Page 3 of The Taking of House Westwood

The Mistress’ firm grip in Ryndra’s hair twisted slightly. Pain seared her scalp, and she planted her lips against the Mistress’ soft wetness to muffle her yelp.

“That won’t do, Andrus. The judicial sentences are at most six weeks. I’m not interested in seeing a girl taken from me just as I get her training up to satisfactory levels.”

“What then, my dear?”

Ryndra watched the Mistress’ finger point at the swollen clit. Ryndra attacked the hard nodule with her tongue, hope stealing into her heart that this ordeal at least, was close to the end.

Her Mistress hissed, bucking her sex repeatedly against Ryndra’s tongue. She took a tight grip of Ryndra’s long hair once more and rubbed her face all over the drenched flesh of her cunt. Ryndra’s hands fluttered in their bounds at the small of her back. She hated being bound that way when servicing her demanding Mistress. It was as if the sadistic woman was using Ryndra’s face to masturbate her cunt.

Finally, with a long, breathy moan, the Mistress came, soaking Ryndra’s lips and tongue with her juices. The Mistress kept Ryndra’s face pressed against her sex for several long moments, her nose painfully mashed against the hard pubic bone. She inhaled heavily, the spicy scent of her Mistress’ pussy permeating everything. She knew she’d go to sleep in her miserable bunk that night with the smell of her Mistress’ juices on her lips and cheeks; she was typically forbidden from washing her Mistress’ exudations from her face following a servicing.

The Mistress pushed her away, covering her sex with her dress. The fingers snapped, and Ryndra crawled out from under the table to kneel next to the woman’s chair. A finger lifted her chin, and she looked up into the glittering eyes of her tormentor.

“I’ll miss you, little girl. Serve your Captain and your Lord well.”

Ryndra was dismissed with a push against her cheek. She tried to ignore her nakedness as she rose from her knees, her gaze on the floor. She had to get out of the room. Safety lay in being away from the cruel woman as soon as possible. But it was not be. The Lord’s voice stopped her just as she made it to the doorway leading to the kitchens.

“Wait there, girl.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

She froze, not sure if she was to turn around. She stayed where she was, the feel of their assessing regard of her naked buttocks less mortifying than having to turn her bare sex to them.

“So, what will you do my dear Miriam?”

Ryndra felt goose-flesh rise on her arms. An edge had crept into her Lord’s voice, something she’d rarely ever heard.

“I’ve a few ideas. It’s not important — I’ll manage.”

“Tell me.”

Ryndra felt like a toy that had been left in the middle of a floor, waiting for someone to trip over it. She wanted to flee the room more than anything, but training — and fear — kept her planted to her spot.

Don’t move and perhaps you’ll be dismissed. Please.

“Come here, girl.” Her heart sank, but she dutifully responded, moving to stand next to her Lord’s chair. He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering a moment on the dark blonde curls between her thighs. She felt the humiliating blush spread across her chest and neck.

“Leave him alone, Miriam. I’m warning you.”

Her Mistress, color showing in her cheeks, glared at Lord Andrus. “What are you talking about? Leave whom alone?

Her Lord’s hand clasped Ryndra’s hip, startling her. “You know who I speak of. Don’t defy me in this, Miriam.”

The Mistress looked away, peevishly picking at a cloth napkin. “Don’t be ridiculous, Andrus. I’ve no such plans.”

“What are you hiding? What happened that makes you shy away from this? From me?”

The Mistress slid her chair back, and stood up.

“Sit down.” Her Lord’s voice was deceptively quiet. His hand gripped her hip tighter, his thumb rubbing small circles on her buttock.

The Mistress flashed a cold look at the Lord, and returned to her seat, her cheeks coloring further.

Andrus leaned forward, laying a hand on the table. “When I return, we’re going to sort this out. I will not have my own wife keeping confidences from me. Not ever.”

Ryndra never heard a response, for her Lord, his hand clamped to her upper arm, led her briskly from the room.

Chapter Two

Andrus leaned back against the oak headboard of his bed, his arms outstretched to either side. The enchanting scullery maid, Ryndra, her hands still bound behind her, knelt on the bed between his spread legs. He approved of Captain Lawrence’s choice of companion for their upcoming journey to the Frontier. The blonde girl was pretty, attractively proportioned, and seemed eager to please. More, she seemed to genuinely like him, rather than viewing her service as a trial. It mattered not, really, but he was not one to derive a sexual thrill in forcing the unwilling. Unlike his wife.

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