Chapter 1
BEFORE READING PLEASE BE AWARE THIS IS DARK EROTICA & CONTAINS SOME KINKS THAT MAY NOT BE FOR EVERYONE.
Prologue
I had been a naughty girl and now Daddy was going to punish me. It was another dream, one of many. They felt more like memories than dreams.
I looked down at my silver and black flapper dress with tassels hanging from the hemline as I ran across a courtyard. Looking backwards I could see a tall young handsome man with dark hair walking steadily towards me with purpose. He was walking away from the entrance to a large castle and carrying a riding crop. His gorgeous blue eyes were narrowed with menacing intent as he strode towards me refusing to hurry even when I ran. His lips curled in to an amused almost cruel smile and my heart pounded with excitement and trembled with fear all at the same time. I was a little afraid of the man and I wanted to be.
We must have been next to the ocean because I could hear the roar of the sea as I ran and taste salt in the air. I always ran to the stable and I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because the man who hunted me kept the castle he owned secure and guarded and I would have been stopped from leaving by his men. Maybe I had thought I could hide from him in the stables I always pondered when I woke.
I ran in to one of the unoccupied stalls. The others were filled with the owner’s stock of stallions and the mare he was ready to breed. My incarnation in the dream hoped the day of marriage with this dangerous man and his breeding of her would come soon. I closed the door hearing his footsteps on the cobbles inside the stable entrance. He was close and my heart raced. He would find me any moment now. Would the punishment be more strict because I had run from him?
I bent and hid behind the wall my feet resting on the straw covered floor waiting for the inevitable. His footsteps were slow and steady prolonging my anticipation but finally the stall door swung open. Swallowing hard I stood and smoothed down my dress with my hands clothed in long white satin gloves. The handsome young man who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five flashed his blue eyes at me with glee. He had found me. He oozed authority, and gave me the impression he was a very powerful dangerous patriarchal figure perhaps even Mafia in his expensive black 1920s suit.
The man raised the crop in front of him pointing it in my direction narrowing his eyes and giving me a stern look that took my breath away. Automatically my gloved hands flew to my bottom and clutched each globe protectively. An amused smile at my action sexily lifted his lips. There was a tinge of cruelty behind the smile once more making me dampen between my thighs even as I backed away from him. He followed me.
My back hit the wall of the stall and he approached. Something made me attempt another escape from my disciplining session and I tried to run around him. The man’s arm swung out and caught me around the waist drawing me back. He slammed me back against the wall and pressed the flexible leather end of the crop against my pouting ruby lips. I shivered intoxicated with his closeness, the heady fresh scent of lime and basil invading my nostrils. I wanted him and I wanted him to punish me. I deserved it. This man was master of the castle and of me and it was his right to discipline me for disobedience. I was afraid of the pain to come but I hoped he would allow pleasure to quickly follow.
He shook his head at me, caressing the end of the crop the length of my plump moist bottom lip back and forth.
“You should know better, Sarah. There is no escape,” he said in a deep English voice.
“No, Daddy,” my voice bore a gentle American lilt.
His fingers tucked down the front of my dress and pulled hard. I closed my eyes tight as he tore the flimsy silk dress to shreds and stripped me.
“My dress,” I muttered despondent that he had ruined it.
The man pulled the remnants down from around my body leaving me naked. Thankfully, I had had the sense to obey his rules on not wearing underwear that day and all I was left wearing was my long string of pearls, silver buckle shoes, gloves, bracelet and a pearl head band on my short blonde bobbed hair.
He positioned the end of the crop underneath my chin and forced it to raise until I strained. I watched his eyes sweep hungrily over my naked body.
“Don’t complain, little one. When we are married I will buy you lots of dresses and you will want for nothing as my wife.”
I loved his use of the word wife. There was nothing more I wished for. He roughly took hold of my hair and dragged me to a tall bench and bent me over it. I swore he kept it in there just to spank and whip my bottom when necessary or simply because he desired it. I felt the reassuring touch of his large warm male palm curving over one milky white globe before cupping it lovingly, possessively. His thumb stroked my flesh.
“Your punishment will be a strong one today, my love. I won’t tolerate you comprising your safety on my account or for others again.”
“Yes, Daddy. I am sorry. I won’t be reckless again,” I said the title I strangely gave him with ease and although I felt genuine remorse at having made him worry about me I appeared to have no intention of obeying him on that rule in the future. And with resignation I knew I would find myself either over his knee for a spanking or being whipped until I finally learned to follow his rule.
“Do you really want to make me your wife, Sir?” I gushed with excitement.
“Hush, little one. Punishment first then we will discuss the vows of honour and obey you will take as my wife,” he told me with amusement.
“Yes, Sir,” I answered happy with his declaration.
His hand settled down in the middle of my back to steady me for my bottom whipping. The man raised the crop in an arc and it whooshed through the air towards my flesh. I grit my teeth and prepared for the first stinging lash. It came hot and fast as the crop made contact with my vulnerable bare butt. A loud cry was forced from my lips making the horse move restlessly in their stalls stamping their feet and tossing their heads.
He continued striking first one buttock then the other before delivering a blow to the whole seat area never hitting the same place so the pain was fresh each time. Every lash felt like a hot brand, his brand. I thought it would never end and I howled and sobbed like a baby. The pain was most acute when he struck the tender backs of my thighs yet a soft wetness pooled between my legs and an aching need began to pulse inside my pussy. I never seemed to understand the paradox of feeling pleasure with pain only that I did and I always needed to be satisfied after being punished.
Of course, he would see it, see the wetness glistening on the tops of my inner thighs. It always pleased my dominant lover to see me damp with arousal when he chastised me. It always spurred him to whip me harder. Eventually he stopped lashing my hot burning bottom and turned his attention to the ripe fruit hanging between my thighs. It was moist and pliant, the way he always liked me to be when he opened my legs on a whim to inspect or simply to touch me. I was his property and he expected me to always be ready for him to take me when he desired.
The crop licked expertly over the tip of my clit making me screech as a hot needle bearing a mixed concoction of intense pleasure and hot pain stabbed at my centre. The torture continued and soon I was desperately panting and begging for release in a climax but I needed to wait patiently for his permission to come. I bit my lip trying to hold on and finally I was to be rewarded.
“Come for me, Sarah. I want to see you strongly riding your pleasure.”
“Yes, Sir,” I panted.
I let go and came strongly, shrieking my climax around the walls of the large stable knowing the grooms would hear me but no longer caring. My hips bucked downwards on to an imaginary penis wishing he was inside me until the hot intense spiral of pleasure claimed me and I slumped exhausted over the bench.
The man helped me stand and then stood like a King in front of me taking my breath away. He pointed at the floor next to his feet.
“Kneel,” he ordered.
“Yes, Sir.”
The act of lowering my body to the floor to kneel at his feet quiet, obedient and submissive enthralled me. A warm glow settled over my body. I felt safe, loved and protected by his rule and I wanted to show my respect more than anything. I knelt at his feet with my head lowered.
“Good girl,” he said ruffling my hair as I reached for his leg to cling to it.
I woke from the dream with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. It was the fourth time the dream of the mysterious man had woke me on consecutive nights. I couldn’t be sure but there was a possibility they were past life memories. I shook my head with disbelief. But I had no answers until the American Mafia Boss & billionaire Gabriel Knight walked in to my life three days later.
