Page 22 of His Talisman

“Are you having second thoughts?” He assessed me then stood, sliding back his chair. “Time for your first adjustment, miss.” Threat lurked in the depths of his eyes.

6

CHARITY

Mouth parting, I looked up at the doctor, jolted to the next level on my patentedscariness scale,while below hummed with faint pleasure. Why was I so turned on by his intimidation?

“What did I do?”

“Swore at me.”

While I was trying to remember which time he meant, he seized my wrists and hoisted me forward onto the table. My chair tottered, rattling on its legs, and almost fell. Dishes slid aside, and my wine glass was barely caught by a hurrying Inigo before it toppled. The doctor pulled the back of my dress up to my waist, gathering it there.

Startled, I had only squeaked. Inigo backed away and retreated to the doorway. Cassius was rendered still. He folded his arms and said nothing. He was possibly enjoying this.

I glowered at the doctor. “Hey! What are you—”

Taking a firm grasp of the hair at my nape, he sat on the table next to me. I was sprawled across the width, bent at the hips with my legs dangling and my toes touching the floor. I pushed off the table with both hands, grunting in effort. I winced as he jerked on my hair.

The doctor lowered his face until close to mine. “Will you be still, or should I use a worse implement than I intended to?”

I heaved in ragged breaths. My chest was squashed against the table, and I tried one last time to do a push-up and get away. I was feeling stupidly rebellious.

“Define worse?” I slumped and crooked one eyebrow, made my arms go limp.

“A cane, a paddle, a barbed wire flogger, my hand…it’ll be one of those. Choose.” He twisted his handful of my hair then moved in and kissed the corner of my mouth then slowly withdrew. “I do like it when you wriggle.”

I inhaled, shakily. My panties were damp and growing damper by the second. The rosemary scent was still his favorite. Of its own volition, my tongue sneaked out and licked near where he’d kissed me.

“Ummm.” I wrinkled my brow, as if still thinking, but fuck, that was some list.

“Your choice. Your…fucking…choice, miss, and the clock is ticking. Five, four, three—”

“Hand!”

“We shall see. Also rule five or six? One of those. Thou shalt not swear at your Dominant.”

“It’s six?” I ventured, whispering.

He barked out a laugh and shook his head, as he rose to sit upright again. “Six. Hand, it is.”

Still smirking, he brought my wrists together then dragged me further until my hands reached the opposite edge of the table. There, he clicked them to something else. Something that was a part of the table. The metal decorations were not simply decorations.

Was this island a refuge for a medieval inquisition?

Huffing, having used some muscle in my attempts to break free, I rolled my head sideways and glared. The doctor stripped off my underwear, slipping them from my legs. He dropped them to the table, stepped back to where I could only see him from the corner of one eye, and kicked apart my feet.

“Open. You know I like the view of your cunt.” Desire simmered in that statement.

I tiptoed apart my feet. Inigo was to my front and right and, thank god, he would only see some of my bared ass above the gathered dress.

The doctor’s hard hand came down. The smack jiggled my rear, sparking pain. He kept going, alternating sides, jarring my thighs into the table’s edge. My abused butt cheeks stung, and every new smack blasted flagrantly hot signals directly to my clit. I tugged at whatever was fastened onto my hands. The wrist cuffs slid and held. The table held.

Another strike jolted my rear, and I groaned into the shelter of my arm.

He slipped a finger down the length of my slit as if checking me for arousal. I tensed then relaxed my thighs, wanting that hand to tease me again.

Do not pass go. Collect an orgasm…

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