Free Bride of the Revolution by Bethany Amber Page B

madame.
    â€˜Something wrong?’ asked Philipe, his eyes darting from Grace, whose head was bowed meekly, to madame. He was enjoying the sight of her full breasts pressed together by her bonds, and he could not keep the annoyance from his voice. ‘What is it?’
    â€˜Bring the chain between her flesh lips,’ said madame, lifting the loose end herself and allowing it to sway between Graces slightly parted thighs.
    â€˜Of course, madame,’ agreed the gaoler. ‘ Naturellement ! Tight to part those pretty petals and stimulate the female bud.’
    Grace tried to ignore the coarse face of the gaoler close to hers as he slung the chain between her thighs, and to ignore the rough fingers as he spun her round. The links of the chain were chill against her sex flesh. They made her shudder and she winced as they were pulled tighter, abrading her nubbin and driving into the soft moistness of the folds.
    â€˜ Très jolie !’ murmured madame, testing the tightness of the chain at Grace’s belly and buttocks. ‘Very pretty. Don’t you think so, Philipe?’
    â€˜Indeed,’ agreed the young man, his eyes shining with lust. ‘ Absolument !’
    The gaoler knelt at her feet to coil more chains about her ankles and a bar to keep her legs stretched wide apart. Grace felt the heat of his breath against her bound pussy. She felt her face burn with shame as he nuzzled his nose into the chained valley of her flesh pot.
    â€˜Up, up now,’ ordered madame. ‘Pull her up just a little from the floor, and let us see just how submissive we can make her.’
    The chains made frightening clanking noises and Grace felt her body stretched once more, her limbs pulled unnaturally and the smooth links pressed deeply into her moist heat.
    Bound once more, Grace found herself staring wistfully into the eyes of the footman. He seemed resigned to what was to come, even happy. His wide lips were curved in a smile, parted as if ready for a kiss. She could see the tension in the muscles of his arms, the heave of his broad chest. Her eyes were drawn to the arch of his cock, still turgid despite its release moments earlier. A pearl of semen still hovered at the swollen bulb, glinting in the flickering light of the sconces.
    â€˜Turn him round, gaoler,’ ordered Philipe. ‘His grinning face is insolent.’
    Grace, in the fine but strong chains, her legs thrust wide apart and her arms shackled to the ceiling of the cave-like dungeon, felt bereft of the man’s companionship when she could no longer see his face. His broad shoulders, narrow waist, and muscular buttocks, were small compensation.
    â€˜Get on with it,’ Philipe, as always, was impatient.
    â€˜Yes, sire. I think you’ll find the lash I’ve chosen more than adequate for the task.’ The gaoler, sweating with his considerable duties that evening, held up a long and rigid leather handle, attached to which were several fine chains into which were slotted sharp pieces of metal.
    Grace could not help but let out a gasp of horror. She tugged on the chains that held her to the ceiling, making her bonds tinkle angrily and the links drive into her flesh. She felt her breasts move against her upper arms, brushing the nipples to hardness.
    â€˜Be still!’ ordered madame. ‘Or the gaoler will be forced to use the implement upon you.’
    â€˜Don’t hurt her,’ begged the footman, his voice muffled by the post to which he was tied. ‘Flay my flesh from my bones, but don’t hurt her.’
    Madame chuckled. ‘It shall be as you say.’
    The dank air whistled as the awful implement was brought down upon the footman’s vulnerable back.
    Chapter Four
    â€˜I think,’ said madame, stroking Grace’s naked body which lay, very still and languid, at the foot of her bed, ‘it is time to allow the rest of the court to view you.’
    The green eyes widened