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

and…’
    Grace felt the chill of the iron as it was fastened. Hard and resilient.
    â€˜And we spread her thighs wide to fasten the anklets,’ continued the gaoler. It would have been foolish to resist such a strong man.
    â€˜ Oui, oui ,’ chuckled Philipe excitedly, hopping around the cruel device.
    Grace lay helpless upon the rack, her arms stretched to the limit, her wrists inflamed from the earlier binding. She saw the gaoler stroke his leather pouch as he looked down at her, and she turned her head away from the vulgar creature.
    â€˜So open and vulnerable,’ whispered madame. ‘So perfect and submissive – the perfect woman.’ She stood by Grace’s side, her ringed fingers hovering over the tautened breasts, seeming to wish, above all things, to twist the wine-dark nipples. ‘Tell me, Philipe,’ she said, and her voice trembled with excitement, ‘how does her cunt look?’
    Philipe groaned and Grace, despite the dimly lit and shadowy chamber, was sure that his legs buckled with desire as he walked to the end of the bench.
    Grace, unable to bear more humiliation, tried to close her eyes, but was stopped by a shrill order from madame. ‘You must watch, my darling. Watch how Philipe adores your little cunny with his eyes, feasts upon its juicy flesh.’ The woman’s eyes flickered to the gaoler, who stood over Grace, watching eagerly. ‘And the gaoler, too,’ she added with a chuckle.
    It was as if Grace could feel the intensity of the two pairs of eyes on her most private place in a physical manner. Within her belly she felt warmth and a swirling sensation as if the men touched her, very gently, within. Much as she tried, she could not stop the feeling of fullness in her sex pouch, the drool of silky liquid upon heated skin. She tried to twist her supple body to hide the object of their interest.
    â€˜Stop that,’ ordered madame, rapping her arm with her fan. ‘Gaoler, turn the handle. Make her tauter upon the rack… just a little. Only a little, to take up the slack. Prevent her trying to hide that lovely part of her body.’
    A drool of spittle oozed from the gaoler’s grinning mouth and Grace saw him adjust the straining bulge between his thighs as his big hands grasped the handle which would stretch her even further open.
    A loud and threatening click echoed through the cavernous chamber and Grace gave a tiny mew, not of pain, but of discomfort as her limbs became tauter. She looked up at the gaoler, who stood at the end of the bench. His gaze was fixed on her fully open sex lips. She knew they were dreadfully inflamed with her wanting – her need. She knew her jet-black curls were moist with her juices and were spread outwards, making the full folds of her sex open and the finer, inner leaves part to bare the arch of her nubbin, making the whole more available, more visible. She felt her inner sex lips flutter and saw the gaoler’s fingers stray into the bulging leather pouch to rub up and down the thick stem which strained there.
    Philipe spoke, startling Grace. ‘Oh, madame… such a delightful sight!’ The aristocrat crouched at the end of the bench. ‘Her mound is thrust higher by the tension of the rack and the plump folds swell deliciously. It makes me want her more than ever.’
    Grace could not stop her lashes fluttering closed as she tried to shut out her shame. She knew she was disobeying orders and punishment would follow.
    â€˜One more notch,’ said madame, instructing the gaoler. ‘Or perhaps she can stand two? She is such a supple and graceful creature.’ She smiled into Grace’s eyes.
    It was almost as if madame was bestowing a gift rather than a punishment, thought Grace.
    The slow tension made the tortured girl feel more vulnerable. It seemed to lift the fullness of her sex closer to Philipe’s eager eyes. Helpless, she could not move a muscle under the