The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(31)

Beatrice raised her hands, nails out as she tried to twist in his grasp.

Rhys effortlessly subdued her. “Put away your claws. Once was enough for me,” he laughed.

Twisting the elegant lace neckline of her dressing gown with his long fingers, Rhys ruthlessly pulled, rending the fabric in two down to her stomach. Beatrice cried out and tried to shield her body from both the glaring reflection and his piercing gaze.

Rhys knocked her hands away as he grasped her bared breasts from behind. The stark contrast of his strong, tanned hands lying next to her soft, creamy pale skin was both horrid and fascinating. His barbarous embrace sent a shock of pain through her body as he pressed and gripped the flesh he was claiming as his own.

“Tear the rest of your gown open,” he commanded. “I want to see the pretty cunny I was denied earlier.”

Beatrice had no words. She could only stare still mesmerized by the brutally beautiful sight.

Rhys eased his grip on her rounded curves only to roll her pert pink nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. With no warning, he pinched the delicate buds till they turned almost white.

Beatrice rolled her head back on his chest, her petite form too small to reach his shoulder, as she rose on her tip-toes, clawing at his wrists, trying to escape the sharp, agonizing pain.

“Stop! Stop! It hurts!”

“Obey me.”

Still Beatrice resisted. Rhys lightened the pressure on her nipples ever so slightly. The moment he felt rather than heard her exclaimed breath of relief, he gave them a vicious twist. Feeling her howl of response as it vibrated through her chest.

“Obey me,” he relentlessly repeated.

Beatrice fumbled to grasp the torn folds of her dressing gown. When she reached the end, she gave the fabric a sharp pull. Nothing.

“It…it won’t tear,” she whined, breathless from the pain in her nipples.

“Try harder,” he ground out.

Beatrice clawed at the silk that still covered her stomach. Digging her long, crimson nails into its softness, she tore it straight past the hem. Unlike most women of her stature who were soft and rounded from days of leisurely doing needlepoint or reading, Beatrice was toned and slim. Her days were filled with running the perfumery, riding and other active pursuits.

Rhys took in her trim waist, flat stomach and shapely thighs. Her beautiful cunny was sparsely covered by honey brown curls. They did nothing to hide the delicate lips from his heated gaze.

Rhys released her tortured nipples. Gliding his hands over her shoulders to sweep her thick mass of hair aside, he slid the edge of his teeth up the column of her neck, past the sensitive skin behind her earlobe. Giving the cute lobe a quick swipe with his tongue, he breathed dark and low, “Touch yourself.”

“I…I don’t know what you mean,” breathed Beatrice.

Rhys captured her gaze in the mirror. “Reach your hand down and caress your cunny for me.”

It would not be the first time Beatrice had explored the forbidden place between her thighs with her own fingers but she would be damned if she would do it in front of this man…at his command.

“Absolutely not,” she fumed, stubbornly raising her chin.

Without a word, Rhys placed his bare foot between her own, kicking her right foot out. It was only his timely grip around her waist that held her upright. With her legs spread wide at an unseemly angle, Rhys raised his hand high. With a quick flick of his wrist, he brought the flat of his fingers down sharply on her exposed cunny. Beatrice cried out, desperately trying to shield herself. Rhys easily captured her flailing arms in a strong grip. Pressing her secured wrists between her breasts, his arm still tightly wrapped around her side, Rhys trapped her against his hard body.

Rhys raised his hand a second time.

“Oh no! Please don’t! Please!” she begged.

His cold green eyes met her own over her reflection as he slowly raised his arm higher. Beatrice watched in horror as his hand swiftly hit its mark a second time.

It was a sharp sting of pain then a spreading warmth. As if she had gotten in a too hot bath. The water flowing over her vulnerable skin causing a burning pang before the skin warmed, adjusting to the heat.

Her cries only seemed to spur him on. Rhys continued to punish the tender skin till it glowed a dark pink through her golden curls.

This was nothing like his first spanking. She could feel the brush of his skin against her own with each punishing hit. The pain was sharper as it radiated over her already sensitive nub.

“Are you ready to be a good girl and obey me?”

Beatrice could only nod as her eyes filled with tears. They both knew they were not only from pain.

“Use your words, Beatrice,” he admonished.

Beatrice sniffed, the space between her thighs hot and pulsing. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ll be good.”

“Touch yourself,” he darkly commanded.

Beatrice lowered a trembling hand over her stomach. With one last pleading look into his cold, emerald eyes, she shifted her long fingers lower.

Heat from the fervor of his punishment radiated in pulsing waves off her skin. The sensation startled Beatrice. She was used to her skin feeling soft and cool to the touch not feverish and sensitive. She closed her eyes as the sharp edge of her fingernail scraped the top of her hidden bud, sending a sharp pulse of pleasure tinged with pain.