The Conquered Brides Collection

by Renee Rose, Ashe Barker, Sue Lyndon, Korey Mae Johnson

  “My lord, release me. Please, there is no need for this. I will not fight you…” Thrown into a sudden panic I am struggling, tugging at my bonds but to no avail.

  The duke says nothing to calm or further alarm me. Nor does he make any attempt to prevent my hopeless thrashing around. Instead he lies beside me, waiting until I exhaust my efforts, until I finally accept that there is to be no escape until he unties me. At last I lie still, regarding him with a heady mix of dread, and what I am starting to realise is anticipation. He has shocked me, scared me, but still I am eager to know what he intends to do to me now.

  “Are you comfortable, Tally?”

  I shake my head slowly. Comfortable would not be the correct description.

  “Too tight?” He gestures at my bound wrists.

  Again I shake my head.

  “Ah, the problem lies here then.” He extends his hand to tap my temple with the tips of two fingers. “You think you should not like this, so you tell yourself that it is awful. You struggle, you fight to be free, when all the while you just want me to touch you. You want to be at my mercy, though perhaps right now you do not know why that should be. Am I right, Tally?”

  “I am not certain what I want, my lord…” This much at least is true.

  “No? I have some idea, and I intend to show you, my lovely little Natalia. I intend to teach you. Do you intend to be my willing pupil?”

  “I cannot. I do not know what you mean.”

  “You will. I have tied you to the bed this time. You fought, but you have accepted the restraints, and I consider that to be enough. For now. Soon I will introduce you to a blindfold, or a gag, and you will accept those too. I intend to explore your beautiful body at my leisure. I will touch you, lick you, kiss you. Like this perhaps…” He takes my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezes it.

  I gasp at the contact, then squeal as the pressure builds to become painful. At once he releases me. He leans over to plant a kiss on my stomach, then drifts a little lower to circle my navel with the tip of his tongue.

  It tickles. I have never liked that feeling, and delivered by his grace with such consummate skill the sensation is unbearable. I arch my back under the featherlike caress in a hopeless attempt to throw him off.

  He stops after a few moments and props himself up on one elbow, to peruse my body. He seems especially interested in my breasts. I glance down to see that my nipples are swollen and hard, like deep pink cherries tipping my not especially ample curves.

  “Tell me, Tally, which did you like best? I am about to touch you again. Should I torture your nipples, or tickle your tummy? Your choice.”

  In truth, I hated being tickled, but I fear what further pain he might inflict on my nipples. “I prefer the tickling, my lord.”

  He turns his head to meet my gaze, his expression playful but somehow serious too. My belly clenches, though this time with unease.

  “Your first lesson, my sweet—here, in our bed, I make the choices.”

  He leans in to take my nipple in his mouth. I groan, the sound evolving into a low moan as he sucks hard. It feels heavenly, absolutely divine. Is this what he means by torture? My vocabulary is developing fast.

  He scrapes his teeth over the tender, distended nub, and I shiver. This is more ominous. He is not hurting me, but he could, he so easily could. I am vulnerable, helpless, but it is that very edge of danger that makes the sensation so intense, so heady. My quim is soaked, the moisture surely dribbling onto the bedding beneath me. I arch again, this time to thrust my breast upwards, offering him more.

  Begging for more.

  He lifts his head, now taking the pebbled bud between his fingers again. He rolls it, his touch gentle though firm, the tender peak slick from his mouth.

  “You like this? You like me to touch you this way?”

  I close my eyes, allowing my head to drop back against the pillow.

  “Answer me, Tally. I want to know what you like, and how you like it.”

  “I like that, my lord.”

  “Stefan. You will call me Stefan. We have a new rule. Whenever you are naked in my presence you will use my given name. If you do not, if you forget, I will spank you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lo… Ah!”

  I let out a scream as he squeezes hard and twists my nipple between his fingers. “Stefan! Stefan!”

  “There, you are learning already. So you agree to this new rule of ours?” His caress has softened once more, but I am wary now, my body primed for some new assault on my senses. He has not hurt me, or if he has the pain has been fleeting. But in just a few minutes, using nothing more than his fingertips and his lips, he has brought me to this state, stretched taut as a bow string, my every sense attuned to whatever he might do to me next.

  “So, for the avoidance of doubt, you understand and accept my new rule? Yes?”

  “Yes, Stefan.” My voice is breathy, the words forced out between gasps of pure pleasure as he continues to roll the pad of his thumb over my nipple.

  “And you like to be touched in this way? You like me to stroke your nipples, to squeeze them, to suck them and lick them?”

  “I… yes, Stefan. I like this. But it hurts when you squeeze.”

  “A little pain is good. It hurts, but not much. Not too much. Shall I squeeze again?”

  No. “Yes.”

  He chuckles, the sound low and sensuous, melodic almost. “Ah, my sweet little whore. I shall enjoy you.” He tightens his grip, increasing the pressure again.

  This time when he twists the hard nub in his hand I hiss and arch my back, but I do not cry out. He holds me there for several long moments, suspended between pain and pleasure, before he releases me.

  “Such rapid progress, sweet Tally. Now tell me, do you like being bound?”

  “I do not know, my lord.”

  He squeezes my nipple hard, and I scream out loud. That was definitely pain, not pleasure.

  “My name?”

  “Stefan! Please, please….”

  He releases me. “Try to remember the rules. I do not want to be unnecessarily harsh with you, but you have agreed to these conditions, so I will be enforcing them. On the next infringement I will turn you over and spank your bottom. And you really would not like that as it would mean I could no longer do this for you…”

  His fingers are again at my nipples, the caress firm, sensual, and utterly delightful. My emotions are scattered, my wits in turmoil as he flips me between intense pain and erotic bliss. My responses are beyond my understanding, but despite the occasional flirtation with something akin to brutality I know I want it to continue.

  “So, you do not know if you like being bound, Tally? You seemed certain enough at first, when you fought to be free. You did not like it then.”

  I moan again as he shifts his attention to my other nipple, subjecting that to the same tender attention.

  “I was not expecting it, so I was surprised. And very scared. But now, now I believe I might get to like it.” Heaven preserve me, where did that come from?

  “That is good. Now, I have another idea for something you might get to like. Spread your legs wide for me.”

  “I, Stefan, I…”

  “Love, honour, and obey, Tally. Do I need to remind you of the consequences? And I think by now you might believe me when I tell you, you will love the honour I am about to do you, when you obey.”

  I do believe him, why would I not? I spread my legs, my knees straight and my ankles now perhaps a yard apart.

  Stefan grins at me, shaking his head. “Tally, let me explain. I intend to lick your quim, then I’ll fuck you with my fingers while I suck on your plump little clitty. For this I need better access than you are allowing. When I tell you to spread your legs wide and promise you joy, I do not expect you to play the modest virgin for me. Show me your cunt, my whore. Present it to me. Offer it to me. Beg me to take it.”

  I turn my head to meet his gaze. His eyes are intent, pinning me to the bed a
s surely as his bonds have fastened me there. In some curious display of mental gymnastics it is almost as though I am outside my body, watching from a distance, as if some stranger has slipped into my consciousness and is doing these outrageous things. My movements are slow, but I obey him. I bend my knees and bring them up toward my chest before opening them as far as I am able. I am exposed, waiting. Hoping.

  One corner of Stefan’s mouth lifts in a satisfied half-smile, and I offer him a tremulous grin in return. I am drawn back into this moment knowing I have pleased him, and this makes me proud. I will do anything he asks of me, just to win that smile from him again.

  “Well done, love. Now you may lie still, and enjoy what is to happen.”

  I close my eyes, conscious of the shift in the bed as he moves. I know he will be positioning himself between my thighs, looking at me, at my most secret self, but I find I do not mind. Well, not overmuch. The cool draught of his breath flutters across the exposed lips of my womanhood, and I wonder if he has blown on me on purpose. It happens again, and I know.

  My entire body jerks as he draws his tongue slowly around the entrance to my quim, but I recover and hold myself still for him. This position is difficult, not comfortable, but he has demanded it and I will comply.

  He circles the lips of my sex again, then opens them with his fingers to plunge his tongue inside. I am astonished, it had never occurred to me that he might do such a thing, but he has. And it is wonderful, so intimate, so intense.

  “Oh, Stefan…”

  “Is this good?” He has replaced his tongue with a finger as he talks to me. He is stroking it in and out of me, each movement slow, deliberate.

  I can only nod, so wholly focused am I on the sensations he is generating at my very core.

  “I will always keep my promises to you, Tally. You may rely on that.”

  My inner walls are stretched as another finger joins the first, and his head dips toward me again. This time though it is that sensitive nub just at the front of my slit that attracts his attention. It is swollen, just as my nipples have grown and hardened under his caresses. He takes the jutting bud in his mouth and sucks on it.

  It is too much, the thrill too intense. I shatter, my senses scrambling in every which direction. I thrust my pelvis up, desperate, demanding as I squeeze hard around his fingers. My quim is clenching, though not through any effort of mine. I am spinning again, loving the sensation of weightlessness, a rhythmic pulsing that wracks my entire body, gripping, twisting, and eventually relaxing to allow me to drift back into myself.

  The waves of pleasure recede and my writhing dies away. Eventually I lie still, my eyes closed as my world rights itself. I feel dizzy, a little lightheaded perhaps, confused certainly. Twice now he has touched me, created such intensity of sensation that I lost control of my body, my responses. I had heard of such a thing, in those naughty whispered conversations girls sometimes indulge in, discussing the mysteries of married bliss. I had thought such stories to be a myth, a wishful fantasy woven to soften the harsh reality of a life filled with duty and pain and culminating usually in the perils of childbirth.

  Not so, it was real. Is real, here, now, with this man as my husband.

  I prise my eyelids open. He is close to me, propped up again on his elbow as he gazes down at me. His face bears an amused smile, perhaps laced with a trace of indulgence. His grin widens and he leans in to kiss my mouth.

  I part my lips under his, then widen them further as his tongue slides into my mouth. I suck on it, loving the taste of my body on him, my wetness. He angles his head to deepen the kiss, tilting my face back to gain better access. I tug at my bonds, wanting to wrap my arms around his shoulders, hold him to me.

  He breaks the kiss with a low chuckle. “Not yet, my beautiful little bride. I am not nearly done with you yet.”

  My gut twists in helpless excitement even as I prepare myself for the possibility of pain. Who knows what this wonderful, dangerous, beautiful man will do next?

  He stands, waits for a few moments to look down on me, spread out on the narrow bed waiting for him. I shiver despite the warmth of the fire.

  “My apologies, madam. I should not keep you waiting, at least, not tonight.”

  He makes a mock bow and steps back a pace to remove his leather belt, then his linen tunic. He drops those on the floor as I gaze at his magnificent torso. I am gnawing on my lower lip, my mouth dry in this moment. Somehow Stefan knows. He crosses the room in two paces to pick up the cup of mead left on the table with the remains of our repast of lamb stew. He returns to the bed and crouches beside it.

  “Drink.” The command is soft spoken, and he slips his hand beneath my shoulders to help elevate my upper body, just enough that I can take a few sips without choking.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Ah, such a short memory. Roll over, please, and bring your knees up.”

  Again I have forgotten to use his given name. He said he would punish me, and it seems he will. This time, though, I find I face my chastisement with far more equanimity. A spanking might hurt, but he will not harm me. I know this, I am sure of it. And with the pain comes such exquisite pleasure—afterwards.

  I twist my body, finding he left sufficient slack in my bonds to enable me to turn to lie face down. I bend my knees under my body in a kneeling position but with my face on the mattress.

  “Lift your bottom up, Tally. And feel free to scream.”

  I barely have time to draw in a breath before a blaze of fire explodes across both my buttocks. I let out an anguished yell and jerk away from him. Turning my head I see his belt, so recently discarded, dangling from his right hand.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus. No more, no more…” My voice is a strangled croak.

  “We are not done yet. One more, on each side. You will not forget my name again, I suspect. Get back into position and present your bottom for further punishment. You will learn this lesson here.”

  I have rolled to my side, my body curled in a near-foetal position. Stefan stands beside the bed, the belt swinging. He waits for me to compose myself and do as he has instructed me.

  And I do it. From some secret, hidden place I did not know I had, from somewhere deep within myself, I discover the courage, the fortitude, the determination to submit.

  The remaining two strokes are delivered with ruthless efficiency, searing my buttocks with liquid fire. I cry out with each stripe, but I do not move again. Even after he has finished and the belt lies once more on the bare earth floor, I remain still.

  Stefan is moving around the room. The rustle and swish of fabric against skin tells me he is undressing. I am curious, but still too stunned to shift so much as a muscle.

  “I am happy to take you in that position, but you might prefer to lie on your back.”

  “I am scared to move. It hurts.”

  “That will soon pass.” I wince as his palm flattens over my tender, smarting bottom. His touch is gentle now, a slow, light caress that seems to absorb the pain and soothe my throbbing skin.

  “Your arse feels hot, and you will have bruises from this night. Your flesh is soft, tender. Were you never been spanked before this morning?”

  “No, my… No, Stefan. Never.”

  Conscious of my error I hold my breath, but this time he chuckles. “I want you to obey me, but I will not punish you again tonight. Best you do not store up further retribution for tomorrow though, would you agree?”

  “Yes, Stefan. Thank you.”

  “So, do you want to move?”

  I manage a small nod and wriggle cautiously back onto my side, then complete the turn. The press of the mattress against my still smarting bottom is uncomfortable but not unbearable.

  Stefan stands, and for the first time I catch sight of him in all his naked glory. In all his naked and truly enormous glory.

  I have only the dimmest recollection of seeing my second husband so displayed, and my first husband not at all. For sure neither one of them was endowed with eve
n a fraction of my current lord’s size. I would have remembered. Without doubt.

  And it will not do. I am a small woman, in every respect. There is no way that he will be able to… That I can…

  “No, my lord. You will not fit. You are too big.”

  “So quickly you forget, Tally. Have a care. Tomorrow is going to be a difficult day for you as it is. As for your other concerns, you are tight, I know that. It has been a while for you, I realise. We will take this slow, but please be assured, I know what I’m about and we will be extremely compatible.”

  He shifts to kneel on the bed, reaching for my knees to draw them apart. I am dreading the next few minutes, but I appreciate the futility of further argument. And surely, despite appearances to the contrary, one man is much like another. I am no virgin, I will survive this.

  Stefan has promised.

  Chapter Eight

  The expression on Tally’s face puts me in mind of a cornered hind I once observed during its final moments as it faced a pack of hungry wolves. The inevitability of the outcome was assured, no serious hope of escape remained, but still the tenuous possibility of some sort of reprieve hovered, tantalising, just beyond the desperate creature’s reach.

  I am not entirely sure I care for the comparison, and if I believed further delay might alleviate my bride’s fears I would be happy to give her the time she needed. Well, perhaps not happy, but I am convinced it would make no difference in any case. Tally needs to conquer her trepidation, and she can only accomplish that with experience. Delightful, exquisite experience.

  I will do what I can to deliver. For reasons I am only starting to understand, this matters to me. To her.

  I shift to position myself between her knees, drawing her legs up. She offers no resistance, allowing me to arrange her as I like for my penetration. Her eyes are tightly closed, her beautiful mouth working as she chews on her lip. On impulse I reach for her, rub the pad of my thumb over her mouth. She parts her lips and I slip the tip of my thumb inside. Her mouth fastens on it and she suckles, the soft tug so intensely erotic I have to fight down the urge to ram my cock into her body, deep and hard, right to the hilt.