His Dark Obsession (11 page)

“No! Don’t! Please, I don’t want it,” pleaded Sarah. Frightened as the feelings of pleasure overtook the pain. There was a delicious tightening in her middle. His cock pounded into her swollen flesh…filling her…using her…dominating her mind and body.

Pierce chuckled. “Yes you do, little one.” He pinched her clit, causing Sarah to howl with tormented exultation. “I’ll show you how just how much,” he whispered in her ear before giving it a quick nip.

Shifting his left hand to her lower back, he placed his thumb at the top of her bottom cleft. Then slowly gliding forward, he pressed the tip of his thumb against her puckered back passage. Tracing each subtle ridge, testing its resistance. He pushed, forcing the tip past her unyielding ring of muscle.

“Oh god! Stop! No! Ow…ow…ow,” sobbed Sarah.

Knowing without anything to slick her passage, he could tear her delicate rosebud but still wanting her to feel the threat of his mastery. Keeping the tip of his thumb buried to the knuckle pressing into her back passage, he lifted his hand up, hooking her.

“Ow! Oh…ow…please,” she whimpered not liking the sensation of having him touch such a darkly forbidden place.

Pierce ignored her pleas as he drove faster and stronger into her body. Holding her hips steady with his right hand on her mons and his left thumb pressed into her bottom, his thrusts increased with intensity. Knowing he was close, Pierce increased the pressure on her clit, swirling the pad of his finger in ever-tighter circles.

Flashes of white light. The hollow sound of her shallow breathing. Clenched muscles. The rough scratch of his jaw against her shoulder blade as he leaned in close, thrusting to the hilt. The feel of his hands…everywhere. Sarah stopped fighting and gave in to the roiling emotions and sensations overwhelming her. There was a tense moment of pressure. The sharp inhale of breath. A tightening of her grip on the leather loops before the sweet, warm glow of lethargy as the sweet feel of release flowed over her skin.

Pierce felt her body clench and then release around his cock. Knowing she had found her release, he drove into her now willing body several more times before finding his own release. Throwing his head back with a feral howl, he buried his cock deep into her sweet heat.

Sarah fell forward her head resting on the soft seat opposite them. Dizzy from the power of her release and the harsh, quickening of her own breath.

Pierce gathered her close. Her body cradled in the warmth of his powerful embrace. Brushing back the thick black curls shielding her face, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Rapping his knuckles on the roof of the carriage, signaling to the coachman it was time to return home, Pierce nuzzled her neck as he whispered in her ear, “We have to get you covered up, my little minx, that is until I get you behind closed doors.”

Sarah allowed him to adjust the pink drape till it covered her modestly. Using a long ribbon from her hair, he replaced the ribbon belt securing the fabric around her waist. This allowed her hair to fall down her back in a tousled, wanton mass. Pierce fisted a handful, bringing the silken tresses close to his face, breathing in the soft lavender scent of her soap. As much as he enjoyed her up swept hair and how it showed off her slender neck, he much preferred it tangled and down, proof of their lovemaking.

The carriage came to a slow halt. Sarah’s cheeks burned. His touch made her forget they were in a carriage with a coachman and all of London an arm’s length away.

Not waiting for the door to be opened, Sarah grasped the brass handle and wrenched it open herself. Quickly alighting, she planned to make a dash for Mrs. Needham’s green door. Surprised, she found herself within the stone confines of Lord Warrington’s courtyard at Regent’s Park.

Turning on him as he stepped from the carriage, she accused, “You said you were bringing me home!”

“I did…to my home.”

“But…I…”

Pierce grabbed her upper arm and dragged her up the stone steps. The door opened immediately, the ever-efficient Parker at its side.

“My lord.”

“Tell the cook to send up a tray of fresh ginger root with a knife. Then I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“As you wish,” being Parker’s only response to the odd request.

All Sarah heard was
knife
. Her cheeks only just suffused with color, now turned a pasty white.

Pushing her stocking feet into the plush carpet as she pulled back on her arm she tremulously asked, “What are those for?”

Pierce threw a calculating glance over his shoulder as he headed for the main staircase and his bedroom above.

“Your punishment of course.”

Sarah was dragged through a pair of heavy wooden doors. As the afternoon had waned, the fire was already lit, giving the room a warm, cozy glow. She could just make out the furnishings in the room. There was a central table and a set of gold embroidered upholstered chairs directly in front of the fire. A writing desk flanked by two small bookcases. A chiffonier topped with various cut crystal decanters filled no doubt with brandy and port. A massive wardrobe with a small dressing table adjacent covered with silver backed brushes and combs. Most imposing of all, a massive four-poster bed covered in bolsters and pillows. Every place she looked was rich polished mahogany, elaborate royal blue and gold brocades and silver. Even the ornaments on the mantel looked to be solid silver and Chinese porcelain.

While she was taking the measure of her surroundings, Sarah heard the distinctive metal click of a lock.

Sarah took a few hurried steps over the thick Persian carpet before turning to face Pierce.

Desperately clutching the now hopelessly wrinkled pink drape to her bosom, she warned, “If you try to kill me, I’ll scream!”

Pierce shrugged out of his fitted frock coat, placing it on a hook by the wardrobe.

Moving farther into the room, placing one of the plush fireside chairs between them, she continued, “I mean it! You had better let me go!”

Unbuttoning his waistcoat as he toed off his shoes, her words gave him pause. There was an unmistakable tightening in his chest when he heard the words ‘let me go’.
Let her go?
Never. She needed him. Needed his protection. While that pitiful excuse for a man today would probably not have harmed her, what of the next time? And the next? Mrs. Needham did not strike him as being overly concerned about where she sent her girls as long as there was a fat coin purse in it for her. A life in domestic service would be no better. With her comely face, it would be a matter of hours not even days before the sons of the household tried to force their attentions. There was also the possibility she would simply leave London and return to the Americas. Every scenario which crossed his mind only strengthened his resolve to keep her safe by his side. Well, relatively safe. There would be no protection for her from him and his intentions.

Sarah crept closer to the fire as he was turned away removing his watch and some coins from his trouser pockets. Slowly as to not draw attention to herself, Sarah reached behind her for the fire poker.

“Put that down before you hurt yourself,” he darkly commanded.

The sudden boom of his voice in the quiet bedroom startled Sarah. His back was turned, how could he have known?

Ignoring his command, Sarah picked up the heavy brass poker and stretched her arms out in front. The poker dipped and swayed as she attempted to keep it steady.

“Stay back,” she cried, the fire poker swaying in front of her.

Pierce started to release the buttons down the front of his linen shirt. Taking in the site of his little spirited minx brandishing her burdensome weapon. Pulling the shirt off his shoulders, he tossed it aside and advanced on Sarah.

It wasn’t his broad and powerful chest or his sculpted arms or even his imposing height which alarmed Sarah. No. It was the look in his eyes. His brooding brow lowered. The flinty gleam in his sapphire blue eyes. The dark promise.

“And if I don’t?”

“It’s true! You intend to murder me!” agonized Sarah as she valiantly tried to keep the fire poker at a threatening height before her.

Having no care for the threat she imposed. Pierce prowled forward. Grabbing the poker with his left hand, he gave the instrument a sharp tug, sending Sarah falling into his arms. His right arm wrapped around her tiny waist like a band. Easily pulling the brass handle from her grasp, he tossed it aside. Fisting a handful of her silken curls, Pierce pulled down sharply, forcing her head back.

Looking down at her bright green eyes filling with tears, her full lips open on a gasp, her slender neck exposed and vulnerable, Pierce again wondered at the beautiful contrasts. She was so innocent and yet had the fire and spirit of a wanton.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she entreated.

Running his knuckles over her smooth cheek, his voice deep and husky. “I’m afraid that is not possible little one, you must be punished.”

The tears fell down her cheeks in earnest now.

“However, I can assure you, my American beauty, that murder is the absolute last thing on my mind,” he whispered against her lips before claiming them for his own.

He tasted like brandy and oranges. Moving his mouth over her own, he gently bit her plump bottom lip. She was lost in the feel of his hard body and soft lips.
Did she dare allow herself to fall under his spell? Could she trust him to not truly harm her?

“Open your mouth,” he growled.

Sarah was helpless to resist.

She opened her lips. His tongue plunged inside. Tasting her. Consuming her. The tip swirled around her tongue. It slid along the sharp edge of her teeth. It licked her upper lip, leaving it glistening. He then moved to place open mouth kisses along her jaw, down the slim column of her throat.

“I can taste your heart beat,” he murmured against her skin as he licked the delicate skin at the base of her throat.

Sarah could feel the press of his hand along her side. He removed the ribbon at her waist and pulled on the pink draping. It fell away from her body with a whisper. She was standing in his embrace with only her bloomers, corset and stockings on. Pierce’s hand moved along the curve of her hip, to her lower back and lower. Stretching his long fingers wide, he cupped one perfectly round buttock, giving it a harsh squeeze.

Sarah moved up on her toes in a futile gesture to move away from the bruising pain of his grasp. The movement caused her belly to press against his already aroused shaft. Pierce let out a stifled groan before, once again, claiming her mouth. Squeezing her bottom cheek again, he ground his hips into her own. Letting her feel the powerful length of him.

Sarah whimpered. Her bottom still felt swollen and hot from the carriage spanking. His painful grasp only heightened it.

Pulling away from her mouth, Pierce held her jaw with his left hand. Looking down into her desire glazed eyes, he softly commanded, “Take off your corset.”

Sarah placed her small hands over her bosom. At Pierce’s encouraging nod, she began to slowly unhook the metal eyehooks keeping her corset in place. It was a simple undergarment with no lacing, just silk and whalebone that latched in front for the convenience of woman who did not possess a lady’s maid.

Pierce stepped back and crossed to a large chest at the foot of the bed. Lifting the lid, he extracted a small black box. It was another one of those Brownie cameras. Walking to the large arched window, he drew the curtains open, letting in the rosy glow of the setting sun, bathing Sarah in soft, golden light.

“Don’t move.” His voice sounded low and urgent.

Sarah stopped, her hands lightly resting on her opened corset, only a few hooks remaining.

Pierce looked through the lens at the stunning sight before him. Her black hair a beautiful contrast to her ivory skin. Her beautifully rounded breasts peeking through the silk opening of the corset. You could just see the hint of a nipple. Her small, delicate hands hovering over the final hooks which would relinquish her modesty. The look of fear mingled with desire in her large, expressive eyes.

He released the shutter, capturing the moment.

A simple nod of his head was enough of a command for Sarah to continue. The corset fell away from her body. Her pink-tipped breasts and softly flat belly exposed to his intense scrutiny.

“Now the bloomers.”

“Oh please, it is so…so,”

“The bloomers, Sarah.”

She lowered her head and obeyed. Pierce caught the moment she bent over, the bloomers around her knees, her sweet cunny on display, her long hair hiding her shame-pinked cheeks and averted eyes. Sarah could hear the soft metallic click as he took another photograph. There was something so forbidden, so decadent and so scandalous in allowing him to take such intimate photographs. The thought both excited and frightened her.

“Get on your knees.”

Despite the seductive haze he wove about her with his deep kiss, Sarah still had enough self-resolve to hesitate.

“Get on your knees,” he repeated.

“What are you going to do?” she sniffed.

“On. Your. Knees,” he barked.

Sarah fell to her knees. Her head bowed. She made quite the vision of submission kneeling on the plush carpet in the center of the room between the fire and the bed.

Pierce placed the camera on the table in front of the fire and went to his wardrobe. He returned with a long black silk binding.

Sarah’s face crumbled. Sucking in a quick breath, she begged, “Please don’t tie me up. It frightens me so!”

She was powerless against his superior strength and brawn. Even if she tried to run, she would not get very far. This she knew. If her deep instincts about him were wrong and he truly meant her harm, there was little she could do to protect herself but being tied up made it so much worse.

“Place your arms behind you.”

Sarah covered her face with her hands instead. Crying.

Pierce went down on one knee behind her prone form. Reaching his right arm back, he swiftly brought the flat hard surface of his hand down on her backside. Sarah screeched, falling forward. She immediately returned to her knees and she instinctively reached back to sooth her burning skin. Pierce snatched her wrist. Quickly pulling her other arm back, he had her arms crossed and bound to her lower back.

Snatching a small pillow from the bed, he placed it in front of her before leaning down on his haunches. He slapped first her right breast then the left. Sarah cried out. “Ow! Oh god! It stings!”

Pierce slapped her breasts again, watching as they gently swayed with each contact from his hand. The creamy skin blossoming into a blotchy red handprint.

“Do not make me repeat myself again, little one.”

Sarah nodded trying to swallow her sobs.

There was a discreet knock at the door before the unmistakable sound of a silver tray being placed on the floor. Pierce crossed the room and waited a moment to ensure the hall was clear before opening the door wide enough to bring in the small tray. On it was a large piece of ginger root, a small paring knife and linen towel.

He placed the tray on the central table before the fire, right in line with Sarah’s vision. Picking up the knife, he approached her prone form.

The moment she saw what was in his hand, she couldn’t breathe. All her earlier fears came crashing to the fore.
How could she have been so very foolish?

“Are you familiar with the nursery punishment called figging?” he asked casually.

“What?” responded a confused Sarah, unable to focus on anything but the gleam from the small knife he held.

“Figging. It is a very persuasive punishment usually reserved for those in the nursery, however I feel as though your actions have called for it.”

Was figging some quaint British euphemism for murder? Thought Sarah erratically. No, he said it was used in the nursery. She must stop allowing Elma to recite all those tales of murder and mayhem. They were playing with Sarah’s mind. Of course some powerful lord was not going to up and murder her in broad daylight in the middle of his home! The question now was, what did he have planned?

Strolling to the tray, he picked up the large ginger root. Using the paring knife, he slowly dug past the root’s tough bark exterior to expose the soft, sinew beneath. The air was filled with an aromatic spicy scent. She watched in silence as he carved the root into what looked like a long, thick finger. Placing the knife on the tray, Pierce approached her, still holding the large piece of ginger root.

“Place your forehead on the pillow and arch your bottom into the air,” he ordered.

“What…what are you going to do with…with that?” she asked tremulously, gesturing to the ginger root with head. Her arms still secured behind her back.

Holding up the root for her inspection, he stated, “I am going to place it up your bottom.”

Sarah lowered her hips till her bottom hit the floor in a protective move. “I don’t want that up my bottom,” she cried out.

“You have no choice. It is part of your punishment.”

“No! No! I don’t want to play this game,” she whined.

“This is no game, Sarah. It longed stopped being a game with you,” he darkly intoned.

Grabbing her by the back of the neck, Pierce forced her head down on to the pillow. Her hips were still twisted to the side. “Raise up your bottom or get another spanking,” he warned. With a sob, Sarah raised her hips till she was kneeling with her face on the floor. Pierce gave her bottom a quick slap. Sarah cried out but raised her bottom nonetheless.

Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she felt him pull open her bottom cheeks. Holding them open with one strong hand at the top of the cleft. Placing the tip of the ginger root against her puckered hole, Pierce watched as the sensitive hole clenched tight, turning slightly white around the edges in her effort to thwart him. It would not work. Rolling the tip over her skin, coating the ridge of her anus ring with the clear, glistening juice from the ginger.