Leah's Punishment Page 5

  Still holding the end of the rope, she went to her horse and took an object from the saddlebag. It was smooth and cylindrical. 'I had it fashioned of soapstone, of a sort denser than the norm, and of a girth between a man's and a horse's.' Then Ean saw what it was. Lady Lauren carefully deposited it in the chill water at the edge of the pool. 'Now – over here with you.' She drew Ean by his tethered wrist to an old, low-branched tree, stopping at a place where a fallen log lay immediately beneath one of the horizontal branches. She made him step over the log and then turned him to face the pool. In a moment she was standing on the log, tying his left wrist up to the branch then using the excess rope to tie the other wrist similarly. Ean made no move to resist, no verbal protest. He was under the spell of those sensual kisses, the like of which he had never experienced before.

  A peculiar yet intensely pleasurable feeling pervaded his being as he watched this beautiful sexual creature freely working upon him with such purpose while he remained so tamely submissive to her whims. His mistress plainly understood the effect of what she was doing. 'Good boy,' she murmured, gripping his shackled wrists while she kissed his ear lobe and blew softly into his ear, making him shudder until his erection hurt. 'Good boy . . .' He felt her excitement too as she began unbuttoning his tunic and shirt. Her lips caressed his neck as she fumbled with the buttons of her own tunic top, then wrenched it open to the waist-belt.

  He gasped as her pert hot breasts with cold little nipples pressed against his chest and she clung to him and bit his neck – bit hard, with a sucking bite that went on and on. She reached down to try to free his penis but could not without breaking breast contact, which she seemed not to want to do, so she squeezed the glans mercilessly through his clothing until he could feel the warm wetness leaking. Then she shivered as though a small paroxysm of pleasure had moved through her body. When she drew back there was a smear of blood on her lips, so intense had been her kissing. He glanced down to where her neckline plunged to the opening of her tunic but the two flaps had almost come together again, concealing her breasts. All that remained in the tantalising gap beneath was a delicious glimpse of an ivory-smooth swell of belly and a peep of perfectly oval umbilicus.

  'Your gaze is very forward, young man.' Lauren smiled, stepped down from the log and stared at his midriff. 'And your demeanour is brazen. Let us see if this brazenness stands the test.' She began to unbuckle his breeches. Ean's gaze lifted skyward from self-conscious shame as the cool air bathed his exposed loins. He felt his breeches being dragged to his knees and the flaps of his shirt being drawn up and tied through the restraints at his wrists. Lauren had climbed back on to the log and, as she did the tying, his erection brushed her tightly leather-clad upper thigh. When she moved across to tie the other flap, his naked penis briefly rolled against the delicious cool tightness of those leather-clad thighs and slipped into the gap between them. She evidently felt its sudden pulse, for she immediately stopped and, opening her tunic, slid her arms around his back, her hands under his shirt, her fingertips lightly exploring his shoulderblades, even as her upper arms squeezed him captive and those cold, lovely nipples pressed into his bare chest again and the cool pressure of her smoothly clad thighs slowly increased around the hot shaft of his penis.

  Then she kissed him, with a long slow sucking biting of his lower lip as she held him tight, unmoving now, apart from that sucking and the steadily strengthening pulses she provoked in his penis. He could feel them coming from deeper and deeper within, like a swelling ache that seemed to burgeon low down against his backbone. He knew that, if she were to move against him, the pleasure would surely come and, so nakedly pressed against her, so clamped between her tight thighs, he would never be able to control its emission, which would surely besmirch the shiny leather. He closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth. Then suddenly the contact was broken; her fingers and arms slid away; he felt cool air all around him and, when he opened his eyes, Lauren was standing on the ground just watching him. She smiled as the tremors in his erection slowly diminished. He knew then that his mistress would be merciless in the way that she administered pleasure.

  With mounting sexual apprehension and a delicious dryness in his throat he watched her turn and walk calmly to the pool, then retrieve the dripping instrument and return to him. She paused, her fingertips running repeatedly over the rounded tip then testing the smoothness of the shaft, then clasping it, barely able to encircle it at its widest girth. 'It's cold, Ean, very cold now – just right.' He felt the muscles of his abdomen tighten involuntarily, causing his erection to pulse. Smiling again, Lauren slowly dribbled spittle round the crown of the soapstone instrument. Then she stepped over the log and stood behind him. Ean held his breath. Though she was his mistress, he might have cried out for her to desist; he might have struggled against his bonds; he might have kicked back at her. He did none of these things: his mouth opened for a timid cry that never came; and still he did not dare to breathe.

  The smooth slippery crown of the soapstone phallus nosed between his buttock cheeks. Simultaneously he felt his mistress's slim cool hand reaching round but not touching his penis, instead taking hold of the sac, her finger and thumb gripping one of the highly sensitive fleshy balls within and slowly increasing the pressure as the slippery head of the phallus mated to the tight funnel of flesh in his bottom. She pushed and pushed, until Ean gasped and the funnel-muscle yielded to the will of his mistress, yielded girth until he felt that he would split, and the dense cold smooth object slid and slid inside his body – such coldness and such an intense thrill as he had never experienced. His mistress murmured: 'There . . . Do not stint, now. Take it all.' Her cool, soft lips dabbed little kisses upon his back. 'I can feel your special tightness in the shaft I have implanted; it will not lift or move sideways; it knows only one direction . . . up and in . . .,' she whispered, pushing again, still squeezing excruciating pleasure-pain into the fleshy ball trapped between her finger and thumb, until the cold smooth sliding sensation came again, ever deeper, distending him, seemingly relentlessly swelling inside him. He shuddered as the widest girth of the phallus began to slide very slowly against the seminal gland buried within him, exerting pressure on a gland already swollen, overfull. 'There – think of Denni now, taking your flesh in this very manner – hard and full and deep inside her, stretching that lovely bottom, whilst you squeeze her little cunt-lips and make the pleasure ache.'

  Ean shuddered and moaned as the irresistible tightness squeezed the seminal gland in belly-wrenching pleasure-pulses against the smooth cold unyielding phallus. His ejaculate spurted, then poured. Only then did she release the pressure on the tortured ball in his sac and cup her hand to catch the emission. She stepped over the log, faced him and slowly slurped the fluid from her hand. Then she clambered up and kissed him, laving his tongue with his own semen, in a prolonged kiss, her lips sticking to his, her hand clasping his still-erect penis in a singular manner, at the very base, between her finger and thumb, which pushed hard down, stretching the skin of the wet shaft, putting tightness all around the sensitive head, causing a harshness of constriction yet extreme pleasure while the salt kiss continued.

  He felt deliciously overawed by her sexuality; she instilled anxiety and overwhelming desire. Most of all he wanted to see her nude and to touch her in the ways that she was touching him.

  The removal of the soapstone phallus was more torturing than its insertion. Lady Lauren's fingertips searched the sac beneath Ean's shaft and, finding the same tender swollen ball of flesh as before, gripped it tightly between thumb and finger, squeezing ever harder, and slowly forced the withdrawal against the muscle spasm. A deep throbbing pulse came in his penis and continued even after the withdrawal was completed. The mistress watched it in fascination. 'Will it come again, your semen? If it comes, I shall make you drink it, every drop.' The muscles of his abdomen cramped and Lauren smiled wickedly. She waited until she was sure no emission would come, then she said: 'Good – you are learning control. Thu
s far, you have done well, my groom. But it is time for our return.'

  His erection did not wane whilst Lauren was untying him. Afterwards, on horseback, it kept coming on hard each time he thought of her and what she had done – that wicked streak of causing pleasure laced with humiliation for him, without his ever being able to touch her. His desire for her now was all-consuming.

  Near the edge of the woods, his mistress halted, dismounted and led the horse to a small rise above a gap overlooking the ride down to the house. Ean quietly dismounted and followed her. She seemed pensive now, quite unlike her earlier self. He felt confident enough to venture gently: 'What is it, ma'am?'

  'Nothing, Ean.' Then she said: 'I hope Denni will be all right, don't you?'

  'That I do, ma'am. You are very kind.'

  She turned to face him and he saw her eyes were moist and she suddenly looked so forlorn that on impulse he moved forward to put his arms around her.

  'What are you doing?' She glared at him. 'Don't ever do that again!'

  'I . . . I'm very sorry ma'am.' He backed away like a beaten dog.

  Then just as swiftly her mood swung and she came to him and said very softly. 'Remember your place – that is all I ask – and all shall be well between us. I mean it, Ean: I hold you in the highest regard. But speak of our tryst to no one; in the house, show no sign that we have loved and kissed. Understood?'

  He nodded, his heart leaping at the words 'we have loved'.

  'But think of me – desire me – always. Just as I desire you . . .' So saying she stepped back, slid her hand down the front of her breeches and closed her eyes. Her nostrils dilated. Hypnotised, Ean watched his mistress's fingers writhing under the leather, listened with bated breath to the rhythm of her breathing, wanting so desperately to see her nude and to watch what her fingers were doing. Her eyes slowly opened. 'Kiss me,' she murmured. Shakily his arms encircled hers but did not attempt to grip. When his lips touched hers very lightly he felt her shudder and a near-gasp came against his mouth, then came a more powerful shudder and an open-mouthed groan, which deepened as Ean, encouraged now, slid his tongue inside her unresisting mouth. He held her limp body for a beautiful few seconds, fending off the temptation to lift and carry her. Then she drew back a little, withdrew her hand from her breeches and very slowly pushed two slick musky fingers into his mouth. 'Suck,' she whispered. 'Suck . . .' Afterwards she hungrily pressed her lips to his, to share in the delicious female musk that she had shed.

  The return journey was for Ean a turmoil of arousal and desire. He knew that he must never make any advance to his mistress but would have to await her call; already she seemed aloof. On arrival she handed him the reins of her horse without a word, then ignored him, sent for Kapler and went to her rooms. In a daze of uncertainty and rebuff, Ean retreated quietly to the servants' quarters, where all now seemed to have returned to normal following the upset of the dismissal. 'What news of Denni?' he asked the scullery maid belatedly and rather guiltily.

  She stared back reproachfully. 'Denni's gone. She was looking for you; she wanted to say goodbye but it seems you were off with her ladyship.'

  'I was obliged to do my mistress's bidding.'

  But the reproach was still there in her eyes, triggering a still keener reproach in Ean's unsettled heart.

  Lady Lauren stared across the room at her head groom. 'I understand Deneca has already departed.'

  'Yes, ma'am. I believe she left with good grace – without fuss.' Kapler looked up to see his mistress still staring at him.

  'Then you didn't attend to her departure personally?'

  'No, ma'am. The head chambermaid –'

  'But I asked you.'

  Irked, Kapler looked away, which only drew his mistress nearer. 'Do you think she took it, the necklace?'

  'It was in her box.'

  'But someone else might have put it there?'

  'Why should anyone want to do that? And she was the only one daily in your bedchamber.'

  'Surely not the only one, Kapler?'

  'My lady . . . ?' A slight smirk crossed his face before he managed to check it. He glanced at her, trying to judge her mood, then said: 'No, it was Denni, all right. She was a wilful girl.'

  'Exactly so – wilful . . . Perhaps especially so in the face of unwelcome advances?'

  'My lady, surely you are not suggesting –'

  'I know you well enough to guess. And I may choose to tolerate some things, provided there is no disruption to the smooth running of this household. But I do not care to have to furnish excuses to my husband. Do not jeopardise the very things you are privileged to enjoy.' Then her voice softened and, reaching, she touched his hand. 'What was it, Kapler? Were you jealous of my interest in her?'

  He shook his head without conviction. After a long pause, he said: 'Is that all, ma'am?'

  'No, Kapler, it is not. Through your machinations I am now denied a girl to assist with Ean's training. I don't want any more complications with our servants. I want simplicity, and I want you to arrange it. Now come here.'

  4

  The Initiation of the Groom

  Beautiful thoughts of desire and clinging caressed Leah's mind as she perched next afternoon in her customary place astride the bow of her master's boat. Merek's hands, strong but gentler now that the visiting merchant had gone, once more extended protectively round her belly from behind and held her in the way a lover should. All trace of jealousy had left him: she had lain with him that morning and ensured it.

  'My guest was pleased with you last night,' he whispered appreciatively. Leah turned and kissed him. 'Do you want to ride the tow-horse again?' he asked, stroking her hair.

  'Oh, please . . .' Leah nodded eagerly. Merek whistled once and the horse slowed almost to a halt.

  'I'll relieve Asgal at the tiller. He can help you.'

  Leah's smile faltered.

  'What is it?' Merek lifted her chin and studied her face.

  'I can manage by myself,' Leah whispered guiltily.

  For a long moment, he stared questioningly at her, for Asgal was a servant, not a guest, and there must be no transgression of that threshold. Then he smiled and nodded. 'Go on, then.' He lifted her down. 'Take care.'

  The boat had drifted closer to the bank but Leah still had to leap. Without stopping she got a high foothold on the heavy leather tracery round the horse's flanks and clambered quickly on to his back. She dug in her heels and the horse set off again, Leah waving proudly and her master still smiling.

  The horse was handsome – sturdy, steady and gentle. His back was broad and dappled black and brown. Leah opened herself to its warmth. His coarse hairs prickled inside her body, making shivers that felt good. She stretched her thighs until they ached, until the tightness came. She leant forward till her bared breasts lay against his back and, clinging to his head-collar and mane, inhaled his scent while the warmth of his sturdy body steadily seeped inside her. She closed her eyes, swaying upon this huge, warm, rippling, prickling, redolent living bed while the sunshine gently basted her naked lower back and tingling buttocks. And she fell asleep.

  She woke shivering. The boat was tied at a wharf and Asgal was unshackling the horse. There was no sign of Merek.

  'Shall milady dismount or shall she go with him to the stables?' Asgal asked coldly.

  'Where's master?' Leah asked anxiously, averting her gaze.

  'Why, "master" is here.' Asgal folded his arms and stared up at her with a wicked grin. 'Is milady's memory that short?' Leah's heart sank to the pit of her belly. She tried to cover her breasts from his loathsome gaze. 'Oh my – look at that . . .' He shook his head mockingly. 'Milady has acquired a rash. And what a rash – all down your front. Tut, tut . . .'

  Leah was in dismay: from her neck to her thighs, her skin was covered in dreadful, raised blood-red blotches. She started shivering uncontrollably. Asgal, less certain now, lifted her quaking body down. 'Calm yourself, girl.' He examined her then declared: 'It's just a reaction to the horsehair.
It should go away. But look – it's even marked your lips and cheek.' He smiled thinly.

  'Oh, no . . .'

  Two men emerged from the stables. 'What's up with her?'

  'Too intimate with the horse, I fear. See to him, would you?'

  The men laughed. 'Better see to her.'

  Though Leah hated Asgal, she let him carry her, clinging to him to avoid her blotches being seen by anyone. She did not realise what was in store.

  The mistress of the wharf-side lodge brokered the transaction, which was unusual in that the principal patron, though accompanied by two men, was female. It therefore seemed unnecessary to stipulate limits. The minder merely handed over the girl and skulked to the card table with his proper reward. The girl, overawed by the eyes now fixed upon her petite, half-naked body, looked to the lodge-mistress for reassurance that her master would soon arrive. But the lodge-mistress, perceiving the extent of the raised red blotching that besmirched the girl – disfigured her, even – fended off that naiïve supplication with narrow-eyed disdain. 'Your master is busy but has left clear instructions,' she lied. 'Attend them lest you come to regret it.'

  She directed the girl past the men to a quiet corner where the lady, her face still veiled, was ensconced. 'A bonny girl, a little headstrong perhaps, but my lady must understand that fever or wanton ill-practice may have rendered her unclean. Had I known in advance –'

  'No matter,' the lady said curtly, raising her veil with her gloved hand. She was significantly younger than the veil had implied; her blonde hair hung in soft, loose ringlets; her face was small; her eyes glittered as she assessed the girl.