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.
