Purebred (7 page)

Carefully he began inching his cock
inside her pussy. His knees were between hers, his body arched over
her back, his hands flat to the bed on either side of her
shoulders.

Meanwhile the Baron grew impatient.
"Faster, man! Fuck her! Fuck her hard. Rough. Or I'll get another
man to do it for me."

Suddenly he thrust and Isobel felt
sharp pain. It flared under her eyelids—a brilliant silver flash.
She cried out and so, to her surprise, did he. Now she felt his
cock throbbing within her, stretching her narrow, newly breached
sheath. Gasping for breath, she opened her eyes.

Had she just heard a whispered apology
from the man who broke her maidenhead? Isobel couldn't be sure. It
seemed so unlikely that Alonso d'Anzeray, "Blackheart" would
apologize for hurting her, that she could not believe her own
ears.

"I'm warning you, d'Anzeray...ride her
hard and deep, or I'll find someone to do it the way I want it
done."

In the next moment her husband was
satisfied as Alonso began to move, thrusting his battering ram with
speed. Isobel cried out as he fucked her virgin cunny. His cock
felt enormous, filling her just as he'd promised. And then some.
Her pussy struggled to take all of it, and her body bounced limply
under him.

But the worst of the pain had passed
in one breathless, blinding flash and her moans and gasps after
that were those of strange, wild pleasure. Oh, Jeanne's timid
little tongue could not do this to her. This...this was raw and
merciless. Her darkest, most forbidden fantasies had come to
life.

While he speared her pussy with his
cock he began forcing a finger into her anus. Barely had her tight
alley managed to accept that intrusion than he added a second
finger, stretching her, claiming her. She wanted to scream but
would not give the Baron his satisfaction. Instead she trembled and
bucked under the hired mercenary stud as she felt the discomfort of
that added penetration, but she could not get away and the more she
lifted her hips and wriggled, the deeper he forced himself into
both holes. The savage coupling had soon drained her of speech or
protest and she could only pant for breath as her body was
debased.

Her husband applauded, almost knocking
over his wine jug. "Excellent, excellent. Go to it, d'Anzeray!" His
voice was slurred already, she noted. Good. Her greatest fear had
been that he might want to join in, but it seemed not. He was
content to watch another man do his job. It was the same in bed as
it was on the battlefield, it seemed.

Alonso worked his lower body with a
steady, fast rhythm, his big cock pushing deep, his grunts pressed
into her hair, his fingers spearing her backside. She writhed and
arched under him, her nipples rubbing on the bed.

"I'm coming, my lady," he sputtered,
his hot breath on her shoulder, and instantly she felt the warmth
of his seed gushing into her body.

The first possession was complete.
Lady Isobel was serviced.

Chapter Five

The Baron inspected the bloody fleece
that lay under his wife and then he nodded. "You have done a good
job, d'Anzeray. She is well broken in."

While the man stood over the bed,
sipping his wine, Alonso fetched the washbowl to rinse her off. But
the Baron held his arm for a moment, making him wait while he
enjoyed the sight of thick semen oozing from the lady's vagina. He
held her free ankle and moved her leg, stretching her wider while
he observed the trickle of cum from her pink nether lips, marveling
aloud at the rich quantity that dripped to the bed.

Eventually he stood aside and allowed
Alonso to wash her.

The Baron clearly had no interest in
his wife's comfort, for he turned away and hummed a tune to
himself, opening the shutters to look out at the dark, rain-washed
yard. Taking advantage of the man's inattention, Alonso treated her
sex tenderly with the wash rag and whispered that he hoped he had
not hurt her too much.

She turned her face, long strands of
dark hair falling across her cheek. Her pale jade eyes were wide
and sparking with fury. That was answer enough.

"You did not climax?" he whispered,
frowning.

A quick, hard laugh spat out of her.
He did not know what that meant and he could not ask further, for
Louvet returned to his chair and commanded another round. "In case
the first did not take."

Alonso was not, by any means,
reluctant to go again, but he knew she would already be sore come
the morning. So he delayed as best he could, untying her ankle,
turning her over and then bathing her cunt with his tongue, hoping
to soothe it somewhat after the roughness with which he'd claimed
it before. This time he'd make damn certain the woman
climaxed.

Fortunately, when he was sixteen, a
whore hired by his father had taught Alonso all he need know about
pleasuring a woman. Now he set to work between Isobel's thighs and
as he diddled her sensitive pearl with his tongue he soon heard
those familiar moans. She was clearly reluctant to admit she got
any enjoyment out of this, but he felt, heard, and tasted it. Her
honeyed cream coated his tongue as he thrust it between her labia
and when he unfurled its full length inside her twat he tasted her
essence mingling with his seed. He slid his hands under her
buttocks and lifted her to his mouth, sucking and licking until he
had chased her up at least two steep inclines to rocky
peaks.

By then his prick was hard again and
the Baron restless behind him.

Alonso did not like the
way the old fool kept threatening to bring someone else in to
service his wife. This was
his
mission and he would see it through. No d'Anzeray
ever failed to achieve victory. In this case, there was no way in
hell he would let another man chosen by Louvet take his
place.

"Here I come again, Lady Isobel," he
growled, shifting forward to lick her nipples, his erection once
again pressed to her wet cunny. "Can you take me here once more?"
Not that she had any choice. Her husband wanted another mating and
he would get one.

Since her wrists were still tied to
the carved headboard, when he turned her over it crossed her arms
over her head. This must not be very comfortable, but there was no
sign of pain in her face. Her lips parted, full and damp. Those
rich green eyes watched from beneath half-lowered black lashes, and
he read something new there, looking out at him. He could not yet
decide what it might be, but he would find out.

He slid farther forward, easing his
way inside her tight cunt. It felt too good, much too good. As a
man who never had trouble finding pussy, Alonso had not expected
this event to pull on him in so many strange ways. It was not the
first time he'd fucked another man's wife either, but the woman in
this instance was very unusual.

He thighs moved against his flanks and
then her legs were wrapped around him, her heels crossed behind his
back. She was eager then, despite the sparks in her eyes and the
scorn with which she treated him. Her sheath squeezed around his
cock, pulling him deeper.

Alonso began the slick pumping in and
out, her legs climbing up his back as she moved in unison this
time, learning—it seemed—as this ravaging continued.

They were both sweating, their bodies
slippery one moment and sticking together in the next. His balls
rubbed against her, spanked her with every forward thrust and her
breasts jostled, her nipples poking his chest.

* * * *

Isobel was melting. The heat conjured
by this blissful friction was too much to bear. She gritted her
teeth to keep from crying out her pleasure as this wicked man—the
one she was so determined to despise— had his way with her
again.

She was bitterly ashamed of herself,
but what could she do?

Her crossed arms ached and the ribbons
cut into her wrists, but every other part of her body, sore or not,
was wet, hot, consumed with desire. The beat of her heart was out
of control, fluttering hard in her breast. Long strands of hair
stuck to her perspiring brow and the side of her neck.

With each forceful thrust, Alonso
d'Anzeray impaled her on his thick manhood and she felt as if it
hit her womb. He would impregnate her. There was no doubt in her
mind.

Isobel knew she wanted a child. A babe
of her own, something to love that would love her in return and
ease the loneliness in her heart.

But it would be
his
child. The child of
this rapacious mercenary. It would bear his looks as well as hers.
She did not know how she felt about that.

Still, the thought of bearing a child
of Louvet's was disgusting to her. She wondered suddenly whether
d'Anzeray was right that day when he suggested she fasted so often
to keep herself unattractive to her husband. It had not occurred to
her before, but she was not the sort to consider her actions
deeply. She'd never felt as if she had much control over her own
life, therefore she simply existed for the will of
others.

Perhaps she had unknowingly fought for
some control after all.

Alonso pinched her nipple in his
fingers and she yelped. "Do you like that, my lady?" he
growled.

She clamped her lips tight, refusing
to answer.

He did it again, harder, pulling on
her nipple until it was dark and distended. A jolt like lightning
buzzed through her, directly to her pussy, and he must have felt it
on his cock for he exhaled a satisfied grunt. She groaned, betrayed
again by her body, and he grinned smugly down at her.

"Next time I'll bring something
special for your titties. Something we can all enjoy."

He tweaked both of them
now between his long fingers, tugging on those sensitive peaks
until she wanted to scream. Next time, oh yes,
yes!
There would be a next time. She
hoped the excitement and joy did not show upon her face.

"You had better confess that you like
me fucking you, my lady."

She shook her head back and forth
against the bed.

Alonso lowered his mouth to her breast
and slowly licked each areola, pausing to mutter, "I wonder which
titty is most afire? Which titty is the most eager? The one that
will betray my lady for the naughty, wanton hussy she truly
is."

She arched her spine, breathing hard,
swallowing the urge to laugh. After staring down at her for a few
moments, he bent his head, grunted fiercely and took the pointy
nipple of her right breast between his lips. And sucked.

Isobel came so violently she stopped
breathing for a moment.

As her body keened under him, her
pussy working his cock with a maddened, shuddering contraction,
d'Anzeray chuckled breathlessly. "Seems I guessed correctly. Right
titty it is."

Suddenly, Louvet was out of his chair
and at the side of the bed. He slapped Isobel hard across her face.
"You're not supposed to enjoy this, slut," he hissed drunkenly.
"You will get no pleasure from this, whore. If you do so then you
have committed adultery and I'll have you pilloried."

He must have seen something in her
face, she realized. From then on she lay still, her eyes staring up
at the ceiling, her face stinging not only from his slap but from
shame and confusion.

Once again she felt the warm flow of
the mercenary's seed shot deep into her body and suddenly she
wanted to weep.

Isobel had not cried for years and she
refused to start again now, so she smothered it and blinked back
her tears.

When it was over, d'Anzeray left the
bed and turned away to wash himself in the bowl. His shoulders were
stiff, his manner angry. She'd seen the look he gave her husband
after the slap, but she hoped he would not feel it necessary to say
anything. If Louvet was questioned or annoyed in any way he would
not allow another night like this.

"Get dressed and go back to your
chamber," the Baron snapped at her, his eyes glazed with drink.
Apparently he had ceased to enjoy the entertainment at some
point.

She pulled on her shift and cloak.
Sore and beset with a rush of strange emotions, Isobel stumbled
back to her own bed, escorted by the same silent young
page.

Jeanne was there waiting for her,
anxiously wringing her hands. "Oh, my lady, you were gone so
long!"

"Do not fuss, Jeanne."

"He has hurt you!"

"Yes...no...I do not know what he has
done to me, but I—" As she cast her eyes around the familiar
chamber, she found the surprise addition of a large platter piled
high with cheeses, meat pie, plums, cherries, and custard tarts.
There was also a flagon of sweet wine. "Where did that come
from?"

"It arrived here just after you left,
my lady."

"I did not ask for it."

"No, my lady. It was sent here for
you. From the Blackheart."

She stared, nonplussed. Why would he
send this small feast to her? What a strange man he was.

Even stranger —she was, for the first
time in many months, extremely hungry. Starving, in
fact.