The Scarlet Shackle Read online

  She watched him untie his shirt and pull it over his head, revealing a muscular chest and a tracing of soft hair that broadened at his navel. “Shall I reply honestly?” echoed Julia. “Because you are strong and passionate and exquisitely beautiful, and you hurt me and then kissed my forehead. You are all I admire in a man and you paid a great deal in gold so that you might place your harness around my waist. I know you hate what you must do to enslave me, yet you do it nevertheless. And when you caress the welts you have made in my flesh, I burn with all my being to have you pierce me.”

  Marcus turned to face her, wearing nothing but his tight breeches. Even in the half light she could see his organ straining at the cloth. He stared at her a long moment, then said, “Return my shirt to me.”

  Julia pulled the shirt off and handed it to him, letting the candlelight bathe over her breasts. Then she leaned over and pulled at his breeches, pulled down until his penis was free. At the sight of it, so large and hard, so obviously yearning to conquer, she felt her loins clench, then relax again in a soft spasm of pleasure.

  Finally naked, Marcus lifted the edge of the counterpane. Julia felt his warmth even before his flesh touched her. Then he was next to her, leaning over her, and his lovely voice said, “I give you what you want, my slave, but only because I wish it. Were you to struggle against me, you would receive it just the same.”

  “I want it because you wish it, my Lord,” said Julia, and her body was seized with a fit of trembling. She was in his bed, she was in his arms, and then his full weight covered her.

  “I know you are in a fever,” he breathed in her ear. “I feel it.” His penis pushed between her legs, its satiny tip stroking the slippery folds. Julia opened to him, her thighs parting wide; she wished she could split her whole body, her whole being, that he might enter and fill her.

  “I pray your mercy, my Lord, quench me...quench me...”

  He silenced her plea with a hard, hot kiss. His mouth was so full and sweet, his chin so rough. His hair tumbled forward and fell on her cheeks, and when the kiss broke she dove into the soft waves, letting them caress her nose and lips. All the while her hips undulated beneath him, so that his penis would stroke her. The opening hungered to receive him, but she denied it to prolong the pleasure of the organ’s silky caresses.

  Suddenly it withdrew, for Marcus was slipping down her body, his whiskers chafing deliciously as he kissed her throat and breast. Then Julia felt his mouth take her right nipple, the tip of his tongue teasing her in a flutter that made her moan. Her legs wrapped around his thighs, her hands clenched over his tight, sleek buttocks. His hand covered her other nipple, he pinched it between his fingers, all the while continuing to suckle. Two vibrations surged through her, seeming to collide with each other, double back, and intensify. Delicious madness seized her brain, she writhed under him fitfully.

  He raised his head to look at her; their eyes met. A wicked smile was on Marcus’s face. “I think my slave enjoys a certain sort of torture,” he said, his voice thick with arousal.

  The words thrilled her to the core. She stared back silently. Marcus shifted his body until his penis touched her genitals again. He took it in his hand and moved the tip slowly in a circle over her, then brushed it over the opening lightly. Julia moaned and lifted her hips pleadingly. Marcus spoke: “Put your hand on it.”

  Julia reached down, her fingers finding pure perfect softness laid over stone. She pulled it toward the opening, straining.

  “Not yet...” said her master. “But feel it. So hard. So large that it will fill you, and rend you like a sword.” He put his hand over hers, rubbing the tip of his penis over her again, barely pushing at the opening.

  “Mercy my Lord...” sighed Julia, her voice nearly failing.

  “You know I will be merciful, but first you must have the torture you wish for so, my slave, my Julia...” He bent to kiss her, all the while teasing her with the soft tip of his penis, making her fairly buck with lust.

  Julia had never known herself to be such a creature, so hungry to be weak, so desperate to be helpless. But it was such sweet abandonment, such blissful surrender. Had she not been her master’s property, would this pleasure be so rich? Would he behave thus, so commanding, so irresistible in his power?

  So merciless...for he teased her till she wept and beseeched him insanely, and then and only then did he bring her peace. Marcus took hold of her thighs, which were already open to him as fully as Julia could manage, and pressed them still wider. The tip of his penis was at the opening, and with sudden lunge he pierced her to the hilt. Julia’s moans turned to giddy, half-hysterical laughter at this, the relief was so extreme. Then just as quickly the laughter melted into whimpers of ecstasy. He filled her to bursting, each thrust seemed to threaten to split her wide open. His strength was terrifying and he gave no thought to being careful or tender, but took his pleasure recklessly, wildly.

  Julia climaxed quickly, a flash of fire beneath his thrusting pelvis, and the languor that followed left her nothing but a puddle of soft bliss. To be in such a state as he had his way was like a dream, an altered state of consciousness. She lost herself utterly and became his movements, his heat, his strength. When at last he convulsed with his orgasm, she felt herself to be the pulsating muscles and throbbing nerves within him.

  And then her master collapsed upon her, utterly spent, hot and damp with sweat and stupendously heavy. Julia lay still, barely able to breathe and not caring, all her being centered upon the instrument within her that still pulsed erratically, softly.

  After a minute Marcus shifted some of his weight off her, and his penis slipped from her. He rested his head on the pillow next to hers, and looked at her from beneath half-lowered lids and a veil of his disheveled hair. His hand came up to cup her face.

  “Tell me, Julia,” he said languidly, his voice lovelier than ever before, “is there any part of you that is not utterly mine?”

  “Nothing of me remains unconquered by you, my Lord,” she replied weakly.

  His fingers stroked her cheek. “And was it my gold that purchased you, body and soul, my beloved slave?”

  She let herself sink into his dark eyes. “Your body conquered my body, and your soul my soul, my beloved master.”

  “Then stay with me,” Marcus said in a whisper.

  Julia closed her eyes, and soon was lost in sleep.

  * * *

  When she awoke in the morning, she was alone in the Master’s great bed. She drowsed a few minutes until there was a soft knock at the door.

  It opened to reveal Penelope, who carried a washbasin, and one of Julia’s dresses over her arm. “Our master bids you wash and dress, and come take breakfast with him,” said the older woman, her eyes twinkling.

  Julia sat up. “Thank you, Penelope.”

  “I trust all’s well.”

  “All is very well.”

  Penelope took a step closer to Julia and leaned over conspiratorially. “That would seem to be the Master’s opinion as well.” The two exchanged smiles.

  When Julia entered the dining room, Marcus once again rose to his feet. On a sudden whim, Julia rounded the table and dropped to one knee at his side. She took his hand in hers and kissed it. There she remained, her head bowed.

  “Rise, my Julia,” said her master.

  She did, and gave him a smile.

  When both were seated and had filled their plates, Marcus spoke. “I wish you to speak freely over your meal, Julia. I would like to pick your brain on the matter of Lord Flavius. I am considering the prudence of speaking to the Weavers Guild...”

  And so it was a businesslike meal, which in fact brought Julia much pleasure. When they had finished all but the last of the tea, Marcus put his hand on the object that had held Julia’s attention ever since she took her seat: the small wooden box with the brass hinges, which again stood at the side of his plate. So he meant to return the bracelet; this thought warmed her heart and made the time pass even more sweetly.

&
nbsp; Now her master opened the box, reached in, and drew out the contents. “Give me your hand,” he ordered, in that firm voice she loved so well.

  Then upon her wrist he fastened a bracelet of shimmering blue opals.

  “My Lord—?” said Julia, taken aback.

  “It was my wife’s favorite piece,” said Marcus, “I thought it would suit you well.”

  Julia stared at the gems, and breathed a quiet “Thank you.”

  “Do not think of it as a gift...you must be adorned, that is all.”

  She looked up to meet his eyes and he was smiling.

  “But a bracelet that has no lock, my Lord?”

  Marcus reached inside his shirt and drew out the chain with its key. He looked at it, raising one eyebrow, then lifted a stern gaze to Julia. He tucked the chain back inside his shirt, then leaned back in relaxation into his chair.

  “I believe, Julia, the lock is elsewhere. And quite secure.”

  She lowered her eyes to her plate, but she was smiling. “Yes, my Lord, quite secure.”

  E-mail me your thoughts at [email protected]

  For more about the author, please visit

  www.dianalaurence.com