The maiden and the prince

The large wooden door opened before she could reach it and one of the younger serving girls ran out, tears in her eyes and her hands clasping her behind. Alina immediately knew what must have happened and forgave the girl for not properly greeting her. She sighed as she entered her beloved’s bedchamber, she didn’t understand his obsession with punishing the girls himself, instead of letting the chamberlain do it as is proper.
The fact that she could enter his private quarters without a chaperone present spoke of his otherwise immaculate behaviour. The prince would never do anything that might dishonour her, not even in this last month before their wedding. Of course, he had kissed her during their time as betrothed, there had been fondling in quiet corners, but nothing that was abnormal during courtship.
They had not chosen each other of course, their marriage was a political one, but Alina had immediately taken a liking to the prince and – she thought – he to her as well. There was definitely the possibility of love in their marriage. She would just have to get used to – or perhaps influence – his dominant behaviour to those he thought less worthy than the nobly born.
“What happened?” She asked him after he kissed her.
He pointed at a silk shirt draped over the back of a chair. She could immediately see it was ruined, the silk ripped, probably an accident when washing it.
“It’s just a shirt, my prince.” She continued. “Did you have to punish the poor girl?”
The prince smiled at her. “Why are you so concerned about her my lady? She is just a peasant girl.”
“Peasant or noble, we’re all the same. Everyone makes mistakes my lord.”
“I disagree.” He said before taking her in his arms. “Let’s talk about something else.”
She let him kiss her. Now was not the time, she thought. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much, but soon she would try again and convince him that spanking the girls was inappropriate.

She barely recognised herself without any make-up and with her hair in a braid, it was so different from the normal tower of curls. A black maiden’s cap with a white laced border framed her face and with her handmaiden’s servants dress she was sure the prince wouldn’t recognise her either.
She entered his room with her eyes cast down like a proper servant. She marvelled at how anonymous servants really were, the prince didn’t even notice her when she walked past him. She had trouble holding back a giggle when she imagined his face when she’d tell him. She’d show him that the difference between a peasant and a noble was nothing more than your expectations of them.
“Get me some water girl.” He said, just as she started wondering what she was supposed to do.
“Yes, my lord.” She murmured, trying to change her voice. She picked up the large glass pitcher, a fine piece, made by a famous glass-blower from a southern kingdom. But when she moved to the table she tripped over the skirt of her servant’s dress. Her handmaiden was not only taller than her, which made the dress longer, she also wasn’t used to how wide it was. She was barely able to catch the chair to keep her from falling. The glass pitcher smashed on the ground, splinters flying in every direction.
She tried catching her breath, having just escaped a nasty fall. But the prince did not give her much time, in his eyes after all, she was not a lady. “You clumsy git!” He exclaimed, and suddenly the chair she was leaning on was pulled away. The prince sat down and pulled her across his lap. Before she could react his hand landed across her bottom, four smacks in rapid succession. Blood rushed to her face as she blushed crimson. “Wait’ wait!” She cried. But he didn’t stop, spreading smacks across her behind that started to sting, despite the protection of her dress. “It’s me!” She cried. “It’s me!”
He stopped. “I know it’s you.” He said, his hands grabbed the servant’s dress and started to slowly raise it to bare her legs. “Do you think I’m blind?”
She blushed even deeper, he had known. “Then why are you doing this?” She asked as the dress was now lifted up to her bottom. She felt her shift stuck in the folds in the skirt, if he pulled on it any more her bottom would be completely bared. And he wasn’t stopping. “You can’t spank me!”
“Why not?” He asked as he pulled her dress all the way to her back, a chaperone would’ve definitely found this inappropriate, she thought. “You’ve gone through so much trouble teaching me there is no difference between a peasant girl and a noble lady. And I see now that you are right, they both deserve a good spanking now and again. I promise you, starting now, I will stop discriminating between them.”
“Ouch! That’s not what I meant!” She exclaimed as he hit her now bare bottom. It stung a lot more without the protection of her dress and she remembered the girl from the day before, firmly grasping her sore behind. Would she be running back to her room the same way?
“Didn’t you want me to realise there was barely a difference between a peasant girl and a lady like you?” He continued spanking her while he talked, slow, steady smacks.
She had trouble breathing and moaned before being able to answer him. “Yes, but…”
“Well then this is exactly what you wanted.” He replied before she could finish her sentence.
“No…” She managed as he turned her bottom a bright pink, it was really starting to sting. “I wanted you to stop spanking the girls.”
To her surprise he stopped hitting her then and instead softly stroked her bottom. She blushed to realise how nice that was, despite the pain she felt. He had never touched her there before, not without at least two layers of clothing in between anyway. Despite the embarrassment and the red hot sting she enjoyed the intimacy, maybe too much even. “Ok.” He suddenly said.
She blinked. Ok? Just like that? Surprised she tried to push herself up from his knee, but then suddenly felt him pushing her back down. His stroking had stopped and with a loud smack his hand landed across her bottom again. She was too amazed to react immediately and he landed about half a dozen stinging smacks that made her yelp and squeal before she could manage a coherent sentence. “Wait, you said you would stop!”
“I will and I will explain to you how and why right after we’re finished with this.” He spanked her faster now, one smack landing after the other, not giving her time to talk or ague. Her bottom turned red, not the soft pink of before. But the feeling of intimacy remained, mingled with the sting and slowly fading embarrassment.
When he finally stopped she felt this was certainly the most exciting thing they had ever done together and when he let her stand up she was reluctant to lower the dress, still wanting the touch of his hand on her bare flesh. When her shift covered her behind however, pressed down by the heavy servant’s dress she was reminded of the sting and clasped her behind in an embarrassing copy of the young servant girl that had received the same treatment. “Go get properly dressed so we can talk.” The prince ordered her. So like the young maiden she ran back to her room. At least no-one would recognise her, she thought.

Her own dress, made from silk, felt light as a feather, soft on her behind. But she could still feel it, as she sat down, that stinging glow in her behind. Luckily all the prince’s chairs were padded.
“I realised when I felt how you reacted to the spanking.” He explained, though she had no idea what he was talking about. “And when you said you wanted me to stop spanking the girls of course.” He stopped for a short pause. “You were jealous. That explains why you came into my room dressed as a servant, and broke the pitcher.”
She blushed. “Of course I wasn’t!” She exclaimed. But something told her that might be a lie.
“Don’t worry, I completely understand. As you’ve certainly experienced today, a spanking can be quite intimate. Soon we’ll be married and then that kind of intimacy should be kept between man and wife.”
She blushed again, he would stop spanking the girls, but not her. Her plan had completely backfired, and still she loved the result.
“And from now on, if the servants do something wrong, you’ll be the one going across my knee.”
“What?! That’s not fair!” She interrupted him.
“But it is fair, my lady. You’d deny me the pleasure of many spanked behinds otherwise. Besides, when you’re my wife, you’ll be in charge of the household. Which means you’re responsible for the girls.” He kept silent for a while, gauging her reaction. “Don’t worry too much. I’m sure you’ll learn to enjoy it too.” She blushed, remembering how she had felt before, the intimacy of his hand. “When we’re married a spanking can be so much more than just a red behind…”