Ordeal by denial – #SatSpanks #DarkRomance #HistoricalRomance

#SatSpanks

It’s finally the weekend again, and this week I have a release date for my long-awaited sequel to The Viking’s Conquest. The new book will be LIVE on June 8th!

This post is a #SatSpanks with a difference. In this exclusive snippet, Anders looks set to teach Aurelie that not ALL punishments are about spanking. Some it seems, are about much harder to endure…

***

There is little time to muse on Anders’ warning. All at once he buries his face between my outstretched thighs, and his tongue goes to work, eliciting another gasp from my mouth. My head spins as the pleasure begins to escalate. This is supposed to be a punishment, yet how can that be so? How can being worshipped by Anders this way ever be considered such a thing?

I pull against the bondage, acknowledging just how uncomfortable the position is for the first time. Having my blond god between my thighs however, provides just the right level of distraction, and I ignore the awkwardness. Instead I focus on Anders’ ministrations, revelling in each new lap of his powerful tongue.

“Oh, my Lofðungr,” I moan as the intensity builds.

I want to gyrate and increase the friction, but it’s almost impossible in my current upturned place. I open my mouth, intending to cry out again, to encourage him on, but before I can get the sounds out, Anders’ mouth vanishes.

“You’re just as divine as I recall,” he tells me playfully, as his face appears in my eye line.

I groan at Anders’ words, wishing he would just resume my pleasure, but to my frustration, he shifts his place on the bed instead. Straining my neck, I try to see what he is doing, but all I can make out is his shirt-covered torso as his attention is captured elsewhere on the bed. Now I really pull against the ropes at my wrists, my irritation at the disturbance in his ministrations growing, just as the carnality had done a few moments before.

“My Lofðungr?” I whimper, wanting his attention again.

“Patience, Aurelie,” he replies, and the tone of his voice sends me a warning. “Part of this punishment is about patience, the other is about perseverance. You must garner all the energy you have for both, my love.”

Our eyes lock again, his expression calm and in control. I want to cry out, such is my frustration. One moment I am to be punished, the next I am pleasured, and then what—what is this?

“I see my little one has enjoyed my devotion to her sweet pussy?” Anders’ chuckle fills the air around me. “Just looks at how wet you are, my sweeting.”

His fingers caress the sensitive skin around my sex, and I shiver at Anders’ touch, pushing my hips up to meet his digits as best as I can. “Oh, yes,” he continues as he slides one and then two fingers inside my wetness. “So very wet…”

The fingers inside me begin to move, fucking me slowly at first, before building in the fervour. I know I am groaning then, welcoming their exquisite intrusion as they plunder me over and over. And then, just as the pleasure becomes potent, they are gone. Anders’ digits disappear as fast as they arrived, leaving me bereft of his touch.

“Oh, please,” I mewl. “Please, my Lofðungr, fill me up.”

He laughs again, but now the sound is darker than before. Edgier. “Oh, I shall fill you up, Aurelie,” he chuckles. “Just you wait…”

His voice trails away, and all of a sudden there’s a new pressure at my wet channel. It’s not Anders’ fingers anymore, and not his magnificent cock. I can’t see the thing, but whatever it is, it’s cold as it presses against me.

I gasp at the contact, wriggling in the binds that hold me firmly in place. “My Lofðungr!” I pant. “Wh-what is it?”

“You already know, my sweeting,” Anders answers, his voice full of unrestrained glee. “You saw the implement on my palm with your own eyes.”

My memory flits back to the sleek, smooth stone object that he had pulled from the wooden chest and instinctively I tense.

“Now, now, Aurelie,” he chides me. “Relax and let it in. You will yield to this just as you surrender to me.”

I am beside myself, not wanting to be filled with this strange, foreign object, and yet wholly unable to resist the thing. Anders has me tied in such a way that I am completely powerless to prevent its intrusion. He presses the stone phallus beyond my entrance, and I feel the first inch impale me.

A desperate whimper escapes my lips as the thing invades me. “My Lofðungr!” I cry, my voice demonstrating how fearful and frustrated I am.

“Take it, my captive,” he instructs me. “You will take the phallus, first in your pussy and then, when I command it, in your dark entrance.”

His fingers, still full of my arousal, probe my ass as he speaks. One digit plunges into my most vulnerable place as the phallus continues its descent into my sex.

I pant as best I can in the bondage, trying to accept both intrusions at the same time. “Why, my Lofðungr?” I cry out. “Why must I take it?”

Both his finger and the phallus press on, eliciting a guttural moan from me. “This is part of your punishment, my sweeting,” he explains as he begins to withdraw his finger from my backside, before thrusting it back into position. “I want you to remember that I am your master. This means I will touch you whenever I please, but you, my sweeting, you will not touch me without permission. During this penance, I will control you totally. I will fill you with whatever I choose, and I will bring you right to the brink whenever I like, and you, my sweeting, do you know what you will do?”

I am barely able to follow his words at this point. The stone phallus is now tucked tightly inside me, whilst Anders’ fingers continue to fuck my ass. I am certain that if this torture continues, I will soon lose my mind. The sensations are crude and foreign, and I would gladly be rid of the stone intruder in a heartbeat, yet there’s no denying that the combination of the tight ropes at my wrists and ankles, added to my current predicament, fuel my passion. It was Anders’ mouth that roused me, but this exquisite suffering is carnality itself. I am his now—literally his to do with what he pleases. The thought is as riling as it is hedonistic.

“I do not know,” I gasp, doing my best to answer his query. “What should I do, my Lofðungr?”

He laughs again, the resonance of his breath tickling the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs. “You shall be bound and take what you are given, like a good little girl.”

***

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Author: felicitybrandonwrites

#1 international bestselling writer of sizzling alpha males, BDSM, and spanking romance. Runner-up at the 2017 Spanking Romance Reviews awards. Golden Flogger finalist 2016. Wicked Pen writer.

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