Conquering Sabrina (2 page)

Sabrina felt her breasts swell and push painfully against her bra demanding freedom. Sex had never been anything but vanilla for Sabrina for the last ten years. Thoughts of being disciplined with spanking had never occurred. But this stranger was provoking buried sensations she would never have thought herself possible of experiencing. Deep inside she tried to hide the fact that she wanted this man to belong to her from the past, for him to take her in hand, spank her into submission, to love and protect her. It did not sit with her surface feelings. She was a strong capable woman who had survived kidnap and rape.

For the last ten years she had taken care of herself. She did not require a man’s protection or company, and certainly not his discipline. How could she even consider having these feelings after what had happened to her? But they did not in any way resemble the intense fear, oppression, and revulsion she felt when her memory flashbacked in broken interrupted images to her attack. Her feelings with this man were loving, arousing, protective. These memories made her feel cared for on a deep level. Still, her surface consciousness sought to protect her and would not permit any consideration of the difference. All men and their actions were to be viewed with caution. Whatever she had been before her attack, she could not afford to allow herself to be again. It was too dangerous to trust any man, especially in a sexual way.

Alarmed as he strode towards her purposefully, she backed away, but there was no safe retreat. Her back was just about hitting the fireplace and the heat of the fire was about to scorch and melt the leather of her boots if she got any closer.

Sabrina’s blue eyes searched his face, looking for some explanation when his eyes narrowed at her. More than a little nervous, she made an attempt to move away to the side. But she found her chin being lifted and her head tilted sideways.

Raoul trailed the warm tips of his fingers along her neck, gently probing the aching stiffness that tormented her so often. She froze with fear.

“You are always tensing, Sabrina. When will you ever learn to relax?”

Her mind was screaming caution, but her body had a will of its own, paralysing any movement she made to escape. Traitorously the aching muscle softened, melted against his fingers as though it had a mind of its own. The man knew just where to touch, to soothe, and to deepen the massage to ease her pain. She would swear to it. What was happening? More to the point, what was she doing allowing him to touch her?

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” the housekeeper stopped her speech abruptly, her eyes resting anxiously on her employer. They hadn’t even heard her knock.

Raoul lowered his hands and Sabrina edged away, afraid to meet his eyes or the housekeeper’s for the sake of embarrassment. She thanked the woman and announced that she would dress and be downstairs as soon as possible. It was the cue for both of them to leave and the housekeeper took it at once, but Raoul lingered.

Sabrina felt afraid and for a moment considered making some excuse to leave the chateau. But her common sense made light of the situation. She was imagining it. He obviously liked her and she was complimented. Perhaps it was simply wishful thinking that she’d known him before. But she had come to do a job and she wasn’t leaving until it was done. She would conduct herself professionally from now on and stop acting like a schoolgirl.

Yet the strangeness of the whole occurrence kept intruding on her thoughts and try as she might, she could not put it aside. There was something about this house and the people who inhabited its walls, a déjà vu feeling she couldn’t explain.

Raoul interrupted her ruminations. His hands were firmly in trouser pockets as if to keep them from further mischief, his speech formal and distant once more.

“I will see you later. Please call either myself or my staff if you require anything.”

Smiling, he headed for the door and took his leave. Sabrina was left wondering what other strange excitement the evening would bring and what part Raoul would play in it.

Sabrina changed into a short off-the-shoulder black dress. It was the only dress she possessed. She preferred trousers. They never let her down. They hid the petite legs she always unjustifiably condemned herself for owning, but defined her small waist to perfection along with the feminine curve of her hips. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror and groaned, trying to pull the dress down a little further to her knees.

Her attention turned to her breasts and produced another groan. They were generous and voluptuously round. She had no wish to over-amplify their size, but the dress wasn’t giving her a choice. About to decide to rebel and pull on her jeans, she became distracted by a new torment. Her hair. Half an hour later she finally gave up the ghost on trying to soften and straighten her defiant bob of black curls. A quick glance at her watch had her cursing her lateness and heading for the door.

Her host was about to knock on her door when she left, making her think he’d been prowling around outside waiting for her to come out all of that time. But he had changed. He was in a black suit and casual white designer shirt open at the neck. Those dark eyes scanned her dress and came to rest on her breasts. She was treated to an approving smile. Triumph that he found her attractive in the dress warred with her indignation at his intimate assessment.

“You look beautiful, Sabrina, but you should have worn something warmer. The chateau is full of drafts,” he teased.

“I will be fine, Monsieur Valoire,” she insisted, irritation audible in her tone. She edged away to maintain some distance between them. But his hand caught hold of her arm when her distracted mind tried to lead her in the wrong direction and brought her back to heel. His strong yet gentle hold brought another string of images swirling into her mind.

This time they were in a large set of stables. Raoul was leading her to an empty booth. There were several horses tethered in booths. One of them was being brushed by a groom, another was being fed. The sound of horses snorting and hooves clattering on the stony floor filled her mind, setting the scene. Again, just like her memory in the car she wore a pretty feminine floral cotton dress enhancing her generous cleavage. The material was thin, almost transparent, offering a watching admirer a tantalising glimpse of her curved outline. She wore no underwear and when the material pressed close, the tight mop of neatly shaven curls at the top of her pubis was visible.

Raoul had been riding. In his free hand he carried a riding crop. Once in the booth, he commanded her to stand before him. Once more she felt aroused anticipation coupled with fear at the punishment he was to bestow upon her. Sabrina could not recollect the reason for her chastisement, only that it had been significant.

Raoul slipped the dress from her shoulders and watched it swish down her body to the straw-covered floor and ordered her to step out of it. She found herself trembling and glancing behind her at the groom brushing Raoul’s black stallion two booths down. He paid her nakedness no attention and continued with his task. Raoul kicked the dress to one side, unimpressed with her coy attempts to curl her body inwards and cover her modesty with her hands.

A long leather strap hung from a large iron hook on the wall in front of her as though it was kept there for such occasions. Raoul pulled the strap from the hook and took firm hold of her body. He wound the strap tightly around her hands and pulled her captive form towards the hook. The hook was low down in the wall and as he tethered her to it, he cruelly made her keep a small distance so she was forced to bend and stretch her back. She felt him arrange her with his cool hands, instructing her to stretch and part her thighs. Her lover stroked her pale pink delicate skin with a featherlike caress, delving beneath her body to cup her breasts in a soothing action. She warmed to his protective possessive touch. He made a remark that she reminded him of one of his beautiful mares. Never had Sabrina felt so exposed or open.

Raoul retrieved his riding crop lying on top of one of the walls of the booth. He trailed the leather end the length of her spine, down the crevice of her buttocks, making her move against it. She was to receive ten strikes of the crop.

Sabrina felt him move the crop under her body to her breasts to lightly circle her taut nipples. She cried out with pained surprise when he unexpectedly struck her breasts with the crop. The heavy globes quivered with aftershock. She had been shocked and indignant, but another two strikes of the riding crop bracing harshly across her nipples silenced her complaining tongue. Her nipples burned and tingled in unison with a sudden wet aching need pulsing in her pussy. The feeling was exquisite and yet painfully torturous. God help her, she wanted more. He moved the crop down her stomach to the crevice between her thighs. Sabrina obediently parted her legs on his stern command to receive the leather flap at the end of the crop, biting her lip at what was about to come.

Raoul remarked at the seeping wetness coating her clit and thighs. He sought out the small bud between her legs and beat it with the riding crop. At first his strikes were gentle and teasing, and then they built in severity. Sabrina groaned and bleated, feeling pleasure build and strengthen as he whipped her clit with increasing harshness. She was desperate to come. Her clit was so swollen, engorged, and sensitive. It made her whimper. Her feelings were conflicted. No lover had been allowed to sexually tame her. It was something she had ruled out completely when they’d tried it, but here she was allowing this man to make her surrender to him and she couldn’t get enough of it.

Sabrina’s soft gentle submissive cries grew louder, attracting attention from the grooms as she strained like one of Raoul’s tethered mares against her bonds ready to come like a bitch in heat.

“I think we should gag you,
cherie
. Next time I will have you bridled,” he chuckled, whipping her clit with a little more force. “Now come for me, darling,” he commanded, giving her clit a harsh spank. Her body was more than willing to obey and came with a force she had never experienced. She bucked her release with a loud scream, stirring all the other horses in the stables.

Sabrina found herself blushing at the scene replaying in her mind. She was confused and disturbed. Again, Raoul appeared amused as though he could see the images in her mind. His dark eyes smouldered down at her as he guided her through a string of rooms until they finally reached the dining room. Something was very wrong. Why did her mind choose to insert him in her memories? They couldn’t be real.

What if… No. It couldn’t be…

The dining room was a deep earthy gothic red, garnished with Flemish tapestries and portraits of the chateau’s previous ancestral owners. The long oak table was dressed with elaborate candelabra dripping lightly with molten wax. The flames of the candles flickered shadows around the room as they entered. It was just the way she liked to have dinner, romantic by candlelight, and in this chateau it was a dream come true.

Did you know?

Maybe he’d had her followed, checked out. She wouldn’t put it past a rich man like Raoul. He pulled out a high-back chair covered in Spanish leather for her to sit next to him at the head of the table.

“So, Monsieur Valoire, when can I expect to view the historic documentation you possess on your ancestor Christophe Valoire so I can begin my research?” she asked as they were served a light starter of goat cheese and salad dressed in aromatic oil. She was determined to dismiss the lascivious wanderings of her mind.

He caught her eyes as the butler poured ruby wine into the crystal glasses.

“You are a workaholic, Dr. Michaels. I thought you could take a few days to relax and enjoy your stay and allow me to show you around the Loire Valley.”

He was looking at her so intently, she felt her eyes lower and her cheeks flush in response.

“I would have liked that very much, but I have to give a lecture in Paris in a couple of days and I need to prepare.”

He was undeterred.

“Well, we will just have to see what we can achieve in the time we have together.”

Sabrina managed a nervous smile. He was making it no secret that he wanted her and he wasn’t about to let her go. He continued their conversation, his deep velvety tone playing havoc with her every attempt not to melt and fall at his feet like some love-struck teenager. Damn it, he knew the effect he was having. She could see it playfully dancing with humour in his eyes, and she was helplessly playing along to his piped tune. She didn’t like being manipulated.

“I have read your book and recent articles, Sabrina. I am especially interested in your research concerning gender issues in popular culture in Europe.”

Raoul engaged her in conversation about her work, but she felt distracted and on edge. The more she looked around the room, the more convinced she was that she had been in it before. She couldn’t explain it. Maybe she’d visited the place as a child. But the explanation didn’t seem adequate. Even the tapestries and the scenes they depicted were more than familiar.

Even the long oak table seemed to provoke strange memories. She couldn’t help gasp and bring her hand to her mouth when inside her mind she saw herself naked kneeling upright on top of it. Her mouth was gagged with a leather band, her hands also bound in front of her with a leather strap. Her breasts were heavy and swollen; her poor nipples clamped tight on a nipple chain that led down the length of her smooth stomach to another small clamp on her clitoris. The tiny bud throbbed and pained, its blood flow cut to increase the delicious sensitivity between her thighs. Her pussy was so wet, so needy for Raoul’s touch, she thought her clit might burst. He walked around the table in a dark business suit carrying a riding crop. He struck a strong powerful, dominant figure who was determined to take her in hand. She could not confirm it, but the whole scene appeared related to the weekend of punishment and atonement he had promised her after disobeying him regarding his protection.

Confusion at the safety and reassurance she felt at Raoul’s treatment of her had continued to war with righteous feminine indignation, yet try as she might, she could not deny the soothing touch of his dominant power over her, just as her present feelings also seemed to suggest.