Sins of the Flesh: A Red Cardinals novella by Felicity Brandon

Author:Felicity Brandon [Brandon, Felicity]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2020-08-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Delia

The humiliation of this moment was greater than any she’d previously known. To be stood, stripped from the waist down, save for the tiny lace thong she had thought it appropriate to wear this morning, in front of these men was unbearable. The sense of injustice was one thing. That burned inside her like a beacon, goading her each time Turner stretched another boundary. This wasn’t supposed to be happening! When her uncle had suggested this place, she had expected a few days of prayers and silence; hours of skull-crushing boredom, but not this. She had never imagined this. Worse though, was her own body’s reaction to it all. For all her very real mortified embarrassment, she was enjoying it, and of that, there could be no doubt. Delia had a good idea how wet her pussy was; she could feel the slick moisture between her legs as she stood beside Cardinal Turner.

Oh God, she thought, silently praying to that monolithic being to which she held no allegiance. Oh God, please don’t let him see how wet I am. Please don’t let it be obvious. It was bad enough that Brogan would have a clear view of her exposed, and already punished backside, but the thought that Turner could tell how excited she was made her want to cry. Her blushes on that one, solitary issue were saved as Turner took her hand again. He squeezed it gently, making her meet his eyes for one heart-stopping second, until he yanked her back down.

In a flash, the onslaught began again. Turner’s palm fell down over her bared cheeks, peppering them with countless small strikes. Delia gasped, the sensations had so much more clarity now that the protection of her jeans had been removed. Now, she could feel the impact of each individual finger as it landed with his palm, and the sound was different, too. Not only louder, but more booming, each swat echoing around the room as the strikes rained down.

“You have been a bad girl, Delia,” Turner told her in little more than a growl.

She tensed at his words, clenching her cheeks as his cruel palm made contact with her defenceless flesh again.

“You have taken what did not belong to you,” the cardinal continued, landing strike after strike as he listed her offences. “You have thought only of yourself; for your own carnal needs and desires, and you have thought nothing for the people who have loved and cared for you.”

Somehow hearing the words out loud was harder to bear than the sting of her flesh. It was embarrassing enough being bared and turned over a cardinal’s lap, but to know the reason she was there was her own foolish lust for Steve Furst—that was just intolerable. What had she seen in him anyway? He was just an immature boy, with no discernible charms or assets to speak about. He was nothing compared to the men who now bore witness to her penance. And he wasn’t even close to the man who administered it.

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