Knight's Mistress by C. C. Gibbs Read Free Book Online Page A

won’t go docilely like a lamb to the slaughter. I won’t! You hear!’ She brooded for a moment, then hotly declared, ‘Fie on Richmond and his grubby money! I shall give
you
my maidenhead, darling Ned.’
    The young man looked startled. He wasn’t the callous seducer generally portrayed in Victorian tales. ‘You have to be sure,’ he quietly said.
    ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes! And darling,’ she gaily declared, ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ever!’
    He still looked grave. ‘This is more than kisses.’
    She waltzed over to him, patently joyful, and held out her hands. ‘I know that. This will be my sweet revenge on them all.’
    Rising from his chair, the handsome young man took her hands in his, raised them to his mouth, brushed her fingers with his lips and the sweetest of seductions commenced: both actors young and beautiful, their slowundressing – he helping her and she him – a languid, tantalizing production accomplished with deft show-manship. Once they were nude, he caressed her shapely form in all the ways meant to arouse, kissing her mouth, her neck, her showy breasts, her virgin cleft. When she was flushed all warm and pink, Ned eased her back onto the chaise, slid between her legs, and with an expertise admired at least by the females in the audience, brought little Liza to a rapturous orgasm.
    It was clear that the actors had been cast in their roles for reasons over and above their acting skills. Ned was all magnificent male, handsome, virile and in terms of performance art, his erection was truly star quality. For her part, Lady Liza was stunning, voluptuous as Venus, and clearly of a passionate nature.
    After the initial consummation, Ned was lying on the chaise, cradling Liza in his arms when, in lieu of the usual pillow talk, she casually said, ‘Abby tells me you have whips.’
    He glanced down. ‘Does she now?’
    Liza lifted her gaze to him and smiled. ‘She says she likes what you do with them.’
    ‘You’re not Abby Childers.’
    Liza suddenly sat up, a little pout on her lips. ‘I
might
like it.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘That’s not very nice.’ A spoiled young lady acting spoiled.
    ‘Come, darling,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Abby Childers likes to be tortured.’
    A wide-eyed look. ‘Tortured?’
    ‘There, you see, you don’t want that.’
    She nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment. ‘You could just whip me a
little
.’
    He softly sighed. ‘If I do, is this conversation over?’
    ‘Yes, yes, of course.’
    ‘Very well.’ He pointed. ‘In that drawer over there. Bring me one of the whips.’
    She leaped up and a moment later was back. ‘Will this one do?’ She held out a red leather quirt from which hung three knotted strands of black braided silk.
    ‘That one’s fine. It won’t leave marks.’
    She half turned and glanced back at the bureau.
    ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he muttered, ‘or I’ll send you home. It’s not a competition.’ Reaching out, he took the whip from her, rose from the chaise and helped her lean over the chaise so she was face down over the curved back. Then he tied her hands to the wooden legs, raising her pink bottom into a perfect target.
    ‘I intend to make this unpleasant.’ He lifted his arm. ‘I don’t want you to ask me to do this again. You’re not Abbey Childers.’ He brought the whip down with a crack.
    A gasp went up in the crowd as the lash struck the lady’s plump flesh.
    Another when she cried out. Then another and another as the young man wielded his whip and the lady shriekedand moaned. Ignoring her cries, he smacked her soft rump, the inside of her thighs, the pink pouty lips of her sex – those blows in particular eliciting little frenzied screams that soon morphed into frantic whimpers.
    Was she really in pain? Kate wondered. Would he stop if she was?
    Kate forced herself not to openly gasp but it was impossible to stem her feverish reaction to the lady’s punishment. She was wildly aroused, desire coiling