Page 25 of Duke of Seduction

As Morgan whispered words of praise into her ear, Helena though the voice that left her lips was not her own. The voice belonged to a woman who had done this many times; a woman who already knew what was about to happen to her body and she hungered for it.

“That is my good girl,” Morgan whispered, turning her head so that he could kiss her lips roughly.

He then took a small step back, commanding Helena to once move forward. With one hand still wrapped in her hair, Morgan produced the long, thin, pencil-sized golden rod and held it before her eyes.

“You may tremble. You may writhe. But you may not move your feet from where they are planted. You may not jerk or pull away suddenly. I am the keeper of your flesh and your pleasure for this evening, and I instruct you to obey me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Helena whimpered, her eyes on the needle.

Beneath her excitement, she felt a tremor of worry pass through her. Even so, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to Morgan. She gasped, surprised at how soft yet biting the thin rod felt as he traced the tip of it down the back of her neck.

“Good,” Morgan murmured, his one fist still wound tightly in her hair as he watched her tremble.

He then shifted the wand into his hand like he would a pen and ran the sharpened point down the perfect line of her spine. Helena gasped at the strange pleasure; confused and aroused by the sensation roiling through her body. She sank further into Morgan’s hold as he pressed the tip of the rod first into the left dimple on her lower back, then into the right, and her knees nearly collapsed when he dragged the tip down her left buttock and thigh.

“Stay on your feet, little one,” Morgan scolded gently, chuckling in her ear. “Just a little longer, I promise.”

Helena was only able to whimper as she fisted her hands and pressed her feet more firmly into the floor, determined to stay upright. For the next several moments she trembled ceaselessly as Morgan dragged the rod teasingly along her hips, waist and breasts. She released his name from her lips with a strangled cry and flinched as the cold, golden tip was brushed across her nipple. It did not hurt, but the sensation set off a series of explosions along her skin, leaving a trail of flames in its wake.

She whimpered, then gasped as Morgan turned around and latched onto her injured nipple with his mouth. Helena’s eyes rolled upwards with ecstasy as his hot tongue lapped sensually over the small wound and she felt the pain recede instantly.

When he released her she turned herself towards him, hoping he would tend to her other breast, but he instead twisted her back around, once more controlling her with his grip in her hair, and brought the tip of the rod up the arch of her back. With a few twists of his fingers, he gathered her dark golden strands into a bun, and deftly stabbed the rod through the knot.

It was only a hair pin, not a torture device.

Morgan had simply teased her with it before putting it to its proper use. When he released her and brought her around to face him once more, it stayed in place, pinned so that the long waves were off the back of her neck.

“How badly did it hurt?” he asked, going to his knees.

He came eye level with her breasts and inspected her nipple closely.

“Not at all,” she breathed, struggling to focus as his fingers teasingly inspected her flesh.

“But the anticipation?” he asked, while circling his thumb around the hard bud.

Helena smiled in rapt amazement and shook her head.

“The anticipation was powerful,” she confessed, and Morgan laughed softly.

Helena shook her head quickly. She wantedmore.

“Continue with our lesson,” she pleaded, then after catching his stern brow, quickly added, “please, sir.”

Arousal flared in Morgan’s green eyes, and he gave her a nod of approval as he rose from his knees. He then pulled the spur from his pocket and ordered her to stand facing away from him once more.

“We shall have one more lesson in this practice before we move onto a more…impactfulone,” Morgan muttered against her ear.

Like the needle, he ran the sharpened five-point spur down the back of her neck, and a smile grew on Helena’s lips. It was very sharp and generated just a pinch of pain, but it also tickled. Or, perhaps, nipped? She was not sure, but she knew she liked it. This time Helena’s body moved with the utensil, lightly pressing herself into it wherever it roamed, and she let out a small, light laugh that turned into a moan as he rolled the spur down the path between her hip and pelvis.

“Your hips are incredibly sensitive,” Morgan murmured into her ear, retracing the path he had just taken with the spur.

A wave of bliss grew in her groin and sped through her nerve endings as Morgan retraced the spur’s path. Helena’s knees threatened to give out when he paused at the fold of her buttocks and pressed slightly harder.

A deep groan of pleasure left Morgan’s chest as he slipped the spur into his pocket, picked Helena up, and carried her to a nearby settee.

“Lay back against me, between my legs,” Morgan commanded hoarsely, already repositioning her to do so. “That is a good girl. Now, spread your legs. Hook each ankle onto the outside of my calves. Yes, just like that.”

“Morgan,” Helena breathed, feeling a flush flood from her cheeks to her chest.

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