The Viscount’s Pet
by Kryssie Fortune
When her brother tries to force her into a marriage with a detestable baron, Julianna Halstead flees the family estate she has helped manage since the death of her parents. But as she makes her escape late at night, Juliana’s carelessness nearly results in her being trampled by a galloping horse, and the steed’s handsome rider takes it upon himself to correct her right then and there.
Though having her bottom bared and soundly spanked on the side of the road leaves Juliana blushing crimson, the punishment arouses her intensely and her body’s helpless response cannot be hidden. To make matters worse, the gentleman over whose lap she was so firmly chastised turns out to be none other than Viscount Stonehurst, someone she has known since childhood.
When Stonehurst learns of Juliana’s predicament, he decides to make her his bride. She will be no ordinary wife, however. She will be something much more shameful. But even as she is leashed, collared, and put on display in a cage wearing only a tail, then brought out to be used in ways no proper lady should enjoy, will Juliana come to love her new life as the viscount’s pet?
Publisher’s Note: The Viscount’s Pet is a stand-alone novel which shares the Regency-era setting of Wickedly Used and His Innocent Bride. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
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Here is a hot excerpt
Letting him plug her darkest entrance still felt scandalous and taboo. Her submissive side found it raw and erotic, so primal it was intoxicating. Wearing her tail helped her sink into pet space and freed her from any concerns and inhibitions.
Stonehurst stood with his back to the window, silhouetted by the light. He turned stern and commanding—her master in every sense. “Do you trust me never to hurt you or push you too far?”
“Of course,” she answered instantly.
He passed her a small wooden box. “Take a look at this, puss.”
Puzzled, she lifted the lid and pulled out a bundle of leather straps with buckle fastenings at each end. A ball with fine whiskers attached hung in the middle. Uncertain, she ran her fingers over it.
She hardly spoke when in feline mode, just mewled or purred as she wound between her beloved master’s ankles. She wasn’t sure about wearing a gag, but her cunny tingled at the thought. “You want to silence me?”
Part of her wanted to back off in horror, but if she was honest, she loved it.
Stonehurst kissed the tip of her nose. “Think about it for as long as you like, sweetheart. The decision is always yours.”
Reassured, she dropped to her knees and crawled to her cage. Pausing in the doorway, she gave her derriere a sassy wiggle. His hungry groan made her feel feminine and flirty.
Their evenings were unusual and naughty, but she thought them perfect. She held the ball to her lips and licked it. It didn’t taste of sour glue or even of chemicals, so she slipped it into her mouth to test it.
She felt more vulnerable than ever, but Stonehurst would never hurt her. Her jaw might ache if they used it too long, though. Next, she pulled the straps around her head. It wouldn’t be too tight, and her feline side loved her spider-thin whiskers.
Taking it from her lips, she emerged from her refuge and rubbed against Stonehurst’s calves. He stroked her hair. “Has my sweet little kitten decided? No pressure, puss, do what seems right.”
She blinked as she looked up at him then nodded.
“Good girl,” he approved, “but if you hate it, remove it. Although, in here, I like my kitty having whiskers.”
With a swish of her hips that waggled her tail, she sat on her haunches and sucked the ball back into her mouth. She sank to all fours, her head lowered for him to fasten the buckle. Pawing at her face, she gave a contented purr. She’d never been more cat.
He hooked a leash into a metal loop stitched into her collar. “Cats use their whiskers to sense their surroundings. I can help with that.”
He pulled off his cravat and folded it into a makeshift blindfold, and fastened it around her eyes. The darkness disoriented her.
He tickled behind her ear. “Show me what a well-behaved kitty you are. Let’s take a stroll. Try to stay close to my legs, but I’ll spank you if you trip me.”
Rubbing against him, she trailed her whiskers against his breeches. She concentrated on every sound, determined to please him. He must have brought the riding crop from Grace Street over with their sex toys. He guided her around the room by planting a series of light slaps to her thigh.
After a couple of circuits, he removed the blindfold. “Well done, puss.”
His praise delighted her. As a reward, he teased her by dangling a long piece of fur over her head. She liked that when she batted it, the bell on her collar rang.
After a while, he changed tactics, dragging it along the carpet. She pounced like a lioness. Her new bell tinkled as she caught it with her first leap.
He rubbed her cheek. “I think your reactions have got faster. Give it back and I’ll beat you next time.”
Her inner animal snarled, and she hugged the trophy two-handed to her chest. She’d won it, and her wildcat side intended to keep it, even if he spanked her for it. Maybe she wanted his palm beating on her posterior and the intense orgasms that followed.
When he tried to take it, she growled, wiggled her hips in mock attack mode, and slapped his arm.
He gave her behind a sharp smack. “Bad kitten. Behave or your master will spank you in earnest.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she twined about his legs like a she-cat in heat, but she refused to relinquish her prize.
He swooped without warning, grabbed her by the waist, and hauled her across to the sofa. When he sat, he draped her over her knee. She jiggled her hips, all sass and sensual invitation.
“Twenty hard spanks, but if you drop the fur I’ll stop. You got that, kitten?”
Gagged, she couldn’t answer, so she clutched her trophy tighter. His dominance thrilled her, and she submitted completely. Reality faded. All that mattered was pleasing her master. Fucking him afterward, too.
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