Copyright © 2007 Kayleigh Jameson
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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Anna heard the riding crop cut through the air a moment before the blow landed on the small of her back. Another struck her, this time lower, followed by a flurry of strikes to her buttocks and the soles of her feet. Her eyes filled with tears, and she cried out; the pain radiated outwards from her abused flesh and warmed her skin.
"Why?" she shrieked, the harsh surface of the rope cutting into her wrists as she attempted to twist out of his reach.
"Why?" Vere repeated, slightly out of breath from the exertion.
"I did what you asked, milord!"
"You did," he confirmed as the crop landed with another thwack, "you did very well."
"Then I don't understand!" The tears ran freely now, cooling her flushed cheeks and splashing onto her breasts, her breathing erratic and labored.
"Your job here is what?" he asked patiently, circling around to face her. He removed his shirt, and she took in the sight of his strong, muscled arms, the crafted perfection of his chest. Even bound and at his complete mercy, she found him heartbreakingly attractive. The tongue of the crop touched her chin and lifted her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. He traced her jaw with the slip of leather, but paused to brush a strand of hair from her eyes.
"To obey you, milord," she whispered.
"Yes, and what else?"
"To please you, milord."
"Precisely. And it pleases me to see you this way, sweet Rose." This time, the crop dipped lower over the swell of her breasts. He traced one nipple, then the other. The pebbled flesh tightened traitorously, causing her to shiver. "Does it not please you as well?"
"N-no, milord," she stammered. Liar, her heart whispered.
Vere leaned forward and murmured in her ear, "It will."