Game - Page 7

‘And you will bend to my will. And my whip.’

‘Yikes. But there’s something I must tell you. It might change your mind. I am no longer a virgin.’

‘Wha– but, you, what? No longer a virgin? How?’

‘The usual method, I think.’

He cracks the whip again, then grabs me by the forearm and pulls me close, capturing my chin in a firm grip.

‘Who? I’ll have his head on a pike.’

‘I don’t know his name. Some peasant of the forest.’

‘He violated you?’

‘No, I wanted it. I begged him to deflower me.’

‘A peasant!’ The Dark Prince’s roar could wake the slumberers of neighbouring lands. ‘You gave your maidenhead to a peasant? Willingly?’

‘Aye. Still want me for your bride?’

He yanks me over to the table and bends me over it, holding me down with a hand on my spine.

‘You’ll pay for your sluttish ways, my little whore princess. And yes, you will be my bride. I’m not giving up the chance to rule your father’s lands because you can’t keep your legs shut. Oh no. But you will learn not to repeat your loose behaviour, unless it’s in my bed.’

God, he’s good at this. My juices gush and I squeeze my trembling thighs together. My blood is up and rioting through my veins. Do it, I silently beg him, whip me.

The skirt comes up, petticoats and all, and I barely have time to screw my eyes shut before the first stroke whistles down, a bar of red heat lighting up my arse.

My lusty yell is only partly one of pain. I am wild with exhilaration. The rougher he plays, the crazier I get. I wonder what it would take to break me, and if he’ll ever reach that point. The idea excites me even more.

He wields the crop with an expert hand, laying a succession of hard, fast strokes until I want to jump up and hop about, but his other hand on my back holds me in place so that all I can do is take it. Stroke after stroke, burn after burn, while he rants and raves about what a whore I am and how I will submit to him and him alone.

I don’t know how many he gives me, but it must be near fifty at least when he lays the crop aside and runs a hand over my scorched and welted bottom.

‘What did that teach you, Princess?’ he pants, sounding quite exhausted.

‘It taught me who my master is,’ I sigh.

‘Yes. That was my intention. So, I have conquered you?’

‘Oh, you have. It’s so sore, ouch.’

His hand glides over the burning skin and then dips lower, to the wet ridges of my pussy, alighting on my needy clit.

‘You are in heat, Princess. The whipping has given you pleasure?’

‘No,’ I lie. ‘Only pain and humiliation.’

‘Then why are you so wet here? Are you truly a slut who wants cock all the time?’

‘No, no.’

‘You are.’ He shoves two fingers up inside me. ‘And this is where you took peasant cock. How was it? Was he a good size?’

‘He was long and thick and he used it well.’

He smacks my bum hard and I whimper and twist my hips.

Tags: Justine Elyot Erotic
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