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A flash story with (almost) no sex.
He knelt with his back to her, his fingers laced behind his neck. She slapped him gently up and down his sides, and across his broad back. Even though it didn't really hurt, the Duke still flinched at each tap. She used the handle to massage his anus and testicles, bringing a moan to the Duke's lips.
He jumped as she landed a smart blow to the meat of his shoulders. It stung for a moment before it became a delicious warmth on his skin. The strength of her blows gradually increased, and the Duke reached into his breeches to grasp his throbbing sex. Rosalind stopped beating him for a moment, and the Duke turned to see her pulling her skirts up even higher so she could touch herself with her free hand. It was too much for the Duke, three more blows and he was spent. She came soon after him, gasping as she continued to work the Duke's skin.
The Duke turned to see the Princess rearranging her skirts. She rose to stand by the door, the key in her hand. She watched him coldly as he dressed, she even pushed him away when he tried to kiss her good bye.
"I guess I will see you soon then," the Duke said, searching her eyes for some sign of warmth, but the fire glowing in her delicate eyes was not one kindled with love. He told himself that her severe conduct was only a token of her affection.
He returned to his chambers and told Lignerol to prepare him a cool bath with some milk and honey in it to soothe his skin. It was necessary for Lignerol to help him remove his clothes, as his shoulders had gone stiff, and he gasped when he saw the red welts that covered the Duke's upper body.
"What is this?" he demanded, poking at an angry weal.
The Duke pulled away. "The Princess was in an...unusual mood today."
"And you let her do this to you?" Lignerol threw the Duke's jacket in the corner, and dropped his sword to the ground.
"I wasn't really sure what it was she wanted."
"Oh, and when she picked up, whatever it is she used, when she took some whip in her hand, you did not figure out what her intentions were then?" He pushed the Duke into a chair to wrench off his boots. "Well, I hope your adventures have not left you too badly injured. The Duke d'Alva is on his way to espouse Madame Elisa for the King of Spain, and our King wishes for you to go greet him."
"Damn it, when will he be here?"
"Soon," Lignerol said with a wicked smile.
The Duke was so busy with the preparations for the nuptials, he saw little of Rosalind. First, the Duke d'Alva had to be entertained. Once that royal arrived, the Duke was always in attendance upon him. He heard tales of the splendid Rosalind charming the members of this foreign court, but he did not see her. As far as their affair, she refused to see him. He began to grow thin again.
* * * *
The Duke had been so pleased with the confession he had overheard Rosalind make to her husband, he had foolishly confided in her uncle, the Viscount de Chartes. Little did he expect so much trouble from a moment of weakness. Although he told the Viscount the tale concerned a dear friend, the Viscount did not believe him. When the Viscount retold the story, he was very clear about his own beliefs, that the Duke was in love with a married woman who gave no sign of it. Creeping about his beloved's quarters, the Duke was lucky enough to eavesdrop upon the most extraordinary conversation.
Princess Mary squealed with delight when she heard the tale. Rosalind had become frigid to her again, and the rumor would give her the perfect opportunity to torment her. She enlisted the aid of her lover, M. d'Anville, to send the Duke to her after she broached the topic with Rosalind. She felt perfectly wicked, so much so that she was getting ready to abort her plan. When Rosalind arrived wearing one of her love tokens, her guilt dissipated. If she was going to shut their love away, then she should also leave Mary's jewels in their box.
"I have a little treat for you. Come, sit here with me," Mary said, patting the bed next to her.
The Princess' smile faltere