by Debra Glass
Something diabolical flashed in his eyes. “Raise your skirts, Kitty.”
“Sir?”
“Now!” he roared, leaving Kitty with no choice but to comply.
Trembling, she pulled up her skirt.
“Bend over,” he said.
Her blood thickened and, as she bent, her channel began convulsing in expectation.
He moved around to her side, his gaze appraising her as she stood in this disgraceful, vulnerable position. “Do you know why I am punishing you, Kitty?”
“No,” she squeaked.
He snorted. “That’s two,” he said.
She jerked when he began to carefully, almost tenderly arrange her bunched skirts on her waist so that her backside was thoroughly exposed. Cool air tickled the backs of her thighs, drifting into the loose legs of her drawers.
“I’ll ask you again, Kitty,” he said, his voice dropping even lower in timbre. “Do you know why I am punishing you?”
Waiting for it was madness. She ached between the legs and trembled to feel his hand come down on her buttocks. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes that she was submitting to this, that she desired it. “No,” she whispered.
“Three,” he said with a wicked chuckle. “Have you forgotten that I am your master?”
Realization flooded her along with the memory of Mrs. Bush’s words. I take it he has informed you how you are to address him? “No…Master.”
“That’s better,” he said, and all the while his caressing hand moved over her rounded buttocks as if he were her lover instead of her nemesis. “You know you are to refer to me as master.”
Her legs and back strained from being bent. Her fists ached from clutching her skirts.
“Three violations,” he murmured seductively.
Heat radiated from his body, along with that spicy male scent that belonged only to him. It was driving Kitty out of her mind. She felt as if she had drunk too much wine. Wetness trickled down one of her thighs.
“For each breach of our agreement you have committed, you will ask to be punished,” he told her, while his fingertips traced her cleft through her drawers, down, down, stopping just when she arched toward his hand.
A hot blush burned in her cheeks. She could never ask him to spank her. It was beyond cruel of him. But right now, she would have done or said just about anything to get him to put his hand back on her there.
“We will stand here like this until you feel you deserve your punishment, Kitty.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, wringing the tears from her eyes. She could not do this. She simply could not ask—out loud—for this even though her body burned for it.
“Are your legs growing weak?” he asked. “Does your back ache?”
Yes…
“All you have to do is ask,” Bram said. “All you have to say is, ‘I deserve my punishment, Master. Please spank me’, and it will all be over.”
No…
What would happen if she just dropped her skirts and ran for the door? Would he allow her to escape or would he chase her down and plunge his member into her?
His hand slid between her legs, pushing up hard against her most private place, that place that so ached for his touch. “Do you burn here too, Kitty?”
Oh God, yes. Kitty struggled to keep from losing her balance when all she wanted to do was spread her legs wider so that he could pleasure her. Heat raced up her spine, settling in her neck and face, and it no longer seemed to matter that he had coerced her to humiliate herself. But just when it seemed as if he might touch her the way she’d touched herself earlier, he withdrew his hand. Kitty ached from the absence of his teasing fingers. She whimpered.
“Tell your master what you want.” His voice was hypnotic. Insidious.
“I deserve my…punishment, Master,” she managed. “Please…”
“Please what?”
“Please…spank me.”
No sooner had she uttered the words than a hard, stinging slap descended on her buttocks.
Surprised, she yelped, nearly stumbling. This was not like the earlier spanking. He had turned it up a notch but the burning pain quickly subsided into delicious warmth that spread through her backside and down the backs of her legs. Oh yes.
“One,” he said, breathlessly.
Kitty swallowed. She was bent with her skirts hiked around her waist but, when she asked for her punishment, she was in control of everything he did to her. Everything. “I deserve my punishment, Master. Please spank me.”
A thrill rushed through her body as the second blow fell. This time she heard herself moan. The sharp sting carried her totally into her body, stripping the shame, taking away the choice, giving her permission to feel.
There was no humiliation. No guilt. There was only this wonderful heat that made her aware of every inch of her body, of her inner desires she had feared and sought to quell.
One more…
“I deserve my punishment, Master. Please spank me,” she said with more authority this time.
Her heart skipped a beat as she waited…and then his palm made contact again and once again fire moved through her bottom, throbbing into a pulsating heat that traveled all over her body.
Her channel clenched and she yearned to bring herself to that bliss once more but disappointment surged when he yanked down her skirts.
“Now, fetch me some wood for the fire.”
She stood and glared at him. How could he be so flippant? How could he just dismiss her after that? Her gaze dropped to his crotch, where it was evident he was also aroused. It made no sense that he had the capability of arousing her body to a fever pitch and then could so easily become the master of the house instead of the master of her pleasure.
What twisted satisfaction did he get out of humbling others?
Kitty debated refusing just to see what he would do but anger had already replaced need. Instead, she ground out, “Yes, Master.”
Bram watched her leave the room. Maybe after that, she would leave his house and disappear from his life—but something inside told him she had thoroughly enjoyed it.
He rubbed his cock as he dropped into his favorite comfortable chair. She was most certainly a novice at the business of being punished. Still, he had never seen a woman succumb so quickly, so willingly, so wantonly.
Her mere curiosity could not be what had prompted her to don those ridiculous spectacles and try to fool him into believing she was a maid. She had to have some ulterior reason for being here—some reason other than to raise her skirts so he could paddle her bottom.
Was she some spy sent by his father? That was a very real possibility but his father would have used a real commoner instead of sending a noblewoman. Perhaps Katrina was one of those women who wrote those torrid novels under an alias and was merely researching a character.
Bram liked that idea better than thinking his father had sent her. He knew his father was mortified at Bram’s reputation and Bram had to wonder if that was because the man was afraid his own dirty secrets would get out.
There was a vast difference in pleasurable punishments and plain cruelty.
Bram shuddered. No. He would not think about that. It was better to avoid the old duke and just wait for him to die.
Surely he would not have anything to do with Katrina’s being here. But making inquiries about her would only raise suspicion. How on earth had she gotten away from wherever she lived to pull off this farce?
Bram propped his feet on the footstool, still stroking his aching cock through his clothes. If she comes back…
No. Blast! He could not fuck her.
And yet the thought of her saying the words, “Yes, Master, I want you to fuck me,” made him shudder from the inside out. He groaned out loud. The least he could do was get her to frig him. Yes. That might frighten her enough to get her gone.
And if that failed to work…
He sighed. He would simply have to get her to talk. Any sane man who thought himself a gentleman would have al
ready asked her straight out. Bram knew he was no gentleman.
Curious as he was, playing this game with a virgin was a damn dangerous thing.
Chapter Four
For what reason on earth did the fiend need logs for his fire? He had doubtless sent her on this errand to get her out of his rooms. All she had wanted was a smidgeon of satisfaction.
After what happened in Bram’s study and chambers, Kitty realized she would not be satisfied until she knew all the pleasures her body had to offer.
Anger raced through her veins as she lugged the heavy load up the back stairs and through the servants’ entrance into the master’s suite—anger that she had so easily succumbed to her desires and anger that Bram Barclay was the man who had awakened this dark side of her nature.
Again, she could have just kept walking. She could have gotten the clothes she had stashed in the barn near the lane, changed out of this miserable maid’s uniform and cut and run for home. As it was, her aunt and uncle would not miss her. She had told them she was accompanying Lady Ashcroft, whom she knew was visiting a friend in nearby Turneyville.
What else was there to be gained from exposing herself to the lecher? So far she had little that she could include in her article, other than he forced his maids to do all sorts of unspeakable, lewd acts.
Her unsatisfied passage shuddered at the thought. What if she refused to refer to him as master? What if she purposefully challenged him?
The idea of it heated her blood.
No. She would not leave this place. Not until she’d gotten all she had come here for.
Her breath caught in her throat when she walked into his sitting room and saw him lounging in his chair, his feet up in a totally masculine but relaxed pose—with his breeches agape and his naked member in his hand.
Her stomach tightened into a knot and she nearly dropped the wood she was carrying.
“Throw that wood on the fire and come over here,” he commanded languidly.
Kitty took her time carefully placing each log on the fire. Her heart ran wild. What if he wanted to copulate with her?
What if he did not?
The idea of it both thrilled and terrified her. Still, no one would ever know she had lost her virginity because she did not intend to marry. But what if he, God forbid, got a child on her?
“Make haste, girl,” he snapped.
Kitty stood and smoothed her skirts as she moved toward him. Try as she might, she could not keep her eyes off his phallus. Although she was no stranger to the beasts mating in the fields, she had never laid eyes on a man’s member before. She had expected to find a man’s penis shameful to look upon. Distasteful.
Bram’s was anything but shameful and distasteful. It was, in a word, stunning. Thick, the monster filled Bram’s large hand, which moved up and down over it, causing glistening liquid to bead at a tiny slit in the mushroom-shaped top. One large vein meandered around the swollen shaft and Kitty found herself wetting her dry lips in anticipation.
“Haven’t you seen a cock before?” he asked.
“No…Master.” She only added his title because she feared what he would do this time.
He stood, his breeches gaping so that she could see the black curls at the base and just the hint of his scrotum. The thing protruded proudly as he moved toward her.
Kitty shook.
“On your knees,” he said.
Without question, she sank to the floor so that she was now eye level with his jutting phallus.
“Look your fill at it,” he told her.
Kitty swallowed.
“Do you like what you see?”
Oh yes…
“Kitty?” he prodded.
“I have nothing with which to compare it but those of the jackasses in the fields, Master.”
He chuckled and took a step closer so that the glimmering head was only inches from her face. This close, she could smell him and the fragrance was driving her crazy with need.
“I’m aching to fuck you,” he murmured.
Kitty’s gaze shot from his cock up to his eyes.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” he asked.
Unable to speak, she nodded. Her thoughts ran rampant. Had she answered correctly? She should have told him she was as seasoned as any whore but she had the distinct impression he knew better.
“Why are you here, Kitty?” he asked, stroking his shaft all the way down to his scrotum, drawing the skin over the head so tight, the flesh turned the color of a ripe plum.
Kitty’s tongue darted out and wet her lips.
“Why are you here?” he asked and took another step closer.
Kitty gasped when his hand caught the back of her head so he could trace her lips with the tip of his cock. Instinct surged and she fought the desire to open her mouth and take him inside it.
“It’s all right, my dear. You may taste me if you like.”
She clamped her lips shut.
“Why are you here?” he asked again, his fingers burrowing into her hair, teasing the back of her neck, loosening her chignon.
“To work for you, Master,” she uttered, her lips brushing his cock as she spoke.
He sighed and Kitty got the impression he was exercising inhuman control to keep from rutting her mouth the way she had seen him rut the duchess’s private parts. Terror welled that he might do just that. Equal terror welled that he might not. Mixed with both was fear that he knew her secret, that he knew she was not really a maid, but instead Katrina Hartford come here to expose him in an article penned by Alistair Allenby.
His cock prodded her lips again and Kitty wrestled against the hand that held her fast. Realizing resistance was futile, she stilled.
“Did you have this in mind when you decided you wanted to work for me?”
“No.”
He gave her hair a hard tug.
“No, Master.” Her voice rose with her hysteria.
“Certainly you knew of my reputation,” he said.
“Reputation?”
“Don’t be coy, Kitty,” he said, tracing her lips again so that she opened her mouth ever so slightly.
He growled. “Don’t be coy,” he said again, this time lower. “I’m a bad sort, a defiler of women. I’m damn debauched is what I am.”
Kitty quaked.
“Touch me,” he commanded and at once, her hand replaced his on the thick shaft.
Kitty’s breath left her lungs in a ragged rush. His skin was velvety soft, sheathing the hard steel underneath. She could actually feel his blood pulsing through the bulging vein running its length.
“Squeeze it. Harder. That’s it.”
She whimpered as flames licked her inner thighs. She wanted his member inside her passage rather than in her hand. It no longer mattered that he was the fiend she had come here to burn. He was making her burn instead.
“Move your hand up and down,” he instructed, placing his around Kitty’s to guide it.
She watched, mesmerized as more of the shimmering liquid beaded at the head, and instinctively she knew it was a lubricant to ease the movement of her hand over him.
“Why did you come here?” he asked again.
She could not answer him. Anything else she said would be an obvious lie. Instead, she opened her mouth and engulfed the head of his cock. The taste of him was salty yet sweet. Power and lust surged through her as she flattened her tongue and licked him, tugging at him with her lips, impulsively sucking.
His hand tensed in her hair and she seized hold of his shaft with both hands, anchoring him in place while she rolled her tongue and lips all over the luscious head as if she could not get enough of it.
His body shook and Kitty scooted closer, reaching behind to cup his buttocks, to draw him closer as she took more and impossibly more of him into her mouth. The head drove toward the back of her throat but she did not care. Somehow she knew she could give him that same feeling she had given herself earlier and then, suddenly, hot liquid filled her mouth and she gulped it down
.
His hips rocked toward her and the most sensual sounds Kitty had ever heard came from deep within Bram’s being. He uttered words she had never before heard. He growled. He groaned. He moaned. And then, he breathed her name. “Kitty. Yes, Kitty. Goddamn, suck my cock.”
Bram’s vision cleared and he looked down at the beautiful woman laving every last drop of his essence with her pink tongue. Something tender twisted inside him as he pulled away and did up his breeches.
Kitty’s blue eyes grew stormy as she looked at him askance.
Bram stared, shaking.
“W-what about me…Master?”
He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. If he really wanted to torture her, he would turn his back and tell her to fend for herself. As it was, his nostrils were filled with the sweet scent of sex and his mind was filled with the sight of her lovely, swollen, cock-sucking lips.
Why was she not leaping up off the floor and running? Did she not realize the peril she was in?
Apparently not. She was drawing up her skirts, reaching underneath to push her drawers down.
The fool.
Bram groaned as he dropped to the floor and, as if they were dancers who knew the steps to some intricate performance, Kitty reclined on the rug. As she pulled her skirts up to her waist, Bram slid her underthings down over her stockings, over her black shoes and off. He breathed in the sweet, feminine scent of her as he slanted his head down, down, to her already creamy cunny.
Her thatch was indeed the same pale blonde as the hair on her head and as much as he wanted to take his time, to savor this untasted treasure, he knew her need.
Kitty’s thighs trembled as Bram pressed a soft kiss to the little crest peeping proudly from her folds.
Her fists tightened on her skirts. A whimper escaped her lips. “Please,” she begged, shuddering. “Taste me, Master.”
God in heaven, what did I do to deserve this precious morsel?
Bram dipped and suckled her clitoris, running his tongue downward to dart in and out of her damp opening. So sweet. So damn sweet.
He could not be gentle. It was not in his nature. With an animalistic growl, he gripped her pale thighs and parted them before he dove on her crimson clitoris, sucking, gnawing, laving. He knew just where to apply pressure, just where to tease and just where to titillate. Kitty shook and then suddenly, her hips tilted and she was rolling up, holding her bottom off the ground, pushing herself up on tiptoe, toward his hungry mouth.
