LORD DECADENT'S OBSESSION (2 page)

see you. I thought I had misplaced you until Hampton informed me you had a guest."

"Yes, darling, this is Mrs. Desiree Huntington. She is interested in becoming a

member of the club."

Lucien greeted Desiree with commensurate friendliness, welcoming her to the

rarified environs of his club. "May I introduce you to Prentice Hyde?"

Prentice had been standing next to the desk, and appeared to have a wholly

disinterested mien. "It is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Huntington."

Desiree noted that he seemed rather bored.

"Mrs. Huntington wishes a private conversation with you, Prentice, and possibly

a tour of the club, if you wouldn't mind." Serenity winked at Desiree.

"We will leave you two alone to have your discussion while I consult with my

wife. It has been an age, and I believe we have some unfinished business, do we not, my

dear?" Lucian cast his wife a look that spoke volumes.

Desiree smiled inwardly at the heat the two generated.

"I believe we do," Serenity said, laying a hand on her husband's arm.

They left the room, leaving Desiree alone with Prentice, to fend for herself.

"Well, since our hosts have left us to our own devices, what is it you are

interested in seeing, Mrs. Huntington?" Prentice addressed Desiree the moment the

door closed behind Lucien and Serenity.

"I am entirely in your hands, my lord."

Prentice raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who I am?"

"Everyone knows who you are."

He watched her green-eyed gaze rake over his body, spending an inordinate

amount of time at his crotch. His damned cock danced with excitement.

"Is there something in
particular
you wish to see, Mrs. Huntington?"

"I want more than you gave to dear, sweet Susan."

Prentice's eyes widened, his mouth fell open. "You were watching?"

"Yes. I am not a woman who hems and haws, sir. I wish to experience all the

naughty things there are to experience here at the Sapphire Club. I will submit myself to

you, if you will consent to take me on. I understand that arrangements can be made if

members wish such exclusivity."

"Well, certainly, arrangements can be made. Now, I would be happy to

accommodate you, but are you sure you know what the club is about?

"I do. Do we have an agreement, my lord? I am anxious to start."

Prentice walked toward her, and with his arm extended toward the door, he

said, "Come with me. It should never be said that I have kept a lady waiting."

Desiree smiled, and allowed him to guide her from the room. There was a flurry

of activity in the entrance hall, given the late hour—a lot of laughter, and blatant sexual

groping. She could hear moans, groans, grunts, and not a few howls as they passed

many closed doors.

As they walked, she spoke. "I have always felt I was born at the wrong time. If I

hadn't had brothers, I would have believed all of the malarkey that I was taught at Mrs.

Petrie's School for Young Ladies. She and her staff of dried-up old crones taught us

there was no more to life than embroidery, and learning to play the pianoforte."

Prentice escorted her into a room on the first floor. He watched her take in her

surroundings, and smiled inwardly when her attention came to rest on a rosewood

chaise covered in rich, crimson satin. The arms were of different heights, and were

thickly padded. "It's a Biedermeier," he told her. "The Damrill's have pieces like this

shipped in from the Continent. It is excellent for spanking, and other interesting

pursuits."

Desiree squeezed the curved arm. "Yes, I can imagine myself draped over it."

Prentice laughed. "I have met many women, but only rarely have I had the

pleasure of knowing someone so candid."

Prentice stood with his hands behind his back. He couldn't take his eyes from

her, finding her as physically attractive as she was stimulating. Her well-made, blue

satin dress hugged the luscious curves of her body, the tops of her breasts spilling over

the lace embellishments. She was a vision.

"Now tell me. What is it you wish to have happen here, Mrs. Huntington?"

"I wish to submit to you. I wish to be mastered."

Prentice arched his eyebrows. "Mastered, you say?"

"Yes, sir, mastered. I wish to be under your total control, at your whim. I will be

your . . . ."

"My what?"

She raised an eyebrow of her own. "Whatever you wish me to be."

Chapter Two

"Are you aware, madam, what that could entail?" Prentice asked, injecting a note

of seriousness in his voice.

"I have a fair idea, but I am sure that you can enlighten me. I am not missish."

"No, I suspect you're not, Mrs. Huntington. However, I am a man of rather

wicked tastes. A simple fuck is not in my nature, not since I came out of short coats. The

motto here at the club is, 'Blister their arse, and fuck 'em insensible'. I adhere to that

religiously."

"I have told you, sir, I wish to submit to you completely. I understand all must be

consensual here. Is that not so?"

"It is a rule."

"Then I have nothing to fear."

"Spankings hurt."

"I am prepared. I have wanted this for a very long time, sir."

"Did your husband spank you?"

"No, he did not, much to his discredit."

Prentice laughed again. He liked her, much too much, if the truth was known.

She was refreshing. His cock liked her too, traitorous creature.

"Well, you should know I spank only on the bare. There are certain rules that

must be adhered to, and we will rub along nicely. I am not easy to anger, but I have a

refined sense of ennui.

"As your
master
, I will be demanding. You must be available to me whenever I

wish. If you receive a missive asking you to join me, you must return with the

messenger without fail. I will never do anything to which you have not specifically

agreed. I also must have carte blanche."

"I agree."

The fire in the grate was burning low, making the room rather chill. Prentice

stoked it and added another log. "I wish to test you."

"Test me, sir?"

"I wish to see how you take a spanking. Bend over the side of the bed."

Prentice watched her face for traces of reticence. She stepped forward and did as

he asked without as much as a blink. She raised her skirts and placed her hands above

her head. He walked up beside her, making sure to brush her legs with his. He

skimmed his hands over her bottom and down to the backs of her thighs. He paid

particular attention to the tender skin of her inner thighs, and allowed the side of his

hand to graze her cleft.
Ah, lovely. Already wet.

"Spankings will always be conducted in the nude. You are to wear no

undergarments when you expect me or I summon you. I wish you to be clean-shaven,

as I abhor this." He gently tugged her pubic hair.

He pulled the ribbon that held her frilly white drawers, letting them slide

gracefully over her bottom and float down to her ankles. Then he rubbed his hands over

her white buttocks once again. "As long as we are in association, your bottom will never

look like this, my dear; I shall see to it." He gave her a smack with the palm of his hand,

not holding back in force.

She expelled a breath. "Oh!"

"Did that hurt?"

"No."

He gave her another, amazed when she reacted by situating herself so her

bottom rose even higher. "I like your pluck," he commented, before he went to work.

She moaned and squeaked, but took his punishment. After twenty strokes, he

stopped, having assured himself she would be a worthy partner in the particular games

he so enjoyed. It had been some time since he had found such a person to fill that empty

space.

He drew her undergarment up and helped her to a standing position. She was

not even out of breath nor did she have even a trace of a tear in her eye. "I believe we

shall do well together, Mrs. Huntington."

"Desiree, please call me Desiree."

"Oh, Desire in French, is it not?"

"Yes, my mother was part French. I am named for my grandmother."

"It is an apt name."

"Am I to assume you have some of that particular emotion toward me,
Master?"

"Well, I would have you note that my cock is like steel, and not only because I

have spanked you."

"What shall we do about that?" She riffled her hand over the fall of his breeches.

"You could bend over that bed once again, and I could fuck you insensible."

Prentice's eyes grew dark. His smile disappeared. Prentice narrowed his gaze

and frowned. He'd like to bury himself deeply within her, and he had no patience for

seduction this night.

To his surprise, and her credit, she followed his instructions. She raised her skirts

then released the offending drawers from around her waist.

"Oh, yes, and you've a nice color to your ass. I am pleased."

"Yes, I am rather enjoying the sting and burn. Now I would enjoy something

else."

He towered over her as he came up behind her and spread her legs wide with his

own. He teased her, finding her clitoris, taking it between two fingers. She was wet. He

was nearly salivating with need. With little ceremony, he entered her with a grunt. "Yes,

that's what I like, a wet and ready quim."

He pumped her as his hand found her anus. He toyed with the opening, getting

no argument from her. He used her own moisture to lubricate his finger and entered

her. She groaned and balked; he stilled.

"All right." He inched his way in, feeling her muscles expand and contract

around his finger, stopping and starting him.

He couldn't hold back much longer. The orgasm was building much too soon,

but he couldn't force himself to stop. With no regard for her pleasure, he pulled from

her at the last moment and finished with his hand. He felt an immediate sense of loss;

his hand had never been a substitute for the moist depths of a woman.

She groaned in what sounded to him like disappointment but he dismissed her

with a swat on the bottom. "Your time will come, but not tonight."

"That is not quite what I had in mind, sir."

"The next time we meet, I will see to your pleasure as well as punish you for your

impertinence."

She straightened and smiled. "So there will be a next time?"

"Oh, yes, you have much potential. Come now, I will see you home."

"I have a hackney."

"Are you arguing with me?"

"No, sir."

"Good. I shall see you home."

Fifteen minutes later, as the carriage made the long journey from St. John's Wood

to her Doughty Street home, Prentice was afforded the opportunity to examine the lady

who had so precipitously fallen into his life. He observed her without her knowledge as

the carriage lamp illuminated her face, a combination of fine bone structure and

flawless, alabaster skin. Her nose was Patrician, her expressive eyes just large enough to

portray surprise or pleasure, preferably in equal measure. Her mouth was a luscious

creation, with a bottom lip just plump enough to nibble on or suck into one's mouth.

The natural curve at her mouth's corners betrayed a propensity to smile often. He'd like

to be responsible for some of her smiles, and would be envious should anyone else do

the honors.

She was a beautiful woman, indeed. She had a bawdy nature, but to his way of

thinking, all women should. He had no patience for a missish female, and they were the

only kind that pursued him, more often than not with marriage on their minds.

The pretentiousness of society had prolonged his search for another mate,

though, heaven knows, it was disagreeably uppermost in his mind. A marquess must

secure the title and fortune with an heir. The very thought sent shudders through his

body.

His wife, should there ever be one, would have to live life on this terms. He

wouldn't give up his sexual proclivities for anyone. She would either be his partner or

she wouldn't be his marchioness. He'd had it
all
once, and there would be no

compromise. If there wasn't another Abigail for him, so be it. His cousin's footmen

would look wonderful in blue and gold livery.

"This really wasn't necessary, my lord. I am quite capable of seeing myself

home."

Prentice was torn from his melancholic reverie. "I realize that, my dear, but I am

nothing if not a gentleman."

"I would hope not too much of a gentleman."

He smiled, storing away her comment. "So you said your husband didn't spank

you?"

"No, he did not. He was not the man I wished to marry, and I would prefer not to

speak of him."

Prentice nodded his acknowledgement. "I am sorry if I have opened old

wounds."

Giving him a weak smile, she said, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Not at all."

"How long have you spanked women?"

Prentice laughed. "You make it sound as though I search the countryside for

fresh asses to blister."

"I apologize. I simply meant that—"

He put up his hand to ward off her apology. "I understand. I have been a devotee

for many years. I've spent a considerable amount of time on the Continent, and was

taught much by some very talented people."

Silence once again surrounded them but for the clopping of hooves on the

cobbles, and the occasional command from the coachman. The carriage creaked its way