Excerpt of Lick of the Flame by Louisa Crane

*The Castle Dungeon*

SOFTLY HE SAID, “Put the whipping stool in the middle of
the floor, Charlotte.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Because you want me to.”

He knew. Somehow, he knew everything.

She looked toward the door, still half-open; anyone could
come down here and walk in on them. Before she could
voice that concern, Darius crossed to the door, pulled it
shut, and tugged a rusty steel plate down over the little
window. He took a key from a hook on the wall, twisted it
in the keyhole, and stowed it in a pocket of his
breeches.

Charlotte felt both more secure now and more vulnerable.
A stranger, someone she’d met mere minutes ago, had just
locked her into a torture chamber. The situation should
fill her with foreboding. There was a certain measure of
that, to be sure, but mostly what she felt, God help her,
was an intoxicating thrill of arousal underscored by a
sense of rightness, a sense that she deserved whatever
this enigmatic stranger would do to her, and more.

Rejoining her, Darius nodded toward the whipping stool as
if to say, Go ahead.

She lifted the stool, which was remarkably heavy, and set
it down in the middle of the floor.

“Take your clothes off,” he said.

She turned to stare at him.

“It has long been customary,” he explained, “when
punishing females, or attempting to coax confessions from
them, to make them undress. It tends to have a...
humbling effect.”

Charlotte met his eyes for a moment, then looked down,
her gaze lighting on the French fly of his breeches,
stretched tight over a bulging erection. She felt
suddenly starved for air; her heart thudded in her ears.

Darius noticed the direction of her gaze, but seemed
unperturbed, perhaps even slightly amused. “Strip,” he
said.

Charlotte took a deep, tremulous breath, and set about
unlacing her bodice.