Sunday Snog #93: Rajasthani Moon

Hello, everyone,

I've got a brand new excerpt from Rajasthani Moon for your pleasure today. It's mostly BDSM (but then, I know that won't bother you!), but there are some kisses near the end.

After you've read my snog, be sure to head over to Victoria's place for more luscious lip-locks. And get read for the 100th Sunday Snog (it will be my 95th) on the 22nd of September. There'll be lots of prizes up for grabs!

“Do I need to whip you? I’d be glad to.” Her skin chilled as he stepped away from her body, taking his heat with him. With her face turned in the opposite direction, she couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard him moving around the cave. Her clit pulsed like a radio beacon, broadcasting her need and demanding attention. Her scent rose around her, overwhelming the musty dampness of the cave. She tried to relax, to let some of her arousal drain away. She would not—could not—allow him to break her. He seemed to know, though, that she could bear pain a good deal better than sexual frustration.

She recalled receiving her instructions, back in London. Z looked more like an elderly country vicar than the head of Her Majesty’s secret service. “We are all relying on you, Miss Harrowsmith,” he’d told her. “The Queen believes that, given the reported youth and virility of these rebel princes, you are the ideal operative for this mission. I will not deny, however, that we are sending you into grave danger. You must remain in control at all times.”

Remain in control. The recollection was bitter. Here she was, in her enemy’s hands, more or less helpless to resist.

But she would resist. She swore it.

She sensed Pratan moving behind her. Something whistled as it flew through the air. A trail of fire raced across her left buttock.

“Ow! Oh my God!” Whoosh! The whip, or switch, or whatever it was, cut a path of agony across her other cheek. “Ay! Ow!”

“Just tell me who you are, lady, and I’ll stop. Until then…” Whoosh! Another stroke sliced into her flesh. Every blow magnified the pain of the previous one. “Ow! Oh…oh…”

“Talk to me. Let it out.” Whoosh! More pain flared.

He lashed her again and again and yet again, until her arse felt like he’d doused it in kerosene and set it alight. When she thought she couldn’t bear another instant, he moved downward, applying the switch to the even more sensitive skin at the backs of her thighs.

Cecily tried to distance herself from the agony. It’s not pain, she told herself. It’s pleasure. Remarkably, she found herself getting aroused again. It’s not his whip, she imagined. It’s his cock. She felt the echoes of his fingers delving in her quim. Each vicious, searing stroke of the switch brought her closer to spending.

“Damn it, woman, you’re stubborn!” Her captor’s whip clattered to the floor. He moved closer, gripping her abused buttocks, digging his nails into her lacerated flesh. New sparks sizzled down to her clit.

Smooth hardness prodded her butt. “Oh…” She moaned despite her determination to remain silent as he parted her lower lips. With a single powerful thrust, he seated himself inside her, driving her to the very edge.

“Oh, by Krishna’s blue body!” Pratan withdrew slightly, then rammed his cock back in, forcing her body against the column. The pressure on her clit sent waves of pleasure crashing through her. “You feel… You’re so… Oh my God—uh!—uh!—uh!”

His massive cock stretched her to the limit of endurance, yet when he pulled out, the loss brought tears to her eyes. He fucked her hard, slamming her against the pillar with every stroke. The bark scraped her tender skin—the sting transmuted as if by magic to incredible delight. Her climax hovered, a breath, a touch, away but she didn’t strain or struggle to reach it. She was more than content to simply have her captor fill her, over and over, while she hung in her bonds and shuddered with the pleasure of being possessed.

Pratan’s strokes grew wilder and faster. Cecily’s experience told her the man was close to his own spending. Still, his sudden explosion inside her quim took her by surprise, sweeping her away with him. Pain and pleasure knotted together in her belly, then flew apart. A million strands of ecstasy threaded through her, and the world dissolved into sparkling shards of colour.

He clung to her as his breathing slowed, his chest flat against her back, his powerful arms encircling both her body and the pillar that supported it. His organ still nestled near the entrance to her cleft. The roughness of his pubic hair scratched her punished arse. Each twinge was strangely sweet.

“Oh,” he murmured close to her ear. “That was incredible. Too wonderful for words.”

Still shimmering from the aftershocks of her own climax, Cecily could only nod. Pratan brushed his lips across her cheek, then trailed kisses down the side of her neck. After the fury of his fucking, his tenderness astonished her. Wonder and gratitude swelled in her chest. She wanted to fasten her mouth on his, but that was impossible in her current position.

“Set me free, Pratan-ji. I can give you even more pleasure…”

“Soon, very soon…” He nibbled her earlobe, then sucked it into his mouth. Cecily’s clit jumped as though he suckled the lower nub instead. “Ah, but what shall I call you? I want to be able to scream out your name as we spend together.”

“Cecily,” she sighed, as he pressed into her, grinding her still-pulsing clit against the column. “My name is Cecily.”