Isobel felt tears beginning to sting at her eyes, but the very last thing she wanted was to show Alasdair how afraid she was. Even as he climbed gracefully onto the bed and knelt next to her, entirely bare before her and very clearly ready to take all that he wanted to from her, Isobel refused to meet his stare, instead gazing stubbornly at the ceiling. A panicked gasp, though, escaped her despite her efforts as he raised the knife in one hand and straddled her body, reaching out to hold the gleaming blade against her throat as his other hand wrapped around the shaft of his pulsing cock, moving languidly back and forth.
‘Are you afraid of me, my Isobel?’ Alasdair was aware that the other men in the room were watching in fascination, all of them just as eager for him to reveal Isobel’s body to their eyes as he was.
‘N-no!’ she lied defiantly.
‘You should be, wench. I am a very dangerous man, and you have provoked my anger with both the way you dared to command Glen Carrick to stand against me, and the way that you are still fighting against me now, Isobel, despite the fact that your body so clearly longs for my touch!’ Alasdair shook his head reprovingly and drew the knife sharply downwards.
Chapter Three
Isobel closed her eyes tightly in terror, but the expected pain did not come. Instead, she felt nothing but a rush of cold air across her bare skin as Alasdair sliced with the greatest of ease through the linen of her shift, exposing her entirely as he pulled the ruined material away and sat back to fully admire her.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Alasdair instinctively thrust his hips forwards as Isobel resumed her desperate thrashing against the bonds, the sudden exposure making her feel more vulnerable than ever. The dark, lustful hunger she saw in Alasdair’s steely eyes convinced her completely that there could be no possible escape from what he had in store for her.
The sight of Isobel entirely naked and writhing in front of him was undeniably the most erotic sight that Alasdair had ever seen, and in the haze of desire that had clouded his senses he could think of nothing but satisfying his urge to possess her completely. ‘Ah, my lovely lass!’ he murmured possessively, leaning forwards to draw her breasts into his hands with a loud groan of pleasure as her nipples tightened instantly under his fingers, betraying her once more. ‘Are you ready to confess to me now how much you desire me? It is very apparent, you know.’
Her flush spreading to cover her throat and breasts, Isobel shook her head, confused and distressed by the pooling pit of warmth somewhere in the very depths of her stomach, sensations now flooding her body that she had never experienced before. As Alasdair pinched her nipples sharply, twisting them painfully with another impassioned groan, it felt to Isobel as if her very blood was becoming inflamed with the force of the heat now rushing through her. Furious both with herself for reacting to him in such a way and Alasdair for coaxing such a reaction from her with such apparent ease, she shook her head again. His face darkened instantly.
‘Perhaps you have not as much intelligence as I had credited you with, lass,’ he snarled as he sat back up and turning to look towards his men. ‘Douglas, do you think any of the men would dare defy me as much as Lady Isobel is doing this evening?’
‘Certainly not, Alasdair.’ Douglas’s breeches were already unfastened and he had one hand around his swelling cock as he stared unashamedly at Isobel. ‘You know how much they all fear and respect you – if I might be so bold, perhaps it is time that Lady Isobel comes to understand why that is?’
‘A suggestion that I am wholly in agreement with.’ Alasdair reached for the knife again and Isobel whimpered softly, much to her chagrin, but he had no intention of harming her. Instead, he simply cut through her bonds and jumped down from the bed, tearing away the remnants of her shift and pulling her into his arms before she even realised that her limbs had been freed.
Pushing his cock up against her stomach, the warmth of her soft skin against it sending him almost crazy with lust, Alasdair gathered his wits before backing her up against the wall. ‘Now, my lovely,’ he said with a calm he no longer felt, pushing her hair back in order to lower his lips to her throat and kiss the curve of exposed skin passionately before continuing. ‘Are you going to confess to your new master how much you desire him?’
‘Master?! I have no master!’ Isobel railed furiously, twisting and bucking wildly in her attempts to strike out at him, valiantly concealing her fear of him and all that he intended to do to her.
‘But you do have a master now, my pet,’ Alasdair crooned, his voice low and tender, for he was enjoying taming this wild hellcat more than he had ever enjoyed anything before. ‘I am lord and master of Glen Carrick, and of you. And now it is time to teach you to respect and obey your master. Fetch me a stool, men,’ he commanded suddenly, his loins already roaring their appreciation of the glorious idea that had come to him.
She froze again in his arms as one of the men scurried away to fulfil his request, confused as to what he intended but certain that it could not be anything good. His steely eyes had darkened yet further as he stared down at her, pulling her possessively closer into his body. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, his hands slipped down to caress the curve of her buttocks, moulding their hips together with a low growl and delighting in the heat he now felt pressed against his throbbing cock, for it was straining for its satisfaction. ‘Tell me, my Isobel, have you ever been spanked before?’ he asked softly.
‘S-spanked?! Oh no, Alasdair, no!’
‘Oh yes, Isobel! You are proving to be a very disobedient little wench, and perhaps a good spanking will begin to teach you that it will be far more pleasurable for you should you begin to obey me.’ Alasdair smiled, twisting Isobel in his arms and exposing her to face the rest of the men, for it was apparent how much they were enjoying the display she was so unwillingly putting on. Covering her breasts with his hands, he pinched sharply at her nipples again as he waited for the stool to be brought to him, rolling them between his fingers and revelling in her soft little moans of distress.
A squat wooden stool was placed in front of them, ideal for what Alasdair wanted. Kissing Isobel’s throat once more before sitting down upon it, for Alasdair feared he was already becoming addicted to the taste of her upon his lips, he straddled the stool and laid her face down across his lap. He ran his hands along the length of her back, smiling slightly as she shuddered underneath his touch, and then rested one large hand on her rounded buttocks. ‘You really are very beautiful, my Isobel,’ he said gently. ‘I meant what I said, my lovely – I will have you regardless of what you do to fight against me, but I would far rather you accepted me. I can give you great pleasure if only you will accept my mastery of you and Glen Carrick.’
Isobel twisted her head around to look back at him and glared at him proudly despite her utter lack of dignity. ‘That, Alasdair, will never happen!’ She ignored the wicked voice in the back of her mind that was urging her to give into him, for just the gentle caress of his hands was inflaming her desire for him further with every passing moment.
Alasdair yearned so desperately for Isobel to admit to her desire for him that her words filled him with a burning rage. Drawing back his hand, he struck her buttocks sharply, his cock twitching where it was pressed against her stomach as she flinched, colour instantly flooding to the skin. ‘Again I ask you, Isobel!’ he snarled, all uncharacteristic tenderness disappearing in the face of his consuming lust for her. ‘Will you confess to your desire for me?!’
‘No!’
Her stubborn refusal tore away the very last of his self-control. Alasdair spanked her again and again. Every involuntary moan that broke forth from her tightly clenched lips was a fresh thrill to him, and he could barely even think clearly under the weight of the heated blood pounding through every vein and sinew of his body.
However, even in the highly-strung state of lust and agitation that had gripped him, Alasdair slowly began to recognise that the moans Isobel was making as she writhed against his legs were no longer simple mo
ans of agony – he had heard enough of those in his time to know the difference, and the sounds that his Isobel was now making were, he was convinced, moans of pleasure.
Astounded that she seemed to be drawing pleasure from the spanking, Alasdair paused to test his suspicion. He was delighted, for though his intention had been only to punish her for her disobedience, the thought of the innocent maiden finding enjoyment in his sadistic pleasures thrilled him deeply. ‘Isobel?’ he muttered hoarsely, tracing the curve of her buttocks with his fingers and forcing her thighs apart. ‘Isobel, my lovely, are you enjoying this?!’
She shook her head hastily, but it was a lie. Though it had been the very last thing she had expected would happen, as she had slowly become accustomed to the stinging pain each time his hand descended upon her buttocks, Isobel’s pain had receded to be replaced by far more pleasurable sensations; a clenching, consuming ache in her very core that only increased every time that Alasdair struck her. However much she tried to ignore it, she could not hold back her soft moans, and it seemed that they had alerted him to what she was feeling. Panicking as she felt his touch on the very inside of her thighs, she shook her head again. ‘No, Alasdair, I will enjoy nothing that you do to me, you brute!’
Her denial did little to convince him. A slow, disbelievingly smile curving back his lips, Alasdair’s body tensed up as he sought out the most intimate part of Isobel, his fingers pushing their way in between the delicate folds and, to his great delight, slipping in easily as she instinctively pushed down against his hand. Isobel’s reaction was wholly unconscious, her body responding to Alasdair before she could even realise that it was, against her will, welcoming this greatest of intrusions.
‘No!’ she screamed, fighting against her body and trying to pull away again, almost sobbing with horror and humiliation as he tormented her so in front of the rapt audience of men who were all now red-faced and pumping furiously at their cocks as they stared at her.
‘Well, my men!’ Alasdair said slowly, ignoring her horrified protest and reluctantly looking away from Isobel to address them, though his fingers were still caressing and teasing her as her moans grew louder against her will. ‘It would seem that my lady is indeed enjoying her punishment far more than I anticipated she would, the saucy little wench! Shall I see how much more pleasure I can persuade her body to give to her?’
Their loud groans as Alasdair wound a hand through Isobel’s hair and yanked her impatiently back up to sit across his lap spoke their approval of his suggestion; and when he forced her legs apart over his and withdrew his hand, the groans only increased in volume.
Isobel leaned her head against his shoulder, struggling to catch her breath as mingled panic and arousal consumed her body, her heart racing and her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Alasdair reached up to draw one breast back into his hand and lowered his head to claim her lips again as he reached down with his other hand to brush his fingers against the part of her that he knew would increase her pleasure tenfold.
She shrieked throatily into his mouth, unable to understand how the briefest of lewd touches from a man she wanted so badly to hate could give her so much pleasure. As Alasdair swallowed her frantic moans of pleasure, it struck him again that no woman had ever affected him this strongly before – even disregarding the lingering effects of the adrenalin from the battle to take Glen Carrick, the way that Isobel was arousing him with such ferocity was something he had never experienced before.
Devoting himself to cruelly forcing every last possible bit of pleasure from her, he rolled her nipple between the tips of his fingers as his other hand worked against her. Isobel could not defy her body any longer and she gave herself over to the pleasure that was bursting through her, slumping back against Alasdair and finally parting her lips to permit his tongue the entrance it craved.
The realisation that she was submitting to him was a deep, joyous ecstasy, and Alasdair could barely hold himself back from thrusting his cock into her lithe, virgin body where they still sat on the stool in the middle of the solar. He was, though, determined to wait just a few moments longer until he had taken Isobel to the peak of her pleasure, convinced that not only was she torturously close to attaining it, but that when she had she would be unable to deny him the words he so wanted to hear.
Isobel began to shudder deeply again, but this it was not from fear, but from the convulsive waves of pleasure that were shooting through her body. Dizzy and light-headed, she suddenly jerked uncontrollably and screamed out loud as it consumed her entirely, the force of the climax that Alasdair delivered to her far beyond anything that Isobel had ever known it was possible to feel.
Helpless in his arms, she simply stared up at Alasdair through her heavy-lidded, darkened eyes as he stood up and carried her back over to the bed, pausing at the foot of it to stare down at her, hunger written all over his face. ‘Tell me now, Isobel! You cannot deny your desire for me any longer!’ he exclaimed with a heavy groan, painfully aware of the pleading tone to his low voice and suddenly resenting her for driving him into such a state.
Though the exquisite pleasures he had already shown to her were still lingering, spreading down to the very tips of her toes and filling Isobel with an aching need for everything else that Alasdair had to give to her, she still could not bring herself to confess to the desire she now knew she felt for him, the shame of it too great. Too breathless to speak, she simply shook her head, and with a terrible scowl distorting his handsome face, Alasdair threw her down onto the bed, pinning her hands above her head and propping himself up over her.
Chapter Four
‘Isobel, my Isobel, you could have made this so much easier for yourself!’ Alasdair wore a cold, fearsome fury in his eyes as Isobel twisted her head to look away from him. ‘Now, my lovely, I am going to rape you, and there is nothing – nothing! – that you can do about it!’
Panic took hold of her, despite the fact that she knew there was nothing she could do to evade Alasdair’s assault. Isobel unleashed a piercing scream, drawing her knees up and kicking out at him. Her renewed defiance infuriating him, Alasdair did not hesitate in driving his cock into her without any regard for the maidenhead that he tore through with the force of his thrust.
Isobel whimpered loudly, the sudden and searing pain catching her unawares, and Alasdair took a grim satisfaction in the way that her eyes had widened and tears had pooled in their depths, though that satisfaction faded in comparison to the thrill that had inflamed him upon claiming her in the most primal and pleasurable of ways. It was all he could do to stay still as the warmth of her gripped him tightly, afraid that if he began to forcefully slam into her in the manner he wanted, he would be unable to prevent his own climax from stealing over him already.
With the greatest of efforts, Alasdair brought himself under control and drew back slightly, Isobel’s wrists still trapped in his hands and pinned against the mattress. A low, triumphant growl burst forth from his parted lips as he thrust into her once more, and then again, his movements deepening the flush of her skin as, tentatively, she raised her hips in time with his thrusts, the reaction wholly instinctive yet precisely what he desired from her.
It was not, however, enough; Alasdair was filled with the urge to give her even more pleasure than he already had done, desperately wanting her to respond to him again. To draw pleasure from her even as he raped her would be the greatest of humiliations and triumphs over the woman who had dared to stand against him. Withdrawing with a pained curse, he released her wrists and then flipped Isobel onto her stomach, re-entering her from behind and forcing his hands between the woman and the sheets she was pressed into.
Isobel began to sob in earnest as he pinched at her nipples again, the strange mingling of pain and pleasure too much for her to cope with. The loud, lascivious grunts and groans that filled the room tormented her as all the while her treacherous body responded to Alasdair’s assault with the greatest of enthusiasm. ‘Alasdair, please!’ she begged, tears streaming from
her face into the sheets, but his only response to her plea was to increase the speed and force of his thrusts and to move one hand from her breasts to skilfully manipulate her clitoris once more, hastening the climax that he sensed was nearing again.
She shook beneath him, waves of heat and pleasure cascading through her body as Alasdair’s touch drove her inescapably towards her peak. There was nothing she could do to stop him or prevent it from consuming her again. Isobel buried her face in the sheets to muffle her screams as she convulsed violently.
Realising that she was trying to prevent him from hearing her pleasure, Alasdair withdrew the hand that was still groping eagerly at her breasts to seize a handful of her long hair and pull her head free of the sheets, twisting it to the side so that she was forced to look up at him. ‘You will not hide your pleasure from me, Isobel!’ he snarled as the colour on her face deepened yet further, frantic moans still bursting forth from her parted lips despite her efforts to quiet them.
Her sobs increased, but this time when her climax finally slowed Alasdair did not remove his hand, for he was determined to torment her for daring to try to conceal from him the pleasure he was forcing upon her. As Isobel bucked against him, feeling another climax building already, she shook her head desperately, for she could barely breathe from the weight of all the new and overwhelming sensations pressing down upon her, and did not think she would be able to cope with any more. ‘Oh God, Alasdair, please stop!’ she begged, choking and gasping for breath. ‘You have forced yourself upon me, is that not enough for you?!’
‘No, Isobel, it is not! I am your master now, my lovely, and if I command you to climax for me, then that is what you will do!’ Turning his head to the side, he covered her lips with his own and thrust his tongue inside her mouth, mimicking the way that his cock was moving inside her, possessing her completely and delivering physical ecstasies that she had never before even known could exist.
Prisoner of Desire Page 2