Innocence Enslaved

by Maddie Taylor

  “Corbet, please. Had I wanted to run from you—”

  “Enough. No more excuses.” A chill swept over her as he stepped to the side, moving his body, the final barrier between her bare behind and the crowd of ravening lustful men. The first resounding crack of his hand upon her skin rang out in the stable.

  “Please,” she implored. “At least make them leave.”

  He ignored her plea. “Who brought you back?” His words were tight, each punctuated with a smack of his hand upon her backside. The blows were sharp and stinging, Emilia found it impossible to remain still, arching and twisting to avoid the next swat. She had planned on telling him about Lomb; now she wasn’t so sure. He was furious and she didn’t want to cause her friend any trouble if he should decide to go after him.

  “Tell me. Now!” he insisted, as he landed four more smacks to her burning bottom.

  “Ow. Ow! Please… stop!” She danced wildly each time his hand found its mark. “I can’t,” she sobbed.

  Abruptly, he stopped and stalked across the barn. She watched, her vision watery and blurred as he pulled something down from the wall.

  “Now we’ll really have a show,” someone chuckled.

  “Get out,” Corbet roared, making the men scatter. He stormed to the door and tossed the few remaining stragglers out, before he slid the heavy panels closed with a bang. He moved in behind her, his arm wrapping around her middle, gripping her tightly. Bending his head, he spoke next to her ear, his voice deceptively low while the message was ominous. “It is you and me alone now, Emilia. You will tell me what I want to know or you will feel the heat of my paddle until you do. You don’t want that, trust me.”

  There was a long, drawn-out, excruciating pause as she struggled to make a decision. It was made easier when he sighed heavily and stepped to the side, then his wide hand rained down fast and hard.

  She cried out as a flurry of swats landed across both cheeks without letting up. He covered every inch of her bottom, moving lower to use stinging upstrokes as he swatted the lower curves near her thighs. After a particularly stinging blow fell low on the crease, her resolve broke. “It was Lomb! A family friend from Melbourne.” He stopped, although the hot throbbing sting did not.

  He let her go and moved to where she could see him, standing with his arms crossed, the paddle he’d threatened to use dangling from one hand. It was at least two feet long, made of gleaming wood and of a thickness that she knew would make her confess to anything, including crimes she hadn’t even thought of committing.

  “Tell me more about this Lomb.”

  “He’s a knight,” she sniffled pitifully as she wiped her wet cheeks on her upraised arms so that she could see him clearly. She hadn’t intended to say more, but once she saw his dissatisfied glare, she gave up the rest. “A childhood friend of my father’s, I’ve known him since I was a babe,” she added shakily. “He’s more like an uncle than my real ones are. He was sent to rescue me.”

  As she fought to regain her composure, she inhaled deeply. She still trembled from head to toe, and her bottom burned. She wished her hands were free so she could rub her blazing behind. Hanging her head, she admitted her foolishness silently; she should have listened to Lomb and let him take her home.

  “So why didn’t you?”

  Her head came up. “What?”

  “Why didn’t you go home with Lomb? What made you come back?”

  She realized then that she’d made her admission aloud. How could she have been so stupid as to let herself think coming back—of her own accord—would cause him to somehow think more of her? That perhaps he might change his mind about love and kiss her. She was a fool lost in her own folly. The man had made it perfectly clear that this was nothing more than a platonic arrangement.

  “I don’t like repeating myself, Emilia. Why didn’t you go home with him?” The anger was gone from his voice, yet the sternness remained, as did his determination to get an answer. His footsteps scuffed in the straw and she felt him close, flinching when his hand touched her back, thinking he might spank her more for her hesitation.

  “Easy,” he murmured. “No more spanking now, but I want you to talk to me, dove.”

  She didn’t want to, preferring to melt into a puddle and disappear into the straw beneath her feet. Sweaty and hot, her face wet and flushed, she knew she must look a fright. And she was confused from the wild tilt of emotions that surfaced whenever he was around, excited to see him one moment, shamefully embarrassed the next.

  Two big teardrops rolled off her chin and fell to the ground. He caught her face between his hands, his thumbs sweeping out to tenderly brush her cheeks, taking more tears with them. The fiery temper he had exuded only moments ago seemed to have evaporated, replaced by tenderness. The sharp contrast in such a short time made her head spin, as did the gentle touch and caring regard he was showing her now. It also sent a shiver down her spine that mingled with the fire still blazing on her bottom.

  His nearness started a tingling deep between her thighs and she bit her lip to keep silent. How could he possibly arouse her after having exposed her so heartlessly to a bunch of strangers and let them watch as he blistered her bottom?

  “Look at me,” he demanded, continuing to caress her cheeks with his thumbs. Lower lip trembling, she peeped at him between her wet spiky lashes, focusing first on his chin, then his lips, which were soft now, no longer the hard angry line. When she lifted her gaze to his, she was relieved to see the recent volatility was gone, in its stead warmth, compassion, and what she thought might be regret.

  He worked to free her wrists with quick, controlled movements, then unhooked and lowered them. As he did so, he asked once more, “Why did you come back, little one?”

  “I don’t know,” came her small, distant reply, “other than—” No! Something inside stopped her admission. She wouldn’t confess that she was falling in love with him, not after what just happened. Instead, she told him half of the truth. “I didn’t want to leave this way, without…” Her words trailed off as the rope fell away. It had left red marks on her fair skin, which he began rubbing with his thumbs

  “Without what?” he prompted.

  “You saved me from what would have been a horrible fate. I felt it was only right that I come back and thank you, or say goodbye, or live up to my end of the bargain.” Emilia watched his hands glide over her skin. “I know it sounds foolish.” The sensations created by his gentle massage crept slowly up her arms and onto her shoulders. She liked when he was quiet and touched her like this.

  “Emilia,” he murmured low as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a warm embrace. She noted the touch of anguish in his voice before she rested her head upon his chest, savoring the feel of his enveloping arms, comforting her and making her feel safe.

  “I was very worried when I couldn’t find you,” he said, his chin resting on the top of her head while his fingers located the end of her braid, loosening the tie that held it. “When several townsfolk told me they saw you disappear into an alley, I was angry. I warned you so many times that you shouldn’t run from me because I could no longer protect you if you did.”

  He unraveled the thick braid, combing his fingers through the waves while new tears formed in her eyes. She inhaled deeply, taking in his woodsy masculine scent while enjoying the slow stroke of his fingers in her hair.

  “Terrible things could have happened to you and I was powerless to stop them.” She felt his hands on her shoulders, moving her back until he could see her face. “I worried someone would take you to the manor rather than bring you back to me.” There was a long pause as he searched her eyes. “Then when you came back, I was overwhelmed with relief, but it was too late to avoid your fate. With dozens of people aware of your escape, and a dozen more here tonight aware of your return, you gave me no choice except to punish you, sweet girl. I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same if it had been only you and me, I was that worried and angry. I feel sure, however, that
I would have first allowed my anger to cool and would have listened, before spanking you. Please forgive me.”

  “So you spanked me in front of them with reason?”

  “Runaways are required to be punished severely and carry a mark of Lancore.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “A whipping is usually the penalty and carried out in the public square.”

  “How barbaric.”

  “Agreed, that is why I chose to administer your correction here, before enough witnesses so that word will be carried back to town and folks, especially those at the manor, will be satisfied that you have paid a satisfactory price.”

  “A mark of Lancore,” she repeated under her breath as her hands flew to her behind. It was very tender, surely he hadn’t…

  “Your bottom has a rosy glow, which will soon fade. The heavy paddle, however, would have left bruises and welts.”

  “You made them think you intended to use it.”

  “That was the plan and the reason I shut them out,” he nodded, brushing a few tendrils of hair out of her face.

  “But you sent them away. How will they know you were severe enough with me?”

  “Because you howled like a banshee with that flurry of spanks at the end, enough to convince any lingering voyeurs that you were thoroughly chastened.”

  She eyed the thick board with the leather-wrapped handle that lay where he’d dropped it in the hay at the base of the post. “I thank you for sparing me that, though the spanks still hurt, sir.”

  “I’m sure they did, but they were nothing compared to the pain of stout oak on your behind or a bullwhip, I assure you.”

  His actions had confused and scared her, but they had been an act. Well, maybe not fully, not if her hot bottom was the judge, and he had said some of his anger, no less the worry, had been real. He’d done it to save her, strange as it was; in Lancore, which was a bizarre and twisted land, she was learning that people did what they must to endure. It seemed that she and Corbet were no different.

  Overwhelmed by what he had revealed, all she could do was nod as another tear escaped to track slowly down her cheek. His face inched toward hers and her heart began to race, thinking he might kiss her. Expectantly, her lids fluttered down, waiting for his lips to touch hers, envisioning it, as she had so many times in her daydreams.

  His lips made contact at last, but instead of a sweet or passionate first kiss on the mouth, he pressed a warm, lingering one to her forehead. The hope in her heart sank like a rock tossed in the creek.

  “Forgive me for displaying you so, sweetling. Your good deed in coming back to me should not have born such a reward. I’ll understand if you cannot honor my request, for in truth, I’m having a hard time forgiving myself. I saw no other way to protect you from much worse.” He broke from their embrace, retrieving a small round tin from one of the shelves along the wall. “This is a cooling balm for the burn on your bottom. Come.” He took her hand and led her to a wooden stool near one of the flickering lanterns.

  “Over my lap,” he ordered, with a pat on his thigh. Though he was contrite, the sense of command had not left him.

  Emilia found herself obeying and positioned herself as he’d asked. She didn’t object when he rearranged her to his liking. It put her at an angle where her hands touched the floor in front, while his long legs left her feet dangling above the straw strewn floor on the other side. The cool contrast of his palm resting on her hot cheeks felt so good that a quiet sigh passed her lips, then he rubbed on the balm and the icy sting ended that.

  “Ouch!” she squealed, trying to jerk away from his stroking fingers. Corbet held her still, slathering on more as her head snapped around. “That burns.”

  “It will last only for a few moments,” he reassured her. “Then it will draw out the heat. By morning, you’ll barely know you’ve been spanked.”

  She watched as he dipped his fingers back into the tin and collected more of the stingy stuff. Clenching both her teeth and her buttocks in anticipation of more chilling fire, she waited. When it didn’t come, she glanced up to see him struggling to contain a smile.

  “Is something funny?” she inquired.

  “You took ten good strokes from my belt much better than this mild spanking.”

  “Mild!”

  “Yes, little one, you’re barely pink.” He failed to hide the upward curve of his lips as he went back to applying the balm. “Don’t tense up. It only makes it worse. In fact, don’t watch at all.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist, and raised one of his knees so that she pitched toward the floor, blocking her view of what he was doing. All she could see was the muscles in his arm and back, flexing beneath his shirt as he moved.

  She felt cheated. For the first time since her unorthodox behavior the night before, he had a genuine smile on his face and she couldn’t see it. Finding it disarmingly devastating, she adored his smile when it overtook his features, from the flash of white contrasting with his tanned skin, to the way it reached his eyes, making them twinkle, and the little crinkles that flared out on the sides.

  His fingers continued to rub her intimate flesh, massaging slow and gentle. The sting dissipated quickly as he’d promised, leaving her to enjoy the careful meandering of his fingers. She would gladly take the brief sting for the pleasure of his lingering touch. He scooped up some more, however, and the icy burn landed lower, on a particularly sensitive area, in the crease between her cheek and thigh and dangerously close to the space between her legs. She yelped, bucking her hips.

  “Shh,” he murmured, tightening his arm as he rubbed it in. “Almost done.”

  She whimpered at the delicious tingles his fingers created, and when, for a brief moment, the backs of his fingers grazed her curls, she could feel her juices gathering. Emilia couldn’t fight her arousal any longer. His touch was a sensual torture too exquisite to resist. No matter what she forced herself to think about—or not think about—her body responded shamelessly, especially when his fingers came close to her center. She moaned, moving her legs apart, unable to stop herself.

  “W-what are you doing?” she queried breathily.

  He didn’t answer, holding her tight as he kept fanning the flames of her need with the slow, leisurely play. Finding it unbearable, she wiggled, trying to ease the ache. That’s when she felt it. Like an iron rod wedged against her hip, the hard length of him had surged to life. It dug into her flesh, and she reveled in the discomfort, a testament that he wasn’t unaffected by her after all.

  She parted her legs more and tilted her bottom invitingly. He responded by sifting his fingers through her curls until they met with the plump swollen lips between her thighs. A long deep moan rolled up from her chest as he slowly caressed them. The residue of the stinging balm remaining on his fingers added to the excitement, like ice and fire, the tingling sensation causing her sex to clench uncontrollably. She waited, ready to ignite, hoping desperately that his fingers would explore further, and willing to beg his mercy if they did not.

  “Let me give you pleasure, little one, to make up for the pain.” The rumble of desire that emanated from deep in his chest made her squirm wantonly on his lap. “Be still and trust me,” he urged.

  “Yes, sir.” Her answer came out so soft she doubted that he heard.

  Whether he did or not didn’t seem to affect him or his plan for her, as his fingers slid along each side of her slit, separating the folds and spreading her open. Heat rushed to her face, knowing he had a perfect view of her secrets and the lewd wetness he had created. She tensed, grabbing onto the legs of the stool for support and letting out a strangled squeal, as the tip of one finger located the pulsing spot that had been begging for his touch.

  His name escaped in a throaty moan from her parted lips as his finger circled slowly, gliding easily through her copious wetness. Nothing had ever felt so amazing. Her body quivered under his ministrations as the hard reminder of his desire jerked beneath her. That made her thin
k of nothing except having him inside her. She instinctively ached to be filled in a way she had never experienced, but knew would help assuage the fiery need. She didn’t care if she gave up her innocence when he took her; she needed to feel him there.

  “You’re so close, dove. Surrender to the pleasure.” He rolled her swollen nub between his finger and thumb, applying more pressure until she thought she would burst.

  Then suddenly, every muscle in her body tightened as she spiraled higher.

  “That’s it, sweetling,” he urged softly. “Let go for me.”

  Gripping the legs of the stool tightly, she focused on Corbet’s arousing touch, but her mind leapt to what Lomb had done to that woman, driving into her in a carnal and decadent joining that would send her flying apart. Then it happened; she did come apart, or so it seemed as her body jerked involuntarily. She cried out as indescribable pleasure surged through her in powerful waves. Through it all, she was distantly aware of his firm hands holding her close, stroking her soothingly as he murmured words of reassurance, making her feel safe as she lost control.

  When the sensations started to ebb, her legs trembled and her arms were weak. She relinquished the fierce grasp on the wood that surprisingly had not splintered asunder. As she came back to earth, she shivered from the thin sheen of sweat that had broken out on her skin and realized that she lay limp and heavy like wet linen over his lap.

  The thumping in her chest and ears had started to calm when his hands gently turned her over. He slipped both arms around her to support her spent, languid body as he cuddled her close.

  “What did you do to me?” she asked in wonder.

  He chuckled. “I helped you gain a woman’s pleasure, my sweet.”

  She could see the unquenched desire burning within him as he softly caressed her parted lips. A jolt of excitement stirred in her belly. He could take her now and she’d welcome him. With open arms and parted thighs, she’d relish the hard length of him sinking into her creamy center, filling her to overflowing as he too took his pleasure.