Sir Thomas’s Bride_Masterful Husbands_Book One Read online

  Thomas spanked on until Margaret's previously striped derriere was an even scarlet colour all over her fleshy nates. When she ceased to struggle, Sir Thomas could hear her sobbing piteously into her petticoats.

  After a final flurry of spanks, Thomas rested his hand on his wife's behind. My but she had a hot little bum! He ran his hand firmly over her punished rear which elicited a small shrill squeal from somewhere under the attractive pile of silk and lace that lay gathered over Margaret's head. Thomas smiled happily and allowed himself a small treat; his hand drifted south, down between his new wife's thighs and found her soft virginal cleft.

  A sudden thrashing of legs indicated that Margaret would prefer that her husband remove his hand from that part of her most private anatomy. However, Sir Thomas had put up with a rather lot from the Lady Margaret, not only today but over the past year of their engagement and so he felt that he and his aching pego, deserved a little treat.

  Stroking the silken skin of his wife's virginal quim, Sir Thomas shifted slightly to accommodate his swelling organ that was pressed uncomfortably tight against the fall of his breeches. His experienced hand told him that his wife was becoming slightly aroused. She was moist and he was able to slide his finger inside her extremely tight and velvety sheath... hmm, was that a small moan he heard?

  After a while, his little vixen was unable to stop the lift of her hips rising up to meet his questing fingers. Thomas decided to give Margaret something to ponder on while they ate their wedding supper together. He continued his manipulation with his well versed digits, eventually bringing the lady to a very loud and satisfying culmination after which she appeared to either have expired completely or had fallen asleep, still slumped across his lap. Sir Thomas gave her a moment or two of recovery before he flipped her upright once more.

  Margaret sat flustered and flummoxed in absolute silence. When Thomas handed her another glass of sherry, she could not recall him having left the settee to fetch it, nor could she remember finishing the fortifying drink. She handed her husband her empty glass and even thanked him for it in a somewhat subdued voice.

  "Supper is served in the dining room, sir," Gates announced and stood back as he held the door open for his master and mistress. His eyes widened but otherwise Gates gave no further indication that he found the sight of his mistress's dishevelled hair in any way peculiar.

  Thomas winked at his butler as he walked jauntily past him; really tonight had turned out to be so much more fun than he had expected and there were the delights of the bed chamber yet to follow.

  Margaret found herself seated at the table and could only sit there and stare vacantly into space. Thomas, therefore, took it upon himself to serve his wife. He took a plate from the sideboard and wandered along the silver tureens that were filled with delicious offerings sent up from the kitchen for their wedding supper.

  Casting a practiced eye over the delicacies from each of the tempting dishes on offer, Sir Thomas filled a plate and placed it in front of Margaret with a little flourish. He waited expectantly but when no acknowledgement came, he coughed politely.

  "Oh yes, you may sit!" the lady responded.

  "Pardon me, but the correct response should be, 'thank you, Thomas'," her husband suggested.

  "I dislike quail eggs excessively," Margaret replied, her lips pursed in a tight line.

  "I am sorry for that, m'dear. I do believe you disliked being spanked too, am I not correct?"

  Lady Margaret sat up a little straighter. "I thank you, Thomas, for the plate of victuals.

  It was most kind of you to be sure!"

  Thomas smiled amiably. "You are most welcome, Margaret, my dear." Supper continued in much the same vein until it was time to retire.

  "I shall ring for Hockley," Lady Margaret stated.

  "Hockley has the evening off, my dear, as has Grisson my valet. I shall attend to your needs myself this eve, have no fear."

  "This is too much, Thomas, how dare you!"

  Thomas gazed at his bride considering. "I think, Margaret that it would be best if you made your way up to our chamber now, I will follow on shortly in order to aid you, that is, should you require my assistance."

  "Our chamber?"

  "Yes, my love, for it is our wedding night, so our chamber it will be."

  Lady Margaret rose and swept toward the door. She exited the dining room without another word.

  Chapter 3

  When Margaret left the dining room, she fully intended to run off into the bowels of the house and hide somewhere but unfortunately her plan was foiled by Thomas's infuriating butler, Gates. He was hovering outside the door with a chamber stick lit, ready to guide her to her bedchamber. She had no choice but to follow the pompous butler up the sweeping staircase.

  Margaret was reeling from tonight's events. Thomas Wiggington had tricked her into this marriage, along with his accomplice Lord Benedict Mortimer and the King himself.

  Margaret's mother, Lady Beauchamp, had filled Margaret's head with the nonsensical expectation of marriage to Lord Mortimer. She had plotted with Margaret's godfather, Lord North, who was presently appointed as First Lord of the Treasury, in fact the Prime Minister of England, to bring about a marriage between the Lady Margaret and Benedict, Lord Mortimer.

  However, Lord Mortimer had other ideas and refused to be manipulated by Margaret's socially ambitious mother. Instead, he found himself ordered by the King to become engaged to an American, a colonial girl named Rose Randolph, whose father had the ear of the patriots in the Americas. England had hoped that the marriage would avert any further hostilities within the colonies.

  At first furious and determined not to wed the American girl, Lord Mortimer had found instead that he was captivated by the pretty Rose Randolph and had willingly married her.

  Margaret had been devastated by the union, genuinely wanting Benedict Mortimer for herself. She and her mother waged war on Rose, cruelly undermining her at every opportunity, in the vain hope they could scupper the marriage. At the Mortimer's wedding reception, held at the Queen's Palace no less, Sir Thomas had proposed to Margaret, right under the noses of their Majesties, King George and Queen Charlotte.

  The Royal couple sanctioned the match, which meant that there was no chance of Margaret breaking off the engagement without becoming a social outcast, with no chance of ever marrying within her own acceptable circle of gentlemen from the elite families of 'le bon ton'. The whole proposal had been orchestrated by Lord Benedict, Sir Thomas and even King George himself played a part in the plotting of Margaret's downfall, or as they all saw it, as her comeuppance.

  Margaret had resigned herself to her fate. She knew Sir Thomas Wiggington to be an easy going man and one who she could manipulate and intimidate. However, recent events now led her to believe that she had been grossly misled. She had wrongly supposed that he was a coxcomb and a milksop.

  How had the simple, stuttering man she had married but a few hours previous become this tyrant; a man who had whipped and spanked her bottom and then elicited the most heavenly sensation that she ever experienced? She was bemused and confused and truly did not know what to think.

  Sir Thomas's friends, the Lord Benedict Mortimer and Viscount Weston, knew that the ladies were often fooled by Thomas's clever performance of a stuttering silly fellow. They knew the man as an excellent swordsman, besting them both when he had a foil in his hand. They also knew that Thomas was quick witted and astute and that he thoroughly enjoyed taming the most arrogant and rudest of haute society women. His penchant for spanking came strongly into play and was one of his most enjoyable pursuits.

  What Margaret was not aware of was that Sir Thomas had been head over heels in love with her for some time. In fact, from the very moment she gave him a cutting dressing down, when he had asked her to dance on the first occasion that he had laid eyes on her. All the women he had tamed, or sweetened, as he preferred to call it, since that moment, were nothing but hollow versions of Margaret.

  Gates
opened the door to his master's chamber and stood back so that his new mistress could enter. She swept by him and banged the door rudely, shutting it in his face behind her.

  Margaret stood still and surveyed the room laid before her. She absently rubbed her throbbing derrière as she took in the details of her new marital bedchamber. It was an attractive room and she had to admit that she did like Thomas's taste in décor. The room was once again furnished in the Greek style, which was so very modern and fashionable at present.

  The chamber could be used by either a man or a woman with calming shades of Wedgewood blue and cream used throughout the soft furnishings. A large bed, already turned down for the night, covered with a blue and cream striped counterpane, sat square, dominating the room. The headboard was edged with a border of Wedgewood blue silk. The centre was filled with gathered cream silk, pulled tight into the centre and held fast by a Wedgewood blue, circling band of silk, so that the tight lines and ridges of material ran out to the far edges of the headboard almost resembling a multi pointed star.

  Two comfortable chairs, covered in the same striped Wedgewood blue and cream, sat either side of a roaring fire. A beautiful dressing table sat in the bay of a window that was hung with Wedgewood blue, brocade curtains, pulled closed across the large curved window. Opposite the doorway in which Margaret stood was another door ajar, the inside of the room glowed with lighted candles tempting Margaret to cross the chamber to take a peek inside to see what that chamber might contain.

  It turned out to be a large windowless dressing room, containing two enormous armoires that covered the length of the two longest walls. Against the third wall stood a single bed, next to that a strange looking ottoman. A contraption such as she had never seen before. It was slightly taller than her waist height and the bottom base was wider than the narrower top. The top was thickly padded and covered in brown suede leather. Margaret ran her hand over the top and found that it was soft to the touch. It had no lid and appeared not to open.

  Moving back into the main chamber, she noticed that a pale pink nightdress had been laid out on the end of the bed; no doubt meant for her. She picked the flimsy thing up and was filled with disgust. It was a most scandalous garment for a bride to wear; why the thing was nearly translucent! Margaret cast it aside with a snort of disgust and went to sit at the elegant dressing table, matched in the Greek style with flowing lines and sleek curved legs. She removed her stockings and flung those aside. Her maid had set out a set of crystal cut silver topped jars, full of creams and powders for her toilette. She creamed her face, then using a bottle of lavender water, she wet one of the cotton cloths placed inside a silver box for that purpose and removed the mess of powder and rouge from her skin.

  While she removed her hair pins and brushed down her tawny coloured hair, the door opened and Thomas entered the room. He immediately crossed the floor and removed the hairbrush from Margaret's hand. He began to brush her hair. She opened her mouth to complain but Thomas caught her glance in the mirror and quelled her with a singularly intense look that she read correctly to be a warning. Vexed, Margaret closed her mouth with a snap as she clenched her buttocks and squirmed imperceptibly on her recently spanked rump.

  As Thomas brushed, Margaret's eyes closed, the gliding, gentle strokes of the brush soothed her and she was sorry when at last Thomas placed her silver brush back onto the dresser's polished surface.

  Margaret tensed as his fingers deftly began the arduous task of unhooking each pearl hook on the back of her wedding dress. When he wished her to lean further, he placed his warm hands on her bare shoulders and gently eased her forward.

  When every last hook was opened, Thomas held out his hand to her. Margaret placed her small hand in his and stood. He walked her to the centre of the room, whereupon he eased the gown so that it glided down over shoulders and breasts with a whisper as it puddled onto the floor. Margaret stepped out from her dress and Thomas moved behind her and began to undo her stays. Once those were loose, he pulled them off and kissed her shoulder once before moving to a fire side chair where he shrugged out of his top coat and matching golden embossed waistcoat. Margaret stood and watched him, standing shyly in her shift and petticoats.

  "Do you need help with removing the rest of your undergarments, my dear?" Thomas asked her solicitously.

  Margaret swallowed convulsively. "Er, no, I thank you, sir but I shall sleep in my shift this night."

  Thomas stopped in the act of removing his shirt. "No, you most certainly shall not. Remove your petticoats and then I shall attend you."

  Margaret stared at her new husband. The body he was revealing piece by piece was quite a surprise to her, for she had only once seen a man's naked chest and Thomas's appeared to be quite an athletic one compared with the overweight blacksmith who she had once seen without his shirt on, while he worked within the heat of his forge.

  Thomas moved to undo the fall of his breeches, having first removed his stockings and revealed well-muscled, masculine hairy calves. Margaret's heart began an uncomfortable tattoo; her gaze was riveted to the ever widening gape of his fawn breeches.

  The corner of Thomas's mouth quirked at the intensely curious look which crossed Margaret's face and he had no doubt that his would be the first manhood his virginal bride had ever seen.

  Thomas knew his pego's size could best many a man, both in length and girth but he was also realistic enough to know that there were many men out there with far larger wedding tackle than he possessed. Still he was of goodly size and the ladies whom he had bedded had no complaints. In fact, they had generally cooed delightedly when presented with his cockstand to ride upon. In short, he was confident of his abilities within the boudoir.

  As Thomas began to slide his nether garments over his naked backside, Margaret gasped and spun away, turning her back to him. She adroitly slipped out of her petticoats and shift before running for the shelter of the bed, jumping in and pulling the sheets and blankets up over her head.

  Thomas stood completely naked, his erection proud and jutting stiffly from his belly. Making his way over to where his wife now lay buried in bed linen, he tugged back the covers only to find Margaret's eyes screwed tightly shut.

  "Madam, behold your husband," he spoke gently and encouragingly but Margaret would not open her eyes. Thomas flung the covers right off her body and Margaret squealed, alarmed as her eyes flew open and she glimpsed the peculiar jutting limb attached to her husband's lower body. What the deuce was that thing?

  Hands quested gently over her flesh, her shoulders, her breasts, and her belly but most shockingly of all, betwixt her legs. Thomas had touched her there earlier, just after he had spanked her, oh the utter shame and... The deliciousness, the amazing sensations and the powerful feelings he evoked within her! Whatever was he about? Could these strange intimacies be the normal goings on within a marriage bed? Her mother had never spoken of what she could expect and no one had prepared her for what Thomas was now doing to her body.

  Margaret was half terrified and half aroused. He gently tugged her upright into a sitting position and slipped the chemise over her head, Margaret was too befuddled to fight him.

  "Darling Margaret, this is what marriage is ordained for, did you not know?"

  Thomas didn't wait for her answer but continued to talk softly to her. He guided her back down upon the bed and began to trail butterfly kisses and apply light touches to her nipples, her quim and her mouth.

  Gentle strokes interspaced with soft tweaks from hand and lips, never stopping in one area for longer than a moment, he gentled her and lulled her, soothing her troubled senses and awakening others.

  "Marriage is for pleasure, for delight, for children to be conceived. I should like you to bear me children, Margaret, a whole household of little ones for us to love and cherish. Would you like that also, my love?"

  He chose that moment to slip his finger between her plump quim lips and found her tight, damp opening, circling her wetness with a slow and gentle pr
essure. Margaret lay with her eyes screwed tight shut but despite her fury at her impotence in this hitherto unexplored situation, she enjoyed the spiralling feelings of desire that Thomas was invoking.

  Then his finger left her, replaced by another sense of touch, a soft and probing swirling against the hard nubbin of her clitoris, to date an undiscovered part of her body. Margaret's eyes at once flew open and widened with shock when she realised that Thomas's head was feasting between her thighs. She attempted to close her legs against this seducing invader but her husband held her thighs firmly apart and continued to flick her with his rapier like tongue.

  Soon Margaret was in a world that she had never visited before; one of such decadent pleasure. All coherent thought left her mind and she felt as though she were floating on a sea of completely indescribable and hitherto unexplored, blissful sensation. Then a powerful surge overwhelmed her and a grasping and greedy need filled her limbs with such a force that she bucked and moaned unknowingly.

  Her husband smiled into her quim when she nearly unseated him as her hips jerked upwards and her feet drummed on the bed. He added two fingers into the slippery mix of her sex and thrust them into her flooded channel, all the while continuing to gently nibble on his new bride's endearing little clitty.

  When she screamed her completion, Thomas hummed with pleasure. She was as wanton as he had known she would be. His little gem, his waspish Margaret with her naughty sting, she was his to take whenever he pleased. She was all that he desired in a woman, pretty, luscious, feisty, turbulent but also truculent, petulant, peevish and above all, so very, very spankable.

  While Margaret was quelled by her culmination, Thomas slid expertly between her legs, whilst his hand positioned his engorged and now aching shaft at her virgin entrance. He leaned up upon his elbows and tenderly clasped Margaret either side of her face. He lowered his head and kissed her, working his tongue in and around her mouth with gentle seduction.