Her Noble Lords (21 page)

“This is a plug of ginger root. It has been peeled and carved, by Ralf, into the correct shape to fit nice and snug inside your arse. You will allow me to put it there, without resistance, if you please.”

I have never heard of anything more bizarre. “But… I do not understand. Why…?”

“You will know soon enough, girl. For now, you will obey me, please and accept your punishment.”

Is my punishment to be humiliation then? The mortifying effect of having them insert items into my arse? It is the only explanation which makes any sense to me. I manage a defeated little nod and grip the bedclothes in my fists as Piers attempts entry once more.

This time he succeeds. I let out a small whimper as the smooth root slips through the ring of muscle and penetrates deeper. It fills me. My passage has not been stretched nor coaxed open in readiness but it is bearable.

Satisfied, Piers stands back. “You may open your eyes again, little maid.”

I do so and venture a peep over my shoulder. Both men are behind me, arms folded. Ralf still looks stern, though Piers’ expression bears a hint of amusement.

“My lords, what…?”

“How does that feel, Linnet?” Piers tilts his head to one side and casts an assessing glance over my exposed backside.

“Not very nice, sir. I am humiliated beyond imagining though I suppose that to be your intention.”

“Not exactly. The peeled ginger now gracing your delightful arse gives off an oil. It is pungent enough to the taste and pleasant if you like that manner of flavouring but quite intense to the touch. Some find it unbearable, especially when applied to the more sensitive areas on the body. You will soon begin to understand what I mean.”

The words have hardly left his mouth before I do indeed take his meaning. A burning sensation has started to emanate from the ginger and I cannot avoid wriggling. I stretch my hand behind me to reach for the root, to pull it out.

“Oh, no, madam, we will have none of that.” Ralf takes off his belt and uses it to bind my wrists together in front of me. “You will wait until we decide it is time to remove the ginger, or until the effect is spent, at which time we will take a view on whether or not to insert another root. I brought several pieces from the kitchens. Much will depend on how penitent you are and whether you are able to convince us of your remorse.”

“Oh, ow. It hurts. Please, it is burning me.” I am writhing in earnest now, the horrid tingling inside my rear hole gaining strength. It feels hot, the discomfort gathering by the second.

“You will find it a little more comfortable if you can remain still and refrain from clenching.” Piers offers the helpful advice with a distinct smile upon his handsome visage. He is enjoying this no end.

“I cannot. It is too sore.” I roll onto my back, then onto my stomach again, desperately seeking some relief from the incessant searing. Nothing works. I try lying on one side, then on the other, before I scramble into a kneeling position. My rear end is throbbing, the intensity of the sensation causing me to gasp and moan. I am crying now, pleading with them to remove the vile root.

Ralf is unsympathetic. “Lie down, Linnet, and keep still. You do yourself no good with all this wriggling. The effects will last for perhaps an hour, then the pain will fade. This is happening and I suggest you resign yourself to it.”

“I cannot. Please…”

“Accept it. Or we could contrive to make it even worse.” Piers quirks his lip at me. It is on the tip of my tongue to suggest he go straight to hell but I manage to contain that dangerous urge. Instead I lie on my side and try to concentrate on breathing evenly.

An hour, Ralf said. I can last for an hour, surely.

Piers offers his brother a wicked smile. “She looks rather more comfortable than I would like. I believe we may need to intervene, brother.”

“You have sadistic tendencies, I fear.” Ralf offers no further argument in my defence.

“You misunderstand me. I merely thought that perhaps we should insist that our chastened wife refrain from lolling about in bed and join us down in the hall for the noon meal.”

“Ah, my apologies. You are right, of course. Come, Linnet, on your feet. We shall aid you in putting your clothes back on.”

“No, I cannot.”

“That was not a suggestion, little maid. It was a command. Stand up, now.”

Piers’ amused tone has hardened but even that is not sufficient to overcome the searing agony within my rear hole. Every movement I make creates a fresh jolt of liquid fire. I just want to remain here until it ends. I do not believe it to be conceivable that I could appear downstairs in this state.

“Sir, I cannot move. I will remain here, I promise, if you want to eat.”

“We will not leave you alone during a punishment. And we are hungry, so you must accompany us to the great hall. This is your final chance. Do it now, or we will have no option but to take the necessary steps to convince you of the wisdom of obedience.”

I push myself up onto my knees but can do no more. I let out a squeal of pain as the root shifts and rubs within me, abrading my delicate inner walls without mercy. “Please, my lords, do not make me go downstairs.”

“Turn around and bend forward.”

“Sir?”

Piers reiterates his command, though this time with just a swirl of his upturned finger. I obey, cursing my stupidity for provoking this, whatever it is they intend now.

I shriek as Piers takes hold of the portion of ginger root still protruding from my body and twists it inside me. The rubbing against my sore inner walls is unbearable. I lurch forward, dragging the root from his fingers.

“Hold her.”

Ralf does not even require the curt instruction to spur him into action. He moves around the bed to take hold of my shoulders and ease me back up again, my bottom presented for further torment. This time I am braced against him as Piers takes hold of the root, withdraws it an inch or two, then shoves it back in again. He repeats the action twice more as I sob and beg him to stop.

He does and I gasp my gratitude.

“So, Linnet, your clothes?”

“Yes,” I murmur. “I will come downstairs.”

Ralf is quick to release my hands, then they both help me into my clothes. Ralf takes a few additional moments to wipe my face with a damp flannel. I resolve to do all in my power not to cry again. I would be mortified if the household were to learn the details of my punishment.

“I will carry you downstairs, in view of your injured ankle.” Piers does not wait for my response, merely lifts me in his arms and marches to the door.

The meal is absolute agony for me. The pressure of the hard oak bench against the plug of ginger causes a vicious burning sensation every time I move. I manage not to make any sound but I am aware of more than a few curious glances directed my way as I grimace and writhe in my place. Ralf and Piers tuck into their food with a gusto bordering on callous whilst I pick at the morsels on my trencher, longing for this horrible interlude to be over.

At last, it is. As Ralf promised, the intensity of the burning eases after a while, less than an hour perhaps. I am uncomfortable but can manage to sit still and swallow a few mouthfuls of pigeon pie. This change does not go unnoticed.

Ralf leans in and murmurs into my ear, “Shall we return to our bedchamber, my lady? I believe you are looking tired.”

“I… I would appreciate that, my lord,” I whisper in response, desperately hoping they will not elect to insert another length of fresh ginger. I could not bear to undergo the whole process again.

“I trust you will soon be feeling better, my lady. Ralf will attend to your comfort I am sure and I will see you later in the day.” Piers is deep in conversation with our castle bailiff but interrupts his discussion of crop yields and tithes due. He turns to bestow on me a polite smile and offers a brief nod to his brother. It never fails to astound me how well these two communicate with hardly a word exchanged.

Ralf carries me back up to our chamber and deposits me on the bed. I start to unfasten the ties holding my tunic in place.

“That will not be necessary, Linnet. If you would kneel up, lean forward, and raise your skirts for me that will suffice.”

I am not sure which is the most humiliating—to be made to strip, or merely to bare my backside for whatever comes next—not that my view on the matter will be of any interest to a husband bent on discipline. I shuffle around on the bed to obey Ralf’s command, then wait, my buttocks exposed, as he examines my sore rear hole. He takes hold of the end of the root and draws it slowly from my body as I quiver in relief. Even though the acute discomfort is passed, the movement of the ginger inside me reignites the burning somewhat.

“So, Linnet, how will you safeguard our property next time you are called upon to take command of Egremont?” Ralf caresses the globes of my bottom as he asks the question and it is clear I am not expected to cover myself quite yet.

“I will ensure the drawbridge remains shut tight
and that only essential traffic be permitted to enter or leave. The postern gate will be guarded at all times, lookouts posted on our battlements to ensure we have sight in all directions.”

“Excellent, Linnet. We will make a military defence strategist of you yet. Spread your thighs for me, please.”

“Sir?” Even as I seek further clarification I am opening my legs.

My reward is a long, slow stroke of Ralf’s hand across my quim and clitoris. I may be apprehensive, wracked by embarrassment but the wet sound emanating from my nether regions tells its own tale.

“Ah, my sweet countess. I suspect you are in dire need.”

“Yes, sir. I have longed for your return. You and Sir Piers.”

“Aye, I know. And now that we are here and the unpleasant business of your punishment is behind us, I believe you should have your reward.” He punctuates his statement by inserting two, then three fingers deep into my quim. My inner walls grip him fiercely as I start to convulse around his hand.

“We have been away for two weeks and there is much pressing business we have to deal with. Piers will attend to the affairs of Egremont and I will attend to you. Later, when his duties allow, you will present yourself on your knees before my brother and be pleased to allow him to use you as he sees fit.”

“Yes, my lord. Of course.”

“Meanwhile, here and now, I intend to fuck you until you struggle to recall your own name, let alone mine.”

Oh, yes!
“Thank you, sir.”

Ralf chuckles and withdraws his fingers. He stands and unfastens his breeches, then shifts into position behind me.

“This will be hard and fast, Linnet. If you are unable to find your release I will aid you afterwards.”

Again I start to thank him but the words are lost in a startled yelp as his solid cock surges into my quim, filling me to the hilt.

“Little maid, wake up.”

I mutter something and roll onto my side.

My actions are met by a deep, rich chuckle which does something warm and delicious to my lower abdomen. A hand sweeps my tangled hair from my face. “Linnet, it is time to eat. Do you want to come down to the hall or shall I have one of your maids bring a tray up?”

Eat? But we only just finished our noontime meal. I wriggle further down under the warm blanket which covers me and attempt to draw the bedding over my head.

“Am I to assume our punishment has ruined your appetite for the day? I will leave you in peace then.”

The bed shifts as my tormentor moves away and I am suddenly seized by a sense of loss. I open my eyes to see Piers heading for the door.

“Sir? My lord, please do not leave.”

He turns, a smile on his features. “Ah, so you are awake after all.”

I sit up, only now realising I am fully dressed. I recall the events of earlier in the day, which culminated in one of my husbands fucking me quite thoroughly on this very bed, though without the unnecessary formality of undressing me first. Ralf just lifted my skirts, removed the ginger from my arse, and rammed his cock into my quim. It was quite delightful, once the horrid ginger was dispensed with.

“My apologies, sir. I should have been ready for you. It is late, you say?”

Piers returns to perch on the edge of the bed. “Ready, little maid? And what would that happy state consist of, pray?”

“Ralf said that you were occupied earlier but that when you were free I should be on my knees before you and welcome anything you choose to do to me.”

“Ah, how nice. And here I am, a man of leisure at last. But you fell asleep instead?”

I start to clamber from the bed, intent upon rectifying matters at once. Piers stops me by the simple expedient of pressing my shoulders back against my pillows and kissing me soundly. I part my lips, loving the sensation of intimacy as his tongue tangles around mine. I tunnel my fingers through his blond curls, my relief that all is now well between us near to overwhelming.

Piers stretches out alongside me on the bed and at first seems disinclined to progress beyond kissing me. I have no complaints, the kiss is wonderful but I am pleased when he contrives to loosen the ties on my tunic and slip it off one shoulder. At once, I long to be naked and his.

“Sir, I will undress.”

“But you are tired, little maid. My needs are pressing but not so urgent that I would disturb your rest.”

“Oh.” I
am
tired, he is right. But I am disappointed too and uncertain of how to regard his consideration. Piers’ tone is soft, his words kind but I am seized by a sense of rejection even so.

With Ralf, I am certain, always. He loves me. Piers is more reserved, stern and whilst he is affectionate enough there is a distance between us. He does not need me in the way Ralf does. He does not need me now, despite having been separated from me for a fortnight. Despite my clothing loosening under his hand, he is prepared to stand up and walk away, to leave me to sleep.

“Sir, please…”

“What is it, little maid?”

“It is your choice, of course, sir, I understand that. But…”

He stays nothing, just waits, his fingers cupping my cheek.