The Knight's Prisoner (7 page)

It fascinated her—the rough animal nature that had emerged from her gentle giant and her burning desire to be possessed by him. She had never liked a man to be rough with her before. But then, she had never trusted a man not to hurt her. Somehow, even though Ferrum had caused her pain during the lovemaking, she felt implicitly safe. Which was only strange if she didn't account for the fact that he was also a man who held her hand while giving her the worst whipping of her life.

“How is it,” she mused the next morning when she woke, still bound to her captor and lover, “that you can be so gentle when you punish me, but so rough when you fuck?”

Sir Ferrum froze. “Did I hurt you, Dani?”

She was touched by his obvious concern. She rolled her head languorously from side to side on the mat. “Nay… I liked it.”

He relaxed and unbound their hands. “Good. Listen, I don't want to hear that kind of language out of you. If you say 'fuck' again I'll spank your little bottom red.”

She grinned wickedly. “Fuck,” she said. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

He shook his head sadly, hiding a smile. “Bad girl.” He pulled her over his lap and began smacking her bare bottom, much lighter than he had the last time. She giggled and pushed her hips back to meet his hand, enjoying the sting he was starting to create. As the spanking became more intense, she stopped giggling, her breath growing ragged as his huge hand came down harder. She closed her eyes, drowning in the sensation of his hand and her pain, the loud slap of flesh on tender flesh, the exchange of energy—his will imposed on her body. She floated away for a moment and then came drifting back as she felt his hand rubbing her heated bottom.

She moaned. “Fuck me, Ferrum,” she pleaded.

He made a tsking sound. “Do you need a taste of my belt?”

She squeezed her cheeks together as if to deflect an imagined stroke of his belt. “No, sir!” she said quickly.

“What did I tell you about saying the word 'fuck?'” he inquired, slapping her bottom several times to punctuate his question.

“You said not to use it,” she gasped.

“So why did you just use it?”

“Because I want you to.”

“You want me to what?”

She hesitated. “Fuck me,” was really the best way to describe what she wanted, the way she wanted it. But he'd threatened her with his belt, and she was not dumb enough to tempt him.

“Take me. I want you to take me, Ferrum,” she panted.

He chuckled. “That's better.” He pushed her off his lap, and she crawled onto her hands and knees, ready for him. “If I take you,” he said slowly, his warm hand stroking down her flank, “It will be the way I want to take you. And I may just want to keep on taking you.” He gave her arse a slap. “I may want to keep you for my own.”

Her breath hitched in her chest at that—torn by the desire those words inspired in her and the knowledge she would not be staying for anyone to keep her. She chose to focus on the desire, looking back over her shoulder with an invitation. He shrugged doubtfully, as if to say she'd asked for it, and then rubbed his cock on the outside of her slick sex, gliding smoothly in her juices. He did not enter her there, though. Instead, he withdrew and pressed against the entrance of her arsehole. She used to charge extra for this or refuse it altogether. She'd never liked it. But surprisingly, she felt if Ferrum wanted it this way… she did too. She wanted him to take her however he pleased, to give him whatever he wanted. She liked the way he controlled her, demanded of her, took every last thing she had to offer.

She tried to relax the muscles of her bottom as she pushed back at him with her tight little hole. She whimpered, and he murmured, “That's a good girl. You take it where I want to put it.”

“Yes, sir,” she moaned, making another conscious effort to relax and allow him to fill her.

“You're my girl now, aren't you?” he murmured lovingly, and he slowly slid in and out of her tight hole.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

She moaned. He began to gradually pick up speed, and she was thankful for his careful, smooth strokes. He only started getting rough right before he climaxed, and she grunted as he held his hips pressed against her bottom, spilling his seed. He pulled her up off her hands to stand upright on her knees and reached around and rubbed her nub of pleasure till she lost all control, climaxing with his fingers pinching her in front with the pressure of his cock still pressed in her arse.

It was not till later, when Sir Ferrum had left the tent and was taking the ribbing from the men outside with good humor, that she realized how stupidly she was acting. This man was keeping her against her will. She should not be throwing herself at him like a cat in heat. Especially since it seemed her need for him was only growing.

Chapter Four

“
Sheep's. Cunt.
Those are the only two words I have to say to you right now, Ferrum. Go lick one!”

Ferrum sighed and gave Dani five more hard spanks before he pulled her up to stand. He was tempted to send her to fetch a switch, but spanking clearly wasn't working. It was not even remotely effective. Respect had to be earned—he couldn't beat it into her. They'd been at odds for days now—he'd delivered spankings as often as three times a day to no effect whatsoever. She obeyed him well enough outside the tent, but it was the disrespect that was the problem. So it didn't truly merit the strap or a switch, yet she continued to sass him and resented her spankings.

Oddly, she still offered herself up to him, night after night, seeming to want him even more after he'd spanked her. And God help him, he couldn't possibly keep his hands off her when she tempted him. He'd flip her on her back and pinion her wrists, possessing her roughly before she could protest, not that she ever did.

She was standing before him now, her legs spread into a wide stance, her eyes flashing defiance, daring him into action. He needed to change his approach with her.

“Do you wish be in charge of me, Danewyn? Because I will follow.”

“When donkeys sing,” she sneered.

“I am completely serious.” He rubbed his hand over his scars. “Two people can't lead, and you clearly resent my leadership, so I will follow you.”

She folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowed. “What kind of trick is this?”

He shook his head. “No trick.”

“Oh, and I suppose you'd let me beat you like you beat me?”

“You may do as you wish to me. I doubt you'll find that effective, but I'm sure you can come up with punishments that are. I will obey you, so long as your orders don't interfere with the prince's. ”

She looked at him warily. “You jest.”

He shook his head. “I do not jest. I'm not afraid of taking orders from you.”

“Take off your clothes,” she tested him.

He stood up and disrobed while she watched, the mistrust melting slightly from her face.

“Lie down. On your belly,” she said, indicating his bedroll with her chin.

He obeyed. He heard the rustle of clothing and turned his head to the side to watch her remove her outer dress, then pull his sword belt off the heap of his clothes. She stalked over to him with unmistakable purpose. His ball sack tightened. The thought of her whipping him was arousing. She stood at his side and swung the belt, catching his arse in the downward arc. The bite of it was a welcome sensation. His cock hardened. She lifted her arm again and swung again. He saw the darker tips of her nipples through the thin linen shift, and the movement of her breasts as she swung the belt over and over again. Her face was flushed, and her focus on her task intense. Her aim was poor, sometimes striking his legs and sometimes his back, but he didn't mind. The sting of the leather added to the rising heat flowing through his veins, a molten lust that was rapidly transporting him to some other place, where only the two of them existed.

She paused, her breasts bouncing, her fine silky hair slipping free of its braid. “I'm not hurting you at all, am I?” she panted. He couldn't speak. Something in his face must have given him away, because her eyes narrowed. She nudged her foot under his hips. “Roll over!”

He rolled over, and his cock stood at full attention.

She made a noise of indignation. “You find this
arousing
? So, this is the trick of it!”

He smiled guiltily. “I didn't tell you to whip me,” he reminded her. “Mayhap it's not the whipping but the state of your undress that has me aroused.”

Her mouth twitched with a little smile. She swung her leg over him to straddle him standing, so he had a full view of her sex—that dark pink heart he so longed to caress. She was watching his face, and she must have liked what she saw, because her lips curved into a seductive smile. She'd seen the power she had over him. Slowly, sensually, she pulled the shift up, revealing more of her legs, then the provocative curves of her perfect arse, traveling up over her flat belly, and finally freeing those magnificent bobbing breasts as she pulled it off her head and tossed it to the ground.

He wanted to grab her and yank her down on top of him, but he controlled himself. She was in charge now. She was his master. And the idea of that was just as arousing to him as the idea of dominating her. She reached her fingers down and stroked her sex, and his breath escaped him in a soft moan. With two fingers she spread the lips of her sex wide for his view. “Is this what you want?” she asked, her voice low and throaty.

“Aye,” he gasped.

The wicked smile curved on her lips again.

“Beg for it.”

He licked his dry lips. “Please, Dani. Please, let me lick it.”

Her own face lost composure for a moment, then she grinned like a satisfied cat and slowly lowered herself over his face.

“Aye, Slave Ferrum, you may,” she purred.

He cupped her round bottom in his two hands and set to work eagerly—applying his tongue from her pleasure pearl to her arsehole and back again—sucking, licking, and penetrating. He watched her face, noting with satisfaction when pleasure started to overtake her and she closed her eyes, letting her head fall back, her bottom starting to tighten in his hands.

“May I use my fingers, Dani?”

“Aye,” she gasped.

He slipped two fingers inside her, moving them in and out, noting a place inside where the flesh hardened under his fingers, and she started to moan. He worked that place rapidly until she gripped his head between her thighs and roared through her clenched teeth, her inner muscles spasming with the release.

She looked dazed as she dismounted him. “Go and get us some wine, slave,” she said breathlessly.

He got up, debating whether it was safe to leave her alone for the few moments it would take to get the wine. Aye. He started to pull on his leggings, but she stopped him.

“Did I say get dressed?” she demanded. “Go and get the wine as you are.” The look of challenge showed she clearly did not believe he would. She folded her arms across her chest again. He lifted his eyebrows but just shrugged, stepping out from the tent and stalking toward the fire.

“Oh, God's balls, Sir Ferrum, that's disgusting!” one of the men cried.

“What are you doing, man?”

He heard sniggers and laughter from the younger boys and some grouchier rumblings that were probably about the way he treated Danewyn. He picked up the wine and walked back without a word.

* * *

Yesterday she'd been spanked over his knee three times, and today he was walking about naked upon her command. She simply couldn't believe it. Not that it looked like it bothered him in the least. He walked with his head held high, his cock swinging proudly and freely in front of him. It was breathtaking to see him this way—his enormous body was all hard, sculpted flesh. He was barrel-chested with broad square shoulders and massively muscled arms. His legs were equally strong in appearance, set off by the tapered waist and lean, hard belly. He moved past her into the tent, and her breath hitched in her throat.

She wanted to make him suffer by denying his sexual release, but she also wanted him again—the real way. His cock inside her. “Get on your hands and knees,” she ordered. His cock stiffened again, which made her even hungrier for him. “Spread your knees,” she said, nudging his knees apart.

She slapped his ball sac, between his legs, spanking him there. He grew even stiffer, and she heard his breathing turn ragged. She kept at it for a while until, she hoped, he felt as chastised as she did when he finished with her.

“On your back.”

He rolled over, and she mounted him, gripping his cock and rubbing the head of it over her sex. Sir Ferrum was panting, his eyes glassy with desire. She slid his eager cock into her and then sighed with satisfaction. Grinding her hips, she set a rhythm to please herself. After a while, she wanted more. She dismounted, and Sir Ferrum shuddered beneath her. She elbowed him. “Get up, slave,” she ordered. “You should be doing the work here.”

“With pleasure,” he said hoarsely and climbed over her. She guided him in and closed her eyes as he slammed into her with an intensity bordering on violence. But that was nothing new with Ferrum. And as usual, she loved it. She climaxed right after he did, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him tightly against her.

“Mmm. Very good, slave,” she murmured.

Sir Ferrum was resting on his forearms, looking at her intently. “Permission to kiss you?”

There was a sense of wrongness to the question. Her game of playing master was over, and really, she didn't want her permission asked. She wanted him to do with her what he wanted to do. That was more desirable than him following some command she gave. The question made him sound weak, somehow, and she found she didn't like it at all. She released the lock hold her legs had around him and turned her face away in rejection.

Sir Ferrum climbed off and settled next to her. “Hand me my shift,” she said. It was a command, but the fun of it was over for her. She felt only depressed now. He handed her the shift, and she pulled it over her head. “You won't be tying my wrists tonight.”

She was not surprised when Sir Ferrum shook his head. “I'm sorry, my lady, but that command is impossible for me to obey.”