by Blake,Zoe
“Place your right hand up against your cheek,” he instructed. “Good girl. Now lick your lips.”
Sarah licked her lips at his command.
Pierce looked through the lens. She was beautiful. Her thick raven hair so long it reached the floor in waves of curls. Her hand resting against her slightly flushed cheek. The way she laid there like an innocent wanton. Her bright green eyes flashing untutored desire…an unknown need…all while she kept her legs chastely covered and closed…for now.
After taking a few exposures, Pierce once again approached her prone form.
Leaning down on his haunches, Pierce touched her soft cheek. He picked up one shining lock of hair, testing its weight, allowing the silken length to flow down his fingers. He then gently stroked the silver fox trim along the collar of the dressing gown…up and down…up and down…before dipping his fingers into the inside edge. Sarah held her breath as he continued the same motion, only this time his knuckles slid along her bare skin and the soft linen of her chemise. With each downward stroke, his hand moved a few more inches lower. Sarah’s lips fell open on a gasp when he brushed the top of her breast…still he continued the rhythmic caress…up and down…up and down…slipping further and further down.
As the backside of his fingers skimmed between her breasts and navel, he could feel she had removed her corset. It would not have presented any challenge. He rather enjoyed cutting the last one off her. The shy act of boldness pleased him. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he slowly loosened the belt to the dressing gown, allowing it to drape open. He could see the faint outline of her dark pink nipples through the almost translucent fabric of her chemise.
“No, I…”
“Shhh, love.”
He continued to slowly run his fingers along her linen covered skin, lingering over the flat planes of her stomach. Once or twice tracing his fingers even lower to graze the absolute top of her thighs.
Sarah’s mind whirled. Watching his large tanned hand move along her body, slowly in languid strokes, was sending her senses in a twirl. Everywhere he touched seemed to come alive with pricks and tingles. When he stared at her with those deep sapphire eyes, so intense, so determined, it was almost her undoing. She had to close her eyes to try to snatch back the thin threads of sanity he threatened to undo. It was almost worse. With her eyes closed, she was even more sensitized to the movement of his hand. She heard a faint rustle as he adjusted his position to kneel before her. Using both his hands, she could feel the gentle pull on her chemise as he tugged on the small ivory ribbon keeping it closed.
One. There were two more ribbons. The tiny silk ribbons her only protection from him. Two. He had pulled the second bow free. Another tug. Three.
Sarah felt the undergarment slide open to her navel and whisper away from her body, to fall to her sides, exposing her breasts to his view. Keeping her eyes clenched closed, she tried to remind herself he had glimpsed her breasts earlier when he saved her life from that tight corset. The thought failed to calm her nerves. This was so very, very different.
Still he remained silent. Still stroking her skin…up and down…up and down…one long lingering caress. Then, Pierce leaned close and placed an open mouthed kiss on her right pert nipple.
Shocked, Sarah’s eyes flew open as she made to rise up off the bench.
Pierce quickly bit down on her nipple, keeping her in place.
Sarah groaned from the pain…and something more primal.
Once she stilled, he rewarded her by swirling his tongue around the bruised bud, soothing the hurt.
“Tell me to bite your other nipple.” He whispered the harsh command against the soft, underside of her breast before running his tongue along the crease.
“Please,” she begged. “I can’t. It hurt.”
Pierce nipped at the delicate skin of her breast, “Tell me,” he growled.
“Please…please bi…bite my…my other…oh please don’t make me!” she whimpered.
This time, Pierce bit the lush side curve, harder, leaving a faint red crescent mark on her flawless creamy skin.
“Ow! Oh! Oh! I’ll say it! I’ll say it!” she pleaded. “Please bite my nipple! Please!”
Pierce smiled against her vulnerable skin, allowing the smooth flat surface of his teeth to press slightly into her flesh. Then he turned his attention to her left nipple. Licking his lips as if in anticipation of a sweet morsel, he latched on to her pink nipple, pulling it deep into his mouth. The edge of his teeth scraping against the tender bud.
Sarah fisted her hands into the folds of the dressing gown. Her knees drew up, protectively. Whimpering from the pain, knowing he would not stop till he wanted to, regardless of her discomfit.
Swirling his tongue around the nub, he returned to her right nipple giving it another taste before rising to his full height.
Sarah felt dazed. Watching as he stared down at her from his towering height. He looked like some powerful Greek god or Roman centurion looking over his spoils of war.
Taking a step away, Pierce returned to his camera.
“Look at me, Sarah,” he commanded. “Now tilt your chin. Arch your back for me, love.”
Sarah was helpless to disobey.
It would be a stunning photograph, mused Pierce. Her wide eyes liquid and full of promise. The glint of light off her wet nipples. The barest shadow of her cunny through the thin linen of her chemise. Her knees drawn up in a vulnerable almost child-like pose belying her wanton posture.
“You were a very good girl. Would you like to play with the small camera now?”
Sarah could only nod, only barely hearing the words he said, more focusing on the deep, hushed tones of his voice.
Pierce walked over to the large wooden cabinet and opened one small drawer. He returned to her side, carrying four long purple silk scarves.
“First, you need to be punished,” he stated nonchalantly.
Sarah bolted upright. “What? But…”
“You didn’t think I failed to notice your arrival at a quarter past when you were due at the hour, did you love?”
“But…I…”
“Were you or were you not warned to arrive on time or there would be consequences?”
“Yes, but…”
“There will be no excuses, little one,” he stated firmly.
“I don’t want another spanking,” she whined, tears filling her eyes.
“Now we both know that is not entirely true. Nevertheless, this punishment will not be a spanking.”
Sarah felt a momentary rush of relief. Quickly followed by a cold dread of the unknown.
“What are you going to do?” she asked tremulously.
“You will find out soon enough. Place your hands over your head.”
Sarah hesitated.
“You will not like the consequences if you force me to repeat myself,” he made the comment softly but there was a hard edge.
A tear slipped down her cheek as Sarah slowly raised her arms above her head. She could not contain a whimper the moment his strong hand enclosed her tiny wrist pulling it up against the wooden post of the bench. He quickly and deftly wrapped the cool silk around her wrists several times before then securing it with a bow to the post. He repeated the gesture with her left arm. Sarah instinctively pulled on the binds. They did not budge.
Pierce turned, giving her his back. Reaching out his left hand, he let it glide down the full length of her body before wrapping around one trim ankle.
“No, please, not my ankles too!” she pleaded, bending her knee in an attempt to pull free.
Pierce ignored her pleas. Wrapping the silk bonds around her ankle and securing it to the lower post. He then moved to the end of the upholstered bench. Sarah bent her free leg up, twisting to the side in a futile attempt to avoid the inevitable. With a little more force than necessary, Pierce snatched her leg back, stretching it wide, before securing her ankle to the final post.
Pierce took a moment to appreciate the view. Her legs were f
orced open but not obscenely so, just wide enough to fit his hips. Her chemise still covered her modesty, her cunny in shadow under the linen draping. With her arms stretched up, her back was forced to arch, pushing out her round full breasts. He could still make out the faint crescent outline of his bite mark on her flesh. Her glorious hair fell about her like a drape. One day soon, he would use those long tresses to bind her, he thought with a secret smile.
Sarah closed her eyes, tilting her head to the side, unable to bear the humiliation of his blanket scrutiny.
“I’m afraid this chemise is going to get in the way of your punishment.”
That was the only warning she received before he fisted the material at her navel and easily tore it away as if it were mere tissue. Sarah cried out in alarm but was powerless to stop him. He looked down at her sweet cunny, up till now he had only gotten teasing glimpses of the hidden gem. Unlike her dark sable hair, the curls covering her mons were soft brown and sparse, barely a whisper, allowing him to see her soft nether lips slightly covered with dew.
Returning to the cabinet, Pierce opened one of the tall doors, when he turned back, Sarah started to cry in earnest when she saw the object in his hand.
“No. No. No! I don’t want to do this. I’ve changed my mind. You cannot punish me with that…it’s for horses!” she wailed.
Pierce stroked the long stiff length of the riding crop he held in his hand. It really was a beautiful piece of handicraft. The handle was carved deer antler. The sturdy shaft golden Malacca cane. The braiding and keeper made of soft black leather.
“It really is adorable you think you have a choice in the matter,” he darkly intoned stalking towards her.
“I do! I do have a choice,” she sniffed. “You can’t do this.” Sarah struggled against her binds but they were too tight, she was trapped. Lost in the sensual haze of his caress and the foggy memory of her confused emotions from the earlier spanking, Sarah allowed herself to be caught up in his lascivious game but now it had become too real. Her early misgivings that he was too dangerous, too overwhelming for her came crashing to the fore.
Stroking her cheek with the flat leather keeper, Pierce gave her a bemused smile. “My dear, I captured your free will for my own the very moment you allowed me to touch you on the street.”
Sarah gasped, knowing the truth in the harsh statement.
Pierce glided the keeper down her cheek, over the curve of her jaw, stopping briefly at her collarbone before laying it to rest right down her middle. The heavy antler handle resting against the overly sensitive bundle of nerves hidden between her legs.
Sarah whimpered.
Pierce picked up the black box camera. This was the first time he would be using the early model and he could not think of a better subject. The freedom to be able to hold the camera in one hand and easily reach the shutter button opened up infinite possibilities for the type of photographs he wanted to explore with his little minx. The added benefit of numerous exposures only increased its usefulness.
Pierce stood at the end of the bench, lining up the frame.
“I don’t want my photograph taken,” Sarah said petulantly.
“I didn’t ask,” he responded firmly.
The black hard edge of the riding crop as it laid along the white softness of Sarah’s curves gave it an almost sinister look. Pierce released the shutter before once more setting the camera aside.
Keeping his intractable gaze firmly locked on hers, Pierce worked the silver-plated buttons of his waistcoat, shrugging it off his shoulders. Sarah watched silently. Fascinated despite herself as he tugged at each bone button of his linen shirt. With each button, more tan, hard-muscled skin was revealed. He truly was an enigma. Most of the English gentlemen she had met were pasty, soft and weak appearing. Not him. He was dark, hard and strong. As he shrugged free of his linen shirt, Sarah was afforded a first real look at the tattoo she suspected him of having. Covering the entire top of his right shoulder were three large intertwined rings, each with a strange symbol in the center. It looked exotic and almost menacing.
He really was magnificent. She had only seen the nude male form etched in cold marble. He was all warm-blooded male. A chest etched with muscle, dark scattering of hair, a flat stomach that dipped at his waistband showing the hint of a shadow, the hint of the forbidden. Keeping on his black trousers and knee boots he looked imposing and powerful.
Sarah felt her whole body tremble but was it out of fear or anticipation?
Picking up the riding crop, his knuckles brushed the soft curls of her cunny. Sarah moaned in response trying to twist her knees to shut her legs out of shame, to no avail.
“It occurs to me, you have never properly addressed me as my lord,” Pierce observed as he moved the riding crop’s keeper in small circles over her stomach.
Sarah could not deny it. As an American, she wasn’t terribly comfortable with all the British titles and formal forms of address so she usually skirted by with the occasional respectful, sir or madam. She stayed silent.
Pierce smiled, it not quite reaching his azure eyes, lit bright with dark promise.
Brushing the soft leather tip along her lower lip, he demanded, “I want to see this beautiful mouth sweetly beg me to punish you. Don’t forget to properly address me.”
“Please don’t ask it of me,” she pleaded, her body still trembling.
Pierce raised the crop and brought the keeper swiftly down on her left nipple. The sound of leather connecting with skin making an ominous crack in the quite room.
Sarah howled with shock and pain. Her hips lurching off the padded bench. The pain so intense she looked down anxiously to see if she were bleeding.
“Try again.”
“Oh god! Please, that hurt too much. Please!” she pleaded.
“No.” Pierce snapped the crop against her other nipple. Sarah’s body twisted fighting the bonds as she screeched in torment.
Finally learning her lesson, Sarah begged, “My lord, please stop. I cannot take it.”
Pierce rubbed the soft leather tip between her full breasts. Sarah held her breath in painful expectancy.
The tip slowly traveled the length of her body, stopping over her exposed cunny. He gently tapped the sensitive place several times.
Sarah let out a low mewl. “Please, my lord. Please don’t”
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Not what I want to hear, my love.”
His punishment was swift and fierce. Bringing the crop down on her vulnerable cunny in three successive smacks. The leather tip hitting its mark over her tiny clit. The shaft catching the delicate edge of her soft nether lips.
Sarah forced her head back and screamed for all she was worth. Her fingernails dug deep into her palms as she pulled on her binds. The pain was as swift and intense as the punishment. The previously secret space between her soft thighs throbbed and ached.
Pierce watched as a pink flush spread over her cunny lips. Soon they would be a full dark pink and generously swollen from his ministrations. Looking down into her tear-streaked face, he ordered in a low growl, “Tell me what I want to hear or face an even more severe punishment.”
It was not his intention to punish her too severely. He needed to initiate her into the darker more extreme play he would soon desire from his little minx but if she pushed him further Pierce would alter his plans and unleash his true hungers on her delicate skin.
Sarah blinked away the tears and took several steadying breaths. The burning pain had dulled into a pulsing heat sending shameful tremors between her thighs and straight to her middle. “Please punish me, my lord,” she whispered. Her eyes lowered.
There was a moment of quiet and then a metallic click. Sarah looked up to see he had taken another photograph with the small black camera box.
Pierce felt a surge of elation. He had captured her moment of submission perfectly. Those stunning downcast eyes. The sheen of tears brightening her flushed cheeks. The slightly swollen cunny lips from the crop whipping.
Pierce did not know why he deserved such a lush, alluring creature practically falling in his lap but he already knew he was holding on to her.
“Say it again,” his harsh need giving his voice a threatening edge.
“Please punish me, my lord.”
“Raise your bottom up. Offer your cunny to me.”
A fresh teardrop fell, but Sarah obeyed. Lifting her hips high at his command.
Pierce could see the soft swells of her bottom cheeks. Taking the crop he boldly stroked down the crease with the wooden shaft, causing Sarah to shiver even more violently.
“You are being such a good girl. Only a few more strokes from the crop and then I’m going to kiss it and make it all better,” he soothed.
Sarah felt her heart leap from his praise. Her excitement was short lived. She watched in mixed horror and apprehension as he raised one strong arm. She knew instinctively this time he would not stop until he was finished with her punishment.
The crop met its mark over her cunny first. Followed by three more direct hits. Her nether lips were now swollen and flushed a deep pink. The throbbing sending confusing sensations rushing over her whole body. Then each soft, inner thigh received a kiss from the crop, leaving red welts on her pale skin.
Despite her intention to prove to him she could take the punishment like a good girl, Sarah’s resolve crumbled.
“Please,” she cried. “Stop! Stop! It hurts! It burns! My lord, please!” In her pain-filled daze, Sarah lowered her hips. Pierce responded with two whips each to her already aching nipples.
“Raise those hips,” he growled.
Sarah’s hips shot off the blue velvet fabric as if it too was causing her pain.
Pierce twisted his wrist and placed the crop under her now arched body. Her bottom cheeks were tightly clenched in expectation. It only seemed to make the soreness worse. Just when she thought he would not strike her bottom, he raised the crop in a brisk succession of bruising taps. He used mostly the unrelenting wooden shaft of the crop. Unlike the stinging pain of the leather tip, this caused a deeper more lasting tenderness.
