Page 33 of Taken By the Soldier
Her eyes grow round, and she inhales a deep breath. Just when I fear she’s about to refuse, she sits taller and says, “Okay, I swear. I swear on the souls of my parents and grandparents, and even my dear sister, that I will not run away. I want to give this place a chance.”
Her words please me beyond measure, and I lean forward and offer her my hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
She grasps my hand, and we shake. “It’s a deal, then.” A playful look enters her eyes. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”
Chapter19
JUDITH
After dinner,I make tea and we retire to the living room, where we have a perfect view of the stars reflecting off the lake. Luka wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
My eyes drift shut, and I bask in a glow of contentment.
I’m starting to think Luka is the answer to all the desperate prayers I’d whispered alone in the darkness of my apartment. Two weeks ago, I would’ve berated myself for entertaining this idea, but things are changing between us.
Sighing, I nestle my cheek against the coarse fabric of his uniform, fatigue finally taking over as I drift to sleep.
When I awake an indiscernible amount of time later, I find myself pressed down on the bed, my clothing entirely removed. How long did I nap with Luka on the couch? A glance at the window reveals it’s still night, or at least early morning. A small lamp is turned on, illuminating the room in soft warm hues.
Brought back to awareness by the delicious kisses Luka is trailing up the insides of my thighs, I caress my fingers through his hair and part my legs in invitation.
“That’s it.” He meets my stare. “Spread your pussy wide. Reach down and pull your lips apart.”
The coarseness of his words cause my face to heat. Jesus, has anyone ever spoken to me that way before? Unsure of whether he seriously wants me to pull my pussy lips apart, I lean back and do nothing.
Smack! Smack!
He stings the front of one thigh with two sharp slaps.
“Ah!” I flinch as the sudden pain propels me to full wakefulness. My two previous spankings are fresh in my mind and give me a healthy respect for my husband, though I don’t truly anticipate punishment for not following directions in the bedroom. But given his rather barbaric tendencies, I suppose I ought to have expected such roughness.
“I’ll give you one more chance to spread those pussy lips apart, princess.”
Shame ripples through me at the prospect of obeying such a crass command. I start to reach down, but then I retract my hands from my center.
“No. I will not.” My tone is firm and haughty, but the truth is, I don’t feel as brave as I might sound right now. But I can’t do it. I simply can’t. The idea of holding myself open to his gaze is just too embarrassing.
Nope. Not gonna do it.
“Very well.” His eyes flash with danger.
I tense and hide my face in my hands, expecting another smack to my thigh. Instead, he settles himself on the edge of the bed and pulls me across his lap. My wiggling is no match for his strong grip as he pins my hands down and wraps a leg around my flailing ones.
“I knew it would take more than two sessions over my knee to spank the defiance out of you.”
“This is ridiculous. It’s not like I tried to run away, and I didn’t curse. At least, I-I don’t think I did.” Hm. Maybe I dropped an F-bomb by accident. I’m having trouble thinking clearly right now, and in my old life, I’d cursed like a sailor. Though I would never admit it aloud, sometimes I’d used words as a shield to make myself feel tough.
His huge hand covers one of my bottom cheeks and he begins to rub. “Not running away and not cursing aren’t my only rules for you, young lady, and you well know it. I’ve told you that I expect your obedience both inside and outside of the bedroom, have I not?”
“In other words, you want me to be a good little slave? Cook, clean, manage the house, be a model wife so you don’t lose face in the settlement,andspread my legs for you every night with a smile on my face?” I mean for my reply to be sarcastic, but for some reason, my tone sounds more hostile than anything. I cringe and wonder if I should apologize. But maybe I really meant it. Sure, I’d recently promised him I wouldn’t run away, but that doesn’t mean I totally agree with his rules and his way of life. Part of me still resents this life I’ve been thrust into.
“You’re my wife, and those are your duties as my wife, yes. As your husband, it’s my job to keep you safe, healthy, and taken care of. I will make sure there’s food in the cupboards, a roof over your head, and clothing on your back. If you’re sick, I’ll find a doctor. If you’re cold, I’ll build you a fire and wrap you up in a blanket. We each have different roles in this marriage, Judith, and I expect you to live up to yours. And when I feel it’s necessary, I will redden your bottom to remind you how a good wife behaves.”
Why does his little speech make me feel ashamed? Why does my throat suddenly burn? And fucking hell… why does his promise to take care of me leave me warm all over?
He continues to rub circles over my bottom as I sort out my muddled thoughts.
“I keep forgetting,” my voice cracks, “that the world is different, and your idea of marriage is not how I ever envisioned it. And yes, sometimes I resent my duties, even though I… I am trying to find my place here.”
