Taming Saffina

by Flora Dain

  “You like to see a punished ass, sir?” I twisted my head to grin up at him, curious now. I wanted show him I wasn’t afraid, that I’d take any punishment he cared to give. But my quivering ass and the tremor in my voice were already giving me away.

  I want this so much.

  He kept his hand firmly and deliberately on my bottom. But now he was doing strange things to me with his hand, burning me up. He lingered with his fingers, his touch sure, both soothing and stirring at once. I moaned as he slipped his middle finger deeply into me. It moved gently, questing along my quivering folds.

  He leaned over to whisper into my ear.

  I shivered at the feel of his hot breath on my neck. I half expected him to chide me for insolence or even sneer at my plight. I must look ridiculous bent over like this. He’d have guessed by now that I was no prissy little miss—and certainly no dignified lady.

  But his reaction surprised me.

  “Keep quiet.” His soft murmur sent a chill through me. The thrust of his finger deep in my slit made me yelp. But then, using his thumb, he prodded my tightly furled little bud and surged straight up inside me.

  I gasped in shock and outrage. How dare he…?

  At the same moment, a wave of arousal flashed through me like a thunderbolt. I parted my lips and snatched in a lungful of air to yell in protest. Instantly he clamped his free hand down hard on my mouth.

  “Silence. You speak only when I say so. Nod if you understand.”

  Breathless, I nodded. Now he thrust deeper, using his fingers to quest gently. For long, stunning seconds he explored my secret places, his fingertips parting my special folds like the petals on a flower and exposing my pulsing, swollen little bud. And all the time he kept moving his thumb, thrusting in deep and working its magic in a place I’d never, ever expected to be felt.

  I heard him sigh.

  “Excellent. Madame Junot canes you often?”

  I nodded, panting now. To my shame, I felt wetness pool as he fondled, little flames flickering all over me. His fingers eased in deeper. I heard him chuckle. Somehow it was not the light, careless laughter of a gentleman. It sounded deeper, throaty and triumphant.

  A snarl of real pleasure.

  “And what’s this? Still a virgin? Delicious.”

  He took his other hand away from my mouth. Still bent over, I could see his polished boots, barely inches from my face. And now something else—the end of a shiny, braided riding crop. He was tapping it gently on the gleaming leather of his boot.

  Each sharp little snap sent a tiny spike of alarm—and a big bite of arousal—straight to my groin.

  “Can you keep silent or shall I gag you?”

  “I’ll yell all I want, sir, and be damned to you.”

  The instant slash of pain on the back of my thighs made me shriek.

  “Silence. That settles it. A gag. Or better still…a bridle.”

  He stepped away for a moment then dangled something hard and cold in my face. I mewled in protest at the sight of bright, unforgiving metal—a horse’s bit. He held it up to his face and sniffed. “Mm. Vinegar and lemon? Your groom cleans his tack thoroughly. Open.”

  He thrust the horrible thing into my mouth and pulled it tightly. In seconds he’d buckled the strap behind my hair. I felt a heavy weight on my back as he bunched the rest of the harness into an untidy heap. I was trussed in leather, caught as fast as a rabbit in a snare.

  Outrage made me thrash in my bonds.

  He slashed again. “Now keep still or I’ll bind you tighter.”

  Unable to speak, I waited in silent, helpless horror while he took up position behind me. In the patch of sunlight on the straw-scattered floor I saw the shadow of his arm rise, the cruel whip high in the air. With a loud crack, it landed on my rump.

  I jerked against the rope, making the ladder rattle. I clenched my teeth to stifle a shout. I’d be damned if I’d let Madame hear me cry out. I bet anything she was right outside the barn door, gloating.

  Bitch. She had her revenge on me now, for sure…

  With sickening certainty, the whip landed again. I heard him hiss through his teeth. He waited full seconds while my pain flowered and bloomed before the whip whistled once more through the air.

  Again and again it fell. Soon the barn around me grew hazy as tears stung and brimmed, melting the scene into shimmering sunlight.

  At last it was done. In the silence I hauled in air as he felt me again with his hand cool now on my punished rump, his breathing ragged.

  “Good. You took that well. And what’s this?”

  Now he’d discovered what I’d hoped to hide—my real shame—as his hand slipped in deeper. Treacherous, lustful juices flooded his fingers. I tensed, waiting for an angry reaction. Instead I heard him give a long sigh.

  But now I was panting. If he did this for much longer, I would come. Arousal had leaped at the first sensual touch of his fingers, so much more warm and disturbing than my own.

  Now desire burned all over me in a continuous, nagging throb, made worse at every jolt of his whip. I am so close…

  And if I came, he might hit me some more—just like she did—or, horror of horrors, he’d tell her. Then maybe she’d guess the reason I misbehaved so often and finally hit on the one punishment I dreaded—she’d stop the whippings.

  He seemed to sense my turmoil. He slipped the horrid bit out of my mouth for a moment, leaving the heavy harness still in place. “What’s the matter, child? You may speak.”

  “Please, sir, I’m so close…”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “And?”

  “It’s just… Madame says…” I paused, scarlet.

  He squatted down on his haunches facing me, his face close to mine. His long, fine hands draped idly on his knees. The whip balanced lightly in his fingers, still quivering.

  “She says what?”

  Once more I caught a whiff of his scent and the fierce smell of maleness. I swallowed, sweating now. “She…she whips me even harder if I come. She calls me a slut. Une putain,” I added, hot with shame. Not at my desires, I’d slake them how I pleased. I cared little what others thought. But at having to confess this to a stranger. And a gentleman.

  To my fury he laughed, showing fine, white teeth. I winced as he seized one of my breasts and pinched my nipple hard. “She’s right. So you seem. But you took that well. You now have beautiful stripes on your ass and you made no noise, so you may come. But if you do, you must thank me. Will you do that?”

  I blinked. Now I saw him up close, it struck me he was exceptionally fine looking. His dark eyes pierced mine with a rare gleam of cold, hard intelligence. His tilted eyebrows gave the hard lines of his face a certain delicacy. His smile softened the arrogance of his classical profile without dissolving into the pudgy leer of Isaac or the local farmers.

  An aristocrat then, for all his racy reputation…and he wanted an answer.

  He’ll make me come? If he did that, he deserved thanks indeed.

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered shyly. “And…are you going to…breach me?”

  Was this too brazen? I was risking much today. But if he was in the mood…? I certainly was, more than ever. Why use a groom when I could have the master—and a lord to boot?

  His eyes flashed. “Deuce, ma’am, your governess was right. You are indeed without shame. Take my pleasure in a barn? What do you take me for? One of your stable louts? Come, we’ll clean you up. You have a maid? If not, my valet can do it.”

  His valet? My temper flared. “I have several maids, sir. And I’ll thank you to untie me.”

  He arched an eyebrow. I saw his nostrils flare, like he sensed victory.

  “I give the orders here. We were discussing my reward, I think.”

  “Untie me, sir. This is beyond a joke.”

  His hand landed on my bottom with a crash, making me cry out. “You think this a joke? Do I look like a prankster? Now keep quiet.”

  He jingled the bit again. I jerked my head away, but I was
tightly trussed and still bent over, hands tied firmly at my back.

  He looked on with a faint smile. “Going somewhere, ma’am? I think not. I’ll allow you to straighten up a little. Just enough to walk.”

  He loosened the straps and raised me up. He smiled down at me, his lip curling. As I eased myself upright, he wrenched the straps tight again, hauling my arms behind me. His eyelids lowered.

  “Now we’ll go into the house. I’ve had a hard ride. I badly need my valet. And my mount badly needs your groom—possibly more than you did. Come.”

  With that he turned to the door. He lifted the heavy crossbar and pulled it open. It creaked on its hinges, revealing the open courtyard.

  Beyond I saw bright sunlight gleam on the cobbles. Past that, two neat rows of servants lined up at the entrance to the Hall.

  Waiting to be presented to their master.

  I stared at him. “But…you must untie me, sir. How can I go in like this? What will they think?”

  He swept me with a glance of steel. “I daresay they’ll think you’re a harlot—or a fool. Perhaps both. Madame Junot was close to the mark.” With an angry thrust he replaced the bit in my mouth and hauled on the leading rein.

  Now speech was impossible. So was escape. He strode toward the open doorway, keeping firm hold on the rein. It grew taut then jerked me into movement.

  I stumbled after him, trussed like a chicken and clearly mute.

  The astonished looks of the servants set the seal on my shame. To make things worse, my guardian took no more notice of me than of a pony. He greeted all the staff at his leisure, sharing a joke with the butler, pausing for a word with the flustered housekeeper.

  He seemed blithely unaware of their horrified glances at me as I tottered after him. At last, his greetings done, he turned with a careless wave of the hand. His deep voice sounded easy and casual. “Lady Saffina fell into some tack. I’ll see to her myself. Take her to the Jade Room.”

  Chapter Three

  “No grog? What, no money? Then get some. You’re twelve now. Old enough to thieve, damn you…”

  The Jade Room? What was that?

  They led me to a wing of the house I’d never seen before. It had always been kept locked. I guessed these were my guardian’s apartments.

  Madame supervised as two burly servants bundled me into the room. When they’d gone, she made me kneel in the middle of the floor.

  She surveyed me, her black eyes sharp with triumph. “Now you will learn your lesson, milady. If you think me strict, you are in for a shock. Keep your eyes on the chair.”

  As she closed the door softly behind her, I tried to look unconcerned. In truth I was beginning to falter. I looked all round—or as far as I could manage, trussed as I was—scared, but curious.

  The room was done out in the new Chinese style and sparsely furnished. The walls were lined in green silk, the furniture and the floor dark, polished wood. A heavy carved chest stood against the wall directly opposite. It held three large, polished ornaments carved from green soapstone. They were tall and imposing, one tapered at the top and one bulbous, like a phallus. The third was a tower of polished beads in jade and agate, graded in size with the largest at the bottom. They looked exotic and outlandish.

  Some kind of foreign art? Keepsakes from his travels, perhaps.

  I could smell incense. It came from a heavy bronze burner shaped like a dragon.

  The great chair in front of me had carved dragon legs, heavy armrests and a thick bolt of damask draped across the arms. It fell almost to the floor, completely obscuring the seat.

  But what lay across it chilled my blood. Propped up on the richly embroidered satin, I saw the riding crop.

  And as I looked at it, I knew for certain this would hurt. And the more I thought that, the wetter I grew. Soon a certain part of me was glowing white-hot with arousal. In spite of my fear, I was soon eaten up with excitement. I yearned to know what came next. At the same time, I dreaded it.

  An awkward mix. My confusion deepened at the thought of his lean jaw and the memory of his questing, intelligent fingers. How I longed to free my arms.

  Still cruelly tied, I throbbed even harder.

  At last I heard the door open and softly close again. Lord Endale appeared, every inch the gentleman. His fresh clothes made me feel even worse.

  My dusty gown was smeared and rumpled. Wisps of scratchy straw stuck to my skirts. By contrast he looked elegant and urbane, his cravat crisply folded, his tailoring immaculate. His dark hair was neatly combed. Traces of silver gleamed at his temples.

  His first act was one of mercy. He removed the bit from my mouth. Then, sweeping me with a cool glance, he leaned against the heavy dresser.

  He drew a letter out of his cuff, unfolded it and began to read.

  “Lady Saffina is beautiful, willful in the extreme and lustful beyond her years. She frots herself with abandon. When I catch her at it, I cane her. When I cane her, she begs for more and frots again. She makes free with the servants and behaves more like a whore than a lady. She has much talent for pleasure, but she must be tamed.”

  My cheeks burned as my guardian’s rich, velvet-deep voice read aloud.

  On the paper I recognized Madame’s handwriting. Spying bitch. I might have known.

  Lord Endale surveyed me for a moment, his expression dark and amused. “As instructed, Madame Junot wrote to me often. I read her reports with interest.”

  I snorted. “Why do you humiliate me by sending me a spy for a governess, sir?”

  He held my gaze, his expression thoughtful. “I have the greatest respect for her judgment, as I do for your appetites. And I suggest you mind your manners. Have you anything else to say, ward?”

  Still on my knees, I glared up at him. In the back of my head a tiny warning signal flickered. Rashly, I ignored it. “I’m of age now. I’ll do as I please. And you and your snake of a spy can go to the deuce. And how dare you shame me like that in front of the servants. What will they think? How can I command them when you’ve exposed me so cruelly?” Now hot, furious tears sprang unbidden.

  He leaned over, his face close to mine. His eyes flashed.

  I flinched back, expecting a blow.

  “From what I hear, it’s long overdue. And you can expect plenty more during my stay here. You humiliate yourself by your shows of temper. Your servants are your family. Persons of our rank depend on their skills and their goodwill. Without them, we are nothing. You must choose them with care and treat them with respect.”

  I must? This was all new to me. Hot shame burned in my cheeks. I’m being harsh? How dreadful.

  He took my chin in his hand and inspected my face, his gaze thoughtful and remote.

  His hand was warm and firm. His jaw had a faint aroma of spice. His touch was having a strange effect and so was his deep, piercing look.

  I felt tiny shivers prickle all over my skin.

  “You’ve much to learn. But you interest me greatly, child—so carnal, so young. You’ll go far. But Madame Junot was right. You must be tamed or you’ll waste your charms. One of the first rules of pleasure is to learn when to feast—and when to fast.”

  A faint smile played at the corners of his lips. “I shall enjoy bringing you to heel. And to enlighten you on one small point, you inherit your full fortune when you are twenty-five. That happy day is still some years away. Now that you are eighteen, you receive a small allowance, but you remain in my care until you inherit or marry. Now to business. You may stand.”

  He helped me up. With swift movements of his long fingers, he unhitched the straps and freed me from my harness. He flung it a few feet away. It clattered into an untidy heap.

  I rubbed my arms where the straps had bitten into my flesh. As I glanced up, I saw his eyes gleam. Not knowing what to make of this, I stopped, feeling a little awkward now. My hands fell to my sides.

  His stern gaze intensified. The silence between us grew heavy with menace. Now he took up the whip. He watched me steadily
as he snapped it gently against his palm.

  Excitement and fear surged. The effect down below was instant and mortifying. I felt wetness pool again.

  “Now we will examine Madame Junot’s claims. You pleasure yourself? How? Tell me.”

  I swallowed but stayed defiant. “Yes, sir. I see no harm in it. It helps me to sleep. She thinks—”

  He waved me to silence. “I know what she thinks. I want to know what you think. Show me.”

  I stared. “Show you, my lord? What, now?”

  He stepped close and tilted my chin, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “What’s the matter? Not so lusty with someone watching? Why not? Surely that adds extra spice? First, an experiment. You permit?”

  I gazed into his fine eyes, my own wide and bewildered. What now? What permission was he was asking?

  Without warning he lowered his head and touched his lips to mine. He tasted softly, his lips warm and stirring. He slid his tongue along my lips and lingered, insistent.

  At last I parted my own.

  He melded the soft inner flesh of his mouth onto mine. All at once I was in his arms, pressed hard against him. He locked his mouth on mine, fierce and intruding and surged his tongue into me. My will, so fierce moments before, turned to jelly. My arousal burned hot.

  He kissed me long and deeply, controlling me more firmly with his mouth than any bridle. The little flames that sparked every time this strange, powerful man drew near me now sprang fully to life. As I melted into his embrace they threatened to burn me up.

  He pulled me close to him, parting my legs with his thigh and holding me fast with one arm. With his free hand he explored my secrets. He slid his fingers into all the tiny folds and creases he’d discovered earlier. But now he found them even slicker with lust, even more eager for his entry.

  As he pulled away, he looked pleased. He smiled. “Delicious. All I’d hoped. Now show me how you pleasure yourself. Lean back across the arms of the chair. Pull up your skirts. Free your breasts so I can watch them bloom. I want to see the full effect.”