Free PETALS AND THORNS by JENNIFER PARIS Page B

trembling with taut anticipation for the crack of the riding crop.
    Oddly, Amarantha couldn't tell whether she feared the pain or was desperately afraid he wouldn't do it.
    Which he didn't.
    Instead the Beast had her stand up and dress herself again, instructing her in a gruff voice. Then he led her to an already saddled mare. Amarantha peered at the saddle, which was covered with a rough burlap toward the cantle, and a little cluster of soft bristles poking through. The front half of the saddle sported an oiled velvet. Another cluster of bristles thrust out of the pommel.
    The Beast handed her up and helped her sit astride. With her sex split open, the pommel bristles tickled her wet folds, which slid on the oiled velvet. The burlap rubbed against her bottom, chafing skin still a bit sore from the spanking, and the bristles poked her a bit uncomfortably at her puckered nether mouth. She frowned, and the Beast chuckled at her expression.

    60

    “All the better to prepare you for this evening's fun and games, my dear.”
    He fastened her riding boots to the stirrups with little hooks, swung up on a massive black stallion, and led them out through the walking paths of the formal gardens, then into the forest. Amarantha quite quickly found herself agitating to escape the tormenting bristles and nubs of the saddle. Her mare strode in a smooth gait, but no matter how Amarantha shifted, something pricked and stimulated her soft flesh.
    She tried raising herself off the saddle, which worked for a time, until her thigh and calf muscles tired, forcing her to sit again on the titillating bristles. All the time her tender nipples rubbed on the jacket. The Beast led them deeper into the forest. Amarantha whimpered at his broad back, but he didn't turn around.
    “My lord…” she finally called out.
    “Yes, my bride?” Still the Beast didn't look at her.
    “I-I can't bear much more of this, my lord.”
    “That is unfortunate, Amarantha, since you must.”
    By the time they wended back to the stables as the sun sank low, Amarantha was nearly frantic from the subtle torture. Tears rolled down her flushed face, and her body prickled in hot arousal. The Beast helped her down from her mare, not commenting, though he supported her when she sagged on weak limbs. He cast an eye at the setting sun and held Amarantha by her gloved hand. She pressed her thighs together, trying to soothe the overstimulated flesh.
    The last of the sun winked over the horizon, and the Beast pushed her up hard against the stable door. Amarantha cried out in shock when he ripped open her jacket, sending buttons flying, and devoured her aching breasts with a rapacious mouth. He thrust his gloved hand into her oversensitized sex, and she came immediately, screaming out her release to the evening sky.
    The Beast set her on her feet, looking like a well-fed cat, still idly toying with her drenched sex.

    61

    “That was a lovely beginning to our evening. Now, off with you to prepare for the rest. I'll see you at dinner, my bride.” He gave her sex an affectionate pat, the black leather making a light smacking sound.
    He turned away and led the horses into the stable, leaving Amarantha to make her way in a daze to the manse, her jacket gaping open while her breasts throbbed.

    * * *
She came down for dinner naked. Except for a pair of very high black heels.
    Even the little robe had disappeared. Clearly the Beast planned to dispense with the more elaborate games tonight. The ghosts had braided her hair high and tight, like a crown, leaving her completely exposed.
    Amarantha felt unaccountably shy walking nude into the drawing room where the Beast awaited her with his customary glass of brandy. Ridiculous, given he'd seen more of her than any other living being had. It just seemed so…brazen to walk around like this.
    The Beast set down his snifter when he saw her, took her hands, and kissed them.
    “You look lovely tonight, my sweet.”
    “I look naked,” she