The Lady (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 14)

by Golden Angel

  “Come pet,” he said, pointing her to the table where they’d sat last night. “Time to break our fast.”

  Just as before, he fed her from his hand while she sat beside him. She was more fidgety than she had been the prior night, thanks to the plug in her arse. It would keep her from sitting comfortably for a while. Eventually, she would become accustomed to it. That and much larger things. His apparently insatiable cock twitched.

  While she was clearly uncomfortable, she did not balk. Not about being hand-fed, not when he parted her hair into two separate tails and put a ribbon in each of them, just over shoulders, and not when he put a leather collar around her throat. No, she did not balk until he attached a leash to the ring on the collar and began to walk to the door.

  “Wait!”

  Surprised by her outburst, when she’d been so submissively acquiescent, Henry turned and raised his eyebrow in question. Her face was beet red, hands holding onto the leash just in front of her collar, leaning back and digging in her heels, a wild look in her eyes.

  “I... where are my clothes? I cannot... I cannot...”

  Too much.

  He’d pushed too far, too fast in his eagerness.

  As sweetly accepting as she’d been, she was still going to require gentle handling, especially when it came to leaving the room, apparently. She clearly was ready to be bare in front of him, but nowhere else.

  “Very well,” he said, thoughtfully, rather than making her ask. He did not want to set the precedent that she would get anything she asked for. She would receive whatever he was willing to give her. Today, at least, that would include clothing. It would help prepare her for when he wanted her to walk by his side, wearing nothing but her collar and tail, a living embodiment of his power over her. Leading her over to his wardrobe, he pulled out one of his shirts. “You may wear this today.”

  Handing to her, he saw a flash in her eyes and for a brief moment, wondered if she was going to challenge him and earn herself another two punishments—one for disobedience and one for delaying him further—but she meekly lowered her eyes and put on the shirt. She would take some careful watching. While Henry intended to push her, he did not want to push her too far unless it was deliberate. She had already demonstrated she would toe the line to test her boundaries—not unexpected under the circumstances.

  But no matter how long it took, Henry was determined to tame the lady and make her into his pet in truth.

  8

  The Lady

  To Delilah’s relief, the shirt she’d been given covered more of her than she initially thought it would. Not nearly enough of her, but given the choice between revealing her legs and revealing everything, she preferred just her legs. Henry was tall enough, his shirt reached down nearly to her knees.

  Of course, that was her one and only relief.

  It certainly did not make up for the uncomfortable full feeling in her backside, the lack of proper undergarments, or being led about on a leash like an animal. The collar was a thin strip of leather that snugly wrapped around her neck. In many ways, it was no different from necklaces she had worn in the past, yet… it was completely different.

  Still, the worst was certainly the tail. Holding it inside as she moved, felt unnatural. Her bottom constantly clenched as it shifted around inside of her with every step, feeling as though it might fall out at any moment—a prospect so horrifyingly mortifying, she could not countenance it. The tail brushed against the backs of her legs as she moved, a constant reminder—as if the thing shifting inside her wasn’t enough. Worse, she knew the end of the tail was visible beneath the hem of her shirt. She fervently hoped no one would realize what it was. Surely, it could not be a usual sight... although, would it make her feel better if it was?

  Not knowing much about relations between a man and a woman, and certainly not those outside wedlock, Delilah had no idea.

  He took her to his office, and the only people they saw along the way were the two men she’d already seen with him, standing guard outside the bedroom door. Delilah blushed and ducked her head, unable to meet their eyes, but neither of them said anything to or about her, to her utmost relief. They recounted the prior evening to Henry as he led them into his office. Putting a cushion on the floor beside his chair, he tugged on Delilah’s leash and pointed to it before sitting down in his chair.

  Getting comfortable on the small cushion—her cheeks still smarting from her earlier spanking and a tail hanging from her bottom—was no easy feat. Delilah managed to listen to Butch and Frank with half an ear as she experimented with various positions that did not put undue pressure on her tender parts. It did not take her long to figure out Henry ran a den of iniquity, full of gamblers and whores. Delilah bit her lower lip. This was the man with who she had placed her future? Yet she still felt safer than she had at Felton House.

  Once Butch and Frank were done and had left the room, Henry leaned down to unclip the leash on her collar.

  “I have some work to get done,” he said, sitting back. “You may explore the room. There are books on the shelves if there are any you are interested in reading. If you need anything, tell me.”

  “Yes, um, Sir?” She realized she did not know what to call him. Despite everything they had done together physically, calling him by his given name still felt far too familiar.

  “Master,” he corrected gently but firmly, and Delilah felt something inside of her tighten and release. Yes, that was how he saw himself, did he not? That was the position she had put him in. Her Master. A strange shudder went through her body. Nodding, she looked down and away. When she peeked up again, his attention had turned to whatever was on his desk.

  Telling herself it was silly to feel neglected, she slowly got to her feet and began to explore the room.

  The Tramp

  Although he pretended not to be watching her, Henry could not focus on the accounts in front of him while his pet was moving around. He was too interested in seeing what she would do.

  First, she prowled to the window, glancing at him before pulling the curtain back to look out to the street. The view would tell her very little as the buildings in this part of London were unmarked. The street itself was unremarkable by design. After a moment, she let the curtain fall back into place before walking along the walls and peering at the paintings he had displayed. Seeing the tip of her tail, just visible and swishing back and forth as she moved along, made him grin. Even without it, she would have had the same little mincing walk, thanks to the plug stuffed up her bottom, but he still liked being able to see the tail.

  After perusing his artwork, she made her way over to the bookshelf he’d indicated. It wasn’t until she was stretched out on the couch on the far side of the room on her stomach with a book in front of her, he was finally able to focus on his own work. Even then, his awareness of her was hypersensitive, and the time seemed to pass more quickly than usual before his stomach began growling for food. The income from the hazard tables could wait. It was time to introduce his pet to more of the staff.

  Getting to his feet, he stretched. Even before he was finished, his pet was on her feet, closed book in her hand, watching him almost warily.

  “Come here, pet,” he said, picking up the collar. “You may leave the book on my desk.”

  She trotted over, unable to hide her concerned expression. His little pet was constantly anxious over everything, he’d notice. Whether it was part of her personality or something left over from the mistreatment she’d received at the hands of Lady Felton, remained to be seen. If the latter, he expected the effects to slowly diminish under his care.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. She nodded rather than answering him verbally, probably to avoid calling him Master. He had not missed how the word had affected her earlier. Deciding he would let her remain silent, he smiled and clipped the leash to her collar. “Come then.”

  Anxious fear flashed across her expression, but she followed him into the hall easily enough. She did not begin to balk unt
il they were within earshot of the kitchen. The usual clamor of cooking and conversation reached into the hall, which was when he felt her come to a jerking stop behind him. Turning his head, he twisted the leash around his hand, drawing her inexorably forward, inch by inch. Her anxiety had clearly turned to dread.

  “What is wrong, pet?”

  Her little pink tongue flicked out nervously, her words coming as a mere whisper. “There... there are people in there. They’ll... see.”

  With his hand nearly to the end of the leash, practically touching the collar, Henry pulled her forward, so she stumbled against him. His lips pressed down on hers with a hard, ruthless kiss that left her whimpering against him, one arm wrapped securely around her body to hold her pressed there. When he lifted his head, he did not release her, holding her close against him, so she could not escape.

  “The only person whose opinion you need concern yourself with is mine.” The hand on her back drifted lower to cup her buttock, making her jump a little. “Do you understand?”

  The Lady

  Such an easy thing for him to say and a far harder thing for her to do. With his hand on her bottom, still sore from the morning’s spanking, Delilah knew she must obey.

  Rather than letting the leash play out again, he kept her on the short length, his hand nearly at her throat as he led her into the kitchen. Somehow, that actually made it easier for her to follow as there was no slack in the leash for her to use. A number of people looked up as they walked in, most of them working at some chore. There was a large table against the far wall, past the counters and ovens, where a few were seated, eating a meal.

  “And who is this?” A man stepped in front of Henry, a white apron over his clothing. He was rotund, bald, and smiling widely at them, but in a friendly manner rather than the mocking she’d feared. There was a hint of a French accent to his words as though it had been worn down by time and exposure to the English. “You finally bring your lady to meet us?”

  While he was not entirely rude, it was the least respectful anyone had been toward Henry. Delilah looked at him almost fearfully, but he was shaking his head with a very small smile curving his lips.

  “No, Pierre, I brought her so you could feed her.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Pierre turned and clapped his hands at his workers, who immediately sprang into action—not that they had slowed very much to overhear the conversation. “Luncheon for the Tramp and his lady, anon.” He gave Henry and Delilah a little bow. “It will be delivered.”

  Bustling into the mix, Pierre returned to his duties as Henry led Delilah back out of the kitchen. She gave him a wild-eyed look when they returned to the hall.

  “Why did we have to go in there if the meal is going to be sent to you?” she asked, shaking inside.

  “Two reasons.” He smiled down at her, pulling her to him again with the leash. This time, he did not press her against him for a kiss, keeping her head tipped back with his fist, her hands pressed against his chest to keep her balance. “I wanted them to see you and know who you were. And I wanted to show you off.” She squeaked when she felt a hand shoved between her thighs, fingers probing her pussy. The sensation made her tingle all over, and she was shocked to realize she was wet.

  Pulling his hand away, Henry lifted his fingers to show her the glossy juices covering them. Delilah stared, mesmerized, but also slightly horrified.

  “See, pet? You enjoyed it, too.” He put his fingers to her lips. “Now, be a good pet and lick them clean.”

  Delilah stiffened, the sweet, musky scent of her arousal filling her nose, but she could not jerk back more than a few centimeters, and Henry’s grip on her leash tightened. His fingers pressed against her lips, forcing the lower one open. Staring directly into her eyes, he pushed his fingers forward, almost daring her to challenge him. Under his steadfast gaze, she found herself opening, so his fingers thrust into her mouth, gliding over her tongue.

  Tasting her own cream was utterly perverse, yet she felt her insides fluttering, the same way they had in the kitchen. She’d assumed her reaction had been due to nerves, but clearly, there was more to it than that.

  Helpless, enthralled, she stood there as he moved his fingers in and out of her mouth, the same way he had done with his cock earlier that morning, his eyes darkening with passion. Her own arousal was becoming impossible to ignore when he finally removed his fingers, letting them drop away. Panting, Delilah stared at him, wanting... something. Something more.

  But she could not give voice to her desires. Even as she felt them, her mind rebelled at admitting them.

  Thankfully, he did not seem to require an admission. It was enough, she cleaned off his fingers. He quietly led her back to his office. When the meal came, she knelt by his side, and he fed her by hand.

  The afternoon passed peacefully enough, although slightly uncomfortably, even though he took the tail out midway through to let her relieve herself and did not reinsert it immediately. The evening, however, was anything but peaceful. This time she was not allowed to remain in his room.

  Delilah found herself wearing nothing but his shirt, the plug back in her bottom, standing on a balcony overlooking a gambling hell.

  9

  The Tramp

  More than one curious gaze found its way up to the balcony, lingering on his pet before veering away when they caught his eye. She stood beside him, curious but also embarrassed.

  What would she do if he bent her over the balcony and fucked her from behind in front of everyone? His cock stirred at the thought, so he pushed it away. He was having enough trouble controlling his desires while he waited for the evening to end. Besides, his little pet was not ready for that... not yet. Tonight would be about introducing her to a different pleasure once they were back in his room.

  The sound of the curtain behind them opening made Henry turn. He’d been waiting on Butch’s return.

  “Anything?” he asked after nodding a greeting.

  Butch shook his head. “The household surely knows she’s missing, but there’s no gossip about it elsewhere. No one in the Warren been asking questions. Yet.”

  Beside Henry, his little pet jerked, realizing they were talking about her, and Henry put a soothing hand on the back of her neck. She settled but nervously flipped her gaze back and forth between him and Butch.

  The other man was done with his report, though. Henry did not need more information to know what had happened. Lady Felton was keeping the search discreet, trying to find Delilah before anyone even realized she was missing. There would likely be talk eventually, no matter what hold she had over her staff... although, the manservant who knew Delilah was in the Warrens had clearly not yet informed his employer. It was possible that loyalty to Delilah, rather than the Feltons, would keep the staff quiet.

  He had his own set of ears among the households of the ton, handsomely paid for their information, so Henry would know as soon as Delilah’s disappearance became common knowledge among Society.

  “Thank you, Butch,” he said, giving the man another nod. Melting back into the shadows of the balcony, Butch took up his sentry position with Frank, the two of them silent watchers over both Henry and the floor.

  The Lady

  The first half-hour she’d stood on the balcony, she’d been sure, at any moment, there would be an uproar when one of the gentlemen below recognized her. She’d kept her head down and face hidden as much as possible, but as man after man looked up at her and did not react with anything other than curiosity, she began to be braver. Even when she saw a few young lords she knew, ones she had danced with, they did not recognize her. Snippets of conversation drifted upward, and she heard the same words over and over again.

  “...the Tramp’s Lady...”

  “...the Tramp’s Lady...”

  “...the Tramp’s Lady...”

  Not one of them looked at her and saw Lady Delilah Darling, ward of Lord Greene, now under the care of Lady Felton.

  They only saw the Tramp with
his Lady.

  Knowing they did not see her made her feel strange, but there was safety in such anonymity. Henry might have been telling the truth about being able to protect her if, for no other reason, not one man present looked at her and thought she might be a debutante of Society.

  When Butch came to tell them, no one even seemed to know she was missing, she felt another wave of relief.

  Even wearing nothing but a man’s shirt, with a plug in her bottom, and having started her day with a spanking, she preferred being here than at Lady Felton’s. She was uncomfortable, exposed, and embarrassed but... safe. It made no sense. Not much did anymore.

  When she began to sway on her feet, Henry directed her to the chaise on the side of the balcony. It was low enough she could no longer be seen. Delilah curled up on her side. Despite all the noise, the voices began to blur together, and she started to doze as the long night went on and on.

  The Tramp

  Normally, Henry enjoyed standing on the balcony, surveying his kingdom. The hum and buzz of excitement, even the sorrow and frustration of the losers, rose to lift him up higher, feeding off of the energy his patrons created. Tonight, time seemed slower than molasses. His gaze continually slipped over to the curled-up form on the chaise. Her legs were tucked under the hem of his shirt, her tail hanging out, and she was clearly asleep, although her eyes would open from time to time, focus on him, then slowly close again. As if she was seeking him out, finding comfort seeing him.