What's
better than a Regency Love story? One with a twist!
Silver
Silk Ties … Blurb
Araminta
knew what she wanted, and being left on her wedding night was not it. Finding
her husband in the notorious house on Silk Street, she hoped her luck had
changed. Perhaps this would not be the marriage of convenience she feared. If
only she could persuade him that she was indeed the sub he needed.
Meeting
his new wife at the one place all deep dark desires could be satisfied, Felton
wondered if he had been mistaken? Was this a marriage of mutual passion and
ideals? Would she truly obey? There was only one way to find out, test her
submission.
And an excerpt to tease you…
Ara's skin gleamed with the
evidence of her arousal. Her eyes were shining, her breathing rapid. The
tantalizing pulse in her throat was beating out a rapid message. 'I'm ready, take me.' He would, and
soon.
Felton picked up a soft silk crop
and walked towards her. It was designed to stimulate rather than sting, and he
knew the touch of it on her body would arouse and frustrate her.
"Take hold of the posts,
Ara. I will not tie you. I want to see how you respond to directions. You will
not speak, or come until I say so. Are you happy with that? You must vocalize
your answer then remain silent."
"Yes, sir."
Were there ever two more glorious
words?
He waited until she took hold of
each post. It stretched her arms, almost to their length, and her breasts
tightened as she did so, her nipples peaked and hard. Then with studious care,
Felton rested the tip of the crop at the entrance to her channel. He let the
ties trace a delicate pattern on her bare mound, and across her thighs. She
squirmed, and her juices coated the silk, darkening the color.
Felton swished and snapped the crop so it snaked
over her quim. Ara bit down on her lip. The sensation she would be experiencing
would be akin to a feather tickling, or a set of soft wet kisses, creating a
trail over her. He would be hard put to make a mark of any kind. For all that,
he had no intention of reddening her skin with it. The idea was to raise her
awareness, to arouse her to screaming point before he moved on. Again, he
snapped and flicked.
"Good girl," he praised
her as he watched her struggle not to speak. "It's so hard, isn't it? You want
more, don't you? Do you want to feel the sting, Ara, the pleasure pain of
something with a little bite to it? Shall I give it to you?" He wondered
how she would respond, given he had told her not to speak.
She nodded. He stroked her
channel once more. The ribbons of the crop were damp with her juices, and he
wanted to lift them to smell her essence, and add his juices to hers.
"Then I shall reward you.
Roll onto your stomach." Felton didn't wait to see if she obeyed. He
dropped the crop into a bin—he had many more, all made especially for him—and
picked up another one. Instead of all silk flails, this had a mixture of silk
and leather. It was still not one that would inflict great pain. Felton had
long acknowledged he had no taste for that. He preferred a long, slow, teasing
arousal, and a hint of pain. This, he knew, would deliver both. It also,
produced a satisfying noise when he moved it. In fact, he mused as he walked
back to the bed, where Ara was now on her front, the fear of what that noise
could mean, was conceivably a greater stimulus than its touch.
"On your knees, and take
hold of the bed head." He waited until she had moved and placed a high
pillow between her breasts and quim. "Is that comfortable? Flex your hand
if it is, speak if not."
Her hand flexed. Satisfied, he
moved her hair so her back was uncovered, and trailed a series of nipping
kisses down her spine. She arched upwards to seek more, and he pressed her down
with one hand. With the other, he spanked her soft rear, and then slipped his
fingers between her legs to thrust one finger inside her soaked channel.
Felton looked at his cock now
covered in pre-cum and standing out proudly from its nest of dark curls. Soon, he promised himself.
Without warning, he brought the crop down hard
on her arse. The sting would be no more than that, but the unexpectedness, he
knew, would make it feel more than it was.
She moaned, and he bit back his
chuckle.
"Ah, dear Ara, you were
commanded not to vocalize. I'm sure I heard a moan. Does that mean you disobeyed
me?"
She was silent. Then slowly
nodded.
***
Links
Silver Silk Ties is available from
You can find me at
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