Mastering the Marquess (43 page)

No, the only fear that she’d felt when she was with him was fear of herself, fear that she
really did like what he did to her, that nothing aroused her more than obeying his command, than submitting to him.

Submit.

That word again.

But that was so different from this. It was hard to explain, even to herself, why that was so, but it was.

She trusted her husband, trusted Geoffrey. He would never hurt her, would never do something she did not like.

And she did not like this, did not like it at all.

Would it have been different if Geoffrey had been the one doing it: had been the one to stretch her naked flesh over the bars and run his elegant fingers over her skin; had been the one to pop her nipples out of the corset; if it had been his hands that checked her bonds. And he would have checked, would have made sure that she was not discomforted—at least not more than he wished. The Countess had pulled each bond tight, uncaring of rough rope biting into skin. And when her chilled fingers had run across one naked buttock, Louisa had felt nothing but disgust.

How could one woman do this to another?

Geoffrey. She would think of Geoffrey—not of what they did together, but of that first smile when he awoke and saw her in the morning, of how the shafts of sunlight lit his features, making him look far younger than usual. And she could think of him asleep, of the innocence of angels lying across his features.

“You have a very pretty cunt.” The Countess’s voice came from behind.

Louisa had worked hard to pretend that she wasn’t there, wasn’t looking at places that only Geoffrey had ever seen, that she wasn’t standing there just staring.

“Many women don’t have pretty ones,” the Countess continued. “It’s so hard to be sure. The most beautiful of women can be quite fleshy and hairy. I like a bit of hair, but not too much. I’ve known many men who don’t like hair at all, that insist it all be shaved away. That can be quite an experience by itself. Would you like to be shaved? I’ve never tried it, but I imagine I could learn to wield a razor quite well. Or perhaps hot wax. It does pull and sting as it rips the hair from you, but it leaves you smoother than a newborn babe.”

Louisa bit down on her lower lip—hard. She would not scream, and certainly not as a
result of mere words.

“Look straight ahead. Do not look back at me. A proper toy does not look at her master. And I am your master, for all I prefer my title. I can always put blinders on you—yes, just like a horse. I’ve a rather nice pair in one of those drawers. Or perhaps a blindfold? Would you like a blindfold? There is something about uncertainty, about not knowing what will happen, that increases anticipation. And I do like anticipation.”

The Countess stepped nearer. Louisa could hear the click of her heels upon the boards of the floor.

A cool hand settled on one of her buttocks—and then the Countess’s other hand traced slowly down her cleft.

“Has he ever fucked you here?” A long nail traced Louisa’s nether hole. “He always did like that. He was not obsessed with it as some men can be, but he did like the tightness of a good ass fuck.”

Do not show response. Do not show response
. Louisa wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but it did. She refused to give the Countess any response that she could withhold. Her stomach might be churning with acid and terror, but she was determined that no one would ever know.

She tried again to concentrate on the memory of Geoffrey’s smile. She would not think about anything else.

“No, I don’t believe he ever did fuck you there, although I bet he wanted to, was working up to it.” The Countess pushed upon the tight closure. “Perhaps I should do him a favor and put in a plug. I have some nice large ones. They will fill you so completely. My only question is should I give you one with a tail, or perhaps a rosebud. There is something about seeing a rose blooming in a woman’s ass that brings every cock about to a full stand. I’ve never quite understood it myself, but they seem to find it irresistible. I am not sure I ever tried it with Geoffrey. How do you think he’d feel walking through that door and seeing you here, a rose at full bloom just waiting for him?”

Louisa kept her lips tight shut, refused to let her mind dwell on the Countess’s questions. They were meant to cause misery, and Louisa would not give her that power.

“You will learn to answer my every question soon. Do not think you will escape my punishment.” The Countess ran her finger farther down, dipping it between the lower lips. “It’s a
pity you are so dry. I do like a woman who shows her appreciation of my efforts. It makes everything so much easier for us all.”

Before Louisa could even think about that, the Countess pulled back and then brought her hand down in a quick, hard slap across Louisa’s behind, a sharp sting spreading from the impact.

“Yes, that’s better. If I don’t get a response one way I will get it another. You should learn to cooperate.” Another slap. “Look how prettily you redden. It gives me so many ideas.”

“Tell me, why are you doing this? What have I ever done to you?”

The Countess moved so that Louisa could see her deep red skirts. Craning her head up, Louisa stared into the cold face.

“Say please. ‘Please, my dear Countess.’ ”

What did the woman want? Did she take pleasure in this humiliation? Yes, she did.

Walking over to the wall, the Countess picked up a heavy crop. “Do I have to ask you again? You will say it. It is up to you how it happens.”

“Please, my dear Countess.” Louisa wanted to choke on the words, “Tell me why you are doing this.”

“First, because I can and because I enjoy it. There is nothing like having another woman submit to my command. And second, because your husband, my sweet Geoffrey, made it a necessity. I might not have selected you if he had given me any choice in the matter.”

“Forgive me, my dear Countess, but I do not understand.”

The Countess raised the crop and smacked it against her palm, the crack echoing in the small room. “It is not often that God makes a woman intelligent
and
beautiful. You should be thankful for the favors he granted you.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“That does sound sweet from your soft lips.” The Countess walked back and rested her palm upon Louisa’s cheek, before running her fingers over her lips. “But do remember, address me as ‘Countess,’ or ‘my dear Countess.’ For anything else you will be punished.” She pulled back slightly and held out her hand. Louisa could see the growing welt that ran across the Countess’s palm. “I have always found joy in pain, whether giving or receiving. It is so freeing, so cleansing. Now kiss my palm better—and use your tongue.”

Could she actually do this? Louisa was not sure. Everything in her rebelled at such an action, but what were the options? With dry lips, she laid the lightest of kisses upon the palm.
The hand held there, inches from her face.

Louisa could not bring herself to lick it.

It held there for another moment, and then the Countess swirled, walking over to one of the high dressers, placing the crop on it, and pulling out a drawer. “I have whipped asses raw for less insult. And do not fear: Yours will bleed before the night is over. I would do it now, but I want to preserve that virgin skin for a while longer.”

“You still have not fully explained why I am here?” Louisa asked, trying again to distract the Countess. She did not know what was in that drawer, and she had no desire to find out.

The Countess turned back, but did not answer. Something dangled from her hand—Louisa could not determine what—as she stood still, waiting.

“Please, my dear Countess.”

“So much better. And I will indulge you, for you will not be speaking in a moment.” The Countess moved her hand, and a ball on a cord swung back and forth. “Geoffrey spurned me without cause, and he must pay. You are the currency of that payment. The foolish man did not understand the bond we shared. He did not understand all that I offered him.”

“I am sorry, my dear Countess.” Louisa could not take her eyes off the swinging ball. It looked like a child’s toy. And was that a large ring on a cord beside it? Louisa’s imagination was not up to the task of understanding what they were for.

The Countess smiled. “I begin to understand why Geoffrey is besotted with you. You learn quickly. I do hope he has taught you that once earned, punishments must always be given.” She swung the ball again. “Yes, Geoffrey did not understand that we are meant to be together, and so I must teach him. I may let you join in, too; there is attraction in such an arrangement. From the first time your husband set his crop to my ass, I knew he was the one. But then he left, and all because I chose the wrong plaything. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain. He refused me, and that must not be allowed. Punishment must come to those who misbehave so that they can learn for the next time.

“Now tell me, do you prefer a ball gag or a ring? I normally like a ball, but I have some interest in working a dildo between those lips while I wait. I wonder just how deep that throat can open. Has Geoffrey—oh, I see from your face that he has; and yet, you still do not understand me. Has he never taken out his toys for you? Would you like me to show you what I mean?” The Countess turned as if to walk back to the chest of drawers. “But no, I promised you
a punishment, and I should not delay too long.”

Louisa closed her eyes and prayed for salvation. She knew there was no hope of rescue—nobody knew where she was going—but still she silently prayed,
Please come find me, Geoffrey. Please do not let this happen
.

“I think the ball gag after all. I can always change it later if the play goes that way.” The Countess grabbed a handful of Louisa’s hair, wrenching her head back violently. Fingers jabbed into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open, and then the ball was there, forced back between her teeth, choking her, no longer in any way a child’s toy, the strap pulled tight behind her head.

“How pretty you look.” The Countess smiled again and patted her cheek. “I do hope you realize that is not your punishment.” She opened her hand and held out two clips with sharp-toothed edges. “They are pretty, and they will adorn your breasts so nicely. I shouldn’t really call them a punishment—later you will know them for a treat—but for the moment I think they shall be quite effective. Oh, and tears
already
. Geoffrey always liked tears, and I must admit to having developed quite a taste for them. And those wide, expressive eyes. I do so love that glint of fear and terror. If your tongue were free I might allow you to lick my cunt—it is quite brimming for you. Have you ever licked another woman’s honey? It can be a little off-putting at first, but I promise you will come to enjoy it.”

Moving to Louisa’s side, the Countess reached down and grasped one of her breasts, her fingers settling about the nipple. “And you haven’t even asked the
big
question, asked why we are waiting and who I am dressing you up for. Your husband is coming. Yes, I have invited sweet Geoffrey, and I am sure he will be here soon. Oh, I do see that that delights you. Now, let’s get you all ready.”

Louisa screamed against the gag as the clamp bit into her.

Chapter Thirty

She was nowhere to be found. Surely even if she had left him there would have been some trace, some note. He might not know his wife as well as he would have liked, but Swanston was sure that she would never wish to cause such worry. Even in the greatest of furies she would have let him know that she was gone, and probably where to.

He’d tried everyone and every place he could think of. He’d had all the coach yards checked and even now had riders heading out to Brookingston’s home to see if she could have returned there. He’d probably send a man to Risusgate as well.

At present, however, it still appeared that she had vanished into the air. He paced across his library for the hundredth time that evening, wishing for some answer to his prayers.

“She will be found,” Duldon said from his seat by the empty hearth. “Ladies do not simply disappear.”

“Not that we know of, but if they just disappeared would we know …”

“Now you are just being dismal. It is bound to be some simple explanation, as it was with your sister. Perhaps she left a note and it got misplaced, or perhaps she simply forgot.”

“Louisa does not forget. It is one of the things that I am most fond of about her. She is almost as well ordered as I. If she meant to leave me a note she would have, and she would have left it someplace it would be found.”

Duldon rolled his eyes with great emphasis. “No wonder you like the woman. I thought it might have something to do with a lovely face and sweet nature, but you probably appreciate how she folds her kerchiefs and that she always has breakfast at the same hour.”

“No, we’ve been rising late recently,” Swanston said, adding his own brand of emphasis to the words. He tried to smile, but knew it fell flat; hiding the worry that ate at his guts was impossible.

There was a loud rap on the door.

“Enter,” he called.

The porter entered, carrying a silver tray on which lay a stiff white envelope. “A lad just dropped this at the door, said it was from a lady.”

Without bothering with an answer, Swanston grabbed the envelope and ripped it open.

“Well?” Duldon stood and walked over. “Is your wife dining with friends?”

Swanston dropped the note to his desk. “I would not say that. It’s from the Countess. She is inviting me to a private party.”

Duldon stalked to the window. “Ignore it then. It is not the time to even consider what to do about that woman.”

“I am afraid I was not clear. The Countess is inviting me to a party with my wife as the guest of honor. She promises I will find it most illuminating.”

“Then let’s be off.”

“She instructs me to come alone. Makes it very clear that it is an exclusive party and that if I bring guests she will change the location.”

Duldon slammed a fist down on the table. “She does not have that type of power and influence.”

“You are right, she does not. However, she is a smart woman and knows I cannot take the chance. And besides, if I involve others I risk exposure not only for myself, but for Louisa. A man can survive almost any scandal, but a woman …”