Punished by the Prince Page 5

  “I can’t,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I’m scared.”

  His voice is still low, so quiet I’m sure the guard outside can’t hear. “It’s your choice, Princess. Let me paddle you softly, or let my brother find out you went unpunished and risk whatever punishment he dreams up.”

  I close my eyes hard, trying to calm my breathing.

  “Listen,” he says, kneeling slightly so we’re eye to eye. “Listen to my breaths. Match their pace. Calm yourself and you’ll be fine.”

  I focus in on the slow, steady pace of his breaths, and after a short time I’m able to match their speed, feeling the calm that comes with them, and even feeling my heart rate slow. “You think he would really hurt me?” I ask.

  “I think he would. Yes,” says Roark.

  “Okay then… Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just do this,” I say. My heart is beating out of control and hot blood is rushing through me. I’m going to let a gorgeous prince paddle me, and even the idea makes my pussy glow with heat. I’m surprised by my body’s reaction, though. I’ve never even come close to anything BDSM. I even went as far as to think it was a weird thing for people to be into, but I guess you can’t always choose what turns you on, and in this case, I think even if Roark asked me to watch football with him I’d get turned on.

  He nods. “Turn your back to me.”

  I do as he says, feeling the frantic breath start to creep up again but remembering the sound of his calm and emulating it.

  “Hands on the wall, Princess,” he orders louder this time with a voice like steel, a voice that holds no question of command--of power.

  I press my palms against the cold stone walls, squeezing my eyes shut and thinking about my breathing.

  “Now,” he says, quietly again and leaning over me so that my ass is pressed against his hips. I quiver at the touch, at feeling him against me like this, and I distantly wonder if the touch is intentional, or if he notices at all. “Lift your dress. It will sound louder on your bare skin and I won’t have to hit you as hard.”

  I shake, hands refusing to move. “You won’t look, will you?” I ask.

  “We don’t have long,” he says. “The guard will start to suspect soon.”

  I steel myself. What do I have to lose, anyway? I’m in a place no one has ever heard of, alone in a dark room with a gorgeous Prince who shouldn’t exist, and in the span of a few hours I’ve gone from having dinner with my family to contemplating letting a jaw-droppingly hot stranger spank my bare ass with a leather paddle in the dungeon of a palace. It’s hard to think straight, and feeling his hips against my ass admittedly has heat blossoming between my legs, not to mention the places it’s making my mind wander to.

  I reach back with one hand, hiking up my dress until it’s bunched above my waist and my ass is on not-so-proud display for him.

  “Panties too,” he says.

  I reach for them, but his hand grips my wrist. “I was kidding about the panties,” he says with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I can work around them.”

  I’m too mortified to speak, so I slap my hand back against the wall and press my forehead into the stone, wishing I could pop right through the wall and run away from here without ever looking back.

  The paddle whips across my ass with a healthy popping sound. I jump a little, but more from surprise than from the pain, which is mild at best. There’s a faint tingling and a slight burning from where he hit me, but it’s nowhere near what I imagined. I steal a look backward and find him breathing heavily now, much more heavily than when he had me mirror his calm breaths. His eyes are on my ass and there’s something in his expression I can’t puzzle out, but he brings the paddle back and slaps it across the other side of my ass, this time a little harder.

  “Oh!” I gasp. The pain this time enough to make me jump, sending a red flash of heat from my ass all the way up my spine. I still feel the tingling circle of contact moments after he pulls the paddle away, and as the embers of the stinging die out, I’m surprised to find the faint heat I felt between my legs is now like a fire, and a flurry of confusing thoughts are tearing through my mind. Dirty thoughts, and not about my husband-to-be, but about Roark.

  Those are crazy thoughts though. Dangerous thoughts, and I do my best to silence them before they have a chance to take hold.

  “You’ll need to make it sound more painful than that,” says Roark, “Or my brother may think I went easy on you and finish the job himself.”

  He brings the paddle down again, just barely missing the spot from before. I jump a little, but the pain barely registers now. All I can think about is the way his command over me is driving my body wild. I think about how completely and totally I’m in his power, and about how much power he has in this moment, and every instinct in my body is crying out to touch him.

  6

  Roark

  I watch the faint circle of red rise up just beside the hem of her panties, loving the way goosebumps rise on her smooth ass. With every blow, I feel the darkness within me recede. With every gasp from her beautifully plump lips, I feel myself stepping more and more into control. But no blood has been shed. No men lie bleeding at my feet. And if the growing patch of moisture on Elizabeth’s panties are any indication, It’s safe to say no harm has even been done here.

  I bring my arm back to swing again, but realize I don’t need to. The darkness has retreated farther into me than I’ve ever known it to, and for the first time in years I feel at peace. I feel calm, collected, and even hopeful.

  “That,” I say, barely catching my breath. “That should be enough.”

  She stands, giving me one last cock-stiffening view of her ass and those white panties before she pulls her dress down. She turns her large, innocent green eyes up at me, lips slightly parted. “What happens now?” she asks.

  I clench my teeth together because I know the truth. Elizabeth must marry my brother, and I have no choice but to send her back to her room where she will wait until he summons her tomorrow. Unless I can think of an alternative that doesn’t end with the city in flames. “Now? Our time together is over. You go back to your room, and back to my brother.”

  She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something but closes it, lowering her eyes and turning her back to me.

  I wait too, half-hoping she’ll say something. What, though? What is it I hope she’ll say? Do I hope she’ll profess her undying love for me because I beat her ass with a leather paddle? Do I want her to task me to help get her away from here to somewhere safe?

  “Are you going to open the door for me?” she asks.

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, moving past her to put my hand on the door. “Elizabeth. You should kn--”

  The guard opens the door before I can. I can tell from his expression he’s impatient by now, and he reaches to grab Elizabeth’s arm. Quicker than thought, I slap his hand away. “She can walk without you man-handling her,” I say.

  He looks at me, a touch longer than he should given his station, and then leads Elizabeth back up the way we came down.

  I linger long after they’ve gone, surveying the room as if seeing it for the first time. I’ve been down to the dungeons, of course. I’ve never used any of the implements here on a woman though--let alone a woman as alluring as Elizabeth. My cock still throbs against my pants almost painfully from the memory of her. Knowing the pain was bringing her pleasure drove me on, setting something ablaze within me that I fear can only be calmed in one way. With Elizabeth I may have found a way to calm my darkness, but in doing so, I may have unleashed an entirely new beast with appetites all its own.

  I leave the dungeons and head to the eastern wing of the palace, which is reserved for minor nobles. I find Dirk’s door and knock impatiently. I know he’ll either be asleep or with a woman--maybe more than one--but I frankly don’t give a shit.

  I hear a loud thump followed by an annoyed curse. “The fuck do you want?” comes a groggy voice from inside.


  “It’s me. Open the door,” I say.

  The door swings open. I’m greeted by Dirk, whose scraggly brown hair falls over his eyes in disarray. His shirt is half undone and I see a woman’s feet dangling from beneath the covers on his bed.

  “This couldn’t wait?” he asks. “I was sleeping off a night of training. This poor little virgin was utterly inexperienced.” Dirk yawns, stretching luxuriously. “I felt it was my duty to the kingdom to train her for the men that will come after me.”

  I sigh. Dirk is a little older than me--in his mid thirties maybe--and he has an unquenchable appetite for virgin women. Unfortunately for the virgins of the city, he seems to have a great talent for convincing them he’s not a self-absorbed prick.

  “I don’t need a reason to wake you,” I say.

  “Yeah, yeah. Chain of command bullshit. You may not need a reason, but you must have one to interrupt the thing of natural beauty that is my lovemaking.”

  “Looks like you two were sleeping,” I say.

  “Recovering,” he corrects, raising a finger and an eyebrow.

  “Right. Well I need you to look into a legal matter for me. And I need you to keep it quiet. Am I clear?”

  He pushes his hair out of his eyes, watching me closely. “Since when do you have secrets, Roark?”

  “I’ve always had secrets, Dirk. You were just too blind to see them,” I say.

  “Bullshit,” he says. “For all your reputation, you’re transparent as river water to me, brother.”

  I grin. Though you would have to trace our lineage back hundreds of years to find a link, I feel more warmth at being called brother by Dirk than I ever have from Titus.

  “What do you need me to find?” he asks.

  “Any legal measures for a Prince to intervene in an arranged marriage.”

  His eyebrows climb up his forehead. “I’m sure there’s precedent. It will just depend how high up the royal food-chain the man is.”

  “One rung from the top,” I say.

  Dirk frowns. “Are you talking about stopping your brother from marrying Elizabeth?”

  “No. I’m asking if there’s any legal way to do it.”

  “Right,” says Dirk. “Well, I’ve got another round or two in me.” He glances back toward the sleeping form of the woman in his bed and bites his lip. “Maybe three. Then I’ll look into it first thing in the morning. But it could take some time. The fucking royal library is all print. Maybe his royal highness, prince of taking his fucking time, could look into that sometime.”

  “You’re an asshole, but thank you,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “This stays between you and me, Dirk.”

  “That goes without saying.” He takes a step toward the girl and then pauses, turning toward me again. “Be careful. I know you’re the elder brother here, but it’s no secret that your mother favors Titus. If you make an open enemy of him, there’s no telling what lengths those two would go to.”

  “Careful who hears you talking like that,” I say quietly.

  “You think me wrong?” he asks.

  “No, you’re not wrong.”

  He scoffs. “When are you going to decide to stop letting your brother maneuver? He’s clearly trying to weasel his way into the throne. The throne that’s rightfully yours.”

  I grip the front of Dirk’s unfastened shirt, advancing until his back is pressed to the wall. “You forget yourself, brother,” I say.

  “I don’t want to see that man named king. I know you don’t give a shit what happens to this city, but I happen to know there are still countless virgins out there for the taking. If Titus gets his hands on the scepter, he’ll land us in a war we can’t win. Or worse. By the time he’s done, there won’t be any virgins left because we’ll all be fucking dead.”

  I let Dirk go, teeth still clenched. “Your concerns have been heard. You remember what I asked of you? Don’t fail me.”

  He gives me a mock salute before closing the door. “Wake up,” I hear him call cheerily through the door. “It’s time for round three. Or is it four?”

  7

  Elizabeth

  I wake with a gasp, sitting upright and blinking away the sleep. It’s my first morning in Burkewood palace, and the sunrise from this high tower is dazzling. I move to the window, still wearing the gown from last night--the gown I raised for Prince Roark. My cheeks color at the memory of him, the way his hands held so much power, like he could dominate me with the slightest effort, with just the slightest thought he could make my will his own.

  I breathe out, trying not to think of him. If I’m going to survive in this strange, absolutely crazy place that might just be my new reality, I have to be careful. I’ve already learned enough to know anything involving Prince Roark is far from careful. He’s a dangerous man, even if he is mouth-wateringly handsome and darkly mysterious in exactly the right ways.Just thinking of the sharp lines of his jaw and the subtle way his lips curl up when he’s amused make my legs feel like they might give out. And those eyes… A shudder runs through me. Prince Roark is dangerous for me. Very dangerous.

  The city bustles with activity below, but from this height it’s like watching a cross section of an anthill. Red light from the rising sun bathes everything in view, from the rounded roofs of buildings to the criss crossing streets choked with people going about their morning business. There’s a distinctly modern feel to this place, but the lack of cars adds a charm I can’t quite describe, as if there’s a hint of the past here. A hint of simpler times and simpler lives. I can almost imagine I’m living back in medieval times, but with proper plumbing and air conditioning.

  If nothing else about the Shrouded Kingdom appealed to me, I can at least get behind the idea of simple.

  The sound of footsteps echoes up from my staircase. I step back involuntarily, clasping my hands in front of myself and breathing hard, at least until I think back to the slow, steady pace of Prince Roark’s breath and I force myself to his speed. Calm. I may not be able to control much here, but that’s how life has always been for me. I can control myself, and I can make sure I’m calm and composed. This may be a new place, but eighteen years of misery shaped and prepared me for this.

  I let out the breath I was holding when I see Marcella, Kadene, and Niera come gliding up the stairs. They all pause to look at me like I have three heads when they see me.

  “You slept in your dress?” asks Marcella with a disapproving tone.

  “Last night was… difficult,” I say.

  The women waste no more time, swooping in on me like a flock of busy birds, stripping my clothes without embarrassment and unpacking equipment that looks like a portable makeover set. Niera fills up a tub at the edge of my room, keeping her shy eyes down as she works. Kadene is chattering my ear off so quickly I’m only able to catch bits and pieces.

  “...will look so good blonde,” she says.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly, still nowhere near used to being stripped naked in front of three women, not to mention in full view of the circular windows in my room that would give any bored city goer with binoculars quite a show from below.

  “Princess, did you fall on your bum?” asks Marcella. “It looks a little red.”

  My cheeks immediately burn. The memory of Roark and the paddle come back to me. I can still hear the smack of leather against my skin. “Y-yes. I sleepwalk. I tripped on the stairs.”

  Marcella makes a sound of disapproval. “That will not do. We’ll have to have a door or a gate put in front of those stairs to keep you safe.”

  “Prince Titus is hardly going to be able to keep his hands off you,” says Kadene, who is openly admiring my naked body, despite my futile attempts to cover myself.

  “Kadene!” snaps Marcella. “You’re speaking to the Princess!”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “So, um, what is the protocol on that anyway? The touching part, I mean.”

  “If you want to get technical,” says Kadene. “You’re not to be touched by anyone, includin
g your groom-to-be until the wedding ceremony. If any male but Titus touches your skin, he has the right to a blood challenge or they will be thrown in the dungeons to rot.”

  “That sounds a little extreme,” I say. “What is a blood challenge?” I ask.

  “Kadene!” hisses Marcella, who this time sneaks a look at Niera.

  I follow her eyes, and notice that Niera looks on the verge of crying, but she’s trying to hold herself together.

  Kadene winces and mouths “sorry,” to Marcella.

  After a few moments pass, Marcella leans close to me, speaking in a low whisper. “Niera’s parents were killed because of a blood challenge, which is how she wound up here working as a servant. A blood challenge is issued when certain laws are broken--justice isn’t met until blood has been drawn, but more often than not a blood challenge ends in death on one side.”

  A chill runs through me. “Even if the touch is innocent?” I ask. “It still means all that?” My mind goes back to yesterday when Calian walked me into the palace. Surely he touched me at some point, didn’t he? What if someone saw and he’s in danger now?

  “It’s a little more complicated than that. It is up to the promised groom to make issue of a touch. He is the ultimate judge of innocence or guilt. Among commoners or lesser nobles, a royal representative is brought in to arbitrate, but Prince Titus would not have to answer to anyone. He could challenge or jail any man who touched you if he wished.”

  Like Roark. Even though Roark said he was going to issue the punishment to the guard, I’m beginning to think he wasn’t acting purely out of my best interests or his brothers. He definitely put his hands on me. Or did he? I can't even remember now. Maybe he only touched me through my clothes and with the paddle? But even so, we were behind closed doors and I’m sure if Titus wanted to lay an accusation against him, he would have a case.

  “There’s no one he has to answer to? Even his older brother or the queen?” I ask.