The Viking's Conquest by Felicity Brandon

Author:Felicity Brandon [Brandon, Felicity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2016-10-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen: A Public Chastisement

Anders offers me one last fleeting glance before striding toward the box, leaving me kneeling alone. The guards, having now finished their duty, fall back to either side of the stage by both staircases and Magnus stands away to the left. As Anders seats himself on the fur-lined wood, all attention turns to me, the kneeling, trembling naked woman.

At this moment there must be more than one hundred pairs of eyes on me. Each and every one of them scans my nudity, sensing the tension in the air and wondering—hoping—about what will now transpire. Now apparently comfortable, Anders beckons to me with his right hand, gesturing for me to join him. My knees, pressed hard into the unforgiving wood of the platform, scream as I lurch forward onto all fours. I move in the most undignified way a lady can—crawling over to Anders—until I again reach his boots. A memory of yesterday flashes through my mind and I recall how those feet had felt upon my back when he had used me as his own personal footrest. I simmer with arousal at the thought, glancing up to him and wondering if he too is considering the memory.

He directs me to his right side and obediently I go, falling into the same ready position that he has spanked me in twice already. I sit on my haunches as he addresses the crowd, watching his right hand as it falls to my left breast and plays casually with my nipple.

“I will now punish my captive with an over-the-knee spanking!”

As expected, the noise of the crowd swells in response to this proclamation and the excited tension in my belly twists, sending a bolt of desire through me. The air between Anders and me is somehow palpable. I am torn between the need for his reassuring glance and the mortifying knowledge of what he intends to do to me. My nipple beads in his fingers and he turns to me smiling.

“Over my knee,” he says simply, removing his hands from my bud and patting his lap.

For a split second I want to protest; to refuse him. I want to remind him who I am and that I cannot be treated this way. The rebellion rises in me, reaching my chest and threatening to choke me. I wonder if it also reaches my eyes, as there’s a flash of enquiry in Anders’ as he appraises me. I take a long, deep breath and close my eyes for a moment. Under my lids in the darkness the memory of last night consumes me. I remember how Anders had made me feel as he had worshipped my body with his own hands, mouth, and manhood. I recall how tender he had been, and how he had comforted me after my tumultuous dream. I exhale loudly, knowing already what I must do, and am moving forward over his body even before I have reopened my eyes.

Anders is seated along the box to the right

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