Author's note- Here's the steaminess ;)


Guy continued to drag Catrine into a chamber within the dungeon, a room filled with a single long table and a few chairs. Catrine looked around in wonder; despite working for the Sheriff with Guy for over a year now, she had never really experienced the dungeon. Nor had she seen this room. "What is this place, Guy?" she asked as he closed the door.

"A room for my own private use when I'm… preoccupied… with business down here," his voice was soft but intense still. He turned to look at his wife, "What did you think you would accomplish, Catrine, by interfering with my work?" He took two steps towards her. She could hear his anger still in his voice, his clenched fists still shaking in rage.

Catrine trembled, remembering a moment much like this before. She never wanted to experience that ever again, never wanted to incur his wrath like that again. "Guy," she murmured walking forward to meet him. "Think, Guy," her voice shook as she fumbled to find his gloved hands at his sides, "no amount of beating, no amount of violence will persuade the King's own marshal to tell us anything." She couldn't bring herself to meet his look; she continued to speak as soothingly as she could, "The only way to find out how he escaped is to see if he will try it again."

Still shaking, Catrine felt his gloved hands wrap around her back, wandering over her and finally giving her own butt a gentle squeeze. "You are right, of course, my love," he leaned in to whisper in her ear. Finally she looked into his eyes, feeling that his rage was beginning to fade. "But how do make sure that he doesn't escape again?"

"Simple," Catrine smiled, "This time, we don't leave the castle until he hangs lifeless from the gallows. This time, we make sure someone is always watching over him, monitoring his every move, every single movement he makes in his cell." Catrine backed out of his encircling arms, "You may even want to tell your guards exactly that, Sir Guy," she smirked, "but that's only a suggestion, my love. After all, I have done enough interfering with your work for one day."

Guy chuckled and turned to open the door, calling to his men outside. Catrine looked around the room again—a room little better than an actual cell, she decided. While Guy still ordered his men at the door, Catrine moved to the head of the table, seating herself on top, straightening her dress around her.

Closing the door, Guy turned around to see Catrine turn her head to face him, smiling at him from her perch on the table. She leaned back, placing her hands on the table top behind her, "And now… Guy… we settle in for a long night of watching and waiting."

He smiled, "You could retire to a real bed for the night, if you wish, my love. I know just how uncomfortable it can be here." He walked over to her, placing his hands on either side of her, "though it does get… rather lonely here… by myself… at night." Leaning in towards her, Guy felt her lips hungrily find his, feeling her hand leave the table to stroke his cheek. Her lips parted, letting him find her tongue, entwining with his with equal passion. He leaned in harder and felt her buckle beneath him, her hand flying from his face back to the table for support.

Then she smiled beneath his kiss, and she lay down along the table's length, pulling at Guy's collar to drag him with her. Guy quickly placed his knee on the tabletop beside her and willingly followed her down, feeling her heaving with desire beneath him.

Catrine broke from the kiss, guiding his mouth to her neck instead as she tried to catch her breath. Her bodice dug into her, the boning driving into her skin. Placing her hand on Guy shoulder, she propped herself up on the other elbow and pushed him up. He kneeled over her, straddling her waist beneath him.

Catrine silently smiled as she found his hand, guiding it around to her back, finding the taught ties of her bodice. Guy chuckled, realizing what she wanted. He took one gloved hand to his face and removed it with his teeth, letting the glove fall to the floor beside the table. He reached his bare hand around her, and he quickly unlaced the laces from behind her, finally tossing the bodice to a nearby chair. Catrine breathed deeply without the restriction. Her hand wandered to his still gloved hand, guiding it to her mouth where she bit the leather with her teeth, drawing the glove off slowly, finger by finger with her mouth. Guy smirked down at her, finally removing the glove from his hand and tossing it beside the other.

Then with a slight smile on her face, she laid back down and began to lightly touch his thighs. She traced higher and higher with each stroke, eventually pressing into his groin hard, massaging him until she felt his arousal beneath his leather pants. Guy groaned, shutting his eyes for a moment. Catrine began to unlace the ties, and Guy's eyes flashed open. He slapped her hands away.

A dark smile crossed his face, that smile that made Catrine shiver in both fear and pleasure. He moved off of her and off the table, leaving her still panting on the tabletop. She smiled and closed her eyes, her muscles tightening in anxiety and anticipation. Not wanting to open her eyes, Catrine listened as Guy's footsteps crossed the room. Then the jingle of heavy metal jolted her. Opening her eyes, she saw Guy smirk above her, holding a pair of shackles in his hands.

Catrine gave a nervous laugh, "Guy… wha-"

Guy put his hand firmly over her mouth, a hard sneer over his face, "The prisoner is not to speak. Understand?" He roughly released his hand from her face. "Now," his eyes glimmered in the candle light, "you will do exactly as I say… or else." His voice was hard and cold with anger once more.

Catrine shook, hoping he was only playing, hoping his anger was only pretend. Guy walked around to the head of the table and gently removed her shoes from her feet, his touch light as he caressed up her calf. His fingers traced up underneath her knees, so gentle she could barely feel him.

Then with no warning, his hands gripped her legs hard and pulled her towards him over the rough table. Catrine cried out in shock, her back dragged along the table in a matter of seconds, her hips now aligned with the table's edge. She felt along her back, searching for splinters or blood, her breath catching in her throat from pain and shock.

Guy leaned in over her, a hard smirk over his face, "Sit up," he barked. She did. And immediately Guy found her hands, roughly forcing them behind her back. The cool metal of the shackles enclosed around her wrists and the chain of the shackles clinked with each movement. Two clicks, and Catrine could no longer move her hands, the chain pulling her arms tightly against her side from around her back. She couldn't catch her breath, fear closing her throat.

"Guy…" she choked out. He met her trembling lips with a kiss, hungry but gentle too, his fingers brushing through her hair. Catrine broke from the kiss, more assured that this wasn't serious, though she still shuddered with fear.

Guy smiled and leaned in to kiss her again. Catrine closed her eyes and felt his knee separate her legs, which hung over the table edge. He pushed her down to the table again, and Catrine whined in pain at her bonds, straining against them beneath her back. "Guy, you do remember that I am your wife?" Catrine asked, meeting his steely gaze where he stood between her legs.

He sniffed, "Of course I do." His fingers began to trace up her thigh, lifting the dress above her waist, "And I have waited a long time to do this…"

Catrine closed her eyes as his fingers traced higher and higher. Finally, his fingers entered into her, stroking along the top of her vagina to her clit. Catrine began breathing raggedly, still fighting her bound hands and making the metal chain clink and rub against the wooden table with every motion. He continued to touch her, pressing harder and harder in circles. Catrine closed her eyes, allowing her body to respond to his touch, letting her hips rock and move uncontrollably, and feeling her muscles beginning to tighten.

But then he stopped. She opened her eyes, looking up at the stone ceiling, tensing as she wondered what would come next; she bit her lip in anxiety and impatience.

She heard him sniff once softly, then she felt his hands forcing her legs apart even wider. With a gasp, Catrine felt him enter her, roughly bracing his hands against her hips as he thrusted deeper the next time. The table shook as he moved within her, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure and pain down Catrine's back. She felt him thrust faster, softly grunting with each movement. He began thrusting so deep and so hard, Catrine felt herself grind against the wood, trying to brace herself by digging her fingernails into the table under her back. His hands tightened on her hips, and he pulled her back towards the edge of the table, thrusting at the same time. Catrine cried sharply in pain as he entered her too deeply. She felt the tension beginning to rise inside her again; she closed her eyes and brought her legs up around Guy.

With a snarl, Guy forced her legs down again and thrusted even faster. Catrine felt herself tightening, warm tension spreading everywhere along her. Her muscles spasmed in their tightness, and Catrine uttered a deep moan as he continued his relentless thrusting, the friction even greater in her climax. Finally she began to relax, feeling the tense pleasure subside from her muscles. Guy still clawed into her hips, pounding his way into her quickly and deeply. She tried to wrap her legs around him one more time. This time, he let her, and with a few final thrusts, he groaned in pleasure too, gripping his fingers into her hipbones and making her squirm in pain.

Breathing heavily from his mouth, Guy smirked and looked down at Catrine. "Now," he panted, "now you know what happens… when you interfere in my work…"

Catrine smiled, tightening her legs around his waist and forcing him to stay within her longer. "If this is what I get for interfering, my love…" she said, running her legs up and down his back, "then I'd like to join you at work more often."

Guy laughed, running his hands up her thighs to her knees, "That can be arranged," he whispered.