WITH HER MOUTH FORCED open, Mildred could not swallow—at least, not without difficulty. She should have spoken her safety word when she had the chance, but some devilry inside her would not permit it to be spoken. But this was not what she wanted, because she knew her body would betray her, would yield to his touch. And then she would be left yearning in body and heart.
But with her arms shackled and stretched above head, how was she to escape? What could she do? Though she agreed that she had to atone for breaking her promise, his imposition infuriated her. Did he not have the slightest pity for her situation? Or did it only matter to him that he was in the right? How had she even come to love this man?
Drawing upon her indignation helped to ease her fears. She had endured three nights with Alastair during Michaelmas. Thus, she could endure a single night at Château Follet.
She hoped.
But, due to the turmoil inside her, her body was on edge in a manner she had never before known. When he brushed the backs of his fingers along her arm, she shivered. His hand came to cup a breast, and she had to close her eyes to refrain from being overwhelmed by the sensation, from wishing he could palm her naked instead. Standing behind her, he covered her bosom with his hands and squeezed the flesh through her stays. She grunted and tried not to let his touch excite her. To teach her a lesson, he would no doubt draw out her arousal, leave her craving for fulfillment while denying her completion.
However, without arousal, the pain would be harder to bear.
His hands roamed her body, caressing her midsection, gripping her hips, pressing her belly, and eventually fondling her between the thighs. She had worn but two layers of petticoats beneath, and she could easily feel his fingers pressing into her through the fabric. She squirmed to loosen his access, but he stilled her with his other arm. One hand clamped down upon a breast; the other rubbed her folds.
No matter how tightly she kept her thighs together she could not stay his penetration. All the while, her calf muscles strained to keep her on her toes so that her weight would not pull upon her arms. Resistance, she suspected, was futile. The firmness of his grasp, his ability to alternate between light and heavy caresses, called to her desire in a manner she had only ever experienced with him.
He pulled up her skirts and grazed her bare thigh, causing the blood to throb in her extremities. She both relished and wanted to evade his touch. It was madness wanting such contradictions, as if her mind was at war with her body.
Gradually, he released her and went about removing the pins from her gown. She closed her eyes. Dear God. She was to be naked before him. The skirt of her gown pooled below her. He then proceeded to untie her petticoats. The bodice of her gown, however, was a challenge, for, with her arms tied above, it could not be slipped off of her. He stepped in front of her, and seeing the fire in his eyes made her melt. There was nothing more titillating than seeing the desire there.
His gaze dropped from hers to the bodice. Undaunted, he gripped the décolletage in both hands and proceeded to rip the gown in half.
She squealed through her gag. Was he mad? She could not believe he would destroy her finest muslin. She tried to move away from him, but it was not easy to move on the tips of one’s toes. The fabric ripped easily beneath his efforts and hung in tatters at her shoulders. Her stays, fortunately, laced in front, so he had but to undo the ribbon. He left her shift alone and went to pick up a flogger.
The falls landed on her derrière first, and she instantly recalled how she had ached at the paddling she received at Michaelmas. Her arse tingled at the memory, and she found herself yearning for a reprisal. After a few mild lashes at her buttocks, the flogger traveled around her thighs, then back to her arse, and up her back. Her body, warmed by his earlier caresses and the kisses of the flogger, was now ready for harsher blows. She yelped when he landed the flogger harder against her, but she found herself wanting the punishment. She wanted what he would do to her.
Tucking the flogger beneath his arm, he stood before her. The shift went the way of her gown. Tearing it open, he exposed her breasts, midsection and pelvis. Her breath quickened through her nose, for breathing through her mouth caused it to dry.
Taking the flogger, he fit the handle between her thighs. She shuddered as the ridges of the handle rubbed against her folds. For several minutes, he sawed the handle between her legs, using it to nudge her clitoris. His gaze did not leave her face, and she succumbed to the look in his countenance, the smolder in his eyes, the firm set of his jaw. The wetness of her desire began to coat the handle of the flogger.
"Remember that you are not to spend without permission," he said as he drew the flogger back.
She moaned. The flogger had distracted her from the stiffness in her calves. She had begun to alternate her weight between her toes and her arms. She caught the reflection of herself, her body stretched toward the rafters, her tattered clothing hanging from her. Only her garters, stockings, slippers, and pearls remained intact.
He grasped a breast, his fingers slowly digging into the ample flesh. Lowering his head, he captured the nipple in his mouth, sending currents to shoot from that bud to the heat collecting between her thighs. Her cunnie ached as he licked and sucked. He performed the same attention upon the other nipple. Soon, she was fit to burst. She wanted the flogger back between her legs—no, she wanted him between her legs.
Releasing the nipple, he went to a set of drawers and pulled out a chain with clamps on either end. Returning, he fixed these to her nipples. She would have ground her teeth at the pinching pain upon her little buds. He tugged on the chain lightly before returning to the chest drawers. He came back with a little weight attached to a hook. He set the weight upon the chain. She screamed as the weight pulled her nipples down.
"Do you require your safety word?"
She could not utter it even if she had not the gag. She breathed through the sharp pressure on her nipples till the initial flare of pain receded to a tolerable but persistent ache.
He repeated his query. She was tempted to nod, but she feared more what happened if she called an end to their engagement. She shook her head. She believed she could survive this.
Until he added the second weight.
She sobbed—no, she could not properly sob with the damned gag—for it felt as if her nipples might be torn off. How was it the clamps did not slip off? Her body bowed and arched in search of release, but the effect of the weights could not be avoided. It was best she not move at all, for the swaying of the weights pulled at her nipples.
Tears pressed against her eyes. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps this time would prove too much for her.