To Disappear (2 page)

Kruin ran his hands experimentally over the globes of Lydia’s bottom, his darkly tanned fingers a striking contrast to the pale mounds before him. His fingers dug into the fleshy cushions as if testing their resilience and strength.

To her shock, tears crowded Lydia’s throat, but she resolutely forced them aside, telling herself that nothing could be worse than what she would have had to face in public.

Kruin squeezed her buttocks, and then pulled them apart to expose more fully the shadowy cleft and the puckered ring of her anus. Lydia pressed her body against the table almost desperately, as if she could sink into the wooden depths and hide from what was happening to her.

Kruin proclaimed her ‘firm enough’ to react well to punishment, and then, to Lydia’s further horror, he trailed one large finger down the delectable valley of her bottom. His touch was clinical and completely impersonal, as if she were a piece of merchandise he was thinking of purchasing. His forefinger paused at the dark aperture and probed.

Lydia gasped. Her entire body strained against the invasion, earning a mutter of disgust from the muscular man.

‘She is far too resisting.’

‘She will learn quickly.’ Preston didn’t sound particularly concerned.

Even through her haze of embarrassment and anger, Lydia comprehended the permanence of his words. Yes, she hated Preston for forcing her to make the choice, but it was too late now.

Now, in this rambling, antiquated house with three men, she was enslaved. Now she was only Lydia.

She closed her eyes against the memory of her first night and breathed in deeply the assorted fragrances of the garden. A breeze drifted up between her parted legs and tickled her bared sex.

She wore nothing underneath her loose cotton dress, not even the soft down of her body’s natural covering, for that had been deemed by Kruin to be far too abundant. Also, he had claimed that her innate defiance required curtailing as soon as possible. The shaving had taken place on her first morning, after they finished their examination of her body and allowed her to retire to her room.

Gabriel came in early the next morning, just as dawn was beginning to spill through the curtains covering the French doors. Lydia found no clothing in the closet and had resigned herself to sleeping in her skirt and blouse from the previous night, which disappointed Gabriel when he arrived to waken her.

‘Always sleep naked unless one of us tells you otherwise,’ he murmured, his words softly reproachful.

To her confused surprise, Lydia experienced a pang of regret that she had displeased him, but she attributed her emotions to Gabriel’s soft-spoken manner rather than a hidden desire to obey.

Gabriel waited in the bedroom while she showered, wrapping herself in a thin cotton robe that was hanging on the back of the door. Her eyes were questioning as she rejoined Gabriel, although all he did was take her hand and lead her downstairs to the dining room.

An immense walnut dining table dominated the room, along with at least two-dozen embroidered chairs. Lydia, who had been expecting breakfast, was confronted with the sight of Kruin and Preston sitting at the table, and she hadn’t comprehended the situation until she saw the lathering stick, bowl of water, and razor lying at Kruin’s elbow.

Startled, she took a step backwards, her wrist tightening against Gabriel’s grip. The three men had favored her with simultaneous glares, which served to impale her to the spot.

Her heart thrummed like a taut instrument in her chest as she followed Preston’s instruction to dispose of her robe, revealing her freshly washed body, pearls of dampness still clinging to her skin. Her nipples tightened in response to the cool morning air, providing the three men with an enticing image of the ways in which they might attend to her breasts at a later date.

Lydia started to protest that she could do the shaving herself, for she was fairly faint with nerves at the thought of any one of these men taking a sharp razor to her delicate folds. The cavernous space of the dining room gave the act an edge of impersonality that made her want to turn and run, but her protest died in her throat when Preston’s expression hardened, although her eyes flashed rebelliously at him as Gabriel assisted her onto the table.

She had hoped it would be Gabriel who would do the actual shearing. He appeared to have the patience to do a careful job without allowing the razor to slip, but instead it was Preston who settled into a chair in front of her and gave her a charming smile.

‘You didn’t think I would relinquish this job to someone else, did you?’ he asked, as if reading her thoughts. ‘Something I have been anticipating with great delectation?’

‘I imagine you’ve been anticipating many things with great delectation,’ Lydia muttered.

Preston gave a laugh of delight. ‘How right you are, my haughty Lydia. You have no idea how many times during our childhood I have longed to see you debased.’

Lydia closed her eyes against the stark reality that he now had the power to debase her in any number of ways. She felt his hands on her inner thighs, pressing her legs apart so that she was fully exposed to their view.

The lush, dark curls between her legs were still damp from her shower, glistening in the light from the overhead chandelier. Preston picked up a pair of scissors and began a thorough trimming of her vulva, each snip of the blades causing her to draw in a sharp breath until Kruin remarked mildly that she had better lie still or risk injury.

Preston’s scissors clipped so close to Lydia’s outer labia that she felt the coldness of the blade against her skin. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she silently prayed that he wouldn’t damage her most vulnerable areas.

When Preston was satisfied with the closeness of the cut, he sprinkled more water on her before he scooped up a handful of lather and began to massage it into her mons. Lydia jerked in response to his touch after the fright of the sharp steel.

Preston took his time stroking the lather against her vulva, amusing them all by sliding his finger down the soft folds of her labia. Foam dampened his fingers, along with a viscous moisture that made him chuckle softly. The nub of Lydia’s clitoris swelled in response to his sensual ministrations, and as he trailed the tip of one finger around the hard knot, Lydia began to pant.

Her eyes were tightly closed again, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her skin flaming with mortification over the sensations winding through her body and the method by which those sensations were being evoked.

Preston picked up the razor and positioned it at the top of her downy triangle. Her eyes flew open when she felt the edge of the blade, but a warning look from Kruin made her clench her teeth and force herself to endure this indignity. Gabriel gave her a slight smile before moving around to obtain a better view of the proceedings. His own excitement already pressed against the front of his trousers.

With great pleasure, Preston drew the razor over Lydia’s mons, leaving behind a path of silky smooth skin that carried the promise of delectable sensations. He was careful to shear every last hair away before moving down to her labia, which proved more awkward and difficult to barber. Preston, however, was not without experience when it came to erotic shaving. Had Lydia known this, she might have been somewhat comforted, but as it was she suffered in tense silence as he alternately stroked the razor over her plump lips and ducked the blade in water to cleanse it.

Kruin’s large hands closed around Lydia’s ankles, startling her as he lifted her legs off the table to allow Preston easier access to the hairs that sprouted further down. Lydia’s face flamed with humiliation at this further insult, but she didn’t dare move for fear that the steel blade would slip.

Preston removed her hairs with a precision that rivaled that of a master barber, then put the razor aside and reached for a small bottle of oil. Lydia opened her eyes when she no longer felt the rasp of the blade and tried to pull her ankles out of Kruin’s inexorable grip.

From his position behind Preston, he gave her a searing look that warned her to be still. Lydia glared at him, her legs straining as she fought his strength, fought to free herself from the shame of her position and what she had endured.

‘Lydia.’ Preston’s sharp voice cracked through the air like a whip.

‘Let me go’ Lydia complained, unable to stop herself as a rush of relieved adrenaline rushed through her. She pushed her torso up, her legs kicking at Kruin.

‘Stop!’ Gabriel’s arm clamped like a steel band around her ribcage. His features hardened with uncharacteristic irritation as he glowered down at her, his green eyes like chips of sea glass. ‘This is completely inappropriate, Lydia. Stop it right now.’

Lydia stilled, her breathing hard, her entire being aflame with rebellion and the need to be free.

‘You made the choice, Lydia.’ Preston looked disgusted with her display. ‘Don’t act like we’re subjecting you to something you didn’t agree to.’

‘I didn’t agree to this,’ she said coldly.

A deadly silence settled in the room, a silence edged with an ominous sense of danger.

‘Excuse me?’ Preston said, his voice eerily soft. ‘What did you say?’

Lydia’s teeth sank into the plump fullness of her lower lip. She sensed immediately that no other words she might have uttered would have been received with such displeasure. She closed her eyes as the fight drained from her, and when Preston repeated his query, she shook her head.

‘Nothing. I did agree to this.’

The horrid thing was, she had agreed, had willingly walked through the door with the knowledge that they would do with her as they liked. And, in exchange, she would have her anonymity.

The silence hung for several minutes before Preston resumed his task. He dispensed a small puddle of oil onto his fingertips and began rubbing it into the cleanly shaven areas of Lydia’s vulva. Her body twitched in response as his fingers slipped once again into the damp folds of her sex, only this time with far more calculating movements.

With a start she felt her clitoris throb, a tight circle of pleasure that began to wrap around her loins. She struggled against the sensations, even as Preston’s finger slid into the wetness of her vagina, even as she was aware that three men were watching her dispassionately when she began to gasp for breath and writhe on the table.

A moan escaped her parted lips as Preston began rubbing the sensitive bud of her clitoris, his fingers splaying over it to pull up the protective hood. And then pleasure crashed over Lydia’s body, her hips pumping involuntarily as she rode out her rapture in front of them all.

Kruin released her ankles, letting her thighs fall limply to the sides as shame crept in to overpower her pleasure.

‘We will excuse your wantonness this time,’ Preston said. ‘In fact, for now you may take your physical pleasure. However, be aware, Lydia, that you will soon not be allowed to experience an orgasm without our permission. Not in front of us, and certainly not alone. And lest you think otherwise, you should know that any self-gratification will be exceedingly obvious to us all. Is that quite clear?’

Lydia nodded, unable to look at any of them. Her smooth, shaven vulva glistened with oil, and Gabriel brought a mirror so she could view Preston’s handiwork for herself. The sight of her bare triangle caused her to burn with mortification, for now she was utterly revealed, her modest concealment removed to expose every aspect of her secret charms.

When had that taken place? Lydia thought as she sat in the afternoon warmth of the garden. Yesterday, or the day before? She tried to calculate how long it might be before another shaving was in order, since Kruin had informed her in his emotionless manner that she would be kept bare for the duration of her stay. Which, as she well knew, was indefinite.

She let out her breath in a long sigh. However long it took, she had no doubt that one of the three men would appear to whisk away the offending stubble as soon as it was discovered.

In truth, Lydia was currently rather enjoying her bare state, as the gentle breezes were causing the most delicious sensations to play against her sex, cooling the humid warmth that gathered there as a result of the Louisiana heat.

Her comfort level had increased significantly when Preston informed her that she was to wear no underclothes. The loose cotton dresses Gabriel furnished for her proved to be quite luxurious. Air drifted underneath the hem constantly, and her unfettered breasts swayed with every movement, giving a feeling of unconstrained freedom previously foreign to her senses.

‘Lunch, Lydia.’

Recognizing Gabriel’s voice, she stood and walked towards the house. He was waiting for her on the veranda, dressed in a pair of dark trousers and an open-necked, navy shirt that made his green eyes seem almost crystalline.

‘You can walk around the grounds, you know,’ he said.

Lydia nodded, for they both knew there was no escape. She almost smiled. How could there even be an escape for something into which she had willingly entered?

No one, not even Preston, had forbidden her from leaving the confines of the house or the plantation grounds. And yet she was still utterly trapped, her criminal activities having led her to this place that reeked of depraved sexuality.

She glanced at Gabriel, the aesthetic side of herself appreciating the sharp, handsome planes of his face, the dark arch of his eyebrows over emerald eyes, the masculine sensuality of his mouth. She wanted to ask him how he had become involved with Preston, how he had arrived at
La Lierre et le Chêne
, but she was wary of attempting to delve too deeply.