knew once she did that protective Lord Sommersby would ensure she had no part in pursuing him. He would get her out of here, and she’d have no chance to find the library.
Horror rushed like ice water through her veins—if Sommersby and Swift captured Roman, Roman would tell them what she was.
The madam—the tall woman with the shimmering topaz gown, the pile of raven black curls, the magnificent diamonds—clapped her hands.
At the sharp clap, many of the corset-clad girls scurried to the center of the room. Giggling, the girls began to kiss. The madam spanked one on her bottom with harsh slaps of her open palm, and the girl turned, presenting her now-rosy derriere. She still lushly kissed the other girl, mouths wide open. Grunts and murmurs of male appreciation filled the room, especially when the madam picked up a black leather switch. The girl held her cheeks apart, and the madam thwacked the girl’s rear thoroughly with the leather straps. After the girl’s buttocks were flushed red, the madam lifted a device from a table, a long rod of black with a tail of peacock feathers and two gold chains attached.
Graceful fingers dipped the rod into a tall brass container and withdrew it. Clear, viscous liquid dripped from the tip.
“What is she doing?” Without thinking, Serena asked the question of Drake Swift.
She immediately regretted letting the words slip out.
“Penetrating her arse.”
A quiver of heat and agony shot through Serena.
The madam pushed with hearty force until the rod disappeared deep into the girl’s bottom. The girl was rocking and panting with each thrust, her loose auburn hair tumbling over her back.
Once the rod was within to the hilt, the woman—the madam—looped two chains around the girl’s bare thighs. She attached two to the girl’s corset. The girl giggled with delight, waggled her bum, and began to spin and dance around the room. Peacock feathers swirled and spun with her wild motions.
Mr. Swift breathed heavily. Serena felt the warmth of those deep breaths against her ear.
“Does that not hurt?” she asked. Her own bottom tingled.
“It pleasures her,” he insisted. “She will perhaps reach orgasm many times. Eventually she will wish to remove it, for it is large and is spreading her wide. After several hours, she will yearn to stop. That is when she will be selected by a vampire as his companion and he will heighten her pleasure.”
Serena could not understand why the thought of such a bizarre thing made her own body weak and shivery.
The madam continued to slap the girls on their bottoms and continued to slide large rods into Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 26
their derrieres. She chained each one in place. A larger and larger rod was used on each girl. For the last, a beauty with chestnut ringlets, two other girls held her to support her as the madam worked the enormous black pole inside.
The first girl was already straddling a man’s lap, crying out in pleasure as she bounced upon him. The chains were taut, straining to keep her filled. Two other girls lay upon a divan and began to kiss each other’s privy curls. One banged her bottom roughly against the divan. The other spread her thighs wide and wriggled. Did that provide stimulation?
Men—vampires—sprawled on the various chairs, watching the display, exuding raw sensual power. All were cast in shadow, so they looked mysterious and dangerous. Some crooked their fingers—summoning a girl to dance before them.
The girls would play with their nipples or hold open their nether lips, then spring around to display their bottoms. One girl with enormous breasts was able to reach her nipple with her tongue, eliciting a cheer from the bright-eyed man watching her. Another man dragged the girl toward him, until she crawled on her knees on their chaise. He pulled her hips to his face so her quim was at his mouth. With his large, gloved hands, he began withdrawing the rod and thrusting it in
Horror rushed like ice water through her veins—if Sommersby and Swift captured Roman, Roman would tell them what she was.
The madam—the tall woman with the shimmering topaz gown, the pile of raven black curls, the magnificent diamonds—clapped her hands.
At the sharp clap, many of the corset-clad girls scurried to the center of the room. Giggling, the girls began to kiss. The madam spanked one on her bottom with harsh slaps of her open palm, and the girl turned, presenting her now-rosy derriere. She still lushly kissed the other girl, mouths wide open. Grunts and murmurs of male appreciation filled the room, especially when the madam picked up a black leather switch. The girl held her cheeks apart, and the madam thwacked the girl’s rear thoroughly with the leather straps. After the girl’s buttocks were flushed red, the madam lifted a device from a table, a long rod of black with a tail of peacock feathers and two gold chains attached.
Graceful fingers dipped the rod into a tall brass container and withdrew it. Clear, viscous liquid dripped from the tip.
“What is she doing?” Without thinking, Serena asked the question of Drake Swift.
She immediately regretted letting the words slip out.
“Penetrating her arse.”
A quiver of heat and agony shot through Serena.
The madam pushed with hearty force until the rod disappeared deep into the girl’s bottom. The girl was rocking and panting with each thrust, her loose auburn hair tumbling over her back.
Once the rod was within to the hilt, the woman—the madam—looped two chains around the girl’s bare thighs. She attached two to the girl’s corset. The girl giggled with delight, waggled her bum, and began to spin and dance around the room. Peacock feathers swirled and spun with her wild motions.
Mr. Swift breathed heavily. Serena felt the warmth of those deep breaths against her ear.
“Does that not hurt?” she asked. Her own bottom tingled.
“It pleasures her,” he insisted. “She will perhaps reach orgasm many times. Eventually she will wish to remove it, for it is large and is spreading her wide. After several hours, she will yearn to stop. That is when she will be selected by a vampire as his companion and he will heighten her pleasure.”
Serena could not understand why the thought of such a bizarre thing made her own body weak and shivery.
The madam continued to slap the girls on their bottoms and continued to slide large rods into Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 26
their derrieres. She chained each one in place. A larger and larger rod was used on each girl. For the last, a beauty with chestnut ringlets, two other girls held her to support her as the madam worked the enormous black pole inside.
The first girl was already straddling a man’s lap, crying out in pleasure as she bounced upon him. The chains were taut, straining to keep her filled. Two other girls lay upon a divan and began to kiss each other’s privy curls. One banged her bottom roughly against the divan. The other spread her thighs wide and wriggled. Did that provide stimulation?
Men—vampires—sprawled on the various chairs, watching the display, exuding raw sensual power. All were cast in shadow, so they looked mysterious and dangerous. Some crooked their fingers—summoning a girl to dance before them.
The girls would play with their nipples or hold open their nether lips, then spring around to display their bottoms. One girl with enormous breasts was able to reach her nipple with her tongue, eliciting a cheer from the bright-eyed man watching her. Another man dragged the girl toward him, until she crawled on her knees on their chaise. He pulled her hips to his face so her quim was at his mouth. With his large, gloved hands, he began withdrawing the rod and thrusting it in
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