by Unknown
36
CHAPTER VII
TO LONDON
They sat in a second-class railway carriage, Lily outwardly prim
and slightly breathless with a very firmly laced up corset beneath her
winter clothes. She had carefully brushed the dirt from her boots and
the hem of her dress and looked perfectly respectable. Lawrence read
a newspaper, from time to time rustling it officiously and reading
snippets to his pretend "wife" in a suitably patronizing and edifying
manner. Lily's heart warmed as she spotted the wicked glint in his eye
and she felt sorry that their friendship would be a brief one. He
possessed a rare sense of humour beneath his conservative
appearance.
"Young woman found murdered in Spitalfields. That's nasty. The
details are far too gruesome to disclose to you, dear Louisa, with your
delicate disposition. Hmm, a witness spotted a hansom cab loitering
in the area late the previous night. It's suggested that the victim was –
ahem – a lady of the night."
A middle-aged woman across the carriage wrinkled her nose in
distaste and Lily feigned coy ignorance.
"A lady of the night, dearest? I don't understand."
Lawrence gave the newspaper a particularly officious shake. "And
neither you should, Louisa, my dear, neither you should. Nothing for
you to concern your pretty little head with, I'm sure." They were both
on the verge of laughing out loud but Lily remembered that the
newspaper article was very serious and she swallowed hard, suddenly
recalling her own nightmare with the American sadist. So a woman's
life was dispensable if she sold her body for money? Why, she was
little more than a "lady of the night" herself.
"Are we nearly there yet?"
"It's not far. I have to visit my solicitor at Gray's Inn at five, so I'll
let you settle into our rooms while I'm away for an hour or so, if you
don't object to that, my sweet."
Lily nodded her head in meek compliance. Her corset was so tight
that she was beginning to feel slightly faint. Lawrence's hand touched
37
her knee very briefly and her entire body thrilled with an electric
surge. She could hardly wait for them to reach their rooms and fall
into bed. Was it true about the solicitor's appointment? She hadn't
had time to inquire what Lawrence's line of business was, if he had
one at all. His house was comfortable but not grand and she hadn't
forgotten the bread and cheese supper. He hadn't eaten at all the night
before and she strongly suspected he had given her his evening meal
for all that remained in the larder that morning was the remains of the
loaf and a small pat of butter, both of which she'd felt quite guilty
about dispatching for her breakfast. If Lawrence had had reason to be
curious about her background, she suddenly realized, with a slight
shock, that she had plenty to wonder about his. Like herself, he was
outwardly very respectable, well spoken, neat and tidy.
But he could be anyone, Lily Warnock. Anyone at all.
Lily looked out of the carriage window and watched the barren
wintry fields rushing past. Soon the fields would become suburbs and
the suburbs would turn into the seething tumult she loved so well,
London town. She had missed the city life with its noise and color.
Really, the whore to housemaid transformation had not gone too well.
Henry Thorburn would laugh so hard when he heard about her
exploits! But that Colonel Hanley – what a monster to accuse her of
stealing, when all she'd done was delivered a much-deserved knee to
the groin... Lily settled back against the railway seat, closed her eyes
and daydreamed about her return to a life of "easy, fancy ways".
* * * *
The rooms were in Clerkenwell, in a tall terraced Georgian house
on Sekforde Street. There was a neatly furnished sitting room and an
adjoining bedroom with a brass framed bed. Lily reclined on the big
comfortable bed and stretched luxuriantly.
"This is the life, Lawrence! I could get used to this. Must you
really go to your meeting?"
Lawrence stood nearby and Lily was gratified to note the swelling
in his crotch. He wanted her as much as she desired him, thank
heavens. She stroked the bedcovers and he glanced at his pocket
watch.
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"Damn it, Lily, you temptress. I can't have you now, alas. But
soon, I promise. Very soon." He took some money from his waistcoat
pocket and laid it on the night stand. "Buy something good for supper
and a bottle of wine, my dear. We'll stay in this evening and make our
own entertainment."
"Oh, all right. Please try not to be too long." Lily glanced pointedly
at her lover's crotch and he stuck out his tongue at her in a most
lascivious manner. Really, their friendship was taking a fascinating
direction. Lawrence Faulkner was full of surprises.
When he had gone, Lily looked around the room. The bed would
be wonderful for a game of erotic bondage, with plenty of
conveniently placed brass loops to tie her wrists to. She felt so
aroused she could scream. She wanted Lawrence to do everything to
her that she'd ever experienced, which was a broad repertoire of
sensual pursuits. She had best get that little shopping expedition out
of the way. Hmm, Clerkenwell. Not one of her haunts but she knew
the area well enough. She shouldn't get lost in the maze of teeming
streets. Lily picked up the money and tucked it into an inner coat
pocket, wary of the city's ever-present thieves. The letter rustled
gently as she did so.
Bloomsbury. That's not so very far away.
Lily counted the coins Lawrence had given her. She had just
enough to take a cab to Russell Square, where Lord Thorburn's
elegant town house was located. She could get there if she was quick
and request an audience with Lord Thorburn. There needn't be any
embarrassment as he was a widower, with no inquisitive wife to ask
probing questions. Lily made up her mind. She could be there and
back in a flash and if she was delayed, surely Lawrence would
understand. She looked around for paper and pen to leave him a note
but, alas, neither had been provided. She tore open the envelope of
Lord Thorburn's letter, took out the contents and laid the empty
envelope on the bed, address side up. She hoped Lawrence would
make the connection if he returned before she did.
Out on the street, Lily looked around for a hansom cab. None were
visible. She would have to walk to the nearest busy thoroughfare, St
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John's Street. She walked briskly, her mind already fixed upon the
meeting with Lord Thorburn. She hoped he would not be annoyed
with her. Clerkenwell was a busy area, a warren of narrow, crooked
streets concealing hundreds of little workshops. In the workshops,
artisans toiled away like bees in a vast hive. Clocks and pocket
watches were made there, scientific instruments and fine jewelry.
There were bookbinders and printers too, announced by the pungent
odors of tanning hide and ink. On St Joh
n's Street, Lily spotted an
empty cab waiting by the kerb and she called up to the driver.
"To Russell Square, please, as quickly as you can."
Off they drove at an uneven pace, hindered by the endless
procession of merchants' carts and the occasional horse-drawn
omnibus. Turning right onto Clerkenwell Road, the scene became
even busier. Lily bit her lip as she looked out of the cab window at
the seething crowds. What if Lord Thorburn was not at home? What
if he was embarrassed by her visit? Well, it was too late to change her
mind. The hansom cab drove past Gray's Inn Gardens and Lily
realized that Lawrence was not far away. Then the area changed and
they entered an enclave of grander homes. Stately households with
imperious butlers and sneering footmen to guard the doors. What if
they wouldn't let her see Lord Thorburn? Well, she had to try.
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CHAPTER VIII
AT RUSSELL SQUARE
"Here you are, miss. Number eleven, Russell Square."
Lily stepped down from the cab and paid the driver. She had less
change left from the money that Lawrence had given her than she had
hoped, but that couldn't be helped. The horses clopped away over the
cobbles and she gazed up at the tall imposing house. She had to be
brave. She had to walk up the steps, take the large lion's head knocker
in her hand and make her presence known. It seemed like a daunting
task in reality, though so simple in her daydreams of the past few
days. As she stared up at the elegant façade of the house she realized
that the windows were all shuttered.
Oh no. Is Lord Thorburn abroad and his town house closed up?
Trembling, Lily walked slowly up the broad flight of steps. She
had been too sure of her clever plan. She lifted the brass door-
knocker and let it fall, almost hoping that no one would answer. She
was about to turn away when footsteps approached and the door
opened to reveal an elderly manservant. Lily swallowed hard. She
had to say something.
"Is Lord Thorburn at home?"
The man frowned.
"I'm afraid Lord Thorburn passed away last week. The funeral took
place on Friday."
Lily clasped the cold stone of the balustrade, suddenly dizzy.
Everything seemed unreal, distorted, as if she was swimming under
water. When she found her voice, her words sounded as colorless and
brittle as the dead leaves lying in the gutter.
"Passed away?"
The old man nodded. "It was very sudden. Heart, you know. I'm
sorry, miss."
Lily turned away, hot tears prickling in her eyes. The door closed
and she stood looking down at the grandeur of Russell Square.
Now what, Lily Warnock? Lawrence Faulkner or back to the
game?
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"Poor Henry." She whispered the words to the cold December wind
and, heavy with grief, started her walk back to Clerkenwell. What
time was it? The afternoon was growing dim, a hint of fog in the
atmosphere. She knew her way, more or less. The clock on a nearby
church tower read almost five o' clock. No wonder it was getting
dark. Behind Lily, in Russell Square, the wheels of a hansom cab
rolled over the damp cobbles. She turned her head to look as it slowly
moved forwards, not knowing why the sound sent a vague shiver
down her spine. The driver's face was concealed by a deeply recessed
hood, his heavily caped body hunched over the reins. Lily quickened
her pace and marched down Southampton Row towards busy
Clerkenwell Road. The cab followed at some distance, the horses
walking at a sedate pace.
He can't be following me. I'm imagining things.
Night was cloaking the city. Gas lamps issued their yellow glow in
regularly spaced pools, the murky darkness pressing all around as if to
extinguish their meager light. The fog crept up from the Thames as a
chilling miasma, insinuating tendrils around the lamp posts like
spectral fingers. Lily was almost running as she reached the
comforting hubbub of Clerkenwell Road. Behind her, the hansom cab
was snarled up in the street's traffic. She dodged through the crowd
on the pavement, a nameless fear clutching at her heart.
42
CHAPTER IX
MR. FAULKNER'S PLEASURE
"You believe you were followed, Lily?"
Lawrence was kind but slightly skeptical. He returned at six from
his appointment to find Lily huddled in a wing chair before a blazing
fire. She had bolted the door to their rooms and would not admit him
until she was certain it was he. Lily reached out her hands to warm
them at the fire.
"I don't know, Lawrence. I had a bad feeling. That's all."
She had told him about her impromptu trip to Russell Square and
the recent demise of her friend and he nodded his head in compassion.
"Perhaps it's time to give you some good feelings. Actually, what
you really deserve is a first rate strapping for disobeying my orders
and dashing off to Bloomsbury, spending a large portion of our supper
funds on the cab fare."
Lily looked sheepish.
"I had hoped to be able to repay you."
Lawrence shrugged and opened a bottle of burgundy.
"You will repay me. With interest. I had hoped for a roast chicken
rather than meat pies but beggars can't be choosers and the wine
makes up for the food."
"Henry taught me a few things about choosing wine." Lily's voice
trailed away as she recalled Lord Thorburn. He really had been a
good friend. She would miss him deeply. They ate the pies and drank
the deep red wine. It made her feel better, warmer inside and more at
ease. When they had finished eating, Lawrence picked up the half-
empty bottle and took Lily's hand.
"And now to bed, my girl. I've been thinking about this all day."
"So have I!"
They laughed. Lawrence made Lily close her eyes and he guided
her into the bedroom.
"Are you really going to strap me for disobeying?"
"Yes, Lily, I am. But first you're going to suck me like you did last
night. Keep your eyes tightly closed and get down on your knees."
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Trembling with desire, Lily did as she was bade, unbuttoning
Lawrence's trouser fly. His shaft was already swollen hard and she
put out the tip of her tongue to lick it, like a butterfly tasting sugar.
"Suck it. The entire length."
Lily relaxed and adeptly drew Lawrence's cock deep into her
velvety moistness, still caressing its silky underside with the flat of
her tongue. The head of his shaft pressed insistently at the back of her
throat and she opened more, yielding to the pressure, accepting inch
after inch of rigid shaft.
"Quite the little sword swallower, aren't you, my dear? Can you
match this performance, Rosina?"
Lily jumped. There was someone else in the bedroom.
"Keep sucking, Lily but open your eyes and look at your playmate."
Lawrence placed his hands on either side of Lily's head and made
her continue sucking his cock. Her eyes swiveled to take in a pretty
young girl of around her
own age. The girl crouched on all fours on
the bed like a dog, her mass of curly brown hair cascading over her
naked shoulders. She wore nothing but a corset, the stays laced
extremely tightly. She watched what Lily was doing very intently, as
if inwardly taking notes.
"Lily is an expert, Rosina. She's a whore."
Lily looked at Rosina. The young girl's cheeks were flushed,
probably with the constrictive effect of the stringent corseting. Her
waist was tiny, the kind that a man's hands could span. Her breasts
and hips were round and full, her nipples large and swollen.
Lawrence began to take the pins out of Lily's hair.
"That feels wonderful, my dear. Now you will undress for us,
down to your corset." He wetted his lips as he said "corset" and Lily
realized that he had a fetish for tight-lacing. She stood up then began
to perform a slow, theatrical unbuttoning of her dress. Lawrence
stood by the bed, one hand on the young girl's back, delicately tracing
the straining cords of the girl's corset. Lily knew that when Rosina
took it off, there would be a deep pattern of criss-cross marks on her
soft skin.
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"What a lovely body she has!" Rosina spoke at last, with a London
accent. Her full mouth pouted voluptuously and Lily looked at the
young girl's full, lush breasts. There was much pleasure to be had
there if Lawrence would allow it. She allowed her dress to fall slowly
and seductively to the carpet, then teasingly covered her own breasts
with her hands. It wasn't the first time she'd played with both a man
and a girl and she relished the opportunity to enjoy everything that
nature had to offer.
"Lily has earned a strapping, Rosina."
The young girl opened her hazel eyes very wide in mock dismay.
Her nipples seemed to harden even more and she arched her spine
beneath Lawrence's hand. His fingers continued to stroke the corset
cords that seemed pulled to near breaking point.
"And you are going to deliver it. But first we must do something
about her stays. She thinks she's tightly laced, poor dear."
Lily gasped. She was already laced as tightly as she'd ever been;
