“Stand up.”
She did not think she could. Her knees were far too wobbly. But she tried. He supported her and led her, blind, across the room. He fiddled with something and then she felt a tug. Her arms rose over her head until she stood nearly on her tiptoes.
“Edward?” A quivering whisper.
“Hush, darling.” He patiently unbuttoned her bodice until it fell about her waist. “I’m not Edward. I’m a highwayman, remember?”
“W-what shall I call you?”
He stilled. She felt his presence behind her, his warmth, his breath, his intensity. “You know what I like to be called.”
She shuddered.
“Say it.” A low hiss.
“S-sir?”
“Ah.” She knew she’d pleased him. She could hear it in his voice.
“Please Sir?”
His chuckle was tight. “Don’t tease me now, Kaitlin—I mean, Fiona.”
“T-tease you?”
“Yes, darling.” As he spoke, he pulled up the back of her skirts and somehow secured them up about her waist. She shivered when he pulled up the front as well. “If you call me ‘Sir’ too many times, I may just lose control.”
A naughty imp whispered that would not be too awful—until he continued.
“It would displease me to end this too quickly.” He leaned in and whispered, “You wouldn’t want to displease me, would you?”
“N-no Sir.”
In response, a sharp lash fell on her exposed bottom. She lurched forward. This was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Not a quirt—a crop perhaps? It was thin and supple and the crack stung. She couldn’t hold back her cry.
“Did you like that?”
Even as he asked the question, the sting warmed to something unbearably pleasant, leaving only an ache—but it was an ache for more.
“Yes Sir.”
“Excellent.”
He moved away once more. She heard him rummaging about in the armoire. She shook with the realization that he was hunting for something she had not seen.
“Spread your legs.”
She pressed her thighs together and shook her head.
“Come, Fiona. Don’t be disobedient.”
She shook her head again.
He sighed. Kaitlin thought she caught a hint of satisfaction in his tone.
“Do you know what I have in my hand?”
“No. Sir.”
“A very interesting little invention. For women just like you, Fiona.” He tied something around her leg, just above the knee. It felt like a garter. Then he kicked her legs apart and did the same to the other.
To her horror, she realized she could not bring her legs together. No matter how much she struggled.
Though she was blindfolded, she felt the heat of his gaze upon her. She certainly heard the noise he made deep in his throat as he watched.
A mind-melting excitement sizzled through her. She was bound. Blindfolded. Helpless. And her legs were tied apart.
“W-what are you going to d-do?”
“Hmm.” He’d gone back to the bed. When he returned she felt something cold and smooth nudge against her slit. He rubbed it along, dampening it, nudging at her aching button. She shuddered. “Don’t come, now. Fiona. You remember Asha’s training? She wasn’t allowed to come without permission.”
But—
“Fiona never read those books.”
An ominous silence descended.
A shark crack filled the room even as a heat the exact size and shape of his hand flooded her bottom. “Firstly, don’t talk back. Secondly, we are going to assume that Fiona has, indeed, read those books. And I wasn’t lying about that gag, my dear.”
“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t. Not really. But he did expect her to play along. And she really—really—wanted to know where this was going. Needed to know.
For the illustrations, of course. She needed to know so she could create this scene in glorious detail.
“Now. At the risk of repeating myself, you may not come.” This he said even as something—that cold, hard, slick object—eased up into her cavern. Her body clenched in reaction. Rejection of the invasion, perhaps. Or, perhaps not.
It felt strange. Uncomfortable. Large.
“Hold it in.” He gave it an extra push.
“Edward—”
Another crack, but this time, not his hand. It was the crop again. She flinched.
“But I can’t!” Whatever it was, it was heavy. And slick. And each time her body seized, it seemed to slip out another notch.
“You must. If it falls out, I will assume you are asking for,” his voice lowered to an ominous tone, “a punishment.”
She whimpered and tried to tighten her hold. The phallus slipped out.
His response was immediate. Three quick lashes on her bottom in a crisscross pattern, causing her flesh to burn. Then he shoved the thing back in.