The Enchantress of Ingley Ch. 04

George slid his hands up to grasp and squeeze Isolde, drawing her back hard, forcing her to take him to the root. As he began to release within her, she arched back against him, pressing her lean form against his. One of her arms slipped back to cradle the back of his head, and she turned hers to offer those crimson lips.

He caught them eagerly, and kissed his lover soundly. Ignorant of the jealous gaze the one who called him father offered, he just kept his powerful arms wrapped about Isolde, trapping her against his chest.

Only after a long moment in his embrace did she draw her lips from his, catching the lower between her teeth for a sharp tug.

"Well, my dear," Isolde breathed out against his flesh, "I think she's been punished enough, for now. I think I have another task for her."

George gazed into her eyes, and a smile crossed his features. He was still lost in the pleasures her body offered. It was easy to forget what a scold she could be, at times like that. "Of course, my beautiful one."

A cruel little smile once more played across those elegant features, before she began to extract herself from his arms. George stepped aside a pace, just to lean against the frame which still held Marissa.

Without a care about her appearance, Isolde let that skirt drift back into place along legs that still trembled slightly. She lay one long nailed hand on Marissa's chest, just between her breasts. "Well, you little whore?" Her words grew harsh, "Do you think you can redeem yourself?"

Marissa glared once more, but mumbled about her gag and nodded. It only earned a light smack to her cheek with an open palm.

Isolde laughed, then spoke in a purring tone, "Good. Let's see if you can prove yourself worthy of your father's care. So long as this Jenrea girl is out there, the Prince is a lost cause. And I suspect you have other reasons to want her dealt with, don't you?"

Marissa nodded uncertainly, but the Squire's lover spared her further prying. Instead, the raven haired temptress drew a lone vial from her cleavage. George was absolutely certain he hadn't felt anything of the sort there, and for a moment was puzzled where she had been storing it. A sharp glance from Isolde kept him from voicing his question.

"Get yourself cleaned up and dressed. I would like you to bring Jenrea here. I am sure you can convince her, but if you have any troubles, give her this." She tapped the small vial against Marissa's skin. "This, my dear, is a little something that will make her more pliable, more apt to follow your suggestions."

The gagged Marissa nodded, and Isolde rewarded her with a smile. The smile soon faded, however, and she slipped one hand up to caress Marissa's cheek. The gentle touch lasted only a moment, before those digits instead wound in Marissa's hair, and tugged those coppery curls sharply.

"Do not fail again. Do you understand?"

A strained and pained looking nod was her only answer.

George shook his head, but did not stop Isolde's handling of Marissa. Instead, he merely fastened his clothing once more, as if in a daze, then moved back to that great chair of his, and settled back into it. He watched as Isolde loosened the cuffs that had held the younger woman in that frame. The gag was the last to go, and Marissa worked her jaw with a wince after it was removed.

"Now go, slut." Isolde hissed sharply, and the younger woman darted hastily toward her quarters, clad only in the tattered remains of her earlier outfit.

When she was gone, his lover approached him once more, and deposited herself within his lap. She lay one hand at his chest, and spoke in a soft tone, "You did well, Squire."

The praise from her was rare enough, and sent a little thrill down his spine. He so wished that she would be like that more often. "Don't you worry that the villagers will hate this move?"

"You leave that to me, dear heart. Do you doubt my judgment?" A little pout quivered her lower lip, and she stared up to him with those big beautiful eyes of hers.

"W-well, it's not that."

"It better not be." She went from pout to snarl in a moment, and sank her nails painfully into his flesh. "Do not question me again."

The Squire winced despite himself, though it was more from her tone than the pain. So swiftly, she was back to her usual self. "I won't, Isolde."

She smiled softly, then graced his chin with a little kiss. "Good. I would hate for you to ruin my good mood. Things will be looking up soon, I promise you." Then, she slipped from his lap, leaving him wanting more of that touch. "I have things to do, I will see you again later, dear heart."

Although he had no reason to believe her words, they were somehow reassuring. He just sat within his lonesome hall, and watched her until she was no longer in sight.