Chastity Ch 02

Kinlee woke with a glorious smile, her arms slowly stretching. Snuggling deeper beneath the blankets, her mind drifted. Suddenly, she sat up in the enormous bed, one hand holding the sheet to her bare breasts. Her mane tumbled in disarray around her shoulders in a golden halo. Rising panic flooded her. He couldn't have.

He wouldn't have.

Kinlee forced herself to breathe. She felt both clammy and flushed altogether. She didn't know if she wanted to scream or cry. Or kill Draven. Perhaps all three, but determining the appropriate order was beyond her right then.

Her maid, alerted to her princess's wakeful state, fluttered about her. Kinlee sat on the wide bed, gazing blankly at the far stone wall in horror.

Kinlee lifted the sheet and gazed down in disbelief, past her pink nipples and belly, before quickly slapping the sheet against her breasts. Faintness stole over her.

"Find me my most awful gown," Kinlee managed shakily.

"My lady," her maid looked at her questioningly, as though Kinlee had lost her senses. Kinlee waived an impatient hand at her, yet still the maid looked upon her doubtfully.

Draven had done the unthinkable, calling for drastic measures. Kinlee rose from the bed after gathering control over the trembling of her limbs and flung back the sheet. She strode to the adjoining chamber where her gowns could be found. At her maid's pitiful gasp, Kinlee knew what the other women spied. Kinlee was naked, all creamy perfection and womanly curves, except for the intricate golden chastity belt clasped tightly about her hips.

"Oh, my lady..."

Anger fairly crackled from Kinlee as she began riffling through the dozens of colourful silks.

"Put a stopper in it, Drea. There's no help for it. At least not right this moment. Help me find me something to wear."

There would be hell to pay if Draven thought he was getting back into her chastity belt.

~*~

"Ewwww," Kinlee moaned to herself, her toes squirming in the cold, wet mud seeping though the leather soles of her boots. Boots that, in hindsight, were more suited to decorating luxurious rugs and sweeping palace steps, not the rugged forests surrounding Giliane. And if it weren't for Draven, her horrible, unfeeling husband of less than one day, it was where her boot-shod toes would otherwise be.

Upon learning from Drea that her husband had fled her bed to join his warriors in a hunt and would not be expected before eve, Kinlee decided to leave as well.

Kinlee had foolishly thought that caving into Draven's demand of marriage would be the end of her chastity belt days, giving her the freedom to discover what had always been denied her. But noooo.

Kinlee stomped up the steep bank, imagining Draven's tanned face beneath her foot each step of the way. The plain dress Drea had sneaked from the laundry maids itched where it wasn't torn. Her golden hair was a twisted, tangled birds nest, complete with leaves and twigs. Her mid-morning apple had barely scraped the sides of her rumbling belly, but she was too angry to consider eating. Her face, arms and hands wore the scratched and bleeding evidence of her ill-planned plight. And to make matters worse, the sky had darkened as the sun ducked behind the far mountains.

Unbeknownst to Draven, there were two keys that unlocked the gold chastity belt that was the source of her frustration, both figuratively and literally. That she didn't exactly know where the second key was, or more precisely, the carrier of that key, wouldn't deter Kinlee. It didn't take an idiot to guess where self-serving crusty Vargos, the thorn in her side that was her father's steward, had fled with her sister. The Queendom of Harkness was the only country not embroiled in her father's and Draven's differing views on procuring a bridegroom.

Yet what had seemed an adventure that morning had long since waned into mild disturbance when she pondered bedding down on dirt and leaves amongst the not so quiet animals stirring the forest floor.

Everything ached, even her hair, and exhaustion plagued her from her endless trek. Taking a horse, which could not be considered stealing even though her father's kingdom had been siezed by Draven, would have been the preferred mode of transportation. However, a chastity belt did not lend itself to comfort while on horseback.

When finally Kinlee could walk no more on blistered and aching feet, the twinkling stars hidden by branched arms stretching far above her, she slid down to rest on her bottom against a tall tree with a hollow at its base, tears gathering on her lashes. Damn Draven, the impossible rogue. She hated him for doing this to her. For it was his fault that she found herself alone, weary, hungry and sore. With every fibre of her being, she truly really hated him.

~*~

Draven was not in a fine humour. He had returned early eve, intent on bedding his exquisite wife before holding a fine feast in her honour, only to discover the wilful minx had disappeared. He had expected a certain amount of animosity over the chastity belt, and came prepared with a precious necklet, but the extent of her childish happenstance was entirely unexpected.

Draven was a practical man intent on protecting what was his. And Kinlee was his. That she came to his bed that first time out of curiosity, and the second time out of hunger, was not enough to bind an inquisitive and sheltered princess like Kinlee to her husband's arms alone. He intended bedding her until she had no thought of anyone but him. And only then would he remove the chastity belt.

That she was ignorant of the depths of men's lusts for her fragile golden beauty only further justified his actions. Without his protection and guidance, Kinlee could easily find herself subjected to abuse at the hands of someone much stronger than herself, a man who paid little heed to her cosseted upbringing and playful whims. Quite what he had done in the face of her enthusiasm, thoughtlessly overlooking the signs of her inexperience as he plundered her maidenhead and hurting her.

When it was discovered Chasity was not to be found in the castle, Draven struggled to contain his frustration. Her father had little light to shed on the subject from his luxuriously appointed cell in the dungeon. Garbin had simply shaken his head and chuckled, confiding that Kinlee and her mother were cut from the same cloth, and the mother had led him a fine merry dance over the years.

As Draven and his men re-saddled their horses, he couldn't push from his mind the thought that perhaps Kinlee hadn't gone willingly. As his wife, a princess in her own right and as yet uncrowned Queen, Kinlee was ideal for political leverage. That her captors wouldn't tolerate her mischievousness went without saying. Ransomed alive did not guarantee unharmed. The images of a drugged, beaten Kinlee flashed before his eyes, making his blood turn cold.

When they found her sole tracks going in circles in the forest, his relief was quickly replaced by another fear. Wild boars, snakes, ravines. The list of tangible dangers were endless.

Time passed slowly until with relief the soft hoots of an owl reached his ears, a signal from one of his warriors. He swiftly changed direction, finally reaching the gathering of his most-trusted warriors. He slid from his horse before it had halted and pushed through the hushed circle to stand over his wife. A wife that was dirty, dishevelled, and sleeping curled at the base of a tree like some lost forest sprite.

Fury and relief battled within him. He couched down beside her, his fingers brushing back a clump of blonde hair that was caught in the corner of her softly parted lips. A soft graze marred her cheekbone, and her nose and chin were smudged with dirt. She didn't so much as stir.

Even like this, his princess exhausted and grubby, his desire for her was unmatched. Perhaps it was because Draven had never bedded a virgin before his rebellious princess, or it may be the insatiable curiosity that peeked out from flashing gold eyes that teased and tormented him. He didn't understand the magnetic draw she held for him, driving him to lead his men to conquer a palace just so he could have her again. Draven knew he would be in for a hell of a time when Kinlee discovered the power she had over him.

He gathered the sleeping beauty in his arms, and walked toward his waiting horse. She stirred slightly, rubbing her cheek against his warm leather jerkin. He thought he heard her mumble "weasel". Edric smiled, having caught the words as Draven eased her into his second's arm. The smiled quickly vanished at Draven's scowl. Draven missed her warmth as he climbed upon his horse before Edric handed her up into his waiting arms.

The path back was travelled swiftly and carefully by his men. The moon was high as they rode beneath the raised portico, his men tired but too well trained to grumble at their fool's errand. He would ensure the ale was plentiful as they filled their bellies with trenches full of steaming meat and bread.

He carried Kinlee to her tower room, quietly ordering water, poultice and towelling on the way. When he laid her on her bed, an old crone came bustling in the room followed by a young maidservant carrying soft towelling and a bowl.

Appalled by the quality and state of Kinlee's gown, he ran his knife from the bodice to hem, then down the rough sleeves. He eased the cloth from her, leaving her bare but for the golden X of her chastity belt with its delicate golden shell that hid her the delightful curls. The old crone tsked at the bruises and scratches on her princess's legs and arm as she poured drops of scented oil in the bowl. "Better bruised than eaten," she muttered under her breath.

Between himself and the crone, they bathed her of the worst of the dirt, but there was nothing for her hair until the morn and soap and a tub of hot water. He banished the maidservants from the chamber then quickly stripped and washed himself down. Then he slid into bed beside her and drew her into the cradle of his arms, her body instinctively cuddling against him.

~*~

Kinlee murmured sleepily, wiggling deeper in the warmth that surrounded her. Yet slowly the aches dragged her from the peaceful depths of slumber. Her hand flew to her head as she groaned. Her ankle and blisters throbbed the most, although her aching head was a close second. Crinkling her brow, her fingers further explored the tangled grossness that was her hair.

Then she remembered. Kinlee didn't know whether she wanted to scream or cry. Lifting her sore head, she blinked blearily down at the sleeping giant wedged half beneath her like a warm pillow. Her bent leg was thrown over his, resting between his powerful thighs. Her hand was pressed over his heart, her belly pressed against his hip.

His face looked so different with his eyes closed. Or perhaps it was because it gave her more of an opportunity to notice the rest of the bronzed features like his high cheekbones and wide forehead, the sweep of black lashes, the dark stubble that her fingers itched to rub against.

Gazing downward, she considered the rise and fall of his chest upon which her naked breasts perched. The tanned arm curled beneath his head provided an impressive show of muscle and a thatch of dark hair. Up close, and she was as she pressed her nose to his flesh and drew him in, he smelt of sandalwood, myrtle and something distinctively Draven.

Her eyes wandered downwards, until they reached the white sheet that rested on his hips. She knew without looking that he was naked beneath the sheet, but where was the fun in that? Carefully she lifted her hand from his chest and reached for the linen. Pinching the material between two fingers, she slowly lifted the cloth, and bit her lip to keep from sighing.

Truly he was a marvellous creature, Kinlee mused. Although Kinlee was far from an expert in these things, the long pole that jutted from a nest of dark curls was without complaint. Kinlee never knew men could be ready whether asleep or awake, yet here was her delightful proof. Even as she watched, it twitched and stirred, as if it had a will of its own. Her eyes wide, she darted a quick darting peak at its master. He had not stirred. It was as though his sword sensed it held a captivated audience.

Perhaps just a tiny touch, she wheedled to herself. There was time to punish him later. Folding back the sheet, she settled her head comfortably against his chest. Her hand hovered anxiously above him, wanting eagerly to explore, but not to wake the beast. Lightly, with the tip of her finger, she drew it from base to tip. Her eyes widened as it moved, just as he shifted beneath her. She held her breath, quickly drawing her hand away to rest it on her thigh. But all he did was lightly groan and slide his hand down to cup her bottom. His hand squeezed her flesh once, before relaxing. She held her breath, her eyes shut. Nothing. Slowly her breath eased from her.

With renewed daring, her hand returned to that mysterious part of him. She circled him at the base, marvelling at how thick and long and velvety he was. No wonder it had felt like she was branded by a hot poker that first time. To think he even managed to fit it in her, she mused. The second time, she didn't care whether it would hurt or not. It had ached not to have him there.

Just the thought of him doing that again made her tingly between her thighs and her nipples bud to poke against his chest. When he had kissed her down there, it had felt so different from the pleasure of her lady's maids lapping between her thighs. The difference between a sun-shower and an electrical thunder storm. A smile curled her lips even as her toes curled.

As her thoughts wandered, her hand was drawing up and down his straining flesh like she had seen one of the maids do to him. He had seemed to enjoy it, thrusting into the maid's fist with almost as much enthusiasm as he had later rammed into the voluptuous maid from behind.

His breathing had turned shallow, his hips twitching. Moisture beaded on the broad tip and she gently smoothed it into the silken flesh. His chest rumbled beneath her cheek as his hand wrapped about hers, guiding it harder and faster over his burgeoning flesh. She tore her eyes away from his flesh to gaze up at his straining face, his green eyes narrowed on her face. Her heart jumped, and fierce heat stained her cheeks at being discovered playing with him.

His shaft pumped into her hand at a heady pace, his fingers leaving hers to tangle in her hair and draw her face up to his. His mouth covered hers, his hand fisted at the nape of her neck as his tongue tangled with hers. Kiss melted into kiss as she stroked his thrusting heat.

He tore his mouth away, his lashes dropping, the cords of his neck straining. Her head turned in time to catch the spurting seed as his hips thrust fiercely into the grip of her hand, landing on his chest and belly. Truly he was a magnificent beast. Even now, she ached to be filled by him to bursting. His lips pressed against her temple, his breathing satisfyingly uneven. Some imp drew her finger to the unfamiliar globs, and she raised it to her mouth, savouring the strange, salty taste of him. "Princess," he rasped, but it was more of a groan. She dimpled a smile at him.

It felt wickedly delicious to wake up to this warm male in her bed. And despite that first time, he could make her toes curl if he set his mind to it. But that didn't mean she liked being married to the worm, she told herself. Soon he would tell her what to do and say, what to wear. Already he bound her in this blasted chastity belt. No doubt he was free to wench where and when he will, with whomever. Yet she was entirely too dependent on her husband to see to her needs. And around him, she always felt needy.

She sat up, yanking the sheets to her breasts as she slid her legs over the side of the bed. Kinlee couldn't prevent a soft gasp as her feet reached the floor. The throbbing agony of her ankle returned with full force. An arm snaked around her waist, preventing her further escape even if she could manage it.

"There is the little matter of your punishment," he murmured huskily. A shiver raced through her, and damn him, he would have felt it. The thought of being returned to the dungeon was perfectly unappealing. Why oh why did the lands between the castle and Harkness's border have to be so very treacherous and far? And why, for that matter, had Vargos, her father's most trusted retainer, chosen to leave her behind when Draven and his men stormed the castle? And...

"I am of the considered opinion that my wearing this chastity belt is punishment enough," Kinlee replied huffily, pushing back a tangle of hair that slid to cover the bare column of her back. "However, I shall collect my cloak. The dungeon can be quite drafty at times."

Kinlee froze when she heard the scrape of a key at the small of her back, then the ease of the gold metal around her hips and thighs. Her fingers curled in the cloth of the bed sheet as silent joy surged through her.

When strong arms drew her back on to the bed so that her head lay across his lap, she complied meekly. His body towered above hers as he reached over her. He threw off the sheet, and many moments passed as she lay there before him, lashes resting against her cheeks. Even after the intimacy they had shared, she could not prevent the blush that bloomed beneath her porcelain skin.

When strong fingers slipped between her thighs, their tips brushing her wispy curls as they gripped the unlocked belt, relief and excitement stormed through her. He drew it slowly down her thighs, and she fantasised about the belt being dropped down a bottomless cavern. A small whimper escaped her at the thought. She shimmied slightly and then lifted her knees almost to her chest so as not to impede her Draven's intentions. Perhaps her handsome husband had learnt the error of his ways?

When the belt clunked to the floor, she bit back a victorious smile. A large hand splayed over her belly, then drew upwards to cup a breast, his thumb brushing the eager crown. Really, he had strange ideas of punishment.

She turned her head and pressed tiny kisses of approval against his belly, just where the paler skin reached the deeper bronze.

The beat of a fist against the chamber doors froze them both. "Your majesty, the men are ready."

Her eyes flew open, locking on his face. He didn't look surprised or annoyed by the interruption. He merely gazed down at her with a quirked eyebrow as he reached for the chain around his neck. "Oooh, you horrible, horrible goat of a man. You had no intentions of..." Kinlee flapped her hand agitatedly as she scrambled off his lap and scooted to the end of the bed on hands and knees. She gasped as he slapped her playfully on the bottom.

She hopped over to the tall chest where her silver brush rested. Why it was in his chamber, she would ponder later. She grabbed it, and turned with the brush upraised protectively, only to find him standing naked by the bed, her chastity belt in his hands.

"No, no, no," she cried, as she hopped toward the nearest door. She opened it, finding dozens and dozens of jewelled gowns and endless shoes and other fripperies that looked startling familiar. What was going on? Husbands and wives did not share chambers. She snagged the only item she could reach, a frothy pale pink stole, pinning it before her with her arm across her breasts. She hopped to the next nearest door.

"That - what I did this morning - that was an aberration," she told him huffily over her shoulder.

"I liked that aberration very much, princess." He infused so much liking into those words he made her blush.

"I know you did, you, you..."

"Weasel?"

"Yes, you weasel!"