Taming Saffina Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Taming Saffina

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-889-6

  ©Copyright Flora Dain 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2015

  Edited by Jamie D. Rose

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Melting and a Sexometer of 3.

  Suiting Saffina

  TAMING SAFFINA

  Flora Dain

  Book one in the Suiting Saffina series

  When an heiress runs wild, her stern guardian comes back from abroad to take the whip hand…

  A willful heiress is taken in hand when her guardian, the disgraced Earl of Endale, returns from abroad to find her a husband and launch her into society. With a reputation as dark as his allure, she finds his discipline both exotic and exciting. To her delight, his instruction includes strict and detailed attention to pleasure. She’s fiercely attracted, but when he probes her past, she soon vows to resist. Her heart lies elsewhere, and she means to marry handsome Sir Nigel, her clean-living neighbor and friend. But to her dismay, she finds Sir Nigel has doubts. He suspects her untamed sexuality is due to the Earl’s evil influence. Concerned for her safety and her status, Sir Nigel insists she must be tamed and warns she risks losing both his love and her place in society. He attempts a bold rescue, but now she must choose—respectability or a life of delicious sin?

  Chapter One

  “Come back here. Bring me grog, damn your eyes.” He’s shouting now.

  I’m under the table. Through the open window I hear voices.

  “What, a child’s with him? How old? Eight, you say? Why no nurse?”

  “Nobody goes near. The stink’s too bad. All that pain…”

  They’re talking about me.

  The grog was heavy. I dropped the jug.

  If I press my hands on my ears, I can’t hear his screams.

  I was halfway across the lawns when I knew for certain what I wanted—Isaac’s cock. All of it. So instead of making for the fountains to cool off, I headed to the stables for extra heat.

  Isaac tended the horses. At this hour he’d be up in the hayloft, shoveling forkfuls of fragrant hay so there’d be great heaps of it for us to roll in when he pushed up my skirts…perfect.

  And I was halfway up the ladder to the hayloft when I heard Madame’s shout.

  “Lady Saffina? Come back ’ere now. Espèce d’une jeune putain...”

  Really, such language. She was in hot pursuit—almost as hot as mine. She’d found me feeling myself once too often.

  And why not, pray? I was eighteen. I could do what I liked. Yet she still thought a good caning would cool me down.

  How little she knew…

  Her canings were the best thing about her. She applied them often and well. The very thought of them made me wet and left me dripping. In fact, it was when she first noticed my damp linens that she started getting creative. Then the dampness got worse…and the canings got worse.

  It was impossible to resist the urge to feel myself afterward. And when she caught me doing that…

  But all that did was make me crave… What? I’d no clear idea. But out here in the stables I had a clear picture of what I craved. It was hot and hard and thick and looked very like Isaac’s cock, that day I found him fisting himself in the barn and he’d reddened and jerked his hand away.

  I liked Isaac. He was tanned and tough with sun-bleached hair and a ready laugh. We’d been friends for a while. He was a few years older than me. He taught me much—how to groom and saddle up horses, how to ride.

  He knew his place. He never made advances, but I wished he would. And now I made instinctively for his strong protective arms and his eager, thrusting maleness.

  That was what I wanted. I was sure of it now.

  And this time I’d make sure I got it.

  But now Madame was after me full tilt, shrieking like a parrot in her native French. Just as well, if I heard her right. She’d never dare call me a whore in English.

  But what I wanted was Isaac. And now here he was, skimming down the ladder to meet me. His breeches already bulged with everything I needed…

  And I was on the point of launching into his arms when the far door flew open. Madame dashed in, the thin cane quivering in her hand.

  “Isaac. Save me.” I clutched at his sleeve.

  In a flash he took in every detail of my torn gown, my bulging, heaving breasts, one loose and exposed from running. He caught me up, his bold blue eyes dancing, his blond hair all tousled from the hay. His cock already part way out of his breeches flap…

  He knew instantly what I craved.

  But now here was Madame, about to spoil everything.

  And I was just going to snap at her that I was too old for a governess when I saw a look pass between them. In a flash I saw myself at their mercy—Isaac’s cock and Madame’s cane. Yes…

  I stood, breathless and panting in his arms. My trussed-up skirts showed my stinging backside. The long red welt she’d planted there before I’d bolted still burned my ass.

  As she came closer, her tongue darted along her thin lips, scarlet and snake-like. Her black eyes burned into mine. “You disgrace yourself, Lady Saffina. You will go to bed early and receive a severe whipping to correct your behavior. We start now. Hold ’er, Isaac. Push ’er down, so.”

  “You can’t do this,” I snapped, still shaky from running. My protest melted already at the thought of how good this would feel. Especially with Isaac pounding into me afterward…

  “You are a monster, Madame. Wait till my guardian hears of this. I’ll tell him the minute he gets here.”

  Her black eyes narrowed to slits. Her venomous look made her sallow face look even more like a snake’s.

  Her voice lowered to a snarl. “Oh, your guardian will know. Rest assured. And you will not disgrace me by behaving like a putain every time my back is turned. He expects to find you a lady. In the six months since I come ’ere, you grow wild. If you cannot control your indecent lusts, they must be controlled for you. I daresay ’is lordship will agree.”

&nbs
p; I snorted and glanced downward, thrilling to a glimpse of Isaac’s swelling cock. It glowed in a shaft of warm sunshine as he held me fast. I could almost feel it throb.

  But Madame had jerked up her head, listening for something. A second later I heard it too. The jingle of harness. Some commotion out in the yard. Shouts and the clatter of hooves.

  Yet more deliveries? Food, furniture, servants—there’d been no end to it. The preparations for my guardian’s arrival had been going on for weeks.

  I snorted again, wishing the woman would leave. I wanted to get Isaac into the hay.

  We’d talked about this often. He’d told me how it would feel, even how much it would hurt. All that did was excite me more. I hardly cared. I’d take whatever he gave.

  I was sick of being a girl. I wanted to be a real woman. Today was the day, and I was damned if I’d let her spoil it, my first breach at the hands—or should I say the tool—of my friend and favorite groom.

  I glared at her. “My guardian? Why should I care what some shuffling old man thinks about anything? He’ll stink of dust and collect moths. He’s probably deaf. But he’ll make short work of you when he learns how you treat me.”

  Modesty—even I had some—forbade me from listing all the reasons I’d be glad to be rid of her in front of Isaac.

  He was earnest and well built. He’d told me all about stallions and mares, watching with a gleam when I repeated it all back to him. I’d make him tell me all over again, feeling myself with abandon in front of him while he did so. But he might be surprised to learn that Madame knew all about my tastes for worldly pleasures. She also had strict ideas on discipline as a cure. How little she knew…

  Now I sensed another signal pass between them. A shiver ran through me. What were they going to do? In fact, why had she not simply ordered him back to his work and dragged me indoors like she usually did?

  “Now?” Isaac’s cock jerked again.

  I licked my lips, as my wish seemed about to come true. Really? Both together? I saw him grin as he glanced my way, taking in my flushed, open-mouthed stare. But he was talking to Madame, not to me.

  “How about it?”

  She was eyeing him with a thin smile as she fingered the vicious, quivering little cane. “Very well. Hold ’er for me.”

  I tried to pull away in token protest. Too late. Isaac held me fast, his fingers digging into my upper arms. Madame leaned forward and pulled out my other breast. Now both swung free, bulging right under Isaac’s nose.

  I saw his cock twitch again, red and glossy now. Just what I wanted…

  “We’re going to give you a thrashing.” Her low murmur quivered with suppressed fury. “I’ve gone easy on you these last six months. Now you’re a woman you can take punishment like a woman. And when we’ve finished, you will pleasure your groom—on your knees.”

  I writhed in Isaac’s grip, my face dangerously close to his hot, throbbing cock.

  “Easy there, m’lady.” He grinned and jabbed it in my face with an insolent thrust of his hips. “You’ll get plenty of it later. Let Madame do her work.”

  He eyed me with an insolent, open leer. His soft mouth moistened with dribble. His short, fair beard gleamed in a shaft of dust-flecked sunlight.

  My governess glared at me and flexed her cane. It was a deliberate attempt to scare me. To make me wait, ashamed to be a wanton, but all it did was inflame me further.

  Now her stern look worked its usual magic. I felt a twitch of arousal. At the same time, moisture pooled between my legs.

  She bared her teeth as she saw a light, rosy flush dawn over my breasts. “Little ’ussy, even out ’ere. You deserve this.”

  The first slash of her cane made me shriek. The second made me howl. She’d just lifted her hand for a third when a man’s voice, deep and rich, echoed through the barn.

  Instantly my captors froze.

  “Crude, very crude. What are you about?”

  We all turned to stare—Madame, her cane aloft, Isaac, fleshy mouth agape and me, ass high in the air, my spilling breasts flushed with shame. Tears of pain already smarted in the corners of my eyes.

  I gazed, open-mouthed. This was a gentleman—a real one. I’d seen gentlemen sporting the latest fashions in the pages of The Lady’s Magazine, but this was no preening dandy.

  His clothes were plain and his necktie simple. His manner was haughty to the point of arrogance. His imperious air alone proclaimed him a lord. As he walked slowly across the dusty barn floor, his riding boots kicked up motes of dust.

  They sparkled in the sunbeams like floating diamonds.

  My universe shifted.

  He had what I craved and plenty of it. I could see its hard lines clearly as the shaft of sunlight slanted across his buckskins.

  At that moment his eyes locked on mine with a gleam. He knew. He knew what I craved, as sure as if I’d said it out loud.

  Madame lowered the cane and dropped a deep curtsey. Isaac dropped my arms, hastily buttoned himself and touched his forelock. I struggled to balance, my breasts finally sealing my shame by jerking free of my gown and glowing a rich, rosy pink. Ignoring them, I straightened up, pushed back my hair and lifted my chin.

  A vain attempt to look dignified, but I was a lady, after all—by rank, if not deed.

  Madame took charge. “Bonjour, monseigneur. Soyez le bienvenu. Welcome home, my lord. We did not expect you so soon. This is—”

  “Thank you, Madame Junot. I know who it is. And…Isaac, is it? I hear good reports of your work. Now leave us. I’d like a few moments alone with my ward.”

  I gaped like a landed fish. “You are my guardian?”

  His eyes narrowed. As the others scuttled past him, he murmured something to Isaac.

  With a scared, shifty look, the groom hoisted a length of coarse rope from a newel post. He dropped it at the newcomer’s feet and made for the door.

  It swung to with a deafening crash.

  The noise echoed off the wooden beams then silence fell. Hay-scented warmth settled around us like a blanket.

  My guardian stooped in a graceful curve, scooped up the rope with one hand and walked toward me.

  His deep, rich voice flowed around me like melting chocolate. “It’s customary to address me as sir. When you get to know me better, you’ll use it without being reminded. And for your information, much of my collection is still on the road, but thankfully free of moth.”

  He stepped up close, tipped up my chin with his free hand and smiled deeply into my eyes. His touch felt warm and firm. His fingers smelled clean. For a fleeting second I caught a whiff of chypre from his firm, clean-shaven jaw, and mingled with it, the faintest hint of an aroma from his skin—something male.

  At the same moment I felt the rasp of hemp as he wound a rough length of rope around one of my wrists. He reached behind me to secure it to the other and swiftly fastened both my wrists at my back.

  “And now for a short, sharp lesson in manners.”

  Chapter Two

  “Come here, brat. You’re how old? Ten? Old enough to do what you’re told, damn you. Fetch me grog. The pain burns again…”

  In seconds he’d roped me securely to the hayloft ladder. I was bent double, stooping almost to the floor, arms hauled back.

  “Spread your legs.”

  “Why?” Rage made me bold.

  His boot jabbed at my ankle

  “Ow.” With a yelp I parted wide. “You are a monster, sir. This is no way to treat a lady.”

  “Quite right.” His voice sounded husky.

  He’s laughing?

  “If you behaved like one, I should treat you very differently. As it is…” He trailed off as he pulled up my skirts and leaned over to inspect Madame’s handiwork.

  After a short silence, he gave out a long, juddering breath.

  I waited, heart sinking. My bravado leached away.

  I knew very well who he was. His crest was carved in stone, scored in the silver, etched on the crystal and gilded on all the
books in the library. Here, in his great ancestral home where I lived, he was as much a part of my life as the elegant parkland views from my sitting room.

  But far more remote.

  Jacquard Forsley, fifth Earl of Endale, was my guardian. Until today, we’d never met.

  I hailed from a rundown estate on the far side of the county. I’d lost my parents and most of my family as a child. I first heard his name at the age of fourteen, when the family lawyer had brought me to live here.

  The earl lived mostly abroad, with property in Europe and mining interests in the East Indies. To me, he was as distant as the king.

  Now, as he carefully inspected my blushing, exposed rear, I racked my brains to recall what I could. He lived abroad for good reason—some scandal involving one too many mistresses and a duel. Now he was back for a brief spell to launch me into society and, I gathered, arrange a suitable marriage.

  Ha. I’d soon see about that. He’d soon find out that Lady Saffina Wilby knew her own mind. My marriage plans were well in hand. His could go hang.

  I meant to marry my neighbor. Handsome, wholesome Sir Nigel Somers, baronet, was the only man for me.

  I’d settled on him years before. I’d schemed and dreamed and flirted at parties. And very soon he’d make me an offer. I was sure of it. He was on the point of proposing. All it needed was a walk in the moonlight, a clasp at a dance, a stolen kiss…

  “Beautiful.”

  I jerked back to attention as Lord Endale’s words purred through me, scattering my thoughts. I was about to make a lively retort when all at once I felt his hand. It smoothed over my bottom, warm as honey. A shaft of pure pleasure shot through me. What a touch…