Papa's Prey

by Zoe Blake

  “Now,” Lucian barked, deaf to her pleas.

  With a start, Corinne shut her mouth. With a dragging step she stood before the altar and hesitantly placed her cheek against the cold, white marble top. The sharp edge cut into her stomach. Splaying her fingers wide on either side of her head, she waited. Her breathing ragged. Confused and frightened over what should happen next but powerless to stop it.

  The click of his boots as he moved to stand to one side resounded in the small chamber.

  Corinne felt his warm hand on her hip. Then the slow drag of silk as her nightgown slid over the back of her calves and across her upper thighs.

  Corinne bit her lip to swallow a sob.

  “Have you ever been spanked, little one?”

  Corinne whimpered.

  “I asked you a question,” he said darkly.

  “No, sir,” she whispered, her lips brushing the cold, unfeeling marble top.

  “Good. There is a heightened element of fear in the unknown. It will make it that much more pleasant to watch.”

  This time Corinne could not contain the jagged sob which escaped her lips.

  There was a cool rush of air as the silk nightgown was pulled high to rest in the hollow of her lower back. Her bare bottom and legs were now exposed to his avarice gaze. Allowing him to see what no man had ever laid eyes upon.

  “Precious,” he breathed as one hand ran over the curve of her bottom down the back of one thigh as if he were stroking a thoroughbred he intended to purchase. “Absolute perfection.”

  She trembled.

  “Chilled? I will soon warm you up, have no fear,” he warned.

  Raising his arm, his open hand came down on her vulnerable bottom cheek with a tremendous crack.

  Pushing off with her hands, Corinne’s upper body arched from the sudden pain. She had been rapped across the knuckles with a cane countless times as a child by the nuns, which had been horrendous. Though this had been a single swat, the humiliation that flooded through her made this pain seem far worse. She watched in dismay as his arm rose again.

  “No! Please! No! I’ve learned my lesson,” she cried out.

  “Not even close,” he responded.

  His hand came down on her other cheek. From that moment forward, the spanking continued with an unmatched ferocity. The small chapel echoed with pagan cries of pain from the maiden as she writhed on the altar.

  Corinne began to rock her hips as the burning, pulsing agony spread over her skin. She could feel her bottom cheeks bounce and jiggle with each strike. Each time there was the singular moment, the moment his skin connected with hers, where there was no pain, only pressure. Then his hand would release, and a thousand stings would dance across her flesh.

  The marble beneath her cheek had warmed from her tears. Desperately, her eyes searched the chapel for some sort of respite, a sliver of hope or help. All she saw were the cold, unfeeling stares of long dead saints as their stone effigies looked down at her prone form as if in judgment.

  Her bottom burned from the heat of his punishment. Her skin felt as if it was covered in glowing embers from a fire.

  “Oh god! God! Please! It hurts,” she sobbed.

  “You have no more god. I am your lord and master now,” Lucian stormed as she felt him cupping one hand under a full bottom cheek and ruthlessly squeezing the bruised flesh.

  Corinne screamed and went up onto her toes in a desperate attempt to escape the agony of his grip.

  “Say it,” he commanded.

  “What? Anything! I’ll say anything; just please stop,” she begged.

  “Say I am your new lord and master.”

  “You are my new lord and master.” Her words were barely intelligible as she crushed her open mouth against the marble altar. Her sobs wracking her entire small frame.

  She felt him placing his hand between her slightly open legs. His fingers slid along her hidden seam. Mortification filled her when he chuckled.

  “Look at me,” he demanded. When she lifted her eyes, he rubbed his fingers…his wet fingers together. “You’re slick.” He smiled and continued, “You may rise.”

  Corinne stood up. She hissed as the silk nightgown slid over her hips to fall about her ankles. Even that soft, delicate touch hurt. Her hair was a tangled mess of curls. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

  Lucian grabbed her by the chin and tilted her head back. “Do you accept your fate?”

  Corinne inhaled a shuddering breath. “Yes, Your Grace,” she whispered.

  Rolling his shirt sleeves down, Lucian reached for his coat as he called to the cardinal and Mother Superior.

  They both entered the chapel. Neither acknowledged Corinne’s tear-stained face or the cries they most surely had heard from the other side of the wooden door.

  The cardinal took up his position in front of the altar. Corinne closed her eyes in mortification as the holy man stood on the very spot where her bottom had just been exposed for the duke’s punishment.

  “Do you, Corinne, pledge to honor and obey your new husband, recognizing his superior and absolute authority over your mind, body and soul?”

  Pulsing, painful heat still radiated from her punished bottom as Corinne murmured her forced capitulation.

  “Your Grace, the Lord gives into your charge this woman to keep, protect and discipline. Do you accept this charge?”

  “I do.” Lucian’s voice rang sure and true.

  “You have now entered into a vow and covenant that no man or law upon earth may break. Go in peace.”

  Lucian’s dark eyes turned to Corinne. The devil in his smile. “You are mine now.”

  Corinne’s knees buckled as she fainted.

  The gentle sway of the coach awoke her. Still Corinne kept her eyes closed. Needing to focus, her thoughts flew to the strange events of the night. The dark lord. The cardinal in blood red robes. An angry Mother Superior. Had it all been a dream? If she opened her eyes would she be tucked into her narrow bed at the abbey?

  Moving her arms, she became aware of being wrapped in a soft, cocoon of warmth. Her cell had never been warm, not even during the summer season. Turning her cheek, the tickling feel of fur caressed her. She was wrapped head to toe in luxurious fur! Corinne gave a sigh of comfort.

  “I see my little one is finally awake,” came a low voice from inside the coach.

  Startled, Corinne sat upright, then winced when the movement put pressure on her bruised bottom. Alarmed, she lifted bright green eyes to clash with cold black ones.

  He was here. The dark lord. The one who had…had spanked her as she was draped helplessly over the altar.

  Her husband.

  “Why?” she asked. Her voice hoarse from sleep and tears.

  “Because I wanted you,” he answered simply.

  “But…but I’ve never met you. Not really. How could you love me?”

  Lucian chuckled. “You are a treasure, my doll. Who said anything about love?”

  Corinne bit her lip in confusion. “You married me! If not for love, then…why?”

  “I have already told you. Because I wanted you, and what I want, I take. From the moment I saw you walking alone on the moors two years ago, a fairy sprite with your white blonde hair and fair limbs, I knew I would possess you. Must possess you.”

  Dawn was breaking. Golden streaks of light peeked through the lace curtains which covered the small glass windows of the coach. If he’d seemed ominous in the poor light of a moonlit chapel, the effect was even more powerful in daylight. In the chapel he’d seemed somehow an indistinct form, a haze of power and leashed energy. Now, every nuance of his face. Each sharp angle. Each sardonic quirk of his mouth. The calculating gleam in his eye. All was distressingly on display. Despite the warmth of the furs, Corinne shivered. Continuing her silent perusal as the damning impact of his words sunk in, she could not help but stare at his hands. Large, tanned. The knuckles of his right hand showing the faint spidery outline of several scars. From a fight no doubt. His left bore the heavy si
gnet ring. At this very moment, she felt like the flower, being crushed in the talons of the mighty Lord Talon.

  Under no illusion this would be a true marriage, Corinne licked her dry lips before venturing to ask, “What are you going to do with me?”

  “How beautiful you look with your pale cheeks and wide frightened eyes,” he observed. “Beautiful…as was watching my handprints blossoming into perfect red impressions on your other pale cheeks when I spanked you over the altar.”

  His blatant description had her face heating with shame. When he shifted forward, Corinne instinctively shrunk back further into the welcoming folds of the fur blanket.

  A flash of warning crossed his face. Already learning, Corinne lowered her head and once again sat forward.

  Lucian reached out to grasp one perfect thick curl to run his hand down the heavy, silken length, both of them watching it unfurl against his palm. He gave it a fierce tug, wrenching Corinne forward till her body leaned over the small space which divided them.

  “You will remain my perfect little doll. An enjoyable plaything made solely for my pleasure,” he whispered against her open mouth. “I shall keep you as a child, entirely dependent on me. Every piece of fabric that caresses your body. Every morsel of food which crosses your lips. The very air you breathe. You will owe everything to me and you will repay me with complete obedience. I will see to it that your every waking thought is in giving pleasure to me.”

  Corinne’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, sir. I know nothing about giving pleasure to a man. I can be of no use to you. Please just let me go. I will return to the convent!”

  “No. You are mine and mine you will stay. I shall teach you how to please me. How about we begin this very moment?”

  Releasing her hair, he sat back into the plush leather seat. His broad shoulders and chest seemed even more commanding in the confined space. Corinne watched as he slowly opened his bent legs wide. Snatching a brocade pillow from the corner of the seat, he placed it between his feet.

  “Kneel before me.”

  Unwilling to test his patience or risk another spanking for disobedience, Corinne willed her shaking limbs to move. Gingerly, she lowered herself onto her knees. Grimacing when her heels dug into her bottom.

  “Do you know what a cock is, little one?”

  “No, Your Grace.”

  “From this point forward, you are to call me Papa.”

  Corinne remained silent.

  “I will hear my little girl say it.” His voice lowered with warning.

  “Papa,” she squeaked out.

  “Very good. When I give you a command, you are to repeat it back to me by asking, Papa may I, is that clear?”

  Corinne could only nod her head.

  His powerful hands moved to the fastening of his trousers. Corinne squeezed her eyes shut. She had never heard the word cock, but she had been taught it was a sin to look at a man below the waist.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Corinne reluctantly obeyed. What she saw caused her to fall back on her heels, grasping the seat behind her in shock.

  His right hand was wrapped around a thick, staff of flesh. It was ruddy in color and topped with a round bulbous cap. The hint of a vein ran the length of it, making it seem to pulse and move as if alive.

  “This is my cock. You will learn to cherish every inch. Your happiness depends on it.”

  Corinne couldn’t begin to fathom what he meant. How was she to cherish such a…such a…thing?

  “Kneel forward. I want you to kiss the tip.”

  Corinne looked at him in horror. Slowly shaking her head, she began to plead.

  “Silence. Do you want to earn another spanking so soon? This time I will borrow the driver’s riding crop.”

  Corinne was silenced.

  “Good girl. Now lean up on your knees. Place your hands on my thighs.”

  Corinne rose on her knees and placed trembling hands on the top of his thighs, surprised how firm and solid they felt.

  “Now kiss the tip.”

  Inhaling a jagged breath, Corinne leaned forward to do as she was told.

  “Are you forgetting something?”

  She raised her eyes to him in question. One black eyebrow was raised. He waited.

  “Papa, may I?” she mumbled.

  “May you what?”

  “Papa, may I kiss your…your…”

  “Cock.”

  Corinne licked her dry lips again. “Papa, may I kiss your…cock?”

  “Yes, little one.”

  Lucian ran his hand down his rigid length before tilting his engorged member toward her waiting mouth.

  Corinne gently placed her lips against the crest. Surprised how soft and warm it felt.

  “Now open your mouth and lick it.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek as the tip of her tongue hesitantly emerged from between her pink lips. She flicked the crest. It tasted salty.

  “You didn’t ask permission.”

  “I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

  “That’s quite all right, my little bird, but now you must be punished. This is how we learn.”

  Her face crumpled. “Please don’t spank me again. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “You will bear it and a great deal more very soon, but I will not spank you this time.”

  “Thank you, Papa,” she said dolefully.

  “You are going to open your mouth nice and wide and sit still like a good girl while I push my cock down your throat.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes. This is something I will require of you every day, so the sooner you learn how to please me, the better.”

  Every day? There was something unholy and wrong about what he was asking. Surely God never intended for a woman’s mouth to be used for anything but nourishment?

  Corinne felt powerless to tell him no.

  “What do you say?”

  “Papa, may I take your cock into my mouth?” she tearfully asked.

  Leaning forward, he reached out with his left hand. It easily spanned the underside of her jaw. Using pressure from his fingertips, he forced her mouth open. Still applying subtle pressure, his fingers pressed against her jaw until her sharp teeth rubbed against the delicate inside of her mouth.

  “This is to ensure you do not clamp down on me. The punishment would be very severe should you ever do so.”

  Corinne tried to nod her understanding, but his grip on her head prevented it.

  Using his right hand, he positioned his shaft at the opened entrance to her beautiful mouth. Pushing the head past her lips, he shifted his hips up to force an inch of his cock in.

  Her tongue flexed around the hard flesh as she choked from the intrusion. Still he pushed forward. Her fingers dug into his inner thighs as she struggled to breathe. Her jaw ached. Her lips thinned as they stretched around the thick shaft. The round crest pushed against the back of her throat. The sensation sent alarms ringing in her ears as her body reflexively gagged. Panicked, she tried to scream.

  “Shhh…don’t fight it.”

  He pulled back slightly before pushing back in.

  She inhaled the earthy muskiness of him as she desperately tried to breathe through her nose. Her tongue was now forced to the bottom of her mouth. Her teeth biting into the sensitive skin on the sides where his fingers pressed her cheeks in as she tried to clamp down. The crest pressed the back of her throat one more time before he pulled free.

  Corinne collapsed on the floor of the coach, choking in great gasps of air as her hands hugged her throat.

  “I see you will require a great deal of training. I shall have to instruct Mrs. Canon to start you on a trainer as early as this evening.”

  Corinne had no idea who Mrs. Canon was and, at that very moment, did not care.

  “Up on your knees again. You are not finished.”

  Reluctantly, Corinne forced herself to obey.

  Lucian ran his knuckles down her cheek. Though she tried to plead with her eyes, she knew
her attempt failed as he ignored her, saying, “Open your mouth again, little one.”

  Closing her eyes for a moment, only to open them again, she asked hoarsely, “Papa, may I open my mouth?”

  He nodded his assent.

  Her lips felt sore and pinched as she opened her mouth.

  He placed the head of his cock on her tongue. “Now close your lips around the top, just past the ridge. Good girl. Now you are to stay there with just the head in your mouth till I tell you to release it. Taste me. Swirl your tongue around it. Suck it.”

  Corinne tried to do as he commanded. After a few moments, she rested her head against his inner thigh and closed her eyes. He gently stroked her hair as her small mouth mewed around his cock as a child would a pacifier.

  The rocking of the coach. His hand caressing her hair. The warmth of his body against her cheek. Even the strangely comforting motion of sucking on his cock, somehow lulled Corinne back into a restive sleep.

  Chapter 3

  Corinne would never forget her first glimpse of Ebonhurst Castle.

  If she had been fortunate enough to grow up at her mother’s knee, she may have compared it to a fairytale, imagining chivalric deeds, knights on white horses and ancient magic. Alas, Corinne’s childhood was spent in a cold abbey surrounded by relics of dead saints and stern warnings of damnation. With such a limited experience, she could only view the imposing fortification with its crowned turrets, somber gray walls and unwelcoming facade through the same eyes she viewed its master. With fear and trepidation.

  As the coach rumbled along the uneven path, swerving dangerously close to the cliff edge with each turn, she could hear the rushing of the sea as it crashed against the jagged rocks. The icy dark waters swallowed all reflected light. With each winding twist of the road, the castle crept closer into view. Perched almost defiantly at the tip of a rocky peninsula which stretched out over the black sea, it seemed to mark the end of the world. As if the castle guarded the gate between society and the pagan past.