Saffina's Season

by Flora Dain

  Not him, it seemed.

  “I’m waiting.”

  Knowing he liked to see my breasts full and pink, I worked both my nubs for a moment. They stiffened quickly, partly from excitement, partly in fear. Taking a calming breath, I closed my eyes tightly and waited.

  “Open your eyes. I want you to watch.” His murmur made me shiver. His tone had an edge I’d not heard in a while.

  Quivering, I did so. The snap of the whip was worse than the sting, but I jumped as it landed, startled by the flick.

  His reactions had lost none of their speed, nor his wrist its force.

  I licked my lips as arousal burned.

  He frowned. “Easy. You seem edgy. What made you so late?”

  Relief pounded through me. So that was all?

  “Why, when I left Lady Carstairs, I…” I broke off in confusion. I was forgetting something.

  I’d stayed to look at Martin’s paintings.

  My mind raced. I was looking at paintings because a young man had saved me from a gang. And I’d run into a gang because Jacquard’s coachman was comforting Pérot, my footman, in tears over a kitten.

  If Jacquard learned all this, he’d very likely send them both packing. For all his respect for his staff, Jacquard’s concern for my safety was absolute. The risk I’d taken, lingering in the street, could lose them both their positions.

  Worse, if I mentioned paintings, Jacquard might wonder why, then recall his coming birthday and suspect I planned one for a gift.

  Best say nothing.

  “I…came out early for some air, sir. The street was filled with other coaches waiting for the ladies to leave. I…missed our coachman.”

  He frowned. “Why come out early? Did you upset someone? Did they upset you?” His expression grew serious. His quiet murmur was a shock.

  “No, sir. I heard a few catty remarks.” I fought back a smile, still full of my triumph. “I laughed it off.”

  “You must take care. These evenings are for more than our amusement. We need to build some social standing while we’re here. Think of our son.”

  “I think of him all the time.” I frowned. “But surely the Endale name—”

  “What? Opens all doors? Far from it. It closes many, including the most important. And Lady Carstairs’ door is usually one of them.” He fingered the whip. “And I still want to know where you went.”

  “Why, sir?”

  He leaned forward, his face close to mine. “Because I think you’re lying.”

  I held his gaze, fighting the urge to shrink back. “I trust you in all things, sir. And now you must trust me. I did lie, just a little. But I have my reasons, and I must ask you not to press me on the matter.”

  He met my statement with startled silence. When he spoke, his tone was soft. “As you will. But in the Leather Room you have a lesson to learn, and I mean to apply it. Get up. Take hold of the bedpost.”

  Slowly I did so. On the polished wood, my hands felt sticky. As I gripped, he came up behind me and stooped down, pulling my ankles wide apart.

  “Bend over.”

  As I did it, he leaned over me, his face close to my skin, and he dropped a long, hot kiss on my neck. The heat of his mouth made me throb. He pulled back my hair and left more hot kisses in the curve of my neck and a little way down my spine. With a final, cruel nip of his teeth on one side of my quivering rump, he straightened up to pronounce my doom.

  “Six strokes. And if you cry out, two more. The capital is no place for a wealthy woman to roam the streets at night, unless she’s a harlot. And next time you wander the streets alone, you can expect even worse. If you get back here in one piece, that is. Let this be a lesson.”

  As each stroke fell, I jerked hard against the posts, biting my lip to stop crying out. I managed it—just—but it took all my strength. The whip fell with a harsh bite that I’d missed for months. The sting flared and spread, firing dark, disturbing flames in all my tender places, setting up a fierce, harsh glow that I’d missed also.

  Soon my backside was on fire, along with all my soft, moist private region. Waves of heat rippled through my lower belly. The throbbing, yearning gap between my thighs grew numb with need.

  I told myself that my husband was simply angry. He was well within his rights to do this, even without the part it played in our private world of saucy fun.

  Somehow that made my eagerness for it all the more wicked. The causes of his anger I’d deal with later. For now, blatant lust consumed me, a red mist of longing sending waves of heat all through me at his every look and touch.

  Our courtship had been brief and dramatic. Jacquard’s urge to discipline me and my delight in it had led us both to the heights—or the depths—of the darker pleasures. But lately his control had relaxed. Life in the country, in his vast estate at Endale Hall, was blissfully idyllic. As busy parents, our life was full and easy. Maybe he needed more excitement.

  Maybe I do too.

  Sweat prickled all over as the sting of the blows blended into a hot, golden glow. I quivered, waiting for his next move. Deep down inside, the heat of the pain was fusing into raw, urgent lust. A throbbing, steady drumbeat was swelling my soft places and making them ache. I longed for his touch, any touch. The slightest brush of his fingers would grant me release. I should surely explode…

  Please, please.

  As I leaned on the bedpost, panting, he towered beside me, the whip propped carelessly against his shoulder.

  “One reason we’re doing this is to warn you to take more care in the capital. We’re not in the country now. You must never linger in the streets or walk alone at night. Pérot will look after you.”

  “He was there, sir, but the street was crowded. We missed each other. It was not his fault,” I added quickly.

  Jacquard’s jaw clenched. My heart sank. There was more to come.

  “You already feel guilty? Good. Then let’s hope this warning also sinks in. There are many distractions here for unwary females, whether married or not. You have a position to maintain. You must take care of it.”

  “You mean I’m to behave in a certain way? I assure you, sir, if I flirt or dance with others, it’s purely in fun. Everyone does it.”

  He flexed the whip, running his long fingers over the handle. I felt excitement pulse.

  “My new countess is bound to cause a stir, but be wary of traps.” For a moment he looked troubled. When his eyes met mine, the flash of pain I saw there surprised me.

  “Traps?”

  He touched his lips to mine, his breath hot on my cheek. “Like rising too fast to the bait they throw you. Your spat with Lady Hornsea, for instance? News of it reached the club within minutes. The members were all agog. She’s a close friend of the prince. He splits opinion. You’re now a hit with some, an enemy to others.”

  “That’s just politics,” I snorted. “I don’t care what people think. She deserved it.” I scowled, still indignant. “She threw out a defenseless kitten. She—”

  “Enough.” His sudden fury took me aback. It silenced me more surely than his fingertip on my lips. “She had every right to rebuke you if you were sharp with her mama.” His lip curled at my shocked look. “Surprised? In the clubs, good news and bad gossip travel fast. Politics count here. Next time, take more care. Now to business. Two more strokes on each of your thighs, to drive home my point. Then we’ll try something new.”

  Excitement surged. Something new? We’d tried many things, most of them wicked, all of them delicious…

  But he was giving instructions.

  “Lean your elbows on the edge of the bed. Put your head down. Ass up, legs straight. Spread your feet wider, or I’ll tie you.”

  His expression hardened. When I was positioned to his satisfaction, the crash of the first blow made my eyes water. In the pause that followed, I felt as if a drumbeat pounded between my legs. Juices pooled in my needy slit.

  Seconds later, he discovered this. His fingers lingered for glorious seconds deep in my slic
k, twitching little folds while he tested my responses, his breath hot along my back as he leaned over me.

  His appreciative whisper eased through me like soothing cream. I trembled, dreading that the last traces of my monthly shame might spoil the moment. To my relief, my aroma stayed sweet.

  “You’re swollen and luscious, my sweet. Perfection itself. Hold the position. I’m adding a little spice.”

  I felt cool air on my back as he leaned away from me for a moment. I heard the click of a box and a faint chiming sound, like the thin chime of silver cutlery.

  “Here, you’ll wear these for the rest of the evening.”

  He dangled two silver balls in front of my face. They were lightly carved with strange patterns. They hung on a thin strip of leather.

  I swallowed. “What are they, sir?”

  “Rin-no-tama,” he murmured. “Pleasure balls. Most stimulating. A trifle I brought back from the East. They go into your passage to heighten your pleasure. Regular use also strengthens your muscles, which, in turn, ensures mine. I am going to insert them. You must clutch them in. But first, you must make them wet. Open your mouth.”

  They filled my mouth, the silver warming quickly. Were they also to stifle my cries? While I tensed for more blows, he slipped his hand deep between my legs, his touch warm, his fingers penetrating and sure. He explored me, easing his fingers everywhere until I was moaning and slippery.

  I prayed again that my time of the month had completely passed. But too late to protest now. I hardly cared any more.

  With a shuddering breath, I gave myself over to pleasure, trusting in the shadows thrown by the candles to hide any lingering traces.

  I whimpered as he slid out again and teased my tiny, tingling center, sliding around it in a sensual, intimate sweep. I felt tears of emotion well up as the glow from my whipping blended with the tenderness of his fingers, easing me ever closer to climax. Just as I thought I should have to choke on the wretched balls or spit them out to take a breath, he gently removed them.

  “Hold still.”

  He slipped them up inside me, one after the other. He teased my opening as he slid his fingers in, but once they were inside, all I felt was pressure. As I moved I heard a muffled echo of their chime from deep in my belly, a signal to him that I was in a state of submission, both inside and out.

  The thought made me freshly wet. Clutching them in might be harder than I’d imagined.

  “Now get down on your knees.” With a lazy smile he sat on the bed in front of me, his thighs at either side of my head. He ran a hand down my cheek, his look warm. “Hands behind your back.”

  I guessed now what was coming. In seconds he’d freed himself. His need now loomed fully before me in the form of his towering cockstand, glossy and hot, the skin stretched so tight that it glowed. Delicious. I saw his eyes flicker.

  “Now me.”

  As he guided the head of his cock into my mouth, I felt a tremor all through me. Submission came easily to some people, never to me. I’d been headstrong and willful all my life. I prided myself on it. But somehow Jacquard threw all that out of the window. With him I became as meek as the kitten I’d saved.

  I lunged and sucked, licked and surged, and within minutes, his cry of pleasure told me that his leather rose had worked its murky magic. I was punished. He was pleasured.

  He held my head in his hands for a few moments more, as if unwilling to let me go, his expression so tender that my tears sprang again. When he spoke, his voice was low. “Now I have another surprise for you. And while you enjoy it, let’s see how many times I can make you come.”

  Chapter Four

  What now?

  Walking with those things tinkling inside me was hard. Enduring his dark, amused looks as I chimed softly, my muffled music a very public sign of my private torment, even harder.

  I felt a tremor run through me

  What next?

  My husband and lover was older than me, an expert in many things—pleasure most of all. And his taste for discipline far outstripped my lust for it. When the mood took him, he could be as cruel as any gang-master, as harsh as any martinet. Unexpected tenderness, meant to soften the sting of the whip, often made me weep. By now I guessed the sight and the taste of my tears heightened his pleasure.

  “Not so lusty after a short, sharp taste of leather?” His lazy smile sent a glow all through me. At the same time, I felt a prickle of new fear.

  My lust was all his delight, my hunger all his pleasure. But my torment was his constant joy. Provoking him, even after two years of marriage, could be dangerous.

  “Where are we going, sir?”

  He pulled me close with one arm and folded a hand around my punished breast, his fingers warm and firm. As his finger and thumb closed on my nipple to pinch it to full pride, I shuddered.

  “We’re going out onto the balcony. I’ve got something to show you.”

  As he opened the tall windows leading out onto the balcony overlooking the park, I shivered, partly from excitement, despite the soft, mild air of a late May night. He kept his arm firmly around my shoulders, shielding my nakedness with the satin drape.

  “Fireworks?” I laughed in delight and surprise as color exploded all over the sky.

  He folded his arm around me and pulled me close. “It’s to celebrate the news about the regent’s new mistress. The fireworks are to signal he’s made his choice, but, for now, he wants to keep her name a secret.”

  “The regent’s lovers are of no interest to me, sir. From what I heard, he changes his women as often as his linen.”

  Jacquard’s soft chuckle stirred in my hair as he laid his head close to mine. “The display is simply a sideshow. I thought it might amuse you. We’re not done yet. Bend over and hold on to the rail. Spread your legs.”

  “What’s that tune, sir? The fireworks also have music? We could have gone out to watch them. I can see people down there in the park.”

  “We can see perfectly well from here. I turned down an invitation to join the royal party. I plan to make music of our own.”

  As he spoke, he nudged my thighs apart with his knee. I leaned forward and opened my legs a little, relishing his touch as he started feeling my warm, quivering backside with firm sweeps of his long fingers. He murmured in my ear, “Bend lower and spread your ass, my love. Your music is more enchanting than any violins.”

  And now I understood. With a gasp I felt him push the broad, bold head of his cock into my tiniest opening, clenched all the tighter as I tried to manage the tinkling silver balls. With my one place so thrillingly filled and their muffled chimes our only music, he now edged up into my other, forbidden place, spreading one hand over my bulging, tormented breasts and slipping the other into my tightness.

  The riot of sensations from so much all at once made me gasp.

  “Must I keep these things in, sir? They feel—” I broke off, unsure what to say.

  “They feel—what?” He sounded husky.

  I bent lower, spreading as wide as I dared, dreading the things falling out but keen to oblige him with as wide a gap as I could manage. A sharp pinch on one stiff, swollen nipple made me whimper.

  “Well?”

  His curt tone sent a shiver through me. Down below, his cock felt hot in my backside as it continued its journey deep inside me, inching farther as he waited for me to settle around it and relax before pushing in his all.

  As he did, I sensed slickness. With a pang I realized he’d already prepared himself for his intrusion.

  As his fingers worked my breast and my private places, I leaned back to whisper in his ear. “You are oiled there already, my lord? You could not wait for me to do that for you?”

  His low growl warned me that he was impatient to thrust, but with a sharp sigh, he paused. “Your touch always inflames. But tonight I wanted to surprise you. Are you surprised?”

  I swallowed as he pressed harder into my intimacies, searching my swelling folds with urgent, delicate fingers. He pres
sed again, sparking new flames.

  “Surprised, inflamed—and a little hurt, sir. You always let me prepare you. You told me it lends our lovemaking extra spice.”

  “And shortens it by a mile.” His cool chuckle sent a wave of heat through me as he eased away a little and started to pound.

  I braced against the rail to hold steady, staggering a little under the power of his thrusts. I longed to cry out with sheer joy but held back for fear of betraying my excitement to any stray onlookers down in the park.

  With my belly so disgracefully filled, I felt his sturdy column surge and retreat, surge and retreat as he set up a punishing rhythm. The low chimes from my belly reminded me even more intensely just how full I was and how much control he wielded over my body.

  At last he squeezed my nipple once more. The suddenness of it made me shriek. His laughter was my only reward. Something about it sent a new current through me.

  “That was your first mistake,” he whispered, his hips ramming hard against my ass as he rode closer to his fill.

  “But my cry was lost in the noise of the fireworks,” I pleaded, playful now, bracing harder. I gasped as he reached around in front of me to fondle my tormented gap, dripping now with my lustful juices, my tiny rosebud throbbing with need and pitifully untouched by all the action behind.

  “And that was your second.” His chuckle echoed in my ear, as he nipped my earlobe. “You think I like my pleasures exposed in public? You must learn to endure in silence when we fornicate, madam, if I choose to take you in the open. Next time we do this, I promise there will be dire consequences if we’re overheard.”

  At that moment he pinched my swollen, pebble-hard little knot. I came with an almighty scream. Luckily a huge explosion of flashes covered the noise as a massive rocket filled the sky. I leaned back against him, sobbing with the strain, as he reached his fill with a satisfied grunt.

  He kissed me on the cleft of my shoulder, his mouth hot and fond and his hand still firmly buried in my heat.