Back in Service (10 page)

‘And did you ever see her again?’

‘No, Leo, I was too afraid to return.’

‘Well, you had your fun with her, anyway. I wish I had been there to witness it, but your account was graphic enough to get me fully aroused.’

‘Really?’ Hetty smiled, feeling gratified. It was some time since her husband had sported an erection, and forgetting herself, she placed her hand on his knee.

‘George, what are you thinking of?!’ Leo exclaimed, leaping to his feet in mock consternation.

‘I am sorry, Leo.’ She cast her eyes down demurely. ‘The thought of your arousal must have induced me to take a liberty, but I meant nothing by it, I assure you.’

‘I should hope not. At school if a fellow placed his hand on another fellow’s knee it implied only one thing.’

‘Really?’ She stared up at him, feigning innocence. ‘And what might that be?’

‘That he was a damned sodomite, of course. I should be horrified to think you had such tendencies, George, and even more disgusted to think I had evoked such feelings in you. Swear it is not true.’ He seized the leather-bound volume beside the bed. ‘Upon the Bible, George, place your hand on the cover and swear you have no such filthy designs upon me.’

Hetty hesitated. ‘What should I swear, Leo?’

‘Repeat after me – I do solemnly swear…’

‘I do solemnly swear…’

‘Upon the Word of God…’

Hetty repeated everything he said until ‘that I harbour no secret desires to perform any act of an effeminate nature, whether it be by committing impious sodomy or any lesser impropriety upon the person of Leonard Carstairs’, then her voice failed her and she hid her face in her hands.

‘What is
this?
’ came Leo’s harsh reprimand. ‘Do you find it impossible to swear such an oath, George?’

She nodded mutely.

‘I am shocked, George, shocked to the core. Does this mean you
do
harbour lewd fancies regarding me?’

‘I know not, Leo,’ she replied, sounding genuinely confused. ‘I mean, it is nothing specific, nothing I can explain, yet I cannot swear I have never had any improper thoughts regarding you. I could not perjure myself in that respect.’

‘You
have
thought of me in that way?’ he demanded angrily.

Even though she knew it was all a game, she felt her blood run cold. She had not forgotten that night in Paris when he beat her for attending Milord’s party.

‘Tell me, George, along what murky path have your private fantasies run? I must know.’

There was an imperiousness command in his voice that brooked no hesitation on her part. ‘Well, Leo,’ she began slowly, ‘you know you have been a good friend to me, and I have few male friends. We have been close, intimate you might say, and have shared experiences in this house other men have no inkling of. Your depraved father has put us through many experiences of a dubious nature—’

‘Yes, what of it? Get to the point, man.’

‘The point is, Leo, that I am very attached to you and sometimes attachment would like to express itself more physically.’

‘Physically? How so?’

‘I – I am not sure.’ She felt decidedly uncomfortable, as if she really
was
a man acknowledging unfamiliar feelings towards his own sex. Then she suddenly thought of Jane and realised there was a close parallel in her real life. ‘I know it is wrong, Leo, to feel attracted to one’s own sex, and yet one has to believe the evidence of one’s own body. I confess that, sometimes, when I am in your presence, I have strong feelings of sexual excitement.’

‘And you believe I am responsible for these feelings?’ Leo thundered. ‘How dare you suggest such a thing?’

‘I am sorry.’ She averted her gaze.

‘Do you know what we used to do when we caught a pair of queers at our school, George? We used to make them drop their pants and then tied them up, face-to-face, with their cocks bound together. Then we would take turns beating them on their bare buttocks with whatever implement we chose. I believe some of those depraved buggers actually enjoyed the experience.’

‘How terrible,’ she gasped.

‘I am of the opinion a good beating is the only way to cure such perverse tendencies. What think
you
, George?’

‘I am sure you are right, Leo.’

‘In that case, you will have no objection to receiving such chastisement yourself? After all, you have admitted your shameful secret.’

He had her cornered; all she could do was nod her assent.

He made her lower her trousers and kneel by the bed while he opened the wardrobe. ‘You used the same implement on Delia,’ he said. ‘So it seems fitting you should now have a taste of my riding crop. This devil must be beaten out of you, for I know from experience he will not leave of his own accord. Brace yourself, George, and remember this will hurt me as much as it hurts you.’

She held her breath, anticipating the peculiar combination of burning pain and hot arousal a whipping always evoked in her. The first blow had her writhing against the bed in agony, yet her sex was soon throbbing with lust as the rough material of her trousers, bunched around her thighs, caressed her damp labia.

Leo panted with exertion as he lambasted her, making her wince as the cruel leather thong bit into her naked flesh. She bit hard into her lower lip to keep from screaming, yet her body felt passionately alive and her soul was exhilarated. She derived a singular thrill from subjecting herself to her husband’s will in this manner, her passionate responses a perverse kind of puzzle she did not fully understand. Once more, she endured the intriguing mixture of painful indignation and gratifying humiliation, partly longing for him to stop while another part of her urged him on with her submission.

After six stinging strokes, Leo said he would spare her further torment. ‘We have shown the devil what for,’ he declared. ‘If he dares to return, he will know what to expect.’

‘Yes, Leo,’ she replied meekly, totally enamoured of him and in need of his comforting touch. ‘May I go and see if Hetty has returned yet?’

‘A good idea,’ he agreed with a smile of satisfaction. ‘Tell her to come here after you have seen her, please. I shall be waiting.’

She hurried into the little dressing room next door, where she carefully took off her masculine garments. Then she put on her own clothes, combed her hair, refreshed herself with
eau de cologne
and presented herself to her husband once more.

‘Ah, Hetty my dear,’ he greeted her warmly. ‘Did you see your brother?’

‘Oh yes, George and I had a nice chat.’

‘Good. And how are you feeling now?’

‘Much better, thank you, although I had a slight accident earlier today.’

‘You did? My poor Hetty, tell me about it.’

‘I slipped and fell in the garden and landed on my fundament. It is really quite sore.’

‘Dear me, let me take a look. Remove your skirt and lie on the bed.’

As usual, she did as he told her, and heard him grunt in sympathy as he studied the extent of her injuries. Then he opened the drawer of the dressing table where she kept her comfrey cream. Her body ached for his touch and she was gratified to feel his cool fingers smoothing the cream into her smouldering buttocks.

‘There, that is much better, is it not?’ he asked gently. ‘You shall soon be able to sit down without discomfort.’ His fingers slipped casually into the deep cleft between her bottom cheeks as he worked the cream into her skin, and for a moment she wondered, despite his earlier ranting against buggery, whether that was his intention. He had never tried to force an entry into her that way, but now, as he titillated the rim of her arse with his slick fingertips, such curiously debilitating sensations awoke in her sex and fundament she almost desired it. Yet even more she longed for him to enter her in the conventional way. Her pussy ached for him and the little bud standing sentinel over her moist passage was growing ever more needy. She pushed her mound hard against the counterpane and wriggled her hips in frustration.

‘You crave satisfaction, wife, I can see that,’ he murmured in her ear, still caressing her bottom with lazy strokes. ‘And I do, too. This afternoon’s work has awakened my appetite and I am raring to go. Spread your thighs and prepare yourself.’

When he speared into her from behind, she gave a cry of pleasure and soon they were rocking and bucking in rhythmic accord. His hands came round to grasp her breasts and tease her nipples through the thin material of her blouse while she fumbled with the buttons and opened it for him. The tweaking of her naked nipples sent wild flurries of sensation through her, hastening her approach to orgasm. She knew her husband was also close to climaxing from the breathless sounds he made, and the thought of him shooting his hot seed into her excited her even more. She squeezed her inner muscles around his thrusting erection, heightening her own pleasure. In the throes of ecstasy she arched her back, groaning with animal passion, and he joined her with a muffled bellow of relief as his cock spurted and his hands squeezed her breasts. Then, his energy completely spent, he collapsed on top of her.

The contact was painful since her bottom was still sore from his beating, and sensing her discomfort, he rolled off her so they ended up on their sides in each other’s arms. For a while they remained contentedly silent, then he kissed her and said, ‘I am so glad we did that, Hetty. I was beginning to fear I had lost the power, like my poor father.’

The remark intrigued her. ‘Are you quite sure he is impotent, Leo?’

He looked surprised. ‘Well, I have always presumed so. But I suppose the fact that he is in a wheelchair need not necessarily imply failure in that other department.’

‘At least he cannot chase after some poor innocent girl now.’

‘Like Jane?’

At the mention of her name, she was aware of a warm flush creeping up into her face and looked away guiltily. ‘I suppose so,’ she mumbled into the pillow.

‘You are concerned about her?’ He lay back with his hands beneath his head. ‘She
does
remind me of you when you first came here. She has that same sweet innocence about her.’

‘But I am not so innocent now, am I, dear husband?’ She tried to divert the conversation away from Jane. ‘I know how to satisfy you, and in more ways than one.’

‘You certainly do, but enough of this decadent dalliance. I must get up and be about my duties again.’ He rose and dressed himself, but after he left, she still lay musing on the bed. Their talk of Jane roused her curiosity about what might have happened to her that afternoon. While she was sporting and playing with her husband, Jane had been obliged to apply Hungary water to Sir Victor’s immobilised limbs, and perhaps to that other part of a man sometimes referred to as his ‘third limb’. The possibility that the perverse lord of Longton was not impotent after all thoroughly disconcerted her.

It was some time before Jane was seen again, and when Hetty encountered her in the corridor outside Lady Alice’s room later that afternoon, she was alerted by the girl’s cowed expression and dejected posture. Before she could enter her mistress’s chamber, Hetty hurried up to Jane and stayed her hand as she reached for the doorknob. ‘Are you busy?’ she asked gently. ‘What happened? Can we talk?’

Jane shook her head, her mouth tight and her eyes downcast.

‘We shall take tea together in my drawing room later,’ Hetty insisted. ‘Tell Lady Alice… tell her I want to show you how to take care of hairbrushes and combs. That will satisfy her.’

Jane nodded miserably and Hetty could not help fearing the worst. She spent the next half hour in a state of agitation, and when the tentative knock finally came at her door she rushed to open it. ‘Come in, my dear, I have the kettle on and there are crumpets to toast on the fire.’

While Jane sat near the blazing coals and pronged a crumpet, Hetty made tea in a kettle set on a little spirit-stove in the corner. She insisted on this small independence from the servants, having been used to making do for herself in Paris. On a chilly day, there was something intensely satisfying about the making of tea and the toasting of crumpets and she wanted it to remain a private pleasure.

Secure from interruption, the two young women settled comfortably around the small hearth. ‘Now, Jane, you must tell me everything that happened with Sir Victor,’ she began firmly. ‘Do not fear my embarrassment. Remember, I have been in your shoes and know everything about that man’s debauched appetites.’

‘Oh Hetty,’ Jane sighed, ‘it was dreadful!’ She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.

‘What did he do, my dear?’ Hetty put a comforting arm around her shoulders, resisting the urge to comfort her with a more intimate embrace. ‘Here, have a sip of tea, it will give you courage.’

When Jane had calmed down somewhat, she began to tell her story in a quiet, hesitant voice. ‘I went up with Nanny Baines, as you know, taking the Hungary water. He was sitting there in a big leather chair with his feet on a footstool and a plaid shawl covering his limbs. I thought nothing of it at first since he looked every inch the invalid. I even began to feel sorry for him.’

‘Your sympathy is wasted on the likes of him,’ Hetty interjected tersely. ‘It is never wise to lower one’s guard with a man like Sir Victor.’