Page 39 of Wicked Games

At that moment, I truly meant it. I didn’t know what was real or not, I only knew that I was afraid.

Richard turned back to me. Studying me with those dark, fathomless eyes of his.

“Unbutton your bodice.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Unbutton your bodice.”

“Please, I?—”

Placing his booted feet on either side of my legs, he placed the leather tongue of the riding crop under my chin and forced my head back. “Don’t make me hurt you more than I already will,” he warned softly. With that he stroked my jaw and cheek with the leather flap, his threat unmistakable. With one flick of that crop he could scar my face for life.

Without lowering my gaze, I reached for the fabric-covered buttons of my bodice. With shaking fingers, I fumbled with each one. After an eternity, the bodice gaped open, exposing the curved tops of my breasts.

Letting the riding crop dangle from his wrist, Richard leaned over me. Grasping the shoulders of my bodice, he forced the sleeves down over my arms till they tightened at the forearm. Since I had only unbuttoned half of them, the bodice was still clasped around my waist securing my arms as tightly as if it were a straitjacket. The downward movement had also shifted my corset down only slightly but just enough to expose the pink flesh of my nipples.

With shaking breath, I watched as he slowly undid his cravat. Stretching the long, thin linen strip between his fists, he circled around the sofa till he was standing over me from behind. My breath was coming in such fast gasps I felt faint.

His arms appeared on either side of my head, holding the linen strip in front of me.

Was he about to blindfold me?

Before I could decide if that was a good or bad thing, I felt the press of the linen against my throat. Immediately I tried to spring up from my seat but couldn’t. The linen tightened, cutting off my air. I tried to scream but nothing came out. Desperately I pulled at my arms but they were hopelessly tangled in the tight sleeves of the bodice.

The linen tightened around my throat. My mouth gaped on a silent scream as my head pressed against the wrought iron sofa back trying to ease the tension of the fabric. Then some of the pressure on my throat eased but did not fully let up. I tried to move away but couldn’t.

Richard once more appeared before me.

He had secured his cravat around my throat and through the intricate lattice of the wrought iron sofa behind my head. I was now completely tied down and at his mercy. Worse, my struggles had forced my corset to shift even lower, now fully exposing my erect nipples.

“As your guardian, it is my duty to punish you as I feel fit.”

Grasping the riding crop once more, he raised his arm.

My eyes widened in alarm. “No!” My scream coming out only as a weak croak.

The riding crop came down with full force on my right nipple. The shooting pain was agony. Worse than anything I had ever felt before. It seemed to radiate in waves over my entire body. Before I could recover, he struck my other nipple.

“Please! Stop!” I sobbed as I tried to curl my shoulders forward in a vain attempt to shield my vulnerable flesh from his punishment.

Richard’s response was to once more strike my right nipple with the leather tongue of the riding crop then swiftly strike the left.

My breasts throbbed with pain. Straining to look down, I was shocked to see I wasn’t bleeding for I was certain he had torn my skin to shreds.

Kicking a small ottoman over to me, he sat down. He was now almost level with me. Without taking his eyes off me, he slowly started to grab fistfuls of my dress and raise it up. Inch by inch, he was exposing more of my body to his gaze. First my calves, then the tops of my thighs. Running his palm down my leg, he placed his fingers around my ankle and lifted it high, placing my booted heel on the edge of the sofa. He did the same with my other ankle.

It was an uncomfortable position that forced my hips forward and spread my legs painfully wide. Finally, he flipped my skirts up around my waist, completely revealing the large slit in my pantalets.

I gasped as I felt his fingers on my pussy. Miserable, I shook my head side to side as far as the cravat around my throat would allow. Not again. No. I didn’t want him to force my body to betray me. It was humiliating the way it responded to his painful touch and punishments. I knew without even seeing his raised eyebrow that he would find me wet and ready for his touch.

Slowly he penetrated me with one finger, then another. He thrust them in and out several times while his thumb swept over my clit, stimulating the small bundle of nerves. Then he slipped in a third finger. It started to feel tight and full, my body stretching to accommodate him. I could feel his fingers twist as he shifted his hand, palm upright. He then pushed a fourth finger inside of me.

“Please! That hurts!”

“It’s supposed to hurt,” was his curt reply.

I bit my lip as he stretched my body beyond its limits. Still he continued to rub his thumb in slow, rhythmic circles. I could feel the pressure of a traitorous release as it began to build. After several pulsating thrusts, his fingers left my body. I let out a breath of relief but it was short-lived.

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