Chapter 27
“This is your last chance, baby girl.” His words were practically growled into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Admit you were watching me, or I will be forced to punish you.”
“I wasn’t…”
A sharp sting radiated from my behind and throughout my entire body.
He hadn’t spanked me, not with his hand.
No, he had a riding crop.
The little bit of leather did not really leave any damage, but the sharp pain was still undeniable. I tried to stop my cry by pressing my lips together, but it didn’t work.
He whipped me again, and with each impact, a yelp escaped my lips.
“Do not lie to me, little one. Tell me that you were watching me.”
Tears streamed down my face as I said nothing. It wasn’t out of defiance, not really. Each strike from the crop hurt, but then it left a hot, burning sensation on my skin. The sting faded quickly into something more, something better.
Tears streamed down my face, but they felt cathartic.
After a moment, he cropped me again, and this time, my cries of pain sounded more like moans of pleasure. Again and again, over and over, he struck me with the crop, no doubt leaving large red welts all over my behind and my upper thighs.
Then he placed the crop against the cotton of my panties, which had to be soaked by now. He pressed it against me, giving me the most delicious friction.
“Last chance, baby girl.”
“I was watching you. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” The words flew from my lips. I didn’t want to know how the crop would feel against my most sensitive flesh.
“Why? What did watching me do for you?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
He knew I was lying and gave me a quick but intense slap on my pussy with the crop. I cried out again. It was a million times more intense than the swats on my backside or even on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. But with the increased pain came something else, too.
“Tell me the truth.”
“I watched you because it turned me on. I watched you because I couldn’t not watch you.”
He threw the crop to the side and then pressed his body against mine, his hand slipping around my hip, under my skirt, and sliding into my soaking panties.
“All this time, I’m trying to punish you. But all I seem to do is turn you into a desperate, horny little cock slut.”
His fingers stroked my clit, making me dizzy with desire, while his other hand moved to my throat. Not choking me, but holding me. “I bet I could put you on your knees right now, and you would hungrily swallow down my cock. Or I could bend you over and take you right here.”
“Please.” I didn’t remember saying the word, but I could hear it coming from my lips.
“Oh, baby girl, I know this cunt is dripping for me. Desperate to be filled. But you are a bad girl, so you don’t get what you want. I, however, am going to take the trophy I deserve. I’ve already fucked your throat raw and pounded your pussy until you screamed my name.”
His fingers went from my clit, past my opening, into my asshole. He circled it with his thumb, spreading my own dampness around. “Now I’m going to take my trophy and claim your ass as well.”
“Please. I was trying to be good.”
I should have refused him.
I should have fought, but the way he touched me there, I hadn’t even known that was something that would have been expected of me or that I’d want it.
He let go of my throat and reached into his pocket, pulling out the metal tin I had seen him slide in. He set it on a horizontal beam just above my head. I looked up to see the label. It was a balm made from honey and beeswax.
“This is going to hurt,” he whispered in my ear. “But I think you like that.”
He pulled me away from the wall and bent me over at my waist. Flipping my dress up and pushing my thong down to around my ankles.
I didn’t say anything.
I let him move me.
My eyes slid closed as I tried to brace myself against the wooden walls.
His hand was either on my lower back, pressing me down further, or on my thighs, spreading them before I heard him grab the tin and set it on my lower back.
My face burned with humiliation as I prayed no one came back here, but the rest of my body tingled with anticipation. There were so many things that he’d done to me that I didn’t want to happen, but every single one ended up setting my body on fire. Every single one of them made me feel so unbelievably satisfied but also desperate for more.
The only thing I could do was hope that this was going to be just as intense, just as good. Even when he gave me pain, he gave me pleasure.
He was a king.
He was going to take what he wanted regardless of what I had to say about it. But when what he wanted had always given me such a dark pleasure, why should I fight it?
I jumped when he spread the balm over my backside, slowly working in one finger and then stretching me with two. The burn was instant and intense but faded after a moment. The more balm he used, the more comfortable it got, and the less my body tried to fight the intrusion.
But that was just a finger.
“I want to hear you say it again,” he demanded as I heard his zipper go down, and a sound that could only be him spreading the balm on his cock.
“Say what?”
“You know what I want to hear,” he demanded as he pressed the head of his cock to my ass.
“I was watching you,” I said, as he slowly pressed into me.
I gasped.
It felt different than before. It hurt, but there was something else there, too.
He stopped only an inch inside of me, but it felt like so much more.“Why were you watching me?”
“Because I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I saw you riding that horse and…” I stuttered as he moved again.
“And?”
“And I wanted you. Seeing you in control like that made me wet, and I ached for you to dominate me the way you owned that field.”
“What about the men who were talking to you?”
“What men?” I asked, overwhelmed. It was so hard to think while his cock was pushing inside of me so quickly, stretching me beyond my limits.
“Don’t lie,” he warned.
“I’m not. I don’t remember any other men. My eyes and my thoughts were on you the entire match.”
Finally, he was completely seated inside of me, and he held me there, not letting me move. Not that I would even if I could.
“Good girl,” he whispered into my hair, leaning over my body.
I could feel the warmth of his chest and his arms through the thin fabric of my dress, and it made me ache to press against him. Instead, he stood straight, his hand holding my back at the angle he wanted as he moved.
Just like the first time he took my pussy, the first few full thrusts hurt, but with each pass, it hurt less, until suddenly, the pain was overtaken by pleasure. But this wasn’t the same as before.
It felt different. Forbidden. It was a darker, more illicit pleasure that I didn’t even know I could want.
“God, yes, just like that,” he said behind me. “Keep taking it like such a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”
“Yes, sir,” I breathed, keeping my hands flat on the wooden planks on the side of the stable.
“Fuck.” He bit out the curse, grabbing my hips with both hands like he was trying to hang on.
I couldn’t be sure, but I had the distinct feeling that Lucian Manwarring was starting to lose control.
He was losing control while taking pleasure in my body. There was something very satisfying about that, knowing the great king was going to lose his composure because of little ol’ me.
I wanted more of that power, even if it was just a momentary illusion. I leaned down a little further, arching my back and pressing my hips up, giving him a deeper angle. It changed the way that not only my body gripped his but how he filled me, giving me a taste of more pleasure.
The fingers of one of his hands dug into my hip harder, but that didn’t stop me, not even when his other hand came around me and stroked my clit.
I closed my eyes again, and I let the intoxication from the several drinks I had, as well as the light-headedness and overwhelming ecstasy, take control. The little voices in my head stopped telling me this was wrong.
They stopped telling me that he shouldn’t be able to touch me like this, that I definitely shouldn’t like it, let alone crave it. Those little voices finally shut up, and I gave in to the pleasure.
It wasn’t long before my thighs shook, forcing me to put more weight on my hands to stop myself from collapsing. I held on for a few more minutes before the sweat ran down my brow and trailed down my back.
But I didn’t want to come first. I didn’t want to come before he did. I was afraid that if I allowed myself to go over the edge that what he was doing to me wouldn’t feel as good. The little voices would come back and it would ruin the experience for me.
So I did what any good baby girl would do.
“Sir, am I allowed to come?”
“Oh, fuck,” he said between clenched teeth. His cock felt like it was swelling even larger inside of me, and his words were spoken between gritted teeth.
“Please, sir?”
“Yes, come for me, baby girl.”
Something told me that he was about to follow me over the edge, so I let go. Wave after wave of ecstasy flooded my body as I screamed out his name and came.
“Stella…” He came right after I did with a satisfying grunt and my name on his lips.
We both stayed there, not moving, just catching our breath for several minutes. Until he lifted my hand from the wall and saw the handprint I had left in blood.
“What did you do, baby girl?” he asked, still inside me.
“I don’t know.” My hand stung, but I hadn’t noticed. The sensation had been lost among all the others.
He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Splinter, come upstairs. We will take care of this now and get back to the crowd.”
“Yes, sir.”
He slid out of my body and tucked himself away before helping me straighten up.
Without warning, he swooped me into his arms and carried me up a set of wooden stairs at the back of the stable. I didn’t have the strength to fight him. I laid my head against his chest and took the comfort where I could.
Upstairs, there was a loft with a large, jetted tub in the middle of the room overlooking the lake. The main room had a couple of chairs and a couch, but other than that, it was pretty bare.
He led me past the tub into the actual bathroom and started the shower. This bathroom, much like the rest of the apartment, was sparse but had what he needed.
After gingerly holding my hand and removing the splinter, he washed my body, spending extra time between my legs and making sure I was completely clean.
“Put your dress back on, but do not put on your underwear,” he said from the shower. “Hurry. As soon as I’m done here, we’re going to go back so they can present the trophies.”
“You’re getting a trophy?” I asked, not really thinking.
“I’m the captain of the team. We won the match. So, I get a piece of metal that will signify my victory. Though if I’m being honest, I already got the trophy I wanted.”
He slapped my ass on the way past me to the closet where he kept spare clothes to change into.
That was enough to break the spell I was under.
He’d reminded me of exactly what I was to him.
To me, he was a king, a warrior, and a man who could show me all of the things that I didn’t know my body could do.
To him, I was a trophy.
Something he could put on a shelf and show people what he won.