seemed to balance Lydia’s equilibrium. She curled up in a chair by the window, opened the book, and sank her teeth into the savory peach.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lydia woke to the touch of a hand on her hip. She started, fearing for an instant it was Preston coming to subject her to further insults, but then she recognized Gabriel’s touch. She shifted into a wedge of juicy sunlight that spilled across the bed, letting it warm her face and shoulders. The long fingers of the sun teased her nipples into tight points.
She stretched long and hard, feeling the glorious pull of her muscles as blood flowed through her body. In that brief instant, she felt wholly herself, unfettered from the mental shackles that bound her to this place and these three dark men.
How long had she been here? She tried to think. Three weeks at least, perhaps longer. After her whipping under Kruin’s authority followed by relief at the hands of Gabriel, she had been granted only a short reprieve. The three men had all appeared preoccupied for the past couple of weeks, although clearly still determined to sustain their control over her.
They were forever reminding her to keep her legs spread, but Gabriel was the only one who had not indulged himself in her body. Several times Kruin had ordered her to bend over the rounded arm of a sofa so that he could administer a quick, hard fuck that seemed as much for Lydia’s debasement as it was for Kruin’s own pleasure.
Rebelliousness seethed inside her as she pressed her face into the sofa cushions and accepted Kruin’s deep, heavy plundering of her innermost regions. The pistoning of his stalk inevitably summoned Lydia’s unwilling arousal, which she tried desperately to suppress through a concentrated gathering of all the willpower in her possession.
Still she had twice failed in her efforts, climaxing so violently around his huge phallus that he had punished her with a brutally hard spanking. Although the fierce blows of Kruin’s large palm had left Lydia sobbing and whimpering into the sofa cushion, such punishment was not as difficult to bear as the belt-whipping had been.
To her confusion, Lydia found it equally difficult to maintain control over her excitement when Kruin was pumping into her as when Preston was. She had hoped that with Preston, her dislike of him would temper her natural desire for release. As Preston’s pleasure seemed to derive both from Lydia’s embarrassment and the sexual act itself, he had particularly begun to enjoy coercing her into lewd acts at odd times. And his manipulations caused her to become humiliatingly wet and swollen with arousal.
Just the other night, he had insisted that she position herself between his legs underneath the dinner table and suck him to orgasm while he cheerfully ate his coq au vin .
And when she had returned from a horse ride with Gabriel, after which they had spent several hours wiping down the horses and cleaning the stalls, Preston had forbidden Lydia to shower, instructing her instead to strip and, as he phrased it, “ride my steed now.” Which, reeking of horse-flesh, stained with sweat and dirt, Lydia had shamefully done. Both times she had not been able to stop herself from climaxing uncontrollably.
Although Preston remarked with harsh amusement about her frequent failure to adhere to their mandate, thankfully neither he nor the other two men had subjected her to more barbaric punishments than Kruin’s spankings. Lydia could almost bear their control over her if it meant a reprieve from the variety of harsher punishment they all appeared to enjoy.
She stretched again, feeling the sun warm her skin to a burnished gold.
“Lydia.” Gabriel’s voice broke through her temporary bliss.
Her eyelashes fluttered open. She brushed a few strands of tousled hair away from her forehead as she gazed at him standing over her bed. She searched his face for a hint of the gentleness that seemed such a part of him, but his
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lydia woke to the touch of a hand on her hip. She started, fearing for an instant it was Preston coming to subject her to further insults, but then she recognized Gabriel’s touch. She shifted into a wedge of juicy sunlight that spilled across the bed, letting it warm her face and shoulders. The long fingers of the sun teased her nipples into tight points.
She stretched long and hard, feeling the glorious pull of her muscles as blood flowed through her body. In that brief instant, she felt wholly herself, unfettered from the mental shackles that bound her to this place and these three dark men.
How long had she been here? She tried to think. Three weeks at least, perhaps longer. After her whipping under Kruin’s authority followed by relief at the hands of Gabriel, she had been granted only a short reprieve. The three men had all appeared preoccupied for the past couple of weeks, although clearly still determined to sustain their control over her.
They were forever reminding her to keep her legs spread, but Gabriel was the only one who had not indulged himself in her body. Several times Kruin had ordered her to bend over the rounded arm of a sofa so that he could administer a quick, hard fuck that seemed as much for Lydia’s debasement as it was for Kruin’s own pleasure.
Rebelliousness seethed inside her as she pressed her face into the sofa cushions and accepted Kruin’s deep, heavy plundering of her innermost regions. The pistoning of his stalk inevitably summoned Lydia’s unwilling arousal, which she tried desperately to suppress through a concentrated gathering of all the willpower in her possession.
Still she had twice failed in her efforts, climaxing so violently around his huge phallus that he had punished her with a brutally hard spanking. Although the fierce blows of Kruin’s large palm had left Lydia sobbing and whimpering into the sofa cushion, such punishment was not as difficult to bear as the belt-whipping had been.
To her confusion, Lydia found it equally difficult to maintain control over her excitement when Kruin was pumping into her as when Preston was. She had hoped that with Preston, her dislike of him would temper her natural desire for release. As Preston’s pleasure seemed to derive both from Lydia’s embarrassment and the sexual act itself, he had particularly begun to enjoy coercing her into lewd acts at odd times. And his manipulations caused her to become humiliatingly wet and swollen with arousal.
Just the other night, he had insisted that she position herself between his legs underneath the dinner table and suck him to orgasm while he cheerfully ate his coq au vin .
And when she had returned from a horse ride with Gabriel, after which they had spent several hours wiping down the horses and cleaning the stalls, Preston had forbidden Lydia to shower, instructing her instead to strip and, as he phrased it, “ride my steed now.” Which, reeking of horse-flesh, stained with sweat and dirt, Lydia had shamefully done. Both times she had not been able to stop herself from climaxing uncontrollably.
Although Preston remarked with harsh amusement about her frequent failure to adhere to their mandate, thankfully neither he nor the other two men had subjected her to more barbaric punishments than Kruin’s spankings. Lydia could almost bear their control over her if it meant a reprieve from the variety of harsher punishment they all appeared to enjoy.
She stretched again, feeling the sun warm her skin to a burnished gold.
“Lydia.” Gabriel’s voice broke through her temporary bliss.
Her eyelashes fluttered open. She brushed a few strands of tousled hair away from her forehead as she gazed at him standing over her bed. She searched his face for a hint of the gentleness that seemed such a part of him, but his
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