Papa's Prey

by Zoe Blake

  Nanny returned with a small wooden tray. There was a scrap of lace placed under a small silver domed dish and a glass baby’s bottle filled with milk. Lifting the silver dome, Nanny picked up the bowl of porridge and a spoon. Corinne was disappointed at the sight of the plain repast. She was accustomed to porridge for meals from her upbringing at the abbey. She had hoped marrying a duke would mean eggs and sausages with brown bread and butter, perhaps some currant jam.

  Resigned, she reached for the bowl in Nanny’s hand.

  Nanny pulled back her arms. “Stop your fussing. Put your arms down so that you can be fed.”

  “Surely I will be allowed to feed myself, of all things,” protested Corinne.

  “Absolutely not. And if you do not stop your fussing, your first spoonful will be of castor oil, not porridge. As it stands, you have already earned yourself a black bead for your obstinate attitude this morning.”

  That was enough of a threat to silence Corinne. She sat stoically as Nanny spooned one mouthful after another of the bland boiled oats into her mouth.

  After scraping the bowl for the last remaining bite, Nanny finally placed it back on the tray and picked up the bottle.

  “You may hold your own bottle while Nanny prepares the room for your lessons.”

  Staring at the brown rubber nipple, Corinne asked, “May I please remove the nipple and drink from the glass?”

  Nanny did not respond; her glare was response enough.

  Corinne hesitantly wrapped her lips around the soft rubber and sucked in her cheeks. Sweet, warm milk flowed onto her tongue. Tilting the bottle up, she continued to suck on the nipple as she watched Nanny. She was setting out an embroidery hoop and threads.

  “Finish every drop,” said Nanny.

  Corinne wondered how the woman could have known she was about to place the bottle aside, half full. Reluctantly, she once more tilted the bottle up to her lips, drinking the rest of the large bottle.

  “Good girl. Now come over here for your lesson.”

  Corinne walked to the other side of the room, where Nanny had set out the sewing items on the small tea table. Sitting down, she ran a finger over all the beautiful brightly colored threads. Excited to think about all the pretty things she could embroider with such thread. Perhaps some flowers! Or birds! Or both! It would be such a delight to sew something other than the bible verses Mother Superior had always insisted on.

  Nanny placed a small drawing in front of her. “Here is the sampler you will be working on.”

  On the piece of paper were the words, Papa’s cock is my only pleasure, and a graphic drawing of the male member.

  Corinne could feel the heat creep up her neck and cheeks. “You want me to sew that?”

  “Yes. And while you are employed with your task, you will think about your papa’s cock and how it is your duty to accept it into your mouth, cunny and bottom for his pleasure.”

  “My…my bottom?”

  “Yes, dearie. You did not think your papa would deny himself the feeling of your tight bottom grasping his cock, did you?”

  “But…in the bible it says that is wrong!” protested Corinne.

  “You will fast learn there are different rules for the aristocracy, my dear. Now get to work.”

  Corinne picked up her needle and began to thread it, but her mind was not on her task. She could not stop thinking about what Nanny said about her bottom and papa’s cock.

  “No! I won’t do it!”

  “Yes, you will!”

  “No, I won’t!”

  “That’s three beads!”

  “I don’t care!”

  “Enough!” roared Lucian.

  Both women turned with a start. Neither had heard him enter, his step silent.

  Corinne stood in the middle of the nursery, hands on her hips. Her face screwed up in an angry pout. Nanny was standing across from her, arms across her chest, equally as obstinate.

  “Your Grace,” intoned Nanny with a quick curtsy.

  Corinne just stared. At the abbey, she had heard countless cautionary tales of the devil taking on corporal form. Masquerading as a man, he walked the earth, seducing women, leading them into a life of sin and degradation. His sharp, dark eyes taking in all, yet giving nothing as he stood there in his black coat and breeches. Corinne could be forgiven for the flight of fancy that perhaps, just perhaps, Lord Lucian, the man she was forced to call Papa, was more aptly named Lord Lucifer.

  Twisting the gold band of his signet ring as his eyes bored into Corinne, Lucian softly commanded. “Explain.”

  “She will not use her nappy, Your Grace,” offered Nanny.

  Digging her slippered toe into the rug, Corinne refused to raise her gaze.

  “Mrs. Canon. Would you be so kind as to remove the ribbons from Corinne’s hair?”

  Corinne felt a harsh tug as Nanny pulled on the green ribbon securing the ringlets over her left ear. She remembered fingering the soft silk, loving how the color matched her eyes. Curls of white gold hair bounced off her shoulders as Nanny pulled the second ribbon free.

  “Now remove her dress.”

  Catching her trembling lower lip between her teeth, Corinne tried not to cry as Nanny untied the sash at her lower back. The only sound in the nursery was the soft rustle of taffeta as Nanny slowly undid the small, pearl buttons between her shoulders. She shivered as the dress was pulled from her body. It fell to the floor in a soft swoosh. Gingerly, she stepped aside so Nanny could retrieve it.

  She was left in only the short ruffled bloomers which covered the linen nappy, her knee stockings and leather slippers. Corinne raised her arms to cover her naked breasts.

  “Don’t.” Lucian’s stark command was biting in the silence of the room.

  It only took a look from Lucian for Nanny to bow her head and quickly leave the room.

  Folding his arms behind his back, Lucian turned away from her. Corinne watched from under her eyelashes as he stalked across the room, stopping before the framed prints delivered earlier. Her cheeks flushed an even deeper pink as she watched him stare at the pictures. It was somehow more humiliating to have him ignore her flesh and blood form only to study the false images. Again she was taken with the power of his presence. A haughty lord such as himself should have looked ridiculous in such a childish atmosphere surrounded by such nonsense. It should have somehow diminished his power. Made him seem boorish and clumsy compared to the delicate furniture, or comical to be framed by dolls and stuffed rabbits. Somehow the opposite was true. He appeared even more commanding, more virile. It was as if all the color and warmth of the room were drawn to him, leaving the surrounding space pale and cold. Corinne shivered from the foreboding thought.

  “You disappoint me, little one.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa,” she whispered.

  “I am certain I made my wishes quite clear.”

  Lucian shrugged out of his wool riding coat. Grasping the material by the shoulders, he methodically folded the coat in half and carefully placed it over the back of a nearby chair. With an efficient flick of his wrist, he undid the four ebony buttons of his silver embroidered waistcoat and shrugged out of it, placing it over the coat.

  Slowly rolling the cuffs of his starched linen shirt up his strong forearms, he continued. “I saved you from a monotonous existence of drudgery in a cold, gray world. Surrounded you with luxury and beautiful things. I cover your skin in silk and lace.”

  Corinne’s stomach roiled as her whole body shook with tension and fear. Dark pink, half-moon slivers appeared on her palms as her fingernails dug deep from her efforts to keep her hands still. She was so confused. His tone made her feel like a chastened child, but a glimpse of the dark curling hair on his forearm, the barest hint of the definition of his chest through the thin linen of his shirt were bringing back illicit memories of the night before. She remembered the feel of his chest hair as it brushed her nipples when he’d leaned over her as his cock forced its way into her body. Her mind’s eye could still see how the
muscles of his forearm moved and bunched each time he’d raised the riding crop to discipline her. Her body would never forget the harsh sting of that crop on her cunny which would then blossom into a throbbing warmth.

  “Is this how I am repaid? With obstinate disobedience?”

  Corinne’s beautiful face crumpled. “I can’t. Please don’t make me,” she pleaded.

  “You will do what I command…when and how I command it. Do you understand me?” he barked, his obsidian eyes flashing.

  Falling a step back at his harsh tone, Corinne could only shake her head in fear and denial. This was madness!

  He was mad!

  Caring not for her state of undress, Corinne’s only thought was to flee. Turning on her slippered feet, she tore through the nursery doors and down the dark corridor.

  A frightened bird in flight.

  Walking to a small closed cabinet, Lucian grasped the round, brass knob and pulled open the small doors. Sliding one drawer open, he extracted a small, clear glass vial of oil. In the second drawer, he lifted up a long, graduated strand of black marble beads. The smallest about one-inch around. The largest bead was heavy and two inches in diameter.

  Pocketing both items, Lucian stalked out of the nursery.

  He had a little bird to catch.

  Chapter 6

  Corinne’s hands skimmed the papered walls as she ran blindly down the dark hallway. Not the slightest glimmer of warm sunshine could be found deep inside the castle walls. Finally, her fingers felt the smooth, etched wood of the staircase balustrade. Tripping down the thickly carpeted steps, Corinne found herself in the somber entry hall. The cold bite of the stone floor seeped through her thin slippers. Hunching her shoulders, Corinne shivered as she hugged her small form. Reason clawed its way into her panicked mind. Her body was bare. She had no place to run. No funds, clothing or friends.

  Worst of all…she had just angered her only protector. The man who, in the eyes of the law and God, owned her. A possession he could do with as he pleased.

  The muffled sound of servant chatter could be heard as a pair of parlor maids opened the drawing room door.

  Corinne fled through the first door she could find, softly closing it behind her as she pressed her heated cheek against the chilled surface. With trembling fingers, she softly turned the brass key in the lock, before taking a step back.

  Sharp nails dug into her exposed shoulder. Screaming, Corinne wrenched away and turned. Seeing the creature before her, she fell back in horror. Towering over her was a demon covered in thick, black fur. Its long snout opened on a snarl. Its yellow, jagged teeth on terrifying display. Two strong arms with claws bared reached out for her.

  Dimly, through the pounding in her ears, she could hear shouts and a dull, thudding beat. Only the sound of splintering wood as the locked door crashed open could tear her frightened gaze from the ferocious beast.

  Framed in the doorway, Lucian stood, feet splayed, fists raised. His upper lip curled, exposing the points of his teeth as he sucked in a harsh breath. Following Corinne’s wide gaze, the taut strain in his body relaxed. Turning, he ordered the curious servants who had gathered outside the door, excited over the drama unfolding in their master’s study, away with a curt nod of his head.

  Corinne cast a panicked look from the large angry form on the threshold to the even larger form deep in the shadows of the room. Only then did she realize the horrifying demon was frozen in place. Still.

  Lucian sucked in a deep breath, willing himself back under control. When Corinne’s frightened scream had pierced the halls of the castle, Lucian experienced such an overwhelming flood of emotion it felt as if something had ripped through his chest. Rage mixed with fear. He had vaulted over the staircase railing to reach the closed door of his study, only to find it locked. Before his eyes swam a haze of red as he imagined all sorts of horrors which could be befalling his precious little one. None were plausible. She could not be safer under his protection within his own home among loyal servants he trusted with his own life, but that didn’t matter in the moment. Without hesitation, he had raised a booted foot to kick in the heavy oak door.

  Corinne’s pale form was crouched on the floor. Her small hands crushed against her mouth in fear.

  With clenched fists, he turned, ready to pummel whatever threatened her.

  It was the black bear he had killed in the mountains of the American colonies.

  Bears were not indigenous to the British Isles, so it was possible she had never seen one before and had been frightened, mistaking it for something more sinister.

  Closing the door, he used the toe of his boot to push a small table against the splintered wood to keep it shut.

  Crossing further into the room, Lucian stopped before the oriental, shell-inlaid sideboard. Picking up a heavy, crystal decanter, he poured himself a drink.

  Turning his shuttered gaze back on Corinne, he observed his beautiful quarry as the fiery sting of brandy soothed his raw anger.

  He watched as her panicked fear receded, replaced by something deeper, more primal. Her red lips appeared thin and white as the skin across her cheekbones and around her eyes tightened. He could see the pulse flutter and bounce at the base of her slender throat.

  The corner of Lucian’s mouth drew up in the semblance of a smile.

  She knew.

  She knew now the earlier danger was a mere figment of her overactive imagination.

  But now…now she was in real danger. Real, tangible danger.

  Lucian gestured towards the far wall with his free hand. Arranged in a macabre design was an intricate tangle of horns and antlers. The arrangement only broken by the glass-eyed stare of one stuffed, wild beast or another.

  “My trophies. Any man can purchase an item he desires. It takes a special set of skills to track down and hunt what you want. It takes focus. Patience.”

  Lucian placed the flat of his hand on the top of her head, stroking her long silken locks. Petting her, as he spoke.

  “But most importantly, it takes an unrelenting belief that inevitably you will bend your prey to your will…whether that will be to claim or devour.”

  He could feel her delicate body tremble with fear beneath his touch.

  “You are not unlike these beasts on the wall. Wild, untamed. Shall I strip you bare, stuff your mouth, bind you and place you on display?”

  Corinne sniffed as the tears rolled down her cheeks, incapable of speech, even to beg.

  “Is that what you want, my little one? To be bound and displayed for my pleasure on the wall among my other trophies?” he darkly intoned.

  “No, Papa,” she choked out past her tears.

  Lucian fisted a handful of curls and pulled her to her feet by her hair. Corinne cried out in pain and shock.

  Dragging her across the room, he flung her face down across the hard, wood surface of his desk. Digging his fingers into the ribboned band of her bloomers, he wrenched downward, tearing both the bloomers and the linen nappy off her body. The tip of a pin from her nappy, scratched her delicate skin, leaving a thin trail of red across her hip.

  “Then why do you insist on defying me?” he ground out near her ear.

  “I won’t. I promise! I’ll be good!”

  “The time for promises has past. It is now time for punishment.”

  Corinne sobbed. Her shaky breath misting the polished surface of the desk.

  “Spread your legs.”

  Corinne was too caught up in her own misery to obey.

  “I said spread your legs!” Lucian kicked at her right ankle, forcing her knee to buckle as her leg pitched sideways.

  Corinne obeyed and shifted her left foot sideways as well.

  The desk was the perfect height to display her generous bottom to perfection, thought Lucian. It was just low enough that her body pitched forward slightly, raising her bottom up and forcing Corinne onto her toes. The creamy, paleness of her skin glowed against the rich, dark walnut.

  Leaving her prone form,
he walked back to the sideboard and retrieved the vial of oil and the strand of beads he had laid aside when he’d poured a drink. When he returned to her side, he slowly lowered the strand…bead by bead…onto the top of the desk inches from her open mouth. Each orb hit the surface with a heavy clatter. He watched as her emerald eyes widened in confused anxiety.

  “Aren’t they beautiful?” he asked caressing the smoothness of one black bead with the tip of his finger. “They are polished marble, just like the punishment beads over your bed.”

  “Please don’t beat me with them, Papa!” pleaded Corinne.

  Brushing a golden curl away from where it had stuck to the tears on her cheek, Lucian laughed. “My silly, precious thing. I would not mar and bruise your delicate body in such a brutal fashion.”

  Running a warm hand down the chilled skin of her back, he rested it on the top curve of her bottom. The tips of his fingers teasing the sensitive skin along the inner seam.

  “No. They are not to punish the outside of your body but rather inside.”

  Corinne’s thin brows lowered. She didn’t understand.

  “I am going to force each one of these beads into your tight bottom hole.”

  Corinne sprang upward. Only Lucian’s tight grip on her left bottom cheek prevented her from launching away from him.

  “Lay back down,” he commanded through his teeth.

  Once more, Corinne reluctantly laid her cheek on the desk.

  “Please, Papa! Please. You can’t! Please. It’s not right!”

  “Soon, little one, you will learn I can do whatever I please, especially to your body. My possession. My trophy.”

  He watched as her tiny shoulders slumped, her body going limp as she accepted her fate.

  “Good girl. Now reach back and spread your bottom cheeks open nice and wide for Papa. Don’t make me ask twice, Corinne.”

  Defeated, she reached back and awkwardly opened her bottom cheeks the way Nanny had taught her earlier that morning.

  Pulling the cork off the vial of oil, Lucian held it aloft over her prone form. Tipping the vial over, he watched as the fragrant, gold-toned liquid dripped onto her soft skin then trickled down past her puckered bottom hole.