LORD DECADENT'S OBSESSION (4 page)

he did so.

"I love the sting," she whispered, though Prentice heard.

"Are the beads in place?"

"Yes, of course they are, just waiting for you to remove them."

"All in good time, my darling."

"Sorry, Prentice, we weren't trying to ignore you. How did you make out with

Mrs. Huntington the other evening?"

"So far, so good. She seems willing enough." He kept his demeanor casual,

belying the hopefulness he felt.

"Have you put her through her paces, old man?"

"Not yet. That's why I'm here. I've sent a footman with a message. She should

return with him soon. Is Marjorie about?"

Serenity nodded, and went to the bell pull. Within a minute, Marjorie, Serenity's

personal maid, appeared at the door.

"Yes, Mrs. Damrill."

"Lord Wycroft wishes to speak with you. Darling, will you join me, please?"

"Lucky dog," Prentice called out as the Damrills left the room.

"Yes, my lord, how may I be of service?"

"I am expecting Mrs. Huntington, Marjorie, and I wish to have you take care of

her."

"Yes, sir. Do you wish for the usual preparations?"

"Exactly, my dear, the usual, then take her to the Queen's suite. Array everything

as usual. I will make my choices when the time comes."

"Yes, sir, I will have everything to your liking."

"You always do, dear. I don't know how you handle so many responsibilities.

You are amazing."

Marjorie blushed prettily, curtsied, and left the room.

* * * * *

Upon her arrival, Desiree was escorted to a retiring room, whereupon, a maid

greeted her warmly.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Huntington. My name is Marjorie. His lordship has asked

me to assist you."

"Assist me?"

"If you will allow me, I will tend to your preparations, after which you will meet

with Lord Wycroft."

Desiree nodded, and Marjorie began to unbutton Desiree's dark blue muslin

gown.

"Step out, please," she said, then went about hanging the gown on a hook affixed

to the wall.

"I must ask you to remove the rest of your clothes and go to the bed for me."

Desiree frowned. She hadn't expected to be delayed by a maid and asked to strip

naked in front of her. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, with not a little perturbation

in her voice.

"Lord Wycroft asked that I perform the usual preparations before you meet with

him, ma'am. Would you rather I not proceed?"

"He told you to do this?"

"Yes, Mrs. Huntington, he did."

"I see. Very well, then." Apparently, Wycroft considered this all part of her

submission.

When she was naked, she went to the bed.

"If you will scoot to the edge of the bed, Mrs. Huntington, and raise your feet up

to rest on the edge, I will shave you."

Desiree remembered the little tug on her pubic hair that had accompanied

Prentice's admonition.

"That's it. Now spread your legs wide for me, and I will be done here in a few

minutes."

Desiree watched as the little maid, not much younger than she, wielded the

straight razor with an enviable expertise.

When they finished, Desiree climbed into the tub that had been prepared for her.

The bath was scented with lavender oil. She luxuriated while Marjorie was out of the

room. When the maid returned, she ushered Desiree from the warm water and bundled

her into a nightrail and wrapper.

"I am to escort you to where Lord Wycroft will join you. Please come with me."

Desiree followed the young maid down a long passageway. The walls were

covered with framed depictions of people engaged in various sexual acts. There were

no hunting scenes—no, nothing so benign. Paintings of men spanking women had

found their place upon these walls. Sexually explicit sculptures adorned pier tables set

against these same walls, lending to the atmosphere of pure, unadulterated debauchery.

The decor was all quite stimulating. She'd never seen anything like what she was

seeing on this, her first real foray into the world of the Sapphire Club. She reminded

herself that this was for her, because she
wished
to immerse herself in this carnal world.

Later, and she would know precisely when 'later' was, she would pull the rug out from

under lofty Lord Wycroft. Until then, however, she would enjoy the decadence she so

craved but had never had the freedom to enjoy.

Marjorie opened the door to a room nearly at the end of the passageway,

curtsied, and left Desiree to enter alone. Two glass and ormolu sconces lit the room. The

shadows danced about the ceiling as she walked by, stirring the air. There was a

massive bed, dark wood, ornately carved, and dressed in a fine, red silk counterpane.

The four posters were swathed in red silk as well, opulently draped, flowing to soft

pools at the floor.

An elegant, Ionic-scrolled day bed, upholstered in red velvet, stood against one

wall. Desiree ran her hand over the plush fabric and imagined herself draped over the

higher of the two pillowed arms. Her cunny clenched and moistened. She wondered if

her master would fuck her from behind as she bent over the arm.

There was a short table with a gilded top beside the day bed, upon which lay

four implements—a well-worn leather strap, a riding crop, a wooden paddle and a

cane, all neatly placed side by side, exuding promise for a very interesting afternoon.

Chapter Four

Prentice had waited in the offices of the Sapphire Club, drinking brandy and

trading barbs with Lucien and Lady Amelie Foxworth. The lady shared the men's

interest in the perverse. Since her husband's death, she'd been a private client of

Lucien's, sans the requisite fucking that always followed the thrashing she received

every Thursday.

A knock interrupted a particular bawdy story her ladyship was telling. Lucien

caught his breath from his laughter, and yelled, "Yes."

Marjorie poked her head around the door. "Lord Wycroft, the lady is in the

Queen's Room."

"Thank you," Prentice said. He swallowed the last of the brandy, and stood.

"What does she want?" Lucien asked.

Prentice walked to the fireplace, realizing he'd never bothered to ask the lady

precisely that question. "Dunno. Claims she wishes to submit. I'll see what stamina she

has. Later, I'll show her some of the rougher games, and see what her limits are."

"Good man. Well, Amelie, I believe your arse is in need of some color, is it not?"

"It needs a good fucking, as well."

"Haynes is waiting, as always. Come, the room is prepared."

Left alone, Prentice gathered his wits and prepared for his first session with Mrs.

Huntington. His hands longed to spank her, much more than they should.

He removed his coat, leaving it draped over the sofa arm. As he walked to the

Queen's room, he rolled his billowing shirt sleeves up to his elbows. His long legs made

short work of the distance, the red carpet muffling the sounds of his steps.

Upon opening the door, he saw her rubbing her hand over a paddle. She started,

as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. He quietly made his way to her

over the Turkish carpet that covered the polished wooden floor. A clock ticked. The fire

crackled, much as the electricity between them.

He removed the wooden implement from her hand and brushed his fingers over

the dark, glossy wood; the handle carved to resemble a woman's torso. He raked his

hooded gaze over her hands then lifted his head to meet her eyes. He'd taken on the

persona of master.

"Am I to infer you have chosen the paddle to begin with?"

"It is rather interesting, is it not? I've never seen a paddle with holes in it before."

"Yes, it is a thing of beauty. Air passing through the holes allow for a greater

sting
."

She licked her bottom lip. "It is beautiful."

"There are rules to which you will adhere. I don't ever want to walk into a room

and find you handling my tools."

She looked nervous, which was his intention. "When I send for you, it will

always be as it was today. You will meet with Marjorie, who will ready you as I have

instructed. You have no authority to countermand me, and, if you do, Marjorie will

report it, much as she did your hesitation today. When I enter the room, you will be

naked and prepared to obey. Is that understood?"

Desiree's heart raced as Prentice's dark, velvety voice surrounded her with

unease. He was calm, almost too much so, but, at the same time, threatening. Was he

angry? She couldn't tell.

"I understand, sir. I am sorry."

"As I recall, you have been rather impertinent, an offense I rather enjoy

punishing."

"So you said at our last meeting."

"You will come to crave these meetings, Mrs. Huntington; however, they will

always be at my behest, not yours."

His deep baritone was even, with just a hint of inflection. As he set down the

rules of their association, she found herself lulled into his web. The implied seduction in

his voice held promise and yet had an air of something truly fearful. The threat gave the

experience an enticing edge.

"You are still dressed, which has earned you an extra little punishment."He gave

her a wry smile.

To her disgust, her hands shook as she untied the satin bow that held the

wrapper closed. He towered over her, his arms crossed over his chest, his legs apart. He

looked like a torturously handsome pirate, and his topaz eyes bored through her as she

revealed more and more of her body.

She sensed his impatience, and quickly allowed the nightrail to drop to the floor.

He began a slow walk around her. "By your actions, you have given me

permission to do this, have you not?"

He touched her breast, squeezing the nipple hard, but she didn't permit herself

to flinch. "Yes, I have."

"Very good. I will seduce your body with the pain of the spanking just as I will

seduce your mind until you cannot live without the lash. Sexual congress will never

again be complete for you without the pain."

She knew what he said was true. She was wet simply with his words. She prayed

she could do what needed to be done. Her body wanted all he offered.

"Tell me what you want from our meetings, Desiree, and be mindful that I want

to hear
exactly
what you want." He continued to circle her, touching her at will.

"I want to feel the paddle."

"Where, here?" He swatted her leg.

"No."

"All right, then, here?"

She felt the sting on her arm. "No, sir, I want to feel the paddle on my bottom."

"Don't dissemble with me, Mrs. Huntington. I am incapable of deciphering

feminine euphemisms."

"I want you to spank my arse."

"Now, we are getting somewhere."

She realized she didn't feel at all self-conscious.

Prentice knelt behind her and touched her buttocks. Desiree closed her eyes and

savored the attention.

"I will warm you up with my hand. Bend over the bed."

Though he didn't strike her with any force, the sound of his hand on her skin

reverberated throughout the room. He alternated cheeks, being sure to cover her seat,

and the tender underside of each mound.

"You know, I have always had a fascination with the feminine ass. Since ladies

spend an inordinate amount of time swaying it back and forth, trying to garner a

gentleman's attention, it seems rather fitting that we should spend some time exploring

that ass."

Desiree's gut seized. What could he mean?

He rubbed over his handiwork, playing with the crease between her cheeks. She

flinched, earning her a sharp swat with his hand.

"Implicit permission or am I wrong?"

"No sir, you are not wrong."

"Spread your legs wide for me, and keep them spread."

Desiree did as he bid. Excitement and fear, in equal measure, suffused her body.

She felt the paddle being dragged across her arse, followed by light taps upon her

tender skin. Without warning, he let fly with the first strike. She'd been unable to clench

her cheeks, in order to harden them against the assault. She breathed a soft sigh. The

first blow hadn't hurt nearly as much as she'd thought. The second, however, delivered

to the underside of the left buttock, forced a loud breath from her lungs.

She absorbed the stinging swats as they were laid over the previous strikes, and

the feeling was glorious. An all-encompassing glow, radiating from her stomach,

touching all parts of her, replaced the pain.

The throbbing of her sexual arousal became unbearable. Between each spank,

Prentice stopped and rubbed her arse, his hand dipping into her drenched folds. Just as

she'd move to get closer, he'd move away and strike again.

She hated herself for enjoying his attentions, but wanted more.

"You took that quite well."

His praise brought a rush of warmth.

He took her elbow and helped her up, but instead of pulling her into an embrace,

he walked away.

"You may dress now." His voice held a note of strange detachment, with nary a

trace of the velvety softness it held earlier.

"That's all?"

He chuckled. "Do you mean you want me to continue wailing on your ass until

you can't walk?"

"No, but I thought there'd be more."

"Well there isn't."