Taming Saffina Read online

  At last he straddled the arms of the chair with his thighs and unfastened his trouser flap. With infinite tenderness he stooped and kissed me lightly on the forehead then full on the lips, his mouth so gentle that I felt tears sting.

  “Now you must suck me to completion. And while you do it, you may finger yourself.”

  His quiet command was so natural that I obeyed at once. My submission felt natural too—a simple token of thanks for this unexpected gift of release. As I licked and swallowed him, working rapidly along his scorching shaft to speed him to fulfillment, I reached down to my distended clit. With an ecstatic flurry of my fingers, I made myself come again and again. I paused only when his cock stilled in my mouth and he flooded my tongue.

  It was a while before he untied me and let me stand up. I was so limp I slumped in his arms. Once more he carried me to my room. He washed me, wiped my face, unpinned my hair and put me to bed without once calling Madame or my maids.

  All the while I gazed up at him gratefully, not daring to break the spell by asking how he knew how to do this or how often he’d done it before.

  He sat by me till I fell asleep.

  * * * *

  Over the next few days, I learned fast. In our more serious moments, Jacquard explained the essentials of housekeeping and how to assess the worth of estates and also of individuals. I learned that many fine gentlemen used the trappings of wealth, like liveried servants and fine carriages, to cover a mountain of debts and lure unwary heiresses.

  We toured nearby mansions to look at fine paintings, porcelain and gardens. And at night we explored the realms of pleasure—some painful, all arousing.

  The Jade Room even featured in my dreams. I would wake in the darkness, fingering myself to a frenzy of orgasm. Like as not he’d be sitting on my bed, watching. And later, in the Jade Room, he’d remind me of my sinful pleasuring in painful, exquisite detail.

  Hiding all trace of our activities from servants and visitors became a vital part of our game and was just as exciting. Every burning look, every chance remark or even a whispered command would send me into a fever of arousal, wondering how and when he would pounce.

  Meanwhile, plans were in hand for my ball, where he hoped to secure some firm offers for my hand.

  After that, he’d return to the continent.

  I took little interest in other suitors or my future. I was still set on Nigel and sure I’d get him. Nigel was easy. Practically mine already. Why go after another?

  Day and night I was consumed with Jacquard and his extraordinary power over me. His look alone could turn me to jelly. When he left a room, it cooled. When he came back in, it glowed again.

  Our sessions together were passionate, heady. He filled me with fire. I vowed to resist.

  I told myself to use my head. He was far older than me, experienced. Beyond the allure of his rank and his stunning looks, he had no real magic. He simply knew how to play me. He had a lifetime’s experience of women. He must find me an easy tune.

  It was my ambition—nay, my duty—to resist. I’d prove to him my will was my own, even if he commanded my body.

  I teased him as often as I could. The simplest way was to flirt with other men. For some reason—and to my constant joy—this enraged him. But why?

  Surely he meant to find me a husband?

  When I flirted, all I did was lay some of the groundwork. How could he possibly find fault?

  * * * *

  I took full advantage one day when Nigel called by with some friends. I fluttered and simpered, pleased he’d come and hoping to make him regret making up to that gawky Lady Susan.

  For a while Jacquard watched us in moody silence. Finally he made his excuses and left me with Nigel and his friends, a young captain from his regiment and two female relatives. It was easy to persuade them to walk in the gardens. The grounds at Endale Hall are famous for their beauty.

  Soon I had Nigel alone in the herb garden.

  “You never take advantage of a pretty girl these days, sir?” I leaned in close and batted my lashes, but all in vain. He’d talk of nothing but farming. At last I lost patience.

  These days Jacquard kept me primed white-hot with sensuality. That morning he’d taken me over his knee and spanked me to within a whisker of climax then made me promise not to touch myself. I was still twitching with arousal.

  For an instant I gave Nigel the full force of it as I rubbed sensuously against him and kissed him openly on the cheek. At that moment my low-cut gown caught on a twig and exposed most of my bosom.

  Nigel gasped, clearly shocked. “By Jove, Saffina. You torment a man.” He fell on me, his mouth clumsy but eager. Soon he’d filled his eager hands with both breasts.

  I glanced round to see if Jacquard was watching then pulled away with a loud stage giggle. “Nigel, really.”

  But Nigel was staring down at my breasts. “Deuce, Saffina. What are those marks?”

  “Marks? Oh, nothing.” Hastily I covered myself.

  Nigel was pale, his passion forgotten, his jaw set. He glared at me, his expression grim. “Tell me, Saffina. What’s that blackguard been doing to you?”

  Chapter Eight

  At dinner that evening Jacquard was moody. When I asked about the plans for my ball, he grunted. When I praised his recent spectacular wins at cards, he snapped it was not women’s business.

  “You made it the business of all our neighbors.” I sucked my finger playfully, hoping to catch his eye. “Nigel and his circle talked of little else.”

  At last he pushed back his chair. “You like him?”

  “I’ve always liked him.” But I winced as I recalled Nigel’s shock at seeing my breasts. Surely he was not that priggish? I took another petit four from the silver platter on the table and sprang to his defense. “Anyway, he’s everything you’re not.”

  “Meaning?”

  Jacquard’s dour look made me throb, but I rallied. “He’s honest, respectable and kind to his aunts. And he’s sensible to avoid playing cards with you. He’d be sure to lose.”

  Jacquard’s nostrils flared with disdain. “If he never plays, he’ll never know. He’s pleasant enough, but too tame for you.”

  I tossed my head with a pout. “At least he’s a gentleman.”

  His sudden stillness should have warned me I was playing with fire. I was too indignant to heed it.

  Jacquard signaled for the port, his voice low. “And I’m not?”

  I floundered. Before Lord Endale had cannoned into my life, Nigel had been all I wanted. I’d no special wish to marry but I knew I must. All women had to or starve—even heiresses. And Nigel seemed perfect. Why waste effort looking elsewhere with someone so eligible at hand? He practically lived next door.

  I’d simply assumed we’d wed.

  But I had to admit that Jacquard, disgraced or no, had something about him way beyond anything I’d ever imagined.

  Did it come from his rank? Hardly. His arrogance was inborn, not just from his title. His looks? Hardly his fault. Or was it some mysterious power that stemmed from his will?

  In his presence women melted, men sulked. Naturally he drew me too. How could he not? His dark allure was impossible to ignore.

  But I’d vowed to resist and so far I’d succeeded. He controlled my fate and my person but my girlish affections were still my own. And I’d give them where I pleased.

  I lifted my chin, fierce now, but out of my depth. This time I’d challenged his honor. Now I saw—to my dismay—that he took me seriously. The angry glint in his eyes demanded I back up my rash statement with hard evidence.

  Luckily I had plenty to call on. “Your reputation offends all society, sir. Far more than all the little faults you claim to find in me.”

  The silence between us grew heavier. What is this? Had I gone too far?

  “The Jade Room. Ten minutes.” His dark look made my heart leap—partly in relief. We’re still at play…

  I rose to my feet, bobbed him an insolent curtsey and left w
ith a superior smile.

  Once more I’d goaded him to rage.

  Once more he was determined to make me pay. And with luck, my payment will end in transports of pleasure…

  * * * *

  “Tonight you’ll learn to keep silent. You may have a skillful tongue, but lately you make too free with it.” He was tapping a riding crop against his polished boot. The snap of the leather made me pulse.

  Thrillingly, I noticed the Jade Room was already prepared. He’d planned this even before we’d dined and my hasty tongue had put him out of temper.

  Flickering light from the candles gleamed faintly on the polished wood and the imposing jade ornaments. Or were they ornaments?

  One was a tall, bulbous sculpture tapered at the top and pinched in at the base. Another clearly a phallus, the dark jade column veined with paler green in the flickering light. Its polished, bulging head was a poor copy of Jacquard’s own glorious manhood but it still looked seductive, its smooth gleam good enough to lick.

  They were decorative, surely? But if they had a purpose…was it for pleasure or pain? Or both?

  I’d been commanded to strip. My gown and shift lay in a frilly heap across the floor. I was naked, save for my dainty heeled slippers. It seemed he found the effect pleasing.

  “Now bend over. Your behavior today has earned you a whipping.” A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth. He looked magnificent, tall and solemn—dominant.

  Excitement flaring, I braced like Madame had taught me, leaning my hands near my ankles and spreading my legs wide. He refined my position with sharp snaps of the whip on my inner thighs until it was hard to balance. But I knew he was testing my patience—to see if I’d fail.

  My will redoubled. I’d endure whatever he demanded.

  “Twelve strokes. You must count each one.”

  The blows were harsh, his touch as sure as flashes of flame. The process of reaching this point had already fired my arousal to aching point. Now each stinging stroke jolted me closer to release as the pain made me burn and the strain made me tremble. At one point I stumbled, afraid I’d topple.

  He paused and waited in silence while I regained position. “Two extra strokes for breaking rhythm.”

  The last two were the harshest, but now I was all on fire, eager for more. I waited breathlessly, staring at the floor, trying to hide the intense satisfaction building inside me as the fierce heat on my rear settled into a steady, golden glow.

  But he was in no hurry. As he moved about the room, he spoke casually, his tone light. “I saw you in the garden this afternoon showing Somers your tits. You throw yourself at every man you meet? Or just grooms and neighbors? Tell me. I’m interested.”

  I bridled. “The groom and I were once playmates. And Nigel and I are almost engaged. It’s been long understood.”

  Jacquard drew in a sharp breath.

  “And before you lose your temper,” I went on quickly, “the display was by accident and he was gentleman enough to be shocked.”

  Jacquard’s nostrils flared. “So I should think. Your antics may be amusing, but they’re hardly likely to improve your standing locally. From now on, you’ll endure in silence. Kneel.”

  As I sank to my knees, my rear end glowing, he took up the tapered jade object and held it to my lips. I flinched away and saw his eyes gleam.

  “Lick the end. Take it in your mouth.”

  He pushed it in and worked it round, filling my mouth. I gazed helplessly up at him, surprised to see his intent expression. At the same time, the bulge at his trouser flap gave a distinct twitch. He looked to be painfully erect and from the heat in his eyes, close to spending.

  The obscene jade filled my mouth, unforgiving and cold, pressing down on my tongue. As my jaw stretched wide over the bulge, the flared base clamped firmly over my lips, compelling me to silence.

  “Very nice. Now we’ll work on your tits. Lean back.”

  With my mouth too full to protest, I leaned back, mute and helpless as he kneaded my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers and pinching hard.

  Silent tears smarted at the corners of my eyes as my sensitive, trembling aureoles glowed with new heat, blending into the fiery glow from my backside. Soon my nipples were hard as nuts, jutting between his fingertips as he continued to press them, tweaking them out and pinching.

  He was smiling now. “You think me cruel? I’m simply preparing them, as any good Master should. You’re going to wear these.”

  Holding up his finger and thumb, he dangled two tiny brackets of jade and silver. At first I took them for elaborate ear-bobs. It seemed they were not for ears.

  “I’m going to screw these onto your tits. Not too tight to start with.”

  He fixed them in place on my tender, sensitized nipples. I writhed as the little screws bit into my jutting, rosy nubs. Soon the stings eased. They grew numb—whether from the tiny, exquisite darts of pain in each or from my confusion at this new feeling, I could hardly tell. The jade drops were heavy. They pulled on my swollen breasts and made them ache.

  My guardian smiled, his dark eyes liquid heat. “Since you flaunt them so willingly to your neighbors, you can now display them for me. You’ll take four lashes on them as punishment for this afternoon.”

  The leather strands slid through his fingers as he drew the flogger slowly over his palm then, without warning, he snapped the forest of lashes hard across my heaving breasts. “One. And next time you flirt with your lout of a neighbor, take care I don’t see you or this will be a fond memory compared to what you’ll get then. Two.”

  The third made me buck. At the fourth, I swayed. He steadied me by the shoulders with a look of alarm. “Easy, Saffina. Breathe deeply. You’ve earned another for breaking my stroke.”

  In truth I was wide-eyed and overcome, not by his relentless onslaught but by the sensations pounding through me from my tormented breasts and my glowing, burning backside. Arousal scorched through me, made worse by the shame of this awful thing filling my mouth.

  Down below I was throbbing incessantly, each pulse a direct response to his blows, leaving me loose with arousal, forever denied. If only I could come…

  “Delicious. Now for some fun.”

  He led me over to le siège de plaisir, his look fond, and slowly withdrew the jade monstrosity from my lips. “Now you will bend over and pleasure the seat.”

  And with a wave of dismay, I realized just how high a price I’d pay for my rash flirtation. His expression was dark and purposeful.

  He made me bend low and spread my legs. I felt the jade object probe my backside. It slid in easily, warm and wet from my mouth, my tightly furled little opening melting like wax in the hot lust suffusing my belly. He moved it in and out a couple of times. Then, tantalizingly, he removed it.

  Now what?

  My bud stiffened, pebble-hard. It throbbed with my looming climax.

  I felt his hand on my back, pushing me down.

  “Keep your legs straight. I want to see you form a graceful curve.”

  I struggled to obey as he continued his relentless pressure. “Lower. Take the horn in your mouth. All the way.”

  As the horn phallus surged up into my face, I yawned open my throat to take it. But I was puzzled. How could this give him pleasure when his manhood was still free? It was eager enough. I could feel it batting my thighs, hot and unsatisfied. How would he use it?

  A second later he murmured again and I had my answer. “And now for your shame, my sweet.”

  I felt the head of something pushing up between my legs. But where I’d expected the head of his hot, burning cock, all I felt was cold, hard stone. The jade phallus?

  “This goes in here.”

  I whimpered a protest.

  “You expected mine? Too bad. I have other plans for it.” His low chuckle made me shudder.

  I writhed as he pushed in first the tall, chilly stone shaft, so like his living, pulsing cock yet so cold and unfeeling. I was so aroused by now that it slid
right in, its hard, unforgiving girth practically an insult. The tapered, moistened plug he eased carefully into my other place. I was filled and invaded everywhere, impaled, humiliated and hungry.

  “A whipping now, to seal your shame.”

  There was a rush of air on my burning ass as he took up the flogger again and let fly. The lashes fell hard and fast and continuous on both cheeks of my burning bottom as he snapped his wrist back and forth.

  With my lower half stretched wide with both ornaments, I’d never felt so humiliated. Impaled by my mouth on the horn shaft, my lips touching the wood of the seat, my sole comfort was that I could see nothing, but I felt the motion of his wrist right enough. His fast breathing and the swish of the flailing leather told me the rest. The hot glow from behind warned me my rear end was red enough to blush for me.

  At last he stopped, panting. The whip clattered to the floor like a clutch of spent snakes as he caressed my searing bottom. “Now for my payment. Hold the position.”

  His touch was surprisingly gentle as he eased the awful plug out of my rump. For a long second I felt cold air in my loosened, lively little opening. My relief was short-lived. He pushed the hot, pulsing head of his cock hard against my tiny place, usually rosebud-tight but now slick with lotion and slack with use. With a grunt he entered, pausing every few moments to let me settle around him. He kept on pushing, relentless and steady. Soon he was all the way in.

  The feeling was extraordinary, his member burning hot in my backside after the cold, dead stone. But now he completed my shame. Leaving the jade phallus firmly in place deep in my regular passage, his living member now filling my rump, he started to move, slowly at first then gradually faster until he was thrusting his all.

  I’d never felt so full. I thought I should erupt from the pressure. But my real shame was not from his assault, outrageous though it was. It was from my pleasure in it. Every jolt fired spurts of flame, sending shock waves of arousal through me till I was burning up.