Purebred (6 page)

"You think to fight me in bed, Lady
Isobel? Or will you make a doll of me and stick me full of
pins?"

"The latter would be a cowardly way to
fight you, and I am no coward."

No, he could see that. His heart
jumped a few beats before it found a good rhythm again.

"You will never make me into one of
your conquests, d'Anzeray. I do not have a fool's heart. Mine is as
black as yours."

"I don't care about your heart," he
assured her. "But your body promises me many hours of
delight."

"My body is just as easily roused by
my maid's tongue as it was by your finger. It matters not who
touches it, the result is the same. Whatever you've been told by
your many, indiscriminate and brain-addled hussies, there is
nothing remarkable about you, Alonso d'Anzeray."

He stared.

"Perhaps we can go back now," she
said, one eyebrow arched. "Since you are done proving your precious
point."

Alonso bowed and gestured to his
horse.

As she walked by the
maybe-witch added softly, "And I shall prove
my
point tonight."

Chapter Four

"My lady, is there any advice I can
give you?" said Jeanne as she helped her into the linen nightshift
that evening.

Isobel shook her head. "I heard it all
before I came here for my wedding. I was told what to expect by my
mother." Not that any of it had ever come to pass, of
course.

The maid finally placed a rabbit
trimmed cloak around her mistress's shoulders to keep the chill
off.

Outside the rain still fell. It had
not stopped since her ride in the forest, and occasionally a swell
of wind pushed it hard at the shutters. She shivered, but it was
caused as much by the wicked excitement dancing restlessly through
her blood as it was by the drop in temperature. "I am
ready."

Jeanne opened the door. A page waited
to take her to her husband's chamber. Just as she turned away, the
maid reached for her hand and murmured, "For luck, my
lady."

It was a four-leaf clover pressed into
her palm. Isobel was more moved than she could say. After a quick
embrace she left the chamber, stepping out into the drafty
corridor. The flames of the page's torch fluttered and spat as they
walked along. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, and her nipples
felt extra sensitive as the pleats of her shift moved against them.
At the last minute, as the Baron's door loomed, she thought of
running away, back to her chamber and bolting the door.

But she was no weakling, and Alonso
d'Anzeray did not frighten her. He would learn that
tonight.

The door swung open as if their
approach was heard, and there he was in a long, belted robe. With
something in his hand.

* * * *

The Baron was settled in a chair at
the foot of his large bed, a jug of wine and a platter of bread,
cheese, and fruit at his side. Clearly he was settled in to be
entertained. Alonso would have been amused by that if he was not
too busy anticipating the pleasures to come and thinking of his
first moves.

When he saw Isobel approaching,
surrounded by that flickering, darting light, it was not difficult
to put the Baron out of his mind and focus on her.

His balls felt heavy. Christ, he'd
been in this state of arousal since that morning in the forest. He
did, indeed, feel like a stud horse tonight. One who had scented
his mate and would soon hurt himself in the stall if he was not
freed to tackle her.

She wore her hair tied back in a
braid. Her appearance was innocent, maidenly. A lamb to the
slaughter. He licked his lips.

"Lady Isobel."

Her eyes moved to the ribbons in his
hands, but she did not ask what they were. Passing Alonso with no
response to his greeting, she walked to her husband and curtseyed.
So she meant to play the prim lady still. Never would she relent
and confess she was aroused by him.

He closed the door and bolted
it

The Baron was already ordering his
wife to undress and lie on the bed. "I wish to discuss the rules of
this...mating," he croaked from his chair, "before it
begins."

Alonso watched the woman slip out of
her cloak and then her shift. Both garments pooled around her feet.
She stepped out of them and lay on her back, her eyes staring up at
the ceiling beams. Not once did she look at the man who was to fuck
her.

"The two of you will not kiss," the
Baron continued, his swollen fingers clasped around a goblet of
wine. "You will never couple when I am not here to watch. You,
d'Anzeray, will not spend with any other woman while you are
servicing my wife and until she is with child. When she is
impregnated these visits will end. You, Isobel, will not touch
yourself improperly or seek release in any other way until you have
conceived." He paused for a sip of wine and then added, "You may
begin."

Alonso walked up to the bed and looked
down at her small teardrop breasts, her long legs and the dark,
tight curls of her vulva. She was well-made, despite the lack of
"cushioning" that so appalled her husband. Alonso understood now
that it was all part of her character—this denial of food and
pleasure. Somehow she thought it would make her a better person if
she was miserable all her life. He thought only nuns believed that,
but apparently others did too.

He would teach her
otherwise.

"Turn over, Lady Isobel."

"Aha!” The Baron chuckled, hitching
forward to the edge of his seat. "He means to take his first thrust
betwixt my lady's cheeky pillows."

The woman on the bed rolled over and
Alonso took each of her wrists, tying them to the carved headboard.
When she felt the ribbons tightened he heard a small questioning
sound and her breathing quickened.

"I must have you relinquish all
control to me, Lady Isobel," he explained, tugging on the ribbons
to be sure they were secure. "You are in my hands. Completely.
Utterly. Now you must trust me."

Slowly he untied her long braid,
letting her glorious hair fall free down her back. Then he took a
horse-hair stuffed bolster and slid it under her hips, pushing her
lovely bottom high.

"Legs apart, Lady Isobel, so that your
husband can see his property." To drain her of all that haughty
pride tonight she would be allowed to keep nothing hidden. She must
be undone thoroughly, before he could put her back together again
as a woman who knew how to enjoy herself. A woman who had learned
to trust him.

"Excellent angle, d'Anzeray," the
Baron exclaimed. "I have a good view of her quinny and her proud
little bottom. You must take them both tonight. I think I see her
blossoming already, yet she does not know what you mean to do with
her. Splendid!"

Alonso shrugged out of his robe and
wrapped the end of the leather belt around his fist. "First she
needs a spanking, my Lord Louvet."

He saw the woman tense, pulling on her
ribbons until they were taut. But they were strong. Of that he'd
made certain. Although he'd left her legs untied he now had second
thoughts, for she was capable of kicking like a rabbit, as he knew
already. He passed his leftover ribbon to the Baron and asked him
to tie her right ankle to the bedpost nearest his chair. With one
leg secured she could not wriggle away and he could deal well
enough with one kicking foot.

"Did I just hear you curse into the
mattress, my lady?"

She bristled with indignation. Already
a little perspiration shone in the small of her back, and there
were goose bumps along her arms. Whatever she'd expected tonight,
this was not it.

Alonso smirked. "Good. For the more
you curse and defy me and call me names, the more punishment you
will get. Are we clear?"

He sincerely hoped she would bite her
tongue and behave because he wanted to begin fucking her soon. The
smooth, high orbs of her tight bottom lured him in and the soft,
blushing pink of her cunt competed with a siren's song of its
own.

Her husband sat back, sipping his
wine, eyes intent upon the scene, lips turned up in a lecherous
grin.

"Now, Lady Isobel, for calling me a
barbarian today..." Alonso swung the belt, and it cracked hard
across her cheeks. Her arse bounced, and she squealed.

Watching her reaction his shaft lifted
and thickened.

"For calling me a fool." He smacked
her again and this time he knew she did indeed curse, although she
tried to smother it in the bed. Her husband chuckled and shouted
words of encouragement, but Alonso barely heard him now. His eyes
were fastened on her pinkened arse and the first sight of dew on
the rosy lips of her cunny.

His arm swung the belt
again and he could have sworn she raised her arse to meet the lash
of the leather. "For calling me insolent...."
crack
, "and creature..."
crack
, "and bastard son
of a whore!"

"Look how her cheeky pillows glow like
bashful maidens!" the Baron exclaimed. "Again, d'Anzeray. Spank the
wench as she deserves."

Alonso regarded her twitching bottom,
knew she was waiting expectantly. He left her waiting while he
strode around the bed, his cock arching to his navel now. Only when
she was still and apparently trying to see where he'd gone, did he
lash her trembling cheeks again with the belt. She yelped in
surprise.

Another lash and then another quickly
followed while her arms strained against their ribbons.

"You will not go out riding tomorrow,
Lady Isobel," he growled, kneeling on the bed. "Your arse will
sting too much."

"You bastard," she hissed. "There, now
do it again! See if I care."

"Oh, you will care tomorrow when you
cannot sit on this fine derriere." Alonso leaned down and licked
her quivering, heated arse cheeks. He drew the red skin into his
mouth and sucked. "Such a sweet taste, my lady." He let his tongue
slip into her crack and touch her anus. Her heard her whimpering,
felt her buttocks clenching, trying to keep him out, so he dropped
his belt and used his hands to part her cheeks, then he resumed his
licking and tickling of her most private places while her husband
looked on.

* * * *

Isobel's first thought was that she
would never forgive him for this. She would hate him forever.
Loathe him. But as the last lash fell against her bottom a new
sensation overtook her anger and humiliation. She was afire with
it—and not just where her skin smarted from the crack of leather.
It spread within like a forest fire catching on dry leaves,
whispering and spitting.

When he knelt beside her and his wet
tongue passed over that same tormented flesh she felt relief, and
when he sucked on that skin it was a moment of vivid pain again,
followed by more relief. Splendid, soothing respite. And heightened
sensitivity, so raw that she was glad to be face down on the bed,
her countenance and her blushes hidden. As he laved her arse-hole
with his forceful tongue, his rough hands holding her buttocks wide
apart, she felt the shreds of dignity torn away from her and with
it went everything else to which she'd clung. She could not believe
he would do such a thing—that anyone ever would, but there was no
hesitation in the steady motion of his naughty tongue.

She had expected to hate this from
him.

However, much to her distress, her
pussy began to feel neglected.

Isobel squirmed, trying to lift
herself from the bolster upon which he'd propped her lower body.
She kicked with her free leg. All was in vain. She was rendered
powerless.

"Have patience, Lady Isobel," he
muttered huskily. "I'll be there soon enough." He blew gently on
her labia. "I'll be in there, filling you up, nice and tight." His
words shivered through her like wind through the trees, and she
muffled her wanton cries in the bed.

He held her down with his hard hands
and focused all his attention on her bottom and her anus. He
tormented her deliberately, of course, and her husband chuckled to
see her frustrated twitching.

At last, d'Anzeray moved into position
between her legs and his hard cock tapped her arse
cheek.

She heard her husband pouring more
wine, then scuffing his chair along the floor for a better view. "I
daresay she'll scream when you get that magnificent cock of yours
all the way in her, eh, d'Anzeray?"

"Oh, I think this lady will purr, my
lord."

His fingers were on her pussy now,
prying her lips open. Isobel held her breath, but he whispered at
her to relax.

"Be at ease. Don't tense."

She groaned, tugging again on her tied
ribbons, yearning to turn over.

Then came his cockhead. It was broad,
about the size of a plum. She gasped.

"Ram her, d'Anzeray! Why do you wait?
Ram her!" The Baron banged his fist on the bed for
emphasis.

But the warrior did not force himself
in. He played with her, tapping his crest on her labia, rubbing his
shaft and balls up and down in the crack of her smoldering arse,
letting her feel the length and thickness she was getting. He
leaned over her back and whispered into her hair. "Breathe, my
lady. Breathe deeply. Let you body fall open. Give yourself up to
me. Trust me." His lips brushed her hair as he whispered, and it
was the closest thing to a kiss that he could give her under the
Baron's rules. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, felt
herself falling into the bed.