Saffina's Season (6 page)

I whimpered in protest as lust mingled with fear.

A strange look came over his face.

“You find this too harsh? I know, my love. But it’s a vital lesson, and one you must learn if you’re to get through the Season alive. For now, you must simply submit. Understood?”

I nodded, tears squeezing out. As I bowed my head to hear him pronounce my fate, I cursed my rash decision to conceal where I’d been. Today, for some reason, he took this badly. Did London put him out of sorts? Or was it my being here?

My mind raced.

My lordly husband had unusual tastes and a checkered past. This was his first London Season with a wife in tow. Was I
de trop
?

“Hold up your breasts.” His command made me jump. Now I saw my fate in his hands. He passed the long, thin lashes of a flogger through his fine fingers.

With one final, piteous look, I closed my eyes and waited.

The whip trailed over my quivering skin, teasing my nipples with a long, sinuous stroke that sent a shaft of flame straight to my groin.

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch.”

As I did so, I saw he’d lifted a piece of dark velvet from a large picture frame propped against one wall. It held a mirror showing me naked, gagged and ready for punishment, breasts pink, swelling with wicked excitement and growing rosier by the minute, my eyes large and bright with unshed tears.

“Seeing yourself enhances the effect.”

His voice made me tremble. His mouth curved into a cruel smile, making his reflection even more striking. He surveyed me from the looking glass, elegant and urbane, his handsome face edged with daylight, his lithe figure clearly aroused.

I felt an answering throb somewhere deep below, where my tiny place was starting to pulse.

I don’t care what he says. We’re at play.

The thought sent eager heat rippling through me, raising my nubs to hard, jutting points.

I saw a flash from his eyes, then without warning the first blow landed, a sharp snap of lashes that seemed to cover every angle of my curved, swollen breasts.

“One. Hold them up again. Pinch them a little.”

I did it, pleading with my eyes, still forbidden to speak. I felt my belly grow tense with arousal. Glancing down, I saw, his trousers bulged with all I needed, all it would take to turn this torment into bliss.

Worse, I sensed he found it hard to contain himself. His urge to confine me burned hotter than his own need for release. The strain was starting to show.

“Two.”

This time the blow landed from the other side. His eyes gleamed as he struck again, this time full across my bosom. I blinked furiously to clear away the tears welling up as he lashed twice more at my smarting breasts. But for once, it seemed, my distress had no power to move him.

Now he began to fondle them, his hand cool on my punished globes, his fingers cruelly tight on my pebble-hard nipples. In the mirror I could see the bulge of his own arousal, where deep in his clothes his cock burned for release. The sight of it straining, hungry for me, made me ache.

“One more. But first we’ll wait for these to bloom.”

He touched his lips to my forehead and my spilling tears, tasting gently. With a lazy smile he ran his thumb over my shaming leather gag and pushed me down to my knees.

“Such a waste to imprison your mouth, my love. Fear not. I’ll free it soon then we’ll make full use of it, I promise.”

At last he reached once more for the whip. I steeled myself for more of the same, clutching my aching breasts with new dread.

“Six.”

At the final flick of his wrist, I whimpered in fear as the lashes landed with a crash straight across, the new angle giving him full access, their rosy fullness now striped and aching.

And as I blinked again, struggling for air, he swiftly removed the gag and unfastened himself. With a cold smile, he stepped up close. His cock loomed before my face, proud, hot and hard, its glossy skin a vivid reminder that this had been almost as punishing for him as for me. With trembling lips I leaned forward to salute it with a reverent kiss, knowing that this, of all things, sealed his pleasure nearly as much as what he now wanted me to do.

“Lick it first. All along. I want it to slide in without a snag when you take it deeper.”

His simple command, the husky note in his voice, both signs of his urgency, fused into a message of love. As I glanced up at his face, I saw sudden new warmth, fond and full of longing. As I licked and suckled, he ran a hand down the side of my face to feel along my neck.

The tenderness in his fingertips almost sent me over the edge.

“Now the crown. Suck for a while before you begin your stroke.”

His soft commands directed my eager mouth and soothed my fears, at the same time fanning my flames. Still tearful but eager now, heady from my punishment, I drove myself onto his length, forcing my throat open to reach deeper and deeper along it as my punished breasts smarted and prickled against the fabric of his trousers. Somehow their tiny extra sting heightened things. When he finally stilled and came, his creamy essence trickled into my throat like a soothing balm.

Inspired, I spat some onto my hand and wiped it over my hot breasts, trembling at the sudden coolness on my fiery skin. Now my globes glistened with his juices, the sting easing a little but another starting up as the tingling fired up anew, this time from his cream, as thick on my breasts as on my tongue.

He looked on with delighted amusement.

“Dash it, Saffina. You still surprise.” With a shout of laughter, he raised me to my feet, kissed my tormented breasts with his eager mouth and pulled me close. And when his mouth finally found mine, and our tongues lovingly mingled, I knew that once more we’d come back from some brink.

But why was he so angry?

What on earth does he think I’ve been doing?

Chapter Six

We lingered over luncheon. After our morning encounter, I felt elated, like I always did after discipline. I chatted brightly, increasingly alarmed at Jacquard’s gloom but keen to find out his movements.

“So, what will you do for the rest of this week, sir? Take some hits in the fencing rooms? Place a bet on the fight at Gentleman Jackson’s?”

The second I said it, I bit back my tongue. His look turned instantly stormy.

That’s it. He’s lost a wager.

“I see no reason to share my weekly rota with you, if you refuse to share yours.”

Oh no.
This bit deep, clearly. As I finished my meal, I turned to lighter matters.

“What of the opera this evening? Are we to go? Will everyone be there?”

Soon he started to relax as my eager inquiries made him smile. I’d asked him before but never tired of him telling me.

A visit to the opera was a long-promised high point of our stay in town. He’d assured me I’d find it dazzling.

“And are we to visit Vauxhall, sir?”

“Tomorrow, perhaps.” His smile faded. “This afternoon you should rest. We’ll be making a night of it. And right now I have business to see to.”

Excitement tingled in my groin. In our private code, essential in a place so full of watchful servants,
rest
meant something very different—far more vigorous and usually immensely satisfying. In the peace and quiet of my rooms later this afternoon, he’d expect my detailed and energetic attention.

I smiled demurely while the footmen cleared our plates and placed a dish of tiny biscuits and a bowl of cherries between us.

I dangled a loop of cherries over my lips and teased them with the tip of my tongue, eyeing him from under my lashes.

“And at what hour can I expect you, sir?”

He watched my antics in silence, his dark look sending new shivers through me. My punished breasts tingled anew, smarting afresh under his steady gaze. I thrust forward their swollen fullness, hoping it showed under the muslin of my modest
fichu
.

I guessed right. He gazed at them, his expression thoughtful.

“Around two, shall we say? For a couple of hours?”

His low murmur sent a ripple of excitement all the way to my belly. I felt my nipples stiffen against the fabric.

“Long enough to tot up your losses, my lord?”

His smile vanished.

Oh no, I was right. How much has he lost?

“I’ll leave around four. That should give us time to dress. I’ll order the carriage for seven.” He flung down his napkin, pushed back his chair then strode from the room before the startled footman could dart forward.

What have I said?
Dismay crept through me.

* * * *

After lunch, I took extra care over my toilette, dismissing my maid as soon as I could. Some preparations would be needed before Jacquard’s arrival, and I’d no wish to reveal the marks on my breasts to my servant.

My regular maids knew me well. I cared little what they thought. But Annie was young, new and easily shocked.

By the time I dismissed her, I was seething with impatience.

Will he still be angry? Will he forbid me to go out?

Until now our marriage had been idyllic, our union all I could wish. Now he was treating me to my first ever Season here in the capital and all felt sour.

I lay back on the silk-draped daybed to wait, artfully tweaking my lace to form a saucy tableau. I thought about Jacquard, the dark look in his eyes whenever he caught my eye with some wicked new plan of his own.

Slowly I slipped my hand down to my thighs…

“Wake up.”

I snapped my eyes open. Inches from my face, I saw a pair of man’s breeches. Below, a pair of powerful legs, proudly astride. Above, a naked chest sprinkled with dark, curling hair.

Jacquard.

“You pleasure yourself so soon, milady? Without
me
?”

The twinkle in his eyes hinted he was funning. The bulge in his breeches, so close to my face, hinted his impatience.

“Your pleasures come before mine?”

He sat beside me, running his hand along my throat and farther down, tracing the swell of my breasts, still rosy with punishment.

“You never objected before,” I giggled. “You like to see me come. You…
oh
.”

With a lunge, he rolled me over, bent me down and had me over his lap. Pinning my legs with one of his, he slipped his hand into my skirts and inched the fine linen ruffles up my thighs to where my quivering ass now curved over his knees.

Laughing, I wriggled to try to work free, all in vain. I felt his arm press on my back as he leaned down to kiss my nape. I felt a shimmer of warm breath on my skin as he murmured softly between kisses.

“I’m going to give you a hiding. You’ve no right to pleasure yourself without me to watch. And you’re going to have one very sore ass unless you tell me where you went today.”

“Loose me, sir, I beg you. Let me pleasure myself in peace. And I go where I please.
Oh.
”

His hand landed with a crash on my bare backside, the sting of the blow stopping my breath. I felt his lips on my neck again, this time in a hot, lingering kiss.

“Where did you go? Tell me.”

“No.”

Now I felt him slide his hand deep between my legs, where signs of my shame were pooling already.

“Outrageous. My wife sees to herself while I’m forced to wait?”

His hand fell again.

“And she seeks the company of others without telling me why?”

The laugh in his voice made me giggle again, elated now that his game was well underway. Beneath me I felt his breeches swell further, his cockstand jutting painfully, dangerously close to my pulsing center and likely to bring me off if he did this much longer.

“You’ve every right to ask, sir, and I’ve every right to stay silent,” I announced primly.

His hand landed again, harder this time. My loud squeal brought on a barrage of blows on my burning backside that left me weeping and joyful at the same time.

“Kneel.”

His command filled me with dread. As I slid to my knees between his thighs, I glanced up, nervous now. Usually this was a high point in our game, when we shared a moment so intimate I wondered how I could ever be so happy.

Now his tone surprised me. He sounded truly angry.

“Seriously, you refuse to tell me, Saffina?”

I pouted, playful but firm. “Yes, my lord. I refuse to tell you.”

For a second, I thought I’d gone too far. The flicker of pain in his eyes was a shock.

Whatever ails him?

But the pain lasted barely a second. It quickly turned to ice. As he freed himself, he thrust his twitching monster into my face with none of his usual caresses, no loving murmur.

“Suck.”

It was not an invitation, but a command. His edgy manner made me tremble.

“Jacquard?” My soft whisper seemed muffled down here in the warmth of his crotch.

Above me his gaze stayed cold, the glint in his eyes harder now.

“I’m waiting.”

I rarely needed a prompt. Now I leaned up and took his cock deeply into my mouth, working it with generous sweeps of my tongue, tasting hungrily to get it wet then pushing low along it to get it even stiffer. Normally this came so easily that he joked I’d finish him in half the time it took him to free it.

But today my throat felt tight. I found it an effort to swallow. He stroked my face for a few moments as I struggled to reach his root. Then he pushed me away.

Horrified, I gazed up at him with tears in my eyes.

“Forgive me, my lord,” I whispered. “I seem to have— I mean, I find it hard to—”

“So I see. Come up here.” With a frown, he lifted me onto his lap and clasped his hands loosely behind my waist. “You seem anxious. You feel guilty, perhaps? You’re so primed with your own pleasure you’ve lost interest in mine? For the last time, tell me where you went today. Your maid and your coachman were frantic. Pérot, your bodyguard, was distraught.” His eyes glittered, his jaw set and grim. “You plan to make a habit of this?”

Still jittery from my spanking, I bit back dismay. My plans for his gift were barely begun and the secret was almost out? I decided on a partial confession.