by Blake,Zoe
To show her he had the right…had taken the right.
Drawing deceptively soft circles with the tips of his fingers on her lower back to the swell of her bum, his voice had a rough, sensual quality. “Ask for your punishment, Sarah.”
“Never,” she shouted through her gathering tears.
The brougham rocked and swayed as it made its way through the bustling London streets. The energy of daily life pulsing about them. Blissfully unaware of the carnal display inside.
Pierce’s only response was a swift round of stinging spanks. One after another…after another…and yet another. Each one landing on her vulnerable skin with harsh precision. Flipping his wrist so it was mainly the blunt end of his deft fingers catching her flesh. The result was a stinging flash unlike the warm bruised feeling from the contact of his whole hand.
The biting, burning pain had Sarah lifting her hips with each strike only to shrink away from the next one. The movement of her hips lifting and lowering down on the engorged weight of his cock as it strained against the confines of his trousers only spurred him on.
“Ask for your punishment,” he demanded.
Sarah swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. With a defiant shake of her head, she stubbornly said, “No.”
Pierce smiled. He was hoping she would continue to defy him.
Using his full hand, he began to spank her in earnest. The small interior rang with the rhythmic sounds of skin connecting with skin. Her bottom jiggled and swayed with each spank. Pierce watched as her pale skin blossomed a bright cherry red from his ministrations. Raising his arm, he brought his right hand down with force on her left center cheek, followed by the right. He concentrated his efforts on the top swell center of her bottom.
“Stop! Stop! It hurts,” she cried.
The stinging pain of earlier had heightened into a penetrating heat. The relentless throbbing torturing Sarah. She reached back with her hand in a weak gesture of protection.
“Remove your hand,” he reprimanded.
“No! You have to stop!” whined Sarah.
Pierce grabbed her wrist and wrenched it upwards, anchoring it to her lower back. Losing her purchase, Sarah’s face was now pushed more deeply into the plush velvet upholstery. Her sobs muffled. The strength of his grip on her small wrist. The feel of his strong thighs beneath her middle. His hand controlling and dominating her with each contact to her vulnerable, bruised derriere. The awareness of being completely at his mercy somehow as titillating as it was agonizing.
“Stop! I’ll say it! Please!”
Feeling the warmth of her skin as he ran his hand over her punished bottom, Pierce stopped to listen. Sarah was momentarily distracted. The feel of his hand bringing both comfort and distress. The gentle caress lulling her while still causing pain as it pressed on her swollen, chastened skin.
“Please…” she stopped and licked her lips, trying to force the words. “Please punish me,” she whispered.
“Please, who?”
Sarah closed her eyes. To say it would be submission.
Pierce ran his two middle fingers between her clenched thighs. The tips rubbing her sensitive nub.
“Who, my spirited little minx.”
Against her mind’s will, Sarah lifted her hips, craving more of his touch. The pain only emphasizing the pleasurable ripples every time his fingers moved over her forbidden place.
“Please, my lord,” she moaned.
“Good girl,” he murmured. Feeling the anxious press of his cock, Pierce continued, “I will have to punish you later. Right now I need to be inside you.”
Dismayed, Sarah cried, “That wasn’t my punishment?”
“No, my love. That was just a spanking for failing to answer a direct command. Your punishment for defying me comes later.”
Placing a hand on her middle, Pierce forced her to sit up. While on her knees, he grabbed her hips and swiveled them till Sarah was straddling his thighs, with her back to him.
“Hold on to the leather straps,” he ordered.
Sarah looked up to see the thick leather loops sewn to the carriage’s roof. They were there to support passengers during a rough ride over country terrain or large cobblestones. Tentatively reaching up, she gripped the cold leather of one loop with her left hand. It felt hard and unresisting. The thick stitches cutting into her delicate palm. She struggled to reach the other with her right hand. They were easily over an arms span apart. Bringing it closer with her fingertips, Sarah gripped the second leather loop.
The position forced her chest awkwardly forward causing her to raise up and tighten her knees against his lap to stay steady.
Pierce pushed his fingers under the flimsy ribbon rope keeping the pink draping in place at her waist. With a harsh tug, he snapped the rope. The pink draping fell away with a soft swoosh. He was met with the delectable sight of Sarah’s softly rounded bottom pressed against this groin. Her already tiny waist, cinched even tighter by her ivory silk corset. The pale, flawless skin of her upper back and neck exposed. A few loose curls of her raven’s wing hair falling gently over her shoulders. Her stocking clad thighs forced wide open to straddle his lap.
Reaching between her thighs, his knuckles brushing the pinked skin of her bottom, Pierce unbuttoned his trousers. Wrapping his hand around the thick base, he pulled it free. The seam of her bottom cheeks framed his shaft. Placing his thumb just under the crest of the head, he shifted his hips upwards, as he pressed on his cock. The movement forced the heavy, mushroom head between her cheeks.
Sarah groaned and shifted forward, away from the teasing pressure. It only served to open her cheeks wider, allowing his cock to glide along the edge. Pierce slowly thrust, relishing in the press of her bottom cheeks on either side of his shaft. Unable to hold back any longer, he steadied her with one restraining hand on the back of her thigh, as he positioned his cock at her tight entrance with the other. Not for one moment did he think he would not find it slick with her own arousal. His beautiful little American loved her punishments whether she would admit it or not.
Forcing his cock past her feeble resistance, Pierce felt tight pressure as her body acquiesced and pulled him in. The head of his cock was inside her wet heat. Her petals closed around the top of the shaft. Reaching up, Pierce filled each hand with the soft weight of her rounded bottom.
“No! It hurts,” moaned Sarah as he squeezed her punished bottom.
Pierce watched as her pain flushed skin turned white from his strong grip. Pushing his thumbs between her bottom seam, he opened her cheeks wide. From his vantage point, he could see the delicate folds of her cunny as it kissed the head of his cock. Raising his hips, he watched as his thick shaft forced her tight passage open.
Sarah groaned as his cock slowly pushed its way deep inside her still sore cunny. Her body cramped as her tender passage was stretched and pulled by the unrelenting push of his swollen girth. He didn’t stop till he was seated to the base. Tormenting her senses. The feel of his hands on her throbbing bottom. The invasive push of his cock. The humiliation of having her cheeks spread open wide for his scrutiny and pleasure. The balmy smell of bay rum, tobacco and her own musky arousal permeating the tight air of the carriage interior.
“Hold on tight,” he groaned as he shifted his hips to pull his cock back, watching as it emerged from the tight confines of her small cunny glistening with her dew.
Unable to do anything but obey the dark command, Sarah adjusted her grasp on the leather handles, hissing as the tough material bit into her soft skin.
Pierce ran his hands over her small waist, feeling the contrast of silk and bone as he caressed her over her corset. Splaying his hands wide, he dug his fingers into the top of the corset, forcing it down. Her breasts spilled over the lace edge. Pierce took each in a punishing grip. Feeling her erect nipples brush against the center of his palm, he ran the edge of his thumb over the sensitive tips. Sarah writhed and groaned, fighting his embrace as much as she leaned in to it.
One
powerful thrust and he was once again buried to the base. Sarah cried out, biting her lip against the pleasurable pain. This time Pierce did not stop. Using his punitive hold on her breasts as leverage, he hammered his hips into her own. Her body only a vessel as he was lost in the primitive sensation of her cunny clasping his cock. His thrusts became more violent, more punitive. Her body rocked forward. Her arms numb from the strain. Still he thrust.
Releasing her right breast, his hand skimmed her belly to rest in the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. Spearing his forefinger through her cleft, he circled her clit with the tip of his finger. Applying gentle pressure as he rolled and flicked the sensitive bud.
“No! Don’t! Please, I don’t want it,” pleaded Sarah. Frightened as the feelings of pleasure overtook the pain. There was a delicious tightening in her middle. His cock pounded into her swollen flesh…filling her…using her…dominating her mind and body.
Pierce chuckled. “Yes you do, little one.” He pinched her clit, causing Sarah to howl with tormented exultation. “I’ll show you how just how much,” he whispered in her ear before giving it a quick nip.
Shifting his left hand to her lower back, he placed his thumb at the top of her bottom cleft. Then slowly gliding forward, he pressed the tip of his thumb against her puckered back passage. Tracing each subtle ridge, testing its resistance. He pushed, forcing the tip past her unyielding ring of muscle.
“Oh god! Stop! No! Ow…ow…ow,” sobbed Sarah.
Knowing without anything to slick her passage, he could tear her delicate rosebud but still wanting her to feel the threat of his mastery. Keeping the tip of his thumb buried to the knuckle pressing into her back passage, he lifted his hand up, hooking her.
“Ow! Oh…ow…please,” she whimpered not liking the sensation of having him touch such a darkly forbidden place.
Pierce ignored her pleas as he drove faster and stronger into her body. Holding her hips steady with his right hand on her mons and his left thumb pressed into her bottom, his thrusts increased with intensity. Knowing he was close, Pierce increased the pressure on her clit, swirling the pad of his finger in ever-tighter circles.
Flashes of white light. The hollow sound of her shallow breathing. Clenched muscles. The rough scratch of his jaw against her shoulder blade as he leaned in close, thrusting to the hilt. The feel of his hands…everywhere. Sarah stopped fighting and gave in to the roiling emotions and sensations overwhelming her. There was a tense moment of pressure. The sharp inhale of breath. A tightening of her grip on the leather loops before the sweet, warm glow of lethargy as the sweet feel of release flowed over her skin.
Pierce felt her body clench and then release around his cock. Knowing she had found her release, he drove into her now willing body several more times before finding his own release. Throwing his head back with a feral howl, he buried his cock deep into her sweet heat.
Sarah fell forward her head resting on the soft seat opposite them. Dizzy from the power of her release and the harsh, quickening of her own breath.
Pierce gathered her close. Her body cradled in the warmth of his powerful embrace. Brushing back the thick black curls shielding her face, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.
Rapping his knuckles on the roof of the carriage, signaling to the coachman it was time to return home, Pierce nuzzled her neck as he whispered in her ear, “We have to get you covered up, my little minx, that is until I get you behind closed doors.”
Sarah allowed him to adjust the pink drape till it covered her modestly. Using a long ribbon from her hair, he replaced the ribbon belt securing the fabric around her waist. This allowed her hair to fall down her back in a tousled, wanton mass. Pierce fisted a handful, bringing the silken tresses close to his face, breathing in the soft lavender scent of her soap. As much as he enjoyed her up swept hair and how it showed off her slender neck, he much preferred it tangled and down, proof of their lovemaking.
The carriage came to a slow halt. Sarah’s cheeks burned. His touch made her forget they were in a carriage with a coachman and all of London an arm’s length away.
Not waiting for the door to be opened, Sarah grasped the brass handle and wrenched it open herself. Quickly alighting, she planned to make a dash for Mrs. Needham’s green door. Surprised, she found herself within the stone confines of Lord Warrington’s courtyard at Regent’s Park.
Turning on him as he stepped from the carriage, she accused, “You said you were bringing me home!”
“I did…to my home.”
“But…I…”
Pierce grabbed her upper arm and dragged her up the stone steps. The door opened immediately, the ever-efficient Parker at its side.
“My lord.”
“Tell the cook to send up a tray of fresh ginger root with a knife. Then I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“As you wish,” being Parker’s only response to the odd request.
All Sarah heard was knife. Her cheeks only just suffused with color, now turned a pasty white.
Pushing her stocking feet into the plush carpet as she pulled back on her arm she tremulously asked, “What are those for?”
Pierce threw a calculating glance over his shoulder as he headed for the main staircase and his bedroom above.
“Your punishment of course.”
Chapter Nine
Sarah was dragged through a pair of heavy wooden doors. As the afternoon had waned, the fire was already lit, giving the room a warm, cozy glow. She could just make out the furnishings in the room. There was a central table and a set of gold embroidered upholstered chairs directly in front of the fire. A writing desk flanked by two small bookcases. A chiffonier topped with various cut crystal decanters filled no doubt with brandy and port. A massive wardrobe with a small dressing table adjacent covered with silver backed brushes and combs. Most imposing of all, a massive four-poster bed covered in bolsters and pillows. Every place she looked was rich polished mahogany, elaborate royal blue and gold brocades and silver. Even the ornaments on the mantel looked to be solid silver and Chinese porcelain.
While she was taking the measure of her surroundings, Sarah heard the distinctive metal click of a lock.
Sarah took a few hurried steps over the thick Persian carpet before turning to face Pierce.
Desperately clutching the now hopelessly wrinkled pink drape to her bosom, she warned, “If you try to kill me, I’ll scream!”
Pierce shrugged out of his fitted frock coat, placing it on a hook by the wardrobe.
Moving farther into the room, placing one of the plush fireside chairs between them, she continued, “I mean it! You had better let me go!”
Unbuttoning his waistcoat as he toed off his shoes, her words gave him pause. There was an unmistakable tightening in his chest when he heard the words ‘let me go’. Let her go? Never. She needed him. Needed his protection. While that pitiful excuse for a man today would probably not have harmed her, what of the next time? And the next? Mrs. Needham did not strike him as being overly concerned about where she sent her girls as long as there was a fat coin purse in it for her. A life in domestic service would be no better. With her comely face, it would be a matter of hours not even days before the sons of the household tried to force their attentions. There was also the possibility she would simply leave London and return to the Americas. Every scenario which crossed his mind only strengthened his resolve to keep her safe by his side. Well, relatively safe. There would be no protection for her from him and his intentions.
Sarah crept closer to the fire as he was turned away removing his watch and some coins from his trouser pockets. Slowly as to not draw attention to herself, Sarah reached behind her for the fire poker.
“Put that down before you hurt yourself,” he darkly commanded.
The sudden boom of his voice in the quiet bedroom startled Sarah. His back was turned, how could he have known?
Ignoring his command, Sarah picked up the heavy brass poker and stretched her arms out in front. The poker dipped and
swayed as she attempted to keep it steady.
“Stay back,” she cried, the fire poker swaying in front of her.
Pierce started to release the buttons down the front of his linen shirt. Taking in the site of his little spirited minx brandishing her burdensome weapon. Pulling the shirt off his shoulders, he tossed it aside and advanced on Sarah.
It wasn’t his broad and powerful chest or his sculpted arms or even his imposing height which alarmed Sarah. No. It was the look in his eyes. His brooding brow lowered. The flinty gleam in his sapphire blue eyes. The dark promise.
“And if I don’t?”
“It’s true! You intend to murder me!” agonized Sarah as she valiantly tried to keep the fire poker at a threatening height before her.
Having no care for the threat she imposed. Pierce prowled forward. Grabbing the poker with his left hand, he gave the instrument a sharp tug, sending Sarah falling into his arms. His right arm wrapped around her tiny waist like a band. Easily pulling the brass handle from her grasp, he tossed it aside. Fisting a handful of her silken curls, Pierce pulled down sharply, forcing her head back.
Looking down at her bright green eyes filling with tears, her full lips open on a gasp, her slender neck exposed and vulnerable, Pierce again wondered at the beautiful contrasts. She was so innocent and yet had the fire and spirit of a wanton.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she entreated.
Running his knuckles over her smooth cheek, his voice deep and husky. “I’m afraid that is not possible little one, you must be punished.”
The tears fell down her cheeks in earnest now.
“However, I can assure you, my American beauty, that murder is the absolute last thing on my mind,” he whispered against her lips before claiming them for his own.
He tasted like brandy and oranges. Moving his mouth over her own, he gently bit her plump bottom lip. She was lost in the feel of his hard body and soft lips. Did she dare allow herself to fall under his spell? Could she trust him to not truly harm her?
