Bride of the Revolution by Bethany Amber

like oiled silk and it sucks like quicksand, draining me dry.’
    Grace felt her cheeks suffuse with heat at his praise and felt a flutter in her sex folds, the needful jerk of her clitty and the slow trickle of her juices.
    â€˜Come here, Philipe!’ The command was rapped out.
    Green eyes darkened by both the pain of the tight bindings about her wrists and ankles, the strain of supporting herself on her hands, and the unrelenting sensual sensations which racked her tortured body, Grace turned her gaze to madame.
    The voluptuous woman lay upon the satin ribboned linen, her shapely legs spread to their utmost. Immediately the innocent captive closed her eyes, not because what she saw disgusted her or was abhorrent, but because it heightened her own feelings.
    â€˜Come here, Philipe.’ The command was softer, throatier.
    â€˜Must I unfasten the girl?’ came the petulant reply.
    â€˜You may look upon me, my precious girl.’ Madame’s eyes were hooded with lust and her voice was husky. Philipe’s query was ignored. ‘Look upon my beautiful mound with its silky lush curls. Look between my love lips, at my clitty, which is burning for stimulation; to be kissed by loving lips.’
    Grace felt compelled to obey and saw the lustrous forest on the plump mons with its curls tickling the tops of the spread and statuesque thighs.
    â€˜I know how it stimulates you,’ continued madame. ‘And see here…’ The ringed fingers peeled back swollen outer folds baring the slick inner leaves. ‘No, don’t you dare close your eyes! Look at my clitty, isn’t it a fine nubbin with its hood drawn back? There are some men at court who would give their right hands to have a cock so fine, I can tell you!’
    A fingertip grazed the scarlet glossy tip in question and Grace longed to touch herself in the same manner. If only her hands were free.
    The skin surrounding madame’s clitty was slick with her juices. It was pearled with creamy droplets on each fine leaf, and the droplets merged to drool slowly down the plump hillocks which were the path to the woman’s bottom.
    â€˜Well?’ snapped Philipe.
    Madame continued to caress her splayed sex, petting her clitty with slow, circular strokes and dipping the same finger into her pulsing entrance. ‘Hm?’ she managed at last.
    â€˜Shall I release her?’ he snapped. ‘The girl?’
    Slowly, madame came to her senses. ‘ Non, non ! I wish to gaze at her in her delicious torment before I sleep.’ She beckoned her lover. ‘With you in my arms, my sweet.’
    His slender limbs trembling with both weariness and satiation, Philipe crawled over the tumbled linen to lie in the crook of his mistress’s arms, his head pillowed upon her bounteous breast. In a moment he turned his head to take the swollen and purple nipple between his lips.
    Grace, her face smeared with Philipe’s copious issue, tried to console herself that she had pleased her royal captors and, although racked with the most terrible pain, she would be warm and well fed for a little while at least.
    Chapter Three
    In the depths of sleep Grace felt a gentle tug at her sex lips until they were splayed open. A chill drifted across the heated and moist flesh within. She shifted sleepily into a ball, her rounded buttocks pouting outwards and her sex pouch tucked away at the apex of her thighs. She mewed soft words. She licked her lips and felt her cheeks flush at the salty taste. Her raven black hair, shimmering with blue lights in the ill-lit room, coiled over her breasts and tumbled like a midnight cascade in the valley between them.
    â€˜So submissive, so sweet and pliant. The perfect girl.’
    The words caressed Grace’s ears, but she did not know whether she was truly awake or asleep. Was she dreaming?
    Tentatively, she allowed her lashes to flutter open, but almost immediately she closed them again. She was no longer in