At one wall is a leather couch. It’s been here since I can remember and the leather is worn, faded. Two large trunks, one containing the moth-eaten ceremonial robes the priests would wear, the other the items I need for tonight. The floor is stone and although it’s been swept it’s nowhere near clean. The ceiling is high, as high as the chapel ceiling but there is no dirt hill beneath this room. No one is buried underneath. Not that I know of at least. There is a single small window that’s boarded from the outside. If it weren’t for the candles, the room would be pitch black. Those candles stand on the floor along the walls, in small alcoves carved out as shelves, all around us.
And deeper in the room is the reason she’s here. The pillory I purchased tonight stands as the centerpiece. It’s covered by the red velvet cloth. Dex and the two men who carried it onto the auction floor brought it here and put it in place while the auction went on. It stands open now ready to receive my bride.
“Jericho?” Isabelle asks, turning in my arms to face me.
I look down at her, tug the cloak off her shoulders and let it drop to the dirty floor. Her dress is next. It’s easy to strip it off her, unzipping the short zipper at her back, a tug severing the cord holding the wide shoulders together, the silk sliding smoothly down her thighs so she’s standing in heels and panties. No bra.
“I want to go back,” she says when I take her wrists and walk her backwards.
“We’ll go back once we’re finished.” I bend my head down, draw her closer and kiss her. It’s a different kiss than usual. Softer. More sensual. I feel her body relax as our kiss deepens. Hear her quiet moan. I take her lower lip between mine, biting softly before releasing it and dragging the scruff of my jaw across her cheek until my mouth is next to her ear. I tug the cloth off the pillory.
“Are you ready?” I ask her.
She glances at it, shudders, turns back to me.
“Just you and me, Isabelle.”
Her throat works as she swallows and she gives a small nod.
I raise her arms and turn her to face the pillory, lean her toward it, bending her because this isn’t the exact pillory used during the marking. It’s similar but not the same. This one is set on a post and positioned so whoever it holds must bend at the hips. And it’s not as old as it’s made to look.
I bend her over, setting her wrists in their places, her pretty little neck in its center. I draw back and look at her. Think how perfect she is.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, tracing the ink that glows black in the candlelight.
I heave the heavy top piece in place, securing it and bend to kiss her shoulder. If I were cruel, I’d let her carry the full weight of it, but I’m not that cruel. She’ll feel the wood restraining her, feel her submission, but it won’t weigh more heavily than necessary.
I step back, listen to the sound of candle flames, to the sound of her breathing. I’m hard. With one hand I draw her panties over her hips and let them drop to the floor. She flexes her hands and I look across to the gold-plated antique mirror set against the wall just across from her. Our eyes meet and hold. I want to have her, to take her now, but we need to settle something between us.
I walk around her once, push a stray hair from her face as she looks up at me through thick lashes. When I’m behind her again I nudge her legs wide and press a hand to her lower back, so she’s arched and open for me. Obscenely spread for me. And as I have before I think about how she has this power to make me want. She’s no different than many others. She’s beautiful but so are others. But it’s her I want. This Bishop girl. And I can’t understand that.
She watches me in the mirror as I roll up the sleeves of my shirt. She licks her lips, shifting on her feet as a line of arousal slides down the inside of one thigh.
But we aren’t just fucking tonight. That’s not why I brought her here.
I walk over to the trunk and open it. From inside I take out the black cloak and drape it across my shoulders, closing the clasp, letting the hood hang down my back.
“Jericho?”
I take the mask out next. It’s a copy of the one I wore that first night in the chapel, horns and all. I slip it over my face and watch her eyes track me as I return to her.
“You’re scaring me,” she says when I step behind her.
I place my hands on her ass, spread her open. I close my thumb over her asshole.
“You know if my brother and I wore mask and cloak I doubt you’d be able to tell us apart. His back is inked same as me. Did you know that?”
She shakes her head as I slide one hand to her clit and rub, pushing two fingers into her before dragging that moisture up to her other hole.
“I would know the difference,” she says, testing the strength of the lock holding the heavy wooden bar in place. “I would.”
“I wonder.”
“Are you going to share me?”
I stop, my body tensing.
“Is that why he told me?”
I watch her face as I push my finger into her ass. See her manage a sudden panic.
“Did he touch you?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Good. Then I won’t have to cut off his hands.” I shift my attention to her ass. “Do you remember what I told you the night I brought you up from the cellar?”
She exhales, her muscles tensing around the intrusion, eyes wide in the mirror.
“About Kimberly. Do you remember?” I ask, sliding my finger in and out. I undo my belt and pants and push my cock into her pussy.
She moans, arching her back.
I smile, pull my finger out of her ass, and slap her hip with the flat of my hand.
She gasps and I have her attention again.
“Focus. Do you remember?”
She nods, licks her lips. “You said not to mention her. Ever. You said… you said…”
“And yet you disrespect her memory.” I slap her ass again.
“I didn’t!”
I draw her cheeks apart, watch her pussy spread to take me.
Her eyes glaze over but after two more thrusts when my shaft is coated in her juices, I draw out and meet her eyes in the reflection of the mirror as I bring my cock to her ass.
“Oh…” She shakes her head, understanding what’s going to happen. “Please… Not there.”
“I’m going to make sure you come. And you’ll come hard. But first, a little punishment. Because what else did I tell you? What did I say about my brother?”
I push against her tight hole, and she squeezes her eyes shut panting, muscles tensing to keep me out.
“This is happening. It’ll be easier for you if you don’t resist,” I tell her.
“Please, Jericho. What do you want?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I want your ass.”
“No. I mean…please.”
“What did I say about my brother?” I ask as she whimpers when her tight opening stretches enough to take the head of my cock.
“To stay away,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “It hurts. Please, it hurts.”
“And you’re zero for two. You’re not a very good listener, are you?”
She shakes her head as I grip her hips, sliding one hand down to her clit to rub, pushing deeper into her tight passage. She closes her eyes, her mouth falling open, strands of hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead.