Her heart beat wildly as she watched Ralen pull his black silk wedding shirt over his head to reveal broad shoulders, a strong chest and arms more muscular than any she’d ever seen. He looked as if he could crush her with one small embrace and the thought made her thankful he’d not done so—at least not yet.
Offering a short, speculative glance in her direction, he walked to the pegboard and selected a small riding crop. Her stomach churned—was he going to beat her? He’d spoken of punishment. Making her a sex slave. A beating, she feared, might seem an effective way to start both processes.
She tensed as he stepped to the end of the table, dropping his gaze to her parted thighs. She wondered if her pussy glistened, even amid her brittle fear.
Please, please, let me loose! Let me go! Don’t hurt me! The desperate pleas lay on the tip of her tongue, and it was a struggle to hold them back, but she did—because of Shaena’s advice. Obey him. Difficult as it is. Take whatever he metes out. And even had she begged, she didn’t think Ralen was the sort of man to show mercy.
When he held the black leather crop over her, she closed her eyes and waited for the first strike to cut into her tender flesh. When, instead, the thick fringing at the end was
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dragged gently, almost caressingly, between her breasts, she opened them again, peering down, and let out the breath she’d been holding.
Her gaze followed the trail of the small whipping device as Ralen drew it across her stomach—making circles, curves, then one long line that stretched from neck to navel and extended—in sensation only —down into her cunt. What are you doing to me? What is this all about? she wanted to ask, but bit her tongue once more.
As her husband glided the soft tip of the crop slowly from her shoulder to her wrist, then gently up her arm, the touch echoing pleasurably through her, something in her began to relax. Relax and almost even enjoy. She had not known the same leather they made clothing and bedding and household items from could be so …sensuous.
Moving the crop’s fringed end to the center of her chest, Ralen dragged it slowly around the edge of one breast in a wide arc, then circled it slightly inward, in soft, tightening curves that grew closer to her nipple with each orbit. She drew in her breath, watching, feeling the slow pleasure begin to escalate.
When he reached the pink bud, he nudged it, once, twice, then raked the hard end of the crop, hidden beneath the fringe, around the stiff point. Teesia wondered if her arousal would leak from her pussy to the leather beneath her as darts of delight spread outward from her breast.
Ralen soon began the same exquisite torture on the other breast, and though Teesiastill watched, she tried to hide her emotion. Perhaps because Ralen, this day, had beenso emotionless with her. Suddenly, she didn’t want to let him witness her feeling
anything, didn’t want to let him know he had any power over her in any way.
Even if she was chained to a table by his hand. And even if hiding her response got harder with every second. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep from sighing her enjoyment, but the erotic sight of the crop pleasuring her receptive breast only added to her reaction.
“What is my name, vixen?” he asked without warning, his voice menacingly low.
She flinched beneath the crop and got an unexpected burst of pleasure in her pussy as a result. “R-Ralen,” she managed to eke out, then realized she’d been holding her breath again. Not holding it made her feel every nuance of the crop’s touch even more.
“Say it again,” he commanded in a deep voice as the crop reached her turgid nipple.
“Ralen.” Smoother this time. But it was a miracle, given that he now nudged her nipple back and forth with the tip of the riding tool.
“Good,” he said, still flicking the crop over the puckered tip of her breast. The pleasure, at once both cool and hot, burst through her with each and every graze.
Next, he lay the length of the crop flat against the same rounded mound of flesh he already teased, dragging the strip of hard, braided leather across her nipple until the pink peak popped free on the other side. She let out a small cry—against her will, drat!
Pleasure or pain? She wasn’t even sure what she was responding to. A bit of both?
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She refused to look him directly in the eye, but sensed his gaze turning darker, his expression more feral, at the sound.
“My name is the answer for all questions tonight, wanton,” he said slowly. “ Nod if you understand that.”
Pulling in her breath, she gave him the silent reply he sought, then flinched when the braiding raked across her sensitive nipple once more. Ares in heaven, how much of this lingering, heated torment could she take?
“Who do you desire?” he asked.
She clenched her teeth slightly, hating the truth behind the answer as much as she hated obeying his stark command—but she said it quickly, lest she anger him. “Ralen.”
She watched her husband’s well-muscled arm as he slid the crop downward, gliding the fringe over her sensitive stomach again. “Who do you crave?”
“Ralen.” It came easier this time, just part of his game.
The crop next moved in a tantalizing line over her hip, making her cunt spasm slightly as he asked, “Who do you belong to, vixen?”
“Ralen.”
“Whose cock belongs in your pussy?”
“Ralen.” It came out huskier this time, drat it all. The mention of his cock and her pussy left her a bit breathless.
“Who do you worship?” He dragged the riding crop’s fringed end down her outer thigh, calf, in one long, even stroke that seemed to radiate through her entire body.
“Ralen,” she said, then softer, “Ralen.” Why twice? She didn’t know—it had simply
come out.
“Who is your master, my wanton bride?”
“Ralen.”
“And whom do you serve?”
Now he moved the crop slowly up her inner thigh. “Ralen.” It was a quivery whisper, her cunt tickling with desire as a wave of harsh delight raced up her leg.
“Whose cock will fuck your mouth?”
She flinched, that particular question catching her off guard. She had the foreboding sense that his cock was going to be much bigger than anything hanging on the wall, and she found herself wondering if it would even be possible for her to do what he’d just said. And indeed, fuck her mouth? The same way she’d fucked Bella’s pussy with the clay cock? Bella had never referred to pleasures given by the mouth in exactly that way before and Teesia hadn’t imagined Ralen’s shaft moving between her lips of his volition.
When she didn’t answer right away, the crop came down in a stinging snap at herhip. She let out a yowl, her entire body jerking.
Their eyes met, her teeth clenched.
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“Whose cock will fuck your mouth, wanton?”
She unclenched, both teeth and body, nipples still tight with pleasure, pussy still
weeping with it. “Yours,” she whispered meekly, then, remembering, “Ralen. Ralen.”
“Better,” he murmured, seemingly more to himself than to her, as he resumed gliding the crop down her other leg. “Who is your ruler, vixen?”
Her father was the Ruler of all Caralon, of all who lived here—but she knew that, truly, this man did rule her now. “Ralen.”
The crop slid sensually back up her inner calf, her inner thigh. Oh, the severe pleasure of it! It was all she could do not to moan.
“Who does your pussy throb for?”
“Ralen,” she replied shakily, unable to deny that truth even to herself.
When he raked the soft fringed end of the tool up through her open cunt, she let out a trembling cry, the sensation skittering all through her like nothing she’d ever felt—a tiny earthquake inside her body.
“Who is your husband?” he asked, gliding the crop across h
er clit.
She let out another short, hot sigh of pleasure. “Ralen.”
“Your master?” He moved the tip of the crop in little circles around the anxious nub, forcing her to lift slightly from the table, pressing against it. There was no choice— simply her body’s hungry response.
“Ralen.”
“Your new god, vixen?”
Ares forgive her for the blasphemy. “Ralen.” Even if she could have resisted answering without fear of being whipped, she could not have without fear of him taking the crop away from her pussy—which, at the moment, was unthinkable. She’d never given herself permission to move against the torturous tool, but her body had taken over—her cunt yearned too badly for stimulation, and the crop delivered it so delightfully in Ralen’s skilled hand.
“Who do you wish to fuck?” he asked.
“Ralen.” The answer came weakly, for it was growing hard to speak.
“Whose bidding will you do, now and forever?”
A fresh burst of heat made her cry out. “Ralen!” The pleasure grew, her pussy turning swollen, anxious—pleading for release. The sweet crop stroked her, stroked her, hard and soft at the same time.
“Whose commands will you follow?”
“Ralen. Ralen!”
He moved the crop so quickly now, lightning fast, at a feverish pace, making hercrazy—and so very near to the orgasm she ached for. She thrust up against it, driving her pelvis in the same fast little lunges. “Say your master’s name, vixen,” he demanded harshly.
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“Ralen!”
“Say it. Again.”
“Ralen! Ralen is my master!”
“Again, wanton!”
She drew in a great gulp of air—once, swiftly—and then cried out his name on each
breath as the ultimate pleasure crashed down over her, through her.
“Ralen…Ralen…Ralen.” Her whole body shuddered as the waves of heat vibrated through every limb to the very tips of her fingers and toes—a true earthquake inside her body, racking her entire being. “Ralen,” she whispered one last time in wearied conclusion, her eyes falling shut.
She wanted to curl into his arms after such a wrenching event—a shame she was chained across a table, and married to a man who would probably never wish to hold her anyway. Thank Ares she’d closed her eyes before he could see such emotion passing through them.
She opened them again only when she realized he was joining her on the table. Indeed, they bolted open at that, especially when he climbed astride her, one leather-clad knee planted aside each hip, and reached down to begin unlacing his pants.
Her voice quivered when she gave way to fear and asked, “What are you going to do to me?”
In a flash, he took up the crop and snapped it against the curve of her breast. Theslight sting didn’t hurt so much as she would have expected, and somehow she felt the strike in her cunt, as well. As intended, she went silent, waiting…fearing…anticipating what was to come. Ares help me.
Ralen was much more aroused than he’d expected to be at this point. Touching andexploring Teesia with the crop—watching her body respond, then watching her giveherself over to ecstasy—had set his loins blazing.
He refused to care for the girl in any way—to him, she was still a reckless wantonwho couldn’t be trusted to understand her place in the world—but he couldn’t deny thepleasure he would take with her, and in her, either. Somehow, in his fury, he’d forgotten just how deeply he enjoyed mastering a woman, bending her to his will. Already, he knew instinctively he would find an even greater satisfaction in mastering this little vixen—and not only because she was his wife and clearly needed to be mastered, but for the same reason he’d allowed himself to dip his fingers into the honey-sweet moisture of her pussy that night at Dane’s fortress. There was something invisible but tangible between them. Some magnetic heat, an attraction that pulled at him, hard and deep.
It had nothing to do with caring, or any sort of true affection. But it existed just thesame, and it turned him wild inside—wild to pleasure her even as he tamed her, wild to use her to pleasure himself.
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Now, he wanted her to feel his power, to understand what he had in store for herand understand it well. As he finished undoing the lacings of his pants, his cock sprung free.
She flinched—at the mere sight of it or at its massive size, he didn’t know. But he took a cruel, controlling sort of delight in the fear and awe that shone in her eyes as she studied his hard shaft, shooting up some ten thick inches from root to tip. The strength in his rod, the very dimensions of it, filled him with an arrogant pleasure—the pleasure of knowing how intimidating it looked and the intense joy it could bring. If ever he hadoccasion to doubt his power, in sex, in battle, in governing Charelton, he need only glance down at the very mass of the tool between his legs to be reminded he was a mighty and dominant man.
“Take a long look at my cock, vixen, for soon it will be inside you.”
She let out a small gasp as he leaned forward just slightly, enough that the weight of his shaft balanced on her chest.
“I will own you with this cock,” he said, his voice going warm and dark with the anticipation of sinking into her tight, wet passage below.
Reaching down, he molded his hands around the outer curves of her plump, pretty breasts, drawing them up around his erection. His low sigh of pleasure mingled with her higher one of surprise.
“Watch me fuck them,” he instructed, then sank with slow passion into the task. The soft flesh hugged his hardness, forming a perfect valley to slide in and out of. The fluid on the tip of his shaft wet her inner curves, making for a moist, warm path between. For a long moment, he allowed himself to sink fully into the raw pleasure of gliding between the two delectable mounds, raking his thumbs over the delightfully stiff nipples with each long, thorough stroke, leaning his head back, breathing heavier, audibly.
It was then that he realized she sighed deeper beneath him, as well, in time with his strokes between her breasts—taking joy from it just as he was. “You already worship this cock,” he accused with a devilish hint of a smile.
She didn’t reply. Good for her, as anything other than his name would have earned her a crack of the riding crop. But their eyes met, heat simmering between, and he whispered lowly, “Whose cock do you crave, vixen?”
“Ralen’s,” she whispered back, her voice surprisingly soft and sweet—almostdocile. Yes, very good.
He almost could have come that way, fucking her lovely breasts, but was far fromready yet—he had a virgin bride to deflower, after all.
She’d better be a virgin, anyway.
Leaving her ripe breasts, he wrapped his hand about his length and leaned in toward her face to drag the head across the seam of her lush lips. She looked nervous—her mouth trembled. He was utterly tempted to push his way inside and show her what it was to have her pretty little mouth thoroughly fucked.
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But for a reason he couldn’t explain, he held steady, just letting the tip of his cock play about her dark, berry-colored lips, watching her fearful expression fade slightly as she grew used to the sensation. “You will worship it with your mouth soon enough, wanton,” he told her before drawing away.
For now, though, she was to be feasted on—the urge to know her body better grew inside him with each passing second.
So he eased down her curves until he lay slanted across her, her breasts jutting into his bare chest, his cock pressing into her hip. As he lowered his mouth to her neck for atender kiss, then a bite, he whispered, “Who do you desire?”
Her answer came breathily, making him even harder. “You, Ralen, you.”
He kissed her mouth then, firm, deep, as he kneaded the globes of her breasts in both hands. He kept telling himself he didn’t particularly wish to pleasure her so muchjust yet, but he wanted to take the lovely pink bea
ds of her nipples into his mouth. Hewanted to touch her everywhere. That much giving, pleasing, this soon, risked the lesson he intended to teach—but damn it all, her curves were too enticing to resist.
He sank down, lowering his mouth over one nipple, beautifully hard on his tongue as he explored the curves of her waist, hips, thighs, with eager hands below. He licked, suckled lightly, played and teased with his mouth, making her whimper and moan above him. He lifted one hand to the other breast, molding it warmly, then lightly pinching and rolling the delectably pointed peak. She possessed long, prominent nipples that seemed made for play with fingers, teeth, tongue, lips.
At this moment, he thought he could take joy in his vixen’s breasts for hours, never tiring of the soft, malleable flesh or their hard, jutting centers. Her little cries of pleasure told him she would not tire of it, either, and the odd concept—of pleasuring the both of them in only that one way, for such a long time—hardened his already rigid cock even further.
But this was not that time—no, this was the time for much, much more than merebreast play. As he continued caressing one of the hot mounds, with his other hand hereached below, pressing eager fingertips into the warm moisture of her cunt. So smooth outside, so wet and swallowing within the sweet folds. Her cries of heat echoed upward, growing as he began to stroke the damp, fleshy ridges and valleys within her slit.
He kissed her neck—a chain of kisses from one side to the other. He molded her
breast, petted her pussy.
Then he parted her pussy, using his first two fingers, and shifted so the length of his hungry cock rested in the wet valley of her cunt.
He rubbed his rod against her, watching her throw her head back in passion, her arms pulling instinctively at their shackles as she writhed beneath him. Ares help him, he took profound, unflinching delight in seeing her chained and pleasured—it was a measure of the beast within him and he’d never tried to fight it, for the satisfaction it
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