Rebellious Bride by Lizbeth Dusseau Page A

thing.”
    “Well,
you may go nurse your bottom inside the house. I still have my wife to attend
to.”
    The redhead
looked at Abigail. “Hey, don’t be too hard on her,” she told Aaron.
“You know this whole thing was my fault.”
    “If I
really believed that, I’d have punished you twice as long, Miss
Greenwood,” Aaron said sternly. “As it is, she’s going to get exactly
what she needs. Now you get on.”
    The feisty
brat almost smiled when she left, but that would have been a little unfair to
poor Abigail who still had her own punishment about to commence.
    The husband
and wife watched the shed door close, Aaron standing before it, Abigail to one
side. With his back to her, Abigail wondered what her husband was thinking as
he remained for some moments not moving. Not seeing his expressive face, she
couldn’t tell. When he finally turned about, she was hardly encouraged by the
grim look on his face.
    .Now, my
naughty brat. What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked. Abigail
shrunk back and bit her lip, part of a sheepish grin.
    “We just
kind of lost our heads.” “And you really thought you could get away
with it?” he asked. “I mean, Abby, you reek of liquor!”
    “Well,
maybe not,” she said. “But is spanking my bottom really
necessary?” she asked. Was it possible she could weasel out of this?
“After all … ”
    “After
all nothing,” Aaron shot back before she could finish. “I’m probably
as furious with you as I’ve ever been. This was almost as bad as the scare you
gave me when you ran home to your mother.”
    “But,
Aaron,” she groaned.
    “You’re
over my knee this time,” he declared.
    In a complete
change from Darcy’s punishment, Aaron sat down on a bench and drew his wife
close to him. She went over his lap seconds later, her skirt raised to reveal
her lovely robust cheeks.
    “This is
one you’re not going to for-get,” he advised her, taking the wooden paddle
in his hand.
    “Not the
paddle, please!” she protest- ed , seeing the
implement from the corner of her eye. Her naked cheeks clenched in fear, as a
grimace of concern crossed her face.
    “Yes, the
paddle,” he said. “This one’s going to sting.”
    And sting it
did. Abigail knew that unforgiving wood would hurt like hell from the instant
of the first strike. But it wasn’t just one strike to start her spanking, Aaron
leveled a good half dozen before he paused for even a second.
    “ Yeeeeawww ! Noooooo !” she
howled.
    Another half
dozen smacks, she howled all the way through them. Without even thinking, she
was flailing her arms and legs, struggling to get away.
    “Please,
Aaron, noooool ” she cried, trying to throw
herself from his lap as she wiggled about.
    “Oh, no
you don’t!” Aaron blared, sensing the mutiny. Pausing just a second, his
free arm gathered her hands in his large fist and held them tightly at her
waist. His right leg, in an effort to tame her struggling lower half, went over
her legs, pinning them down - a circumstance that Abigail hated, though there
was nothing she could do about it.
    Aaron resumed
the stinging smacks of the paddle, moving erratically this way and that about
her bottom, finding every white spot available making certain it would feel the
vicious sting. He was as thorough as he’d been with Darcy, Abigail’s ass end
turning crimson top to bottom. She hated that nasty paddle, but with no escape
from the mounting pain, all she could do was cry like a child.
    “Please nooooooooool ” she wailed.
    “I’m sooooory !” she wailed again.
    “Please,
please, Aaron,” she tried over and over.
    And yet, her
attempts were pointless, and her voice was only getting hoarse from all her
cries. Aaron would end the spanking when he was good and ready and not before.
The blistering heat and the impossi-ble pain made it
one of the worst she ever had.
    “You
think you’ve had enough?” Aaron finally asked her as he slowed his brisk
pace.
    “Oh, yes,
Aaron,