The Knight's Prisoner (12 page)

Anger crossed her face. “How can you say that?” she demanded, spit flying in fury, tears spilling as she spoke. “That's what you really think? Truly? I should not be surprised. You never believed in what I offered you. I guess in your eyes a
whore
is not capable of love. Is that what you think?”

Pain seared in his chest. He stared at her, torn by his anger and some new hope seeping through. He wanted to throw her down and walk swiftly away, but he couldn't move. He couldn't look away. The depth of pain in her eyes matched his own. He faltered. Mayhap he'd been wrong.

“Or do you think your scars make you un-loveable?” she asked in a soft and dangerous tone.

He set her down on the ground, feeling dizzy. Something in him had just cracked open, and the flood of conflicting emotion was too strong.

“You were always planning to escape,” he accused her, trying to find solid ground. How could he believe in love from someone who wanted to leave?

“But I didn't,” she pleaded, weeping openly. “When I walked in that tavern, I felt sick, Ferrum. And I knew my place was with you.”

The world tilted and righted itself, and he felt the ground more solidly under his feet. A full breath filled his chest for the first time all day. “I thought you were mine.” His voice cracked on the last word, and tears filled his eyes momentarily before he blinked them back angrily. Her eyes widened and she opened and closed her mouth with a look of shock. He cursed himself inwardly for showing her emotion like that.

But her eyes filled with tears as well. “That's what I'm telling you—I
am
yours,” she whispered. “I'm sorry, Ferrum,” she said, looking genuinely pained. “I didn't think about how—” she swallowed, “—how my servicing another man would affect you.”

It hadn't occurred to him she wouldn't understand fidelity. But he supposed someone who had given her body to hundreds of men might not attach the same meaning to it he did. He rubbed her arms where he'd been holding her, fearing suddenly he had left bruises. “How could you not know you were mine?” he asked, but his voice was forgiving.

She dashed at her tears with the back of her hand and shrugged. “I don't know—I never imagined anyone would want me.”

He believed her, but it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard in his life. “But Dani, I
told
you that you were mine. Many times. Did you not know that meant mine alone?”

She shook her head. “I don't know—I just never thought you meant anything by it. Are you saying you'd have me… as your…” she trailed off uncertainly.

He cupped her face in his hands. “My wife? Aye. Would you have me, little flower?”

She nodded silently, tears still running down her pale cheeks.

He pulled her head toward him and kissed the top of it before folding it into his chest. “I'll kill any man who touches you,” he said with a note of challenge, not sure if she truly knew what she was agreeing to.

“I won't allow any man to touch me, Ferrum. I promise.”

“I'll use you however I like. All day long if I want.”

She laughed tearfully into his chest, then tipped her head back to look at him. “I hope so.”

“I will tie you up and spank you and make you say you love me.”

“Tonight?” she asked, her voice soft with desire, eyes filled with heat. His cock hardened.

“Aye. Tonight I will spank and spank and spank and teach you never to stray again.”

Her breath had quickened, and he saw the war between fear and desire in her face. He ran his thumb along the delicate bones of her cheek. “I'll make you remember who you belong to,” he said, his voice husky. He saw the twin points of her nipples standing up under her bodice just for him.

* * *

She was trembling all over just in anticipation of his touch. She had no doubt he would spank her all night, as he had promised. He had sent her into the tent with the order to kneel in wait for him.

“Take off your dress, little flower,” Ferrum commanded softly, extinguishing the candle so their forms wouldn't be seen as shadows through the tent walls. Still, their sounds would be heard—not that it would be the first time the camp had heard her punishment or their sex.

He was sitting on his bedroll, his eyes heavy-lidded, filled with a dark desire. She met his eye as she slowly peeled off her clothing and let it fall to the ground in a heap. She stepped out of the skirts and bent to pick them up and fold them neatly, but Ferrum growled, “Leave 'em. Come to me.”

She went and knelt before him, waiting for instruction. He took hold of one of her nipples and pinched, slowly increasing the pressure until she gasped and involuntarily tried to move away, which—of course—only made it worse.

“Mine,” Ferrum growled.

“Yes,” she agreed, panting. He released her nipple. “I want your bottom right here,” he said patting his lap. She laid across his lap. “No, like this,” he said, picking up one of her legs and swinging it over his head so she straddled him, facing away, her bottom presented to him with her legs spread wide. She was lying over his outstretched legs, and he tossed a blanket down to her for cushioning. She had only just tucked it under her chest and head when the first slap fell. Ferrum continued swatting her in rapid succession, changing from side to side until her entire bottom started to sting. It felt good, even as the burn increased. She reveled in Ferrum's intense focus on her after the silent treatment he'd given her. She enjoyed the sting of his hand on her flesh, the way her sex was spread open for his view in this position.

The intensity of the sting began to grow, and she had to close her eyes and breathe, willing herself to relax and open to the sensation, rather than try to escape it. She heard herself whimper but felt no true distress.

He continued with no sign of stopping, and soon she started to grow agitated. She wrapped her lower legs behind his back to keep herself from kicking, fearing she might kick him in the face in the position she was in. Even as her agitation grew, the level of intensity with which he was striking her increased. Her whimpers grew louder, and her bottom started bobbing, trying in vain to dodge the blows. She felt the urge to beg and plead welling up in her. She pushed it firmly back down and let herself cry instead. She clutched at his lower legs with her fingers digging in and started to sob softly. Still, he didn't stop.

He began to slap just one side—the same place over and over again until her hips were writhing frantically under the cruel bite. He then moved his target and slapped up and down that thigh several times before moving to give the other side the same tortuous treatment. The anticipation of knowing what was to come made it worse, but because it was her left side he couldn't strike her quite as hard in the position she was in. Still, it smarted terribly.

The spanking suddenly stopped, and she felt his lips pressed to her hot cheek, the scratch of his stubble feeling rough against her chaffed skin. He rubbed her bottom for a few moments. Her pussy was dripping wet, so hungry for his touch. She feared he'd make her wait all night for her pleasure, but he was not so cruel. She felt a finger dip into her honeyed moisture, but then it withdrew too soon. The moistened finger pressed into her arsehole, and she moaned and pushed back to allow entry. It felt too large and too rough and she had to fight hard not to tighten against it.

“Ow… ah… Ferrum,” she gasped.

“Yes, my little flower,” he rumbled in a low voice, and she felt a second finger pressing into her sex. That gave her everything she needed, and she followed its movement. He was using a thumb in each hole, if she was feeling it right. The palm of his hand cupped her mound and gave her delicious feedback on her nub of pleasure. He worked the thumbs simultaneously together, stroking in and out, then alternating first one, then the other, which she preferred. Tension coiled up in her, wrapped tighter and tighter as she spread her legs wider, pushing back at him eagerly, rocking her hips to meet each thumb as it alternately pushed into her. She started making a soft, keening cry as the need became almost painful, and then she tumbled over the edge of the cliff, bucking against him, biting her lip to keep from howling as the pleasure rolled through her in delicious waves. Spent, she collapsed limply on his legs as he slid his thumbs slowly out of her.

He parted his legs, depositing her torso on the bedroll and rolling her onto her back before grasping her thighs and pulling her hips up close to his own. Her body felt as though it were made of custard, and she couldn't do anything but stare at him with a stupid little smile on her face. He bent her knees up so she lay with her sex fully presented to him. He turned to one of the bent knees and slapped her inner thigh. The zing of pain registered and started to pull her out of her post-climactic languor. He slapped it again. Then again, traveling down from the knee toward her parted sex.

Her breath quickened, and she began to tremble with the combined pleasure and pain sensations swirling through her body. He turned to the other leg and gave that inner thigh the same treatment, slapping hard down it. He patted her sex a few times, but his wrist was at a bad angle to slap it with any force. He picked up her ankles and crossed them, holding them in one of his large hands and lifting them back over her head. He moved onto his knees and brought his big palm down squarely on her sex.

“Ack!” she shrieked, a bit of fear sharpening all her senses.

“Ack?” he asked conversationally.

He spanked her sex again three times in rapid succession. She jumped and tried to squirm out of Ferrum's grasp with every smack.

“
Mine
,” he growled and spanked it again and again. She whimpered and kicked.

“Ferrum,” she gasped.

“Aye?” He paused the spanking.

“Please don't be mad at me,” she said in a tiny voice.

He brought her upturned foot to his mouth and bit it. “Nay, little flower. I'm not mad at you. I'm just teaching you who you belong to.” Then he sat back and cradled her foot, looking serious. “You really are mine now?”

She met his eyes and nodded solemnly.

“No more thoughts of escape?”

She shook her head. “Nay… I'm here to stay. With you.”

Ferrum's eyes glittered as he held her gaze, a satisfied smile on his face. “Then I'll be having my way with you now.”

She smiled back. “I thought that's what you were doing.”

He shook his head. “That was just a warm-up. I meant it when I said I'd spank you all night.”

A thrill of fear and excitement ran through her, because she had imagined he was almost through with his deliberate torture of her sensitive parts. He used her legs to spin her around on her back so her head faced him and then he shed his clothes and crawled over her to put his cock into her mouth. He had the control in this position, and he moved in and out of her as he pleased, using her mouth as he might have used her sex, thrusting deeply so that she had to relax her throat not to gag. She used one hand to massage his balls and the other to grip the base of his cock, closing her lips firmly. He pulled out before he came, and he spilled his seed on her breasts. She smiled and rubbed it over her sensitive nipples until he knocked her hands away. “
Mine,
” he insisted and pinched them.

“Aye, Ferrum—yours,” she gasped, arching into his hands.

“Go and fetch my sword belt,” he said.

Her belly flipped. She peered at him, but was reassured again that he didn't appear angry. For the briefest of moments she considered arguing, but that would ruin the pleasure of wanton submission she was feeling. Because Ferrum's measured infliction of both pain and pleasure had left her reveling in the feeling of being completely owned, completely possessed. For the first time in her life, someone wanted
her
—all of her, not just what she offered when she flipped up her skirts and bent over behind the tavern.

She obeyed him, her palms already beginning to sweat at the thought of the pain he could mete out with his belt. When she brought it to him, he pulled her down into his lap and looked into her eyes, burning a hole into her soul with the intensity of his gaze. He lifted her head to his and possessed her mouth roughly, his lips covering hers with a bruising contact, his tongue thrusting aggressively into her mouth. She made a little mewling sound and clung to his shoulders, until he pulled abruptly away, and she gave a soft sigh. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You are so beautiful,” he said.

She lay back, weak-limbed in his arms and stared up at her fierce knight. “So are you,” she murmured.

He seemed disturbed by that and abruptly flipped her over. She held her breath and did not wait long for the first crack of his worn leather belt. The intense sting was almost welcome in the state she was in—her perception of pain and pleasure already so blurred from their previous activities. She also welcomed it as the chance to clear the slate with Ferrum—to pay her dues, as it were, for hurting him. He brought the belt down again and again, and she hissed and whimpered under its burn.

“Mine. Mine. Mine.” Ferrum said with each stroke, while she gasped and flinched. He strapped up her bottom and back down and then caught her on the back of the legs. She pressed her knuckles into her mouth to keep from screaming. He struck her there again, and she panicked, struggling uselessly against his firm hold. “It hurts a fair bit more on the backs of your legs, doesn't it?” Ferrum asked musingly.

“Ferrum,” she choked. “You're spanking so hard.”

“I know, little flower,” he said tenderly, stroking up and down the long curve of her back with his huge palm. “I plan to spank you to tears tonight.” He began to strap her again with the belt, so hard she knew she'd have difficulty sitting the next day.

Knowing he desired her tears—that he needed this—helped her let go of any push to be strong. She welcomed each welting bite of his belt until she broke down and wept, releasing her guilt and responsibility with her sobs. He lifted her and carried her to the bedding, tucking the woolen blanket around her, lying down next to her. His hand rubbed her blistered bottom, and he murmured comforting words in her ear. And though she could not seem to attend to their meaning, she felt the tenderness in them. She pressed her face into his chest and cried until there were no more tears to be cried, feeling loved and cared for. Feeling as if she were exactly where she belonged—in the safety and comfort of Ferrum's strong arms, cleansed of her sins, knowing the strength of his passion for her.