Claiming The Lusty Royal Brat
Alana Church
Maison d'édition: Boruma Publishing
Synopsis
Princess Kitiara is a brat and she must be tamed if she is to become queen. Over the course of three books, she sets out on a journey of erotic discovery, as those who know and love her best indulge her carnal desires. Male and female alike, they reward her and punish her as needed. Will they be successful in "Claiming the Lusty Royal Brat?" Find out! ~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~ "Harder, Nora. Harder!" Lady Eleanora Tentrees, daughter of Baron Warner Tentrees and Heir's Companion, paused, the deerskin flogger hanging limply from her hands. Smiling, she leaned down over the figure on the bed, trailing the thongs over the vulnerable curve of her lover's bottom. "What did you say?" Princess Kitiara Tanthalasa, daughter of Laurelin Tanthalasa, heir to the throne of Delania, looked up through the shining fall of her night-black hair. Her backs and buttocks were scored with thin red welts, and she strained against the silken cords which tied her wrists to the posts of the huge bed she often shared with Eleanora. "Please," she whispered. "I need it." "Need what?" She leaned forward, drawing a finger across red, plump lips. "The pain. I've...I've been bad. I deserve to be punished." "Oh?" She reached a hand under the princess' body, smiling as Kit body arched upward in pleasured response. "What terrible sins have you committed?" "I...I....I voted against Mother's proposal in council yesterday. I was rude to Lord Whiteside two days ago. I...." She writhed on the bed. "For the love of the seven gods, Nora, please!" "Wicked tramp," she whispered, leaning down. With the expertise borne of months together, she caught Kit's mouth in a blazing kiss. At the same time, her arm rose and fell, whipping the flogger across the skin of her buttocks. Once, twice, a third time, and on the fourth, Kit shrieked into her mouth, her body quaking as she finally found the release she sought. "That was good," she said a few minutes later, after Nora had released the ropes. Her sweaty body was curled into her companion's arms. Nora held her lovingly, her hands softly caressing the welts the flogger had left behind. How strange. The queen had chosen her to be the Heir's Companion when she was only thirteen years old, and Kitiara a spoiled, vain, tantrum-throwing child of seven. It was only after she had discovered that Kit was being abused by her nurse, whose husband had perished in Prince-Consort Welston's rebellion, that things had started to heal inside her. The frightened child, whose world had been turned topside-down by her father's death and her mother's remarriage, had grown into a lovely woman of twenty years, with a quick wit, a wise heart, and a slender, comely body which caused most of the men at court to stare at her in longing. But somewhere deep inside was the tiny seed of guilt which drove her to sometimes seek pleasure in pain. Since they had become lovers during a visit to her uncle's kingdom of Chernavog, most times Kit was content to please and be pleased in the way most women found comfort with each other. With lips and fingers and tongues, they had explored the heights of ecstasy together, sometimes aided by the cunningly-crafted toys her uncle had gifted them before they returned to Delania. But every three weeks, or four, some inner demon woke in the princess, and then her sins needed to be paid for, driving her to violent needs, and even more violent release. Then Nora used the flogger, or the tawse, or the paddle, or the flat of her hand, to leave the marks of passion on Kit's olive-hued skin.
Disponible depuis: 21/05/2022.
