Read Online The Devil of Nettlewood (The Anarchy Tales) by Louisa Trent - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louisa Trent
Tags: BDSM Historical
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“Oh aye.”
And then, ’twas done. Finished. The punishment was over. The lashing ceased. Too soon. Much too soon to do her any good.
Her belly hollowed out. Bereft at the loss of his discipline, she could easily have wept. In frustration. His strapping had not lasted long enough to tip her into release.
But she took heart. All was not lost. All was not hopeless. Heat rising off his body informed her that he had drawn near. If only she could find some way to provoke him again…
A rough hand fisted her hair and forced her back up onto her knees.
He was staring at her. His gaze burned her backside, blistered her skin worse than the whipping.
“You liked it,” he accused. “The strapping—you liked it.”
Tired of the lies, she nodded her head in eager agreement.
“Corporal discipline makes you come apart.”
A statement, not a question, and one that irritated her to no end, for if he understood her perverse need, why had he stopped her discipline before it could benefit her?
To deprive her of pleasure?
Or mayhap he was simply thoughtless. Many men were dolts about female carnality, which explained why her erotic candles had found such winning success with women. Frustration was a horrible thing, and she would know all about that.
To give him the benefit of the doubt, she hinted at what pleasured her. “I have always preferred a firm hand.” All she had ever experienced was her own firm hand, but she could hardly admit that to him.
“The whip assuaged you?”
“Nay,” she said and dropped her chin again, not in shamed humiliation this time. In the torment of an unappeased craving. “You stopped too soon.”
Telling her deep, dark secret freed her. What else remained for him to do to her now that he had stripped both her body and her soul?
“I see.” A large calloused palm smoothed over her buttock, first one and then the other. “You have some fiery stripes here. Sleeping on your back tonight will be out of the question.”
She shrugged. “No matter. In my trade,” she said without thinking, “I oft lie on my belly.” Candle making played havoc with her back, and that position eased the achiness.
A groan came from behind her.
That she must have prompted that groan stroked her vanity, and she preened. A new experience, as always before she had run from men.
Smiling to herself, she daringly slid her thighs apart.
That should provoke him…
His moan was like music to her ears. “Your arse is so tight. Unusual for a woman to have such a muscled physique and yet be soft and round too in all the right places.” He grunted. “You have a fine, healthy body. From those flirtatious teats, to the sable curls at your cunt, to your long legs and narrow hips, you make for a savory little piece.”
“My thanks,” she murmured, not knowing what else to say. No man had ever complimented her before; no man had ever seen her naked before. Never had she told anyone about her unwholesome desires before, either. And rather than meet her perversity with disgust, her admission seemed to have provoked him, the very result she sought to achieve. All of this was so new and unexpected, she hardly knew what to think.
Save—“Just now…you took enjoyment in the dispensation of my discipline,” she blurted, female intuition filling in the blanks in her knowledge.
“’Tis not a question of my enjoyment, wench, but your punishment.”
From the side where he stood, he must have noted her elongated nipples, distended with her arousal, for he instructed, “Fondle the ends of your breasts; then dig in your fingernails.”
“The hurt breast too?”
She heard him swallow. “Aye. The hurt breast too.”
As if of their own volition, her hands fluttered to her chest. Just as she always did when self-pleasuring, she stroked her fingers across the light rose centers.
Ahhhh…
Her body tightened like a bow with an unreleased arrow, and…and…
Naught happened.
He came closer, brushed her hands away, and
And then, ’twas done. Finished. The punishment was over. The lashing ceased. Too soon. Much too soon to do her any good.
Her belly hollowed out. Bereft at the loss of his discipline, she could easily have wept. In frustration. His strapping had not lasted long enough to tip her into release.
But she took heart. All was not lost. All was not hopeless. Heat rising off his body informed her that he had drawn near. If only she could find some way to provoke him again…
A rough hand fisted her hair and forced her back up onto her knees.
He was staring at her. His gaze burned her backside, blistered her skin worse than the whipping.
“You liked it,” he accused. “The strapping—you liked it.”
Tired of the lies, she nodded her head in eager agreement.
“Corporal discipline makes you come apart.”
A statement, not a question, and one that irritated her to no end, for if he understood her perverse need, why had he stopped her discipline before it could benefit her?
To deprive her of pleasure?
Or mayhap he was simply thoughtless. Many men were dolts about female carnality, which explained why her erotic candles had found such winning success with women. Frustration was a horrible thing, and she would know all about that.
To give him the benefit of the doubt, she hinted at what pleasured her. “I have always preferred a firm hand.” All she had ever experienced was her own firm hand, but she could hardly admit that to him.
“The whip assuaged you?”
“Nay,” she said and dropped her chin again, not in shamed humiliation this time. In the torment of an unappeased craving. “You stopped too soon.”
Telling her deep, dark secret freed her. What else remained for him to do to her now that he had stripped both her body and her soul?
“I see.” A large calloused palm smoothed over her buttock, first one and then the other. “You have some fiery stripes here. Sleeping on your back tonight will be out of the question.”
She shrugged. “No matter. In my trade,” she said without thinking, “I oft lie on my belly.” Candle making played havoc with her back, and that position eased the achiness.
A groan came from behind her.
That she must have prompted that groan stroked her vanity, and she preened. A new experience, as always before she had run from men.
Smiling to herself, she daringly slid her thighs apart.
That should provoke him…
His moan was like music to her ears. “Your arse is so tight. Unusual for a woman to have such a muscled physique and yet be soft and round too in all the right places.” He grunted. “You have a fine, healthy body. From those flirtatious teats, to the sable curls at your cunt, to your long legs and narrow hips, you make for a savory little piece.”
“My thanks,” she murmured, not knowing what else to say. No man had ever complimented her before; no man had ever seen her naked before. Never had she told anyone about her unwholesome desires before, either. And rather than meet her perversity with disgust, her admission seemed to have provoked him, the very result she sought to achieve. All of this was so new and unexpected, she hardly knew what to think.
Save—“Just now…you took enjoyment in the dispensation of my discipline,” she blurted, female intuition filling in the blanks in her knowledge.
“’Tis not a question of my enjoyment, wench, but your punishment.”
From the side where he stood, he must have noted her elongated nipples, distended with her arousal, for he instructed, “Fondle the ends of your breasts; then dig in your fingernails.”
“The hurt breast too?”
She heard him swallow. “Aye. The hurt breast too.”
As if of their own volition, her hands fluttered to her chest. Just as she always did when self-pleasuring, she stroked her fingers across the light rose centers.
Ahhhh…
Her body tightened like a bow with an unreleased arrow, and…and…
Naught happened.
He came closer, brushed her hands away, and
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