11. St. Erth
If the innkeeper and servants were a little startled to see Catherine at the door covered in hay and dirt, with her hair falling down her back, they were too used to the ways of the Quality to say anything.
I ordered a warm bath to be drawn up in the back of the inn in the kitchens and watched with satisfaction as servants brought steaming kettles full of water, filling the kitchen with a delicious warmth.
When they were done, the bath was full, hot and inviting.
Catherine was standing as far away as she could from me, and when I started undressing her face flushed and she turned away from me.
When I was completely naked, her face set determinedly away from my thick hanging cock, I stepped into the bath, grabbing the sturdy country bar of soap the innkeeper provided, and sunk down into the hot water.
My eyes felt like they burned as they fixed on my wife. Catherine’s delicate white dress was torn, hanging in shreds from her body, and she tried in vain to hold the pieces of cloth together. Her hair had almost all fallen out of its pins, the long auburn waves tumbled over her bare shoulders.
It gave me an unexpected flush of savage pleasure to see what I did to her.
My skin felt warm, heated with my burning anger at her disobedience.
The sooner she realized there would be no defeating me, no beating me at my own game, the better.
After I cleaned myself, I waited deliberately, watching her silently as the hot water cooled.
Catherine was pretending to ignore me, staring fixedly at the corner stove like it was the most fascinating thing she had seen in her life.
“You’re filthy,” I ordered. “Take off your clothes and get ready to get in the tub.”
“I won’t fit in there with you,” she protested, fastening horrified round eyes on me.
“No one said you were getting in with me,” I corrected her. “I just want to see what I purchased. My property.”
She flushed, the bright pink a warm color against her pale skin.
“Are you going to call a servant to get more hot water?” she squeaked.
“Brats don’t get fresh bath water,” I said sharply, and her little pink mouth dropped open with surprise. “In fact, you’re going to get in here and wash off without another fucking word.”
I saw her cringe at my language. God, what a spoiled princess she was.
Of course, I had to call a servant girl from the inn to help her undress because she didn’t know how to do it herself.
She was weak.
Weak, helpless, under my control.
Just the way I wanted her.
After the maid had gotten her started, she was able to finish, quickly dropping her wedding dress, the straw and dirt still clinging to it, and she stood there shivering in her undergarments.
I saw her nipples tighten against the thin fabric of the shift and I felt my cock hardening in the bath.
“Your shift too,” I said harshly.
She started to protest, but she looked at me, and, fingers trembling, moved to slide out of her sheath, her face even redder as she stood before me naked.
“So you’re a spoiled miss who has never had to bathe after anyone else?” I asked.
She hesitated, then raised her little chin defiantly.
“My family has enough means to make sure we each had fresh bath water,” she said.
Little cat!
“Not anymore,” I returned. “The high and mighty Wendover family are under my power now.” I let the pleasure of my revenge heat my body as the bath water cooled around me.
“I am—sorry to hear about your mother,” Catherine said hesitantly. “But surely there is some mistake? Surely if my father had realized—?”
“There is no mistake,” I cut her off harshly, angry at her words. “You will bathe after me,” I continued. “In whatever water I choose to leave you. You’re here to take whatever I give you.”
It was a lot easier than it should have been to start stroking my cock, hard and throbbing as I looked at my new wife standing before me, the pink flush across her face and spreading down to her chest, her shame and embarrassment visible all over her pale skin. My cock was aching at the sight of her, the way she was trying to hide her round breasts, the curve of her hip, her cunt from me.
“Move your hands, or I’ll come out of the bath and whip you,” I threatened her, and she obeyed as I stroked my shaft. My hands tightened on my cock, stroking myself convulsively, when I saw the tips of her nipples, the marks my angry hands had made on her hips.
Mine. Mine to own and punish.
Her thighs were squeezed tight together, preventing me from seeing the whole of her. And her body was mine to do as I pleased with, mine to look at how I chose now.
“Spread your legs apart,” I gritted my teeth, feeling the muscles in my arms strain, trying to move slower.
She looked at me in confusion.
“I want to see my cunt,” I ordered, feeling the release building up my spine.
She opened them nervously, shifting her position, and I could see a splash of wetness on her thigh.
Was that my seed on her thighs? My release filling her so completely that it’s dripping down her legs?
“Eyes on me,” I growled.
When she bit her lip and raised her soft brown eyes to mine, I released into the bath water, my cum covering the bar of soap, shooting in ropes before her horrified eyes.
I could feel my chest heaving and I controlled my breathing with an effort, getting up and drying myself off.
Then I indicated the bath.
“Get in, Viscountess.”
She tightened her lips together as she looked at the tub, bits of hay and chunks of dirt from the barn floating in it, my cum splattered across the cold water, coating the bar of soap.
“I want fresh water,” she said, and I was darkly amused by the little spark of defiance in her eyes. I hadn’t noticed before, but they weren’t all brown. She had little bright flecks of gold in them. Her useless defiance might amuse me. Or it might piss me off.
I took two steps toward my wife, and that was all she needed to scurry away from me and hop into the tub.
By this time the water was cold, and I watched Catherine gingerly sink down into the tub, looking at the water like it was going to bite her.
“Soap up,” I said shortly, pulling a fresh pair of breeches on.
She wrinkled her nose up, but she obeyed, dunking the soap before beginning to wash her body.
I leaned against the wall and watched her. It pleased me to see her forced to rub my release all over her body, the motion soaking my seed into her skin.
As it should be. I wanted her filled, stuffed full, with my release.
Filled with my child, my heir.
Her nose was turned up at the soap.
“Keep going,” I said.
I could feel my cock already twitching. She pulled the soap under the water and I wondered if she was running it across her breasts, cleaning each pink nipple with my cum, soaping her pink, puffed-up cunt with my cum.
I clenched my fists tightly, but it didn’t stop my cock from hardening.
When I saw her teeth finally beginning to chatter, I allowed her to get out, and she hastily pulled the towel around her body and dried off.
As if the little towel was any barrier to me, I thought as she quickly pulled the pure white nightgown over her head.
The inn owner directed us to a back staircase we could use to climb to our room.
I followed Catherine up to the room.
“Why did you tell the innkeeper you were going to Bath?” I asked sharply.
“I’ve always wanted to go,” she said in a small voice, then, louder, “and I am going to get away from you.”
“I bound you to me today,” I returned, laying a heavy hand on her neck. “You’re mine now.”
After I had firmly shut the door of our room behind me, I couldn’t help grabbing her tightly by the nightgown and throwing her on her back onto the bed.
I wanted to slow down, make my control and power over her slower, but I couldn’t help taking her brutally quickly again, tearing up her nightgown and settling between her thighs.
Catherine’s little squeaks only made my cock harder.
“You are here to give me an heir,” I reminded her, gritting my teeth.
It must be because I could taste the revenge on my tongue that made me so out of control, I thought as I ripped her legs open, not giving her any time to prepare, just thrusting inside her, sinking my cock as deep as I could.
And godsdamn, did she ever feel good, tight and warm, her wet curls falling over the back of her nightgown.
The soft gown had fallen off her shoulder a little bit, exposing her skin, and I couldn’t help leaning forward to bite it, my cock taking her viciously, each thrust a reminder that she couldn’t go anywhere, do anything, stop me from doing whatever the fuck I wanted to her.
My teeth closed on her shoulder, her skin tasting sweet under my teeth and tongue.
My new wife made a little noise in her throat, something between a moan and a whimper as she tried helplessly to shove me away, and I felt my release sizzle irresistibly at the base of my spine, flaming over my body as I released into her with a groan.
“Keep it inside,” I admonished, lying down beside her.
Catherine said nothing, turning her face away from me.
“I want you with child as soon as possible,” I continued. “I don’t want to deal with your father begging for any part of what will be my lands.”
I lay down beside her, leaving my breeches on the foot of the bed.
“Keep your nightgown up,” I ordered her, yanking my new wife back against my chest. “I might wake up and want to breed you again.”
“Again? You already did it twice,” Catherine said tremulously, and I could feel the little fluttering of her heart, her breath coming in little gasps.
I felt drowsy and content with my plan going so easily. The Wendover family could not escape now.
“I will want to do it again. And you will open your cunt to me, whenever I desire it.”
Half-asleep, I put one hand loosely around her throat, my fingers spanning the creamy skin, just for the pleasure of feeling the fluttering of her heart against my palm, the panting of her breath on my fingers.
Of course, when we reached Rosewood Manor we would naturally be sleeping in separate rooms except for when it was necessary to breed her.
She stiffened and squeaked, but I growled in her ear.
“Shh, wife. I want to enjoy your submission.”
I fell asleep quickly, my arm tightly around my new Viscountess, my hand on her throat. Keeping her from running away from me again.
She’s mine to torment now.