Submitting to His Lordship (14 page)

Satisfied that he had her sufficiently aroused, he stepped back and unfurled the tails. He whipped them against the side of her breast, careful to avoid the nipple. She cried out, mostly in surprise. He lashed again at the breast. The mound of flesh quivered at the impact. She sucked at the air. This time he knew it stung a little. He slapped the tails against her inner thigh. Her leg wanted to recoil but was held in place by the bindings. He slapped her there again, and she gasped at how close he had come to striking her cunnie.

“Please,” she murmured.

“Use your safety word if you must, but you will have to endure a lot more if you wish to enter the East Wing, m’dear.”

At that she closed her mouth and awaited his next move. He applied the tails to her other breast until the skin blushed with indignation. She cried out each time but did not invoke the name of Rati. The moisture at her cunnie increased.

He applied the flogger lightly to her ribs, then let the tails fall once upon her cunnie. She would have leapt off the bed if she had not been held down by the bindings. He rubbed her between her legs.

“Do you think you have learned your lesson, Miss Herwood?”

“Hmph?” she responded through a haze of arousal and vexation.

“What have we learned, Miss Herwood?”

“To heed your orders.”

“Swiftly and keenly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He wanted to inform her that she would only take pleasure from him, that she belonged to him. She was his alone to command and gratify and protect. But these were dangerous feelings to have. Voicing them might render them less fleeting.

“And if you please me, you may find yourself rewarded.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He stroked her cunnie with his thumb. Her body, already near the height, did not require long to go over the precipice. As she spent, she bucked off the bed and writhed violently against the ropes. He did not wait for her to completely descend from her climax and dove once more between her legs.

Confused, she knew not whether she wanted the continued attention. He suspected her cunnie to be exceedingly sensitive. It pulsed hot and wet beneath his mouth. She attempted to move away from him, but he grasped her hips and held her in place. He did not relent and soon had her riding a second wave of ecstasy. Screaming, she succumbed to the stimulation with such forceful spasms that she struck him in the chin. He rubbed her gently until the last of her shivers subsided and she let out a deep sigh. For a while he gazed at her as she recovered herself, drinking in the sight of her stretched across the bed, her breasts still bearing the markings of the flogger, her body flush from the experience.

By Jove, he wanted to fuck her
.

Chapter Eleven

AFTER UNTYING HER AND rubbing a pomade upon the places where the nine-tail had landeed, he pulled the covers over Miss Herwood as sleep overtook her. He gathered his coat and stepped softly to the door. He turned at the threshold to look at her in peaceful slumber, her hair spread over the pillows, one bare arm curled above her head. If he did not leave soon, he might be tempted to wake her to relieve the bulge at his crotch. Forcing himself through the door, he tried not to recall how she had looked stretched to the bedposts in glorious nakedness, her sweet cunnie open to him like a blossom to the sun.

When he had first invited her to Chateau Follet, he had mostly selfish reasons. He wanted another taste of her body. He wanted to satiate his own lust. But ever since her acceptance, her pleasure had become the dominant priority. He derived much enjoyment from seeing her spend and surprised himself that he had not yet ravished her for his own sake.

And now another woman took him from attending to his own needs.

He made his way back to the East Wing and headed straight for the ballroom in search of Isabella. The ballroom was the focus of activity for the East Wing. Hearty flames crackled from all four fireplaces and provided much of the light desired by the hostess. The chandeliers above were kept dim, allowing for pockets of darkness throughout the room. Lush sofas lined the walls beneath erotic paintings and golden candelabras. The center of the room, however, looked more like a medieval dungeon with body racks, wooden pommels, an iron cage, and other furnishings of torture.

Isabella sat upon one of the sofas beside Lord Devon. She had partaken of more wine in the meantime as evidenced by her shining eyes, flush cheeks and constant giggling. Her partner, too, was happily inebriated and attempting to devour her neck. He had her legs across his thighs.

“Lord Rockwell!” Isabella exclaimed as she tried to right herself without spilling the wine from the glass she held.

Devon sat up and tried to focus his gaze on Halsten in the darkness. “Rockwell? Where is thy ladybird?”

“Resting,” Halsten replied, grimly staring at Devon. “One should not extend the abilities of a novice at Chateau Follet.”

“Is Miss Sherwood the ninny or
you
?” Isabella teased.

“Come, have a drink with us,” Devon invited. “Perhaps a good burgundy will provide you the necessary nerve.”

Biting his tongue, Halsten pulled up a chair as Devon motioned to one of the serving maids. A young naked waif approached them with a bottle and glasses. She kept her gaze demurely at the floor as she offered Halsten a glass. Devon ogled the maid as she poured more wine into his glass.

“Lovely is she not?” Devon purred into Isabella’s ear.

Isabella giggled. “They must get very cold in the winter.”

“Winter is delightful. Their nipples are constantly erect.”

He pretended to pinch one of hers. Isabella swatted at his hand and laughed. She seemed to notice the serious look Halsten gave her and stopped

Devon followed her gaze. “Why so sullen, my good fellow? I urge you, bring that Miss Sherwood of yours here. You’ll be a happier man.”

Halsten forced his mouth from a frown even as he retorted silently that he would not bring Miss Herwood within an arm’s length of Devon.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “I am content to observe.”

“I’ve no qualms with that.” He raised a glass at Halsten.

Isabella struck Devon playfully across the chest. “Surely you jest!”

“Has Lord Devon not shared with you his fancy for exhibitionism?” Halsten asked of her.

Her eyebrows rose at Lord Devon.

“I assure you, it is quite thrilling,” Devon told her.

Hers was a nervous smile.

“To Chateau Follet and its many thrills,” Halsten said raising his glass.

“Here, here,” Devon replied, downing his glass of wine.

Halsten, who had taken the bottle from the serving maid, refilled Devon’s glass.

A bell chimed, drawing their attention to a clearing in the center of the ballroom. A woman lay naked upon a long table. Her dominant, wearing only a pair of breeches, announced, “It pleases me to share my submissive with the honored guests of Madame Follet.”

“No!” Isabella cried out in wonder, covering her ruby red lips with her slender hand.

“Oh, yes,” Devon growled beneath his breath as he imbibed more wine.

The dominant spread the woman’s legs open as curious and willing guests approached the couple. A woman with silver in her hair knelt at the submissive’s cunnie.

“I can’t look!” Isabella giggled and hid her face in Devon’s chest.

The older woman licked the submissive. Having stolen a peek, Isabella shrieked.

“The odor there is less than desirable, but I do love watching a woman at another woman’s twat,” Lord Devon commented.

Isabella seemed to vacillate between fastidiousness and curiosity, heedlessly sipping at her wine as she gazed upon the center of the ballroom.

She shook her head. “I could never—”

For a moment Halsten wondered if Miss Herwood could ever be at ease or titillated by the touch of another woman. The image of Miss Herwood spread upon the table before another woman made the blood at his groin churn.

The submissive began moaning and writhing upon the table.

“A sight to behold, eh?” Halsten directed at Devon.

Devon pulled at his cravat. “Indeed.”

“How can she...enjoy that?” Isabella asked.

“This is quite tame compared to what my lord has witnessed with previous guests of his,” Halsten said. “Have you not had as many as three women at once, Devon?”

The effects of the wine upon him, Devon hesitated, but conscious of Isabella’s gaze upon him, he waved a dismissive hand. “That be the past. My lady Isabella is certainly worth at least three of her sex.”

Isabella smiled while Halsten frowned.

“I must say your company quite surprises me, Halsten,” she said. “Miss Sherwood does not appear of equal quality. I would have thought you capable of better.”

“She suits my purposes and is far more engaging than meets the eye.”

“You could have commanded the attentions of a greater beauty.”

Her remark surprised him. He supposed Miss Herwood did not possess the classic marks of beauty, but while he might have found her plain upon first glance, through observation and better acquaintance, he now found her exceedingly attractive.

“She has not your blessings, Isabella,” he remarked with irony and held up his glass to her.

She beamed.

“To beautiful women,” Lord Devon toasted.

They finished off their wine. Halsten motioned to the serving maid for another bottle.

They watched as others took their turn with the submissive. One man fondled her breasts while another woman locked lips with her. While pretending to be engaged in the exhibition, Halsten kept a steady eye upon Devon and Isabella. He ensured Devon’s glass never became empty. The wine made Devon more libidinous but also impaired his motions. Of a thin build, Isabella could not withstand the effects of the alcohol for long and began to fall into a stupor.

“I need to visit the privy,” Isabella grumbled.

“Allow me,” Halsten, already upon his feet, told Devon.

Devon waved his hand, his glassy-eyed gaze fixed across the room on two women engaged in a strenuous kiss.

Isabella stared at Halsten’s outstretched hand. When she made no further movement, he hoisted her to her feet by her waist. As he assisted her from the room, he motioned to one of the servants.

“Have her ladyship’s maid sent to her chamber,” he instructed.

Isabella’s arm slipped from around his shoulder and she sank to the floor.

“This floor is not accommodating,” she murmured.

After she struggled to stand, he decided it was simpler to carry her. As she was light, he made it to her chamber with little difficulty. Once inside, he set her down upon the bed.

“Ohhh, I don’t feel right...” she grimaced and put a hand to her mouth.

He quickly retrieved the wash basin and held it before her just as she retched and spilled the contents of her stomach. Mortified, she covered her mouth once more.

“Let’s have all of it,” he instructed her.

Again she heaved. She gagged but only bile remained. He handed her his handkerchief. With a groan, she lay back. He set aside the wash basin.

Spotting the maid, he instructed the servant, “That will need cleaning, but first see her ladyship to bed. She is
not
to leave her chamber tonight.”

The maid nodded. With a last glance at the groaning Isabella, he shook his head and left the room.

Damnation
. Isabella was worse than Lucille. God help Lucille, if he ever discovered that his sister had behaved as recklessly, he would lock her in a dungeon till she was thirty.

Isabella, however, was not his sister. Miss Herwood had accused him of assuming roles that were not his. Minding Isabella had certainly cut into his enjoyment of Miss Herwood’s company. Were it not for Isabella, he would have been in bed with Miss Herwood. He imagined his body entwined with hers. He wondered if she was awake.

He decided to see for himself if she was. Back at the threshold to Miss Herwood’s chambers, he quietly opened the door. The last flickers of the flames in the fireplace provided a sufficient glow for him to see. Miss Herwood lay serenely asleep in her bed beneath the plush covers. He ought not disturb her peaceful slumber, but his cock had reared its head at the sight of her. Recalling how she had felt in his arms, how soft her skin had felt beneath his hands, he could not move himself to leave.

As if sensing his presence, she stirred. Her eyes opened half-way. A smile flitted across her lips. She stretched and opened her eyes more.

“Back for more, your lordship?” she inquired.

There was no leaving now. He had denied his need long enough. He began to untie his cravat. She sat up against the pillows and watched as he placed the linen at the foot of the bed and shrugged out of his coat. He unbuttoned and shed his waistcoat next. He walked over to the side of the bed and threw the covers off of her. Instinctively, she covered herself with her arms and hands. He could see the bites of the nine-tail upon her breasts and legs.