Prisoner of Desire (4 page)

Isobel tried to flinch away from him as Douglas approached the bed on shaking legs, but she could not summon up the energy to do so. With a resigned sigh as her breathing finally to settle, she cautiously reached for a sheet to cover herself; surprised and relieved that Alasdair did not prevent her from doing so.

Alasdair surprised himself by allowing Isobel to cover her body, but his desire to further admire her bare body was, for now, outstripped by the brief possessive jealousy that passed through him as Douglas came towards them, his eyes fixed greedily upon Isobel. ‘What is it, Douglas?’ he asked curtly, stretching out and putting his arms behind his head.

‘Alasdair, if you are finished with your new pet for now, do you not think that maybe the rest of us could take a turn in punishing her for her disobedience?’ Douglas ran his tongue over his lips as he stared down at Isobel, for the thin white sheet did little to conceal the shape of her delightfully female form. ‘You seem like you need a rest after the battle and your exertions with the wench; and believe me, Alasdair, the sight of those lovely tits bouncing about as you spanked her buttocks is one you want to see for yourself!’

Alasdair was torn. He was never normally possessive over his toys, but Isobel was different; perhaps it was because he had already decided that he would make her his wife, but he found that the thought of another man using her for his pleasure infuriated him.  Douglas’s suggestion was tempting, though – he had, by necessity, been deprived of that sight, and Alasdair felt his cock twitch and swell again as he considered allowing his friend to spank Isobel whilst he watched; the idea of seeing her take pleasure from the spanking was, he had to admit, greatly appealing.

‘Aye, go on then, Douglas,’ he agreed slowly, pulling the sheet away from Isobel and rolling her towards him to meet his possessive kiss. As he raised his head again, he saw the fear in her wide blue eyes as she stared up at him appealingly, suddenly alert and afraid again.

‘Alasdair, please, have you not punished me enough?’ Isobel shuddered anew as the irony of the situation struck her; she was looking to him for protection, the very man who had just raped her and had invaded her home, murdering and destroying all in his path. Still, though, Isobel found that she would far rather accept anything else he dealt her than to be handed over to Douglas as if she were nothing more than a toy for the men’s amusement.

‘No, Isobel, I have not,’ Alasdair replied firmly, taking his cock back into his hand as it began to throb. ‘You have been very wicked, my lovely, in defying me for so long, trying to humiliate me in the eyes of my men; can you imagine if I had failed to win Glen Carrick and its little lady? I would have been a laughing stock! I may have won, but that does not excuse you, particularly when you are still being so stubbornly defiant and refusing to confess your desire for me.’

‘But Alasdair –’

‘Enough argument!’ he said sharply. ‘Isobel, you are to be my wife, and my word is final! Douglas will do nothing more than spank your beautiful buttocks, and it is for my pleasure – if it makes it easier for you, just think of that, my Isobel, the pleasure it will give me.’

Jerking his head, Alasdair gave Douglas permission to lift Isobel from the bed. Douglas’s cock was already standing hard and proud again, and he deliberately pushed it against the inside of Isobel’s blood-stained thighs as he loomed over her, chuckling cruelly as she flinched away and choked back another sob.

‘Nothing more than a spanking, Douglas, do you understand?’ Alasdair reminded him, his voice low and ominous as Douglas lifted Isobel into his arms. ‘She is to be my wife, after all, and I want there to be no doubt as to the paternity of any issue from her.’

Douglas seemed to accept the excuse, for he reluctantly nodded, but the truth was that knowing the paternity of any child that Isobel would conceive was far from being the reason why Alasdair did not want anyone else forcing their cock into her. Ignoring that unsettling realisation, he sat up and leaned against the stacked pillows, groaning softly as Douglas sat astride the stool and arranged Isobel across his lap.

‘How is your view of your lady, my friend?’ Douglas called across the solar, his large hands already roaming over Isobel’s buttocks and forcing her thighs apart as he teased at the folds between her legs with his sword-calloused fingers.

Alasdair simply nodded gruffly, tensing up as Isobel cried out, but the sight of her so vulnerable and exposed, her full, pert breasts hanging down and resting against Douglas’s thighs was so darkly erotic that it was enough to quench his irritation that Douglas was touching her so intimately. To his relief, though, Douglas withdrew his hand, smirking down at Isobel as he reached one hand underneath her to tweak her nipples, wrenching another cry of pain from her lips before he took hold of her hair, pulling it back so that Alasdair could see her face before drawing his other hand back and striking her buttocks.

The force of the blow was such that Isobel’s entire body jerked in response, her head arching back and her breasts slapping against Douglas’s broad legs, much to his evident delight, for she could feel his cock pushing roughly and swelling against her waist. Isobel heard Alasdair’s muttered curses and groans of delight, and she tried to focus upon that instead of the pain of the repeated blows she was being struck, willing herself not to react to them in the same manner that Alasdair’s blows had drawn from her.

Douglas continued striking her buttocks for what seemed to Isobel to be an interminable period of continued agony, but finally, through the haze of pain, she heard Alasdair’s voice calling out again. ‘Return her to me!’ he demanded, for he was fast becoming convinced that, to his confusion, Isobel was drawing no pleasure this time from the blows she was receiving.

Still pumping his hand furiously up and down his swollen cock, for another climax was torturously close, Alasdair lay down again and rolled onto his side as Douglas rose unsteadily and dumped Isobel back on the bed next to Alasdair before retreating to force another spurt of seed out of his own cock.

‘Isobel, my Isobel?’ Alasdair drew her up against his chest and held her tightly as a wave of silent sobs racked her body. ‘Did you not enjoy it this time, my lovely?’

She shook her head, utterly at a loss to understand why she had not felt that delicious yet cruel clenching need in her core as she was struck; there had been no pleasure in the blows Douglas struck her, only pain.

Alasdair smiled, thrilled that she responded so only to him. ‘Come, my lovely, let us see if your new-found apathy can hold out against me,’ he murmured, pushing her down and pinning her into the bed with the weight of his muscular body alone.

Even if he had not been restraining her, Isobel was, to her consternation, coming to realise that she was powerless to fight against him in any possible way. Arching her back off the bed, she moaned loudly as Alasdair leaned his head down to draw one of her nipples into her mouth, the brief pain as he gripped it between his teeth and darted his tongue across it almost instantly receding to be replaced by that crippling pleasure that seared her entire body.

Without even realising what she was doing, Isobel’s hips rose to press pleadingly against Alasdair’s cock, and he could not resist the entreaty. He did not hesitate or hold back. He thrust his cock into her again as far as he could go, groaning delightedly when her moans of pleasure increased rapidly in volume as her body began to convulse, betraying the fact that already he had brought her to another climax with less than half a dozen strokes of his cock.

Unable to hold himself back, Alasdair gave himself over to his own pleasure and collapsed on top of Isobel as her eyes rolled back into her head, the fresh climax more than her fatigued and distressed body could bear. As his seed spurted into her again, he claimed her lips and kissed her tenderly as she sighed and finally gave in to the black mist that had descended, slipping into a merciful and consuming unconsciousness.

When Isobel awoke again, the solar was dark and near silent. Only soft snores - she presumed they must be Alasdair’s, for they came from the bed above her - broke the silence. Isobel was lying atop a wooden pallet at the foot of the bed, one hand chained to the bedpost and a sheet tucked around her bare body.

Instantly she reached for the manacle around her wrist with her unbound hand, but the iron was tight and unyielding; Isobel realised quickly that it was a waste of her energy trying to force it open. With a heavy sigh, she slumped back into the uncomfortable pallet, a flush spreading across her face as she recalled the events of what she supposed must now be the previous day.

She had felt such shame at having her body abused so badly in front of so many men, all of whom seemed to take such pleasure from watching her humiliation, but Alasdair’s face was the only one that filled her mind. Squirming uncomfortably, Isobel’s body flooded with a fresh and uncomfortable wave of heat in memory of the pleasures he had so effortlessly shown to her despite her bitter determination to fight against him; she knew, with an unsettling certainty, that the words he had spoken so arrogantly in the hall were true. As much as she detested him for all that he had done to her and Glen Carrick, her treacherous body already yearned for him again.

As that realisation dawned, that clenching, aching need that he had awoken in her began to build once more. Holding her breath, Isobel listened intently to Alasdair’s gentle snores that convinced her that he was indeed asleep. It seemed that there was no-one else in the solar, and she moistened her lips nervously, astounded at the wicked idea that had come to her. The little nub of pleasure that Alasdair had found and manipulated with such skill had begun to throb insistently as she thought of him, and Isobel was filled with the desire to reach down and touch it, both curious as to whether it would be just as pleasurable now and hoping that if she did so, it would detract from the stinging pain of her buttocks where she had been so thoroughly spanked.

Her heart racing, beating so loudly in her chest that she was afraid that Alasdair would hear it and awaken, Isobel tentatively reached down with her free hand and brushed her fingers across it. The jolt of arousal that shot through her was so forceful that it was all she could do not to cry out, pulling her hand away to cover her mouth and stifle any moan that might escape it as her hips instinctively rose from the pallet.

Consumed with the urge to seek out the pleasure that Alasdair had shown her again – pleasure that, before his arrival, she had naively not even known existed – Isobel cautiously slipped her hand underneath the sheet again to mimic the way that Alasdair had touched her, a sharp twist of desire coursing through her body and leading her to forget the need for silence.

Moaning softly, Isobel writhed against her own hand as her pleasure began to build, her deep flush creeping down to cover her breasts as the sheet slipped down from them, exposing her pointed nipples to the chilled air of the solar. She threw her head back and her eyes closed as she moaned again, the image of Alasdair’s face burned into her mind and only increasing her pleasure.

Arching her back off the pallet as her legs instinctively parted and the sheet fell away completely, Isobel worked her fingers clumsily against herself, trying to copy the skilful way that Alasdair had done so and becoming swept away in her pleasure; soft, whimpering moans escaping her parted lips as she felt a climax near.

Suddenly, though, Isobel became aware with a thrill of horror that she could no longer hear Alasdair’s snores. Freezing where she lay, she opened her eyes to see him standing over her, his legs apart and his engorged cock gripped tightly in his hands. Alasdair’s grey eyes were wide with delighted incredulity, for when he had awoken to hear Isobel’s moans he had wondered if perhaps she was in pain from the manacle on her wrist tying her to his bed.

Sitting up to check upon her, he had barely been able to believe the evidence of his own eyes. To see his innocent little wench writhing against her hand and slyly trying to bring herself to a fresh climax as he slept was deeply arousing, and Alasdair found himself just as flushed and short of breath as Isobel was as he came closer to the pallet, looming over her with a teasing yet intimidating smile playing upon his lips. ‘Good morning, my lovely,’ he murmured hoarsely. ‘Please, do not stop on my account, Isobel – that was a glorious sight and sound to awaken to!’

Aflame with embarrassment and shame, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, Isobel shook her head and closed her eyes tightly again. ‘No, I...I...’ she stammered awkwardly, gasping as he knelt down beside her and took her breasts into his hands, caressing them and rolling her nipples between his long fingers. ‘I...it’s still dark, Alasdair, you should go back to sleep, I’m sorry that I woke you –’

Glancing quickly through the window, Alasdair shook his head, his eyes beginning to flash angrily as Isobel showed no sign of following his command and resuming what she had been doing. ‘Isobel, the sun is already beginning to rise, and I have no further wish to sleep when I could be admiring you and taking pleasure from you, my beautiful lass. I will ask you only once more – are you going to continue pleasuring yourself?’

She shook her head, fearfully opening her eyes again to watch his reaction to her refusal, but to her great surprise he simply inclined his head, one eyebrow arching as he stood up and turned his back on her. Her breath caught in her throat as she cautiously reached for the sheet, amazed by the reprieve it seemed she had won, but without turning around Alasdair seemed to know what she was doing. ‘It is a waste of your effort to try to conceal yourself and get comfortable, my Isobel,’ he said calmly, pulling on his breeches and a shirt that he left unbuttoned, chuckling softly to himself as he heard her startled gasp.