relief.
“I will help you, Scarlett. Do not fear. We will figure this out. You must trust me.”
She was too shaken to manage her horse. Instead she rode sitting behind the knight on his horse while he led her animal alongside. As they rode, she had time to reflect and sort out some strange and confusing feelings.
Her bottom burned from the sharp spanking the knight had given her. At the same time, she was having new and oddly stimulating feelings. She was all too aware of his body, sitting as she was, her arms around his waist, pressing herself against his back. She could feel the flex of the hard muscles at his core, his scent assailed her, and she kept looking at his broad shoulders and the way his windblown hair hung down. It gave her butterflies in the pit of her stomach and a not unwelcome tingle ran up her spine when she thought about his eyes.
Had they feasted upon her charms as she lay across his knee, partially denuded? He surely took in the soft roundness of her bottom. After all, his hands were all over it. She shivered at the memory. The burn in her nether cheeks was now a warm glow. Even the nature of the intimate punishment he’d given her seemed somehow comforting now. A curious wetness began to creep between her legs and her breathing grew shallow. A thought invaded her consciousness, a startling truth— he could do that again and I wouldn’t even mind. She let out an involuntary gasp.
Roland turned around, a look of concern on his face. “Is something wrong, Scarlett?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, “nothing at all.”
Chapter Eight
Juliet had no idea why she was being held here. She knew only one thing. She had to escape. These girls were slaves, abducted or tricked into coming here. They were not free to leave and rejoin their families, regardless of what had been promised. Punishment was a constant threat for infractions great and trivial. Fear was the key to ensuring obedience. The switch and the strap wielded by stout matrons who answered only to the countess were the instruments that mandated compliance and kept them all in a fearful state of subjugation.
So afraid were the girls housed in Juliet’s quarters that at night they were not guarded, as far as Juliet could tell. Their female overseers, like the fearful Moll, repaired to their own quarters after the evening meal, leaving the girls with threats of dire consequences were they to stray from their beds. This was enough, it seemed. No one wanted to make any of these hard, dour women angry.
So when everyone was asleep, Juliet rose and explored her surroundings. She had a vague idea where the stables were and knew that escape would require two things: an ability to get there without raising an alarm, and a horse. She made several forays into the halls of the keep in the wee hours of the morning, looking for the best route to the stables. After a few tries she found it. A little-used corridor had a side door that led to the rear of the kitchen. This was fortunate as well because fruits and vegetables were left out in baskets in plain view. She’d need to take some for the journey, and more importantly, she’d have to select a horse to steal. In order for the animal to become familiar with her, she’d have to bring it food so that it would warm to her.
And that was what she did. The stables were a short distance from the kitchen, past the laundry and across the courtyard. She stuck to the shadows, memorizing every nook and doorway that provided a place to melt into the darkness. She took something with her every time, an apple or a carrot. The horse she chose reminded her of Flower, her own. She had sensed the horse’s gentleness as she inspected the stalls. This one came right up to the stall gate and snuffed, sticking its nose through the bars. She spoke quietly to the horse, patted her head and gave her an apple. As her nighttime excursions became routine, the horse would be ready and waiting, grateful to
“I will help you, Scarlett. Do not fear. We will figure this out. You must trust me.”
She was too shaken to manage her horse. Instead she rode sitting behind the knight on his horse while he led her animal alongside. As they rode, she had time to reflect and sort out some strange and confusing feelings.
Her bottom burned from the sharp spanking the knight had given her. At the same time, she was having new and oddly stimulating feelings. She was all too aware of his body, sitting as she was, her arms around his waist, pressing herself against his back. She could feel the flex of the hard muscles at his core, his scent assailed her, and she kept looking at his broad shoulders and the way his windblown hair hung down. It gave her butterflies in the pit of her stomach and a not unwelcome tingle ran up her spine when she thought about his eyes.
Had they feasted upon her charms as she lay across his knee, partially denuded? He surely took in the soft roundness of her bottom. After all, his hands were all over it. She shivered at the memory. The burn in her nether cheeks was now a warm glow. Even the nature of the intimate punishment he’d given her seemed somehow comforting now. A curious wetness began to creep between her legs and her breathing grew shallow. A thought invaded her consciousness, a startling truth— he could do that again and I wouldn’t even mind. She let out an involuntary gasp.
Roland turned around, a look of concern on his face. “Is something wrong, Scarlett?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, “nothing at all.”
Chapter Eight
Juliet had no idea why she was being held here. She knew only one thing. She had to escape. These girls were slaves, abducted or tricked into coming here. They were not free to leave and rejoin their families, regardless of what had been promised. Punishment was a constant threat for infractions great and trivial. Fear was the key to ensuring obedience. The switch and the strap wielded by stout matrons who answered only to the countess were the instruments that mandated compliance and kept them all in a fearful state of subjugation.
So afraid were the girls housed in Juliet’s quarters that at night they were not guarded, as far as Juliet could tell. Their female overseers, like the fearful Moll, repaired to their own quarters after the evening meal, leaving the girls with threats of dire consequences were they to stray from their beds. This was enough, it seemed. No one wanted to make any of these hard, dour women angry.
So when everyone was asleep, Juliet rose and explored her surroundings. She had a vague idea where the stables were and knew that escape would require two things: an ability to get there without raising an alarm, and a horse. She made several forays into the halls of the keep in the wee hours of the morning, looking for the best route to the stables. After a few tries she found it. A little-used corridor had a side door that led to the rear of the kitchen. This was fortunate as well because fruits and vegetables were left out in baskets in plain view. She’d need to take some for the journey, and more importantly, she’d have to select a horse to steal. In order for the animal to become familiar with her, she’d have to bring it food so that it would warm to her.
And that was what she did. The stables were a short distance from the kitchen, past the laundry and across the courtyard. She stuck to the shadows, memorizing every nook and doorway that provided a place to melt into the darkness. She took something with her every time, an apple or a carrot. The horse she chose reminded her of Flower, her own. She had sensed the horse’s gentleness as she inspected the stalls. This one came right up to the stall gate and snuffed, sticking its nose through the bars. She spoke quietly to the horse, patted her head and gave her an apple. As her nighttime excursions became routine, the horse would be ready and waiting, grateful to
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