Her Rogue Knight (12 page)

“No! You can’t use that! You said you wouldn’t!” That part was said with every intention to fight, but when he set her to the ground and she looked at it, remembering the sting it could deliver still, her words turned into a plea. “Please!”

“Strip,” he ordered, doubling the belt.

“Please, I beg you. Please don’t whip me with that.”

“Then undress. Now. Everything off, Gemma.”

“You won’t use the belt if I obey?” she asked.

He shook his head no. “You have one minute to comply.”

She looked at him, glanced at the belt, then began to undress. She’d left the corset off earlier but her dress and shift now stuck to her body, and she struggled to get out of those. Once she stood naked, she looked at him, trying hard to hide her embarrassment.

His eyes scanned her body, and she could see the desire in them. She dropped her gaze to the earth and moved her arms to cover as much of herself as possible.

“Lean over, put your hands here,” he said, pointing to the lowest part of the fallen tree. “Do I need to bind you?”

“No, sir,” she said, barely able to meet his eyes as she assessed how she would look to him once she took the position he requested.

He waited while she moved to stand where he said. Slowly, she lowered herself forward until her palms rested on the stump and she was bent all the way over, her hips now the highest part of her.

“Take your legs wider,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She had clamped them shut, and now, as he stood watching, she spread them to shoulder width. As she did, fully knowing the punishment that would follow, her sex felt hot knowing he was aroused.

* * *

A dark part of Galahad enjoyed this. Enjoyed her humiliation, her vulnerability. Her unbound submission. He took his time inspecting her, knowing it would only serve to intensify her embarrassment. He watched as she spread her legs open and, bent as deeply as she was, saw the pretty pink lips of her sex, already glistening and parted, as well as the darker entrance of her back hole. They were displayed just for him. He longed to bury his cock inside her, drive deep between her folds, feel her heat, feel her tight virgin entrance stretch to accommodate him.

He turned toward the nettles, taking a moment to adjust himself but knowing he would need release soon. The message from her vision returned to him, and he knew it had been just that, a message from her mother to him: she was only valuable as sacrifice if she were a virgin. Once that barrier had been broken, she no longer held the promise of eternal life for another.

Banishing that thought from his mind, he returned to her with the nettles in his gloved hand. He set them down on the ground and picked up one handful.

“Have you been punished with nettles before?” he asked.

“No, sir,” she said, her voice small.

“I’m going to whip you with them. I’d like for you to hold your position throughout, but if you cannot, and if you need me to bind you, say so now.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, no, I do not… Ow!”

She jumped upright and covered her buttocks when he touched her with the very first leaf. He hadn’t even struck her—merely rubbed the leaf against her.

He watched patiently as she turned to him, then slowly calmed down.

“Resume your position, Gemma. We will ride the new path once the rain has passed. Let’s get this finished.”

She looked at him like she wanted to say something, then changed her mind. Glancing once at the pile of nettles, she turned back around and resumed her position. The spot he had touched stung, and she imagined the small red bumps that were likely forming. He moved to stand close enough to place a hand at her low back to hold her in place. He then ran the nettles over her bottom, taking care not to touch her sex, before he struck her once with the handful.

“Oh!” she called out, shifting on her feet, struggling to hold position when he struck again.

Gemma hissed and squeezed her bottom cheeks together.

“Relax your buttocks. I want them soft,” he said.

She took a deep breath as the burn worked its way beneath her skin. It took all she had to do as he said. She made some noise but didn’t articulate words. He continued, rubbing the nettles all along her bottom and alternately whipping her with them.

He picked up a fresh handful of the stuff and moved on to mark her thighs.

She mewled, wiggling her hips from side to side in an effort to alleviate some of the pain.

“Almost finished,” he said.

“It stings!” she whimpered, shifting her legs, clenching and unclenching her buttocks.

“I want you down on your elbows and knees for the last part,” he said.

She glanced at him but he stood stoic, trying to keep his arousal from showing in his eyes, his face. She was magnificent. Slowly, she knelt then moved her elbows underneath her, effectively lifting her hips high. She kept her legs wide, just as she had when she had been bent over.

He decided in that moment he would reward her obedience. Kneeling beside her, he picked up a fresh handful of the stinging nettles.

“These will be the worst, but if you maintain your position, I will reward you.”

Her bottom was red, and small bumps had begun to appear where the nettles had come in contact with her skin. Galahad removed the glove from one hand. He touched that hand to her buttocks and opened her further. She gasped, resisting.

“Shh. Open for me, Gemma. I want you to open for me.”

She neither relaxed her muscles nor looked at him. She remained in position, her face buried between her arms.

“Gemma,” he said softly, caressing her low back. “This is part of your punishment. I can force it, but I’d like you to accept it on your own. Take it. Offer yourself for punishment, and you will be rewarded.”

It took a moment longer, but slowly, she relaxed her muscles. He took the nettles and slowly, so slowly, placed the leaves nearest the base of the branch onto her clit.

* * *

The sting of the nettle at her sex was something else entirely. Gemma sucked in an audible breath as he pressed the leaf against her, holding it to her. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the prick as each leaf first touched her or the burn that followed. He held her spread open, and she imagined him looking at her. That thought aroused her even as her bottom burned with the punishment he delivered. When she dared, she turned her head slightly to find his eyes dark, watching only that exposed, punished part of her. He drew the branch upward slowly, dragging it along the open lips of her sex. Fresh leaves left their mark as he continued, scorching her in their wake as they traveled, spreading her juices upward until each leaf had touched all of her, her clit, her sex, her bottom hole, marking every inch of her.

When he dropped the nettles, she exhaled and closed her eyes, the burn still as intense as if the leaves were still pressed there. The stinging heat was painful, but it stirred something else in her as well, and she found it easier to manage when she did not clench her bottom but remained open, exposed.

“Stay as you are,” he instructed. She felt his other hand on her. He had taken off both gloves now and caressed her buttocks and her thighs with both hands. “You did well, Gemma,” he said. “You took your punishment well.”

“It’s over?” she asked.

“Punishment, yes,” he said as she felt one hand slide between her legs.

She gasped when it closed over her clit and he moved to kneel behind her, between her legs. She moaned, the fleeting thought that she should resist him passing through her mind when with his other hand, he rubbed at the opening of her sex, collecting the moisture there, dipping one finger gently inside before dragging it to cover her rear entrance. He pressed there but did not enter as his other hand massaged her clit.

“Gemma,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes as he slowly pulled her torso upright. He shifted his hand so it came to the front of her, still working her sex while his other hand fondled her breasts, her nipples.

She was unable to manage words, but a moan did escape her.

“I want you,” he said. “I need to have you.”

She turned her face to look at his, all the while feeling his cock pressing at her low back. She eased her body into his, and with that small softening, he turned her, his one hand cupping her bottom, fingertips at her sex, his other holding her to him as his mouth took hers in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue penetrated her lips while his finger lingered at her virgin entrance.

She reached to his shoulders and pushed at his shirt, wanting his chest bare, wanting to press her naked body against his—bare flesh to bare flesh.

Her own kissing grew more urgent as he undressed. When he lay her on her back, she did not resist as he brought his body between her legs, his full weight on her, pressing against her ribs, her lungs. Her breath grew short with the pressure but all she could think of, all she could feel was the kiss, his mouth on hers, his body on hers. Her skin against his skin felt hot, felt good, felt right. He reached down with one hand to free his cock, and when he did, she felt it against her stomach, moist with sweat or arousal, smelling of man, of him.

She pushed at him, wanting to see. He let her up while he slid his pants off his legs. She reached to touch him, her eyes curious, her touch inexperienced. Remembering what he had done to her last night, she licked her lips and glanced at him, asking permission with her eyes. He cupped her neck, the back of her head and nudged her head gently downward, guiding her toward his cock.

Her tongue darted out to catch the single drop that glistened at the very tip. He tasted like he smelled, all man. She opened her mouth, suddenly ravenous. He moaned when she sealed her lips around his cock and sucked hard, perhaps too hard when he muttered a curse and, gripping a handful of her hair, tugged her off.

“I’m sorry,” she began, but he swallowed her words when he once again covered her mouth with his.

“You did nothing wrong,” he managed.

Tastes mingled while he lay her down on her back, nudging her legs wider. She realized after a moment that while he kissed her, he had untied her bracer and was sliding it from her arm. She gave herself over to him, allowing anything, everything. When she felt his cock at the entrance of her sex, she opened her eyes only to find him watching her, his blue eyes dark, his forehead creased, slick with sweat. He gripped both of her wrists in one if his hands, nothing gentle about his touch, and when she reached to kiss him, he pulled back.

“No. I want to watch you first. Keep your eyes on me, Gemma,” he said, his voice gruff.

As he finished his sentence, she felt him sliding into her slick passage. He moved slowly at first, claiming her inch by inch. When he reached her virgin barrier, he gripped her wrists with both hands and lifted himself slightly.

“This will hurt, but only for a moment,” he said.

There was a moment of hesitance at his words, but she wanted him more than she was afraid of the pain. She opened her legs wider, inviting him into her, wanting him to claim her, to take her. But when he moved, when he did just as she wanted, she called out, trying to pull her wrists free, feeling a tearing, then the warm flow of blood between her legs, understanding why he had removed her bracer.

But he held her firm, and she gave over to it, to him.

He felt hot inside her as he pushed deeper. He neither moved slowly nor was he gentle. He was taking from her now and watching her face as he did, making sure she understood he owned her in that moment.

Once he was fully, deeply seated, he stilled for a moment. She watched his face, his eyes, as he pulled all the way out and then pummeled into her again and again, taking her, simply taking every inch of her until the pain she had felt moments ago mingled with a pleasure she had only just discovered the night before when his mouth had closed over her sex. And even then, it wasn’t this. It wasn’t this complete sensation of pain and pleasure, of being claimed and filled, of being owned and taken. She closed her eyes for an instant as a cry escaped her lips. Ecstasy took her while he moved inside her, and just as she came down from her flight, she felt him still, his cock throbbing, his eyes nearly black with arousal before he closed them, reaching his own climax, pumping his seed inside her.

Chapter Nine

They rode in silence. Gemma led the way, her horse just slightly ahead of his. He kept close to her, and she could feel him watching her. Her bottom was sore, but the burn from the nettles was gone. What pained her now was something else: she was sore from what they had done after her punishment.

He had taken her. He had had her. She had allowed it when he had asked permission. If she’d not granted it, would he have taken it? She glanced his way but turned quickly forward when she found his eyes on her. No, he would not have taken her had she not allowed it.

She tried to concentrate on the mist that marked the path before them.

“What did we do?” she asked finally, once the silence had become unbearable.

He glanced at her, then straight ahead, then back again. She looked at him from beneath her lashes, fearing she saw something akin to regret in his eyes.

He kept up their pace and didn’t look at her when he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

“No. Not like that.” She also looked straight ahead, feeling frustrated and embarrassed. “It’s not what I meant. I meant—what did we
do
?”

It took him a moment to turn to her. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he began, “but there is only pain the first time. I will try to be more gentle the next time. And I perhaps should have waited until our wedding night, but a part of your mother’s message…”

She could only stare at him. “What message?”

He wavered for a moment.

“What message?” she asked again.

“I took your virginity, Gemma. They cannot sacrifice you. Only a virgin’s blood carries the promise of immortality.”

She stared at him, not understanding. She felt cold all of a sudden. Did he not care for her at all? Did he do it out of a sense of duty?