Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
He shook his head and pulled back the covers, patting the sheets to indicate I should get in. “Charlotte, I love you. With all my heart. But that? Will never, ever happen.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
(Matthew)
Because of the garden party later in the afternoon, the family didn’t gather for breakfast. We were served in our rooms, and I let Charlotte sleep while the staff brought in a cart and assembled our meal quietly, so as not to disturb her.
They also brought my special request, which raised some confused eyebrows when I’d asked about it late the night before. A whole ginger root and a very sharp knife.
Once the servants were gone, I sat on the edge of the bed and set to work carving the root into the necessary shape. Charlotte stirred, and for a moment, I felt guilty about the punishment I’d planned for her.
I cut two branches off the ginger and set them aside. “Good morning, princess.”
“Is that breakfast?” she asked without opening her eyes. “It smells spicy.”
“Oh, it’s spicy,” I said with a chuckle. “Breakfast is here, but this is your punishment.”
She opened her eyes, saw what I was doing, and instantly understood.
That was one of the things I loved about Charlotte. She was on my level, kink-wise. She knew what was going to happen.
“Oh no,” she whispered, more to herself than to me.
“This will be your punishment whenever you disobey me the way you did last night.” I lifted a brow, slicing a long section of peel from the root. “Unless you’d like to beg for mercy now?”
She visibly swallowed.
“Have you ever done this before?” I asked.
She shook her head and finally found her voice. “No, my dragon. But I deserve to be punished.”
“That’s right.” Two unpeeled knobs remained on either side of the main bit I’d carved. I left them. I’d lucked out; the root was the perfect shape. “Get on your stomach.”
“Right…now?” But she rolled over obediently.
I nudged her legs apart and knelt over her, a knee on either side of one of her thighs. “Two things you need to be prepared for,” I began, parting her cheeks. I gave the root a little squeeze, so that a drop of the raw ginger juice fell on her asshole. She jolted. “First, we’re not going to use lube.” I pushed the root firmly into her and she hissed in pain, her body going tense. I smirked to myself. I loved this particular form of torture, both performing it and receiving it. “Lube will create too much of a barrier.”
“What’s the second thing?” she whimpered.
I sat back and took up one of the knobs of ginger I’d discarded. “This is going to hurt worse than anything we’ve done. It’s going to hurt a lot.”
“It’s not too bad—” she began, but when I slapped her ass and she clenched up, her high-pitched shriek contradicted her. “Motherfucker!”
“You see, the burn is going to get worse the more the juice squeezes out.” I picked up the knife and sliced a bit of the smaller piece off, then worked it beneath her, pushing it between her labia so the fresh-cut side was trapped firmly against her clit. “And you might think to yourself, ‘well, I just won’t move.’ But that’s what this piece is for.”
Her breathing sped up as the stinging herb worked on her clit.
“I’m sure your ass is on fire by now. Throbbing, because your blood is going to pound into all that irritated tissue. It has the same effect on your clit. Except, when blood rushes to that… Well, you’ll want to squirm, won’t you? You’ll get so stiff and engorged and achy, all you’ll want is an orgasm. But every time you do move…”
I gave her ass another smack. She tightened up and cursed.
“See? Clenching up makes it burn more. Now, you’re going to stay like this…” I reached for my phone to set a timer. “I think five minutes is long enough to learn your lesson without your breakfast getting cold.”
“Five minutes?” she gasped in outrage.
“And next time you disobey, it will be seven. I think I’ll keep a tally. Add two minutes to your punishment every time you defy me.” I tapped the screen to start the countdown, then propped the phone on a pillow near her head. “Watch the clock, please.”
I regretted using my phone, because the sight of her lying naked across my bed, held in bondage only by her own self-control, was something I would have loved to keep a picture of.
I went to the cart where our breakfast waited and put the silver dome back over Charlotte’s plate to keep her food warm. Then, I assessed the situation. There wasn’t a great place to eat in the bedroom. My main decorating focus as a teenager had been “space to hold all my junk.”
The balcony wasn’t an option, since the garden was crawling with staff setting up for the lunchtime party. I took my plate to the coffee table and, through great force of will, sat with my back to the bed.