Burning for Love (Kindred Tales)

“You are mistaken, Sir,” Rissa had replied coldly. “Such disgusting things as you describe will never happen. I will never take you for my husband.”

“But I shall take you for my wife,” the Duke had declared. “Why, my dear Princess—you appear to be overheating,” he had added, doubtless taking in her flushed cheeks and panting breath. “How long before your Heat Cycle overcomes you and you come begging to my door?”

Indeed, she had been overheating, Rissa acknowledged ruefully. For no matter how she tried to let his nasty remarks roll of her back, she couldn’t seem to ignore him completely. The verbal picture he painted of their supposed upcoming marriage was so very upsetting, she could feel her emotions and her heat rising at the same time.

She had looked desperately for James as the Duke described how he would take the upper hand in their marriage, forcing her to wait until she was nearly burned to death and begging him on her knees before he helped to slake her heat.

“I shall hold the upper hand in our marriage, dear Princess,” he had been saying confidently, his mustaches twitching like eager tails at either corner of his mouth. “You might think to rule the planet, but I shall rule you—all by virtue of that troublesome Heat Cycle of yours!”

James had been standing on the side of the dance floor, glaring at the Duke and watching carefully for any lapses in decorum. But though Duke Grabbington held her too tightly and whispered dirty, disgusting things in her ear, he did not actually take any liberties that would allow the big Kindred to come charging in to rescue her. So there was nothing Rissa could do but keep dancing, even as she felt herself getting more and more upset and overheated.

He will never rule me—never own me like he thinks he will, she told herself angrily, as she submerged her soapy limbs in the water as James instructed. How dare he think he can say such horrid things to me and get away with it?

And how could she bear another whole month of such nastiness? Not to mention, how would she keep from overheating?

“Princess, I can tell you’re still upset about tonight but you must calm down in order to cool down,” James murmured in her ear, as he continued to scrub her with the long-handled brush.

“What’s that you’re saying?” Lady Mildew demanded, glaring at them both. “Mind you scrub betwixt her legs, now, Sir Robot,” she continued, glaring at James. “It is the dirtiest part of her and must be punished!”

“I would never presume to punish the Princess—and I wouldn’t think you would either, Lady Mildew,” James growled. “However, in the interest of cleanliness…” He looked at Rissa. “Your Highness, would you please spread your legs so that I can scrub you properly?”

Rissa bit her lip. She couldn’t help remembering the way Lady Mildew had scrubbed her so hard with the metal-tipped bristles of the other brush. Though she had only scrubbed the outside of Rissa’s mound, the area was still sensitive and hurt for hours afterwards.

But James seemed to understand what was bothering her. His blue eyes went soft and he murmured,

“Please don’t worry, Princess—you know I’ll be gentle. I would never hurt you.”

There was truth in his words that Rissa felt in her bones. Shyly, she ducked her head and murmured,

“All right, Sir James.”

Then she parted her thighs for him, just as he had asked.

True to his word, James used the soft-bristled brush very lightly on the top of her mound and her outer lips. Instead of the harsh scrubbing she was used to, Rissa felt a gentle tickling that was somehow…intriguing. She had never felt anything but pain from her forbidden area—both in the form of the sharp shocks the Chastity wire delivered and the abrasive rubbing of the metal tipped bristles against her sensitive flesh. So this was a new sensation indeed.

“Is this all right?” James murmured, looking into her eyes as he continued to use the long-handled scrub brush very lightly between her legs. “I’m not hurting you, am I, my Lady?”

“N-no.” For some reason, Rissa’s voice sounded breathless in her own ears as they locked gazes and he continued to wash her. “I…you are not hurting me, Sir James.”

“Good,” he growled softly. “Because I would never want to injure such a sensitive area.”

“No, no, no!” Lady Mildew exclaimed, breaking the moment that had somehow grown between them. “That is not the way to scrub that dirty girl at all! She must be punished, I tell you! She must be scrubbed within an inch of her life! Betwixt her legs is the dirtiest, filthiest part of her!”

“I do not agree with you, Lady Mildew,” James said coldly. “And I believe this bath time is over, since the Princess is clean and her heat has been cooled.”