It reached the tops of her thighs, the hemmed edge tickling the crease below her buttocks. If she bent over, it would expose her entire backside. As it was, the stripes on her thighs would be bared to all eyes. The fabric was so sheer that her body was visible even where it was covered.
She might as well have gone naked for all the good the scrap of fabric did. Angeline brushed Elizabeth's hair, securing a few tendrils around her face with a jeweled comb, but the rest was left most scandalously free and curled to her hips. At least something was covered.
Angeline gazed at her speculatively then clucked her tongue. Disappearing into the bathing chamber, she returned with a pot of rouge and decorated Elizabeth's lips and nipples with the vivid concoction. Stepping back, she clapped her hands. "There. You look perfect."
Glancing in the mirror, Elizabeth had enough sense to keep her disagreement to herself. She looked like a harem girl or a particularly cheap whore. She supposed that was the look Angeline sought.
Richard returned, followed by Sarah with their meal. He looked very fine, with his evening coat and trousers that molded to his strong thighs. His tie and shirt were perfectly white yet bore studs of jet. He hadn't bothered to shave, and darkened stubble shadowed his jaw. Elizabeth thought he looked very handsome, and her core twitched in want as she wondered what that stubble would feel like between her legs.
She shook her head, ignoring the thought. Now was not the time to indulge in useless fancy. Sarah did not meet her eyes as she set a plate with a pale omelet on the low table near the chaise longue, far away from the larger table they used for their private meals. She understood why when Richard lifted the domes from the plates.
It was ham. She had to swallow hard and rushed to throw open a window. Tugging a chair closer to the cool air, she sat with her plate. No one stopped her and she managed to finish her meal in peace. The omelet was delicious and the hint of dill complemented the mushrooms perfectly. Bless Mrs. Abernathy, she'd even added a little sharp cheese between the folds. It was quite possibly the best thing Elizabeth had ever tasted.
Despite the lovely meal, she hoped she would get over her aversion to meat soon. It would make life very difficult, and she didn't have time to spend on being ill.
She waited patiently while Richard and Angeline finished, not closing the window until their plates were clear. Angeline glared at her with ill-disguised irritation, but Richard simply smiled and nodded.
"Did you enjoy your mushrooms?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you."
"Perhaps you can go out another time and gather enough to share."
"If you wish, my lord."
"Don't encourage the brat, Richard. She'll take all sorts of liberties."
Elizabeth lowered her head, tears pricking her eyes. It was a good thing she'd had such a lovely day. It was likely the last she'd experience for a very long time.
"Enough, Angeline. I don't wish to listen to your shrewish commentary tonight. Elizabeth has done everything we've asked and deserved a day to herself." He snapped his fingers at Elizabeth. "Come along, pet. It's time to go."
"But, Richard!"
His face grew stern and hard as he spun around. In a flash, he had Angeline pressed up against the wall, his hand circling her throat as her eyes widened. "I said, that was quite enough. Further, since you're being such a brat yourself, I forbid you to punish her at all, even when she's been naughty."
Angeline's eyes turned black as Elizabeth peered at them from under her lashes. She huddled in a corner, far away from them, hoping she could stay out of the coming argument. The witch snarled, the sound sending chills down Elizabeth's spine.
"I have no idea why you're being so protective of a stupid little slave. She's easily replaced."
"She's also my wife and is carrying my child. I love you, but I will not permit you to cause her any more unhappiness."
The situation was troubling. Angeline was furious and like an angry animal, she was very likely to strike out. Yet the obvious animosity between the two gave Elizabeth hope. If she could extricate Richard from the witch's influence, perhaps he'd send her away. He might even believe her about what had been in her mother's journals.
She knew it had been a mistake to burn the blasted things! For an otherwise clever girl, she could be frightfully stupid when she set her mind to it.
What had changed between the two? This morning they'd been in agreement about everything they did to her, and Richard hadn't cared that he'd beaten her bloody. Yet now, it seemed that he was a single waspish comment away from discarding Angeline. It was so very confusing, and Elizabeth couldn't even begin to formulate a hypothesis without more information.
"You forgot something, Angeline." He glared at her until she huffed out a breath and produced a plain white domino mask and secured it on Elizabeth's face. She tied the strings tightly at the back of Elizabeth's head, painfully including several strands of hair in the knot.
Vicious harpy. She'd had every intention of making Elizabeth go into that place without the anonymity of a mask.
Slipping her bare feet into the jeweled slippers Angeline had given her, she said nothing as Richard clipped a chain to her collar and led her outside then into a waiting carriage. The air had grown chilly with the sunset, and she shivered as he pressed her to the floor between his knees. Angeline flounced a bit, but settled next to him as the carriage made its way down the lane.
Chapter 13
Marriage is distinctly and repeatedly excluded from heaven. Is this because it is thought likely to mar the general felicity?
Samuel Butler
The ride to the masquerade was thankfully short. Elizabeth's knees and back ached from kneeling on the hard carriage floor, trying to keep herself steady as she was jostled around. She breathed a sigh of relief when it stopped in front of a well-illuminated manor house. The light streamed from windows, and she could see the shadows of many people inside.
Angeline tried to get his attention, tugging on his arm and touching his skin, but he ignored her, focusing on Elizabeth as he helped her from the carriage. She shivered as the chilly air touched her bare skin, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Elizabeth pressed into the warmth of his coat gratefully.
He growled irritably when Angeline clutched at his free arm, but allowed her grip without comment as he escorted them through the open doors. They walked into a crowded ballroom, and Elizabeth knew that it would be a crush. There were so very many people, all in masks, and most in very risqué costumes. Several women were dressed as she was, domino masks covering their faces.
How many of those women were wives of the men who held their leashes? Angeline hurried away, her shrill voice ringing over the din of conversation as she greeted someone with sickening effusiveness.
"That's quite an interesting slave you have. Did Lady Angeline find her?"
Richard pushed her toward the man and she stumbled. Strong hands caught her, and she stared up into vivid green eyes.
"Go with Lord Denforth, pet. Obey him." Richard said nothing else as he passed the chain to the stranger.
As Lord Denforth led her away, she heard Angeline screech once more, yet lost sight of the pair almost immediately as she was tugged through the crowd of revelers.
It was utterly terrifying. She didn't know this man. Who was he? She considered trying to flee, but where would she go, dressed as she was? Escape was impossible, though. Richard and Angeline would surely catch her, and her ruse would be exposed.
Elizabeth followed him through the milling crowd. People touched her as she passed, both women and men, but she ignored them. One rotund man she recognized from Commons tried to push his wobbly cock into her backside, and she pinched him, making him squeal in pain as he took his sad little cockstand elsewhere.
Lord Denforth soon led her to a secluded corner and sat down as he gave her a speculative look. She straightened her spine and focused on him. This one wasn't under a spell, nor did he appear to be stupid. He sat down and patted h
is thigh, inviting her to perch on his lap.
She settled herself on his leg, her thighs pressed together modestly and her spine ramrod straight. He was handsome, classically so with an aquiline nose and high cheekbones over a full mouth and clean-shaven jaw. His chestnut hair was fashionably dressed and fell in tidy waves to his collar. Yet his eyes caught her. Fearsome intelligence and perception emanated from those green orbs, and she shivered.
He stroked the healed brand on her bottom. "Despite the brand and the cane marks on your luscious little backside, you are not a slave."
His silky baritone caressed her spine, and she coughed out a breath before she could answer. "I am what Lord Shepton calls me, my lord."
He chuckled, and she shifted upon his lap, suddenly wishing to be away. Even the rotund man from Commons would be a better choice. "Does he call you Lady Shepton, perhaps?"
"N-no, my lord."
"Michael."
"I beg your pardon?"
"My given name is Michael. I wish you to use it. Your husband and I are close friends, and I daresay you will see me often."
"You have me mistaken for someone else, I'm sure."
"Perhaps. I know that Shepton has taken a young bride. I haven't yet had the pleasure of her company, but I saw her once at a country fair. She has long, beautiful hair just like yours." She jerked away when he tugged on the edge of her mask, but he only smiled knowingly.
His breath tickled the skin around the jeweled collar, and she shivered in a mixture of discomfort and pleasure. She wondered what he would ask of her.
"She is the former Elizabeth Stratton. Would you know of her?"
"I know no such person, my— Michael."
"I see. Well, I suppose we ought to get started, then. Spread your legs, little slave."
She tried to control her blush as Michael's large hand stroked her thigh, brushing a teasing caress along her skin as he reached her woman's flesh. A touch sent the bell ringing and he chuckled darkly.
He nipped the bare skin just below her collarbone and tugged the leash so she had to lean closer to him. "You must be one of Angeline's. She always marks her pets thus. Tell me, little pet. Does she let you touch each other? Is her harem filled with the sweet chimes of silver bells at night? Such wicked, titillating rumors I hear of that place."
Slapping her hip firmly, he said, "Turn around and straddle me. I wish to see your face."
She hadn't known that Angeline had such a place, but it didn't surprise her. Were the slaves there treated kindly? She had no time to contemplate the matter. Michael tugged her forward insistently.
The thin fabric draping her body gave no protection. As she spread her thighs, the hem rode up, exposing her body to the room, and she could feel the heat crawl up her chest to warm her cheeks. He couldn't see very much under the mask, but she knew the blush was there, and it was infuriating. This was not her shame!
His finger was hot through the gossamer fabric as he traced circles around her rouged nipples. "I would like to suck these pretty treats but Lady Angeline would not approve, I'm afraid. She does so love decorating her pets."
The sensitive buds tightened under his clever fingers, and he flicked one to set the bell ringing. "Are you a good pet for her?" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "No, you are probably naughty. I'll wager she takes a strap to your round bottom at least daily."
His fingers delved under the translucent fabric and he grinned as he touched her core, one neatly manicured finger delving deep inside her, sending heat deep within her. Whimpering from the mixture of shame and arousal, she lowered her head in mortification, knowing what he would find.
He tapped her chin with the fist holding her chain, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Open," he ordered. She obeyed and he laid his wet finger upon her tongue. "Now, suck."
A tear leaked from her eye as she obeyed, swallowing the sweet, musky taste of herself. She wanted desperately to close her eyes against his penetrating stare. He tugged her forward until their lips nearly touched.
His voice was a silky hiss, and she whimpered, ashamed of herself for the needy sound. He chuckled softly and said, "I'll even wager my best pair of carriage horses that you're naughty because you like it."
Lips parted in surprise, she stared at him then looked away quickly. Was he correct? Had she been susceptible to the witch's spell from the beginning? No. She might have enjoyed playful games with her husband. The hag instigated pain, but never pleasure. That was a lie, though. She had reached her woman's delight many times from Angeline's ministrations.
"I can almost hear your thoughts, little slave. You wonder if I'm right. You will punish yourself for what you see as a sin, but I would like to offer you another option." He helped her from his lap and stood, holding his hand out to her. "There is no shame in enjoying the taste of pain with your pleasure, my dear. Let me show you how it might be."
She stared down at his outstretched hand then up into his handsome face. His expression was a mix of kindness and wicked intent, but she sensed no malice from him. Could he be trying to help her? Perhaps he could teach her to bear Angeline's and Richard's perversions with more equanimity, until she could get rid of them. She put her hand into his, and he gripped it tightly for a moment before he tucked it under his arm.
Michael led her to a quiet, comfortable room away from the crush of people. Two men, naked but for collars around their throats, lounged in front of the fire, petting each other. One was black as pitch, his skin glowing almost blue in the light from the fire, and she wondered what that ebony skin would feel like under her fingers. He'd been shorn of all hair and his bare scalp glistened above intelligent brown eyes.
The other man held out a hand and smiled shyly. Short russet curls surmounted his freckled face and Elizabeth recoiled away from the innocence in his guileless blue eyes.
‘Come, little one. Let us give you pleasure." The black skinned man's accent made her think of hot Caribbean skies and warm water as he stood. She looked up and up into his face.
"How are you so tall?" She winced and chided herself for the infantile comment, but he laughed at her words.
"Come sit with us, pretty child, so that we might bring you joy."
She barely heard Michael shut the door as he left. "Where are the whips?"
"Do you want them?"
"No." She squeezed her eyes closed. "Lord Denforth said I should learn about such things."
"We will give you that if you wish it." He pulled her down to sit between them. "I am Moses, and this is my friend, Liam. Do we please you?"
Moses tugged her into his lap and his breath tickled the tender skin behind her ear. "We can give you pain and pleasure, my lady." He nipped at her lobe, sending an arrow of need down to her core. "The most exquisite pain."
The breath left her lungs as Moses tugged her hair, forcing her head back as he bit and sucked at her flesh. Liam stroked a hand down her belly, and the warmth of his palm sent heat raging through her.
Moses stood. Her weight meant nothing to him as he carried her to a low chair in the center of the room. He bent her over, pressing her hands into the fabric of the seat. He centered her so that the soft cushion of the chair back rested directly under her breasts, mindful of her belly. The vulnerable position frightened her, and she struggled against the hands holding her down.
"Shhh, sweet child. We promise only pleasure." Moses pressed her down and kicked her feet apart as she panted in a mixture of distress and arousal. She didn't want a beating! This wasn't at all what she wanted. A sob escaped her lips as she relaxed her body over the chair.
Would she forever be the whipping boy? Was this now her lot in life, to be so low that even slaves could hurt her? Moses palmed her bottom, squeezing her pale flesh as he brushed the fabric of her garment aside. Yet it didn't hurt. Liam moved behind them, but she couldn't focus on him.
The sharp tang of ginger assaulted her nose as Moses settled to his knees behind her. She knew he examined her most private parts and fought against hi
m once more. Yet it did no good. When he pressed his tongue against her sensitive flesh, she could not resist.
The man's mouth was utter magic as it caressed her woman's flesh. He pressed that clever tongue against her button and she squealed in pleasure, panting her want into the velvet cushion of the chair as he worked the piercing over her flesh. A thick finger breached her cunt just as something intruded into her back passage.
"Pain is only another aspect of pleasure." He pushed the object deeper inside her bottom, but it was small and not uncomfortable. Liam moved in front of her and knelt down, holding her head still when she tried to look at Moses behind her.
In a flash, he wrapped a scarf around her eyes, and she cried out at the loss of her vision. "Stop! I don't—"
"Hush and enjoy Moses." Liam's stern voice and a sharp yank on her chain made her go still. How had such a sweet, innocent appearing young man gotten such a deep, authoritative tone? She obeyed him but couldn't still the trembling in her limbs. A soft hand stroked her back just as she heard the soft whoosh of leather through the air.
Gritting her teeth, she steeled herself against the pain, yet when the blow fell, it didn't leave burning agony. The soft tails of a flogger tickled her bottom. It stung, just a tiny bit, but it was nothing like Angeline's hard strap or that horrific cane. Her breath left her body with a soft sigh, and she relaxed into the next blow.
Perhaps Moses would deliver harsher punishment with that wicked implement but for now it felt divine. The blindfold covering her eyes made everything that much more intense. Liam's hand stroking her back, the kiss of the flogger upon her bottom and thighs… The thing in her bottom warmed her, and she wiggled at the pleasurable sensation, though she couldn't imagine what sort of object would deliver such delicious heat.
She gasped in shock and cried out as the tails curled around her woman's flesh, the sting catching her unprepared. She brought her legs together to protect her core from the lash, but the burning in her bottom increased, and she whimpered as she eased her legs apart again. With a gasping sob, she exposed her vulnerable flesh, unable to bear the heat.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 15
