Leora Pt. 01

He'd pushed all her hair back behind her shoulders, and stepped back surveying her as these thoughts and concerns raced through her mind. "What is my punishment?" she asked.

"I will spank you," he murmured. "Twenty strokes against your bare behind. You will be tied, as you are, but will lay over my lap. And you will have your corset removed as well."

She gasped. She would be entirely nude then, except for her stockings and the ropes! And to be spanked, like a child...She felt horrified, but also, strangely, she felt a tingling buzzing sensation like nothing she'd felt before, low in her belly. Lower.

"And...and then what will occur?" Her voice trembled like her limbs.

"You will allow me to soothe your skin, of course. It would be a shame to mar that lovely white flesh." His teeth flashed white in a broad smile against his golden dark skin. "You will be free to go on the morrow, if you choose." He walked over to the table, picked up a vessel of wine and poured a glass, then turned to her.

"Or...you could stay here. I could use a woman to serve me. All the other women have left, you see, since we were so long away at war. I would pay handsomely, and you would not find your duties onerous." He smiled that catlike smile again. "Not very onerous anyway."

He looked her in the eyes and became solemn. "I am accounted a good and honorable chevalier. I will do nothing to harm you, nothing you do not wish. You would be free to leave at any time. However, this job does come with certain...benefits."

"I see," she mumbled. "The benefits are..."

"Let us discuss all of this once your punishment is passed. After that you will be able to consider the offer more clearly."

She felt hypnotized by his advance, his sinuous walk, his dark eyes, his deep voice. "Yes," she whispered.

He leaned over, and she smelled him more clearly. His scent was like fresh air and a warm hearth, spiced with cloves and pine resin. He reached over her shoulders, brushing his body against her, and unfastened her wrists from the iron ring holding her to the bench. Then he unfastened her ankles from the base of the bench. He then stooped and unfastened each of the lambskin fasteners that held her legs together.

He left the ropes along her legs, and bound her wrists behind her. He then helped her to rise, steadied her when she swayed slightly. When she was standing securely, his hands dropped away. He walked behind her and called to her. "Come here."

She turned and saw him sit at yet another bench. This one had a lower padded portion on one side. He sat on the higher portion and gestured in front of him. "Here."

She walked toward him. She stopped a couple of feet away, her heart pounding. He tapped the bench between his bent legs, sharply, and she moved forward until she was right in front of him. "Which first?" he asked, gesturing at her garments.

Her pale skin flushed. She shook her head slightly and did not answer.

"Which?" he insisted.

Leora stood for a long moment, then made the smallest gesture toward her corset laces.

"Good," he smiled. He reached up and untied the laces, then slowly pulled the sides of the corset apart. Her breasts surged up from the sudden release of the constriction. Her nipples, always so red and erect, seemed especially dark and prominent against her white skin today. She heard his swift intake of breath.

***

He stared at the heavy weight of her breasts before continuing to unravel the corset laces. When he finished her chest was heaving. Her nipples looked like raspberries ready for him to bite and suck. Her skin was covered with a pink blush, from her bright cheeks down over her chest, down onto the breasts. He watched the blush staining her like fire rushing under her skin, and watched the nipples visibly harden further until he thought they might burst from the blood engorging them.

The areolas were small. The nipples simply graced the slightly tiptilted shape of her breasts: white skin against dark red. They must be the longest, most elegantly delectable nipples ever to grace a pair of breasts, he vowed to himself. There were marks from the corset on the undersides of her breasts. He reached up to rub them away from her tender skin, but thought better of it. If he started touching those breasts, he might never stop, he thought.

"Now the drawers," he rumbled. He felt as though he were also panting, and needed to take a breath to calm himself. He untied the ribbon at her waist, and pushed the thin grey linen down over her hips. Right in front of his face was a soft, slightly rounded belly above a thick vee of dark hair, with curls so thick no skin was visible beneath them. He pushed the drawers further down until they pooled at her ankles.

She stepped out of the garment, then stood nude but for red ropes atop her grey wool stockings, shivering visibly.

He looked at her face swiftly—was she alright? Her eyes were huge and glassy, but somnolent with desire. Her chest rose with short pants, causing the curves to shudder slightly. She was alright. "Turn," he commanded.

She turned until her back was to him, and then he was faced with a scooped indent of a waist and dip of a lower back, above a round ass. The globes were so white, so taut and full he wanted to bite them. He wanted to smack them and see them judder under the blow, then turn red.

He felt almost dizzy with his own desire. 'What beneficent deity created this woman's body?' he thought giddily. He had to pause for several breaths before he could tell her to kneel on the lower part of the bench to his right.

She held her flaming red face high and knelt down onto the pads. She kept her back straight, and didn't meet his eyes. "Bend over and place your chest on the bench to my left, so that your hips are resting on my legs."

This was difficult for her. Her arms remained tied behind her. But she arched herself up and over his lap until she settled down. He felt her soft thighs and curls brush against his breeches. Her glorious ass was perched there in front of him, perfectly placed. Her whole body was shaking, her arms elegantly tied in a web of rope, her straight black hair pouring down over her face and back.

He brushed her hair away from her face, and saw her resting her cheek against the bench next to him, eyes closed, and lips parted. She looked like a perfect sacrifice to the basest of his lusts. He felt his own lips stretch wider in a smile.

***

Leora knelt on the chevalier's lap. She knew she was trembling, could feel it all through her limbs. She could not understand why she felt hot and cold at the same time, and as though she were melting. She worried that parts of her were literally melting. She rested her face on the black soft leather covering the seat of the bench and felt the man looking at her. Her skin prickled up and down as his gaze swept over her exposed ass.

She felt a faint riffle of a breeze against the hair between her legs, then a trickle of moisture—moisture! She clamped her legs as tightly as her position allowed. The kneeling portion of the bench was sloped somewhat, so her knees did not slip on the surface, but she know her skin was starting to perspire. What was he going to do now?

She felt a soft touch along the back of her thigh, right above her knee. It drifted higher and higher until a large slightly rough hand rested gently against her bottom. It lifted and then suddenly it cracked down upon her skin, hard.

"Oh!" she gasped. That had stung. She felt the heat of the sting spread across her cheek and then his hand rubbing it.

"Count them," he said.

"Oh," she said again. "O-one."

His hand lifted and came crashing down again with a sharp smack. Her whole body involuntarily jerked with the blow. "Two." She choked the word out and her breath came faster still. Suddenly a flurry of blows descended upon her. These were swift, unrelenting. She counted them as she squirmed, seeking purchase with her knees, trying to escape them. "Fourteen...fifteen..."

Her voice grew higher and higher and she could barely catch her breath for the fire landing on her ass, spreading through her, setting all parts of her afire. The blows rarely landed in the same place twice. He smacked the right cheek, the left cheek, the top , where her bottom almost met the small of her back, the underside where it met her thighs.

She could feel her breasts pressed tight against the bench. Her eyes clenched shut. She felt her bottom compress under each blow, then an embarrassing wiggling sensation as the shockwave of each blow traversed her body.

He paused for a moment and allowed her to gasp some air to her overtaxed lungs. She felt like she had run for miles, as if she were flying, as if she were made out of pure fire. The last five blows were placed deliberately, each snapping against a slightly different part of her behind, with the last two feeling like strong thumping whallops on the extra-tender undercurve.

The blows ceased suddenly, and the only sound in the room was of thunderous breath. Her breaths were hitching and shuddering, her body was shaking, but she thought she felt a responding tremor in his legs beneath her. Certainly he was gasping along with her.

Then she felt the soft, soft caresses of his rough hands all over her burning, tingling skin. The warmth from the surface of her ass sank down into the muscles beneath, into the parts of her that now felt slick and alive, through all of her bones. She felt as languorous and dazed as she had earlier when she awoke to find herself bound in this room.

"Get up now, slowly," she felt his voice purring into her all along her right side. She slowly stood and swayed. "Walk to the bed and lay face down."

Like a sleepwalker she placed one foot in front of the other until she bumped into the soft coverlet on the bed. She crawled, forgetting all modesty, onto the fur and sank gratefully into it. The fur emitted the sensation of thousands of tiny fingers caressing her body, buoying her on a cloudlike softness such as she had never before experienced.

She laid there, ass aching and burning, and the new aching inside her belly, and below. She felt him rustling next to the bed, then kneeling upon it. His hands, covered with some slippery fragrant oil, began to rub gently all over her backside. The scent of chamomile flowers filled the air with their summery scent. He rubbed and kneaded any lingering pain from her—but there had been little pain, really, she was surprised to notice. The smacks had stung, but not hurt her. And this massage felt wonderful.

There was an empty yearning inside her that she did not understand, however. And when he began to speak, she almost could not understand him because she was so distracted by it. "I would like you to stay with me," he said, "as a servant of sorts, but also as my honored guest. I will dress you in fine samite and soft leathers. I will feed you the most delicious delicacies, and servants will wait upon you. All you need do is allow me this, and other liberties, of your body. We would do nothing you do not wish to do, and you will feel untold pleasures. What say you to this plan?"

"What do you mean?" she slurred huskily.

"I would like you to become my slave to sensual pleasures, my body servant," he answered. "For a year and a day, as my handfasted lover."

She roused slightly. "Handfasted?" she asked.

"Yes. It's a position of honor," he said. "You will not simply be a concubine, and if you choose to return to your village at the end of this time, no one will judge you harshly."

"What must I do in return?"

"Obey me. Allow me to do these things to you, as it pleases you. Do them in turn to me, if it pleases you. But you will obey me completely, and be my slave, if only in bedroom matters. I will spank you, just as I have this night, flog you or whip you even, and not only here," his hand caressed the tender curves of her ass, "But I will not harm you, only bring you pleasure."

His hands stilled on her as he awaited her answer. She thought for several moments, then slowly rolled over until her hypersensitive skin brushed the mink coverlet and she met his eyes.

"Yes," she said.

***

Her skin was electric. Betran rubbed her ass and felt the heat of my slaps against my hands, which were in turn tingling with the memory of each blow. He felt as though his hands must remain connected to her. When she laid on the black fur she was a vision in three colors: black hair, fur, eyelashes against her cheeks; red ropes on arms and legs, and red glowing ass; and all that white, white skin. Against the fur she was a figure of pearl, a glowing moon goddess. The curving line of her back up to the mound of her bottom was something a master craftsman would be proud of. The way the ropes bit into her skin along her legs suggested the ripest of peaches, as if all the life and juiciness of her body was awaiting a bite to explode in his mouth.

He bent down and replaced his hands with his tongue. He lapped at the rosy skin, felt its warmth against his lips. He licked over the curves from her thighs upward until her ass glistened. He pulled back to admire the tableau: wet, pink, round. Betran bent and carefully bit her skin, just where the left mound curved inward to the secret recesses of her body. He purred against the sensation of taut skin and resilient flesh under his teeth.

She gasped and wriggled, but not away. Instead she pressed back against him. He took a final lick, up the center of her crack from the creamy welcome of her pussy, up over the puckered star of her anus, and upward still, to trail along her spine, to end nuzzling into the fragrant curve of her shoulder.

"What is your name?" he murmured.

"Leora," she murmured. "And what may I call you, my lord?"

"You may style me as your lord in public, but in our chambers you may call me Bertran." He rubbed kisses along her neck. "Now, roll over."

She stretched languorously, rolled. The sight of her nipples shocked him anew. They were so long and red. He wanted to suck them like candies, bite them. Smack them. He stared at them, engulfed in a tumult of images. Finally he glanced up, saw her face. She was biting her lip and looked so worried that he spoke without thinking, "No, you must only call me Bertran when you want me to touch you, to kiss you, to whip you or to fuck you."

***

Now her face was scarlet as her ass. She had heard that word before. It shocked her. She wished to retreat to her quiet watchful guise, say nothing. And the way he looked at her breasts—as if they were an oddity he could not fathom. Her arms remained tied, uncomfortably compressed behind her. Her chest was thrust out so obscenely, the nipples jutting horridly, the way they always did. Her eyes swam with tears.

He saw the moisture gather in her eyes. He commanded, "Tell me what hurts you. Is it your arms?" Without awaiting a reply he began reaching around her to loosen the knots.

"No," she whispered, "though they are beginning to ache a bit." He continued to untie her.

"What is the problem then?" he asked. Her arms were loosed from their bindings and he chafed them to help the blood return her hands. He rubbed her shoulders.

"I am shy. And I know my body..." she trailed off miserably.

"Is beautiful?" he prompted.

"Oh. Well, thank you my lord." She kept her gaze on the wooden floor next to the bedstead.

"Do you fear you are not beautiful?"

"I...I know I look different. Here especially." She waved her hand diffidently, in the direction of her chest. "I would like to please you."

He smiled. "I will demonstrate how much you please me. How beautiful I find all of you, but especially some parts."

Leora felt a wave of confusion. She never thought of herself as beautiful. And how would he demonstrate? What should she be doing? She sat and awaited instruction.

Somehow he knew, once again, what she was feeling. "This is what I require from you, at all times: firstly, do what I tell you. Unless it is anathema to you, and then explain which commands feel wrong to you. I will allow this for now, though later, I may simply require your submission. Secondly, do what feels good to you in your responses. Unless I say otherwise, you may make any noises that come to you, move against my hand or mouth or body as it pleases you, or situate your limbs in more comfortable positions. If you are in deep discomfort, tell me. If you are in pain, I must know immediately—though there is pain and there is pain. Sometimes pain becomes pleasure if you give it a moment. Other times it tells you something is wrong. If something seems more than you can bear, say so. Finally, if you feel confused or uncertain, await instruction, or ask what my pleasure is. I am happy to guide you."

He lifted her chin with his fingers. "Does this instruction help you?"

She nodded, eyes still downcast.

He continued. "Right now I want you to lay on your back. Arrange your limbs so you are comfortable, but allow me to move you as I need to. Just close your eyes, and allow me to demonstrate where I find you especially beautiful."

Leora lowered herself to the fur coverlet. She stretched out her legs, which were still twined with ropes, and her hands came up to rest next to the pillow under her head. She felt exposed once more. The early evening sun was pouring into the west window, and she knew the chevalier could see every bit of her skin, her hair, clearly. She pressed her body down into the bed by relaxing her tensed muscles, closed her eyes and waiting.

"I find this quite beautiful," she heard him murmur, then felt his lips brush against her thigh, just above her knee. Something wet coursed up her leg—his tongue, she thought.

"Your legs, so long, so lovely." He licked back down over her thigh, swirled around her kneecap, then over the outer curve of her calf. He licked and kissed his way back up the other leg, until his tongue darted into the closed seam of her thighs, which she had tightly pressed together.

Each kiss felt like a jolt, like the time she had started to fall from her horse, but had caught herself. The same swooping nervous shock arose in her belly with each kiss. And each lick was a path of silky fire, as if the softest rose petals were caressing her skin. Every once in a while she felt the roughness of his chin scrape behind the licking paths, and somehow the scratch of that lent an even greater tremor to the sensations she felt.

"I find this quite, quite beautiful." She gasped. He was pressing kisses into the hair between her legs! She felt these as little presses of his face against her, but then felt his tongue on her belly. "This is beautiful." He licked over her navel.

"You already must know that I believe your ass is exquisitely beautiful—I have already kissed it, and will do so again later. For now, know that your hips are also so beautiful. I love their roundness." His mouth wandered over one hip, his tongue darting out to tickle her hipbone. He kissed the other hip as well.

"While I see the loveliness of your arms, shoulders, hands, neck, and most assuredly your face and hair..." his voice trailed off.

Leora opened her eyes. He was staring at her breasts. She felt her skin heat with shame. He had skipped over them, and had kindly not mentioned their strange shape, but the way he stared! Her hands flashed up to cover them.

He caught her hands and pulled them away. "But perhaps the most beautiful part of you, other than your ass perhaps—I'm still not sure which is more lovely—are these." With that, his head dropped down and his lips closed over a raspberry red nipple. His cheeks hollowed and he sucked it into his mouth, and Leora felt a great rushing wave inside her, like a sudden northeastern wind that bent all the trees in the forest at once. The way this felt! She knew no words that could describe it. She arched into his mouth with a small cry.