before the dance began again.
Returning to his seat, he sipped his coffee and watched the show. You had to love it when you had a very experienced, well-educated medical team nearby. Not only was Harriet Williams a wonderful midwife, but her husband was a doctor, and had proven to be an invaluable source of information. Robert had shared several obscure tidbits about effective ways to creatively take a woman in hand. The use of a ginger plug had been but one.
Richard had remembered the tip when he'd gone into the root cellar. He'd known that his pretty little wife expected him to tip her over his knees and spank her. While that was an option, the moment he'd seen the basket of ginger, he'd known exactly what to do. Watching her now, the lower half of her body continuing to sway, he had no doubt that the root was definitely working to irritate her insides, but he also had no doubt that it would be a lesson not soon forgotten.
"Would you get the molds down for me?" Anna asked quietly.
"Is the butter done?"
"Almost. I just thought that, um…"
He watched her seem to struggle with her words, and was proud when she sighed and continued.
"I just thought that it might save a few minutes."
"I'd be glad to." He stood and walked to the kitchen. Picking up the molds, he gave them a quick wipe with a damp cloth. As he did so, he smiled. Seeing the roses he'd carved into the bottom of the molds gave him another idea. He placed them on the table and returned to their bedroom. When he came back, he saw that Anna was removing the lid to the churn.
"Is it ready?"
"Yes. I just need to scrape it out and put it in the molds."
"Before you do, come here.
"Oh, thank you," she almost shouted and ran to the table, throwing herself over the side and almost knocking the butter molds to the floor.
"Don't thank me yet," he said as he lifted her clothing. When her hands reached back, he grinned but patted them. "Hold onto the edge of the table. We're not done."
She moaned but obeyed, reaching to grip the opposite edge.
He could see that the juices from the root had slid down her thighs. He could also see that her cream had added to the moisture. Anna was one of those rare women whose body reacted with pleasure even when she was being punished. It didn't negate the fact that she truly felt the discipline; it simply meant that he was a very lucky man.
Picking up the paddle he'd brought from the bedroom, he stepped to the side. Placing one hand on her lower back, he heard her gasp. "Stay in position and it will only be two."
"Yes, sir."
He landed the first stroke on the lower half of her right buttock. She yelped and her foot lifted, but she didn't release the table. Stepping to the other side, he placed the second stroke on her left cheek. This stroke was followed by her moan and another foot lift.
"Good girl. You can rise."
"But I thought you were going to take it out!"
"You thought wrong." He helped her to stand and then tucked the back of her skirts up into her waistband. "I believe I told you that you'd hold your plug until you finished your chore and could tell me the lesson you've learned."
Her mouth opened and then closed as she accepted the fact that she was not the one in charge. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then pointed to the molds. "The only thing that's better than seeing fresh butter is seeing that same design on the arse of the woman who worked so hard to make it."
Her green eyes widened and two hands reached back to cup freshly paddled cheeks. "You didn't!"
He chuckled and pulled her hands off her backside. "I did. I loved the butter dance you did, and decided it would be even more entertaining to watch you finish with a pair of beautiful roses decorating your bum."
"Richard!" She blushed hotly and then shook her head. "And you call me incorrigible!"
He swatted her lightly. "I'll scrape out the churn if you'll grab the paddles."
Anna brought him the two wooden paddles and held the bowl as he scooped
Returning to his seat, he sipped his coffee and watched the show. You had to love it when you had a very experienced, well-educated medical team nearby. Not only was Harriet Williams a wonderful midwife, but her husband was a doctor, and had proven to be an invaluable source of information. Robert had shared several obscure tidbits about effective ways to creatively take a woman in hand. The use of a ginger plug had been but one.
Richard had remembered the tip when he'd gone into the root cellar. He'd known that his pretty little wife expected him to tip her over his knees and spank her. While that was an option, the moment he'd seen the basket of ginger, he'd known exactly what to do. Watching her now, the lower half of her body continuing to sway, he had no doubt that the root was definitely working to irritate her insides, but he also had no doubt that it would be a lesson not soon forgotten.
"Would you get the molds down for me?" Anna asked quietly.
"Is the butter done?"
"Almost. I just thought that, um…"
He watched her seem to struggle with her words, and was proud when she sighed and continued.
"I just thought that it might save a few minutes."
"I'd be glad to." He stood and walked to the kitchen. Picking up the molds, he gave them a quick wipe with a damp cloth. As he did so, he smiled. Seeing the roses he'd carved into the bottom of the molds gave him another idea. He placed them on the table and returned to their bedroom. When he came back, he saw that Anna was removing the lid to the churn.
"Is it ready?"
"Yes. I just need to scrape it out and put it in the molds."
"Before you do, come here.
"Oh, thank you," she almost shouted and ran to the table, throwing herself over the side and almost knocking the butter molds to the floor.
"Don't thank me yet," he said as he lifted her clothing. When her hands reached back, he grinned but patted them. "Hold onto the edge of the table. We're not done."
She moaned but obeyed, reaching to grip the opposite edge.
He could see that the juices from the root had slid down her thighs. He could also see that her cream had added to the moisture. Anna was one of those rare women whose body reacted with pleasure even when she was being punished. It didn't negate the fact that she truly felt the discipline; it simply meant that he was a very lucky man.
Picking up the paddle he'd brought from the bedroom, he stepped to the side. Placing one hand on her lower back, he heard her gasp. "Stay in position and it will only be two."
"Yes, sir."
He landed the first stroke on the lower half of her right buttock. She yelped and her foot lifted, but she didn't release the table. Stepping to the other side, he placed the second stroke on her left cheek. This stroke was followed by her moan and another foot lift.
"Good girl. You can rise."
"But I thought you were going to take it out!"
"You thought wrong." He helped her to stand and then tucked the back of her skirts up into her waistband. "I believe I told you that you'd hold your plug until you finished your chore and could tell me the lesson you've learned."
Her mouth opened and then closed as she accepted the fact that she was not the one in charge. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then pointed to the molds. "The only thing that's better than seeing fresh butter is seeing that same design on the arse of the woman who worked so hard to make it."
Her green eyes widened and two hands reached back to cup freshly paddled cheeks. "You didn't!"
He chuckled and pulled her hands off her backside. "I did. I loved the butter dance you did, and decided it would be even more entertaining to watch you finish with a pair of beautiful roses decorating your bum."
"Richard!" She blushed hotly and then shook her head. "And you call me incorrigible!"
He swatted her lightly. "I'll scrape out the churn if you'll grab the paddles."
Anna brought him the two wooden paddles and held the bowl as he scooped
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