Resurrection Read online

  Ged stopped turning the root. "You know, I believe you do mean it. I should have thought of this before, but I confess I do rather enjoy spanking you. The problem is, you're far too fond of a decent spanking, I think, for that to ever really act as a deterrent. I believe I may have to order in plenty of ginger."

  He might order all he liked. Jane swore to herself she would never earn herself a punishment like this again. Let his infernal ginger rot in the cellars, she would avoid ever subjecting herself to such torture in the future. She gasped, her body stiff and tense, and she waited for it to be over.

  "I'm not a cruel husband, Janey. This is your first experience of figging—shall we call it a demonstration? You forgot yourself four times, and I think ten minutes will be sufficient for each of those occasions. You can endure this for forty minutes, then I'll remove the ginger and fuck you. The fucking's not part of your punishment, obviously. It’s just that you look so delectable there with your arse filled and your pussy drooling. You may get up if you wish, but if you prefer to remain where you are until your punishment is over, I will understand. You'll have to excuse me though whilst I get on with some work?"

  "Do not go. Please, Sir, do not leave me."

  "Go? Of course I won't go. I'll be right here, Janey." He caressed her quivering bottom with a gentle swipe of his palm. "Remember, a safe word or silence. Nothing else."

  She nodded, then watched over her shoulder as Ged restarted his computer. Jane settled in to wait out her ordeal.

  *****

  He did not let her off so much as a minute. Jane listened in silence to the whirring of the timepiece on the wall. Unlike any chronometer she had ever seen, she had learned that the sweep of the hands across the numbered dial denoted the passage of time. She knew better than to ask how much longer she must endure, so she concentrated on remaining still, her bottom relaxed as far as she was able, and she waited.

  Ged remained at his desk just a couple of feet to her left. He glanced at her from time to time, his expression unreadable. Twice he announced that she was looking too comfortable and took it upon himself to ensure her punishment was suitably memorable in order to press home the lesson he intended to teach her. On each occasion he reached across to rotate the infernal root within her arse. Jane yelped and when that availed her nothing, she ground her teeth together until he ceased tormenting her and returned to his work.

  “Time’s up, Janey.” He stood and patted her buttock gently. “I wonder if you can let me remove this without too much fuss.”

  “Just take it out quickly. Please.” Jane started to rise from her position bent across the desk but Ged pushed her back down, his hand between her shoulder blades.

  “The no talking rule still applies, girl.”

  “Was that not a question, Sir?”

  “No, it wasn’t. Have a care, Jane. There’s a good twenty minutes left in that root.”

  “I apologise, Sir.” She writhed on the desk, and hoped he would be lenient.

  He was. Ged parted her buttocks with his fingers and drew the root out swiftly. It hurt, the burning still acute each time the ginger shifted and rubbed against her delicate inner walls, but she remained still. Jane exhaled when he dropped the horrible thing into a bin beside the desk. At last, this thing he called ‘figging’ was over.

  “You know, for some perverse reason I can’t fathom, the ginger oil is singularly unpleasant when applied to a submissive’s arse, but it has a completely different effect on her clit. I believe I should demonstrate that.

  “Sir?” Jane shuddered. How much longer was this to continue? He had said forty minutes, that time had elapsed.

  “Turn around and lie on the desk, your legs over the end, please.”

  Reluctantly, Jane obeyed.

  “Now bend your knees and place your heels on the edge. Allow your thighs to just flop apart. Like this.” He demonstrated with his hands. “Show me your clit, Jane.”

  “Please Sir, I thought—“

  He silenced her with a finger laid across his own mouth. Jane clamped her lips shut and parted her legs.

  “Sweet. Christ, but you’re lovely, Janey. Especially when you’re all soft and compliant after a punishment. Should I find reasons to discipline you more often, I wonder?”

  Was that a question? Jane thought so, but opted not to risk it. She watched as Ged selected another piece of ginger from those remaining in the bowl. He picked up the knife and sliced one straight across then discarded one section. He appeared to study the moist end for a few seconds, then turned his attention back to her.

  “I’m going to apply this to your clit. Pull back the hood for me, please.”

  Jane groaned, but it never occurred to her to demur. She reached down and pulled back the folds which usually concealed her clitoris to expose the vulnerable bud to his ministrations. She expected this to hurt, though just how much was impossible to gauge.

  Ged rubbed the cut end of the ginger all over her fast-swelling clit, glancing at her face from time to time but mostly concentrating on where he was working. When Jane closed her eyes he commanded her to open them again.

  “Eyes on me. Don’t look away.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “How does that feel?”

  “It feels a little odd, Sir. Warm but not burning.”

  He flattened his lips, seemingly content with that description, and continued to stroke her sensitive bud with the root.

  The heat built, but it felt nothing like the fire within her arse had. This was more…

  Jane searched her vocabulary for the correct word. She came up with decadent. And forbidden. And perhaps wicked. But most of all, it was erotic.

  “Liking that?” Ged murmured the question, one beautiful dark eyebrow raised.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And this?”

  Before she realised what he intended he crouched before her and drew his tongue the length of her slit, curling it around her throbbing clit. Jane let out a startled shriek.

  “Sir, no! You cannot—“

  “Silence, Jane. Mine. I do as I like.”

  He returned to his task, lapping at her folds, flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue then driving it as deep into her pussy as he could. Jane attempted to remain still as he fucked her with his tongue, but it was useless. She clenched hard, her body already starting to spasm as control deserted her.

  “Sir, I believe I might—“

  “Come?” He lifted his head to say the word.

  “Yes, Sir. May I?”

  “You may. You accepted your punishment well, Jane. This is your reward. Enjoy.”

  The soft pressure of his tongue against her pleasantly warmed and tingling clit was a fatal combination. In moments Jane was bucking on the desk, lifting up her hips to press her cunt against his mouth, his hands, the slice of ginger he still held against her quivering pussy lips.

  Her orgasm was swift, powerful, overwhelming. Jane cried out as ecstasy swept away her inhibitions and her senses spun. It was as though she were weightless, drifting, circling, soaring, only to drift back down to earth again as the climax eventually passed.

  Ged stood to look down at her, then leaned over to plant his hands on either side of her head. “That was beautiful to watch, little Janey.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “And now, I fuck you.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  "Wake up, sleeping beauty." Ged leaned over and brushed his lips across Jane's. She stirred and rolled onto her back, causing the duvet to slip and revealing her right breast. He transferred his attention to the rosy nipple.

  "Ged? What are you doing?"

  He smiled as the bud swelled and hardened in his mouth. His little Janey was so responsive. Ged's jaw throbbed as his fangs dropped. He scraped the elongated canines against Janey's trembling breast and peeped up at her as she stiffened in anticipation.

  "You may take my blood, if you desire it, Sir."

  H
e turned his attention to the other breast and considered her offer. Janey had become completely at ease with the prospect of allowing him to taste her blood and he longed to take advantage of her offer. It would be sweet, he knew, with subtle hints of her own unique flavours. But he couldn't. Not yet.

  "Soon, baby."

  "You said it would not cause me injury. I trust you."

  "I know, and I'm glad you do. But the first time’s always unpredictable and the experience could cause you to react in a way I might not expect. Whatever happens I can take care of you, I swear, but I don't know about the baby. So, we'll wait."

  "But—"

  "Enough. We'll wait," he growled. And he meant it. He wouldn't sink his fangs into her until he was at least reasonably certain this pregnancy would succeed. He was determined to take every care of Janey, and would be taking no risks. "Time you were up. We're going out."

  "Out?" Janey sat up, her naked breasts a tantalising sight just inches from his mouth.

  Ged licked his lips, perhaps it would do no harm to delay their departure for a short while...

  No. They were expected in Leicester by early afternoon, even though Janey didn't know it yet.

  "Where are we going? It's daylight."

  "I know, but it'll be fine. The car has protective glass, and once we arrive we'll be indoors." Ged had already taken the precaution of checking their destination ahead of time. He had teleported into the School of Archaeology and Ancient History at the university of Leicester a few days previously to pave the way for today's visit. The research team had accepted his 'suggestion' that as a visiting Professor of Antiquities from the university in Richard's traditional home in York, it was perfectly reasonable that he should wish to view the remains.

  Ged had found the experience fascinating and at the same time macabre and somewhat surreal. He held his breath as he leaned over the table which now bore the King's remains contained within a shallow cardboard box and he lifted the lid to set it aside. The bones had been carefully cleaned, then laid out on a padded surface to protect them, and in the correct anatomical formation, but it was the skull which drew his attention. Peppered with battle wounds, any one of which might have felled the King, this was evidence indeed that Richard did not go down without a fight.

  Ged leaned over to inspect the gaping hole at the base of the skull, in all probability caused by a huge sword wielded with considerable force. This attacker meant business. Other wounds suggested that the king’s body had been further set upon after his death, a practice not uncommon in the middle ages, as Ged recalled. As Ged straightened his gaze was drawn to the blank, empty eye sockets now trained on the fluorescent light above the table. What on earth might Richard have made of all this, Ged wondered.

  Oddly, he believed the king would have approved. A learned man himself, Richard would have appreciated the scholarly interest among historians and archeologists alike. He would have been pleased to further the cause of study.

  Ged gazed on the King in silence, intrigued to see that the skeleton clearly showed the curved spine which had caused the King to walk with a stoop. Ged recalled Richard's somewhat odd gait. At the time it had not seemed so pronounced, but such was the mystique of royalty. Certainly many of the myths which had grown up around this monarch, who had been treated so harshly by history, were untrue. Richard never had a withered arm as was often suggested, and at least the proof of that was here. Whatever Ged's own ambivalence toward Richard, he was happy to acknowledge that the King had been a generally benevolent man who cared for this subjects and attempted to rule well.

  The turbulent events of his short reign obscured his achievements. Richard had been on the throne for less than eight hundred days, but in that time he had improved the legal protection for those accused of crimes, encouraged the development of printing (a new invention then) and sought to make books available to all. Richard was a studious man who had always loved to read.

  Ged had never accepted the tale spread by the Tudors that Richard murdered his nephews. Indeed, it seemed far more likely to him that Henry Tudor himself was responsible for the boys' mysterious disappearance, but as he gazed on the ancient bones laid out so reverently before him, Ged mused that that was all water under the bridge now.

  He replaced the lid on the box then expressed a desire to return with his research associate to make further observations, and used his powers of compulsion to ensure that, naturally, the Leicester team saw no objection to that. They would be delighted to welcome him and Jane, and of course they could spend as long as they liked studying the remains. The Leicester academics had other research of their own to complete, but were already becoming embroiled in legal wranglings as the city of York sought to have the remains returned to be reinterred in the Minster there.

  Ged didn't see how that mattered much at all, and he wasn't convinced Richard would care greatly either. The King had spent a lot of his time in York, of necessity, but had not been especially sentimental about the place as far as Ged was aware. What was important to Ged was that Jane should be able to lay this ghost to rest. She had been shocked, stunned by the realisation of what this discovery meant. He was determined to give her this opportunity to say her farewells, both to Richard and to what this ancient monarch represented from their shared past. Then, they could move on.

  "You never said we had somewhere to go. My next visit to the clinic is not until next week." Jane's pregnancy had reached twelve weeks, a good sign as far as Ged was concerned. He could not recall the exact stage at which she had lost her previous babies, but it was around this point he believed. Every day that passed without incident was a triumph. Jane thought so too, though she never said. He saw it in her eyes though, the worry, the fear. The small but growing shoots of hope.

  "We're not going to the clinic. We're going to Leicester."

  "Leicester? You mean... Richard?"

  He nodded. "I arranged a private visit for you. So if you wouldn't mind dragging yourself from your bed and getting dressed...?"

  "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She threw back the covers to reveal her belly, now starting to thicken but only slightly. Ged placed a mug of tea into her hands as she sat on the side of the mattress and shoved back her mane of red-gold hair.

  "Drink that, shower, and I'll see you downstairs. It's almost a four hour drive so we need to be away soon." He could have easily teleported the pair of them, but preferred to travel down to Leicester the long way. Apart from anything else, the long drives both to the clinic and now to Leicester gave Janey opportunities to see more of her new environment.

  Her smile was radiant. Jane sipped at her tea as she trotted across the room to the en suite. Her beaming grin as she slipped into the shower made his stomach flip over. Jesus, he was going soft in his old age.

  The visit was uneventful. They arrived at the university and made their way to the department of archaeology where Ged charmed the secretary who greeted them. Minutes later, they were shown into the windowless, climate-controlled room which housed the remains which had made headlines around the world.

  The table and the cardboard container were exactly as Ged had left them. He crossed the room to remove the lid, then stood to the side to allow Jane the space and time she needed.

  Jane crept forward, her steps slow, hesitant, until she caught sight of the brown, weathered bones of her long-dead friend. Then she ran forward with a keening cry to grip the edge of the table.

  Ged let her weep. It was cathartic, he reflected, and long overdue. Only when she quieted did he approach her to lay a hand on her shoulder.

  "Do you want me to leave you alone, Janey?"

  She turned her tear-streaked face to him. "No. Please stay."

  He nodded, and drew up a hard plastic chair. This might take a while.

  Jane spoke to Richard, her tone low, reverent. She assured him of her love, her loyalty, her gratitude for all he and his sweet lady wife had done for her. She spoke to him of his courage, his devotion to his d
uty and to his people, and of the treachery which finally was his undoing. She railed at the malevolent forces which had conspired to rob him of his throne and his life, and she swore to defend his memory to her dying breath. Ged had no doubt at all that she meant every word, though he also hoped that saying it all out loud would go some way to healing the anger and despair she still carried with her.

  Her grief and sense of loss were evident, but she was already looking to a future so he was encouraged by that.

  "I should like to pray, if I may." She glanced at him, expectant. She had always been a pious soul, though since their reunion in this time she had made little reference to her faith.

  Ged nodded. "Go ahead." He did not offer to join her. Those days were long past for him.

  Jane lowered herself to her knees beside the glass case, her head bowed as she murmured words of devotion and entreaty to a God who may or may not be listening. She believed it though, so for Ged that was good enough. He remained silent, his focus on the two hearts which beat at his feet, and he wondered if perhaps he should offer up a word or two, just in case.

  "I am ready to leave now."

  At last Jane stood, and disturbed his reverie. Ged glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to realise they had been closeted in here with Richard for almost two hours.

  "You're finished?"

  "I am, yes." She held out her hand to him. "I should like to return home now."

  Ged took her outstretched hand and tugged her to him. He slanted his lips over hers for brief kiss.

  "You okay? We can always come back again, if you want to."

  "No, Sir. I believe he is at peace now, as am I." She smiled up at him, her eyes glittering with tears she might yet shed.

  "Good," murmured Ged, his arm across her narrow shoulders. "Home, then."

  *****

  "Ged. Ged...!"

  He swivelled in his chair, his heart lurching at the panic in her voice. Janey!

  "Help me. Ged!" She screamed again, her desperation and anguish reverberating in the shriek of pure terror.