Page 27 of Crowning of the Sword

She glanced up at him, her heart breaking a little with the words, ‘my darling’.

“Do you mean it?”

He shrugged. “I said so, didn’t I?”

He held out his hands to her, and she moved forward to him. She didn’t show any hesitancy. She was aware she had to play along for the sake of her own survival. He could banish her to a dungeon if he wanted to, he could have her beaten, he could reduce her to a lump of charred smoking meat. She was afraid, but she was even more afraid to show him her fear. And so, she smiled and took his hands and allowed him to draw her into his arms.

He brushed his lips across her forehead, and then held out something to her, a gold and diamond necklace with a shadow of black leather beneath. “You took it off.”

“I …” she didn’t know what to say. The sight of it made her feel cold all over again. If she said it fell off, would he know she was lying? “It felt too tight. And I was cross.”

He stroked a link, and it divided into two, making the necklace a little longer. “Will you wear it for me now?”

What could she say? “Of course.”

He kissed her on the lips, and a warm glow rapidly replaced the chill. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, and he kissed her properly, his hands sliding down her back to grasp her buttocks, pulling her closer. The intoxicating scent of spice intensified, making her head swim. She melted against him, kissing him back with increasing abandon. He broke the kiss, and while she struggled to regain her senses, put the necklace around her throat and fastened it. It felt right. She touched it, liking the way it settled across her collarbone, cooling against her heated skin.

“Now, Ember,” he said, and tugged at the tie fastening her robe, drawing one shoulder of her robe to the side, and then the other. It slipped off and puddled on the floor, leaving her standing naked in front of him. “We have to talk about something.”

“What?” she said. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted him to touch her. All she could think about was his hands, his mouth, and his…

He crossed over to the chest and flicked open the catch. The lid flew open. She craned to see, but it was too dark to discern anything inside. He reached in and brought out two long ribbons, glistening smooth as silk in the dim light.

“Lessons must be learned.”

Her mouth sagged, and she took a step back. “What’s that?”

He moved to her, looping a ribbon around first one wrist, and then the other. She tried to pull away, but he crooked a finger, and the ribbons came to life, tugging her to the bed, as if she were a dog on a leash.

“Lie down.”

She demurred, shaking her head, and he slid a hand behind her head, into her mass of wet hair and pulled it. Hard. “Lie down.”

Without a word, she sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her legs up beside her. Her scalp was tingling with pain, but already her nipples were hard and aching, a familiar molten excitement building deep inside. The arousal he had forced from her earlier washed over her again, and she was both eager and apprehensive. There was no tenderness in his mood. His expression was like granite, his thick cock firmly outlined against the silk of his pants.

He dragged her up the bed, forcing her onto her belly, and the ribbons tied themselves to the posts of the bed. She tugged against them, but the ribbons resisted, the knots drawing ever tighter. He strolled to the chest, retrieving two more.

“Spread your legs.”

She did so, wondering if he could see the glistening wanting between her folds. The ribbons rippled through the air, swooping down to lash her ankles to the bottom posts of the bed.

His gaze made her feel exposed, embarrassed. “Cole,” she began, and then his broad hand connected with her bottom.

The sting from the sharp smack came a second after the crack of sound reverberated throughout the room, and she sucked in an outraged breath, and reared up, pulling against the silk ribbons.

“Be quiet. Lie still.”

He struck her again and again. She wriggled and squirmed, trying to escape his hand, but it was impossible. Her buttocks felt as though they were on fire. His hand came down again, a stinging slap, even more forceful than the rest, and she cried out.

“I told you to be quiet.”

She felt him move away, and turning her head, watched him walk to the chest and dip inside. Another ribbon, this one thick and short, came to her, whipping itself around her face, covering her mouth and tying at the back of her head, smothering all sound.

When he drew out a short-handled whip with tasselled ends, a wave of fear came over her and she yanked at the ribbons, desperate to free herself.

“Your skin glows red, like a cherry,” he observed, tapping the whip against his thigh. He sank onto the bed, and she flinched, but he merely smoothed his hand against her bruised flesh, leaning down to kiss first one cheek and the other. “It feels hot.” He moved further down and then his hands were spreading her swollen labia, his tongue darting inside.

The pain immediately turned to pleasure, and she moaned, trying to spread her legs wider, her hips rising from the bed. He licked and suckled on her clit and then he spread her buttocks and lapped at her puckered hole, eliciting gasps and moans.

---