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.

 



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