Prisoner of Desire (3 page)

Isobel twisted her head around to look back at him and glared at him proudly despite her utter lack of dignity. ‘That, Alasdair, will never happen!’ She ignored the wicked voice in the back of her mind that was urging her to give into him, for just the gentle caress of his hands was inflaming her desire for him further with every passing moment.

Alasdair yearned so desperately for Isobel to admit to her desire for him that her words filled him with a burning rage. Drawing back his hand, he struck her buttocks sharply, his cock twitching where it was pressed against her stomach as she flinched, colour instantly flooding to the skin. ‘Again I ask you, Isobel!’ he snarled, all uncharacteristic tenderness disappearing in the face of his consuming lust for her. ‘Will you confess to your desire for me?!’

‘No!’

Her stubborn refusal tore away the very last of his self-control. Alasdair spanked her again and again. Every involuntary moan that broke forth from her tightly clenched lips was a fresh thrill to him, and he could barely even think clearly under the weight of the heated blood pounding through every vein and sinew of his body.

However, even in the highly-strung state of lust and agitation that had gripped him, Alasdair slowly began to recognise that the moans Isobel was making as she writhed against his legs were no longer simple moans of agony – he had heard enough of those in his time to know the difference, and the sounds that his Isobel was now making were, he was convinced, moans of pleasure.

Astounded that she seemed to be drawing pleasure from the spanking, Alasdair paused to test his suspicion. He was delighted, for though his intention had been only to punish her for her disobedience, the thought of the innocent maiden finding enjoyment in his sadistic pleasures thrilled him deeply. ‘Isobel?’ he muttered hoarsely, tracing the curve of her buttocks with his fingers and forcing her thighs apart. ‘Isobel, my lovely, are you enjoying this?!’

She shook her head hastily, but it was a lie. Though it had been the very last thing she had expected would happen, as she had slowly become accustomed to the stinging pain each time his hand descended upon her buttocks, Isobel’s pain had receded to be replaced by far more pleasurable sensations; a clenching, consuming ache in her very core that only increased every time that Alasdair struck her. However much she tried to ignore it, she could not hold back her soft moans, and it seemed that they had alerted him to what she was feeling. Panicking as she felt his touch on the very inside of her thighs, she shook her head again. ‘No, Alasdair, I will enjoy nothing that you do to me, you brute!’

Her denial did little to convince him. A slow, disbelievingly smile curving back his lips, Alasdair’s body tensed up as he sought out the most intimate part of Isobel, his fingers pushing their way in between the delicate folds and, to his great delight, slipping in easily as she instinctively pushed down against his hand. Isobel’s reaction was wholly unconscious, her body responding to Alasdair before she could even realise that it was, against her will, welcoming this greatest of intrusions.

‘No!’ she screamed, fighting against her body and trying to pull away again, almost sobbing with horror and humiliation as he tormented her so in front of the rapt audience of men who were all now red-faced and pumping furiously at their cocks as they stared at her.

‘Well, my men!’ Alasdair said slowly, ignoring her horrified protest and reluctantly looking away from Isobel to address them, though his fingers were still caressing and teasing her as her moans grew louder against her will. ‘It would seem that my lady is indeed enjoying her punishment far more than I anticipated she would, the saucy little wench! Shall I see how much more pleasure I can persuade her body to give to her?’

Their loud groans as Alasdair wound a hand through Isobel’s hair and yanked her impatiently back up to sit across his lap spoke their approval of his suggestion; and when he forced her legs apart over his and withdrew his hand, the groans only increased in volume.

Isobel leaned her head against his shoulder, struggling to catch her breath as mingled panic and arousal consumed her body, her heart racing and her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Alasdair reached up to draw one breast back into his hand and lowered his head to claim her lips again as he reached down with his other hand to brush his fingers against the part of her that he knew would increase her pleasure tenfold.

She shrieked throatily into his mouth, unable to understand how the briefest of lewd touches from a man she wanted so badly to hate could give her so much pleasure. As Alasdair swallowed her frantic moans of pleasure, it struck him again that no woman had ever affected him this strongly before – even disregarding the lingering effects of the adrenalin from the battle to take Glen Carrick, the way that Isobel was arousing him with such ferocity was something he had never experienced before.

Devoting himself to cruelly forcing every last possible bit of pleasure from her, he rolled her nipple between the tips of his fingers as his other hand worked against her. Isobel could not defy her body any longer and she gave herself over to the pleasure that was bursting through her, slumping back against Alasdair and finally parting her lips to permit his tongue the entrance it craved.

The realisation that she was submitting to him was a deep, joyous ecstasy, and Alasdair could barely hold himself back from thrusting his cock into her lithe, virgin body where they still sat on the stool in the middle of the solar. He was, though, determined to wait just a few moments longer until he had taken Isobel to the peak of her pleasure, convinced that not only was she torturously close to attaining it, but that when she had she would be unable to deny him the words he so wanted to hear.

Isobel began to shudder deeply again, but this it was not from fear, but from the convulsive waves of pleasure that were shooting through her body. Dizzy and light-headed, she suddenly jerked uncontrollably and screamed out loud as it consumed her entirely, the force of the climax that Alasdair delivered to her far beyond anything that Isobel had ever known it was possible to feel.

Helpless in his arms, she simply stared up at Alasdair through her heavy-lidded, darkened eyes as he stood up and carried her back over to the bed, pausing at the foot of it to stare down at her, hunger written all over his face. ‘Tell me now, Isobel! You cannot deny your desire for me any longer!’ he exclaimed with a heavy groan, painfully aware of the pleading tone to his low voice and suddenly resenting her for driving him into such a state.

Though the exquisite pleasures he had already shown to her were still lingering, spreading down to the very tips of her toes and filling Isobel with an aching need for everything else that Alasdair had to give to her, she still could not bring herself to confess to the desire she now knew she felt for him, the shame of it too great. Too breathless to speak, she simply shook her head, and with a terrible scowl distorting his handsome face, Alasdair threw her down onto the bed, pinning her hands above her head and propping himself up over her.

‘Isobel, my Isobel, you could have made this so much easier for yourself!’ Alasdair wore a cold, fearsome fury in his eyes as Isobel twisted her head to look away from him. ‘Now, my lovely, I am going to rape you, and there is nothing – nothing! – that you can do about it!’

Panic took hold of her, despite the fact that she knew there was nothing she could do to evade Alasdair’s assault. Isobel unleashed a piercing scream, drawing her knees up and kicking out at him. Her renewed defiance infuriating him, Alasdair did not hesitate in driving his cock into her without any regard for the maidenhead that he tore through with the force of his thrust.

Isobel whimpered loudly, the sudden and searing pain catching her unawares, and Alasdair took a grim satisfaction in the way that her eyes had widened and tears had pooled in their depths, though that satisfaction faded in comparison to the thrill that had inflamed him upon claiming her in the most primal and pleasurable of ways. It was all he could do to stay still as the warmth of her gripped him tightly, afraid that if he began to forcefully slam into her in the manner he wanted, he would be unable to prevent his own climax from stealing over him already.

With the greatest of efforts, Alasdair brought himself under control and drew back slightly, Isobel’s wrists still trapped in his hands and pinned against the mattress. A low, triumphant growl burst forth from his parted lips as he thrust into her once more, and then again, his movements deepening the flush of her skin as, tentatively, she raised her hips in time with his thrusts, the reaction wholly instinctive yet precisely what he desired from her.

It was not, however, enough; Alasdair was filled with the urge to give her even more pleasure than he already had done, desperately wanting her to respond to him again. To draw pleasure from her even as he raped her would be the greatest of humiliations and triumphs over the woman who had dared to stand against him. Withdrawing with a pained curse, he released her wrists and then flipped Isobel onto her stomach, re-entering her from behind and forcing his hands between the woman and the sheets she was pressed into.

Isobel began to sob in earnest as he pinched at her nipples again, the strange mingling of pain and pleasure too much for her to cope with. The loud, lascivious grunts and groans that filled the room tormented her as all the while her treacherous body responded to Alasdair’s assault with the greatest of enthusiasm. ‘Alasdair, please!’ she begged, tears streaming from her face into the sheets, but his only response to her plea was to increase the speed and force of his thrusts and to move one hand from her breasts to skilfully manipulate her clitoris once more, hastening the climax that he sensed was nearing again.

She shook beneath him, waves of heat and pleasure cascading through her body as Alasdair’s touch drove her inescapably towards her peak. There was nothing she could do to stop him or prevent it from consuming her again. Isobel buried her face in the sheets to muffle her screams as she convulsed violently.

Realising that she was trying to prevent him from hearing her pleasure, Alasdair withdrew the hand that was still groping eagerly at her breasts to seize a handful of her long hair and pull her head free of the sheets, twisting it to the side so that she was forced to look up at him. ‘You will not hide your pleasure from me, Isobel!’ he snarled as the colour on her face deepened yet further, frantic moans still bursting forth from her parted lips despite her efforts to quiet them.

Her sobs increased, but this time when her climax finally slowed Alasdair did not remove his hand, for he was determined to torment her for daring to try to conceal from him the pleasure he was forcing upon her. As Isobel bucked against him, feeling another climax building already, she shook her head desperately, for she could barely breathe from the weight of all the new and overwhelming sensations pressing down upon her, and did not think she would be able to cope with any more. ‘Oh God, Alasdair, please stop!’ she begged, choking and gasping for breath. ‘You have forced yourself upon me, is that not enough for you?!’

‘No, Isobel, it is not! I am your master now, my lovely, and if I command you to climax for me, then that is what you will do!’ Turning his head to the side, he covered her lips with his own and thrust his tongue inside her mouth, mimicking the way that his cock was moving inside her, possessing her completely and delivering physical ecstasies that she had never before even known could exist.

The feel of his lips upon hers was enough to drive Isobel over the edge. Entirely drained and spent by the sheer ferocity of her third climax, all fight disappeared from her body and she slumped into the mattress, whimpering softly as Alasdair wrapped his arms around her and gathered her into his body as he rolled onto his side, his own climax arriving at the same time. Thrusting into her with a desperate passion and all the energy he could muster, he groaned loudly as his hot seed spurted from his throbbing cock.

Alasdair could remember no more pleasurable climax before in all his years of experience of such things, and the realisation that this woman was his and so completely at his mercy took the last of his breath away. As Isobel’s head rolled back onto his chest, for she was perilously close to swooning completely, he covered her face in frantic, gasping kisses as he fought for breath, only the audience they had giving him the presence of mind to stop himself from blurting out foolish words of love, much to his disgust. No doubt such ridiculous thoughts were borne simply of the passion they had just shared, but it was the very last thing he had expected.

With a grimace, he slowly withdrew his cock from the muscles that were still gripping it tightly, cursing disbelievingly under his breath as he felt it already beginning to pulse again in readiness to claim Isobel once more. It was evident, though, that she was now barely conscious, and Alasdair wanted her fully aware of everything he wanted to do to her; her humiliation and lessons were far from complete, and his body still craved her response despite the immense satisfaction he had already taken from her.

Propping himself up against the back of the bed, he stared down at Isobel in wonder as she watched him warily through the heavy eyelids that she was struggling to keep open. Her pale skin still held a deep flush that covered the whole of her body, and her fair hair was tousled, fanned out around her face as she rolled onto her side. Her buttocks, though, were redder than any other part of her body, bearing the marks of the spanking he had delivered, and Alasdair reached out to gently caress them.