ThePleasureDevice

by Regina Kammer

  “All right, darling.” She kissed him tenderly, trying to soothe him.

  Nicholas wrapped his arms around his lover and kissed her in return, only then realizing how much he needed release.

  “Go,” he said hoarsely. “Before I seduce you.”

  * * * * *

  Charlotte had indeed been as upset as she and Nicholas were about the news.

  “This will not do. I simply do not know what has gotten into Sophia!”

  Lavinia knew precisely what—or who, rather—had gotten into Sophia.

  “Can you contact Mr. Phillips, Charlotte?” she had asked.

  “I’ve already sent word, my dear. They can’t possibly marry without him present. My understanding is that he is in California, although I’ve telegrammed a few other haunts of his. It could be months before we hear from him.”

  “So that means we have some time to try to convince Julius that this is not the best of plans, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes, Lavinia. I will leave that up to you. You were close once. He’ll have to listen to you.”

  And that’s how Lavinia found herself in Julius’ parlor pacing on his Persian carpet while he watched her admiringly, comfortably ensconced on his couch.

  “You’ve a lovely figure, Lavinia. That dress shows it off quite well.”

  His suggestive tone and pointed gaze were unnerving. “That’s unlike you to comment on such frippery, Julius. Or are you trying to get in practice to please your young wife?”

  He chuckled. “I wondered why I was being dignified by your presence. So you’ve heard.” He calmly sipped his port.

  She rounded on him. “Of course I’ve heard! It was in the bloody paper! Why the hell did you publish it so soon?”

  “To take her off the market, so to speak. It is the height of the Season, you know.”

  “You are infuriating.” His scrutiny of her body continued to fluster her. “Has her father been informed?”

  “Not yet. Sophia has written him. He will know presently.”

  Lavinia hoped Charlotte’s telegrams arrived before whatever missive Sophia thought to send. Mr. Phillips would know that the ton of England were not happy about his daughter’s impending nuptials, no matter what balderdash Sophia decided to write.

  “How can you, Julius!” Lavinia paced more rapidly. “She’s an innocent.”

  “Yes, she is,” he concurred lewdly. “So very innocent, beautifully innocent. In fact, I will not even kiss her until my violation of her has begun. I want to watch her experience everything at once.” His wicked smile dripped with insinuation.

  Lavinia pursed her lips, suddenly glad Nicholas had kissed the girl. At least Helena would have a memory of her first kiss being with someone she adored.

  “Yet,” Julius continued, twirling his glass and watching the ruby liquor cling and drip down the sides, “my only regret is that I must give up my affair with the mother. Such a wondrous response to my touch.” He took a sip of port. “So wanton. So generous.” He glared at her. “So much like you.”

  Lavinia crossed her arms and turned away in exasperated irritation. But Julius was standing behind her in an instant.

  “You remember don’t you, my love?” His arm snaked around her waist while his other hand found the buttons of her bodice. “Your inattentive, flaccid husband and my fervent potency?” His breath was hot on her neck.

  She damned her inconstant desires as the heat rose in her body. “Julius, please,” she pleaded meekly.

  He rocked their bodies in unison. “You too were something of an innocent, were you not? He barely touched you, the fool.”

  Lavinia closed her eyes to more fully indulge in his touch, his closeness. “I couldn’t wait to see you,” she breathed. “I could never get enough of you.” She craved him even now.

  He drew her into his arms and kissed her tenderly, nostalgically. Twenty years ago, their affair had been intense, passionate. An imaginative lover, Julius had been a welcome respite from Lavinia’s impotent husband. Against her better judgment, she had fallen in love with him. But when she discovered she was with child, his child, Julius had insisted the pregnancy be ended. The affair quickly cooled but with the distance of time, it proved too easy to resume their connection.

  “We’ve always been good together.” He drew his tongue up the pulse point in her neck. She did not realize he had opened the top of her dress until he began unhooking the front of her corset.

  “Darling, don’t…” Her protest was weak.

  His hand found its way under her chemise, cupping a breast, his thumb and forefinger delicately pinching her awakening nipple.

  His intense blue eyes held hers with a familiar intimacy. “You are so unique in your lustfulness, my dear. Does your lover know you can climax thusly?”

  He bent down and took her breast in his mouth, his tongue rolling spirals over the sensitive peak, thrilling her as he used to. Lavinia closed her eyes and grasped his head as he attended her, trying to imagine Nicholas, realizing that no one else tortured her like Julius.

  She moaned softly.

  She should have known it would only encourage him.

  With experienced precision, he nipped at her now-hardened peak. Her body convulsed in orgasm, collapsing in his waiting arms.

  “Please,” she begged. “You must stop.”

  “Whatever for, my darling?”

  “Because I hate you now, you monster.” Even she realized her plaintive pout was pathetic.

  Julius let out a sharp laugh as he draped her pleasure-weakened body over his shoulder. She struggled, futilely, of course. He was stronger than his lean frame led one to believe. His strength had always surprised her, her willingness to let him subdue her had always frustrated her.

  He took her downstairs to his office, ably unlocking the door with his free hand. Once inside he laid her gently on the examination table right in front of what she realized was his electro-mechanical vibrating device.

  Lavinia studied the contraption with wonder. A small wooden peg was screwed at a ninety-degree angle to a brass baton, which looked to be the housing for a machine. It sat on a tray attached to a cart, a flexible cloth hose leading down to a motor on a lower shelf.

  “Ah, you are admiring my latest acquisition? It turns on down here at the motor,” explained Julius. “Electricity goes through the hose to the wand,” he picked it up, “which contains a small engine and causes the end to vibrate.” He pointed to a tray in the middle of the cart. “As you can see, there are various shapes which can be affixed to the end.”

  Lavinia glanced at the rubber attachments. One, to her utter astonishment, perfectly resembled a penis. She gasped.

  Julius chuckled. But his mirth was short-lived.

  With the nimbleness and dexterity of a wrestler, Julius flattened her against the table, strapping her arms at her sides. Despite her kicks he grabbed her legs, securing those in metal holders attached to the edge. He pushed up her skirts and tore open her drawers at the split in the crotch.

  He leaned over her face, an eyebrow raised sinisterly. “Remember those games we used to play? As I recall, you enjoyed being tied up.”

  “Oh God, Julius, please, don’t.” Back then he would torment her with swats from a paddle and stings from a switch. What would he do to her now?

  “I think it best you experience firsthand what the lovely Helena Phillips will feel. You’ll come to accept she should not be denied such pleasures herself.”

  Lavinia sucked in air.

  “Don’t bother about screaming, my dear.” His hand cupped her mons. “The deaf Mrs. Jennings is in her room on the upper floor. And Grace is probably watching at the keyhole. She likes to watch.”

  Lavinia tried desperately to not expose her inexorable excitation as his finger massaged her expertly.

  “Good,” he said smugly. “How lusciously wet. You arouse so quickly,” he leaned in to brush his lips against her ear, “just like I remember.”

  She hated her body for g
iving in so readily to his touch.

  Julius grabbed the wand and applied a small rubber tip, then bent down and flipped the control to the motor. The most fascinating whirring noise ensued.

  Holding her gaze with his own, Julius brought the oscillating end of the vibrator down and gently pressed it against her clitoris.

  Lavinia yelped in shock, almost fainting from the overpowering sensation.

  It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, nothing like the insistent solitary finger of a lover. This was one thousand fingers stimulating her all at once, their ministrations filling her entire body with ripples of aching desire, rolling into waves of lubriciousness, curling, peaking, hovering, retreating to begin all over again. Her mind reeled from the chaos, grasping at each instance of pleasure, reaching urgently as it dissipated only to be quickly replaced by another assault to her muddled senses.

  “It helps to close your eyes, my dear. Think of happier times between us.”

  His smooth voice conjured up erotic memories—a masquerade, her husband’s study, the beach at midnight—intensifying the sensations, helping her to focus. Sharp pleasures surged forth, this time she held on, gripping tighter, undulating with the sensual upswell, wrapping herself around each crest, sliding down with a moaning sigh, to be tossed once again in a sea of decadence. She did not want it to stop.

  Yet an end was inevitable, and the dreaded harbinger of culmination reared its unwanted finality against the waves of endless pleasure. She struggled to tamp it down, to prolong the lulling voluptuousness, but her climax was stronger than her resolve. She gave in, her senses shattering as she screamed her carnal completion.

  She lay on the table, panting, puffing, absolutely stunned by what had just happened. It had been the most extraordinary feeling, beyond anything she could have imagined. Helena would certainly succumb to any man who could deliver such a pleasure.

  Julius chuckled.

  Lavinia’s eyes flew open. Her tormentor loomed above her.

  “I’m not finished with you yet, my dear.”

  In one swift movement he loosened her bindings and pulled her down toward him at the end of the table, impaling her on his iron-hard cock.

  She shrieked. She was too tender, too sensitive. “Julius, please, I—”

  Her orgasm was unexpected. How could her body still not be satisfied?

  Julius let out an arrogant groan of approval. “So delicious, so—”

  Lavinia clenched around him, stifling a cry.

  His piercing blue eyes bored into hers, mockingly, angrily. “Very good, darling. Let’s have another, shall we?”

  Oh but she hated him! There was a time when she loved their games, but now his cool condescension was as stultifying as his prick was arousing.

  Her third orgasm left her utterly spent.

  Sensing her submission, Julius concentrated on his own culmination. He thrust into her with a familiar rhythm, quickly building speed.

  Lavinia could not help but climax again.

  His fingers tightened cruelly on her thighs, his pace slowed imperceptibly, his breathing became labored. She knew the signs when he was about to spend.

  “Julius, please, pull out. I’m not prepared.”

  “Pity,” he growled. “You should always be prepared when you come see me, my dear. But don’t worry. Your doctor-lover can take care of any consequences. You remember, Lavinia, like what I did.”

  He slammed into her one last time, holding his hips against hers, twitching inside as he emptied himself into her.

  Abruptly, he pulled out.

  “You won’t change my mind, Lady Foxley-Graham,” he said as he wiped his cock with a handkerchief. “No matter what the aristocracy thinks. Sophia already has shocked the ton with her marriage to an American businessman. No one will think twice about the daughter marrying a man of the professions. Poor girl was simply not raised properly, is what the gossips will say.”

  Lavinia tried to steady her ragged breaths and the beating of her angry heart.

  “Go. Back to your lover. Do not meddle in my affairs again.”

  Lavinia dressed, then left, defeated. She hated Julius. But even more, she hated her body for still wanting him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Telegram for you, Mr. Phillips. It arrived this morning.”

  Joseph Phillips took the card from the concierge at the New York hotel. “Thank you, Jones.” He glanced quickly at the dispatch. London. “So they found me, eh?”

  The pert Mr. Jones smiled boyishly. “It’s a big country, sir, but I’ve learned in my work that if someone wants to find you, you’ll get found.”

  Joseph chortled and took the missive to the lounge, finding a quiet corner with an opulently overstuffed chair. He sank into the cushions, feeling his muscles and bones relax in relief. His trip to New York had been unexpected. The anarchical violence of the Western states had proved too much even for a hardened businessman like himself. He abhorred that he had to carry a gun in order to build a railroad. It smacked of barbarity, not of progress.

  So, whatever the news was in the telegram, it was important enough that it had been delivered to a place where he was not meant to be, a place where he only might be if someone were looking everywhere for him.

  He read the note. His heart fell briefly before it tightened with irritation.

  The correspondent, the Countess of Banbury—Charlotte, as Joseph preferred—was absolutely correct. He should come home to England immediately. He would arrange passage on the next ship out and he’d be across the Atlantic in just over a week.

  He crumpled the card. What the hell had Sophia been thinking to allow an engagement to a commoner? It was not what they had agreed on for Helena. And a man in the professions, no less. A doctor.

  Joseph sighed, wondering just what this doctor looked like, imagining a suave seducer in a well-tailored suit. Marriage to a highly passionate woman had its distinct advantages, but every once in a while it had its definite drawbacks as well.

  * * * * *

  Nicholas had forced himself to congratulate Julius on his engagement when he saw him that morning in the office. What else could he do? His patients still needed him, and he still needed to maintain some sort of cordial working relationship with the villain until he found another situation. Lavinia had promised she would help him get out—had insisted on it, really.

  She had arrived at the doorstep of his flat late the night before, disheveled and in tears. She confessed all that had happened when she went to see Julius, was deeply ashamed that she had let him degrade her and desperately needed Nicholas to console her.

  And while he had helped her with a vinegar douche, then held her wretched form in his arms throughout the night, Nicholas felt the sting of reality. He had willingly given up his claim to a title. Had he not done such a rash thing, possibly he could have pleaded his case to her parents. But now all was lost. Helena could never, would never be his.

  “And then we can become lovers?”

  He consoled himself by imagining their trysts in third-floor bedrooms, his fantasies disregarding the certainty that Julius would never let his perfect bride out of his sights. His only hope was that Helena’s father would disallow a marriage to the corrupt doctor. Most likely, though, by the time Mr. Phillips arrived on the scene Helena would have been violated, then, her innocence lost, discarded by the vile man. At that point Nicholas would step in and offer his hand.

  It would be a dreadful way to start a marriage. But he would have saved his love from a lifetime of depravity.

  Nicholas tried to go on with his workday as if nothing were wrong. His patients sensed his sullenness, some even attempted to cheer him up. He choked up when he saw beautiful, bouncing babies, his failed fantasy kicking him in the gut with the realization that such happiness would not be part of his future.

  Mrs. Jennings had even noticed his mood and gave him an extra-large slice of pie with his afternoon tea. He had skipped his midday meal due to lack of in
terest in food, but was starving by four o’clock. Grace came to take his tray away.

  “There’s no more here to see you, Dr. Ramsay,” she said spiritedly.

  “Thank you, Grace. I think, then, I will go home.”

  “Very good.” She stood a little too close to him as she took his cup and saucer from his desk. “I think you should know, Doctor,” she began very quietly, “that she’s coming here tonight.”

  Nicholas gasped in horror. “Helena?”

  “Yes. He’s sending around a carriage at nine. She’s to have a ‘private consultation’, I think that’s what Dr. Christopher said. I’ve been told to disappear as soon as I’ve shown her in.”

  “Oh God.” His heart sank. He sat frozen at his desk, not quite sure what to do. He didn’t want to stay but he didn’t want to leave, either. He wanted to be there for his love.

  Grace bent down closer to his ear. “I think maybe you should make sure he sees you when you leave just now. I can let you back in through the service door when it gets dark out.”

  It sounded like Grace had a plan. “And then what?”

  “You get to her first. Tell her to go back home. I know a cab driver what can take her. I’ll have him waiting. You’ll accompany her, of course.”

  She had certainly thought things through.

  “Yes, that could work. But wouldn’t it be easier if I just stop her from getting into the carriage in the first place?”

  “Dr. Christopher’s got a man watching her house. Probably because of you.”

  “Good God!” Nicholas growled. He raked his fingers through his hair. “So what if I do come here and stop her? How will we cover it up? The doctor will wonder where she is.”

  “We’ll have her send a note around saying she felt ill in the cab or had second thoughts and she found her way home. You’ll have to take her directly home and won’t be able to get out of the cab yourself or you’ll be seen.”

  It seemed Grace had worked out every last detail. “Oh. I see.” Nicholas had to think the whole scheme through before he agreed to it. Dr. Christopher could be a bit of a brute when he was upset, and if things did not go his way—as Nicholas and Grace were planning—he would be very upset.