Prisoner of Desire Read Free Page B

straining for its satisfaction. ‘Tell me, my Isobel, have you ever been spanked before?’ he asked softly.
    ‘S-spanked?! Oh no, Alasdair, no !’
    ‘Oh yes, Isobel! You are proving to be a very disobedient little wench, and perhaps a good spanking will begin to teach you that it will be far more pleasurable for you should you begin to obey me.’ Alasdair smiled, twisting Isobel in his arms and exposing her to face the rest of the men, for it was apparent how much they were enjoying the display she was so unwillingly putting on. Covering her breasts with his hands, he pinched sharply at her nipples again as he waited for the stool to be brought to him, rolling them between his fingers and revelling in her soft little moans of distress.
    A squat wooden stool was placed in front of them, ideal for what Alasdair wanted. Kissing Isobel’s throat once more before sitting down upon it, for Alasdair feared he was already becoming addicted to the taste of her upon his lips, he straddled the stool and laid her face down across his lap. He ran his hands along the length of her back, smiling slightly as she shuddered underneath his touch, and then rested one large hand on her rounded buttocks. ‘You really are very beautiful, my Isobel,’ he said gently. ‘I meant what I said, my lovely – I will have you regardless of what you do to fight against me, but I would far rather you accepted me. I can give you great pleasure if only you will accept my mastery of you and Glen Carrick.’
    Isobel twisted her head around to look back at him and glared at him proudly despite her utter lack of dignity. ‘That, Alasdair, will never happen!’ She ignored the wicked voice in the back of her mind that was urging her to give into him, for just the gentle caress of his hands was inflaming her desire for him further with every passing moment.
    Alasdair yearned so desperately for Isobel to admit to her desire for him that her words filled him with a burning rage. Drawing back his hand, he struck her buttocks sharply, his cock twitching where it was pressed against her stomach as she flinched, colour instantly flooding to the skin. ‘Again I ask you, Isobel!’ he snarled, all uncharacteristic tenderness disappearing in the face of his consuming lust for her. ‘Will you confess to your desire for me?!’
    ‘No!’
    Her stubborn refusal tore away the very last of his self-control. Alasdair spanked her again and again. Every involuntary moan that broke forth from her tightly clenched lips was a fresh thrill to him, and he could barely even think clearly under the weight of the heated blood pounding through every vein and sinew of his body.
    However, even in the highly-strung state of lust and agitation that had gripped him, Alasdair slowly began to recognise that the moans Isobel was making as she writhed against his legs were no longer simple moans of agony – he had heard enough of those in his time to know the difference, and the sounds that his Isobel was now making were, he was convinced, moans of pleasure.
    Astounded that she seemed to be drawing pleasure from the spanking, Alasdair paused to test his suspicion. He was delighted, for though his intention had been only to punish her for her disobedience, the thought of the innocent maiden finding enjoyment in his sadistic pleasures thrilled him deeply. ‘Isobel?’ he muttered hoarsely, tracing the curve of her buttocks with his fingers and forcing her thighs apart. ‘Isobel, my lovely, are you enjoying this?!’
    She shook her head hastily, but it was a lie. Though it had been the very last thing she had expected would happen, as she had slowly become accustomed to the stinging pain each time his hand descended upon her buttocks, Isobel’s pain had receded to be replaced by far more pleasurable sensations; a clenching, consuming ache in her very core that only increased every time that Alasdair struck her. However much she tried to ignore it, she could not hold back her soft moans,