Page 8 of Sacred Vow

“Yes, what, wife?”

“Yes, husband?”

She was adorable, but in private, she would address me as Sir. The thought of her beneath me, restrained and obedient, sent darker thoughts spiraling through my mind. Christ. At this rate, I’d be hard through the entire reception. “You will call me Sir when I desire it and right now, that is what I desire.”

Her body relaxed and became pliant in my arms.

“Yes, Sir.”

I released her wrists and slid my hands down her arms. “Good girl,” I praised.

Stabbing pain in my shin almost brought me to my knees. Almost. The brat had kicked me with one of her stilettos. My patience evaporated.

“Thank you, wife,” I said as I brought her kicking over to the bed.

“For what?” she yelled.

“For giving me the excuse to belt your ass. I was only going to give you a warning spanking, but now, well, I think you need a far harsher lesson.”

I pinned her face-down on the bed while yanking off her shoes. “You won’t be needing these anymore. You have lost your shoe privileges for one week. If you fight me on this, you will also lose your clothing privileges,” I warned.

She stopped struggling immediately.

“You wouldn’t,” she accused. The bedspread muted her voice, making her words come out sounding younger and less serious than what the situation entailed.

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” I put my mouth right up to her ear and growled, “Who did you marry?”

She trembled in my grip. “Il Diavolo.”

“That’s right. ‘The Devil’, and if you know that, I think you also understand exactly what it means to belong to me. Let this serve as a warning to you, wife, that while I admire your spirit, I will not permit defiance, and you will be punished accordingly. No clothing privileges is only the beginning of what I can take away. Is that really how you wish to begin our union?”

I let her think about that for a moment, careful to keep my face a perfect blank. Even the Devil had his limits. Barefoot, perhaps, but I couldn’t see myself forcing Vittoria to attend the reception naked. I told myself it was practicality. Rival men would look. Rival men would speak. And I would answer with violence. But the truth was simpler and far more dangerous: the thought of humiliating her unsettled me.

“Our guests are expecting to greet and congratulate Mrs. Vitale. Being clothed for that is up to you, Vittoria. Obey me and do as I instruct, or I will take the choice from you. Understood?” I sounded harsh, like when I was speaking with one of my men, but she needed to obey me, this would set the tone of our marriage.

She stilled on the bed. I chose to take that as a sign that she would obey me, at least for the moment. I lifted my hand off her back and tugged her dress up over her hips. White lacy garters framed her gorgeous ass. The thin strap of her thong tapered up to a dimpled V on the back of her hips.

I left the stockings but took off the scrap of material covering her opening and sat on the edge of the bed, arranging her over my lap, with her silk stockinged feet hovering in the air. I brought my hand down, a loud crack! rending the quiet of the room. I admired the handprint that bloomed on her pale skin, then made a matching one on the other cheek.

Vittoria gripped the bedding in her fists when the first smack landed, and after the second, she clung as if her life depended on it. I brought my hand down in a flurry of spanks, quickly darkening her skin beneath my hand. She howled and thrashed, but no amount of kicking and crying would save her from a punishment.

She didn’t realize yet that she controlled the spanking. If she let go and accepted her punishment, this would end, but letting go was difficult, especially for someone as strong willed as Vittoria.

I lifted her off my lap and onto the bed. Grabbing a stack of pillows, I shoved them under her hips until her feet dangled in the air.

“Don’t move, Vittoria. This is your only warning.”

I drew the belt slowly from the loops of my pants and folded it in half. The hissing of leather sliding over the wool of my pants as I pulled my belt free was the only sound in the room. In contrast, once it was free and folded in half, I snapped it. Vittoria twitched so violently, she slipped off the pillows.

“I told you not to move.” I swung the belt, listening to the sharp sigh before it cracked on her quivering flesh.

“You bastard! That hurts!”

I almost chuckled when I heard the fire in her voice. My wife was a long way from behaving herself.

I swung the belt and struck the tender flesh at the base of her bottom.

“Ahh!”