Prima Page 4

  Satisfied that he had at least some inkling of what might be the problem, he found himself quite content to just hold her and rub her back, enjoying the softness of his woman in his arms. When the sobs quieted to occasional hiccoughs, he offered up what he considered to be an exceptional personal sacrifice, especially since he did not owe her the obligation by any means, and he knew that it might lead into areas of discussion that he would have preferred not to explore.

  "Tell me why you were crying, Katherine Marie," he whispered against the sweet smelling baby hair at her temple, and she stiffened. Joseph frowned. Most women of his experience spent their lives waiting for their men to ask a leading question like that. Apparently, she was not among them.

  Her answer was bold, but not bratty, and made into the flannel of his shirt. "Am I to have no thoughts of my own, then?" she asked, holding her breath for his reply.

  He frowned. What was with her? What was she thinking that she felt she needed to keep from him? "Answer my question." The command came out more harshly than he intended, but it did serve to prompt her.

  "I-I," she swallowed. "I'm just homesick."

  Understandable, but then a wholly unpleasant thought struck him. "Was there a man in the Northern Territories that you're pining away for because he couldn't afford the price your father put on you?"

  "No."

  His hand went to her forehead, feeling it compulsively to hide a sudden flash of pure, unadulterated jealousy that almost knocked him on his butt for no discernible reason; he certainly knew he'd been her first in every way. "You're sure there were no young bucks sniffin' around you?"

  "I'm sure."

  "You're just missin' your Pa?"

  She nodded her head, which buried her face against the solid muscles of his chest, and he started rubbing her back again soothingly. Somehow, just drawing the clean, masculine scent of him into her body relaxed her, although she really felt it had no right to have that effect.

  "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  This brought her head up, her eyes connecting fleetingly with his, then turning demurely down. Sniffling a little, she answered, "No."

  Well, this Goddamn conversation is like pulling teeth, he thought. She was answering him as if each word cost a stripe across her bottom. Women. Who could tell what they wanted? And nowadays, few men even bothered to worry about it. He had gone well above and beyond the call of duty, and if she was one of those rare creatures – a woman who didn't want to agonize over her feelings while her clueless mate listened with a progressively more glazed-over expression – then he'd just count himself even more lucky at having acquired her.

  She was turning out to be an exceptional investment in more ways than he had anticipated.

  ***

  The next days passed more quickly than she would have liked, and before she knew it, it was the dreaded Friday evening. She had made him a steak dinner, complete with potatoes and frozen corn. He was one of the few people still in existence who had both a fridge and a freezer; in fact, he had several, all full of choice meats. Prima's mouth watered, but she was not allowed to join him. Funny, it was less the denial of those foods that had become exotic in this day and age than it was the loss of the intimate companionship fostered while sharing the meal that bothered her, really. Joseph drew her out over their meals, sometimes making her laugh, his voice rich and low. She might have gotten a hard whippin' just before they sat down, but once it had been addressed by his big hand or one of the multitudes of implements he kept around his house just for use on her, it was truly forgotten.

  Joseph knew that some of his attitudes towards her surprised her, especially given the current social norm. But he was generally a loaner and didn't have many friends. It was only natural for him to converse with her. What was he going to do, sit across the table from her and ignore her?

  She surprised him in turn, once she relaxed a little and realized that he was not going to jump down her throat for laughing or smiling. Prima had a college education and could converse intelligently on a wide range of topics, and he encouraged her to talk to him freely at the dinner table, as long as she was respectful.

  So as she stood facing the corner of the kitchen, her arms folded behind her, skirt pinned up to show her bare bottom, she felt more than bereft of the meal, and more than humiliated at her position. She felt a loss of connection between herself and him that threatened the fragile intimacy that had grown between them. Oh, she had no illusions that he loved her or that he ever would love her. Theirs would never be that type of relationship. But somehow, she felt he might like her a little, and she heartily enjoyed making him laugh and watching him smile. Those meager flashes of enjoyment were the only things keeping her sane at this point, considering that, as jovial as he could be, he could be just as ruthless if she stepped out of line.

  Prima figured that, in the past two and a half days or so, she'd been spanked about twelve or fifteen times, and none of the punishments her father had given her could ever compare to the strength or viciousness of this man. Pa's health had been waning for quite some time, and he really hadn't spanked her much since she was a child. Even then, she knew that those sessions were nothing in comparison to the discipline she was receiving very regularly now.

  "More water," came the gruff order from behind her. She scurried to the ancient fridge and grabbed the jug, pouring him another glass while standing at his elbow, then replacing the jug and positioning herself back in the corner.

  Two heavy steps, and a hard swat to her bottom made her cry out. "Arms back, girl, before I tie them there."

  Prima hurriedly to comply, her bottom smarting as she heard him reclaim his seat. A few minutes later, "More potatoes."

  She plopped a second good-sized helping of her own special recipe of parmesan-garlic mashed potatoes onto his empty plate, asked politely if that was enough, then, dismissed at his grunt, found her way back to the corner, arms folded nicely this time. But she couldn't quite keep herself from fidgeting nervously, wondering what the next few hours would bring. She already found it extremely humiliating that he had thrown away all of her underwear – both bras and panties. Pa had thought it scandalous that a woman should go without undies, but, most women were not allowed to wear them any longer – although there wasn't a law against it yet. Prima felt terribly vulnerable to be totally naked under her shift – vulnerable to his paddle or her own hairbrush, or just to his wandering hands.

  This morning, after she had just gotten the kitchen cleaned up from breakfast, he had come in and bent her over the very snack bar he was now eating at. Brushing up the skirt of the dress to bare her bottom, he had pressed his engorged self into her from behind, slowly though, as if he was concerned that she might not have healed quite yet but couldn't help himself. Then he had run his hands up her sides to find her breasts, holding on to them tightly, pinching the nipples so that they hurt as he pumped into her warm sheath. As he thrust harder, his hands left her breasts to grab her arms and hold them back, clenching them tightly just above the elbow, pulling her into his every jab as if she liked it, wanted it.

  And, to her own shame, she did, but she had to bite her lip to keep from making any noise, knowing she was violating his rule about not hiding a response from him. But it didn't seem right for her to respond to being raped so callously – to gain pleasure from it.

  But, to her shame, she had.

  When he'd finished, Joseph had patted her bottom dismissively and walked away, and she was left aching of her own accord, his creamy deposit leaking sullenly from her, and she was not allowed to do anything about it.

  Prima had spent the rest of the day trying not to cry again, knowing that she faced a lifetime of this, with his seed drying slowly between her legs as he contributed more to it several other times throughout the day since she hadn't seemed to have had any pain from the first encounter today.

  She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear him get up, but rather felt that hand clench a whole butt cheek, making her jump. "Come back to the bedroom."

  Turning, she saw the dinner dishes and hesitated, but Joseph said, "I'll do them tonight. You need to get your bottom warmed up good." He emphasized his words with a second whack to her butt, hurrying her along towards her fate.

  Once in the bedroom, he put her back into a corner. Prima could hear him moving around the room, and it wasn't very long before he called her to him. There was what looked like one of those old gymnastic horses in the middle of the room, set to just about the right height for her to bend over.

  After removing her clothing and putting on the soft leather collar she mostly wore to bed, Joseph sat down on the end of the bed, taking her two hands in his. "This is your weekly spanking. When that's done, I'm going to do a baseline examination on you, and then I'm going to put you to bed. This is going to be a very harsh spanking, and I want to let you know that you can yell all you like – there's no one around here to be disturbed by it – but I don't want to hear any words. No pleas for mercy, because there won't be any, no promises of better behavior. You can yell all you want, but don't talk or it'll go harder on you. I'm going to give you twenty with the cane, then thirty with the paddle, then forty with the rubber strap, and fifty with the bath brush, then I'm going to finish you off with twenty more of the cane."

  Prima couldn't control a whimper at this pronouncement. She didn't even know if she could survive that much pain, but she was very afraid that she could.

  "When the spanking is done, the examination will commence. During some of the exam, you will stand at attention in the middle of the room, with your fingers laced behind your head. Unless I move you, you are not to move. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Sir." She could barely hear her own voice.

  "Some parts of the exam will be conducted on the bed, and during those times, even when you're lying on your freshly striped butt, you will remain still, and you will move only when I move you. The exam won't be easy for you, either, but you will obey me and endure it," he said sternly. "When I'm done with the exam, I'll put on your collar and cuffs and blindfold, and you'll go to sleep."

  With no further ado, he bent her over the thick leather horse after putting a rounded pillow in front of her hips, attaching her wrists to the legs in front and her ankles to the legs in back, then drawing a strap tight around her waist. She was well and truly immobilized, her bottom sticking out as an obscene target that he intended on hitting over a hundred and fifty times. She heard an unfamiliar click and whirring, and a flash exploded in the background just seconds before the cane whistled through the air and landed on her upturned flesh in a soul-destroying rhythm. Thwack…thwack…thwack…thwack. There were about four seconds between each horrendous stroke. He was unhurried but as relentless as a metronome counting off the seconds. Joseph put his arm into it, creating perfect tracks on those previously creamy hillocks that had Prima screaming from the third strike – only because she'd drawn in her breath so completely from the first and second strokes that she couldn't get a sound to come out of her throat. By the tenth, she was struggling to get away from the searing pain, but, of course, she wasn't going anywhere. She was there to take her weekly spanking, and he had made sure that she was going to feel each and every stroke to its fullest extent.

  By fifteen, she was out of breath again and sure she was going to die of the fiery pain lancing through her bottom. But she remained alive and conscious – unfortunately – to hear that vicious instrument's whistling descent and feel the unbearable sting of each connection with her already bruised and sore bottom until the full count had been met.

  Then, nothing. She knew the implements he intended to use were already laid out. But he waited a full minute, as she sobbed inconsolably; before he began the count again with the next item – the eighteen inch oak paddle, with holes, of course. Joseph was so hard just from caning her that he thought he was going to cum in his pants without ever having been touched by anyone or anything. But when the paddled flattened those red fleshy cheeks for just the first of what would be thirty tremendous strokes and she screamed high and uncontrollably, he knew he could take much more – and that she could, also.

  The paddle fell with the same relentless, remorselessly consistency as the cane had, only it was splatting against already irritated, welted flesh. Prima could not escape the pain that it created, all the way over those tender rounds and down the backs of her legs. Joseph concentrated a lot of his swats on her sit spot, searing that vulnerable area until it was a deep, bruised red – smacking the same place over and over again while reveling in her animalistic cries of pain.

  She hadn't said anything, in truth, she didn't have a mind with which to formulate a word at this point. Prima was just a mass of angry, swollen nerves, all of them located in her bum. Nothing else existed for her but the rise and fall of his arm and the crisp crack of wood against her flesh. It seemed he would never stop, and, somewhere in this round, she screamed so hard she lost her voice.

  And still the paddle fell.

  When he finally stopped, she relaxed exhaustedly over the horse. Even though she knew it was useless to fight against the bonds, her body required that she do something to try to escape the pain he was inflicting on her, so she held herself completely tense during the entire episode. She lay there, spent, until she heard him walk up behind her. Reflexively, her body tensed again, but he did not spank her, instead he insinuated his fingers between her legs, right to the heart of her, searching and finding the evidence that he sought.

  She was dripping wet.

  Joseph had been thinking that he might relent a little and not continue with the rest of the punishment, but her body had betrayed her. She might fight against it, and it certainly was hurting her, but her body craved his harsh discipline like it craved air.

  With a renewed resolve, he picked up the thin rubber strap.

  Chapter Four

  After the rubber strap fell the requisite forty times, he waited a minute, listening to her try to collect herself, unable to stop himself from rubbing his hand over the prominent bulge in his pants. He was right on the edge, shaking, and he could see that she echoed his involuntary movements, but for a different reason. The oval hardwood brush rose and fell on those lovely, angry cheeks fifty times, raising welts and causing bruises wherever it fell, adding to the misery of the one on the receiving end triple fold, but her cries and hoarse moans were music to his ears. At the thirtieth stroke, however, he stopped for just long enough to squat down behind her behind, looking closely for any signs of true problems, but there were none. This was obviously very hard on her, but she was, in reality, taking it very well.

  So he finished the last twenty with the bath brush and picked up the cane, whisking it through the air while he made her wait for the last twenty strokes.

  Just as he stood to one side to commence their delivery, he heard a rough whisper, "Please, no –"It was more like a prayer.

  A prayer that would go unanswered but not unpunished. Joseph came around front to where her head hung down, noting the puddle of tears, etc, that had formed beneath her face. He squatted in front of her this time. "Now, I was just thinking how well you've done with this. And there you go making a liar out of me. Those two words just earned you ten extra strokes each, after the examination."

  Prima lifted her head as far as she could and just wailed at that pronouncement, as much as she could, but the mournful sound changed immediately into a silent scream as the cane began its regular descent.

  When he was finally through with that portion of her punishment, he removed her bonds, but Prima found she absolutely couldn't move. Amazingly, Joseph didn't force her, but rather massaged her back and legs gently until she felt she was ready, lending her his strength when she finally decided she could make it to the bed. Once there, he told her to stand, and she drew on all of her strength to do so. Joseph put away the horse and called her to the bathroom, which Prima hobbled to very slowly. He weighed and measured her on an old-fashioned scale, like the ones that used to be in doctors' offices. Then he required that she go back and stand where the horse had been.

  "Attention!" he ordered, cracking his hand down hard on the front of her thigh, leaving a bright red print of his palm. Prima stood straight and stiff as best she could, remembering to lock her fingers behind her head. Her hair, which he had put in a ponytail while he punished her, was loosened, and Joseph indulged himself for a moment by running his fingers through its thick mass. There was little in this life better than the feel of a woman's hair in your hands. Your own woman's hair was that much better. Your own woman's hair after she's just received a thorough blistering was unbelievable.

  He began to check her out as if she were a horse he was going to buy or a woman at auction in the public square. He stood directly in front of her and looked her in the eye, and she looked back for longer than he was willing to tolerate, especially in a punishment situation. His fingers went immediately to her ample breasts, grasping each tender nipple between his thumb and index fingers, pinching and pulling hard, making her squirm to try to remain in position while trying to escape the pain. "You forget yourself, woman. Don't do it again," he warned sternly.

  He pulled her eyelids down and up, looked up her nose, which made her sneeze. He opened her mouth and touched her teeth, then made her stick her tongue out and say, "ahh." He occasionally turned, and she could hear him writing something down. Her ears were inspected and clucked over, and he noted that she still had three holes from the piercings that were allowed in the Before Time. He was surprised they had not healed over.

  "Did your Pa allow you to wear earrings?" There were laws against that now. Very few women had any jewelry – it was all made for men now or the gold melted down. Earrings were considered vainer than any woman was allowed to be.

  "Y-yes, Sir." That statement alone could result in a severe public caning for her and a hefty fine for her father.

  Joseph merely grunted at her reply. His inquisitive fingers felt down her neck and over her collarbone, noting a faded but angry-looking scar near her right shoulder. "What's this?"

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