Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 65189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Two, Monsieur,” she gasped out, her voice quavering.
I could see the conflict written in every line of her body. She trembled, her fingers clutching desperately at the bedspread. Yet even as she flinched away from the pain, her hips seemed to cant upward ever so slightly, as if seeking more.
The third stroke landed, slightly lower, catching the sensitive area where bottom meets thigh. Alice yelped, her back arching beautifully.
“Three, Monsieur,” she whimpered.
I paused, drinking in the sight before me. Alice’s bottom was beginning to glow a lovely shade of pink, the marks from the martinet clearly visible against her fair skin. Her thighs quivered, and I could see the glistening evidence of her arousal between them.
Part of me wanted to throw aside the martinet and bury my cock in her wet heat right then and there. But I knew I needed to see this through. Alice needed to understand the full extent of my control over her body and her pleasure.
“You’re doing well, ma chère,” I murmured, running a hand soothingly down her spine. “But we’re far from finished.”
I raised the martinet again, letting it whistle through the air before connecting with Alice’s tender flesh. The sharp crack echoed in the room, followed by Alice’s strangled cry.
“Four, Monsieur,” she gasped, her voice thick with unshed tears.
With each stroke, I watched Alice’s reactions carefully. The way her breath hitched, the subtle arch of her back, the glistening evidence of her arousal—it all told a story of a woman on the precipice of embracing her submissive nature. But I knew she wasn’t quite there yet. She needed to be pushed further, taken to the edge of what she thought she could endure, and made to feel that her master had punished her thoroughly for her disobedience.
“Five, Monsieur,” Alice whimpered after another stinging blow. Her bottom had bloomed a beautiful shade of pink, the marks from the martinet creating an intricate pattern across her pale skin.
I paused, running my hand soothingly down her spine. “You’re doing so well, ma chère,” I murmured. “But we’re only halfway there.”
Alice’s body tensed at my words, a small sob escaping her lips. Part of me ached to gather her in my arms, but that wasn’t what she, or I, needed right now.
I raised the martinet once more and struck again, letting the leather whistle through the air before connecting with Alice’s tender flesh. The sharp crack echoed in the room, followed by Alice’s strangled cry.
“Six, Monsieur,” she gasped, her voice a wrenching sob.
I watched intently as the leather strands left their marks across her reddening skin. The contrast of the angry welts against the sweet, rounded flesh of her delectable bottom mesmerized me. With each stroke, I felt a confusing mix of arousal and something deeper, more tender. Part of me reveled in Alice’s submission, in the power I held over her trembling body. But another part wanted to stop the punishment, to comfort her.
I shook my head slightly, trying to clear these dangerous thoughts. I couldn’t allow myself to develop real feelings for Alice. She was meant to be a diversion, a plaything—nothing more. And yet…
“Seven, Monsieur,” Alice whimpered after another stinging blow.
Her voice, soft and submissive, sent a jolt of electricity through my body. I couldn’t deny the effect she had on me, the way my heart raced at the sight of her bent over before me, accepting my discipline on her submissively presented backside. It felt like much more than just physical attraction. Alice had something about her—her intelligence, her spirit, the way she both yielded to and resisted my control—that fascinated me in a way no woman ever had before.
Alice
My face had crumpled into a mask of woe, a little girl’s pout at the cruel punishment her guardian had decreed for her, the terrible sting of the lashes on the ancient implement of family discipline—and the matching sting of the humiliation. Punished naked, bending over my bed. Taught a lesson in obedience by the man who kept me, the firm-handed sponsor who believed in enforcing his will the old-fashioned way.
I buried my face in the bedspread, trying to muffle my cries as the martinet continued to lash across my tender flesh. Each stroke sent shockwaves of pain radiating through my body, yet underneath it all was an undeniable current of arousal that both thrilled and terrified me.
“Eight, Monsieur,” I choked out, my voice thick with tears.
Lucas’ hand came to rest on the small of my back, his touch both soothing and electrifying. “Just two more, ma chère,” he murmured. “You’re doing so well.”
His words of praise sent an unexpected warmth through me, even seeming to ease some of the sting from my punished bottom. I found myself arching slightly into his touch, craving more even as I dreaded the final strokes.
The martinet whistled through the air once more, connecting with a sharp crack that echoed in the quiet room. I cried out, my body jerking against the bed.