Donatein had not attempted to contact her since that night. No card, no flowers, and certainly no letters. Although a part of her was relieved, another part of her felt slighted and abandoned. She did not consider it very polite to just leave someone without any word. All the pouting in the world would not make her wish to see him again, though. No, their time was up, and she was grateful he realized it, even if her ego would not let the subject die.
She fiddled with her perfume bottle on her vanity. Her sister had become very quiet in the last few minutes, no longer looking at her and finding other things to occupy her mind.
"Do you love him?” Camille's soft voice cut through Beatrice's personal musings.
"Who?"
"Who?” she asked on a laugh. “Who do you think?"
"Oh, sorry, Camille, my mind was elsewhere. I wouldn't call it love. But I do feel something for him."
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Chapter 7
Overwhelmed by the unknown, Beatrice twisted her silken nightdress in her hands. She might have had one night of passion with a man she did not know, but she left with her virginity still intact.
Does he really plan to give me the same treatment I had before? She worried her bottom lip and paced the floor of her room. Everything had been put into place for their comfort tonight. A bottle of wine sat on the night stand, next to two crystal glasses. A few sparse candles lit about the room, creating a romantic feel for the evening. My wedding night.
With unsteady fingers, she reached up and touched the velvet choker at her neck. She wore this small piece of jewelry for him. The feeling of ownership it gave her was indescribable. It was a feeling of finally belonging to something more than just herself. Never in her life did she feel the need to know someone was happy and content with her the way she did when she was with Renald. He made the night amazing, just by being in her presence. The onyx glow in his dark eyes made her shiver with anticipation. As nervous as she might be, she hoped he had her best interests at heart and would go easy on her.
The creak of the hinges as the door to her room opened startled her. She swung around ready to greet her husband. A maid stood at the door, instead, a tremulous smile on her lips. “I am sorry to interrupt, Milady, but his Lordship is ready to see you now."
The announcement took her by surprise. “See me? I do not understand. Where does he want to see me?"
"In the dining hall, Milady.” The young woman answered quietly, her eyes averted to the floor.
Beatrice nodded. “Thank you, I will meet him there now."
When she reached for the wrap that covered the almost see-through material, the maid's voice made her heart speed up by double. “I am sorry, Milady, but he asked that you come just as you are."
"B ... but, people will see me."
"I do not presume to understand his wishes, Milady, but I do not suggest you keep him waiting."
Confused, Beatrice left her room quickly. She stood at the entrance to the dining hall. Unable to move, she took in the breathtaking sight before her. The chairs had all been removed but the one he sat in, and every candle, both in hanging chandeliers and wall sconces, burned brightly. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of how she was dressed. She lowered her head and caught his warm gaze wash over her entire being.
"Do not be shy, sweet. Come and stand in front of me,” he said calmly. His deep voice flowed like warm water through her body, and once again, her feet refused to allow her to disobey.
Carefully, she stepped over the threshold and walked the several feet to where he sat, back straight, hands resting on the intricately carved arms of the dining chair with a brilliant smile lighting up his handsome face. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath would not come in the even, easy-to-draw pattern it did just earlier this evening. Her body felt wrapped in a vise from the inside out, and when she raised her head to look into his eyes, her knees faltered for just a moment. Unable to think of anything intelligent to say, she stood quietly in front of him.
"Take off your gown."
Beatrice twisted her fingers together, and her head shot up before she could truly think out the situation. “But Renald,” she leaned in to whisper as her eyes surveyed the area, “I am naked under here."
"Now, Beatrice."
A warm trickle of liquid slid down the inside of her thigh. Her legs quaked, but she knew she would suffer the consequences if she did not obey. She slid her arms out of the gown and let the soft material slide to the floor in a whisper at her feet.
On instinct, she reached up to cover her breasts, the hard nipples digging into her palms. She pressed her thighs together, making the hidden nub between her thighs jump in heated response. She bit her bottom lip, tears burning her eyes at the humiliation of being completely bared to his view.
When his brow lifted, and he eyed her hands covering her breasts, she dropped her hands and averted her gaze. “Please, Renald. This is humiliating."
The back of his cool hand grazed over her hardened nipple, and she shivered in response. “Maybe, but you are enjoying it more than you will admit to yourself, or to me.” He spoke the truth, which made it all the more shameful. With both hands, he cupped her breasts and held them in his large hands. His fingers were like silk, slowly gliding across the swells.
She stood as still as one of his statues, unsure of what to do, how to respond. Her body ached to its very core at the thought of him seeing her on such display.
No, he was right. This was much more exciting than she wanted to admit. To admit it meant she was strange, immoral and unnatural. “Wives are not to display themselves like this in such a public setting, Milord."
He chuckled softly, then reached out with both hands and grasped her nipples between his fingers. Her eyes widened in shock when he tugged and refused to let up until she walked the few steps to stand between his parted thighs.
He looked up at her, laughter and desire evident in his heated gaze, “I know what you have been told. However, in this house, my house, we do things a bit differently.” He paused, his fingertips sliding down her taut belly and over the curls at the apex of her thighs.
She shivered with the knowledge of her lost control. Her lids grew heavy when he pressed his hand between her thighs. With his direction, she spread herself for him and closed her eyes. One deep breath, and she felt the same calmness she felt that afternoon by the pond. The need to be his made her breasts ache and nether regions swell.
His voice cut through her ease. “Kneel, Beatrice."
Like a puppet waiting for her Master's command, she slid to the floor.
"You are always to keep your thighs spread when you are in my presence. I am to have access to your body any time, any place.” Her knees and shins spread across the cold floor. “Up on your toes, palms up on your knees, head down."
His terse words had her into action. Awkwardly, she moved her body into position.
"Back straight, Beatrice.” He almost snapped the order, and her back pulled straight. She needed to learn this. Needed to please him.
Beatrice swallowed hard and sat as still as possible, her heart pounding out a rhythm her breath was incapable of keeping up with. Her stomach ached, her back muscles clenched tightly, and she hoped she made it through this with her dignity still intact.
She heard, more than saw, him stand from his chair. His boot heels clicked across the wood floor as he circled her. Somewhere behind her, she heard his softly spoken words. “You still do not trust me."
Another gulp. “I do not know how I feel at the moment, Milord. Everything is just so confusing.” Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to part with them.
"This is something I am not used to. For a long time, I kept sex slaves. They trusted me implicitly. Never questioned anything about me. However, not being a slave, I am sure there are many questions going through that mind of yours."
She nodded, but could not find the words to respond.
"Care to share them with me?"
Her sho
ulders began to slump, but she pressed them back. “I do not know where to start, Milord. My mind is not functioning with its usual wit this evening."
From behind her, she heard him chuckle. His fingers threaded through her hair. The action was relaxing and exciting at the same time. “Then let me be of some assistance. If I miss anything, please let me know."
Beatrice could only nod at his words.
"It is not immoral for a wife to please her husband. As a woman who submits to her husband, you are not only ensuring his contentment and happiness, but also ensuring your own.” He squatted behind her, his knees touching her rib cage, and placed a kiss just above her choker, sending a shiver of awareness through her. It took all her self-control not to lean her head to the side and ask him to bite down on her neck.
"It also ensures I have no reason to venture elsewhere.” His voice was rough against her earlobe, and she bit down on her lip to keep from moaning. “It pleases you to submit to me, yet it frightens you at the same time. No doubt you have heard horror stories of how women are treated by their husbands.” He said this as he stroked his warm palms down the sides of her arms, squeezing gently at her wrists. “You wish you could just relax, or worse, go back to a time when you knew nothing of how the sweet torture of pain could be."
She blinked back tears, nervous tension tightening her thighs, and fought not to press them together again. Everything ached with unanswered relief, and she knew he was right. To go back would be easier.
"I would not be as complete as I am right now,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
His warm palms kneaded her shoulders, and his lips pressed against her cheek. “Then let me take control. Trust me, I would never do anything you did not want yourself.” He moved her hair aside, and the tails grazing across her back sent currents of pleasure rippling through her. “Yes, I will take my pleasure out on you, but I promise you this—by the end of it, you will have always enjoyed it immensely.” Renald pressed light kisses along her back. His teeth nipped curtly at the tender flesh, making her pussy swell and drool.
Finally, a whimper escaped her lips, and her form faltered. His strong hands encircled her waist, keeping her upright. “Like now,” he answered gruffly against her back. Gooseflesh prickled her skin. “You want so badly to tell me to let you put your clothes back on, yet you cannot. Your pussy is swollen and dripping juices all over my freshly cleaned floor. You want to squeeze your thighs together just to relieve the pressure, yet you open yourself wider to accept me."
"Yes,” she whispered, her mind numb, her head heavy as her chin began to fall further forward.
"Then give it over to me, sweet. Do not resist what your body is begging for."
"Yes,” she whimpered this time. Her mind screamed one last thought for him to just hold her. Like he could hear her every word, he wrapped his strong arms about her waist and pulled her tightly against his chest. Still, she could not find the strength to move.
"I will carry you upstairs, love,” he whispered against her ear.
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Chapter 8
The comforting warmth of the feather mattress engulfed her heavy body as he lowered her upon silken sheets. She opened her eyes for the first time in several minutes. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Her calm faded when she saw Renald at the end of the bed, his lean torso outlined by the fireplace, his lips drawn in a firm line of contemplation. His eyes were too shadowed to make out an expression.
Beatrice knew she was safe and well-protected. He told her as much downstairs. It still did not stop the fearful thoughts racing through her mind. What if this is not what I want? Do I not get a say?
First, one knee, and then the other touched the bed. Ever so slowly, he crawled towards her. She trembled, but did not move as his head bent towards her foot. Soft, gentle lips kissed one toe. He moved his head to the other foot, doing the same there. It tickled, but she dare not move a muscle.
Slowly, his lips kissed the inside of each ankle. At any moment, it would happen. He would twist her nipple in pain or bite down into her flesh so hard, she would cry out. Just not tonight.
But there was no biting or torment. She watched his every move, hands firmly planted on the bed, the thick, corded muscle in his forearms and shoulders moving upwards with slow, deliberate grace. His warm, soft tongue slid up between her clenched thighs. She weakened to this new sensation and relished the adoring way he cared for her.
The midnight curls of her coney came into her line of vision. He was so close that shyness overcame her for just a moment. The expression so unreadable before now took her breath away. His gaze heavy, lids half-closed, did not mock her or find her efforts intrusive. Beatrice smiled then and relaxed against the pillows behind her. When he lowered his head, he stared at her secret region as though it were his prize for the evening.
Still, he did not move to touch her with his mouth. A wicked grin spread across his lips, and ever so quickly, his teeth nipped gently at the inside of one leg. She giggled and tried to bring herself upright.
"Do not move.” His voice, thick and low, reverberated through her entire being.
His moist lips never ceasing their onslaught, he licked and sucked his way up her belly to her breasts. The tip of his hot tongue danced around her areola, just barely missing her puckered nipple. Lost in sensation, she grabbed the sheets into her hands. Hungry for more, she whimpered. Her sex throbbed uncontrollably.
Renald's hot, wet mouth closed around her nipple. She gasped in pleasure when he sucked deeply of her. Fingers closed around her other nipple, gently manipulating the hard bud. Unable to hold still, her hands left the bed to drive into his thick hair, her back arching to beg for more.
Frustrated when he did not respond, Beatrice squirmed beneath him, trying desperately to spread her thighs to feel the silken head of his cock between her legs. She groaned, and for her efforts, received a chuckle from her partner. “Tsk, tsk, love, you really should be more patient."
She panted heavily. “But I ache, Renald,” she whimpered.
Another chuckle, and his palms slid up the bed to cup her cheeks. He rested his chest against her own. She sighed and opened her eyes to stare up at him.
"I love that I can make you ache,” he murmured against her lips. His tongue flicked out to taste her bottom lip, and her eyes fluttered closed again. “I want to torture you until you scream out for satisfaction."
Beatrice tensed at the use of the word torture. It did not go unnoticed to Renald, who instantly halted his movements and stared down at her. “Why do you seem so tense?"
Beatrice shrugged, not wanting to admit she was nervous of how he might treat her.
"Shrugging is not an answer. What is wrong?"
She bit her lip and then answered honestly, “I know I said I would submit to you. I am just not sure I want it to be painful, is all."
He sat up straight in bed and gave her a look she did not understand. “How did you feel about that night?"
Everything inside Beatrice went completely still. He could not be talking about the night only she and Donatein knew about. “I do not understand your question."
His jaw ticked with frustration. “You no longer have to play coy with me. You and I both know which night. Donatein gave me the details. Every single one of them."
Tears of embarrassment trickled down her cheeks. There was no way out. He saved it for this night intentionally, and now, she had no choice but to answer him. “If you already know, why are you asking me?"
"I want to know how it made you feel."
Beatrice turned her head away, hot tears spilling onto her pillow. His finger on her chin turned her back to face him.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me how it made you feel."
She clamped her jaw tightly for a moment before responding. “At first, it made me feel wonderful. I loved every moment of it.” She twisted her hands in the sheets. “But then, it was so empty, so meaningless. I feared you fi
nding out and what you would think of me. I wanted tonight to be gentle.” Her voice trailed off towards the end, her eyes downcast. She could not stand to see his reaction to her confession.
His warm hands cupped her cheeks again. Fear made her look up.
There was no disgust on his face, only seriousness and gentleness. “I was angry at first. You never even gave me a chance.” He nipped at her bottom lip as she stared up into his dark eyes that grew more intense by the moment. “I wanted to beat you unmercifully and leave you in a dungeon for weeks."
She couldn't stop her eyes from widening in disbelief, even as her desire built.
"And then, I found my solution at a jewelry store."
A smile spread across her lips. She thought of the choker she wore for him.
His voice grew gruff, but his hands never relaxed their hold on her head. His breath coming in uneven pants, his hard shaft pressed against her clit just before he raised his hips and pressed a knee between her thighs. Obediently, she opened for him, then gasped with the contact of his velvet head sliding between the wet folds of her lips. Her lids grew heavy once again.
"I realized the only way to let you know you would never do such a thing again without my expressed permission was to claim you."
His words only heightened her passion. She squirmed against his erection. “Milord, please,” she whimpered. She was so sensitive. Every hard stroke along her cleft sent another wave of agonizing pleasure through her body. Beatrice shivered, her hands leaving the bed to dig her nails into his back. “I cannot take anymore."
He chuckled and rained kisses over her face and lids. The gesture left her weak and giddy and squirming that much more. “And, if I remember correctly, you love just about all kinds of torture.” He wiggled his hips back and forth, and she almost cried.
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