Passionate Pleasures (10 page)

“That stinks!” Mavis said.

It did stink, Kathryn agreed. But it was what it was. She had no other choice but to behave as she had. Kathryn St. John knew there were some people who felt sorry for her, and the life she appeared to have chosen. But once, once there had been someone in her life, and she had planned to marry him no matter what her family said, because he didn’t care if she was rich or poor. He loved her.

Jonathan Curtis had been Mavis’s older brother. They had been friends forever until one day Jon kissed her and they were suddenly more than friends. No one knew, not even Mavis. And when his Guard unit got called up for active duty in the Gulf War, he had asked her to marry him, and she had said yes. He gave her his old fraternity pin in token of their pledge.

“I’ll replace it with a ring when I get home,” he told her. “It won’t be a big diamond, Kathy, but it will come with all of my love.”

But Jonathan Curtis never came home. He was the second of Egret Pointe’s sons to be killed in the Gulf War. Ben Kimborough had been the other. And she had never dared to wear his fraternity pin, but Jon would have understood why. She mourned with Jon’s family, but they never knew the true depth of her sorrow. And they never knew that Kathryn St. John might have been one of them. It was the only secret she had ever kept from Mavis, and to this day she didn’t know why she had. The fraternity pin lay in the bottom of her jewelry drawer. She had never considered returning it. What would have been the point?

The library closed at five thirty after Labor Day. After the day she had just had, Kathryn St. John was in the mood for rough love tonight. She had deleted the Rapunzel fantasy, but not replaced it yet with anything. She was considering a barbarian-and-slave-girl fantasy. Maybe she would try it tonight. It sounded just right, considering her mood.

Mrs. Bills was still at the cottage when she came in. “Hope you don’t mind me staying a bit late, Miss Kathy, but I had an extra something to do for Mr. Blair. I usually do him Tuesdays and Fridays, but he just unpacked his mama’s china. Beautiful! But it all needed hand washing. Twelve of everything. So I went over early today to do it, and got half of it done before I had to come to you. Your dinner’s in the oven, dear.”

“I didn’t know you worked for Mr. Blair,” Kathryn replied.

“Oh yes. Doris Kirk put me in touch with him as soon as he rented the Torkelsen house. I was there to help him when his movers arrived from the city. Such a nice man. Lovely manners and how he loves that dog of his. But I have to admit I’ve become quite fond of Rowdy myself. As sweet-natured as his master, he is. I made you shepherd’s pie. You had some leftover lamb from your Sunday roast. Had company, did you?”

“Mavis and her husband,” Kathryn said.

Mrs. Bills took off the apron she had been wearing and put it in the kitchen cupboard where she had hung her jacket. Putting it on she pulled her car keys from the pocket. “Good night, Miss Kathy,” she said, and was gone out the door. She would have to walk through the garden to the street where her car would be parked, but it was still light enough to see the path.

Kathryn St. John poured herself a glass of red wine, and taking her plate from the oven, went into her little dining room, where Mrs. Bills had set a place for her. There was a green salad in a small wooden bowl by the fork. She sat down, reaching for the tiny pitcher of mint sauce. Pouring a bit around the shepherd’s pie, she began to eat. It was a perfect meal for an early-autumn night.

As she ate she thought about the barbarian-and-slave-girl fantasy she was considering. Yes, a rough barbarian with a great big dick who would force her to his will using a combination of his strength and his charm. Did barbarians have charm? Never having met one, she couldn’t be certain, but her barbarian would. But she would not be able to get around him. He would punish her for her resistance, and then he would fuck her until she was weak and replete with satisfaction. Now that sounded like a great deal more fun than Rapunzel had been. She didn’t know why she had put that silly fairy tale on her remote in the first place except at the time she wanted to fill up all six of her selections. In reality her life might be an orderly one. But in The Channel she wanted more danger and excitement.

She finished her supper, and discovered Mrs. Bills had left her a dish of her favorite butterscotch pudding. Kathryn ate it and licked the spoon with satisfaction, thinking about what else she was going to lick before the night was through. Rinsing her dishes and setting them neatly in the dishwasher, she made certain the house was locked up, and then hurried upstairs to shower and brush her teeth. Finally she climbed into her bed, reached for the remote, and pressed OPEN. The doors to the painted cabinet opened.

“Barbarian and the Slave Girl, New, Section F,” she said aloud as her finger pushed down on the little round pad. She was about to create a whole wonderful new fantasy, and that in itself was exciting.

T
he tent in which she found herself was not particularly large, but neither was it small. It was heated by one small brazier. Outside she could hear the sound of music and laughter. She crept over to the tent’s exit, lifting the flap cautiously, and peeked outside. There was a large fire blazing high. A large man sat upon a thronelike chair covered in animal skins with his back to the tent. He held an enormous goblet in one hand. From the other hand dangled a thick leather strap at least six inches in width and a foot and a half in length. Kathryn shivered, half with excitement and half with fear. Yes! This was going to be a perfect fantasy.

“Do you want to see everything that is going on, dearie?”

Kathryn turned startled to find a wizened old woman at her elbow.

“What?” she asked.

“We’ll slip out and watch,” the old woman said. “Your companion is giving the men a fine entertainment this evening. She’s a real fighter, but don’t worry. The master has saved you for himself alone.” Grasping Kathryn’s arm with her taloned fingers, she led her out of the tent to stand in the shadows half behind the throne.

Kathryn’s eyes grew wide at the barbaric scene before her. There had been feasting and drinking. Now the leather-clad warriors were amusing themselves with a blond slave girl. They took turns mounting her, fucking her lustily, howling as they climaxed. The blonde fought them wildly, and sometimes they let her run a few feet before catching her and dragging her back into their clutches once again.

“Mina,” the barbarian lord said. “Is that you behind me?”

“Yes, master. I have the other one with me,” the wizened crone answered.

He dropped the strap in his hand, saying as he did so, “Give her to me.”

Still holding Kathryn’s arm, the hag half dragged her before the barbarian warrior. “Here she is, my lord Temur. Is she not a beauty?” Mina ripped the gauze gown from Kathryn’s shoulders, baring her to the waist. “Look at those tits, my lord. Have you ever seen finer? She was the caliph’s favorite slave girl.”

The barbarian reached out and pulled Kathryn into his lap. One hand reached up to fondle and squeeze her bare breasts as she squirmed in his embrace. “I shall call you
Ember
,” he told her, “because your hair is the red-gold of the embers in the fire.” He squeezed a nipple hard, and she squealed. Temur laughed. “Tonight,” he said, “you will be well fucked, Ember. I can make you scream with pleasure as your caliph never did. His head is now on a stake at the entrance to my encampment. He shrieked like a girl when we sliced off his cock. It was a puny thing hardly worthy of a beautiful slave like you.”

Then suddenly he dumped her from his lap to the earth below, and stood up. “You are being too rough with her,” he shouted at his men, striding over to where the blond slave girl lay cowering, curled up like a small animal.

Bending, the barbarian lord Temur gathered the girl up into his arms, soothing her, whispering in her ear softly, but Kathryn could not hear the words he spoke. He took the girl’s face in his big hands, and said for them all to hear, “She will do what you ask now—won’t you, my beauty? Behold.” He demonstrated. “On your hands and knees, beauty.” And when the girl had taken the position he instructed he knelt behind her, released his cock from his leather trousers, and grasping her by the hips, began to fuck her slowly at first, and then more quickly. His men gathered about him cheering him on as pure pleasure shone on the girl’s face. When he had finished, the girl crawled to the throne where he had reseated himself with Kathryn, and kissed his feet.

“I will do whatever my lord commands,” she said.

“Give my men the same pleasure you just gave me,” he told her.

“Let me be yours alone!” the blond slave girl begged him.

“Do as you have been told, my beauty, or you will be beaten,” he threatened. “Take her away now,” he said to his men, who came for the girl and carried her off to another tent across the encampment. His long, thick fingers kneaded Kathryn’s breasts, marking her delicate skin. “Golden hair has but whetted my appetite,” he murmured, low. “Now it is your turn to pleasure me, and be pleasured in return, my Ember.” Temur stood, and as he did he lifted the woman in his grasp to toss her casually over his shoulder as he walked back into his tent. “Is all in readiness, Mina?” he asked the crone.

“Exactly as you wish it, my lord Temur,” she replied.

“Then go to your pallet. Do not disturb us until dawn, old hag.” He pushed through the flap into the tent, where he casually dropped Kathryn onto a bed of furs briefly while he pulled off his boots and leather trousers. “You will bathe me first,” he said. “I stink from a day’s battle, and the blond slave’s sex. Come! Get up!”

She scrambled to her feet and saw a wood tub filled with water on the far side of the tent. He caught her by her long hair, and pulling her to him, kissed her hard. Then he yanked the rest of her ruined garment off of her. Stepping into the tub, he stood as she took up a sponge and a scrap of soap, and began washing him down. It was not an easy job, for he stood at least half a foot over six feet in height. Everything was long about him. His arms. His legs. His torso. His dangling cock now resting after its earlier exercises. He did not rush her, obviously enjoying the activity. The pouch behind his cock was the largest she had ever seen. She cleansed it gently, knowing a delicate touch was a better path to full arousal. When she had finished and thoroughly dried him, she murmured, low, “May I have the privilege of bathing too, my lord Temur?”

“Very well, but hurry. I am eager to ride you, Ember.”

He sprawled upon the bed of furs, watching her through slitted eyes. Was there something familiar about him? There was, and yet there wasn’t. She quickly bathed herself, and then coming to stand before him she dried herself.

“Spread your nether lips for me,” he commanded her. “I want to see your treasures.” And when she did he nodded, pleased. “Your pleasure button is large. Now come and squat down over my face and spread your lips for me so I may tongue you. You are to make no sound while I do, Ember. If you do I will punish you.”

“But, my lord—” she began.

“You will not speak unless I permit it,” he growled fiercely.

Ohh, she liked this fantasy. He was quite the brute, her barbarian lord. She crouched down over his head, pulled the flesh apart and closed her eyes. The tip of his tongue flicked delicately over her clitoris, sending a rush of delight through her. The skillful tongue swirled about the fleshy pink cavern, stroking, probing, teasing at her clit, which began to swell with the pleasure he was engendering in it. Then suddenly his lips closed over what he had called her pleasure button, and he sucked hard on it. Kathryn could not help herself. She screamed softly.

“Greedy bitch,” he growled at her. “Now you will be punished for your disobedience!” He slid from beneath her, and jumped to his feet. His hand reached out for her long hair, and he wrapped a hank of it about his fist, forcing her up.

“Oh, forgive me, my lord Temur!” she begged him. The look in his eyes was positively and deliciously dangerous.

“I did not give you permission to speak, Ember,” he told her. He half dragged her across the tent and put her between two tent poles. He pushed her hands through leather manacles attached to the poles, and commanded her to hold on to the poles tightly.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked him.

“More disobedience, slave?” he roared angrily.

And then she felt the faint whoosh of air that preceded the leather strap as it hit her buttocks. The blow stung as did the blows that followed. Stung and burned, but did not really hurt her. Interesting, Kathryn thought, but then it was her fantasy, and she was not into painful pleasures like some women. She felt a tingle between her legs. His strap was arousing her lusts. Fascinating, she considered. Then suddenly he loosed her, and she fell to the tent floor.

“On your hands and knees, slave!” he told her, and she scrambled to obey him.