Has Mr. Darcy sinned?

As Darcy stood there stark naked, tied to the upper beams of the gym equipment, she picked up the belt and thrashed his arse again. He was a superb specimen, not an ounce of fat on his body. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, a pert bum, and particularly well endowed. Pity he was such a jerk, and that this fine body would soon bear the scars of his own wrongdoing. She raised the belt again.

“Stop!” His voice was hoarse, his throat tight, his hands and legs burned against the restraints and his bottom started to feel numb.  “You’ve got the wrong man. I’m Fitzwilliam Darcy. I’ve never met this Miss Lucas. I’ve never hurt her.”

Elizabeth sat down on the bed, tired from the lashing. “She met you on the Internet two months ago,” she sighed.

“I don’t meet strange women on the Internet. You can check the history of my iPad or laptop.”

Elizabeth hated liars, particularly those who had no remorse. Throwing the belt onto the floor, she walked up to him and slapped his thigh.

“No!” he screamed out. A red palm mark scorched his skin. It hurt more than the belt. Who was this woman? Her hand was like iron. He panted, squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling, and bit his lip to will the pain away.

You can continue reading in The Angel Sees Grey: Pleasure & Punishment for Mr. Darcy