Conquering Sabrina (3 page)

Sabrina’s buttocks felt hot against her legs after having just received a sound bare-bottom spanking over his knee. After her punishment, Raoul had sat her on top of the table and applied the clamps. He’d worked her with his finger, bringing her to orgasm so she was good and wet, making application of the clit clamp easier and more visually stimulating for him. The pain had made her cry a little at first, but he had stroked the squeezed bud tenderly until she stilled and her labia swam with creamy moisture once more. He walked towards her and leaned over the table to sweep her dark hair behind her neck, instructing her to lift her arms up into the air and thrust her breasts forward in offering until her body resembled a bow.

“You will learn I am master in my own home, Sabrina. I will not permit you to be reckless with your safety. My word is law on this matter. I will not have another man harm you. You are mine,” he told her firmly with meaning before striking her across her breasts with the riding crop.

“Sabrina, are you ill? You look a little pale,” Raoul asked, shattering the image in her mind and bringing her back to the present. She stared at him with wide frightened eyes, wondering if she was going mad.

“No, no, I’m fine,” she lied, trying to cover her shock. “I just have this weird déjà vu feeling that I’ve been here before. It’s silly, really,” she joked. She raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. “Maybe in my last lifetime.”

Raoul said nothing, taking another sip of wine. For a moment his eyes avoided her. She found it odd that he would not make some remark or even a joke.

“I look forward to reading your work on my rogue ancestor, but for now I want to hear all about you,” he insisted, putting down his glass, quickly changing the subject.

Raoul’s eyes never left her face as she took a hurried sip of her own wine.

“There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid,” she said nervously. “Maybe we should talk about something more interesting.”

She smiled sweetly, expertly covering the pain that slashed at her insides with a knife. But he was to remain annoyingly inquisitive.

“No. I’m intrigued. Tell me about yourself.”

She didn’t miss the command in his tone, just like in her broken images. There was no escape. He was not about to allow her to bow out gracefully. There was nothing to tell. No family to talk of, no lover, no husband… Sabrina looked away, desperately searching her mind for a way of excusing her behaviour.

“Well, I don’t see you wearing a wedding ring, so I take it that you aren’t married?” he quizzed. His voice was soft, but Sabrina could hear some malice lingering in his tone. Nothing felt right here. Her images, the evening, his behaviour and her own felt surreal. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe she should really leave now.

Sabrina jumped when he suddenly picked up her hand she rested on the table, and gently examined her fingers. He stroked each one sensually, circling the pad of his thumb in the middle of her palm. She watched entranced, completely under the spell created by the rhythmic stroking, despite herself.

It was a normal thing to ask, to see if there was any competition. He wasn’t hiding his interest. But there was a curious firmness in his tone that appeared to challenge her answer, dared her to say no.

“No, I’m not married,” she told him truthfully.

He smiled gently.

“Where is your wedding ring, Sabrina,
cherie
? Did you lose it, or did he take it from you when he hurt you?” he asked softly, carefully.

Confused by his questions, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, wondering, hoping with all her heart…

Almost as if on eerie cue, the wind that had been building outside swirled around the chateau with a deathly cry from an open window, extinguishing the burning flames of the candles. The lamps at intervals on the walls also went out as if a fuse had been blown. Sabrina felt suffocated as the wall of darkness imprisoned her sight and pressed down upon her. She was terrified of the dark and had never known the reason. She struggled when she felt Raoul’s arms close protectively around her in a gentle hold.

“Hush, Sabrina. It will only last for a few moments. The lights are always going out. It happens in old buildings. Shhh, you don’t have to be frightened. Sabrina, you are home where you belong now. You came back to me, Sabrina. You came back, my beautiful wife.”

Chapter Two

“I am your wife?” She questioned it, but inside she knew the truth for the first time. The images, shocking and arousing as they were, confirmed it. Was the submissive woman she saw in her memories really her? She was nothing like that. How could this be?

“Yes, you are, darling. I know the doctors told me to be careful with you, but you are my wife. I have been without you for too long.”

The butler brought in a lit candelabra, momentarily ceasing their conversation. He sat it on the middle of the table without speaking and quickly left. Ribbons of light danced around the walls and over Raoul’s face as he came back into view. It was filled with love. It made her panic, wondering if she could trust the revelation. A part of her prayed it was true, but there was another half dismayed at the nature of their marriage her broken memories had revealed. Her feelings were angry about the personality her mind denied and hid from her. She was a strong woman in control of her own life. This could not be her true character. It just couldn’t. She was ashamed and fearfully guilty of her aroused feelings as the memory visions had played in her mind. Dismayed at the kind of woman she had been with this man, she railed at her past, at Raoul, unwilling to accept who she really was to herself and others.

“What the hell are you talking about? Let go of me. I’ve never been married. You heard about my lost memory, didn’t you? You aren’t the first man to try to make me think I was his wife.”

“Sabrina, don’t say those things. I love you, you are my wife.”

“You’re lying. My family have made no effort to find me. Why would my husband want to claim me as his own now, after all these years? He would be remarried by now... This is a cruel, sick joke...”

Sabrina’s eyes filled with angry tears.

“Enough. I won’t listen to this. I will prove it to you,” Raoul snapped, reaching down to scoop the candelabra off the table.

He tightened his hold on her wrist with a grip that would have been better suited to a vise, making her squeal, and led her out of the room. Sabrina made every effort to drag her heels, pulling at his hand to force him to let go. Raoul only tightened his hold further and dragged her along.

Sabrina’s eyes could see nothing but what the candles allowed her to see. They travelled through the dark rooms, the wooden floors creaking and groaning with centuries of use under their feet, highly audible in the ghostly silence that settled on the house. Finally, they reached a room that she presumed was Raoul’s study by the elaborate desk and leather chair he dragged her behind. He came to a stop in front of a large framed canvas and raised the candelabra, directing her to look at it.

Sabrina gasped out loud. There was no mistaking her own image. She was seated in a chair in a black velvet ball gown cut away seductively across the breast. Her hair was longer, more curled than the medium-length bob she now wore and her eyes twinkled with happiness. It was breath-taking and a shock to the system. She tried to take a step back and found herself half falling to the floor, half fainting with shock. Raoul caught her waist skilfully and pulled her up close to him. It was then that the lights came back on.

She glanced around the room. The place was littered with photographs of herself and Raoul very much in love. The room began to spin with a carousel of broken memories, a hundred swirling images that were there in a second and gone in a heartbeat. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Her body began to sway alarmingly as she looked up at the canvas again. Raoul slipped his arm under her legs and swept her up into his arms to deposit her onto a chair. He quickly moved away and poured her a glass of cognac from the drinks cabinet.

“I know you don’t like cognac, Sabrina, but you will drink it. You need it for the shock you have just experienced. Now drink.”

He was right. She didn’t like it. She wasn’t keen on alcohol apart from wine. Sabrina obediently took the glass, too dazed and confused to pass comment on his correct knowledge. But her trembling hands made her clumsy and he took control holding the glass to her lips, instructing her to sip slowly. She coughed as the fiery liquid hit the back of her throat and tried to push the glass away, but he was firm, giving her no choice but to continue drinking. He watched her anxiously when frustrated tears gathered in her eyes once more.

“You have been using your middle name, Sabrina. Your first name is Melissa.” He gave a small laugh. “You hate it, so you use Sabrina. Michaels is your maiden name.”

He knelt at her feet, gently cupping her face with his hands.

“There is no Christophe Valoire, is there?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Raoul shook his head and smiled.

“No, there isn’t. It was just a ruse to get you here. You disappeared from the chateau on the night of a ball I held for your birthday party. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get you to believe me until I brought you home. I saw the way you looked at the chateau. You remembered it. I knew you would. You love this place.” He smiled at her again. There was relief in his eyes. “This is going to be difficult for you, Sabrina. I am a stranger to you at the moment, but in time I hope I can help you remember our life together.”

“I don’t know what’s happening. I just want to leave,” she heard herself say before she could even think. “I’m confused. I can’t trust all of this… I…”

He sighed.

“You’re afraid. I understand that. It’s a lot to take in, but I can’t let you leave. You are my wife. You belong here and I am never going to part with you again, whatever the outcome.”

His thumb caressed the light satin of her cheek as if to soften the impact of his dictate. She rubbed her eyes.

“Am I a prisoner here?”

Did he intend to hold her here against her will? Maybe he would.

“I would hardly call you a prisoner in your own home, Sabrina,” he told her with affront. But there was something in his tone that told her if she pushed him with her threats to leave, he would keep her a prisoner.

“What happens if I leave?” she challenged.

He smiled.

“You won’t. You have too many reasons to stay.”

Sabrina’s heart began to pound. He wasn’t giving her a solid answer.

“How far will you go to stop me leaving?” she asked nervously, seeing no point in hiding her blatant concern any longer.

Raoul’s seductive black eyes narrowed a fraction as a frown burrowed in his forehead. Sabrina found herself holding her breath as he captured her face in his hands once more. There was no mistaking his resolve or his authority when he spoke in a low soft velvet voice.

“You have amnesia, Sabrina. I want you safe and protected at all times.” He paused, darkening and firming his tone. “If you push me with your desire to leave, I will carry you to the room in the West tower.” His voice lowered to a seductive caress as he held her attention spellbound. Her husband’s resolve to tame her and take her in hand was strong and clearly negotiable. He meant every word he spoke so eloquently. “I will strip you naked and confiscate your clothes. Then I will lock you in there after giving you a healthy dose of bar-bottom spanking to calm your rebellious nature. I have found in the past it is the most effective way to deal with your insubordination.”

“You wouldn’t dare…” She was outraged, yet her pussy melted and tingled with the thrill of his threat.

She watched him study her trembling lips with longing, then look up at her with dark possessive eyes.

“I will go as far as I have to. You are my wife and I have every right to protect you in whatever way I choose, even if it is from yourself.”

Chapter Three

Sabrina glared at Raoul and moved to stand up from her chair in a temper. She pushed her way past him, ignoring his demand for her to remain seated in case she fell to the floor again. She shook her head and looked up at the painting.

“I don’t believe this… It’s unreal. I don’t even remember getting married. I don’t remember anything about our life together, never mind my marriage vows,” she told him angrily, reluctant to reveal her memories of their hot sexual encounters.

Raoul frowned and stood up. Afraid of what he might do, Sabrina took two steps back, but Raoul headed for the top drawer of his desk. Sabrina glanced back at the door, wondering whether she should make a sudden break for freedom. She needed space, time to think. Her mind made up, she straightened and headed from the door, deciding to leave and collect her thoughts. Her whole world felt as though it was a whirl.

Nothing appeared safe or trustworthy. Leaving would give her some control back until she could decide what to do. Surely Raoul would understand that. Frantically, she headed for the door and reached out for the handle with a shaking hand when she stopped dead, hearing the cracking whip of Raoul’s reprimand across the air.

“Sabrina. Where are you going?”

Sabrina turned sharply, tilting her chin defiantly at him.

“You can’t stop me leaving,” she threatened. “I will call the police.”

He gave a laugh and began walking towards her.

“It will do you no good,” he told her softly. “They know that you are home and that your memory loss may have made you unstable. They are more than likely to advise hospital care if I can’t keep you under control than help you leave.”

He unfolded the piece of paper he held in his hand and offered it to her. “Your signature on our wedding certificate will prove that this is not some elaborate hoax. You belong to me, Sabrina, and I am not letting you walk out of that door again.”

She glanced at the certificate and the signature he pointed to. It was definitely her writing. Blind panic filled her mind. She didn’t know what to do. What if Raoul had been the man who had beaten her so badly she’d lost her memory? What if he really was the man who had put her in the hospital ten years ago? Perhaps she had tried to leave him then and he’d become really violent. But she never felt that once from him in the memories she’d experienced earlier. He had evoked pleasure rather than fear in his discipline of her. Too many questions. She had to get out.