The Princess and the Huntsman Read Online Free PDF Page B

greater strength and size. When he got close enough, she set her teeth to his arm—hard. He shouted an epithet and pulled his arm free. Tiny droplets of blood began to ooze from the arcade of tooth marks Brandywyn had left behind. This time, any gentleness he may have been showing her was discarded. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and turned her to face away from him. Brandywyn could hear the jingle of his belt buckle as he pulled it free.
    Oh, no! He was going to make good on his promise to spank her with his belt! Brandywyn struggled harder, trying to break free of his iron grip on the back of her neck. No scratching and hitting his hand would make him relent, though she tried her hardest. She tried to stomp back on his toes, but her bare feet were no match for his booted ones.
    Inexorably, he pressed her face down on the log. It was scratchy on her cheek, but she could see him standing next to her, his back bent as he held her firmly. He put his loose belt between his legs and hiked Brandywyn’s pitiful skirt up over her back. She tried to struggle it back down, but his hand on her neck pressed harder and she stilled. Her bare bottom, once warm from her earlier spanking, now cooled to the evening air. There was no comfort in that breeze.
    Smith took the belt from its resting place and slowly wrapped it around his hand, leaving a looped tail. Seeing her watching him, he grinned and struck his thigh with the weapon. The loud crack made Brandywyn flinch and grow even more terrified. Once more, she struggled, but her cheek was pressed tight to the weather-smoothed log and her struggles availed her nothing.
    There were no preambles, no gentle tests of her mettle. The first strike made her cringe and squeak. It was so loud in the quiet forest, and the men cheered at her expense.
    Another smack and she tried not to flinch, tried not to make a sound. She bit her lip and as more and more spanks beleaguered her raw bottom, she bit it bloody. Eventually, after the belt had fallen so many times that Brandywyn, in her extremis, could not count, she cried out. She could not help it. She screamed with all her might. The pain was excruciating, her body rebelling and without thinking, she tried to put her hands over her behind. She got a sharp crack with the belt on her knuckles for her troubles.
    “Hands down!”
    “Oh, stop! Please, Smith, stop!”
    Silently, he spanked her until she thought her bottom would melt from the heat, the fire scorching her down her thighs and over the bits of her private parts that were exposed. Brandywyn, cosseted as she had been, had never felt pain like this before. She broke down into tears, screaming and crying her eyes out. She thought she might die, right here, right now, die in the hands of cruel captors, wearing rags and dirt for her shroud.
    “Never, ever , put your teeth to me, brat!” Smith ordered.
    Her sobs drowned out her agreement. She would have agreed to nearly anything to stop the punishment, but in this case, she certainly meant it. Biting him and receiving retribution with his belt had been a very bad idea.
    The spanking stopped, and after one more half-hearted shove of her face against the log, Smith straightened and began to put the belt back in its place at his waist.
    Brandywyn stood, quite painfully, and her skirt dropped down off her back. It was scratchy against her raw bottom, and the princess could feel the heat of her flayed behind through the thin fabric.
    Smith grabbed her hands and wrapped her wrists with the rope—the awful, confining rope—and bent to tie her ankles also. Soon, she was trussed up. He fetched her fine cloak from his saddle and wrapped it around her, though Brandywyn was sure that the heat of her behind would keep her warm, even on such a chilly night. Smith tugged her toward the fire and forced her to sit, then lie down a bit away from it. He got his cloak and lay next to her. There was no touching, just heat between them. It was unpleasant,