The Knight's Prisoner (Medieval Discipline 1)

It fascinated her—the rough animal nature that had emerged from her gentle giant and her burning desire to be possessed by him. She had never liked a man to be rough with her before. But then, she had never trusted a man not to hurt her. Somehow, even though Ferrum had caused her pain during the lovemaking, she felt implicitly safe. Which was only strange if she didn't account for the fact that he was also a man who held her hand while giving her the worst whipping of her life.

“How is it,” she mused the next morning when she woke, still bound to her captor and lover, “that you can be so gentle when you punish me, but so rough when you fuck?”

Sir Ferrum froze. “Did I hurt you, Dani?”

She was touched by his obvious concern. She rolled her head languorously from side to side on the mat. “Nay… I liked it.”

He relaxed and unbound their hands. “Good. Listen, I don't want to hear that kind of language out of you. If you say 'fuck' again I'll spank your little bottom red.”

She grinned wickedly. “Fuck,” she said. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

He shook his head sadly, hiding a smile. “Bad girl.” He pulled her over his lap and began smacking her bare bottom, much lighter than he had the last time. She giggled and pushed her hips back to meet his hand, enjoying the sting he was starting to create. As the spanking became more intense, she stopped giggling, her breath growing ragged as his huge hand came down harder. She closed her eyes, drowning in the sensation of his hand and her pain, the loud slap of flesh on tender flesh, the exchange of energy—his will imposed on her body. She floated away for a moment and then came drifting back as she felt his hand rubbing her heated bottom.

She moaned. “Fuck me, Ferrum,” she pleaded.

He made a tsking sound. “Do you need a taste of my belt?”

She squeezed her cheeks together as if to deflect an imagined stroke of his belt. “No, sir!” she said quickly.

“What did I tell you about saying the word 'fuck?'” he inquired, slapping her bottom several times to punctuate his question.

“You said not to use it,” she gasped.

“So why did you just use it?”

“Because I want you to.”

“You want me to what?”

She hesitated. “Fuck me,” was really the best way to describe what she wanted, the way she wanted it. But he'd threatened her with his belt, and she was not dumb enough to tempt him.

“Take me. I want you to take me, Ferrum,” she panted.

He chuckled. “That's better.” He pushed her off his lap, and she crawled onto her hands and knees, ready for him. “If I take you,” he said slowly, his warm hand stroking down her flank, “It will be the way I want to take you. And I may just want to keep on taking you.” He gave her arse a slap. “I may want to keep you for my own.”

Her breath hitched in her chest at that—torn by the desire those words inspired in her and the knowledge she would not be staying for anyone to keep her. She chose to focus on the desire, looking back over her shoulder with an invitation. He shrugged doubtfully, as if to say she'd asked for it, and then rubbed his cock on the outside of her slick sex, gliding smoothly in her juices. He did not enter her there, though. Instead, he withdrew and pressed against the entrance of her arsehole. She used to charge extra for this or refuse it altogether. She'd never liked it. But surprisingly, she felt if Ferrum wanted it this way… she did too. She wanted him to take her however he pleased, to give him whatever he wanted. She liked the way he controlled her, demanded of her, took every last thing she had to offer.

She tried to relax the muscles of her bottom as she pushed back at him with her tight little hole. She whimpered, and he murmured, “That's a good girl. You take it where I want to put it.”

“Yes, sir,” she moaned, making another conscious effort to relax and allow him to fill her.

“You're my girl now, aren't you?” he murmured lovingly, and he slowly slid in and out of her tight hole.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

She moaned. He began to gradually pick up speed, and she was thankful for his careful, smooth strokes. He only started getting rough right before he climaxed, and she grunted as he held his hips pressed against her bottom, spilling his seed. He pulled her up off her hands to stand upright on her knees and reached around and rubbed her nub of pleasure till she lost all control, climaxing with his fingers pinching her in front with the pressure of his cock still pressed in her arse.