Seducing the Master (An Erotic Historical in the Red Chrysanthemum Series) (12 page)

“I did,” he acknowledged, and his mind
filled with the possibilities.

He could take a paddle to her backside. But
that might arouse her. Titillation could not factor into her
punishment. Perhaps she would dislike being locked in a cage as
much as Miss Greta had. He could make Miss Terrell stand on one
foot for a period or make her recite catechisms for half an hour.
The consequence needed to be dreary to impress upon her that she
would gain nothing of interest by seeking his attention.

But he saw that delicious rump of hers in
his mind’s eye. There was much he could do. Much he could do
indeed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Y
ou will have to endure
the suspense of waiting,” Master Gallant told Terrell. “This time
belongs to Miss Katherine. You may both of you resume your position
on your knees, with your hands clasped behind your backs.”

Terrell watched as he pulled at his cravat
as if uncomfortable with the neckcloth, but it was also possible
that his discomfort was due to her provocation. She wanted to think
that might be the case. Did the prospect of punishing her arouse
him? He spoke with such calm that she suspected herself to be
mislaying hope. Thus far, he had given little indication that she
ignited his lust. There were whispers of it, though she could not
elucidate why her senses were perked. She knew his sex well enough
to sniff their interest, and Master Gallant was not indifferent to
her, but she knew not if the passion she aroused the most in him
was vexation. She knew not if his desires could overrule his
forbearance.

“Miss Katherine,” Master Gallant addressed
after the two women complied and returned to their knees, “how do
you arouse yourself?”

Miss Katherine flushed to the roots of her
hair. “Am I p-permitted to speak?”

“When I address you, yes.”

“I do not understand.”

“How do you stir the venereal in your
body?”

Her eyes looked to the far corner, then
below as she searched her mind for an answer. “My lord—Master, I do
not think I do anything.”

“Then what arouses you? What titillates
you?”

At a loss, Miss Katherine looked down. “I
was not—I was not taught to think of such matters.”

“You have not felt the warmth of lust when,
perhaps, gazing upon a painting of a nude?”

As he continued to question Miss Katherine,
Terrell looked upon Master Gallant with wonder. She found him
rather verbose for his sex, but his voice had a sensual quality,
and the patience and gentleness in his tone intrigued her. His
attention upon Miss Katherine gave her a reprieve. Her shoulders
ached from the exertion he had demanded from her—she would have
preferred a spanking. Instead, he had made her look ridiculous.

Miss Katherine shook her head in answer to
his question.

“Then let us enlist the aid of Mr. John
Cleland.”

Master Gallant produced a book,
Memoirs
of a Woman of Pleasure
. Miss Katherine stared without
comprehension.

“It is a novel,” he explained, “of an erotic
nature.”

Recognition dawned upon Miss Katherine. “I
thought such books were banned?”

“It was not easy to come by this copy,”
Master Gallant acknowledged. The discoloration of the pages
suggested the book might have been from one of the original
printings.

He opened the book to a certain passage and
presented it to Miss Katherine. “Read the start of the page and
continue till I stop you.”

Miss Katherine took the book from him and
cleared her throat. “‘To slip over minutes of no importance to the
main of my story, I pass the interval to bed time, in which I was
more and more pleased with the views that opened to me, of an easy
service under these good people; and after supper being shewed up
to bed, Miss Phoebe, who observed a kind of reluctance in me to
strip and go to bed, in my shift, before her, now the maid was
withdrawn, came up to me, and beginning with unpinning my
handkerchief and gown, soon encouraged me to go on with undressing
myself; and, blushing at now seeing myself naked to my shift, I
hurried to get under the bed-clothes out of sight.’”

“You read very well, Miss Katherine,”
encouraged Master Gallant. He had taken a seat in the chair facing
the two women, his legs stretched before him. “Pray, continue.”

While Miss Katherine continued to read,
Terrell took occasion to admire Master Gallant and how well his
trousers encased his legs. She knew the shape of his chest, had
liked its chiseled but not burly qualities, for she had seen it
that day he had bound Mistress Scarlet to the table before an
audience of Red Chrysanthemum members. He was a man of privilege,
but his fine figure indicated he was an active gentleman, not one
given to indolence.

“‘No sooner then was this precious
substitute of my mistress laid down’,” read Miss Katherine, “‘but
she, who was never out of her way when any occasion of lewdness
presented itself, turned to me, embraced and kissed me with great
eagerness. This was new, this was odd; but imputing it to nothing
but pure kindness, which, for ought I knew, it might be the London
way to express in that manner, I was determined not to be
behind-hand with her, and returned her the kiss and embrace, with
all the fervour that perfect innocence knew.

“‘Encouraged by this, her hands became
extremely free, and wandered over my whole body…’”

Once more, Miss Katherine grew red in the
face.

Master Gallant raised his brows. “Miss
Katherine?”

“You-you wish me to read further?”

“Yes. Proceed.”

Miss Katherine bit her bottom lip, but read
on. “‘…with touches, squeezes, pressures, that rather warmed and
surprised me with their novelty, than they either shocked or
alarmed me.’”

“Slower.”

“‘The flattering praises she intermingled
with these invasions, contributed also not a little to bribe my
passiveness; and, knowing no ill, I feared none, especially from
one who had prevented all doubts of her womanhood, by conducting my
hands to a pair of breasts that hung loosely down, in a size and
volume that full sufficiently distinguished her sex, to me at
least, who had never made any other comparison.

“‘I lay then all tame and passive as she
could wish, whilst her freedom raised no other emotion but those of
a strange, and, till then, unfelt pleasure. Every part of me was
open and exposed to the licentious courses of her hands, which,
like a lambent fire, ran over my whole body, and thawed all
coldness as they went.’”

Feeling herself grow warm, Terrell closed
her eyes to better envision the imagery that Miss Katherine
painted, amazed at how the words made such a scene unfold, as vivid
as if she were a
voyeur
in the room with Miss Phoebe and the
heroine of the story, Miss Fanny Hill. Terrell recalled her own
encounter many years ago with a woman remarkably like Miss Phoebe.
A fellow slave on the plantation, Miss Ruth had earned her way into
the house.

“‘But, not contented with these outer posts,
she now attempts the main spot, and began to twitch, to insinuate,
and at length to force an introduction of a finger into the quick
itself, in such a manner, that had she not proceeded by insensible
gradations that inflamed me beyond the power of modesty to oppose
its resistance to their progress, I should have jumped out of bed
and cried for help against such strange assaults.

“‘Instead of which, her lascivious touches
had lighted up a new fire that wantoned through all my veins, but
fixed with violence in that center appointed them by nature, where
the first strange hands were now busied in feeling, squeezing,
compressing the lips, then opening them again, with a finger
between, till an "Oh!" expressed her hurting me, where the
narrowness of the unbroken passage refused it entrance to any
depth.

“‘In the meantime, the extension of my
limbs, languid stretching, sighs, short heavings, all conspired to
as-ure that experienced wanton that I was more pleased than
offended at her proceedings, which she seasoned with repeated
kisses and exclamations, such as “Oh! what a charming creature thou
art! What a happy man will he be that first makes a woman of you!
Oh! That I were a man for your sake!” with the like broken
expressions, interrupted by kisses as fierce and salacious as ever
I received from the other sex.

“‘For my part, I was transported, confused,
and out of myself; feelings so new were too much for me. My heated
and alarmed senses were in a tumult that robbed me of all liberty
of thought; tears of pleasure gushed from my eyes, and somewhat
assuaged the fire that raged all over me.’”

“Once more. Those last few sentences.”

Miss Katherine’s hands trembled, and a deep
blush occupied her cheeks, but she did as told. Terrell could see
the passage had unsettled Miss Katherine, in more ways than one.
Sensing the same, Master Gallant rose and lowered the book she
held.

“What sensations inhabit your body at
present?” he asked.

“Sensations?”

“Can you feel the blood course warmly
through your loins?”

Her breath uneven, she gave no answer.

“Can you imagine yourself in Fanny’s place,
being caressed most pleasantly and intimately?”

She shook her head a little. “By another
woman? It is wrong.”

“It may be wanton, but it is not wrong. Or
how would you explain that you are aroused by it?”

Her mouth fell open in distress.

“Allow yourself these natural urges,” he
said. “Do not let shame and judgement hamper their beauty. They are
pleasant, are they not?”

“A little, I suppose.”

“The path they form leads to ecstasy. Does
it not, Miss Terrell?”

Distracted by the licentious agitation
percolating in her body and lulled into a sensual trance by his
speech, Terrell started at the unexpected question directed at
her.

“Yes, Master,” she replied.

He turned back to Miss Katherine. “When you
find yourself in this state, how do you unleash the tension?”

“I-I do not find myself—”

“Do not deceive yourself. You do and you
have, Miss Katherine.”

She knit her brows and looked down. “Once,
before I was married, I did glimpse one of the chambermaids and the
footmen in passionate embrace. I did feel a strange distress
overcome me.”

“And how did you relieve it?”

“I did not. In time, it passed.”

“But it returned.”

She nodded.

“And you did nothing to address it?”

She shook her head.

He turned once more to Terrell. “What would
you have done, Miss Terrell?”

If the footman were handsome, I might
have a go at him myself
, Terrell thought, but not wishing to
appall Miss Katherine, she replied, “It would depend, Master
Gallant, upon the circumstances.”

“Provide one possibility.”

“I might pleasure myself.”

“How?”

“The places Miss Phoebe touched, I would
caress with my own hand.”

He looked at Miss Katherine and gestured to
the chair. “Have a seat, Miss Katherine.”

Her eyes widened in alarm, as if he had
commanded her to undress.

“I merely wish you to be comfortable, as
your knees must desire respite,” he explained.

Relieved, Miss Katherine took a seat.
Terrell could not resist thinking that he would give the only chair
to the viscountess, a woman of his kind, while she, the blackamoor,
continued to kneel upon the floor.

He stepped to the side so that he did not
stand between the two women. “Show us, Miss Terrell.”

Unsure she had heard correctly, she made no
move at first. “Show you…?”

“Show us how you would caress yourself.”

Her pulse quickened. She looked to Miss
Katherine, who did not appear as horrified as expected, then looked
back at Master Gallant.

“Here?” Terrell asked.

“You may assume any position you find
comfortable.”

She sat with the bed against her back.
Slowly, she brought her knees up and attempted to reach beneath the
hem of her skirts.

“Do not hide your treasures,” he bid, rather
grimly for a man about to look upon cunnie.

She thrilled at the opportunity to display
herself wantonly before him but pulled her skirts to her waist with
a pace that might have been mistaken for reluctance. With the
garments bunched at her pelvis, she widened her legs. Miss
Katherine gasped. Terrell wondered how much of her cunnie Master
Gallant could see from where he stood.

“You’ve a lovely cunnie, Miss Terrell.”

“Thank you, Master Gallant,” she replied.
She knew her performance was intended for Miss Katherine, but she
was determined to make him wish he was the sole audience. She put a
hand between her thighs and stroked herself languidly with the
length of her middle finger. From the corners of her eyes, she saw
his jaw harden. With a smile to herself, she pouted her lips and
emitted small groans of pleasure.

“Are you wet, Miss Terrell?” he
inquired.

“Yes, Master Gallant.”

“Show us.”

She parted her folds with her middle and
forefinger, then dipped a digit into the wetness to coat it upon
her clitoris.

“And where are the sensations most
pleasant?”

She circled her finger about the pleasure
bud. Looking at him, she could not believe him unaffected, though
he assumed the detached posture of a surgeon gazing upon a
carcass.

This cunnie could be yours for the
taking
, she told him with her eyes,
yours to do as you
please, to inflict all manner of wicked pleasure.

Having brought herself to spend hundreds of
times before, and with Master Gallant standing but a few feet from
her, it would not take long for her to reach that glorious climax.
She reclined her head against the bed and arched her back. With her
other hand, she groped her own breast. She began to pant and rubbed
herself faster.