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Mercifully, her own private torture seemed to have stopped for the moment, giving Marian a chance to gather control and fight the increasing sensitivity in her own body. Vaguely, she also realized that now she was to see exactly what awaited her if she could no longer restrain herself.

Pauletta didn’t seem dismayed as she was arranged over the huge half barrel, feet flat on the ground, back arched over the fixture, belly facing up. Her arms were drawn up over her head, and reached nearly to the floor behind her, where they were manacled in place. Her breasts lifted, her legs spread and chained, her dark hair spilled down the side of the barrel into a pool on the floor.

Her pale skin gleamed like soft pearl skin in the yellow light, her pink nipples and the dark bush of hair over her mound the only color in the living statue. Pauletta breathed hard, her breasts shimmering with each gasp, her hips twitching, and Marian could see the dark folds of her quim glistening.

She licked her lips, then realized she’d moved, and her eyes darted quickly around to see if anyone had noticed. They were all watching Pauletta, praise God, and no one had noticed her weakness.

Even Will, who stood nearby, his face like marble, had his eyes focused on the long, slender body on display before him.

I should love to be the woman who brings him to his knees. Pauletta’s arch words settled in Marian’s mind and burrowed there deeply. He fascinates me.

Would he touch her? Marian couldn’t take her eyes off the scene in front of her, her heart thumping madly. Her belly felt tight and expectant, but, mercifully, Glynna chose to remain still. Mayhap the woman realized that no one would be watching if she continued her torture.

Or mayhap she wanted to listen to the proceedings-for she could see nothing from her position.

But Marian could see it all.

John moved first, so quickly that Marian didn’t realize what was happening. But then she heard the light smack of leather striking flesh, followed by a soft grunt of surprise. She saw Pauletta’s body twitch as John raised his hand and rained blows over her belly and thighs.

They were light ones, for there were no corresponding blood lines drawn onto her skin. But each touch of the slender leather caused Pauletta to gasp and jerk and cry out in pained pleasure.

Marian could not look away, and the sight of her confined body, spread so, roused her own emotions. And when Glynna decided that the truce was over and began to slide her tongue around in circles . . . around and around and around her taut nipple . . . Marian felt the lust rise from deep inside her.

Yet she could not look away as John stepped back, thrusting the slender whip into the hands of one of his men. He breathed heavily, his mouth full and shiny beneath the beard, and he lifted his tunic, untied his braies.

Pauletta cried out as he shoved himself between her legs, his hands closing over her upthrust breasts as he stroked between her legs. He stroked and Marian kept her mind blank by counting the number of times he slammed into her . . . five … six . . . seven. . . . She lost count as Pauletta began to roll and cry beneath John’s onslaught.

And as the prince cried his release, stumbling back and away, Pauletta whimpered . . . begging for more. “Please,” she sobbed, her hips moving desperately against the smooth wood beneath her. The red folds of her quim shone bright, and then Ralf shoved his way into place between her hips.

Pauletta cried out in relief, and as Ralf rode her, his fingers curling into her white hips, Louis walked over and straddled the barrel at the location of her neck, facing Ralf, who pumped away at her hips. Marian watched as he pulled out his slender white cock and began to jerk hard on it, faster and faster, and she watched the two men as their pleasure shone on their faces . . . growing tight and pained as they seemed to race to the end.

Glynna’s fingers began to work again, and her tongue ceased its swirling and began to tickle over the top of her nipple, where it was the most sensitive. Marian watched, horrified, fascinated, titillated . . . unable to take her eyes away, as her own pleasure grew and swelled. Pauletta’s low little cries filled her ears, along with her own breathing, and she heard the other woman gasp her relief . . . sobbing her pleasure in a long, keening moan.

Marian closed her eyes, struggling desperately to retain control of her own body. Her breathing rasped louder-her mouth had opened and she did not care. . . . She shuddered and trembled deep beneath her skin, fighting to remain outwardly frozen.

Her nipple grew tighter and more sensitive, the twitching fingers between her legs more insistent . . . and yet . . . not enough. Not enough to bring her over . . . to give relief.

She rose and fell, gathered up and then eased, beneath the very skillful fingers … and suddenly she felt the surge of wetness around her own fingers.