Mastering the Marquess (Bound and Determined)

by Lavinia Kent

  “Yes, that’s better. If I don’t get a response one way I will get it another. You should learn to cooperate.” Another slap. “Look how prettily you redden. It gives me so many ideas.”

  “Tell me, why are you doing this? What have I ever done to you?”

  The Countess moved so that Louisa could see her deep red skirts. Craning her head up, Louisa stared into the cold face.

  “Say please. ‘Please, my dear Countess.’ ”

  What did the woman want? Did she take pleasure in this humiliation? Yes, she did.

  Walking over to the wall, the Countess picked up a heavy crop. “Do I have to ask you again? You will say it. It is up to you how it happens.”

  “Please, my dear Countess.” Louisa wanted to choke on the words, “Tell me why you are doing this.”

  “First, because I can and because I enjoy it. There is nothing like having another woman submit to my command. And second, because your husband, my sweet Geoffrey, made it a necessity. I might not have selected you if he had given me any choice in the matter.”

  “Forgive me, my dear Countess, but I do not understand.”

  The Countess raised the crop and smacked it against her palm, the crack echoing in the small room. “It is not often that God makes a woman intelligent and beautiful. You should be thankful for the favors he granted you.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “That does sound sweet from your soft lips.” The Countess walked back and rested her palm upon Louisa’s cheek, before running her fingers over her lips. “But do remember, address me as ‘Countess,’ or ‘my dear Countess.’ For anything else you will be punished.” She pulled back slightly and held out her hand. Louisa could see the growing welt that ran across the Countess’s palm. “I have always found joy in pain, whether giving or receiving. It is so freeing, so cleansing. Now kiss my palm better—and use your tongue.”

  Could she actually do this? Louisa was not sure. Everything in her rebelled at such an action, but what were the options? With dry lips, she laid the lightest of kisses upon the palm. The hand held there, inches from her face.

  Louisa could not bring herself to lick it.

  It held there for another moment, and then the Countess swirled, walking over to one of the high dressers, placing the crop on it, and pulling out a drawer. “I have whipped asses raw for less insult. And do not fear: Yours will bleed before the night is over. I would do it now, but I want to preserve that virgin skin for a while longer.”

  “You still have not fully explained why I am here?” Louisa asked, trying again to distract the Countess. She did not know what was in that drawer, and she had no desire to find out.

  The Countess turned back, but did not answer. Something dangled from her hand—Louisa could not determine what—as she stood still, waiting.

  “Please, my dear Countess.”

  “So much better. And I will indulge you, for you will not be speaking in a moment.” The Countess moved her hand, and a ball on a cord swung back and forth. “Geoffrey spurned me without cause, and he must pay. You are the currency of that payment. The foolish man did not understand the bond we shared. He did not understand all that I offered him.”

  “I am sorry, my dear Countess.” Louisa could not take her eyes off the swinging ball. It looked like a child’s toy. And was that a large ring on a cord beside it? Louisa’s imagination was not up to the task of understanding what they were for.

  The Countess smiled. “I begin to understand why Geoffrey is besotted with you. You learn quickly. I do hope he has taught you that once earned, punishments must always be given.” She swung the ball again. “Yes, Geoffrey did not understand that we are meant to be together, and so I must teach him. I may let you join in, too; there is attraction in such an arrangement. From the first time your husband set his crop to my ass, I knew he was the one. But then he left, and all because I chose the wrong plaything. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain. He refused me, and that must not be allowed. Punishment must come to those who misbehave so that they can learn for the next time.

  “Now tell me, do you prefer a ball gag or a ring? I normally like a ball, but I have some interest in working a dildo between those lips while I wait. I wonder just how deep that throat can open. Has Geoffrey—oh, I see from your face that he has; and yet, you still do not understand me. Has he never taken out his toys for you? Would you like me to show you what I mean?” The Countess turned as if to walk back to the chest of drawers. “But no, I promised you a punishment, and I should not delay too long.”

  Louisa closed her eyes and prayed for salvation. She knew there was no hope of rescue—nobody knew where she was going—but still she silently prayed, Please come find me, Geoffrey. Please do not let this happen.

  “I think the ball gag after all. I can always change it later if the play goes that way.” The Countess grabbed a handful of Louisa’s hair, wrenching her head back violently. Fingers jabbed into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open, and then the ball was there, forced back between her teeth, choking her, no longer in any way a child’s toy, the strap pulled tight behind her head.

  “How pretty you look.” The Countess smiled again and patted her cheek. “I do hope you realize that is not your punishment.” She opened her hand and held out two clips with sharp-toothed edges. “They are pretty, and they will adorn your breasts so nicely. I shouldn’t really call them a punishment—later you will know them for a treat—but for the moment I think they shall be quite effective. Oh, and tears already. Geoffrey always liked tears, and I must admit to having developed quite a taste for them. And those wide, expressive eyes. I do so love that glint of fear and terror. If your tongue were free I might allow you to lick my cunt—it is quite brimming for you. Have you ever licked another woman’s honey? It can be a little off-putting at first, but I promise you will come to enjoy it.”

  Moving to Louisa’s side, the Countess reached down and grasped one of her breasts, her fingers settling about the nipple. “And you haven’t even asked the big question, asked why we are waiting and who I am dressing you up for. Your husband is coming. Yes, I have invited sweet Geoffrey, and I am sure he will be here soon. Oh, I do see that that delights you. Now, let’s get you all ready.”

  Louisa screamed against the gag as the clamp bit into her.

  Chapter Thirty

  She was nowhere to be found. Surely even if she had left him there would have been some trace, some note. He might not know his wife as well as he would have liked, but Swanston was sure that she would never wish to cause such worry. Even in the greatest of furies she would have let him know that she was gone, and probably where to.

  He’d tried everyone and every place he could think of. He’d had all the coach yards checked and even now had riders heading out to Brookingston’s home to see if she could have returned there. He’d probably send a man to Risusgate as well.

  At present, however, it still appeared that she had vanished into the air. He paced across his library for the hundredth time that evening, wishing for some answer to his prayers.

  “She will be found,” Duldon said from his seat by the empty hearth. “Ladies do not simply disappear.”

  “Not that we know of, but if they just disappeared would we know …”

  “Now you are just being dismal. It is bound to be some simple explanation, as it was with your sister. Perhaps she left a note and it got misplaced, or perhaps she simply forgot.”

  “Louisa does not forget. It is one of the things that I am most fond of about her. She is almost as well ordered as I. If she meant to leave me a note she would have, and she would have left it someplace it would be found.”

  Duldon rolled his eyes with great emphasis. “No wonder you like the woman. I thought it might have something to do with a lovely face and sweet nature, but you probably appreciate how she folds her kerchiefs and that she always has breakfast at the same hour.”

  “No, we’ve been rising late recently,” Swanston said, adding his own brand of empha
sis to the words. He tried to smile, but knew it fell flat; hiding the worry that ate at his guts was impossible.

  There was a loud rap on the door.

  “Enter,” he called.

  The porter entered, carrying a silver tray on which lay a stiff white envelope. “A lad just dropped this at the door, said it was from a lady.”

  Without bothering with an answer, Swanston grabbed the envelope and ripped it open.

  “Well?” Duldon stood and walked over. “Is your wife dining with friends?”

  Swanston dropped the note to his desk. “I would not say that. It’s from the Countess. She is inviting me to a private party.”

  Duldon stalked to the window. “Ignore it then. It is not the time to even consider what to do about that woman.”

  “I am afraid I was not clear. The Countess is inviting me to a party with my wife as the guest of honor. She promises I will find it most illuminating.”

  “Then let’s be off.”

  “She instructs me to come alone. Makes it very clear that it is an exclusive party and that if I bring guests she will change the location.”

  Duldon slammed a fist down on the table. “She does not have that type of power and influence.”

  “You are right, she does not. However, she is a smart woman and knows I cannot take the chance. And besides, if I involve others I risk exposure not only for myself, but for Louisa. A man can survive almost any scandal, but a woman …”

  “Blast.” Another fist slam. “You do have me, however; perhaps she will not expect that,” Duldon stated with some heat.

  “Yes.” Swanston strode to the door, calling for his hat and stick. “Perhaps we will bring her a surprise present.”

  Her every muscle ached. Louisa slumped against the hard wood bars. How long had she been bound in this manner? Her fingers and toes were numb and screaming with pins at the same time. Even the effort of holding up her head was a strain. Dried drool marked her cheeks. At least the Countess had not left the clamps on. One had to be thankful for even small mercies.

  The door clicked behind her.

  The tap of heels crossed the floor.

  Her tired muscles clenched. The Countess was back.

  Had it been hours since the woman left for the last time, saying that patience was an important lesson? It might have been only minutes. Louisa was no longer sure of anything except that she hurt—and she was tired—and she wanted to be home—home in her own bed watching Geoffrey smile in his sleep. All her thoughts fogged together, but that was the one she held firm to.

  “Your husband is playing games of his own. He should have been here half an hour ago.” The Countess did not sound pleased. Her feet tapped a steady rhythm as she moved to the dresser—“the dresser of horror,” as Louisa had begun to call it in her mind. She still hadn’t seen much of what it contained, but not knowing only made it worse.

  How could a gag be so painful? She’d felt relief when she’d first realized the gags were the only thing the Countess had taken from the drawer; but now, with her cheeks sore and her teeth aching deep at the roots, she was beginning to wonder.

  “And how are you doing, my dear?” The Countess turned back to her, the crop once again in her hand. “I had not meant to leave you for quite so long.” She walked over and ran the end of the crop over the corset and down Louisa’s flanks. “I wouldn’t want you too tired before we even begin, and I do know being restrained can be surprisingly wearing.” The crop continued its journey, moving down the outer edge of Louisa’s right leg. “Do you feel the stretch here?” She tapped a thigh. “And here.” She tapped a calf. “Perhaps we should find some way to distract you while we wait.”

  With sudden force the crop rose up between Louisa’s legs, striking hard against her inner thigh. It was not as powerful a blow as some of the early slaps, but the flesh it connected with was much more tender. Louisa could feel the tears begin to wet her cheeks again.

  She knew they were her own, but she didn’t quite connect herself with them. She was still lying in bed smiling at Geoffrey. She was not here; none of this was really happening.

  It hurt. It hurt so much. Geoffrey began to fade from her mind.

  Louisa struggled to see that smile, to focus on the fragility of his closed eyelids.

  “You seem a little inattentive. And I always like knowing that I am the focus of all attention—what woman doesn’t?” The Countess tapped the crop along her thigh and back, each tap a promise of what could be, and then walked to stand in front of Louisa.

  Louisa closed her eyes, refusing to stare at the Countess’s tightly laced bodice, at the heavy breasts straining for release.

  “Oh, you want to play, do you? To see just what I’ll do?” Suddenly the straps holding the ball in place were grabbed and pulled even tighter.

  Louisa choked, feeling her air cut off, feeling as if her jaw would separate from her head.

  “You should always remember that it can be worse—or better.” The ties were released, and although the ball only returned to the same position as it had been a moment ago, it felt wonderful. The Countess’s hands came up to rest upon Louisa’s cheeks, massaging the sore muscles.

  Louisa hated the touch, hated the gentleness—but, oh, it felt so good. She was afraid she might have purred, if her lips had been able.

  “See, I can be kind. I want us both to enjoy this.” The Countess moved closer, until the fabric covering her breasts brushed against Louisa’s nose.

  The scent of heavy musk and jasmine filled Louisa’s nostrils. It was overpowering. She’d always thought of jasmine as a delicate flower, but now it felt as if the blossom-covered vines were growing up her face, seeking entrance to her very brain.

  “Open your eyes and look at me,” the Countess commanded. “I will make you do it if you do not choose to. Do you doubt that I am able? Is this another test?”

  Louisa opened her eyes and stared at the deep red satin. In the dim light it appeared almost black. She did not try to look up at the Countess’s face.

  “That’s better. Perhaps I should reward you. I know it’s a little early in our relationship, but I can sense you might need encouragement.” The Countess turned back to the dresser.

  Please no. Louisa kept the plea to herself. She didn’t know why her fear of the dresser was growing so out of proportion. She felt like a child staring at a nighttime closet, knowing that the things she was imagining were far worse than the reality but unable to contain the fear that rose within her. And in this case, she wasn’t actually sure that her imagination was worse.

  The Countess turned back, holding out her hand. Two black enamel balls lay within it. They looked remarkably like the set of balls that Geoffrey twisted between his fingers when he was bored. Each ball was smaller than a hen’s egg. There was nothing terrifying about them, and yet Louisa felt the burn in her belly grow. Nothing in this chamber was as it appeared—everything was worse.

  “I am sure you’ve seen these before. But has he ever used them on you? It is most delicious. He once put them in me and then I danced all night. I must have orgasmed three times during a single waltz, and the whole time I thought of him and what would happen later. Your husband did not disappoint.”

  Were the Countess’s words or the fear worse? It was hard to tell. Both tortured her far more than any of the physical pain that had yet occurred.

  “I can’t wait to watch him fuck you. There is something about watching a man slam into another woman that always gets me: the slap of flesh against flesh, the shine of fluids, and that smell—is there anything like the smell of sex, lots of sex? My nipples are tight just thinking about it.” The Countess moved behind Louisa once again. Rolled the cool balls over her buttocks. “You have such a pretty ass. You have no idea what an ordeal it has been for me not to place my mark upon it. This whole afternoon has been such an ordeal.”

  An ordeal for the Countess? Louisa would have liked to shove the gag between her lips.

  “You’re still so dry
. I may have to do something about that. Jack does have an amazingly talented tongue. I know you would not think it to look at the lout, but … And I can just imagine Geoffrey’s face if he came in and found another man eating at your pussy.”

  The Countess had been right: It could get worse.

  “Hmmm, but perhaps that might move things ahead at rather too fast a pace.” The Countess continued to move the balls across Louisa’s lower back. “I don’t want Geoffrey to get that out of control, for all I am looking forward to the experience. I’ve never seen him pushed to the limit, and I do so want to.”

  There was some relief that Jack was not going to be entering the room imminently. The Countess had been threatening his presence all evening, and in many ways—though Louisa wasn’t even sure he was still in that outer room—it was what she feared the most, even more than the dresser of horror.

  She’d never known how bad it was not to know things: How long had she been here? What was in the dresser? Was Jack still here?

  Shifting from foot to foot to the extent she was able, she tried to loosen the strain, which was rapidly turning her limbs into knots.

  “Getting impatient, are you?” The Countess rolled the balls with some force. “You want me to place them inside you? They won’t feel like much while you’re still, but once the crop starts to fall they’ll dance like a flight of butterflies—and oh, the thanks you’ll give me.”

  Louisa tried to murmur, “No.” But the gag allowed only a muffled peep.

  The Countess rolled the balls down between Louisa’s buttocks, and despite the time they’d spent against her skin they still felt cold. “Perhaps I should oil them first? I’ve a nice oil that smells of cinnamon. It has the most delightful faint burn, really wakens things up. I’ve some with a stronger pepper bite, but perhaps we’ll save that; it’s so much more effective once the skin is broken. You’ll be quite amazed how red and puffy your nipples can become, like the ripest of berries—and just as tasty. I can suck them while Geoffrey watches. That will make us all happy.” She sounded like she really believed that.