A sexy punishment scene from Rajasthani Moon - #SaturdaySpanks #steampunk #menage

Happy Saturday!

I’ve got a very steam Saturday Spanks excerpt for you today, from my steampunk-paranormal-ménage-BDSM-Bollywood romance novel Rajasthani Moon. This is very much an over-the-top fantasy story, but it packs a lot of heat (and love, too!)

Here’s the blurb:

Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission.

Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on a mission. When the remote Indian kingdom of Rajasthan refused to remit its taxes to the Empire, Her Majesty imposed an embargo. Deprived of the energy-rich mineral viridium, essential for modern technology and development, Rajasthan was expected to quickly give in and resume its payments. Yet after three years, the rebellious principality still has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to that rugged, arid land in order to determine just how it has managed to survive, and if possible to convince the country to return to the Empire’s embrace. Instead, she’s taken captive by a brigand, who turns out to be the ruler’s half-brother Pratan, and delivered into the hands of the sexy but sadistic Rajah Amir, who expertly mingles torture and delight in his interrogation of the voluptuous interloper.

Cursed before birth by Amir’s jealous mother, Pratan changes to a ravening wolf whenever the moon is full. Cecily uncovers the counter-spell that can reverse the effects of the former queen’s hex and tries to trade that information for her freedom. Drawn to the fierce wolf-man and sympathising with his suffering, she volunteers to serve as the sacrifice required by the ritual—offering her body to the beast. In return, the Rajah reveal Rajasthan’s amazing secret source of energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful land behind and return to the constraints of her life in England?

And the spanking excerpt:

Pratan seized her by her long hair and hauled her to her feet. Of course, with her ankles bound, she could not walk. Half pulling, half carrying, he bundled her over to the closest pillar, jerked her bound arms up, then pushed her face first against the rough wood. The bark abraded her naked breasts and belly. She tried to squirm away from him, but he leaned his weight against her back while keeping her wrists pinned against the pillar above her head.

“Rebind,” he growled. In a flash the robotic rope unravelled and reconfigured itself, looping tight around both her arms and the column supporting her. Once he was certain she was secure, he dropped to his knees and touched the rope at her ankles. “Unbind.”

Cecily stumbled as the force connecting her ankles disappeared. Her relief at being free was short-lived. Pratan dragged her legs apart and inserted some sort of rigid bar between her shins. “Bind.” Before she could take two breaths, her legs were restrained in a permanently spread position, wide enough to allow her captor easy access to her sex.

Indeed, realising the degree of her exposure made her terribly aware of her quim, which she could not deny was soaked and swollen. You must be strong, she told herself. Think of England.

The cool air of the cave teased her bared flesh. Then a light touch, delicate as a feather, traced its way along the inside of her thigh. Her pussy clenched and moisture dribbled out. The impudent finger smeared the juice across her sensitive skin. Pleasure sparked through her.

“You can’t fight me.” His voice was like warm honey now, all the anger gone. It flowed through her, unbearably sweet. “And I don’t think you want to. There’s no shame in surrendering when you’ve been rendered completely helpless.” Pratan trailed his fingers upward, brushing across her damp nether curls. Lightning struck, searing her aching clit. She convulsed in her bonds, unable to control her reactions.

“Who are you, my plump little dove? Tell me your name.” His roving fingers skimmed the slippery walls of her outer lips. She bit back her moan but couldn’t help arching back to seek more contact. He dipped into her wetness, deeper than before, but only for an instant. She writhed against the pillar, welcoming the scrape of the bark on her taut nipples.

He had three fingers inside her now, or maybe four, plunging in then pulling back before she could tighten her muscles to hold him inside. He still kept well away from her throbbing, needy clit. She ground her pubis against the tree trunk. The indirect pressure offered some relief, but not enough to satisfy her.

Swat! “None of that now!” His calloused palm landed on her bare arse with stunning force. Her soft flesh burnt in the wake of the slap. Meanwhile, the delicious stimulation in her cunny vanished. “I won’t let you spend until you’ve told me what I want to know.” Swat! His second swipe hurt more than the first. Her buttocks wobbled with the power of his third blow. The sting raced straight to her clit.

Cecily chewed at her lip to contain her groans. She’d make the Queen proud.

“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.

* * *

Rajasthani Moon is available in both ebook and print, at Kinky Literature, Amazon, BN, and Totally Bound.