A Contrary Woman's Reformation

"Good girl, Willow," I whispered, feeling those tremors fluttering through her body.

It had been some time since I'd laid a master's hand on a woman to release her passions. The last one was a truculent servant caught with the rose gardener. She was put into a pillory. I caned her naked in the courtyard, for all to see the consequences of one's misdeeds. Yet, she nearly got the better of it, having cum loudly from the blows. Lady Willow had not committed such a crime that I know of, and... yet the thought of those moments had been entertaining.

I smiled, as I stroked the wetness between Willow's thighs. She melted from the release of lust flowing through her. From her anger and tirade, she had experienced a transformation, a bending of feelings; like a willow tree in the wind, she had cum despite her anger.

"Mistress Willow, you shall write out the answers to those items on the list and present them to the chambermaid before lunch. Do that, and you will have your regular meal in the dining hall. By nightfall, you shall have also apologized to the others, or I will have found my cane by then, Lady Willow. Understand?"

"Yes... Sire," she uttered, a soft response to my question.

Reticently, she snatched the paper while wriggling off my lap, straightening her shift and petticoats beneath her dress, again appearing like a young woman. It was an acknowledgment of an order, and at least the beginnings of a semblance of obedience. A rouge shade of red blush remained on her cheeks, as she avoided my eyes and hurried to the door. Less combative, she moved gingerly across the room and softly closed the door.

I looked at the wet spot she left on my trousers and eyed my rising bulge within. At the same time, the tingling in my hand reminded me to fetch my cane, or perhaps a paddle, before the next session with Willow. 'No reason I should suffer for her lack of discipline,' I thought.

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Shakespeare's play teaches that one could not tame a shrew overnight. Willow was no different. Undoing years of inadequate upbringing certainly would not be an overnight change. I expected Willow to need, indeed require, more than one course of correction. The one today was pleasing though a bit rusty in administration. I was sure Lady Willow also found it enjoyable from the moisture she left on my lap.

I peered toward the stables from my cabinet, the solitary room I used to write my novels. "Perhaps, I need to speak with that stable boy, William Shakespeare, about preparing some new quills as they seem to be in short supply of late... And perhaps I need to change the title of my current ode from 'A Taming of a Shrew' to 'Taming a Contrary Woman.'"

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