Rebellious Bride by Lizbeth Dusseau

wife’s dress and
tossed the long garment up over her behind. All her naked glory showed. The two
white orbs of her bottom were gleaming, ready to be blistered red by his
leather belt. Standing back, Aaron eyed Abigail’s behind for a few seconds. How
many ways he lusted after her fine rear flesh, though on his occasion, it was
only the lust of righteousness that moved him, as his anger with her swelled.
He was glad for the right to punish her, since it seemed to be the only thing
that would get his message through to his rebellious bride even if he had to
periodically repeat it.
    Doubling the
long leather in his fist, Aaron reared back and then let the belt fly.
    Smack! The
first strike, a nasty one, was a prelude to the entire hotfired whipping. Abigail jerked hard at the blow, and cried out something she rarely
did with a first smack. As the smacks rained down, her feet were dancing a
frenzied jig, each strike stinging so profoundly, her only recourse was to let
some of the pain free with her squirming and the impassioned howls. Though she
was in an agonizing fix, pleading with him at every strike, Aaron didn’t say a
word and didn’t change his ruthless pace. With a determined methodical
precision, he laid the strap across the two jiggling orbs, not pausing even
once, until they were red from top to bottom.
    “ Yeow ! Gawd no! Please!” She
stomped her feet in their staccato dance, jerked her bottom as if she could get
away, but that only caused the descending leather to hit her tender sides where
the sting made her agony worse yet. Her pointless efforts for some display of
mercy were met only with more strikes, though at least for one instant Aaron
paused.
    “How
could l possibly deserve this?” Abigail wondered in the all too brief
moment. “Such a small offense.”
    “Please
Aaron, I can’t take anymore,” she let out her best protest. “Please
no.”
    He stopped for
an instant. “No, you say? I think I’ve been too easy on you,” he
finally spoke. “But not anymore.”
    “ Yeawww !” One especially hard strike whipped about her
ass cheeks, the tip of the belt catching not her hips this time, but the high
on the front thigh quite near her sensitive pubic mound.
    “You, my
little lady, are going to behave yourself, or you’re going to find yourself
with a bottom so sore, you’re never going to want to sit.” He was finally
letting up the smacks as his lecture took over. “I’m not going to keep
repeating myself, do you understand?”
    “Yes,”
Abigail managed to sob.
    “I have
very few rules, but I expect them to followed. Is that clear?”
    “Yes, yes
it is.”
    Aaron leveled
a final smack right in the middle of her sore behind. She jerked once more and
then collapsed against the end of the table, realizing that her husband was
finally finished.
    Usually after
she’d been punished, Aaron Barrow’s anger was spent, and there was some kind of
comfort in the aftermath. But this time, as her husband pulled Abigail up to
standing, it seemed his expression was as severe as it had been when he first
began.

    “I’m
sorry, Aaron, I really am,” Abigail said as she wiped her tears away.
    “Good,”
he said, though his face didn’t change a bit.
    “I am
sorry, my love. Is something else wrong?” she asked, worried by his
expression. Abigail stared at her hus band’s waist as
he was replacing the leather belt. It made her shiver to see it, horrible,
strange and even sometimes wonderful feelings were ignited by just looking at
the formidable thing. Unfortunately, at the moment, the tension between she and
Aaron was worse than ever, and there would be no sweet passions this time.
    “Yes,
Abigail there is something wrong,” Aaron replied to her question.
    She looked up
at his face now more troubled than grim.
    “Please
tell me.”
    He cleared his
throat obviously uncomfortable with his next words. “There’s a shortage in
the accounts at the mill,” he said.
    Abigail’s eyes
widened. “A