To Her Master Born by Maria Isabel Pita

Author:Maria Isabel Pita
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: slave, sm, submission, bondage, erotic domination, domination, master, erotic romance, bdsm, erotica, cp, romantic erotica, punishment
Publisher: Maria Isabel Pita

Chapter Eight

Isabella has never seen Lady Wulvedon looking more beautifully regal. Her lavender gown’s hip-length, form-fitting bodice is exquisitely textured by a design of interwoven vines embroidered in light-blue thread. The skirt is a luminous violet twilight and the half sleeves are misty veils. This is also the first time she has seen Bridget wearing jewelry—a breathtaking necklace of sapphire flowers accentuates the whiteness of her skin, as do matching earrings and a bracelet. Her long hair is piled up on top of her head in an elaborate spiral as smooth and shiny as a seashell. The only touch marring her elegant, almost ethereal, look is her deep and heavy cleavage.

“My poor dear,” she touches Isabella’s hollow-eyed face with her cool fingertips, “you look exhausted.”

“I could not sleep, my lady.”

“Too much on your mind?”

“Oh yes.”

Laughing softly, Bridget turns away, the rustling of her skirt at once crisply efficient and soothingly sensual. “Well, then,” she sinks gracefully into what appears to be her favorite chair in Isabella’s room, “what am I to learn today?”

“You look so beautiful, my lady!”

“Why, thank you.” Bridget’s tone is light, but the almost shy way she glances down at her bracelet seems to indicate she is more pleased by the impulsive compliment than she cares to admit, and this evidence of vulnerability to her opinion amazes Isabella. More than ever, she wishes she could have stayed in bed this morning, safely cocooned in dreams and soft white sheets. Because all she can think about is what Bridget cannot learn today or any other day—that Isabella lost her virginity to her brother last night.

“I am sorry, my lady, but I did not have the opportunity to prepare a lesson.” She wrings her hands and looks over at her books, which she lined up in neat rows on a table after unpacking her trunk again, mentally fishing for an interesting subject to feed her student. But nothing seems interesting compared with last night, which was so intense it overflows her ability to remember it clearly. What happened keeps coming back to her in vivid flashes that kick her in the womb and make their way up to her head from there, where what she sees leaves her feeling even more dazed.

“Isabella,” Lady Wulvedon says sharply, “do you admit to neglecting your duties?”

“Oh no.” Her stomach clenches around an unsettling emptiness, she did not have time to eat breakfast. “I simply thought I would leave it up to you today what you wish to pursue in more depth,” she improvises. “We have touched upon history and philosophy, science and literature, all subjects in which you clearly have a more than adequate foundation. Now we need to determine how deeply you wish to delve into each one.”

Bridget’s smile returns with all the threatening moodiness of a cat’s swishing tail. “Very pretty speech, Isabella.” She touches the sapphire flowers around her neck as if enjoying the cold kiss of the precious stones against her skin. “It was such a lovely little fabrication, I will pretend not to notice you are daring to lie to me, which is a grave mistake.

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