a little cry.
"Oh sweetheart..." Hugh murmured. "You took your punishment very well, now let me make you feel good."
Irene truly wished that it didn't feel good. It seemed so wrong that she could find any pleasure at all when just moments ago she'd been sobbing her heart out from the scorching agony the tawse had ignited in her bottom. But just the touch of Hugh's fingers against her most sensitive folds and she'd felt her arousal surge with a shocking intensity. Then he'd pushed into her, and the sensual thrill had begun to throb along with the pain in her bottom.
She moaned as he pulled away and then thrust deep again, his stroke long and firm but gentle enough that his body didn't slap too painfully against her bottom. Of course, she knew that would change eventually, but for now he began taking deep, sure strokes that kindled a new kind of flame deep within her. With every thrust she could feel the head of his manhood rubbing against a spot deep inside of her that made her gasp and spasm; every time he pressed home, the hanging sack would slap pleasurably against her splayed folds and little pleasure nub.
Excitement built within her, even as his strokes came faster, harder. Her body thrilled to the connection of their bodies, even as her bottom began to burn again whenever his thrusts rocked against it.
Pushing back against him, Irene could feel her body tightening around his rampant cock, her breathing coming fast and hot as the chaotic mix of pain and pleasure began to build up towards ecstasy. She moaned, loudly, gasping Hugh's name as his thrusts became rougher, wilder. It was exactly what she needed to take her over the edge.
The rapture bubbled upwards and over, peaking in a glorious burst of light and tingling satisfaction that spread throughout her entire body. It blossomed and rebounded, like a wave sloshing against sides of a bowl and she was the bowl. Nearly mindless with the astonishing climax, Irene vented her overstimulated nerves with a scream into the cushion in front of her, spasming as Hugh roughly thrust hard and deep and his cock surged inside of her.
The hot clasp of Irene's rippling cunt, the fiery skin of her bottom pressed against his groin, contributed to what was possibly one of the most intense orgasms of Hugh's life. It felt like his cock was bursting, swollen to the point of being almost painful, until the pleasure splintered and he flooded his wife's womb with his seed. Her pussy sucked and squeezed, he was only dimly aware of her screams of pleasure as he struggled to remain upright behind her while the pleasure drained him.
"Bloody hell..." he grunted, his body bowing forward. Planting his hands on the opposite arm rest, he arched over Irene.
The red puffy eyes and tear tracks down her face didn't detract from the glowing, satiated expression and satisfied smile that curved her lips.
Reality slowly brought itself back together as he softened inside of her body, reluctant to leave the welcoming confines of her quim. Hugh stayed over her, panting as he got his breath back and just enjoyed feeling her body against his. Especially her hot little bottom. With a groan, he forced himself back upright and disengaged.
Between her pale thighs, her pussy was swollen pink and very wet, just beginning to seep the white cream of his seed. Hugh twitched her drawers shut and pulled her skirts down before lifting her into his arms. She seemed to be almost dreamy as he settled them both down on the chair, cradling her in his lap with his arms tightly around her and her head pillowed on his shoulder.
Long moments passed as they just sat there, contentedly soaking in the other's warmth and company. Irene shifted occasionally, easing the pressure on her sore bottom against Hugh's hard thighs as he stroked her shoulders, back and neck with light fingers.
"You know," she murmured eventually, "I don't enjoy the punishment, but I have no complaints about the aftermath."
Hugh chuckled, the vibrations traveling through his chest and rumbling against her cheek.
"And I don't enjoy the necessity of punishing you, but I'm rather fond of the aftermath myself."
"Just don't think to punish me when I don't deserve it just because you like what comes next," Irene warned, although she couldn't quite manage to sound severe. She poked him in the chest with her finger, but kept her cheek pressed against his shoulder so that he couldn't glare at her. "I don't care what my response is afterwards, I do not enjoy being spanked."
"You're not supposed to, sweet."
There was another long moment of silence. Despite the throbbing ache that lingered in her bottom, Irene felt strangely content. Almost kittenish; she rather thought she could purr and rub herself all over her husband and be very happy. The soreness between her legs was a good kind of soreness and it helped to ease the worst of the pain leftover from the tawse.
"I'll be civil with Lady Grace, but I won't tolerate her flirting with you. I don't care how she used to treat you, you're married to me now."
Her husband chuckled again, tightening his arms around her. Lips pressed against her forehead, which was all he could reach with the way she was cuddled against him. "You have no need to feel jealous, wife. I have no eyes for any woman but you."
Tears sparked in her own green eyes as she snuggled closer to him. "I do love you, so very much, Hugh."
"And I you."
Chapter 9
Watching over his ward with an eye towards marrying her himself, rather than marrying her off to someone else, felt very strange. And, at the same time, Wesley was fending off his mother's attempts at "practicing" finding him a suitable wife. Although, of course, he didn't tell her the direction of his thoughts; he had no idea how she would feel about Cynthia as a daughter-in-law when she'd been having such trouble with the young woman, but if she did approve then he'd find himself leg-shackled by his next breath.
His physical attraction to Cynthia aside, he began to mentally list the reasons she might make a suitable wife. For one, she could behave when she felt like it. Perhaps it was all the time spent with his mother, but when she was quite adept at being haughtily proper when the situation called for it. For another, she was already learning the responsibilities of the post since she was spending most of her time at his mother's side. She was smart, she didn't hesitate to speak her mind when they were in private, and she could make him laugh.
A few days after the Assembly he'd attended with her and his mother, he'd happened upon her while she was practicing the pianoforte. Well, he'd heard the haunting sounds trickling down the hall and he'd followed them, completely entranced by the beauty of the sound. She wasn't just technically good, she played with emotion, imbuing her playing with a quality that went far beyond enjoyable. He didn't know how long he'd stood in the doorway, not wanting to enter and break the spell of her music.