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“What?” Teddy sounded surprised at the shift in pace. He ruffled the short hair of Peaches' crown, stroking behind her ear. “Is that how you want it, puss?”

Peaches slipped a hand into the waist of his britches and closed it around his cock, felt it twitch and stiffen at her touch. 

He kissed the back of her neck, “My Peach.” 

She stroked the smoothness of prick, cupped his bollocks in cold fingers, massaging. 
 
Teddy groaned, low and sweet, and she felt his teeth on the nape of her neck, gently at first, then harder.

“Yes,” she said, “yes, like that.” His breath was hot, his mouth wet, and she ran her hand up and down his cock, felt the wetness of its head, the way it pushed her hand against the buttons of his britches. He worked his bites around her shoulders, up into the hollow under her ear.

“Oh, Peaches. You taste of cold and wool and roads.” He took her chin in his hands and turned her to him, tilting her head up towards him, leaving his marks on her throat, the tender sinews there. 

In the grate a fire flickered, but the cold had seared her, and his hands were so warm. She shifted against him, pressing her crotch against her own hand, with his prick beneath it. His kisses found their way down into the v of her shirt. Her nipples stiffened, sensitive from a day of being bound. She wanted him biting them, wanted him on the bed underneath her. 

“Remember,” she said, “when you still had your riding crop?”

“Oh,” and he said it like a sigh, and pulled her closer to him, as though he would pull her right into him, through his very skin. “The welts took a week to heal.”

“And I put your belt around your wrists. So you couldn’t squirm away.” 

She remembered how it had made his ribcage arch up, being bound like that, remembered how deep he had been inside her as she had circled her hips and brought the crop cracking down, as she had spent, her hair falling in front of her eyes. 

“Well. You’re flush again. You can buy another whip.”

A breathy laugh against her skin, “You’re my man, now. Maybe I ought to whip you.”

“Oh, no. No. I don’t think I’ll permit that.”

He flexed his hips, thrusting against her hand, “What if I gave you an order.”

“Then I’d get you on your knees,” she said, and pressed her thighs together, pushing harder against him, “tie your hands to the bedposts, and take the skin off your back.”

“You’d flog me?”

“That’s how you like it, Valance.” 

They were whispering now, words scalding and intimate.

“Oh. God. I’ll buy a whip tomorrow.” And he was lifting her up, kissing her breasts, pulling her legs around his chest, hands sliding up the back of her shirt and bringing her over to the bed. She tensed her muscles, clinging to him the way that, as a girl, she had ridden bareback. He gave another moan, long and low and welcome.

There was a knock at the door.

Teddy swore.

Another knock.

“What is it?” he said, managing a tone of irritated command, his hands slipping down between her legs. 

“It’s John, my Lord,” said John. “I have the things Mr Hedge said I was to fetch for you.”

“Oh, bugger,” Teddy whispered into her lips, but Lord Edward said, “I’m preparing for my bath, John. I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“Oh. Sorry, my Lord. I mean, I beg your pardon. Mr Hedge said I was to…”

“I don’t give a damn what Hedge said, John.” Teddy slammed her down on the bed, his hand over her mouth. “Just leave them outside. Peach will fetch them in when he’s attended his duties.”

“Are you sure, my Lord?”

“Does one normally question a command, John?” The shaking of suppressed laughter made his cock tremble against her. She dug her ankles into his arse and pulled him closer, biting his index finger to stop herself from cracking up.

Ow, Teddy mouthed.

“No, my Lord. Sorry, my Lord.”

Teddy grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head, shoving into her harder into the soft mattress. 

“Will there be anything else, my Lord?” The poor lad sounded terrified.

“No!” she almost shouted it with him and John finally took the hint as they both burst out laughing. “Oh, good God,” said Teddy, “I’m never going to get used to that.”

She was actually weeping with it, crying with laughter, wild with need at the golden column of Teddy’s throat directly above her. “But why did you tell him you were having a bath?”

“I had to get rid of him!”

“Yes, but now I actually need to draw one for you.” She latched fingertips into the side of his neck, squeezing with annoyance. 

“Surely not right away.”

“What are the odds Hedge is on the bloody landing, spying on us?”

“Oh, he wouldn’t dare.”

“Do you work at being this green, Teddy, or is it your natural state?”

“Right, that’s it,” he said and used her wrists to flip her over, climbing on to her thighs, lying atop of her. 

“That’s what?” her mouth was muffled by the thick bedspread.

“You, Peach, are going to be given a spanking. To teach you to speak with due deference.”

“Am I?” she twisted her head and pulled a face at him. It was not a respectful face.

“Uh-uh-uh,” he put a hand on the back of her neck and turned her facedown once more, pressing hard on the little bruises his bites had left. “You have been...” He pushed his cock against her, “flaunting that arse of yours all day in those britches. Every time we stopped to change horses, I had to watch you swaggering about. And now it is a matter of urgency that it feels the weight of my hand.” He removed the grip from her wrists and caressed her buttocks, squeezing. He kept the other hand on her neck, pressing her down into the bed. “So,” he said, and his palm cracked against her arse.

“Ow.”

“No, you don’t say ‘ow.’ You say, ‘thank you, my Lord.’ Got that, Peach?”

She smiled grimly and said nothing.

“Well, let’s try again, then,” and there was another crack, harder. 

“Mmmf.” She writhed her hips against the bed, feeling the weight of him on her.

“Stop squirming. Honestly. You’d think I was being unjust.” His hand came down again, and his tone dared her to contradict him.

Between her thighs, she was burning. If this went on, she soak her britches, and then they’d be in trouble.

Slap. Slap. Ow. “Thank you, my Lord,” she gasped.

“Better,” and the hand on her neck turned its grip into a caress for a moment. “Now, let’s see if we can keep that up.” He gave her backside another stinging blow.

“Ah,” she said, “bastard.”

“No, that’s not quite it.” His hand landed again.


“Mmm. But,” slap, “I need to go and draw your bath, my Lord.” Slap.

“Not just yet you don’t.” Slap. “Disciplining one’s servants,” slap, “is a very important,” slap, “duty. You must understand, Peach,” slap. “I take it most seriously.” And he hit her harder. 

She stifled a cry that was more moan. “Now stop fooling, Teddy."

Slap. “Who says I’m fooling?” Slap.

“You’re enjoying yourself, ah, far too much for, ow. And I thought... Ah. Please, ah, My Lord. Stop.”

He hesitated for a moment, “Please stop, my Lord? Oh, now there’s a development.” He brought his hand down again. “I could get to like this.”

“But... ah... if you don’t stop now, you... ouch... you won’t have time to fuck me.”

He slapped her again. “Excellent point. Besides,” and it was there in full force, that wickedness of his, as he shifted off her with one final blow, “I want my bath, Peach.”

“Oh, you arse,” she hauled herself to her feet, wetter than she wanted to be without having him inside her.

“No. That’s not quite it,” he said. “Shall we try that again? You bow and you kiss my hand and you say, ‘Thank you, my Lord, will that be all?’”

“Do I?”

“Oh, yes.”

Peaches nodded, then bowed and touched his fingers to her lips. They were hot from the impact of his slaps. She felt herself smile and lifted her gaze to look into his eyes, “Fuck you, Teddy Valance.”

He kissed her, on one eyelid, then on the other, then on her lips. “Of course you will, Peach. But first, I want my bath.”