Monday, 30 September 2013

Amazon success for Kneeling Before Her Knight




Hi Everyone,

Just thought I would report on Kneeling Before Her Knight's Amazon.com success so far.  I woke up this morning to find my novel has a Bestsellers rank of #3,747.  Woohoo!  Many thanks to all of you who have bought the book.  If you haven't and you would like to, here is the purchasing link for Amazon.com .  I am really hoping to make the Erotica Top 100 chart on Amazon.


Remember you can check out the blurb and the first chapter of Kneeling Before Her Knight on the previous post on this blog.


My Regency spanking romance, Kidnapped & Disciplined which was re-released by Blushing Books after doing monumentally well with closing publisher, Noble Romance, is also doing well.  It has reached No. 48 in the top 100 Victorian Historical Romance chart on Amazon.com.  If you haven't got a copy and would like one, here is the link for Amazon.com .

Again, remember you can read the blurb and first chapter of Kidnapped & Disciplined on a previous post on this blog.

Have a great day!


Sara









Thursday, 26 September 2013

Kneeling Before Her Knight is Released!




Hi Everyone,

My Medieval spanking romance containing elements of BDSM and much more, Kneeling Before Her Knight is now available on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk .  I have posted the blurb and chapter one below as a taster. 

This novel is my hottest yet!  It isn't for the faint hearted.  Hope you enjoy it!


Sara



Kneeling Before Her Knight  Blurb


 

When her sister Rosalie is dragged from her home to be married against her will, Christabel turns in desperation to the only man who might be able to help.  Unfortunately for her, that man is Sir Tristan, a knight who swears his questing days are behind him and refuses to aid her.  When she questions his manhood, however, she quickly finds that he is more than ready to bare her bottom and spank her soundly.

 
Before she knows it, Christabel finds herself naked, bound and serving at the pleasure of Sir Tristan.  In spite of herself, she finds that some part of her is deeply aroused by her situation, but she cannot forget her sister’s plight.  Will she convince her new master to act to save Rosalie before it is too late?

 

Publisher’s Note:  Kneeling Before Her Knight is an erotic novel that includes both consensual and non-consensual spankings, anal play, graphic sexual scenes, exhibitionism, elements of BDSM, and more.  If such material offends you, please do not buy this book.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Chapter One

 
 
Derwent, Cumbria, The Middle Ages.
 
Christabel ran for her life through the forest.  Her frantic pace made her progress both difficult and dangerous.  The snort and pants of the horses behind told her the army of knights were gaining upon her.  They were determined to ride her down.  If she were to be caught there would be no rescue for her sister captured by the dark Lord John of Connolly for marriage against her will.  Worse still Lord John’s men would undoubtedly take their fill of her body before tossing her to the wolves Lord John kept around his castle or burned her at the stake for being a witch.
Christabel stumbled and tripped over a tree root.  She found herself falling to the undergrowth face down.  Desperately, she scrabbled to lift her dress and restore herself to her feet as one of the knights pounded towards her on his horse.  As she stood, the knight reached down to scoop her up in to his arms but she flung herself to the side and he was unable to manage the feat with a growl, he turned his horse and began to follow her to attempt the action once more.  His companions thundered behind him.
Christabel lifted her dress and continued to run for her life.  Suddenly, out of the forest in front of her another knight approached at speed.  With a startled cry she dipped her head and turned right but she was to find one of Lord John’s men galloping towards her in that direction.  There was to be no escape to the left with the exit blocked by two knights.  Was she to be trampled to death?
Tears gathered as the knight in front of her reached her helpless figure.  But to her amazement he ignored her and raised his sword to battle the four attacking knights.  With a loud growl he struck at the first, the leader of Lord John’s men.  All of the men were not clothed in armour and had only their shields for protection.  The mysterious rescuing knight’s sword cut sharp and deep in to the leader’s arm.  Ferociously he beat him back and attacked the second coming to the leader’s defence.  Christabel moved behind him taking shelter and safety under the canopy of a large oak tree.  She pressed herself back against the tree watching the brave chivalrous knight fight to defend both her honour and her life.
She feared for his safety and his lone fight when the men surrounded him but he was strong and cunning slicing through his enemy with deep wounding cuts, using his shield skillfully to protect himself from the wounds they sought to inflict upon him.  After a while they were sorely beaten and forced to retreat. Breathless she turned to view the handsome dark haired knight dressed all in black upon his stallion turning to walk his horse towards her with purpose.  It was Sir Tristan, the brave knight she had been seeking to help her rescue her cousin from Lord John.  He was as handsome as she remembered when seeing him pass through her village not two years ago. 
She watched Sir Tristan dismount from his horse and come towards her.  She could not help her blushes.  She curtseyed.
‘Thank you, kind Knight.  I believed I was to be ruined.’
‘It was a trifle, my lady.  What are you doing in the forest unaccompanied?  Why are you here on my land?  What distress has fallen upon such a pretty damsel for Lord John’s men to be chasing you for capture,’ he asked frowning as he studied her bruised face with concern.  Gently his fingers reached out to probe the injury across her cheek with a soothing caress.  She felt her cheeks suffuse with heat.  Unable to look at him she lowered her eyes bashfully.  She felt him lift her chin.
‘Do not be afraid.  I will not harm you.  Please tell me who you are and why you are here?’ he asked with a gentle smile.
‘I came to see you, Sir Tristan.  You are the bravest and most honourable of the Knights I have been told of.  Many a night I have listened to stories told of your famous quests and your bravery.  It is why I have come to you to ask for your help.  My younger sister, Rosalie has been kidnapped by the devil Lord John.  He means to force her in to his bed and in to marriage.  He has already killed my father and two of our servants to take her,’ an unexpected distressed sob breached her lips as she recounted her tale of woe to the knight.  ‘I need you to rescue Rosalie.  She is betrothed to another, a knight, Sir Ancel.  He is at war fighting in battle for King Jonas of Lanchester and cannot come to her aid.  Please we must leave at once and waste no further time to ensure her rescue,’ she urged.
“Shh, my Lady,” the knight whispered wiping the tears from her eyes with his fingertips.  “You are distressed.  Calm yourself.  I regret I cannot help you.  My days of venturing on romantic knightly quests are long gone.  I do not see myself as noble any longer  It is none of my business.  I cannot help your sister but I can offer you shelter and warmth in my home until you a ready to leave.  I will have one of my servants accompany you home.  You should consider your cousin lost to Lord John.  He is a barbaric man who will always have his way.’
Unexpected outraged disbelief coursed suddenly through Christabel’s young veins.
‘But you must help my sister.  You are a knight,” she insisted.
“I am a Knight no more, my Lady” he said firmly as he took hold of her hand to lead her to his horse.
She snatched it away.
‘I will not be denied.  It is your duty and the purpose of your career and being to serve the disadvantaged and distressed.  I heard you tell the people of my village two years ago.  They were your very words.’
‘They were foolish words indeed.  I have learnt my lesson well.  Now come,’ Sir Tristan’s voice now brimmed with controlled anger.
‘No I will not come with you.  Unhand me.  I demand you go to rescue my sister.”
“No.  She is lost.  Look to the safety of your own life.  Her knight should not have left his betrothed unprotected.  It is his fault and his task to remedy on his return.  It is none of my business to interfere.  She must face her fate.  Nothing comes of a knightly quest.  People die. People you care about are lost forever through reckless noble arrogant pursuits.  No, I will not endure it again.  I will not leave you alone out here.  Now come or am I forced to carry you?” he bellowed tugging her to his chest.
‘Then I shall face Lord John myself and attempt Rosalie’s rescue,’ she told him defiantly.
The knight laughed and made to lift her struggling body up in to his arms.
‘Do not laugh at me.  You are a coward and should be stripped of your knighthood,’ she snapped with ferment anger.  She punctuated by slapping her hand hard against the side of Sir Tristan’s face, whipping it to one side with force.
 A dark menacing shadow fell across Sir Tristan’s face as she stared up at him in horror.
‘You dare to question my honour, my bravery and manhood,’ he growled.  ‘The last person to insult me in that vain was made to pay with his life.’
  Fear froze any movement she wished to make to escape any punishment he wished to bestow for her action.  Afraid she put her hand to  her mouth to stifle a frightened gasp.
  “Your sex makes me lenient but it appears you need  a hard lesson in manners and humility, child.  I will punish you until you are deterred from your wilfulness and kneel before me in penitence and obedience,” he stated with chilling seductive coldness.
Christabel gave a squeal when the knight bent quickly and took her arm pulling her neatly and helplessly over his shoulder.  Struggling, Christabel was lifted atop the knight’s steed face downwards over the body of the beast , in front of his saddle.  He moved the horse off.  She squealed and kicked to free herself but all was in vain as the dark knight moved the horse on.  A surprised howl escaped her lips when she felt his heavy male hand strike her bottom with force.
‘Silence, wench.  Stop your caterwauling and remain still or I will spank your bare bottom sore,’ Sir Tristan instructed gruffly raising his hand to give Christabel’s buttocks another firm slap for good measure.  But it was not to stop her squealing and sobbing with fear.
With a heavy sigh of impatience, the Knight stopped his horse and dismounted wasting no time in pulling her from the horse to throw her over his broad shoulder once again.  Moments later he sat down on a fallen log and Christabel found herself strewn across his leather clad knees.  The Knight rested his hand in the middle of her back to steady her and lifted her dark red and white silk gown to her middle.  Her bottom was as naked as the day she was born underneath her dress and bared to his sight immediately.  She felt him rest a cool hand on her buttocks.  With a gasp she fell silent and froze, suddenly realising her fate, a sound bare bottom spanking. 
She considered the masculine weight and firmness of his hand as it rested against her, allowing her to feel the Knight’s strength and her vulnerability beneath it.  Her punishment would be harsh, perhaps even brutal.  He surprised her by caressing the skin of her bottom as it was warmed by the strong summer sun.  Strangely, his firm touch, although preparing to chastise her flesh felt reassuring.
‘Hush, little one.  You have a beautiful plump rump.  A spanking will settle your angry fearful passions and make your temper more amenable to my tastes, wench.  Then we will work out what further punishment it will be fitting for me to bestow upon you for your insults,’ he told her in a deep dark voice that seemed to caress her skin and melt her resistance, almost welcoming him to spank her bottom sore.  A curious painful sensation between her thighs took it upon itself to throb and produce a wetness she had never encountered.  The feeling brought colour to her cheeks and a needful pleasure in the pit of her stomach. 
Her confused feelings collided with her fear making her squirm and struggle to gain her freedom.  But her actions were to cause the commencement of her chastisement without any further delay.
A rush of warm air pushed down and struck her buttocks before the Knight’s firm dominant hand smacked her bare bottom with strength.  Her body tightened and she scrunched her eyes closed, breathing hard as she waited and anticipated the second blow to her vulnerable flesh.  A loud sob from her lips startled her body in to ceasing the movement that so annoyed the man.  Her bottom burned and stung as the Knight delivered another and yet another firm strike.  Christabel’s buttocks quivered and shook making her howl and cry, yet the wetness grew and pooled between her thighs.  The ache became pleasurable, threatening to burst from her body and consume her whole.    
A steady stream of tears emanated from Christabel’s eyes and a fresh series of yelps and howls began once more when the knight took it upon himself to move the punishment from her bare buttocks to the tender backs of her thighs, just below her bottom.  Finally, she became silent and accepting of her chastisement from the Knight and her body grew warm and pliant.  She lay quiet, and submissive, accepting each strike the Knight sought to deliver upon her bottom to discipline her wayward temper.
Eventually, the knight appeared satisfied she was penitent and soundly punished.  He finished her bare bottom spanking.  His fingers resumed caressing her bottom, moving to tenderly gentle the soreness playing over curve of her buttock where it sloped down in to the shape of the back of her thigh.
‘Now you are quiet, little one, perhaps you will be more amenable.  This is merely the first of your lessons in obedience and humility.  You must prepare yourself for further punishments.’  He gave a small laugh.  ‘You spanking has suited you well.  Wetness coats your thighs.’
Christabel felt the knight’s sturdy fingers begin to trace along the crease leading to the middle of her thighs.  She closed her eyes momentarily willing him to slip his digits inside her lustful sex and ease the needy ache dwelling there contradicting the burning sting of chastisement across her sore buttocks.  Only his fingers would quell the persistent wetness and pain.  All disturbing thoughts of being fondled or touched by a strange man, let alone one who held her captive in his grasp had flown from her mind.  But she had to think of her cousin.  Somehow she had to persuade Sir Tristan to rescue Rosalie.  She could not bear to lose her cousin to such a vile man who would ill use her. 
‘Please, Sir Tristan.  I beg your forgiveness.  My passions are indeed wayward but I am afraid for Rosalie’s virtue and life.  I beg your forgiveness and understanding.  I came to ask for your help as a knight and man of Honour,’ she was suddenly haughty, desperate to regain control of her thoughts distracted by his arousing touch.  Christabel wriggled uncomfortable with the very idea that something could make her so out of control.
The knight suddenly gripped the inside of her thigh in a determined manner drawing a startled cry of pain. 
‘I told you to cease your movement.  Do you want to me to punish you again?  I will spank your bottom crimson and you will be unable to sit if you continue to annoy me.’
A small sob escaped her lips.  Her bottom still burned and pulsed with the pain as though it still felt the firmness of his hand striking it.  She could not bear to be struck so hard again.
Christabel shook her head at the same time, pleading with him not to spank her.  She would be quiet and obedient.  Halting all movement, she forced herself to remain calm.
‘Please, brave knight help me to win back my sister.  I beg you to reconsider your decision.  I will take all of your lessons of humility and obedience.  I warrant I will be a better woman for it.  Please, I beg you, I beg you.  Rosalie is also a wilful creature and I fear she will die at Lord John’s hand for it.  I have lost my father and I will have no one to care for or love if she dies.  I do not wish to be alone,’ her voice was full of helpless tears.
Christabel looked upwards to see the handsome Knight’s deep blue eyes flicker with intense emotional pain as though he were remembering something sad.  His hair was the colour of a raven’s plumage and long to the base of his neck.  There was a soft curl to it.  His jaw was rough shaven and his age appeared to be close to twenty five years.  His eyes were beautiful, haunted.  Christabel found hard to turn away from.  But when the Knight caught her looking at him they turned cold and cruel shutting her out.
‘I have told you, I do not engage in fanciful knightly quests anymore, little one.  Has no one told you of my capricious nature.  I do not care for the winsome world or the people in it.  I detest their company and have no time for them.  You would do well to find someone else to help you.’
‘You should care.  You are a brave knight.  I have heard the stories of your battles, your quests, your famous chivalry towards damsels . . .’
‘Enough,’ the Knight shouted, gripping her thigh tightly, his thumb slipping further along the inside of her thigh to hold her.  She gasped with pain.
‘Please . . .’
The Knight suddenly chuckled.
‘You are so wet.  It has been a very long time since I touched a woman so intimately,’ his seductive low voice sounded wistful.
His thumb circled her wetness, lightly brushing against the lips of her pussy in a teasing motion.
‘I am going to enjoy punishing you to teach you the beauty of humility.  I believe you will come to like my efforts to reform your character.  What is your name?  By your dress it is clear you are a lady of birth and rank.  Who was your father?’
Christabel felt Sir Tristan gently continued his tantalising caress, burning heat and need through her body.  She gave a sigh of relief and deep pleasure when he moved his fingers directly into her lush sex, stroking the small pulsing bud.  Her wetness pooled around his fingers to ease their path as he moved one of them firmly inside her tight unexplored channel.
She found herself breathless when she spoke.
‘My father is Lord Adrian of Hawick.’
‘I am sorry for your loss, little one.  You are very tight, just as a virgin should be but the passion is upon you in strength,’ he appeared pleased with her needful sex.
She could not help but moan with pleasure as he pulsed his finger back and forth, in and out of her building a spiral of need.
‘Lord John struck him dead with his sword when he bravely fought to defend Rosalie.  I escaped capture.  Lord John wants me thrown to his wolves.  He did not approve of my wilful nature when I sought to defend my cousin at my own hand.  If I had behaved he would have kept me a whore for his men and himself when he did not have need of Rosalie in his bed.  When I was free, I immediately thought of you and I came to request your help.  His men found my hiding place and began to pursue me on my journey.  Please, you must help me.’
Please, Sir Tristan, you must help me.’
But Sir Tristan was to ignore her pleas.
‘You are wilful yet I commend your bravery, little one.  I also approve of your wet needy and lustful sex.  It must be satisfied.  I have not touched a woman for so long,’ his voice was once again, wistful, soft and dark with his own need.  It appeared to surprise him and take him unawares.
As his thumb began to concentrate on stroking her clit, Christabel felt her captor place a second finger inside her.  She gasped as he stretched his fingers upwards, forcing her sex to stretch and accommodate his fingers’ invasion.  She moaned, intrigued by the small amount of pain and the pleasure she took in his penetration, her hips bucking against his legs to accommodate their rhythmic movement through her slick channel.  Her pussy felt full, dominated as it rubbed against the tantalising warm leather of his trousers dampening them.  The urge to yield and submit to the knight and the pleasure he stoked inside her became overwhelming.  So long had she dreamt of being sexually mastered by a man, to be taken, tamed and taught wifely duty.  And the man who filled her was so handsome, manly, older and dominant.  All she had dreamt of in her bed at night.
‘Come for me, wench.  I want to feel your passion,’ he ordered.
The sudden slap of his palm, this time against her sore bare bottom  was to enforce his command and another strike caused her to come helplessly, bucking and writhing against his fingers consumed by strong overwhelming pleasure.  His spanking continued until her passion was spent and her sex flooded.  She hung limp and spent over his legs feeling him caress and soothe her bottom.
‘You come well.  Now I will take you to my home to begin the rest of your lessons.  You will remain my prisoner until you bend to my will and improve your character.  Your freedom will not be granted until I am satisfied of it.  Perhaps in the future you will not dare to insult a man’s honour again, woman.’
Christabel struggled again on hearing his words.
‘You cannot keep me.  I must help Rosalie.  I will not have this . . .’
Christabel found herself suddenly pulled to standing, her dress falling down to hide the evidence of her chastisement and taking.  The knight wound his hand tightly into her blonde red curls and forced her to reel backwards.  He pulled her towards him in a cruel heartless manner, angry at her outburst.  His handsome face was merely inches from hers, the bristle of his unshaven jaw momentarily rubbing against the pale softness of her cheek.  He had an earthy exotic male smell that made her moisten again despite his rough treatment of her body and the fear travelling through her veins.
‘I will do as I please.  Forget your cousin.  Think only of how you can service my needs, wench,’ he roared bringing forth tears from her eyes widened in fear and torment.
Furious he threw her to the ground and loosened his belt.  Christabel made an attempt to crawl away but the knight pulled her before him.  He stooped and placed the belt around her throat and fastened it tight.  Christabel sobbed and begged for him to let her go.  But he was to show her no mercy.  He tugged on the length of belt left from the makeshift leather collar around her neck and forced her to rise to her knees.  She had been leashed like the oxen ploughing the fields.  However, her humiliation and torment was not to end there.
She clutched at the collar desperate to relieve the pressure around her throat.
‘I know you are noble.  I will do all I can to make you remember and you will help my cousin,’ she said with determination through her sobbing.
The knight’s eyes darkened.
‘You will do well to remember your place, wench and your tongue or you will not be able to sit down for the beating I give your bare bottom.  I have no desire to help your sister.  You will pay for your grievous insult with your body and its delights until you learn humility and obedience.’
She felt him pull on her leather leash bringing her to standing and closer to him.
Without warning, Sir Tristan roughly took hold of the front of her dress and ripped it from her until she was naked before his eyes and the world.  He lifted her against his side and deposited her on to the saddle of his horse, forcing her legs spread wide, her wet pussy pressing down on the tan leather covered saddle.  He mounted the horse behind her and pulled her naked body towards him, securing her tightly around the waist.  He turned the horse and walked off making the horse go into a gallop back to his castle.
Christabel felt her sex rub slick against the saddle coupling awkwardly with the pain of her bare breasts bouncing uncomfortably with the motion of the horse.  Her rescue mission for Rosalie had failed and now she found herself abducted, stripped and leashed by a rogue Knight with no opportunity for escape.
 
 
Purchasing Links:  
 
 
 




New Amazon success for Kidnapped & Disciplined




Just woke up to find Kidnapped & Disciplined is No. 57 in the Victorian novels top 100 on Amazon.com.  Check it out at Amazon.com .  You can read the blurb and chapter one in previous posts on this blog.

Unfortunately, I am still waiting to hear when Kneeling Before Her Knight will be released.  I will post the date the moment I get it.  In the meantime you can read the blurb and first chapter on this blog in the last post.

Have a great day!

Sara







Monday, 23 September 2013

New Book : Kneeling Before Her Knight





Hi Everyone,

Here is the cover art for my new Medieval Spanking/BDSM romance which will be released in the very near future by Stormy Night Publications.  Once I get a release date I will post it.  In the meantime I have posted Chapter One for your review.

Please note that this book is my most erotic novel yet so think twice about reading if you are squeamish of such things. :)

Enjoy.





Kneeling Before Her Knight



Chapter One


 

 

Derwent, Cumbria, The Middle Ages.

 

Christabel ran for her life through the forest.  Her frantic pace made her progress both difficult and dangerous.  The snort and pants of the horses behind told her the army of knights were gaining upon her.  They were determined to ride her down.  If she were to be caught there would be no rescue for her cousin captured by the dark Lord John of Connolly for marriage against her will.  Worse still Lord John’s men would undoubtedly take their fill of her body before tossing her to the wolves Lord John kept around his castle or burned her at the stake for being a witch.

Christabel stumbled and tripped over a tree root.  She found herself falling to the undergrowth face down.  Desperately, she scrabbled to lift her dress and restore herself to her feet as one of the knights pounded towards her on his horse.  As she stood, the knight reached down to scoop her up in to his arms but she flung herself to the side and he was unable to manage the feat with a growl, he turned his horse and began to follow her to attempt the action once more.  His companions thundered behind him.

Christabel lifted her dress and continued to run for her life.  Suddenly, out of the forest in front of her another knight approached at speed.  With a startled cry she dipped her head and turned right but she was to find one of Lord John’s men galloping towards her in that direction.  There was to be no escape to the left with the exit blocked by two knights.  Was she to be trampled to death?

Tears gathered as the knight in front of her reached her helpless figure.  But to her amazement he ignored her and raised his sword to battle the four attacking knights.  With a loud growl he struck at the first, the leader of Lord John’s men.  All of the men were not clothed in armour and had only their shields for protection.  The mysterious rescuing knight’s sword cut sharp and deep in to the leader’s arm.  Ferociously he beat him back and attacked the second coming to the leader’s defence.  Christabel moved behind him taking shelter and safety under the canopy of a large oak tree.  She pressed herself back against the tree watching the brave chivalrous knight fight to defend both her honour and her life.

She feared for his safety and his lone fight when the men surrounded him but he was strong and cunning slicing through his enemy with deep wounding cuts, using his shield skillfully to protect himself from the wounds they sought to inflict upon him.  After a while they were sorely beaten and forced to retreat. Breathless she turned to view the handsome dark haired knight dressed all in black upon his stallion turning to walk his horse towards her with purpose.  It was Sir Tristan, the brave knight she had been seeking to help her rescue her cousin from Lord John.  He was as handsome as she remembered when seeing him pass through her village not two years ago. 

She watched Sir Tristan dismount from his horse and come towards her.  She could not help her blushes.  She curtseyed.

‘Thank you, kind Knight.  I believed I was to be ruined.’

‘It was a trifle, my lady.  What are you doing in the forest unaccompanied?  Why are you here on my land?  What distress has fallen upon such a pretty damsel for Lord John’s men to be chasing you for capture,’ he asked frowning as he studied her bruised face with concern.  Gently his fingers reached out to probe the injury across her cheek with a soothing caress.  She felt her cheeks suffuse with heat.  Unable to look at him she lowered her eyes bashfully.  She felt him lift her chin.

‘Do not be afraid.  I will not harm you.  Please tell me who you are and why you are here?’ he asked with a gentle smile.

‘I came to see you, Sir Tristan.  You are the bravest and most honourable of the Knights I have been told of.  Many a night I have listened to stories told of your famous quests and your bravery.  It is why I have come to you to ask for your help.  My younger cousin, Rosalie has been kidnapped by the devil Lord John.  He means to force her in to his bed and in to marriage.  He has already killed my father and two of our servants to take her,’ an unexpected distressed sob breached her lips as she recounted her tale of woe to the knight.  ‘I need you to rescue Rosalie.  She is betrothed to another, a knight, Sir Ancel.  He is at war fighting in battle for King Jonas of Lanchester and cannot come to her aid.  Please we must leave at once and waste no further time to ensure her rescue,’ she urged.

“Shh, my Lady,” the knight whispered wiping the tears from her eyes with his fingertips.  “You are distressed.  Calm yourself.  I regret I cannot help you.  My days of venturing on romantic knightly quests are long gone.  I do not see myself as noble any longer  It is none of my business.  I cannot help your cousin but I can offer you shelter and warmth in my home until you a ready to leave.  I will have one of my servants accompany you home.  You should consider your cousin lost to Lord John.  He is a barbaric man who will always have his way.’

Unexpected outraged disbelief coursed suddenly through Christabel’s young veins.

‘But you must help my cousin.  You are a knight,” she insisted.

“I am a Knight no more, my Lady” he said firmly as he took hold of her hand to lead her to his horse.

She snatched it away.

‘I will not be denied.  It is your duty and the purpose of your career and being to serve the disadvantaged and distressed.  I heard you tell the people of my village two years ago.  They were your very words.’

‘They were foolish words indeed.  I have learnt my lesson well.  Now come,’ Sir Tristan’s voice now brimmed with controlled anger.

‘No I will not come with you.  Unhand me.  I demand you go to rescue my cousin.”

“No.  She is lost.  Look to the safety of your own life.  Her knight should not have left his betrothed unprotected.  It is his fault and his task to remedy on his return.  It is none of my business to interfere.  She must face her fate.  Nothing comes of a knightly quest.  People die. People you care about are lost forever through reckless noble arrogant pursuits.  No, I will not endure it again.  I will not leave you alone out here.  Now come or am I forced to carry you?” he bellowed tugging her to his chest.

‘Then I shall face Lord John myself and attempt Rosalie’s rescue,’ she told him defiantly.

The knight laughed and made to lift her struggling body up in to his arms.

‘Do not laugh at me.  You are a coward and should be stripped of your knighthood,’ she snapped with ferment anger.  She punctuated by slapping her hand hard against the side of Sir Tristan’s face, whipping it to one side with force.

 A dark menacing shadow fell across Sir Tristan’s face as she stared up at him in horror.

‘You dare to question my honour, my bravery and manhood,’ he growled.  ‘The last person to insult me in that vain was made to pay with his life.’

  Fear froze any movement she wished to make to escape any punishment he wished to bestow for her action.  Afraid she put her hand to  her mouth to stifle a frightened gasp.

  “Your sex makes me lenient but it appears you need  a hard lesson in manners and humility, child.  I will punish you until you are deterred from your wilfulness and kneel before me in penitence and obedience,” he stated with chilling seductive coldness.

Christabel gave a squeal when the knight bent quickly and took her arm pulling her neatly and helplessly over his shoulder.  Struggling, Christabel was lifted atop the knight’s steed face downwards over the body of the beast , in front of his saddle.  He moved the horse off.  She squealed and kicked to free herself but all was in vain as the dark knight moved the horse on.  A surprised howl escaped her lips when she felt his heavy male hand strike her bottom with force.

‘Silence, wench.  Stop your caterwauling and remain still or I will spank your bare bottom sore,’ Sir Tristan instructed gruffly raising his hand to give Christabel’s buttocks another firm slap for good measure.  But it was not to stop her squealing and sobbing with fear.

With a heavy sigh of impatience, the Knight stopped his horse and dismounted wasting no time in pulling her from the horse to throw her over his broad shoulder once again.  Moments later he sat down on a fallen log and Christabel found herself strewn across his leather clad knees.  The Knight rested his hand in the middle of her back to steady her and lifted her dark red and white silk gown to her middle.  Her bottom was as naked as the day she was born underneath her dress and bared to his sight immediately.  She felt him rest a cool hand on her buttocks.  With a gasp she fell silent and froze, suddenly realising her fate, a sound bare bottom spanking. 

She considered the masculine weight and firmness of his hand as it rested against her, allowing her to feel the Knight’s strength and her vulnerability beneath it.  Her punishment would be harsh, perhaps even brutal.  He surprised her by caressing the skin of her bottom as it was warmed by the strong summer sun.  Strangely, his firm touch, although preparing to chastise her flesh felt reassuring.

‘Hush, little one.  You have a beautiful plump rump.  A spanking will settle your angry fearful passions and make your temper more amenable to my tastes, wench.  Then we will work out what further punishment it will be fitting for me to bestow upon you for your insults,’ he told her in a deep dark voice that seemed to caress her skin and melt her resistance, almost welcoming him to spank her bottom sore.  A curious painful sensation between her thighs took it upon itself to throb and produce a wetness she had never encountered.  The feeling brought colour to her cheeks and a needful pleasure in the pit of her stomach. 

Her confused feelings collided with her fear making her squirm and struggle to gain her freedom.  But her actions were to cause the commencement of her chastisement without any further delay.

A rush of warm air pushed down and struck her buttocks before the Knight’s firm dominant hand smacked her bare bottom with strength.  Her body tightened and she scrunched her eyes closed, breathing hard as she waited and anticipated the second blow to her vulnerable flesh.  A loud sob from her lips startled her body in to ceasing the movement that so annoyed the man.  Her bottom burned and stung as the Knight delivered another and yet another firm strike.  Christabel’s buttocks quivered and shook making her howl and cry, yet the wetness grew and pooled between her thighs.  The ache became pleasurable, threatening to burst from her body and consume her whole.    

A steady stream of tears emanated from Christabel’s eyes and a fresh series of yelps and howls began once more when the knight took it upon himself to move the punishment from her bare buttocks to the tender backs of her thighs, just below her bottom.  Finally, she became silent and accepting of her chastisement from the Knight and her body grew warm and pliant.  She lay quiet, and submissive, accepting each strike the Knight sought to deliver upon her bottom to discipline her wayward temper.

Eventually, the knight appeared satisfied she was penitent and soundly punished.  He finished her bare bottom spanking.  His fingers resumed caressing her bottom, moving to tenderly gentle the soreness playing over curve of her buttock where it sloped down in to the shape of the back of her thigh.

‘Now you are quiet, little one, perhaps you will be more amenable.  This is merely the first of your lessons in obedience and humility.  You must prepare yourself for further punishments.’  He gave a small laugh.  ‘You spanking has suited you well.  Wetness coats your thighs.’

Christabel felt the knight’s sturdy fingers begin to trace along the crease leading to the middle of her thighs.  She closed her eyes momentarily willing him to slip his digits inside her lustful sex and ease the needy ache dwelling there contradicting the burning sting of chastisement across her sore buttocks.  Only his fingers would quell the persistent wetness and pain.  All disturbing thoughts of being fondled or touched by a strange man, let alone one who held her captive in his grasp had flown from her mind.  But she had to think of her cousin.  Somehow she had to persuade Sir Tristan to rescue Rosalie.  She could not bear to lose her cousin to such a vile man who would ill use her. 

‘Please, Sir Tristan.  I beg your forgiveness.  My passions are indeed wayward but I am afraid for Rosalie’s virtue and life.  I beg your forgiveness and understanding.  I came to ask for your help as a knight and man of Honour,’ she was suddenly haughty, desperate to regain control of her thoughts distracted by his arousing touch.  Christabel wriggled uncomfortable with the very idea that something could make her so out of control.

The knight suddenly gripped the inside of her thigh in a determined manner drawing a startled cry of pain. 

‘I told you to cease your movement.  Do you want to me to punish you again?  I will spank your bottom crimson and you will be unable to sit if you continue to annoy me.’

A small sob escaped her lips.  Her bottom still burned and pulsed with the pain as though it still felt the firmness of his hand striking it.  She could not bear to be struck so hard again.

Christabel shook her head at the same time, pleading with him not to spank her.  She would be quiet and obedient.  Halting all movement, she forced herself to remain calm.

‘Please, brave knight help me to win back my cousin.  I beg you to reconsider your decision.  I will take all of your lessons of humility and obedience.  I warrant I will be a better woman for it.  Please, I beg you, I beg you.  Rosalie is also a wilful creature and I fear she will die at Lord John’s hand for it.  I have lost my father and I will have no one to care for or love if she dies.  I do not wish to be alone,’ her voice was full of helpless tears.

Christabel looked upwards to see the handsome Knight’s deep blue eyes flicker with intense emotional pain as though he were remembering something sad.  His hair was the colour of a raven’s plumage and long to the base of his neck.  There was a soft curl to it.  His jaw was rough shaven and his age appeared to be close to twenty five years.  His eyes were beautiful, haunted.  Christabel found hard to turn away from.  But when the Knight caught her looking at him they turned cold and cruel shutting her out.

‘I have told you, I do not engage in fanciful knightly quests anymore, little one.  Has no one told you of my capricious nature.  I do not care for the winsome world or the people in it.  I detest their company and have no time for them.  You would do well to find someone else to help you.’

‘You should care.  You are a brave knight.  I have heard the stories of your battles, your quests, your famous chivalry towards damsels . . .’

‘Enough,’ the Knight shouted, gripping her thigh tightly, his thumb slipping further along the inside of her thigh to hold her.  She gasped with pain.

‘Please . . .’

The Knight suddenly chuckled.

‘You are so wet.  It has been a very long time since I touched a woman so intimately,’ his seductive low voice sounded wistful.

His thumb circled her wetness, lightly brushing against the lips of her pussy in a teasing motion.

‘I am going to enjoy punishing you to teach you the beauty of humility.  I believe you will come to like my efforts to reform your character.  What is your name?  By your dress it is clear you are a lady of birth and rank.  Who was your father?’

Christabel felt Sir Tristan gently continued his tantalising caress, burning heat and need through her body.  She gave a sigh of relief and deep pleasure when he moved his fingers directly into her lush sex, stroking the small pulsing bud.  Her wetness pooled around his fingers to ease their path as he moved one of them firmly inside her tight unexplored channel.

She found herself breathless when she spoke.

‘My father is Lord Adrian of Hawick.’

‘I am sorry for your loss, little one.  You are very tight, just as a virgin should be but the passion is upon you in strength,’ he appeared pleased with her needful sex.

She could not help but moan with pleasure as he pulsed his finger back and forth, in and out of her building a spiral of need.

‘Lord John struck him dead with his sword when he bravely fought to defend Rosalie.  I escaped capture.  Lord John wants me thrown to his wolves.  He did not approve of my wilful nature when I sought to defend my cousin at my own hand.  If I had behaved he would have kept me a whore for his men and himself when he did not have need of Rosalie in his bed.  When I was free, I immediately thought of you and I came to request your help.  His men found my hiding place and began to pursue me on my journey.  Please, you must help me.’

Please, Sir Tristan, you must help me.’

But Sir Tristan was to ignore her pleas.

‘You are wilful yet I commend your bravery, little one.  I also approve of your wet needy and lustful sex.  It must be satisfied.  I have not touched a woman for so long,’ his voice was once again, wistful, soft and dark with his own need.  It appeared to surprise him and take him unawares.

As his thumb began to concentrate on stroking her clit, Christabel felt her captor place a second finger inside her.  She gasped as he stretched his fingers upwards, forcing her sex to stretch and accommodate his fingers’ invasion.  She moaned, intrigued by the small amount of pain and the pleasure she took in his penetration, her hips bucking against his legs to accommodate their rhythmic movement through her slick channel.  Her pussy felt full, dominated as it rubbed against the tantalising warm leather of his trousers dampening them.  The urge to yield and submit to the knight and the pleasure he stoked inside her became overwhelming.  So long had she dreamt of being sexually mastered by a man, to be taken, tamed and taught wifely duty.  And the man who filled her was so handsome, manly, older and dominant.  All she had dreamt of in her bed at night.

‘Come for me, wench.  I want to feel your passion,’ he ordered.

The sudden slap of his palm, this time against her sore bare bottom  was to enforce his command and another strike caused her to come helplessly, bucking and writhing against his fingers consumed by strong overwhelming pleasure.  His spanking continued until her passion was spent and her sex flooded.  She hung limp and spent over his legs feeling him caress and soothe her bottom.

‘You come well.  Now I will take you to my home to begin the rest of your lessons.  You will remain my prisoner until you bend to my will and improve your character.  Your freedom will not be granted until I am satisfied of it.  Perhaps in the future you will not dare to insult a man’s honour again, woman.’

Christabel struggled again on hearing his words.

‘You cannot keep me.  I must help Rosalie.  I will not have this . . .’

Christabel found herself suddenly pulled to standing, her dress falling down to hide the evidence of her chastisement and taking.  The knight wound his hand tightly into her blonde red curls and forced her to reel backwards.  He pulled her towards him in a cruel heartless manner, angry at her outburst.  His handsome face was merely inches from hers, the bristle of his unshaven jaw momentarily rubbing against the pale softness of her cheek.  He had an earthy exotic male smell that made her moisten again despite his rough treatment of her body and the fear travelling through her veins.

‘I will do as I please.  Forget your cousin.  Think only of how you can service my needs, wench,’ he roared bringing forth tears from her eyes widened in fear and torment.

Furious he threw her to the ground and loosened his belt.  Christabel made an attempt to crawl away but the knight pulled her before him.  He stooped and placed the belt around her throat and fastened it tight.  Christabel sobbed and begged for him to let her go.  But he was to show her no mercy.  He tugged on the length of belt left from the makeshift leather collar around her neck and forced her to rise to her knees.  She had been leashed like the oxen ploughing the fields.  However, her humiliation and torment was not to end there.

She clutched at the collar desperate to relieve the pressure around her throat.

‘I know you are noble.  I will do all I can to make you remember and you will help my cousin,’ she said with determination through her sobbing.

The knight’s eyes darkened.

‘You will do well to remember your place, wench and your tongue or you will not be able to sit down for the beating I give your bare bottom.  I have no desire to help your cousin.  You will pay for your grievous insult with your body and its delights until you learn humility and obedience.’

She felt him pull on her leather leash bringing her to standing and closer to him.

Without warning, Sir Tristan roughly took hold of the front of her dress and ripped it from her until she was naked before his eyes and the world.  He lifted her against his side and deposited her on to the saddle of his horse, forcing her legs spread wide, her wet pussy pressing down on the tan leather covered saddle.  He mounted the horse behind her and pulled her naked body towards him, securing her tightly around the waist.  He turned the horse and walked off making the horse go into a gallop back to his castle.

Christabel felt her sex rub slick against the saddle coupling awkwardly with the pain of her bare breasts bouncing uncomfortably with the motion of the horse.  Her rescue mission for Rosalie had failed and now she found herself abducted, stripped and leashed by a rogue Knight with no opportunity for escape.

 



Sunday, 22 September 2013

Kidnapped & Disciplined Now Available on Amazon





Kidnapped & Disciplined is now available on Amazon.  Here are the purchasing links, Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk .  You can read the blurb and chapter one on previous posts on this blog.

Tomorrow I will be posting the cover art for my new Medieval BDSM and spanking romance, Kneeling Before Her Knight which will hopefully be out in the next week.


Sara

Saturday, 21 September 2013

Kidnapped & Disciplined Available On Blushing Books





I am happy to announce that  my Regency Spanking Romance, Kidnapped & Disciplined is now available for sale on Blushing Books.  Check out the blurb and first chapter on my previous post and then head over to Blushing Books. :)

The book should be appearing on Amazon.com & Amazon.co.uk any time now.  When I get the purchasing links I will post them immediately.

Purchase link

Blushing Books


Sara

Friday, 20 September 2013

Kidnapped & Disciplined Re-Released!




Hi Everyone,

Here is the new cover art for my Regency spanking romance, Kidnapped & Disciplined.  It is romantically indulgent and lavish - a good representation of the novel.  I love it!

The novel will be re-released by Blushing Books on Saturday.  As soon as I get the purchase links I will post them.  In the meantime, check out the blurb and first chapter below.

In the next week or so, my medieval knight spanking romance, Kneeling Before Her Knight will be released by Stormy Night Publications.  In the coming days I will be posting the cover art, blurb and first chapter.


Sara



KIDNAPPED & DISCIPLINED   BLURB




LADY DASHWOOD IS KIDNAPPED ON HORSEBACK BY THE WICKEDLY HANDSOME LORD RAMSAY.  HER KIDNAPPER MEANS TO HOLD PAMELA TO RANSOM TO FORCE HER BROTHER INTO RETURNING RAMSAY’S INFIRM SISTER, WHOM HE TRICKED INTO MARRIAGE.

 
IF ANDREW DOES NOT RETURN LORD RAMSAY’S SISTER THEN PAMELA WILL BE GIVEN TO THE SCANDALOUS LORD SIMON IN A BRIDE SALE FOR REVENGE.

 
UNEXPECTEDLY, LORD RAMSAY FINDS HIMSELF DETERMINED TO POSSESS THE FEISTY BEAUTIFUL HEIRESS.  BUT PAMELA IS DEFIANT AND EQUALLY DETERMINED TO QUENCH HER BURNING DESIRE FOR HER ABDUCTOR.

 
UNACCUSTOMED TO NOT HAVING HIS WAY, LORD RAMSAY ADMINISTERS A HEALTHY DOSE OF BARE BOTTOM SPANKING TO HIS CHARGE AND DISCOVERS SHE IS MORE THAN WILLING TO SUBMIT TO HIS MASTERY.

 

LORD RAMSAY ATTEMPTS TO RESOLVE HIS DISPUTE WITH ANDREW AND PROTECT PAMELA FROM AN IMPATIENT LORD SIMON RESOLVED TO FORCE HER INTO HIS OWN BED.



Kidnapped & Disciplined  

Chapter One





North of London, 5th December, 1812

Our pursuers were gaining on us. I feared for our lives as our carriage swayed from side to side. The coachman did his best to outrun them. I held on to the side and prayed we would be delivered from the danger of the highway robbers. I did not hold much hope for their civility with two women travelling alone in the afternoon as the winter sun was lowering in the sky. My companion Rosalind began to cry. She clutched at me, burying her head against my shoulder. I put my arm around her and held her tight, as much for my own comfort as for her own.

But we were not to escape. Hearing the gallop of a horse, I strained to look out of the carriage window. A young gentleman of birth rode past the window. I viewed him with reproof, but he smiled wickedly at me. My temper overwhelmed my fear and with good cause I may add.

I heard the sound of other horses, and the carriage slowed down. I could hear shouting, and then we came to an abrupt stop. Rosalind let out a sob. I urged her to be quiet and pressed myself back in my seat, setting my mind upon an escape should I be able to find the means. Perhaps the ruffians would steal our belongings and have nothing to do with us. But I was being foolish. I would just have to face the thieves with courage.

I heard the coachman and the boy who travelled on top with him do their best to protect us. They shouted and struggled with the men, but, when pistols were aimed at them, the coachman and boy were forced to halt their valiant fight and accept their defeat. Rosalind sobbed loudly, and none of my robust entreaties for her to stop snivelling bore any success. One of the men dismounted his horse. When I moved towards the door to alight and confront our pursuers, Rosalind pleaded with me to stay still. I decided not to distress her any further for fear she would be the cause of injury to herself with the ruffians. My heart pounded and ached as footsteps approached the carriage door.

A handsome face appeared at the window to command my attention.

"Lady Pamela Dashwood, I presume."

The young man who had passed the carriage earlier opened the door. I could not help feeling both surprise and concern that he already knew my name and title. I grew suspicious. He had more than highway robbery on his mind, and I was to be singled out for some crime. I had heard of young men capturing heiresses like myself and forcing them into marriage for their wealth. I was determined this would not happen to me.

"And who asks for me, sir?"

"Lord Peter Ramsay, at your service, Lady Dashwood."

I widened my eyes, watching him tilt his hat in mock service. He opened the carriage door without further haste and offered me his hand.

"Now, please allow me to help you from the carriage, madam."

"No, I will not, sir. What is the meaning of this? Why have you run down my carriage and frightened my companion? What do you want?"

Dismayed I had raised my voice with sudden trembling anger, I held Rosalind even tighter.

Lord Ramsay gave an impatient sigh.

"So many questions, Lady Dashwood. I will answer them all when you remove yourself from the carriage. Please take my hand and let me help you and your companion to alight."

The stranger possessed a soft, velvet voice, deep with firm masculine command. I felt his words subdue and counsel my urge to disobedience. Alarmed he should have such power over me, I fought back.

"No."

I made sure my tone was forceful, although it probably served me no good in the situation. Still, I am a stubborn girl, and I would not show him any fear.

"Madam." Lord Ramsay's voice rose an octave, but still he maintained an effort to be civil despite his threat. "If you do not alight, I will remove you myself and throw you over my knee and give you a good sound spanking on your bare bottom. Am I understood?"

"Really, I . . . ."

"Do as I instruct, or I will be forced to act."

His sternness left me in no doubt he meant to carry out his threat.

I simply stared at him, stunned he would dare speak his intention to inflict such a scandalous punishment upon me,  never mind employ it.

The stranger gave me a dark look. To my surprise, I could not stop myself from catching my breath. His threatening appearance was deeply attractive. Leaning into the carriage, he reached for my waist, circling it firmly in his grip. There was to be no escape. Forced to release the sobbing Rosalind, I quickly found myself outside the carriage. He towered above me in height, making my small stature a clear disadvantage, but I would not be deterred, and I continued to berate him for his actions. Lord Ramsay shook his head and was quick in bending his legs to pull me up over his strong, broad shoulder. I struggled, fiercely outraged at the vulnerable position in which he now placed me.

"I will do as you ask. There is no need for violence. Put me down Lord Ramsay."

But he was to ignore me. He carried my struggling form around the carriage, much to the great amusement of the five men who accompanied him on horseback. Three of them remained on their horses, aiming pistols at the coachman and young boy. Lord Ramsay was to take me from the road into the woods. Afraid for my life and virtue, I begged him not to hurt me.

"Hush, little one. I mean no harm other than to discipline you with a spanking. You may even like it." He chuckled.

"No, I will not allow you to spank me, sir," I insisted, but I knew inwardly the man could scarcely be entreated to manners after stopping my carriage like a highwayman. Perhaps he was one.

Lord Ramsay suddenly stopped.

"Yes, this will do well."

I found myself lowered to the ground but still held firmly by the arm. I gave a startled gasp at the speed with which he sat down upon a tree stump and pulled my arm to force me bent over his knee. The man wasted no time in lifting my thin muslin dress up around my waist. His movements were gentle but methodical. He carefully pulled my drawers down to my knees to expose my bottom to the chilly early December air. I had not been spanked since I was a child and did not wish to experience it again. I was no longer an errant child, but Lord Ramsay appeared to think otherwise. I renewed my struggles with vigour when I felt his large male palm softly settle on one of my naked buttocks. His response was swift. He pushed his other palm into my back with enough strength to hold me still and keep me down whilst his leg trapped my own. I was held fast. His hand caressed my bottom tenderly.

"Such a beautiful, fleshy, and well-shaped bottom." His voice was a low, soft, velvet caress, easing my fear and lulling me into a false sense of security. "I have not seen one like it on a woman for a while. I am looking forward to watching it quiver and jump when I strike it. A healthy blush of pink from a good hard spanking will enhance its beauty."

I was about to open my mouth and protest, but out of the corner of my eye I saw him raise his hand high. Tensing with anticipation, I shut my eyes tight, awaiting the sting of his hand across my bare, vulnerable buttocks. He was not to disappoint me. I shrieked with the shock of such burning pain. I did indeed feel my bottom jump and quiver with each strike of his firm, disciplining hand. He struck each buttock harder and harder, one blow after another in quick succession until tears sprang forth hotly from my eyes and I sobbed like a babe. His hand then moved swiftly to the backs of my thighs and struck.

"Well, well, Lady Dashwood, I believe you are enjoying your punishment. You are wet," he told me softly, gentle amusement playing underneath his tone.

My attention drifted to the unexpected dampness between my thighs. I was a virgin but no stranger to feeling aroused by my own ministrations, and I felt a mixture of shock and surprise that Lord Ramsay’s beating of my bottom had induced it. The very notion sparked pleasure and a sudden heavy ache and need I had never felt the likes of before. My sex pulsed and throbbed. I began to move my pussy restlessly against his breeches in a vain attempt to still it, lifting my buttocks unawares to meet every strike. Breathing hard, I felt my pleasure build to a quickening, but it was soon to diminish when Lord Ramsay ceased my punishment. I heard him laugh and then felt him stroke my bottom tenderly again. The skin burned and stung. Not even the cool air could ease my soreness. His fingers caressed the red backs of my thighs.

"A sound spanking suits you, Lady Dashwood. I would dearly like to paddle your bottom. Perhaps in time."

I whimpered, feeling both pain and need grip me. I desperately required satisfaction and wished he would leave me to tend to myself, but Lord Ramsay was to take pity on me.

"Hush," he whispered, slipping his fingers between my thighs and into the overflowing wetness seeping from my sex. I had never been touched this way by a man before. Shamefully, I craved it. Lord Ramsay stroked the small bud hanging ripe from my pussy to soothe my painful ache, which throbbed in unison with my beaten buttocks.

"I will tend to your ache, Lady Dashwood. You have earned a little pleasure from taking your spanking so well."

Slowly he moved a finger inside me and thrust it deeply. I lifted my hips to accommodate his progress. For a moment, he halted his progress.

"You are a virgin, Lady Dashwood. I did not expect it. I will be gentle with you."

He began to thrust his finger in and out, stretching and opening me to the cool air and whoever might happen upon us to view the proceedings. I cared not. Skilfully, Lord Ramsay teased his thumb over my bud, stroking, moving it back and forth, and then slipped another finger inside me. I groaned loudly. No longer would I be able to contain myself.

"I want you to come now, Lady Dashwood, and don't be ashamed," my captor instructed huskily. "Take your pleasure. I will take great delight in watching you surrender and yield to it."

The very idea he would watch my body be consumed by the pleasure he created spurred me on. Wantonly, I obeyed his command and came as he took me firmly with his fingers, still careful not to rob me of my virginity. Writhing and bucking helplessly across his knee, I came on top of his devilish fingers.

Satiated, I fell limp over his knee. Lord Ramsay removed his fingers and slipped them into his mouth.

I stared up at him in disbelief. He savoured the taste of my creamy wetness against his palate.

"You have a beautiful taste, Lady Dashwood. I would dearly like to sample more and take your virginity for my own here and now, but the day is drawing in, and we must be on our way for the sake of your safety and care."

Lord Ramsay gave my bare bottom two gentle taps with his hand and sighed.

"It is a pity I cannot play with you a little more. However, I warrant you will find it difficult to sit comfortably for a while. It will serve to remind you not to question my authority again. When I ask you to do something, I expect to be obeyed with more servitude than you would give a husband. If you do not, I shall whip your fleshy, pert bottom until I am satisfied you are punished, madam. Do I have your word?"

"Yes."

I breathed, doing well to hold back my stubborn annoyance at his arrogance. I could not take another spanking or a whipping.

"Good."

Lord Ramsay replaced my drawers and smoothed down my dress before he allowed me to stand. He frowned when he came to look down at me.

"You appear a little flushed and warm. Are you ill, Lady Dashwood? May I be of assistance?"

"No, I am fine, thank you," I lied.

I did indeed feel a sudden warmth and tiredness.

"Are you a highwayman, Lord Ramsay? I have heard of noblemen who take to the road. What do you intend to do with Rosalind and myself?"

"Abduct you both. And, no, I am not a highwayman."

I was about to protest, but Lord Ramsay suddenly bent and swept his arm under my legs to lift me into his arms and carry me quickly. He ignored my questions as to the reason for my abduction until we returned to the others.

An attractive, young, fair-headed man, who bore a family resemblance to Lord Ramsay, was taking hold of Rosalind as he handed her from the carriage. She began to squeal as he lifted her up around the waist and sat her on top of his horse. He quickly mounted and pulled her struggling form towards his chest.

I turned to Lord Ramsay, making no attempt to hide my displeasure.

"I demand you answer my questions now, sir. I will not be kept waiting any longer. When my brother hears of your treatment of us—"

"It is Lord Dashwood who causes your ill treatment."

A sudden fiery anger clouded Lord Ramsay's eyes as he carried me to his horse. I fought my fear to stand my ground, but I could not help being enthralled by his handsome features as he bent his head towards me. His refined pale features were complemented by lustrous, short, thick, dark brown hair and deep, tempestuous, coal black eyes.

"Your brother has taken my young sister for a fool, Lady Dashwood. He has filled her head with false flattery and induced her to elope with him. She is of a fragile mind, and he plans to ill use her, taking her fortune to pay his gambling debts. I have it on good authority that he plans to confine her in an asylum once he has taken all he can from her."

"But this cannot be true. You speak ill of my brother, yet I have only ever known kindness and love from him."

Those black eyes narrowed with menace.

"You have been sorely deceived. Did you not know he has squandered your family's wealth in his pursuit of leisure, vice, and women?"

"No, you lie. I will not believe, you, sir. Andrew has always been a high-spirited man, but he would never do such a thing."

I glanced up at Rosalind who still sobbed. Her captor held her tight against him, but, to my surprise, he did all he could to soothe her fear with whispers of reassurance she would come to no harm. He hushed her distress with a gentle kiss upon the crown of her head.

"You must, Lady Dashwood," Lord Ramsay continued in a raised voice. "He is on the verge of bankruptcy. He has designs on your own fortune that you are to receive from your late uncle when you attain the age of twenty-one in two years' time. I believe Andrew will use violence upon you until it is his own. There is no end to his villainy, I can assure you. He gives me no choice but to repay his act in kind and hold you to ransom for the safe return of my sister."

Tears sprang into my eyes to hear Andrew's character defiled. I struggled desperately, determined to free myself and find help. But Lord Ramsay tightened his grip on me fiercely until I was forced to cease all movement.

"There is no escape, Lady Dashwood. You would not last ten minutes in this forest unaccompanied. It is full of thieves and knaves who will want more than your wealth."

He deposited me sideways on top of his horse.

"Whilst under my care, you will be afforded my protection, and I will not allow you to be careless with your safety."

He quickly mounted behind me, sweeping his hand tightly around my waist before moving his horse off into the forest.

Stiffly, I tried to maintain a distance between myself and his body, but he was not to allow it. My sore, spanked bottom reminded me of the power my captor held over me as it moved and rubbed against the saddle. I turned my face up towards him.

"Am I to be given no choice in this matter? If my brother has done all you say he has, then why are Rosalind and I to be held accountable for his crime?"

Lord Ramsay met my eyes with intense curiosity. I blushed. He gave a mischievous smile of triumph at my reaction. It seemed he not only held my body captive but also my senses. I felt ashamed.

"I do not believe I have ever encountered a woman with spirit such as yourself. It is a shame we have not met under better circumstances. I believe I should have liked you for a wife," he said with flippant amusement.

I narrowed my eyes with displeasure.

"Then it is a blessing we have not. I should not like you for a husband, sir."

He laughed.

"I am sorry I must cause you some discomfort, but there is no other way." He widened his eyes and sighed. "Your brother does not respond very well to diplomacy. Only threats make him listen to sense. At least that is what I am told. Let us hope for your sake he does."

"What do you intend to do with me if he does not bring your sister home?"

"Then, my fair, beautiful, Lady Dashwood, I will have to sell you as a bride. I am sure there will be many bidders for your hand. Or I will give your hand in marriage to that rake Lord Simon who so desperately wants you for a wife."

"No. I won't allow it."

"You will have no say in the matter." He laughed. "Lord Simon is a brute of a man. You have done your best to reject his advances so far. I have heard of the way he has pursued your affections at social gatherings and balls to the point you have become distressed and afraid of the way he is so physical and inappropriate in his advances. He has never cared for propriety as his numerous female conquests can attest to. He loves a challenge and never takes no for an answer. Your defiance in refusing to accept him as a husband spurs his desire for you. Lord Simon considers the chase for your hand to be good sport. He will never give up until he has broken your will and captured you, body and soul. He will stop at nothing, even carrying you to the altar bound and gagged. I will simply end the game by handing you to him. It will spoil his hunter’s game, but he will not refuse my offer. It is a fitting retribution for your brother's cruel treatment of my sister."

"How can you be so malicious, so heartless—"

"It would vex your brother if you married, for he would no longer be able to find a way to take your inheritance for himself. Lord Simon is tired of waiting for you to accept his proposal. You have held out in your rejection of him longer than he anticipated. His patience has worn thin, and he is a man who always gets what he wants. He has been planning to kidnap you himself. The man will be mad I beat him to the task and spoiled his sport."

My temper flowed freely. Unable to bear sitting in Lord Ramsay's arms any longer, listening to his cruel sarcasm and contemptuous conversation, I struggled to free myself from his grip. I wanted to jump from the horse. His reaction was quick and punishing. Lord Ramsay tightened his hold upon my waist until I cried out with pain. Forcing me back against his chest, he crushed me against him until I ceased my fruitless struggle. I sat breathless in his arms.

"Remember what I said about the forest, Lady Dashwood. I would not want anything to happen to you," he whispered against my ear.

My skin tingled and warmed at the closeness of his lips and the caress of his breath. I wished with all my heart this cruel monster did not have such an effect upon me.

"After all, you must be kept safe for your brother, or he is unlikely to return my sister."

"You are not a gentleman, sir. You are misguided in deciding to involve me in your argument with Andrew."

"But I believe you are involved, Lady Dashwood. You must have known of your brother's gambling and his courting of my sister. I am told you are close and share everything."

"You are misinformed. I knew nothing. Andrew no longer talks to me. I rarely see him—"

"I wish I could believe you, Lady Dashwood, but it is not what I am told. You have had many meetings lately."

"Only because I have required his assistance in rejecting Lord Simon's persistent and offensive advances. Our meetings have been short and our conversation brief. I would not allow my brother to commit such a crime against your sister if I had known of his plans. Let me speak to him and resolve the matter to your convenience."

"No. You will remain my prisoner," Lord Ramsay insisted.

He tightened his grip further when I strained to lift my head and move away from him. Defeated, I allowed my head to relax and rest backwards against my captor. My head made contact with hard, firm muscle. Lord Ramsay's chest was broad and offered good support to my tiring body. I wanted desperately to resist the comfort, but Lord Ramsay would not afford me the luxury. Helpless in his powerful hold, I gave in and sank meekly into the safety of his arms.

I was enveloped in a heavenly, woody male scent of cedarwood and pine. It soothed and calmed my passion until I rested obediently. My eyes fluttered drowsily, a sudden headache befalling me. Lord Ramsay smiled down at me with approval.

"Your anger has tired you, Lady Dashwood. Take refuge in my arms and sleep," he whispered, surprising me as he brushed the top of my head with a gentle kiss. "We have a long journey ahead of us."