Mary sat stiffly in her chair. She was unused to being kept waiting, but hid her displeasure her upbringing and refinement had taught her better: A lady is always self possessed, her mother admonished, regardless of how she finds herself.
Well past the age of marriage, her intemperate tongue had dissuaded many suitors over the years. Two weeks ago on her nineteenth birthday, much to her chagrin, her father had announced her engagement. She was entirely unaware of her new fiancé, Master Jameson, by either name or reputation though both her mother and father had assured her that he was a man of intelligence and wealth. She'd only met him the day prior, when he had been invited to dinner by her father and she was not entirely displeased. He was tall and strong featured, with light hair and eyes. His movements throughout dinner were sharp and neat, and though he displayed all the proper dinner manners, he ate like a man used to going without. Though he said little, his gaze rarely strayed from her throughout the dinner.
Father had engaged him in the usual banter involving his military career. While listening, Mary had learned that her husband to be had been enlisted in the service for a few brief years but honorably discharged. After a stint of poor luck, he'd become a machinists apprentice. Shortly thereafter the man he was apprenticed to had retired. Having no sons, he'd left the business to Jameson which had flourished under his guidance. Over a few months the shop had turned enough of a profit to expand, doubling the number of employees and now there was talk of opening a second shop in another city.
There was something in his pale eyes that had disquieted her. She'd slept fitfully that night, flushed and unable to get comfortable. The next day, shortly after breakfast, her father had announced that Jameson would be by before lunch to pick her up her belongings and transport them, and her, to his estate. Appalled, Mary had locked herself in her room in protest. It had taken her mother an hour of begging and pleading to finally get her to relent her position and acquiesce to her father. Fighting back tears, she'd spent the rest of the morning packing her clothes and belongings. When Jameson had finally arrived, she'd been standing by the door, her suitcases lined up at her side. Nodding his head slightly as he came up the walk, he'd hardly spoken two words to her as he loaded her suitcases into his carriage.
When the last of her luggage was loaded he'd spent a few minutes in private with her father. When he finally appeared from the study, he'd held his arm out to her stiffly. "My lady."
Mary took it without hesitation, determined not to show the distress she now felt. He'd helped her politely into the carriage, as a gentleman should before ordering the driver to depart. They rode in silence, sitting across from one another. Mary made it a point to look out the window, expressionless. She could feel his eyes on her face. He looked as if at any moment he might speak, but did not. An hour passed as the carriage rumbled through the streets, finally coming to a stop before a foreboding looking building. Mary suppressed a frown; calling it an estate would be generous. While the yard was a suitable size, comparable to her father's property, the building was small. Only two stories and a little over half the size of the house she'd grown up in. There would hardly be room for the servants, if there were any. It was hardly the home of a well to do businessman and more like the abode of a humorless miser.
Jameson opened the door and stepped out, holding his hand out in waiting. "My lady." He said, his voice quiet.
Mary cast her eyes downward and murmured her thanks as she took his hand. Behind them, the driver busied himself with unloading the luggage. No servants greeted them or came out to help with the luggage, only adding to Mary's concern. She stood like a statue as her husband and the driver carried the luggage up to the house. When everything had been moved, Jameson spoke a quiet word of thanks and handed the driver several coins. The driver had the good grace to look thankful and departed hastily, leaving Mary alone with her new husband.
"If you please." James said, holding his arm out to her again. "I would show you your new home."
Mary followed mutely as he walked her around the grounds of the estate. The lawn and hedges were immaculate, despite the absence of any obvious gardeners. Carefully cultivated trees encircled a magnificent garden, lush with roses and other beautiful flowers.
Jameson plucked a vibrant crimson rose and held it up with a glimmer of a smile. "Though it pales in comparison with your beauty, please accept this small token of my affection."
Mary blushed in spite of herself and accepted the rose, her hand trembling slightly. "Thank you."
The rest of the home was immaculate, but spartan with little in the way of decoration. It seemed to Mary that Jameson hardly spent any time away from work. Mary thought that was small comfort, she could do worse than having run of an empty house. Given time, perhaps she could convince him to invest in some proper décor and add some warmth to the place.
"Are there no servants?" Mary asked finally, unable to bear the silence any longer.
"Not yet." Jameson said enigmatically. "But eventually."
Mary was appalled by his dismissive tone, but kept her ire in check. "Who shall cook then? And clean? Am I to do all the housekeeping myself?"
"If you would prefer." Jameson replied. "Though I do retain a cook, and a butler, they have been granted leave while you adjust to your new life."
"And your business?"
"It can wait." Jameson said. "My assistants are all capable, and reliable. I shall receive notice if my presence is required. Until then, we have time to get acquainted."
"Acquainted?" Mary said, her voice dire. "I think you assume too much sir. I may be your fiancée, but we are not yet married."
Jameson smiled, but did not respond immediately. Instead he spent a moment looking Mary up and down. When he finally did speak, his tone was light but firm. "I will forgive you your tone, as you are unfamiliar with your role and the rules involved. If you are so inclined, we shall have dinner out this evening and enjoy each other's company before settling in for the night.
Mary opened her mouth to retort angrily, but was brought up short as Jameson raised his hand for her to pause.
"I'd advise you to consider your next words carefully. Your life can be pleasurable or painful, the choice is yours."
"You, sir, have remarkable nerve." Mary said, turning away. "I am not some simpleton to do as you bid. If I am to be your wife, you will treat me with all the respect and courtesy a gentleman can afford a lady."
"If?" James said, still smiling. "If has come and gone. Let me assure you, you are mine now. I own you as surely as if you have been sold. "
"If that is how you feel, sir. Then you shall find our relationship to be a distant one indeed."
"That is unfortunate." Jameson said, sounding amused. "Do you favor that dress?"
"What?" Mary turned in surprise, the abrupt shift in conversation catching her unawares.
"Your dress." Jameson said, still smiling. "Do you favor it?"
"Yes." Mary said. "It is one of my favorites."
"Then I would advise you remove it now, before it gets ruined."
"Ruined?" Mary's voice was shrill as she looked at him in disbelief. "You wouldn't dare."
"If you value the dress, would do well to take it off. Quickly, I might add."
"I will do no such thing!"
Jameson nodded. "I suspected as much. Your father mentioned you were quite spirited." Stepping forward he grasped her firmly by the wrist. "Have it your own way then." Ignoring her protests and struggles, Jameson pulled at the bindings of her dress.
Not one to be defeated so easily, Mary twisted and struggled, but was no match for his strength. Shrieking and kicking, she gasped in surprise as the top of her dress was pulled down and bunched around her waist, exposing her breasts.
"Not bad." Jameson commented, still holding a knot of fabric tightly at her waist, the sleeves of her dress had become bunched and pinned her arms to her sides. Dragging her down the hall, Jameson opened the door to his bedroom. Settling on a tall stool, he forced her across his knee. Mary's protests turned into shrieks of terror as he lifted her skirt, exposing her legs. Bunching the fabric, he hooked his fingers into her undergarments, pulling her stocking and underwear to her knees. Humiliated, Mary bit back her tears. "Dishonor me if you will, but I will not beg."
"Dishonor you?" Jameson said mildly. "I have no intention of doing so. Contrary to what you may believe, I am quite enamored with you and will leave you intact until after we are properly wed."
"Enamored?" Mary said, still struggling. "You have an odd way of showing it."
"Not at all." Jameson replied. "I simply wish to teach you manners." Without another word, he brought his free hand across her ass. The slap echoed throughout the house, causing Mary to jump in surprise. She hadn't been spanked since she was ten. The sting brought tears to her eyes, but she refused to give him the pleasure.
