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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / The Kidnapped Bride by Jaye Peaches – Extended Preview

The Kidnapped Bride by Jaye Peaches – Extended Preview

With each hand firmly gripping the table edge, she knelt, anchoring herself on all fours. Stefan circled the table, admiring her, taking his time to enjoy the spread of her thighs, the way her breasts were stretched by their own weight, the nipples lowered and pointed. He reached under and pinched each one in turn. So ably did she absorb the discomfort, he pinched harder until she moaned in pain.

“More?” he asked.

She licked her lips, then nodded.

He squeezed the pebble between his finger and thumb. This time, she screwed her face into a ball.

“Why do you like this pain?” He needed to know, he had to be sure.

“I… don’t know… it brings pleasure to my…” Decorum silenced her.

“Cunt. Your pussy. Your quim. The essence of your sex. And I own it, don’t I? I will command it too.”

He twisted the nipple a fraction and tears welled in her eyes. But she pressed her lips firmly together.

“Too much?”

She shook her head vigorously.

“I’m going to examine you now, Juliet. I shall familiarise myself with you and enjoy the pleasure of it. When I am done, you will be punished, and then while you suffer the delights of that pain, I shall accomplish your deflowering. Do not fear, you are not my first virgin, and I know how to make it enjoyable.”

She shook violently from head to toe, as if on the verge of a great climax.

“Do you feel the need to clench and grind your pussy on my cock?”

She nodded frantically.

“Poor thing. You’ll have to learn patience. I am a brute, am I not? A dark force in your life now, one who holds your every whim in my control. Now, rest your forehead on the table, reach behind and part your arse cheeks. Do it, Juliet.”

The hesitation was marked, and he smacked her thigh, forcing her to unfreeze herself.

“Yes, yes,” she murmured excitedly.

Her head flopped forward, and she propped her shoulders on the table, letting her face lie to one side. She whimpered, kitten-like, and fumbled as she pawed at her own arse cheeks. He drew back, assessing her vulnerability. Soon those smooth lobes would be red and marked by his hands.

He placed a stool at the foot of the table, and sat on it, admiring the opening she had revealed. Puckered and taut, it flexed slightly when he poked it with his fingertip. He ran his fingers along the furrow, down between the folds and circled the dripping entrance. Slowly, he pushed his finger inside, and felt the barrier that was there waiting to be breached. He fucked the rim of her pussy with his stiff digit, taunting the soft spots until her toes curled and her knees wobbled.

“There, just a gentle poke. When you feel my cock go in, you’ll welcome it, won’t you?” He smeared his finger along her inner thigh.

“Yes, yes,” she panted.

He continued to toy with her, rubbing her folds between his fingers, drawing them apart, watching her swollen sex lips redden, pinching them when the urge took him. He stuck his tongue in the opening of her pussy, just the tip for a taste of her. He dabbed, and she squirmed, unable to interfere with his tickling tongue. The moaning increased into a pitiful sob of frustration. A good hard slap jolted her out of the reverie.

“Patience,” he warned her. “Tomorrow, I’ll eat this out, fuck you, make you beg for my cock. You’ll beg, won’t you?”

The tiny, “Yes,” was buried among the mewling.

“I’ll fill this hole. Then when you’re well fucked, I’ll start to work this arse hole open.”

She stopped rocking her hips. “No, please don’t.”

Another warning slap of her inner thigh.

“You’ll have no choice. It’s mine. I’ll punish it daily if I like. You think a slutty mistress gets to choose which holes I use?”

“No, no.” She lowered her head between her arms, and her hair swung between her tits. He fucking loved her hair.

“That’s right. This delightful collection will be used. And spanked, and your sweet mouth will suck and lick me.”

The treacle liquid she spun in her state of arousal was clear, it slithered down her thighs. He caught the stream with his tongue and swallowed it. She tasted too good to be true.

He rested his elbow on the table, and his chin upon his palm. There he remained for a while, enjoying the sight of her dripping cunt and the scent of her arousal. His cock, wetted by her mouth, was upright and leaking the first of his cum. He might have youth on his side still, which brought him the ability to climax several times a night, but he also had the experience of taming his cock. He rose, kicked the stool to one side, and readied himself for the delicious sound of a hand striking an arse cheek.

He ran his hand along her spine from neck to base, feeling each neat bone, the dip before the rise of her arse, the narrowness of her waist. She shivered, and the goosebumps were visible. As for her long hair, it draped around her face, hiding it. He had to see the expression on it. He found a piece of string in the cupboard where he kept many things and tied her hair back into a tail. He bent and kissed the red-hot cheeks of her face.

She smiled briefly. Nervous trepidation was what he preferred to see, and she showed it beautifully with the trembling of her lips and wide-eyed stare of expectation.

“Time for your punishment. I want you to ask me to spank you hard.”

The trembling intensified. She said nothing.

“If you don’t, I shall keep your virginity intact. Do you want to be fucked or not?”

Her green eyes blinked rapidly as she thought.

“Please spank me,” she said finally.

“Is that what I asked?” He tapped his fingers on the table. His impatience was fakery; he enjoyed the build-up as much as the spanking. Seeing her desperate was a joy to behold.

“Ha-rd,” she whispered.

He cupped his hand to his ear.

“Hard,” she said, red-faced. “Spank me hard.”

He assumed a position to one side of her raised arse, and lifted his arm, spread his fingers. The smack resonated around the room. She jerked and rose onto all fours, as if in an attempt to escape the platform. He let her move because her breasts were visible once again.

He flicked one nipple until it swayed. A peach stone, erect and heavy with arousal.

“Shall I spank you more?”

She nodded.

“Good, because wanting to be punished is very submissive. And you have been spoilt for much of your life, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Tell me about how you have been spoilt while I spank this arse hard.” He swept back his arm and brought his hand down with a hefty smack.

She jumped and reached behind to clutch the crimson cheek.

“No, no. I asked you to talk, not soothe yourself. Tell me.” The distraction was important. If she was focused on speaking, she would not notice the pain, and then she would feel it grow, rather than suffer the shock of each smack.

“I… I had maids. Lots of servants. They bathed—” she gasped, as he aimed another slap at the crease of her thigh.

“Don’t stop.”

“I never went without food. I—” She yelped.

“What of your dresses?”

“Yes, yes,” she said hastily. “I have, had… many. Silk and satin. Velvet!” The last word was a shriek.

Stefan rubbed the curved buttocks using slow circles of his hand until the red simmered, turning mellower and a shade of pink. Soon he would be rocking his hips against those hot spots and pounding her with his cock.

He resumed spanking her. “What does this feel like? Do you hate it? Hate the burning, the sting?”

“No, no. I don’t hate… it’s …”

“What?” He spanked faster, aiming for the same neat spot at the top of her thigh until it yielded a crimson colour.

“The shame of it,” she sobbed. “I am ashamed of myself for wanting it.”

“You want me to punish you?”

“I want to please you, and if you like punishing me,” she glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes glazed over with tears that weren’t shed, “then you should.”

He moved to stand in front of her and lifted her chin. He was witnessing the defiance of a young woman who hated what she had become in so short a space of time and buried beneath that resistant surface was the woman he truly sought to reveal. The needy creature who would take fuck after fuck, yielding herself to him for no other purpose than to please him. He would reward her, of course, and keep her sated, but she had to come to terms with that person she was afraid to unleash.

As for punishments, he had a particular weakness for them, if they were done correctly and without malice. He felt not one drop of malice in his heart.

“I shall discipline you if you are disobedient. The Laws of Matrimony may not require punishments, but you shall be held accountable by me for every tiny mistake.” He crouched so that he was level with her face. “Does that frighten you?”

She drew her shoulders back. “No. It does not. I am a Lomarda. I am never afraid of discipline if it is deserved.”

She made a fine point and he would have to be careful not to undo the trust she had in him.

“Then let me continue this worthwhile punishment. I shall spank you more, and you will hold still.”

He cracked his knuckles and circled to the rear of the table where her pert behind was awash with a multitude of warm colours. He spanked her rigorously, from one side to the next, changing pace if it suited. Sometimes it was a firm slap of his palm, others were a more like a cuff or pat. He teased with those, knowing that she was aroused. The evidence was before his eyes.

She continued, energetically, to speak of the naughty things she had done.

“I stole an apple out of a maid’s pocket.”

He tried not to laugh.

“I left slimy toads in my mother’s chamber.”

The confession continued, unabated by his spanking. She rattled through her mistakes, from her childhood into adulthood, piling them on faster than his hand could punish.

“I hated my tutor. He bored me to tears.” She hiccoughed. The irony nearly brought her to laughter.

“I sneaked out of the temple when I should have been at prayer.”

It was apparent to Stefan that not once had she suffered anything more than a harsh reprimand for her misdeeds.

The spanking wiped all that bad history away. For Juliet it was a clean start, and Stefan was pleased she took the opportunity to confess. He slowed the rhythm, eased back on the weight of his hand, and while he spanked with one, he teased her clit with the other. The result was swift and unmistakable. She flopped onto her front, unable to hold her body in position any longer and there she lay, writhing with the spasms of a spirited orgasm. He spanked all through it, gentle smacks that kept her going longer than she probably thought possible.

By now his cock was pained to the point of no return. His balls heavy and tight with pressure. If he didn’t grant them relief soon, he would burst. For years he had hoped to find a woman like Juliet, and now that he had, he believed his appetite was insatiable. Damn his responsibilities, the allegiances he owed his overlords, the wars he should be fighting. He would stay here in seclusion because nothing else mattered but the pleasure of fucking her.

“Now I shall take you.”

He carried her from the table to the bed and raised her bottom onto a pile of cushions. She was pliable and demure, allowing him to arrange her limbs on either side. She smiled weakly, and he acknowledged it by caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

“A virgin needs to be brave,” he said, and stripped off his shirt and breeches. There was a dressing on his arm. The injury was one of many he had suffered over the years and presented no problems.

Stefan refrained from strutting or posing, as he knew some men did, but neither did he doubt his appeal and seek to hide behind bedsheets or shirts. Nakedness in a man should not suggest either vanity or embarrassment. He was proud of his body, and like an artist, he admired the quality of his physique without suffering the delusion that he was perfect or without flaws. While scars might imply he had lost battles, they also proved he was enduring and unafraid of the cost of war.

Sometimes he preferred the distance of clothing. He sacrificed the sensual touch of skin against skin and used the barrier of his dress to remind his mistress his nudity was a reward. For Juliet’s deflowering, there would be no ceremony of the wedding night when women dressed the bride in a white, then scattered petals on the bed. Nor would he be escorted to the chamber by a cohort of his friends, their voices raised in boisterous songs. Therefore, he considered it important that he at least came to her as an equal in humility—naked, demonstratively aroused, and unashamed of it too.

As for Juliet, the naked form of a virgin woman was a sight to behold and one not to be destroyed by haste. However, she was timid, and in need of instruction.

She had pressed her hips into the top cushion and sealed herself by placing her thighs too close together. He took each ankle and spread her legs apart, until she was splayed and suitably vulnerable.

With another woman, he might not be honest, but for Juliet’s innocence, and the trust he needed to build, he spoke of his needs. “I want to be gentle, but I fear you are too tempting.”

“I will be very brave for you. I don’t fear the pain.”

There was only one way to find out if she was as courageous as she thought. He fingered the tip of his cock and spread what leaked out of it down the underside of his shaft. He rubbed the erection vigorously, groaning as he excited himself. A brief fuck was necessary this time for her sake. Later, he would visit her for longer, pound her if necessary. Yes, he had many erotic permutations in mind for the coming days and weeks. She would only have the energy to crawl from this bed to her own, and in between there would be no time for anything but sleep, bathing, and food.

Climbing onto the bed, he knelt behind her and pulled her hips toward him. With one rough hand, he reached beneath her belly, sorted out the plump clitoris, and circled it until she pathetically humped the pillow. Satisfied at her wetness, he leaned toward her, and with his other hand, aimed the head of his cock at the untamed hole that waited for its arrival. He pressed, firmly and slowly, stretching the opening with a modicum of force. He observed the familiar sight of near occupation and felt the way tautness yielded to elasticity. He moaned, pleasuring himself, for each creep forward brought his loins closer to her hot arse and the pleasure of touching it.

Remembering his commitment to Juliet, he paused to assess. She was very still, too tense perhaps, and gripping the quilt with white knuckles. He continued to wait.

“Relax, don’t fight it.”

He ceased tormenting her little clit and stroked her hourglass back instead, until he felt something give. The barrier was broken without a single sound of distress from her.

He inhaled several times, gazing up at the ceiling struts, savouring the tightness of a virgin cunt. Her body slumped beneath him, as if the surrender of it had sapped every last morsel of strength from her. He hadn’t long before all her energy would be consumed by the deflowering. The first time was exhausting; she was racked by both nerves and spanking. He took hold of her slender waist and braced her, keeping her clamped on his cock. Towering over her, he was a mammoth man, powerful and potentially dangerous. That he could control every inch of his body was a testimony to his training, both military and physical. Feeling her relax a notch further, he pushed the whole way in until he was balls deep. He shuddered and managed to snap out of the rapture that almost brought him to a premature conclusion. Below, she trembled and shivered, gouging tufts of threads out of the bedcover.

There was no doubt his seed was fertile. If he brought her to child, he would raise it as his own. He would not waste the opportunity, for mating was the primal urge that built stamina in both of them. He drew back until the head of his cock was visible. She sighed, perhaps mistaking his exit as a conclusion—such delightful innocence. With an unseen smirk, he thrust and re-entered her fully. She screamed.

Holding himself on the brink, he had to know what that cry meant. Would she be honest with him?

“Again?” he asked. “I think you want more.”

She rocked forward, as if to expel him. But she was too tight, too coiled with tension to let him go easily.

“Yes, again.” There was a strange calmness to her voice. A lie would have sounded more frantic.

The next pump was firmer, deliberate, nearly without hindrance. A little friction aided his cock, swelling it. It had been weeks since he had the pleasure of seeing it so enlarged and eager, skin richly coloured, the glans smooth and shiny.

He pressed his thumbs into the tinged moons of her arse. She jerked and clamped on his erection. It felt good fucking a punished girl. It reminded him he had the means to tame her. But sometimes he also needed her to be wild and unrestrained, feisty and aggressive. The balance of power would take time to master.

He worked his cock hard, using the extreme length of it to explore her channel. It thrilled him to hear tiny moans punctuated by rapid gasps. Today, she hadn’t the strength to thrash or squirm, but that resistance she would discover one day and use to her advantage by provoking him. And he would respond appropriately. Roughly. The sex would be both punishing and glorious. He thundered in and out, slapping his hips against her ample behind, and the noise of it was as pleasing as the spanking.

A score of well-timed thrusts was all it took for him to spill. He promised a swift fuck for her sake, and he delivered it with controlled execution. The spurts were exhilarating, leaving him breathless and racked with painful spasms. The tremors of his body triggered her own climax.

She had come while he spanked her, and once again, she needed no help for another. She hollered and screamed, clawing at whatever was in reach. His milk was a drug, a magical elixir that no woman could resist. He was a man of a particular breeding; few had this gift, for not only did his seed bring fertility, he believed it also was medicinal, and possibly dangerous. For every time he came in her pussy or arsehole, she would be forced into an immediate climax, one that would be nearly unbearable.

He tidied himself, then her with a cool cloth. She slept a while, purring softly. He lay beside her, freeing her of the cushions and spooning his body around her smaller form. He kissed her nape and shoulders, drawing her awake with his caresses.

“You survived,” he said without humour.

“Yes,” she said lazily. “The pain was pleasantly brief. However, I wasn’t expecting that… commotion of feelings.”


“My silly screams.”

He laughed then. “Dear Juliet. You had an orgasm. It is perfectly natural. You will have many more, and not all of them to your liking.”

She stiffened. “Why?”

“Because I shall control them, not you. And when I force them from you, they will be unbearably pleasing.”

“Now that, sir, is impossible. I can only like them, or not.”

He turned her around to face him. “Oh, you are so innocent. A sweet thing, innocence, for a man such as I. Each day I shall fuck you longer and harder, and then you’ll understand what I mean. This gentleness I give you will have to be earned, for I have nothing in mind but my constant pleasure and seeing you come on my cock. Sleep well tonight, because tomorrow, you’ll have to beg for me to stop you coming.”

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