Read Online Bride of the Revolution by Bethany Amber - Free Book Online

threw herself to the rough wall, shrinking to the floor, hugging her trembling breasts with fear. She felt the heat and moisture of her sex purse cooled by the dank stone of the floor and felt the stilling of her need within her belly.
    â€˜Gaoler!’ Madame, the silk of her gown rustling as she bustled across the dungeon, her face a mask of fury, peered into the shadows of the gaoler’s cubby-hole. ‘I shall have you beheaded! How dare you sleep when I have given you such a valuable prisoner? How dare you risk her virginity by placing her with this servant?’
    It was such a temptation to Grace to reach out to the footman. She longed to feel his hard nakedness against her own; the promise of his cock within her moist and willing, but still shuttered, depths. Shuddering, she remembered how it nudged gently between her love lips and against the very tip of her clitoris, drawing juices from her depths.
    Philipe strode angrily up and down, swiping the rusty bars of her prison with a wooden rod. Grace, her heels tucked tightly into the cushion of her sex, crouched, her glossy black hair sweeping across her breasts, titillating the hardened teats.
    â€˜I cannot wait to punish you,’ Philipe hissed, his pale eyes glaring at her, glistening with pent up cruelty. But although his lips said these words he meant something else entirely. Grace knew! Oh yes, she knew that the very moment he had the opportunity and had her alone he would do far worse than punish her. Grace could not still the quiver which ran through her naked body. The very thought of what the Duc d’Orleans planned sent a forbidden quiver of excitement through her. His words and what they might mean thrilled her with wantonness.
    His eyes sought hers, his lips pursed and curved in a wicked smile. She remembered the silky feel of his cock in her mouth, the wetness of his come slipping down her throat.
    The gaoler appeared, scratching the leather pouch that scarcely held is genitals. ‘Madame,’ he said with an obsequious bow, ‘sire. I had scarcely dozed when…’ He paused, seeing the black fury in Philipe’s eyes as they turned upon him. ‘I am sure they had no chance to fuck.’ He shook his long greasy locks. His filthy hand strayed to the pouch and his fingers stroked the growing bulge as he looked down at Grace. She saw his tongue lap lasciviously about his parted lips and he stroked the dewy tip of his cock as it peeped upwards beyond the pouch.
    â€˜Never mind that.’ Madame joined Philipe and stared with narrowed eyes into the filthy cage. ‘Put her on the rack!’ The order was hissed with some glee.
    â€˜But I thought you did not wish her to be harmed,’ objected Philipe, giving his mistress a sideways glance. But the thought of Grace’s lovely form splayed helpless upon the rack made the discomfort about his groin all too plain.
    Grace bowed her head, hiding the tears, clutching to herself the misery of what her life had become. The only light on the very distant horizon was the pleasure she was promised when her virginity was, at last, spent.
    â€˜The rack!’ repeated madame.
    Between the dark fronds of her long hair Grace could see the gaoler, could see how he rhythmically thrust out his massive bulge and put strain upon the leather pouch. She saw how the holding strands cut into his hips as the thin leather truss became fuller.
    â€˜She will not be harmed,’ consoled madame. ‘Her delicate frame, her limbs, her breasts, will just be a little stretched. All part of her training for sensuality. I am sure Rousseau would have approved of my methods.’ Her eyes gazed lustfully at Grace’s huddled figure. ‘It will, after all, make her more graceful, more supple, more mysterious, I am sure. We shall have every man in the palace lusting after her.’
    â€˜No!’ The rusty bars were rattled by angry hands. ‘You cannot! You cannot treat this lovely