Wages of Sin (19 page)

Finally he did, pushing her from his knees to fall in a tumbled heap at his feet. Her face was almost as scarlet as the cheeks of her bottom and she stared up at him from tear-drenched eyes.

‘Now,' he panted, ‘do I have to repeat the punishment, or will you do as I have bidden you?'

She nodded, unable to speak.

‘Good,' he said, unsmiling. He picked up the scraps of leather and cast them at her feet. ‘Put these on and no more shilly-shallying. I am becoming impatient.'

Stiffly, she got to her feet and, modestly turning her back, began to disrobe.

He clicked his fingers in annoyance. ‘Not like that, girl,' he snapped. ‘Turn round. I want to see the merchandise I am buying.' Closing her eyes to shut out the sight of his leering face, she did as she was told. She winced as the flame-coloured gown slid down over her hips, hardly able to bear the touch even of the soft satin against her throbbing skin.

He let out a soft whistle of appreciation as she stood naked in front of him. Pert breasts, heaving with every ragged breath, stood proud against her ribcage and the tiny waist served only to emphasise the fullness of the swelling hips beneath. At the juncture of her slender thighs blazed the guardian fire to the secret temple of pleasure. He smiled with satisfaction. She might have driven a hard bargain, but he was going to get full value for his money!

Her breasts swayed softly as she bent to pick up the scraps of leather, making him harden even more. ‘I hope you appreciate the trouble I've taken to acquire these,' he said. ‘I had the garments made especially by the old crone who does the washing and mending. In her younger days she was like you. Provided other services, if you take my meaning. Mind, it would be a strong-stomached or desperate man who'd ask her for those favours now. She earns her living by sewing, now. You should have seen the pleasure she took in making those. Wouldn't surprise me if she'd once worn something like them herself.'

Jane was aware of him watching eagerly as she stepped into the tiny briefs, revealing a tantalising glimpse of her most secret place as she pulled them up her slender thighs. The leather cupped her buttocks like a second skin, outlining their firm contours - but it was not just that which excited him. Lacking a crotch, they framed her vulva, pulling the lips slightly apart to show the glistening pink between. She shuddered and tried to hide her shame. He glared at her, one fist raised, and her hand reluctantly dropped away.

Her breasts swung as she leaned to pick up the top from where he had flung it at her feet, then rose as she lifted her arms to slip into it. It was equally revealing. The cunningly stitched leather forced her breasts up until the soft flesh seemed on the verge of overflowing, and the peaks of her nipples thrust through strategically cut holes, forced into rigidity by the constricting material. The effect was deliciously wicked, somehow even more sinful than her nakedness alone would have been. He drew a ragged breath, his manhood swelling even further, pushing urgently against his codpiece. He unlaced himself and it sprang out, long and thick, its engorged head gleaming red in the firelight. Jane gasped, her first instinct to cower back, hunched up to conceal herself from his lustful gaze. Instead, she flung her head back defiantly and straightened her shoulders. The movement forced her breasts even more tightly against their constriction and she groaned inwardly as a familiar feeling of excitement coursed through her veins. Subduing it, she glared at him.

‘Well,' she sneered, ‘do you not wish to take possession of your property?' Her lip curled as she gazed contemptuously at his throbbing member. He seemed so close to spending his seed, at least it would be over quickly.

He leaned back and grinned. ‘Oh no, my lady. You do not get off so lightly. Since I am such an appalling lover, then you must show me what pleases you.'

He raised one eyebrow. ‘How else am I to learn?'

She stared at him in dismay. ‘Wh-what do you mean?' she demanded.

His grin widened. ‘Why, madam, is it not obvious? I wish to watch you pleasure yourself.'

‘Oh, no!' she gasped. The very idea of it appalled her. The thought of him leering avidly while she fingered herself was so humiliating it was not to be borne.

‘Oh, yes,' he sneered. He pointed at the chest. ‘Sit there, whore, and part your legs for me.'

Shuddering, she did as she was told. The thin leather cut into the juncture of her thighs, forcing the lips of her vulva even wider. He licked his lips. She was fully exposed now, as juicy and glistening as a freshly opened fig. One hand went to his shaft, gripping it as he watched her.

‘I am becoming impatient, my lady,' he warned as she sat there gazing at him, her eyes fixed on his. He ignored their mute plea. ‘Begin... otherwise it will be the worse for you.'

Closing her eyes, she tentatively began to fondle her thrusting nipples, feeling their tips hard beneath her fingers. She drew her breath in as they tingled under her touch and she started to stroke them more firmly. In her mind she conjured up the picture of Robin, his head bent to her bosom, his eager mouth suckling her, his tongue teasing her flesh. Taking her nipples between finger and thumb she rolled and tugged them gently, imagining it was Robin's hands on her, not her own. Her breath came faster in her throat and she was no longer in her chamber but lying with her lover on the greensward beneath a canopy of leaves.

The heat of rising pleasure mingled with the heat from her beaten bottom, until pain and pleasure blended seamlessly to become one. She moaned, her mouth falling open as she lost herself in the sensations surging through her. Sir Edmund watched, rapt, as one hand continued to play with her erect nipples while the other strayed lower, down over the soft curve of her belly until it reached her waiting cleft. She parted the lips of her sex even further, deftly teasing the soft bud of her clitoris into hardness before slipping first one finger then another into the waiting wetness. Slowly at first, she began to slide them in and out, then her movements became faster as her excitement mounted. As she neared the peak she flung her head back and groaned rhythmically with every thrust. Beads of perspiration glistened on her flushed body like tiny jewels.

With a groan he leapt across the room, dragged her to her feet and pulled her against him, his rigid cock pressing into her belly like an iron bar. Her erotic dream shattered into a thousand pieces and she was back in her chamber with a man she despised. Rudely deprived of her climax one hand, the fingers still glistening with her own juices, reached out to claw his hated face. He grabbed her wrists and forced her arms behind her. The movement thrust her breasts against him and she groaned as the rough material of his doublet grazed their sensitive tips.

His expression was bestial. With a snarl he flung her face down on the bed, then flung himself after her. Kneeling behind her he slid one arm around her waist, pulling her up so that her bottom jutted in the air like that of a cat in heat, her wet opening offered to him.

With a groan he thrust his prick against it. There was a tiny moment of resistance, then he gasped as the swollen head was enveloped in her silken heat.

His hips jerked again and she whimpered as the whole shaft buried itself in her body. She closed her eyes and moaned again as he started to move, his cock filling her completely.

Her pleasure began to mount once more and she pushed her hips backwards against him, matching each thrust until there was nothing else in the universe but his turgid prick inside her. One hand reached down to stroke her clitoris, moving in time with each shuddering breath until she could bear it no longer. With an animal howl she climaxed, her spasming vulva clamping down on him rhythmically until he groaned deep in his throat and spent himself in one last, monstrous thrust. Gasping, he collapsed on top of her, sweat cooling on his fevered skin.

He was the first to recover. Pulling away, he stood up and adjusted his clothing as he regained control of his breathing. He grinned down, his expression smug as she rolled over and glared up at him, his seed still glistening on her thighs.

‘Well, madam, another portion of your bargain completed,' he said coolly. ‘And what payment shall we say for this little bout?' He clicked his fingers. ‘I have it. The dorter. Or do you not appreciate the irony of being given the celibate sisters' sleeping quarters in exchange for such hot and sleepless sin?'

She gritted her teeth as she stared at his exultant face. Damn her treacherous body! How could it respond so vilely to a man she loathed and detested? ‘That will do very well,' she muttered. ‘Pray tell Father Andrew to add it to his list.' She rolled on her side so that she did not have to look at him. Her passion spent, she could not bear to spend another minute in his company. ‘Now go. You have taken what you wanted. Leave me be, before I vomit at the very sight of you.'

‘Do not deceive yourself, madam,' he said, casting her earlier words back at her. ‘That was no “performance”. You writhed beneath me as eager as a bitch in heat. I did not take what was not offered freely.' He reached down and pulled her back round to face him again.

‘You make a good whore, my fine lady,' he whispered tauntingly, ‘but do not think you can rest upon your laurels. Next time we shall try something a little... different. And we shall see how you enjoy that.'

With that, he stalked from the room, leaving her staring after him in dismay. She shivered, the perspiration on her skin suddenly icy. ‘Something different'? What could he possibly mean by that?

 

 

 

‘What? Still abed, my lady?' came a mocking voice. ‘And the morning already half-gone, too.' Footsteps crossed the room. Jane heard the rattle of rings along the wooden bed-pole and light spilled across her pillow.

It cut through her troubled dreams like a sword. She groaned, rolled over and opened her eyes, covering them with one arm to shut out the early morning sun. Even half-blinded she could recognise the dark figure, hands on hips and legs wide, silhouetted against the window. Just so had King Henry stood in a portrait she had seen once; the same male arrogance, the same knowledge that he was master. She was suddenly fully awake.

‘What do you want?' she stammered fearfully, struggling into a sitting position and pulling the coverlet up to hide her naked breasts. ‘Surely even you are not so lost to decency as to take me against my will, in broad daylight. Have you no shame?'

Sir Edmund gave her a hurt look. ‘Why, mistress, you misjudge me,' he said. ‘When my only intention was to please you.' He gestured towards the window. ‘Look, the sun is up. The dew still lies upon the grass. It is a fine morning to go a-hunting. Do you not wish to join me?'

She glared at him suspiciously. Was this another trick? She took in his worn leather jerkin, the sturdy woollen hose and the scuffed riding boots. Perhaps not. Not even he would come to her bedchamber booted and spurred, surely? She became aware of voices rising from the courtyard below: the jingle of harness and the clatter and whinny of horses, fresh from the stable and eager for the chase.

Sudden excitement ran through her. It been so long since she had been on a proper ride, galloping with the wind in her hair, feeling the silken surge of powerful horseflesh between her thighs. For a moment she forgot how cruelly Sir Edmund had abused her and gave him a smile of genuine pleasure. ‘I thank you for your kindness, my lord,' she replied. ‘It would please me greatly.'

‘Good,' he grunted. ‘Then dress - and quickly, mind. I do not like to be kept waiting.'

As soon as he had left she leaped from her bed and rummaged through her faithful chest, finding a serviceable linsey-woolsey in a warm reddish-brown. The boots she discovered at the bottom of the chest were dry and cracked and far too big, but they would have to do. Lacking a hat, she scraped her hair back and pinned it firmly. She glanced at the rosy-cheeked girl in the mirror and winked approval at her reflection.

She ran down the stairs and out through the heavy door into the sunshine. Sir Edmund and his men were already horsed and waiting. With a smile of thanks to the groom who offered his linked palms, she mounted the bay mare and the small group cantered out through the gates.

The day was as cool and crisp as an autumn apple and she drew a deep breath, savouring the sweet taste of freedom. The horses left a trail of wet hoof prints through the long grass as they rode, the hounds sniffing the air for the scent of their quarry. It was like a scene from some ancient tapestry.

She was brought from her reverie by Sir Edmund drawing his horse alongside hers. ‘I trust you are enjoying yourself, madam?' he enquired politely.

‘I am, sir,' she replied. ‘It is a pleasant morning.'

‘Let us hope the hunting is good,' he went on. ‘There is nothing like the chase to raise the heart and set the blood pounding in one's veins.' The scar on the side of his face twitched unpleasantly as his lips curled in a cruel smile. He leaned over and kneaded her thigh with one gloved hand. ‘Or perhaps there is. We shall find that out tonight, shall we not, my lady?' He jerked the reins and his horse shied and pulled away, leaving her staring after him.

Why did he have to go and spoil things? For a few moments she had managed to forget her situation. Now he had brought it home again - and all the worse for her brief illusion of freedom. His words came back to her: ‘We shall try something a little... different.' They pounded in her head, over and over, in time with her horse's hooves, and she felt the familiar sickness rising in her belly.