Ward: A Dark Romance Page 14

  School, rehearsal, take-away meal. Repeat.

  There was no spark of pleasure, no luxury, no decadence to her life.

  My Elizabeth deserved decadence.

  In my world she was a lady who would be treated like a queen. No desire would go unanswered. She would have only the best to eat, to wear, and to experience. In time, when she could be trusted, we would emerge into the real world upon occasion, perhaps for me to launch a fashion line of her designs, but always, we would have this world… our world… to retreat back in to, to lose ourselves in.

  I had thought given I was fully aware of her added attraction for me that this would be an easy transition for her. In fact, I flattered myself to assume she would be grateful to have been chosen for such an honor.

  I miscalculated.

  A rare occasion on my part.

  I compounded this mistake by failing to recognize how much I had fallen for my little captured bird. It was because of this newfound love that I allowed myself the indulgence of treating her with a more delicate hand. While she may feel differently, taking the perspective that I had in fact been extremely harsh with her, she would soon learn the truth.

  The very painful truth.

  From this point forward, I would be focused and relentless. I must break her down; mentally, physically, and emotionally. Her mind must shatter so that I may pick up the pieces and arrange them in my perfect image of her, of us. If my plan was to succeed, I could show no mercy. She must be made to understand that there was no choice in this but acceptance.

  Unlike the others, she was special. And I would hate for her to suffer the same fate of those far less worthy than her.

  There was no turning back. This time I would succeed in submitting her to my will, with cold, absolute force if necessary, but it would happen.

  Tonight, I almost lost her. Forever.

  While I had been concerned over her falling from one of the jagged cliffs that line the western line of the property, it never occurred to me she would take the direction she did through the northwestern section of the woods.

  Another hundred yards or so and she would have stumbled upon the only modern road that comes close to my estate.

  It was the one that led to the small village and hotel I created as a respite for the staff and a form of debriefing area between visits to the outside world. While not open to the public and only used by staff, she may have come across a random vendor or supply merchant whose only purpose and knowledge of the property are the supplies they think they are bringing for the hotel’s use. As much as I would have liked otherwise, it was necessary to still keep a link to the outside world when it came to food and other supplies. The hotel was the perfect cover.

  Had Elizabeth somehow managed to escape and return to her world, that would have been the end and not only of our little game.

  She most assuredly would have gone to the police. While there wasn’t a chance in hell I would ever be charged with kidnapping and assault, it would become problematic. I had countless politicians, judges, and policemen in my pocket so I know it would never even be an issue in that regard. And while I did have behind the scenes control of numerous media outlets, the issue was that eventually she would find someone beyond my immediate control who was willing to listen to her fantastical tale.

  I couldn’t afford for even a hint of a rumor or speculation to get out about this estate and what happens here. It was why I paid so handsomely for the staff and while, when necessary, I even resorted to the subtle pressure of blackmail or the threat of possible ruination of themselves and their family to keep everyone involved.

  Unfortunately, what made Elizabeth the perfect target also made her my greatest liability and that was before the unseen complication of my deeper affection for her.

  She had no family to threaten with blackmail. Not even an ex-boyfriend or close friend to wonder whatever happened to her. Her only few friends were almost all associated with the theater and they were here under my control. Her origins being the United States, it was an easy matter to inform the school she had decided to leave the country and return home. No one questioned it. But her lack of connections and disagreeable past behavior made her impossible to keep quiet, should she ever succeed in escaping me before I had a chance to break her.

  For that very reason, failure was not an option, not where Elizabeth was concerned. This was too important to me. She was too important to me.

  The feel of her soft breast being crushed in my hand while she pushed her ass against my cock, grinding down on the hand that worked her sweet cunt was the only encouragement I needed to know my new plan was truly best for her… and for us.

  “Now I want you to be a good girl and get up on the chair.”

  “Am I being punished for running?”

  “Yes. That was an extremely foolish and dangerous thing for you to do, my love. More dangerous than you realize,” I warned.

  She whimpered. “Are you going to hurt me?”

  “Yes.” There was no point in denying it. She would learn soon enough.

  Her small body trembled within my grasp.

  Her next question was barely above a whisper. “Are you going to kill me?”

  Turning her in my arms, I brushed a soft curl from off her shoulder and ran the back of my knuckles over her cheek till I could brush her full lower lip with the pad of my thumb. Focusing on that lush mouth and how I would soon be pounding my cock into it without mercy, I said, “Never, my love. You’re mine. And what is mine, I keep. Always.”

  Grasping her around the shoulders and slipping my arm under her knees, I lifted her slight weight onto the upper tier of the siege d’amour chair. Lifting her arms high, I secured them over her head into the brass wrist shackles. Ignoring her murmured pleas and apologies for escaping, I placed one ankle then the other in the stirrups before locking the brass ankle plates in place.

  Reaching between her legs and under the cushion, I turned a small hidden crank. The stirrups slowly slid out to the sides on well-greased hinges. I didn’t stop till her legs were spread obscenely wide with her beautiful ass hanging just over the edge of the cushion, vulnerable to my ministrations.

  Her body was now completely restrained. This really was a marvelous invention of Bertie’s. It had countless options for restraining not one but two females at once into some extremely painful yet pleasurable positions. Once I stood on the lower tier and placed my feet in the brass fixtures, after grasping the handles on either side of her head, I would be at the perfect angle to inflict the most pounding pressure as I thrust into her cunt or ass.

  But that was for later… much later.

  For now, I had to make my little caged bird forget she ever knew how to fly.

  Walking over to a silver tray brought in per my explicit instructions, I removed the silver cloche from the platter, and picked up the largest piece of fresh ginger root on offer. Selecting a sharp paring knife, I began to circle around Elizabeth’s body secured to the chair as I shaved and shaped the root.

  Taking on the instructive tone of a parent about to discipline a child, I reminded Elizabeth, “This is the direct consequence of your own foolish actions. I need you to remember that, my love. How you are treated will depend on how you behave. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Richard,” she answered obediently as her wide emerald eyes stared at each movement of the knife in my hand.

  “This particular punishment was used on female slaves in ancient Greece when they were also foolish enough to defy their masters.”

  Flick. Flick. Flick.

  Slowly the small hard nubs and rough outer skin were shaved away to show the stiff, yellow fibrous ginger.

  “It is designed to inflict maximum pain and discomfort without marring their… property.”

  To her credit, she remained silent, save for the rapid rise and fall of her chest with her anxious breathing. She looked like a rabbit caught in an open field by an angry beast, desperately hoping if they stayed still for long enough, the beast would lose interest and move on. It rarely worked out that way for the little rabbit.

  “It is called figging. It’s also called gingering the tail and is used to make horses carry their tail high and to encourage movement.”

  Flick. Flick. Flick.

  The piece of ginger was now twice the thickness of my thumb and about three inches long. An intense size for her first figging but then again, I had promised myself to no longer be lenient. It was for her own good.

  “Are you sensing a theme, my dear? Punishment. Obedience. Responsive. Movement.”

  Elizabeth wet her lips. “Please, Richard. I don’t need to be punished. I promise I’ll be good from now on.”

  I placed the wet tip of the ginger root against her lower lip and rubbed it around her mouth. “You’re wrong. You do need this punishment.”

  The tip of her small pink tongue traced the path of the ginger root. I watched as a spark of fear shone in her eyes from the slight sting its juices left on her tongue. I stepped away to replace the knife on the tray. I wanted to give her imagination a moment to think of where I would probably be placing the ginger. In any punishment, the imagination was as important a tool as a leather strap or restraints. In fact, I would argue even more important. In many cases, I could never inflict the type of pain she was currently spinning over in her little head, as bad as the pain I was about to inflict would be.

  Returning to the chair, I stepped between her open thighs. The chair’s upper tier placed her body perfectly at my waist. She whimpered and tried in vain to close her knees but the stirrups kept her legs spread too far open.

  Taking the tip of the ginger root, I pushed it between the folds of her cunt. Taking a moment, I circled her clit a few times before applying just the slightest pressure against her entrance. Her body tensed as she held her breath. Again, I paused for her imagination to play. I then continued to her puckered back entrance. Using my one hand, I pushed her cheeks open a little wider to expose the dark pink hole with its tiny valley of ridges and peaks.

  Adjusting my grip on the root, I pressed the tip against her hole and pushed.

  Elizabeth tried to shimmy her hips back and away from my touch but the restraints prevented her.

  I pushed harder, watching the yellow, fibrous cylinder slide into her resisting hole.

  I could hear her gasp then still, holding her breath. Bracing for the pain. After a moment, she began to relax. I smiled. My poor pet didn’t realize it would take a moment for the ginger’s full effect to hit.

  With anticipation, I stood between her open thighs and watched… and waited. I wanted to observe the very moment her body began to react.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  Her fingers clenched into fists as her feet began to shift and pull in the stirrups with the movement of her hips.

  “Oh, god. It’s starting to burn!” she exclaimed.

  I had cut a deep ridge at the base of the root to form a plug, so she would be unable to push the ginger root out. Now I watched her anus tremble and twitch as she tried to do just that. The pink skin began to glisten as some of the ginger juice was pushed out.

  As the burn intensified, her cheeks and chest began to flush as her eyes glazed over.

  “Please! Make it stop!”

  Moving over to the table, I picked up a well-oiled leather strap. It was actually an authentic Victorian era Army Hospital Corp leather belt. Authenticity was so important with such things. The heavy brown leather had carefully been maintained over the years with oil and use, so it remained as supple and flexible as it was back in 1884. I particularly liked the circular interlocking buckle with the queen’s crown on it.

  Stretching the belt between my two fists, I once more approached Elizabeth. By now her cheeks were flushed an angry red as her body writhed on the chair.

  “Ow! It’s burning! It’s burning!”

  The harsh ginger juice within the delicate, unprotected skin of her anus would feel like acid on a wound. And it was only about to get worse.

  Standing to the side of the chair, I let the length of the strap fall over her stomach. I wanted her to see its width, to feel its weight. Again, I was using her own mind against her.

  “It’s time, my love.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No! No! Please, Richard!” Her voice was shrill as she begged.

  Reaching over, I stroked her hair. The elegant chignon had already come loose. It now hung in wild disarray on her shoulders with a stray curl sticking to the tears on her cheeks. Using my finger, I pushed the curl away and stroked her warm cheek. “I want you to scream as loud as you want, my love. No one who hears would dare come through that door to rescue you.”

  Stepping back with my right foot, I raised the belt high.

  Elizabeth began to scream before it even struck her flesh.

  The first time the strap caught her across her smooth, flat belly. The next I aimed at her pert nipples. I loved the sound of the leather as it hit her skin. Over and over again. Her nipples darkened and swelled. Small welts caused by the edge of the belt began to appear on the soft curve of her tits. I also knew that with each strike her body would involuntarily tense her anus muscles, adding to her agonizing pain as they squeezed the ginger root, allowing for more juice to trickle onto her already sore and inflamed inner flesh.

  She began to choke on her own cries as they tumbled in a mad rush to escape her mouth. Her body jumped and jolted as if hit with a bolt of electric current with each kiss of the belt.

  “Please stop! It hurts! I can’t take it anymore.”

  Allowing myself a small bit of pity and unwilling to belt her tits to the point of breaking the skin, I stepped to the space just outside her open legs.

  Elizabeth’s tear-filled eyes widened as she realized my intent. “No! No! Please! At least give me some laudanum so I can withstand the pain.”

  I could understand why she was begging for laudanum. Its euphoric effect would take the edge of the pain while allowing her body to find the pleasure behind it that much sooner. It was probably why it was so popular in the Victorian era and why I would be happy to add it to her future training but not today. “Laudanum is for good girls.”

  Raising my arm, I brought it ruthlessly down on her exposed cunt.

  Elizabeth screamed so long and hard, I genuinely thought she might pass out and I would have to revive her to continue the punishment.

  In later punishments, I would force open her folds so I could be sure to strike that small bundle of nerves into swollen submission but for now, I would be content with pussy whipping her with the belt, knowing with each strike her asshole would be that much more on fire.

  After several minutes, I withdrew the ginger root. Elizabeth sagged in relief. I knew it would continue to burn for at least another half an hour but not as intensely, which was why I was preparing a fresh one.

  Allowing her to catch her breath, I picked up the knife and scraped the skin off a second piece. From her rapid breathing permeating the silent room, I could tell the pain was beginning to build. Up to this point she had been reacting to the direct sting of both the belt and the ginger but the waves of prickling heat were taking over as the blood began to rise to the surface. Each place that was touched by the belt would begin to feel swollen and bruised as her own heartbeat would pound in her ears with each pulse of pain.

  It would be absolute agony if I were to repeat the punishment all over again… so that was exactly what I did.

  But first, I needed to give her a little pleasure. I wasn’t inflicting pain for pain’s sake. I was using it as a tool of submission and pleasure. Leaning over her stomach, I inhaled the spicy scent of her sweat mixed with ginger. Moving downward, I pressed the tip of my tongue between her folds and began to play with her clit, swirling to the left then the right.

  “Don’t! Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me come while I feel this pain. It’s wrong! Please!” she begged.

  Ignoring her pleas, I used my tongue and fingers to bring her to tortured release against her will. After her breathing started to slow, I knew it was time to insert the second piece of ginger.

  Time for more pain, I thought as I picked up my belt.

  By the time I removed the second piece, Elizabeth was nonsensical from the torment.

  Broken.

  I knew it was only temporary. I would have to take her to this level of pain every day for the foreseeable future before she truly broke and submitted. Before I had truly clipped her wings.

  From this point forward, she would suffer through daily instructions from me.

  Still, looking at her pale skin, covered in mottled red marks and the bright sheen of sweat, I felt my own traitorous feelings of love rising to the surface. If I couldn’t comfort her, at least I could experience some of her pain.

  Removing my clothes, I stepped between her thighs.

  Fisting my cock, I placed the tip at the puckered entrance of her asshole. I hissed through my teeth as the ginger juice touched the sensitive head of my shaft. In fucking her raw, I would inflict even more pain, which soothed my guilt but at the same time, I would also share with her that pleasurable dark sting.

  Taking a deep breath, I forced my cock into her tight hole in one thrust to the hilt.

  Her screams mixed with my growls as the ginger juice now tortured us both.

  Chapter 20

  Elizabeth

  Two months later

  I winced as Parker pulled on the corset strings, making it tighter than usual. The stiff fabric brushed painfully against my still bruised nipples.

  Richard had been particularly aggressive this morning during my daily punishment. No, I corrected myself internally.

  I mustn’t call them punishments.

  They are my daily instructions.

  It was his duty as my guardian to instruct me on the proper behavior of a lady of my station so that I may please him. It was my own heated mind and harlot nature that must be kept in check by his kind and attentive ministrations. After my morning enema, I am strapped into the siege d’amour chair, which is now prominently displayed in my bedchamber, to receive instruction on mastering my temper and learning my place.

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