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Theirs to Train: A Victorian Menage Romance by Samantha Madisen

When a wealthy businessman offers to forgive a family debt in return for her as his bride, nineteen-year-old orphan Caroline Blanchet is indignant at the thought of being all but sold. After a scandalous incident disrupts the match, however, Caroline soon finds herself on her way to Rohan Blackstone’s estate to be prepared for her future place in another gentleman’s harem.

After a painful, humiliating spanking leaves Caroline sobbing and obedient, Mr. Blackstone and his friend Dr. Callum Doyle set about teaching her all the ways her beautiful virgin body can be used for a man’s pleasure. But even as each new indignity leaves her blushing more deeply than the last, Caroline’s need to be claimed and ravaged by her strict masters grows stronger by the day. When the time to part with her arrives, will they decide to keep her for themselves instead?


Publisher’s Note: Theirs to Train includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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Author: Samantha Madisen

eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$4.95

Length: 65,000 words


She could not help the gasp that escaped her when the next unexpected sensation reached her mind: a tickling, slightly rough, limp something, like a many-fingered animal, or the tassels of a pillow, grazed her backside. It moved over the lowest part of her back, tickling, from side to side, several times. She strained her eyes to see what it was without disobeying Mr. Blackstone, but this only caused her a headache, and she could see only that he was behind her, dangling something over her bottom.

The something, then, dipped between her legs, where its many limp fingers slid through the strange wetness there, and some of them grazed her most intimate places, places that screamed to be touched, all while her mind told her how very naughty it was to even think about those places. The fingers traveled up, between her buttocks, across her other hole, and she squeezed her eyes closed against the pleasure and the humiliation.

“I am going to whip you soundly with this device, Miss Blanchet, to discipline you for your disobedience earlier. When you feel the pain of each stroke, you are to meditate deeply upon your disobedience, and the pleasure it gives you to be punished. You will then thank me for your discipline and beg me to give you another.”

As he spoke, the “device” made circles over her skin, driving her insides to wild convulsions she did not understand. “You will practice the words and actions of submission, and also the thoughts, until such time as they become your reality. We begin.”

The heat of the strap, and its many, many fingers, flashed over her right buttock not a breath after this utterance, and so quite unexpectedly. She cried out, more in surprise than in pain; for while it stung, and radiated in many directions, biting into her flesh in smaller and more concentrated strips than the flogger had, the pain was secondary to something else inside of her. The naughty feeling roared between her legs.

She exhaled all of the air in her chest and stared at her hand. As the wave of heat rolled across her skin, she forgot all else, including Mr. Blackstone’s instructions.

“Miss Blanchet.”

“Sir,” she said quickly. “I… I… I… I have quite forgotten what…wh…wh…what I am to do…” she stuttered.

The pain preceded the sound of the strap, that of limp noodles slapped on a table, this time across her other buttock. “You are to do nothing. You are to think of the pleasure of your discipline, and the pleasure of your submission. And then, you are to thank me, and beg me to give you more of it.”

She could not suffocate the whimper that trembled in her voice as she scrambled to speak: “Thank you, sir. Th…tha…thank you. I… I… ask that you… discipline me again.”

The very pronouncement of the words struck her almost as forcefully as the next strap across her bottom. The ache in her knotted stomach spread to her chest. “Thank you, sir… m…master… I… please, will you discipline me again…” she said in a hoarse whisper.

Tears overflowed in her already wet eyes as Mr. Blackstone whipped her again, and her voice was a whisper as she begged him again for more. Her skin was burning now, like it had the night before, and the wetness from between her thighs was making its way, in a cooling trickle, down her left leg.

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