Huffing out a relieved breath, she extracted the dusty book from where it had fallen behind a very old copy of The Iliad. She couldn't help herself and opened the leather bound volume, sighing happily. A very nice modern Greek script met her eyes and she was two steps toward the couch before she shut the book with an abrupt snap and placed it back on the shelf. It should be preserved somewhere, but she had to focus!
It was quite intolerable, really. Normal ladies had their eyes dazzled by gemstones and fashionable clothing. She craved nothing more than old books written in dead languages. For heaven's sake! She was worse than a raven picking up shiny trinkets.
"Very well, Lucrezia. Tell me your secrets, darling." She curled up on the sofa and began to read, her eyes skimming the pages. Yet after a half hour, she threw the book aside in disgust. There was nothing of the woman in those pages. For all its weighty breadth, it was nothing more than a collection of scathing commentary on the entire Borgia line.
She wanted to scream in frustration. For all the delightful gems contained in this library, the volumes were shelved with no rhyme or reason, some scattered haphazardly on the floor. It was utterly intolerable, and she was quickly running out of time. She'd meant to organize and catalog the library, but she'd lost interest in the task while under the witch's geas.
Sighing heavily, she started at the shelves closest to the door, pulling out books to read their titles. The clock in the foyer rang the time, and she stiffened in fear. How had it gotten so late? She'd found nothing to help her and had spent hours in her search!
She raced upstairs, hurriedly washing her face and hands to remove the dust. Stripping out of her dress, she sat and yanked the stockings up her legs, tying the garters as quickly as she was able. Thankfully, she wasn't so big that she couldn't run.
And run she did. She skidded to a halt in front of the door to the orangery, carefully composing herself as she caught her breath. With measured steps, she made her way through the foliage.
"You're late, pet," Angeline purred.
Elizabeth dropped to her knees and lowered her head, ignoring the sharp pain as her joints made contact with the stone floor. "Forgive me, my lady. I was reading…"
Angeline waved a hand absently. "You read far too much for a young girl, and you were supposed to be resting. In any case, I will postpone your punishment until Richard gets home. He so enjoys punishing your bottom when you're a naughty pet for us."
She winked one black eye, grinning wickedly. "I expect he'll use your naughty bottom often, now that he need not work toward putting a babe in you."
"Yes, my lady." The sight of Angeline’s eyes turning black reminded her of her wedding night. Richard’s eyes had done the same thing, but she’d brushed it away as a product of an overwrought imagination.
She patted the sofa. "Come sit with me and pour for us. I have news that will please you."
Elizabeth climbed to her feet, her knees aching from the stones. "Of course. It will be my pleasure."
Chapter 11
Friendship is the marriage of the soul, and this marriage is liable to divorce.
Voltaire
She sat as close to the hag as she dared, wanting to preserve the illusion of a devoted slave who was unwilling to presume upon her mistress's goodwill. She dredged up that vapid smile as if the pouring of tea for her mistress was her fondest wish.
She added a requisite dollop of cream to Angeline's cup and placed it on the saucer, handing it to her with her lip caught between her teeth. Angeline nodded, accepting the cup even as Elizabeth wished she'd filled it with arsenic instead of cream.
"You said you had news, my lady?"
Angeline sipped at her tea before replying. "Oh yes. We have a special treat for you. We're all going to a masquerade ball tomorrow night. You shall be dressed as our very special pet so everyone can see you."
Elizabeth had to swallow hard before she cast up her accounts into Angeline's lap. She could only guess what the witch intended her to wear, but she was sure it wouldn't be as concealing as the transparent chemises. She resisted the impulse to stroke her belly, knowing she must do everything in her power to perpetuate this farce.
"That sounds lovely, my lady. I look forward to seeing the costumes."
"And so you shall, pet. Unfortunately, you're owed a punishment today, so you shall go to the ball with a striped bottom." She sipped at her tea, her black eyes meeting Elizabeth's over the rim of her cup. "Many of the guests will enjoy seeing your reddened backside, though, and part of your punishment will be to show it to whoever asks."
She didn't know if she could do this. What Angeline asked was… No. It was perfectly fine. She would dress in whatever poor excuse for a costume the witch thrust upon her. She would take the beating she'd been told she would get. And she would smile through it all.
How much more would she be expected to endure? Beatings, illicit sexual relations, public humiliation… Where would this end? Was she strong enough to manage? Her mind flashed to her mother, too weak to bear the burden of her own inaction. It didn't matter how much more there would be. She would persevere.
And in the end, Angeline would die even if it cost her own life. There was no other option. She was no longer content with simply driving the witch away from her home.
"I will be proud to serve you, my lady. I hope Lord Shepton returns soon so you both can punish me."
Angeline stroked her hair. "Such a good pet," she murmured. "Finish your tea. You may rest until Lord Shepton returns."
"Yes, my lady." Elizabeth finished her tea as quickly as she could, choking down a tiny ham sandwich at Angeline's insistence, though it was ashes in her mouth.
"Go, pet. Be a good girl." Angeline gave her a wicked grin, her eyes flashing black before settling into the violet color she seemed to prefer.
Dropping a quick curtsy, Elizabeth made her escape.
She detoured to the library to retrieve the aged copy of The Iliad she'd found. It would keep her mind off her troubles for a few hours. It had been many weeks since she'd been allowed to lose herself in the pages of a good story, and she looked forward to this one. Her Greek was a bit rusty, but the few words she'd seen were well illuminated and clear.
It would also lend credence to the lie she'd told. Angeline was frighteningly observant of misbehavior.
Wishing she'd thought to send word to her father days ago, she settled into bed with her book. It would be at least a day before he received her note, and then another day for him to travel here. She would be forced to attend the masquerade.
She had no illusion that her father would race to protect her from the abuse. He would laugh and say she deserved it. She hadn't mentioned anything of the sort in her note. She'd simply said that their house guest was a lovely blonde woman with violet eyes called Lady Angela. If he'd loved Angela as much as her mother had thought, he'd race to find her again.
Yet she wondered what this act would gain her. Would Angeline be so startled to see her old lover that she lost control of Richard? Would she do something else? Elizabeth didn't know, and it was worrisome, yet she could think of nothing else that might have helped. It was still better than inaction.
She carefully opened the book to the first pages but after several minutes, she closed it. The modern Greek translation was awful. The translator had ignored the rhyme and meter of better translations, leaving this one flat and disappointing. Perhaps it had been written for a student. She set the book aside and climbed from the bed.
Wrapping herself in a warm shawl, she picked up her abandoned embroidery and an unadorned piece of linen from her basket. Her work would never be considered fine, but it was rote activity, and she found it soothing.
The chamber was nearly completely dark when she snapped awake, realizing she'd fallen asleep on the chaise. She set the linen aside and stirred up the embers from her fire, lighting a few lamps for good measure. She couldn't help but wonder where Richard and Angeline were.
Perhaps they indulged in t
heir own debauched activities. They did that sometimes, though they usually demanded that she watch them. When she'd labored under the witch's spell, she had found it titillating and had enjoyed every minute. The thought left her vaguely nauseated now, but she knew they would demand such things again.
Her belly roiled uncomfortably when she remembered the inevitable aftermath of such play. She would be forced to clean them, licking their combined juices from their hot bodies. She shuddered and pushed the vile thought from her mind when a knock sounded at the door.
Sarah poked her head in. "Lady Angeline asks that you join her for supper."
"Thank you. I'll be down in a moment." Sarah nodded and closed the door as Elizabeth washed her face and straightened the child's braids over her shoulders.
Richard must have been delayed. It was quite late. A small part of her was glad of it, wanting to delay the punishment to come as long as possible. The rest wanted it over with so she could concentrate on other things. She trudged down the stairs, her slippers dragging as she went into the dining room.
Angeline sat at the table, a scowl on her pretty face. "Join me, pet. Lord Shepton won't make it home tonight. I've just had a message from him. We'll just have to wait for your punishment until tomorrow morning. He promises to be home by then."
"Yes, my lady. I am disappointed he won't be able to punish me tonight." The words were automatic, and she was thankful she could say them with the required disappointment. She stood until Angeline invited her to sit, and at her wave of permission, sank gratefully into her chair.
"It's just as well. You look tired, pet. I want you to rest tonight. Hopefully, your complexion will improve and you can rid yourself of those unsightly dark circles under your eyes."
"Yes, my lady."
Angeline glared at her as if her lack of sleep was a purposeful affront. "Why aren't you sleeping?"
"I—. I have had to use the necessary quite often, my lady." That much was true. Her child seemed to take great delight in positioning itself directly over her bladder. Unless it moved, she would probably have to take up residence in the bathing chamber as the babe grew larger.
Angeline chuckled. "Ah, I see. I'm afraid that is something we'll just have to learn to bear. You will nap whenever you feel the need unless I have other duties for you."
"Yes, my lady." She would sleep once she was rid of the hag sitting across the table from her and not before! It was an empty promise, though. Her body demanded whatever rest she could get.
Once Angeline released her, she trudged back up the stairs to the lord's chamber. Her exhaustion forced her into bed and she slept deeply, for once untroubled by dreams.
∞∞∞
Richard's soft snores in her ear pulled her from slumber, as did the thick cock nestled between her buttocks. How did he remain hard like that? She had no experience or knowledge of such things, but surely it wasn't healthy for a man.
Opening her eyes, she found Angeline watching her, her head leaned comfortably on one hand as she inspected Elizabeth's face.
"You look a bit better this morning, pet."
"Thank you, my lady," she whispered. She didn't want to wake Richard, unwilling to face what she knew would come.
Unfortunately, Angeline's voice was crisp and rang loudly. "Are you ready for your punishment, pet?"
Richard snorted awake at the sound and propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at her, a wicked smirk on his face. "What an astonishing thing," he murmured. "I was just dreaming about giving our pet a sound thrashing, my dear."
Elizabeth would never know how she managed it, but she pasted that foully vapid smile upon her face. The words fell from her lips as if she recited a line from a debauched play. "I need your punishment, my lord. I have been very bad."
He laughed and slapped her hip. "Get her cleaned up and ready, Angeline. I'm afraid I missed supper last night. I'll rejoin you after I've had a bite of breakfast."
"Of course, darling. We'll see you soon."
He climbed out of bed and donned a dressing gown, whistling as he left the room.
The sound cut off as the door shut behind him, but Elizabeth hated that cheerful whistle. He always whistled when he planned to abuse her. She held back a sigh of resignation and crawled from the bed, knowing there would be no magical healing offered this day. Angeline had already told her she wanted her bottom well striped for the masquerade.
"Go into the bathing chamber and wait for me."
Elizabeth obeyed as Angeline slipped her arms into a dressing gown before following her. What had Richard meant by cleaning her up? She'd bathed just yesterday, and had planned to do so before their engagement.
"Bend over and put your elbows on the edge of the tub, pet. Legs apart."
Again, she obeyed the barked order, fully expecting the slap of leather across her exposed backside. Yet Angeline left Elizabeth alone in that ignoble position as she hummed. Water ran and she heard the noise of a vessel being filled, but she dared not turn around to see what the witch was doing.
She stiffened when a damp hand touched her hip. Angeline held a small pitcher in one hand. In the other, she held a hose and a funnel. The hose had a tapered nozzle on one end. None of the items were familiar to her, and Elizabeth couldn't understand their purpose. It would do her no good to ask, though. She'd find out soon enough.
"Remain bent over, but use your hands to spread your bottom open for me. We’ll do this often, now that Richard has no need to use your cunt."
"Yes, my lady." Once she'd done as she'd been told, she stiffened as the witch inserted the nozzle into her exposed bottom hole. The purpose of all the apparatus soon became clear as the witch began to pour water into the funnel, filling her bowels with the warm liquid. The pressure soon became almost unbearable, and she let out a small cry of discomfort.
She felt like she might burst before the witch stopped pouring. Angeline slapped her hip. "We'll let that sit for a few moments while I get you warmed up." Her hands slid down over Elizabeth's buttocks. "I'm going to take this out, but if you release, the punishment you have coming will be nothing compared to what you get if you mess the floor."
Elizabeth clenched her teeth, struggling to keep the water inside as the witch drew the nozzle from her body. Something much larger took its place and she winced at the burn to her sensitive bottom.
Angeline clapped her hands. "There. That should keep you tidy while I see to warming that bottom." She sauntered into the lady's chamber, returning with a wide leather strap in one hand.
Elizabeth tried to ignore the strap as it fell, painting her bottom and thighs red. Angeline often did such things before moving on to harsher punishments, but it was hard to bear while her belly churned so uncomfortably. The witch took her bloody time with it, methodically warming her backside a section at a time until her bottom and thighs were hot and tingling with the increased sensation.
"That looks lovely, pet. Richard will be so pleased." Her hand touched Elizabeth's hip once more. "I'm going to remove the plug from your bottom now. You may relieve yourself, but take care you don't make a mess."
Elizabeth didn't know how, but she managed to shuffle to the commode and sit, sighing in relief as the waste flowed into the bowl. Angeline allowed her to cleanse herself before taking her hand to lead her into the lady's chamber.
Elizabeth loved and hated this room in equal measure. It was a place of punishment but also of incomparable pleasure if she was a good pet for them. She wanted to spit the words back at them and fight for her dignity, telling herself that she wasn't a bloody pet.
Pleasure came from this place. So did pain. There was always pain, regardless of the delight, and it would be pain again today. It disturbed her how much those two things had become entwined together in her psyche. She'd only had a few days of pretending. How many days until she could reclaim her life?
For now, she would endure their depravity, just to keep up the illusion that she remained their devoted slave. She knelt and leaned her
head against Angeline's thigh, the epitome of an obedient pet.
∞∞∞
Angeline had just finished strapping her into the pillory when Richard entered the room through the bathing chamber, clad only in a dressing gown as Angeline was. He untied the sash, dropping the garment into a careless puddle on the floor, grinning as he stood unashamedly nude, his cock hard against his belly.
Such a beautiful man, and so very evil. With his black hair, he looked like renderings of Lucifer. Shadows from the lamps crossed his face, highlighting the plane of his jaw and sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes glittered with feral need, and his hands clenched reflexively as he picked up a cane. She wished she knew how much of his behavior could be attributed to the spell upon him.
Angeline reached her hand out for the cane, but he swatted her away, growling, "Mine." She backed away, but Elizabeth saw a small, pleased smile cross her face as the cane whistled through the air.
That first blow stole her breath and Elizabeth knew he planned to strip the flesh from her bottom with that wicked cane.
"Count them, pet."
She panted heavily and coughed before she could form the words. "How many?"
"As many as I say. We'll start over." The cane fell again across the tops of her thighs.
"One," she whispered, tears streaming from her eyes. She let them fall.
By the tenth stroke, her voice was barely a whisper. She was too hoarse from screaming.
Thirty came and went, leaving her semi-conscious. She spouted numbers with a barely audible whisper. They didn't seem to care that she'd lost count, and she'd forgotten that they'd asked her to. All thought left her, and she strove only to endure.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 13
