Friday, June 22, 2018

SIX OF THE BEST_THE KING'S VICE by Felicity Brandon

Six of the Best
British Spankings
Blurb:
Assume the position and prepare for Six of the Best!

Six SCORCHING stories from USA Today and number 1 bestselling British authors! This is the 100% British historical anthology you've been waiting for. So, grab a cup of tea and make sure the smelling salts are to hand, then settle in as our heroines re-write the rules and earn SIX OF THE BEST for their outrageous antics. This dance across history sweeps from the Restoration to Victorian times and will leave you panting almost as much as our naughty ladies.

Publisher's note: These stories are HOT. Hotter than an oven full of muffins in a well-known British cake show. Domestic discipline and other indoor sports feature heavily in them, so if that's not your cup of tea, this is probably not the set for you. Don't say we didn't warn you!


The King’s Vice by Felicity Brandon
You cannot resist the King’s command.

Excerpt (spanking):
One stride and he is right against me, his breath hot over my face, laced with the expensive wine we consumed earlier in the evening. “Yes, Lady Jane,” he answers. “This is where you shall be bared and spanked.”
Bared? I know my eyes widen at the word. “I am to be bared, Your Majesty?” I say, forcing the words from my mouth in a rush of anxious excitement. “All of me?”
He breaks into a low laugh. “There is a choice,” he replies, pushing my shoulders gently downwards, so that my bottom falls to the soft bedding below me. Now he towers over me, and as I raise my head to see him, my eyes meet his groin. I still at the sudden proximity to the place I know conceals His Majesty’s passion, my gaze lingering longer than it has right to, before rising slowly to meet his delicious brown eyes. His grin widens, acknowledging the brazen nature of my thoughts, and unbelievably I blush again, grateful for the shadows which may just hide my shame.
“A choice, Your Majesty?” I manage, my chest rising and falling faster with each passing moment.
He lowers himself in front of me, so that our eyes are at the same level. “A choice,” he agrees, pressing himself forward over my body. I gasp as he shifts his weight, his dexterity taking me by surprise. The sudden appearance of his face forces me backwards, and I find myself pinioned beneath his body, my legs splayed awkwardly under the skirts of my gown.
“There is always a choice, Lady Jane,” he murmurs, the strands of his dark curls hanging about my face.
I bite my lip, confusion and arousal at my change of circumstances, combined with my restricting bodice making it hard to breath. “What is the choice, Your Majesty?” I gasp.
The smile on his face is sin itself, and in this moment, I know that I have walked straight into his trap, although whether I have done so willingly or not is not even clear to me. “You can either be upturned over my knee, your skirts hoisted high over your back so that your delicious bottom is exposed to my palm, or…” He pauses, angling the weight of his stare over my face.
My mind, filled with the image he has just painted of me, reels at the silence. Is he expecting me to reply? What is the etiquette for such moments?
His expression shifts into a low chuckle as he appraises whatever constitutes my expression at this moment, and fortunately he once again takes pity on me, his humble servant. “Or, you can be stripped entirely.”
This time I cannot conceal the audible gasp which escapes from my lips. “Entirely, Your Majesty?” I repeat, as though surely his words cannot be real. Although of course I know them to be true, having only just left four naked ladies in the prior room.
“Yes, dear Jane,” he muses from over me. “A lady can only truly be admired in her own, natural form.”
I contemplate him, this man—my monarch—who has captured me so easily into his delicious game. “No one has ever seen me bare, Your Majesty,” I whisper, the words an admission of my innocence—a fact I have already articulated.
He nods. “I know,” he replies. “And I assume that until this night no man has ever claimed your sweet mouth, spoken to you of such lewd subjects, or pinned you against his bed?”
His brow rises as he speaks, the small gesture releasing a flood of moisture from between my legs. I am not absolutely clear what it is about him which is so alluring, but he most certainly has it. Yes, he is the King, and yet it is so much more than that. He is the devil in disguise, a debauch and beguiling demon, sent forth to worship and corrupt me. The thought makes me smile, in spite of my shame on the subject.
“You’re correct, Your Majesty,” I say with a small nod. “You are the first, on all counts.”
Smiling at the acknowledgment, he lowers his face into mine. Those full lips graze my mouth, parting my lips in an instant as my eyes slip shut. I want him to kiss me, to claim me, to own me. I desire it in a way I have no right to do. I demand it.

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