Chapter Three
Tintagel, Cornwall 463 AD
Igraine hung her head. “I didn’t know the horse was unbroken. Indeed, my lord, I am most truly sorry.”
They had been married a month and, although she had heard the servants whisper of Gorlois’ legendary rages, she had never witnessed one. Until now. His face was suffused with rage, his whole body tense with coiled fury as he paced up and down her bedchamber.
“Even I would not dare to ride that horse. Yet you decided to take it along the cliff top. Do you know how close to death you came?”
Igraine attempted to reassure him. “I was in no danger. I have often ridden unbroken horses. It is a talent of mine, even the wildest of creatures become tame with me.”
His anger seemed to abate a little at that and he regarded her thoughtfully. “Why is that?”
“Mayhap it is a talent inherited from my mother, who some say was fae.”
“Who was your mother?”
“I do not know,” Igraine replied truthfully. “It is said she was either faerie or witch who cast a spell upon my father. She died giving birth to me.”
Gorlois regarded her thoughtfully. All trace of anger was gone now and he smiled. It was not a reassuring expression. “I think you weave your own spells, Igraine. But I cannot disregard this matter of the horse.”
“I won’t do it again. I promise.” Would that be sufficient? Something in his face told her it would not.
The smile widened. “Promises won’t work with me, Igraine. You must be punished.”
She swallowed hard. “Punished? How?”
“Come here.” Hesitantly, she took a step closer. Gorlois sat on the edge of the bed. “Lie across my lap.”
“You are going to spank me?” She stared at him in astonishment before tossing her head proudly. “I am not a child to be chastised in such a way.”
“And I am not going to treat you like a child.” His hand snaked out, gripping her wrist. Pulling her to him, he smiled into her eyes and repeated his earlier instruction. “Across my lap, Igraine. Now.”
With her cheeks flaming. Igraine draped herself face down across his muscular thighs. Gorlois’ hands hauled up her skirts until her buttocks were exposed to his gaze.
I hate him. With every fiber of my being I hate this man. Furious, she stared at the rushes on the floor.
His big warm hands slid over the globes of her bottom, squeezing them together and then apart. One long finger pressed against her anus, and she squirmed at the intrusive sensation.
“Not now,” he murmured. “Not this time.”
A yelp of surprise escaped her when, without warning, his hand came down hard in a stinging slap. Mingled tears of pain, humiliation, and anger stung her eyes.
“These sweet cheeks look even prettier with my handprint branding them.” Gorlois voice sounded thick with lust and she squirmed to get away from him. “Not so fast, we’re just getting started.
As he continued his assault with one hand, each blow increasing in severity, his other hand moved beneath her to probe her slit, holding her outer lips apart and examining the warm flesh between them.
Drilling his finger deep into her cunt until she was fully impaled, he withdrew it again and then repeated the action. Over and over. The burning pain of the continuing slaps in contrast to the pleasure of his leisurely probing of her channel made Igraine gasp. Her head spun with a heady combination of emotions.
There was a fire in her buttocks and a matching fire in her cunt. Despite the pain, her thighs quivered and her stomach muscles tightened painfully. Her breasts were crushed against Gorlois’ thighs, her nipples rock hard and hurting. She heard her own voice groaning and felt Gorlois erection pressing against her side.
Abruptly, Gorlois stopped. Tugging her skirts into place, he placed her back on her feet. His smile was pure devilry. “Your punishment is over, Igraine. Next time you want to take out one of my horses, ask me, and I will let you know which are suitable for you to ride.”
She barely heard the words, such was her arousal. How could the pain in her buttocks be so pleasurable? Why did she long for Gorlois to take her in his arms and kiss it better? “But…”
The smile deepened. “Yes?”
“I need…” She bit her lip. “I need you to finish it.”
He started to laugh. “You mean you are aroused?”
Shamefaced, she nodded.
“I see. Well, I’m not sure what I can do about that.”
His enormous erection pressed against his hose, letting her know he was tormenting her for his own enjoyment. “And if you do something about it yourself, I will have to punish you all over again.”
She gnawed on her lip now, half crazy with desire. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think you do. If you decided to finish yourself off, Igraine. I might have to redden that delightful bottom of yours even more.”
Just hearing the words aloud made her wetter, and she groaned. Gorlois’ cock jerked violently in response. Lifting her skirts to her waist with one hand, she widened her stance so that he could watch what she was doing. “You mean if I did this?” Holding her outer lips apart with two fingers, she thrust her hips forward, allowing him a clear view of how wet she was.
His expression was entranced. Lifting his gaze from what her hand was doing, Gorlois nodded. “If you went any further, I would have to punish you again.”
Maintaining eye contact with him, Igraine slid one finger down her over her nub, along her slit, and into her cunt. “Punish me, Gorlois. I’ve been a bad girl.” Her voice was a husky whisper.
He lost control then. Seizing her, her threw her face down onto the bed and raised her with an arm under her hips. She heard him fumble quickly with his clothing and felt the silken head of his cock brush against her thigh. Without warning, he thrust into her from behind so hard her upper body was propelled forward.
Gorlois smoothed his fingers over the heated skin of her buttocks and she nodded, her voice muffled by the mattress. “Yes. God, yes.”
He spread his fingers wide and curled them into her flesh, digging as hard as he could, hurting her exactly the way she wanted him to. She knew he felt the shiver run through her because that was when he began to move.
Soon he was slamming in and out of her, spanking her as hard as he could between thrusts. Igraine barely recognized herself in the creature she had become. She growled, howled, clawed at the coverlet, pushing back against his body and hands, trying to get him to hurt her more while fucking her as hard and fast as he could.
They both came within minutes, and Gorlois pressed her down onto the bed with his body. Igraine arched against him, the abrasive hairs of his abdomen rubbing against her abused flesh. He moved his weight off her and rolled her over, tucking her into the curve of his arm and placing his lips against her forehead. His fingers slid down to her still throbbing nub and he rubbed gently as he kissed her forehead.
“All better now?”
Igraine nodded as she came again.
From then on, no matter where they were, Gorlois only had to whisper the words, “Across my lap, Igraine,” and her cheeks flushed, her nipples hardened, and she became instantly wet as her buttocks longed for the stinging blows of his dominant hand.
Sometimes, God rot him, he would do it when they were in the most public place, leaving her squirming in a frenzy of anticipation for hours until they could be alone and he could grant her the release she craved.
* * *
Tintagel, Cornwall 469 AD
Returning from a lengthy campaign and going straight from the stables to his wife’s bedchamber, Gorlois strode into the room, closing the door behind him. The sight that met his eyes made him pause. Igraine was spread-eagled on the bed, her prominent belly gleaming with scented oil as Marigold massaged her flesh.
Both women were naked. Igraine’s knees were raised, her legs spread wide, and Marigold’s head was buried between them as she lapped eagerly at her mistress’s clitoris. Marigold’s own gleaming pink cunt was delightfully exposed as she knelt with her buttocks in the air. Neither woman had noticed his arrival.
Giving a grunt of satisfaction, Gorlois loosened the cord at the waist of his hose, freeing his cock, which sprang immediately to attention. Without warning, he stepped up to the bed and plunged hilt-deep into Marigold, who gave a little squeal of surprise.
“Continue with your task, wench,” he growled as he pumped his hips, his balls slapping rhythmically against Marigold’s cheeks. “You may service your master and your mistress at the same time.”
Marigold, her body bucking back against him in delight, continued licking and sucking Igraine as Gorlois pounded into her. He shifted position so he could watch his wife’s face. God, she was beautiful. Within minutes, she was coming, arching her back and sighing with pleasure. Gorlois took the opportunity to withdraw from Marigold and tip her onto her back on the bed.
“Join us.” He beckoned to his wife.
Igraine looked at her most beautiful in the last stages of pregnancy as she knelt beside them. She took his cock in her hand, pumping his shaft before placing it against Marigold’s entrance. Marigold, her eyes glazed with longing, lifted her hips eagerly. With a grunt, Gorlois thrust home. Igraine bent her head, tonguing Gorlois’ cock as he pulled out, and Marigold’s nub as he pushed back in.
Nothing could have increased Gorlois’ lust more than this connection to his wife. The woman beneath him was nothing compared to her. He reached for Igraine’s breast and tweaked her nipple, delighting in her indrawn breath.
Marigold squealed and writhed, and Igraine concentrated on her for a final few seconds, until the other woman collapsed, panting on the bed, beneath Gorlois. Feeling his own tingling release approaching, he pulled out of her. Kneeling astride Marigold, he jacked his throbbing cock hard, letting go as he leaned over her. The first stream spilled warm and sticky over her breasts and Marigold sat up, eagerly opening her mouth to catch the remaining spurts.
Now her job was done, Gorlois sent Marigold away and lay back on the bed, studying Igraine. She was a good wife and a devoted mother to their two young daughters. Pregnant now with their third child, she was as beautiful as she had been the day he met her. He wanted her as much now as he had then. His longing for her was an ache he carried with him always.
Maybe it was because she would never truly be his, there was that part of her he would never be able to claim, that he was constantly enthralled by her. Whatever it was, even now, as she fastened her robe about her body and he wiped Marigold’s juices from his cock, he was becoming hard again just looking at her.
“How went the campaign?” Igraine poured ale and brought a tankard to him as he moved into a sitting position.
“Our borders are safe from Saxon insurgents once more. The child is well?”
She dropped a hand to her belly with a smile. “Impatient to be with us, I think. ‘Twill be only a day or two. We must hope for a boy this time.”
He nodded. “His name will be Cador. A fine name for a Cornishman.” He drew her to him, his hands reaching for the tie of her robe. “Is he ready to meet his father this day?”
Igraine blushed at his meaning, her nipples—bigger and darker than usual in her blue veined breasts—hardening instantly. “I think that could be arranged.”
She lay on her side on the bed and Gorlois fitted his body to hers from behind, his hands coming around to cup her plump breasts. She was still wet from Marigold’s ministrations and, raising her knee, he slid two fingers into her. Reaching behind her, Igraine gripped his shaft, bringing him to the entrance of her sex.
Withdrawing his fingers, Gorlois tilted his hips and slid straight in. For him, this was what heaven felt like. Any other man might call it love. Gorlois of Cornwall was not such a man. Tender emotions were beneath him.
He commenced a slow, steady thrust that threatened to rob him of his sanity, dragging his throbbing length back and forth within the grip of her tight muscles. Again and again until Igraine was breathing hard.
“Faster now, Gorlois.”
“Not yet.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth, determined to torture her the way she tortured him every minute of every day. “Did you like watching me fuck your little maidservant?”
Igraine gasped and then nodded her head.
He felt her excitement in the way her muscles tightened around him. “Tell me about it.” He brushed her hair aside, nipping at the tender flesh of her neck with his teeth.
“I loved seeing your huge cock fill her tight, little channel.”
Gorlois groaned. One hand slid down from her breast to her clitoris, and he commenced rubbing in time with his thrusts. “More.”
“It was amazing to watch her face when you drove your hard length in and out. And when you pulled out and spilled your seed in her mouth, I was so overcome, I came just watching you.” Igraine pushed back against him. “Faster, I beg you.”
Obligingly, he pistoned into her, the action so wild he had to hold onto Igraine’s hips to keep her from slipping away from him. Immediately, her muscles spasmed around him, the intensity triggering his own release so that his cock jerked wildly inside her.
When she spoke again, there was a hint of amusement in Igraine’s voice. “Marigold has wanted to feel your cock inside her these many years.”
“She may feel it again one day if ever I feel the need of an urgent fuck and you are otherwise engaged, as you were today.”
He raised himself on one elbow, studying her features as she turned to face him. “I do not count the girl in the same category as a lover. If she pleases you with her hands and her tongue when I am not here, I am happy for that arrangement to continue.
“My warnings to you about other men remain, Igraine. Just because I choose to fuck another does not mean you may do so. Do I make myself clear?”
Did he imagine the shadow that darkened the blue of her eyes? Was it anger or something more? Could it have been fear? It was gone before he could say it had been there at all. Igraine nodded her head. “Perfectly clear, Gorlois.”