Her pale skin gleamed like soft pearl skin in the yellow light, her pink nipples and the dark bush of hair over her mound the only color in the living statue. Pauletta breathed hard, her breasts shimmering with each gasp, her hips twitching, and Marian could see the dark folds of her quim glistening.
She licked her lips, then realized she’d moved, and her eyes darted quickly around to see if anyone had noticed. They were all watching Pauletta, praise God, and no one had noticed her weakness.
Even Will, who stood nearby, his face like marble, had his eyes focused on the long, slender body on display before him.
I should love to be the woman who brings him to his knees. Pauletta’s arch words settled in Marian’s mind and burrowed there deeply. He fascinates me.
Would he touch her? Marian couldn’t take her eyes off the scene in front of her, her heart thumping madly. Her belly felt tight and expectant, but, mercifully, Glynna chose to remain still. Mayhap the woman realized that no one would be watching if she continued her torture.
Or mayhap she wanted to listen to the proceedings-for she could see nothing from her position.
But Marian could see it all.
John moved first, so quickly that Marian didn’t realize what was happening. But then she heard the light smack of leather striking flesh, followed by a soft grunt of surprise. She saw Pauletta’s body twitch as John raised his hand and rained blows over her belly and thighs.
They were light ones, for there were no corresponding blood lines drawn onto her skin. But each touch of the slender leather caused Pauletta to gasp and jerk and cry out in pained pleasure.
Marian could not look away, and the sight of her confined body, spread so, roused her own emotions. And when Glynna decided that the truce was over and began to slide her tongue around in circles. . around and around and around her taut nipple. . Marian felt the lust rise from deep inside her.
Yet she could not look away as John stepped back, thrusting the slender whip into the hands of one of his men. He breathed heavily, his mouth full and shiny beneath the beard, and he lifted his tunic, untied his braies.
Pauletta cried out as he shoved himself between her legs, his hands closing over her upthrust breasts as he stroked between her legs. He stroked and Marian kept her mind blank by counting the number of times he slammed into her. . five … six. . seven. . She lost count as Pauletta began to roll and cry beneath John’s onslaught.
And as the prince cried his release, stumbling back and away, Pauletta whimpered. . begging for more. “Please,” she sobbed, her hips moving desperately against the smooth wood beneath her. The red folds of her quim shone bright, and then Ralf shoved his way into place between her hips.
Pauletta cried out in relief, and as Ralf rode her, his fingers curling into her white hips, Louis walked over and straddled the barrel at the location of her neck, facing Ralf, who pumped away at her hips. Marian watched as he pulled out his slender white cock and began to jerk hard on it, faster and faster, and she watched the two men as their pleasure shone on their faces. . growing tight and pained as they seemed to race to the end.
Glynna’s fingers began to work again, and her tongue ceased its swirling and began to tickle over the top of her nipple, where it was the most sensitive. Marian watched, horrified, fascinated, titillated. . unable to take her eyes away, as her own pleasure grew and swelled. Pauletta’s low little cries filled her ears, along with her own breathing, and she heard the other woman gasp her relief. . sobbing her pleasure in a long, keening moan.
Marian closed her eyes, struggling desperately to retain control of her own body. Her breathing rasped louder-her mouth had opened and she did not care. . She shuddered and trembled deep beneath her skin, fighting to remain outwardly frozen.
Her nipple grew tighter and more sensitive, the twitching fingers between her legs more insistent. . and yet. . not enough. Not enough to bring her over. . to give relief.
She rose and fell, gathered up and then eased, beneath the very skillful fingers … and suddenly she felt the surge of wetness around her own fingers.
Glynna gasped, pulsing around her, and Marian nearly cried out in surprise as she felt the quivering sensation from the woman next to her. . the woman on her, around her, sucking and licking and teasing. Marian’s breath came faster. Her hips threatened to move, to buck against the post behind her. . Her head wanted to roll from side to side as she waited for her peak. . She climbed, and grew closer. . tighter, pulsing, trembling. . felt her insides tighten. . ready. .
And then she realized Will stood there, in front of her, his face tight and dark, and Marian felt herself trapped by his eyes. Even as the dancing finger wriggled insistently over her pip, another finger pressed secretly inside her, shoving deeply and working in and around, the torturing tongue flickering faster than John’s whip. . She felt herself drowning. . ready. . so ready. .
And then the pressure eased. . ceased. The tongue stopped, leaving her nipple hard and hot and wet beneath the open mouth. . her little pearl pounding uselessly next to a finger that had frozen and merely teased itself between her thick, swollen lips.
Marian gasped, realized she was breathing as if she’d been running, and. . she moved.
She moved; she couldn’t resist any longer. Her hips thrashed, her body shuddered, and she heard the cry of victory from somewhere in the room.
Dimly, she was aware that Glynna moved away. . The pressure between her legs receded, leaving her quim throbbing and slick, needy. . and her breast cold and wet, dripping with saliva, hard and painfully pointed at the nipple. The necklet still heavy over her shoulders, no longer cold, shifted, clunking against her, as she moved.
Hands were on her. . pulling her arm down from the post.
Marian stumbled. She was next. . She knew it. . She felt strong hands, warm ones, moving her, sliding over her skin. . the sharp deep voices. . then the smooth wood of the barrel behind her, beneath her.
Her arms drawn long and tall, her back stretched so that her breasts shifted toward her shoulders. Her legs. . opened, revealing the need throbbing there for all to see. She didn’t care. . She wanted it, needed it there, touching her, filling her. . please. .
She breathed, gave a little sob, thrashed her head against the cool wood, heard the delicate clank of the chains that bound her. Felt the ungainly slide of the necklet to one side.
Shadows filtered about, harsh voices, and then strong hands at her hips. The brush of warmth against her, rough cloth. She opened her eyes. Aye. . Will loomed over her, just as she’d imagined. . just as he’d done before. Please. .
He blocked the light, his face turned away. She had the impression of closed eyes, cheeks sharp and hollow, jaw dark and scruffy. . He settled there, and she tried to lift her hips, tried to rise onto her toes and meet him. . She needed this. . needed him. . needed. . please. . Will. .
She felt him, hot and smooth against her, then the sudden filling of her center. . the sweet relief of joining. . and she cried out and her body surged around his hard cock, tightening as he moved in and out, fast and urgent and desperate. . over and over. . yes, aye, yes. . and her body coiled, readied. .
She needed to move, to rock and thrust and touch. . Her fingers curled helplessly against wood instead of flesh. She cried out in frustration, in rising desire. . needing. . Then she felt it. . closer. . the promise, the fulfillment … coming, coming. . and then the sensation of shattering, of breaking apart, as she slipped over into rolls of pleasure, waves of relief, shuddering violently against her chains, against him as she cried out.