Seducing the Master (An Erotic Historical in the Red Chrysanthemum Series) (19 page)

“The ideal safety word consists of but one
syllable,” Charles acknowledged, “but I will make an exception for
Miss Terrell, as she has protested the need to have one at
all.”

“Indeed?” said Wendlesson, intrigued.

“Let us commence.”

Gallant opened the book and held it before
Terrell. She groaned silently. She had hoped to prove to Master
Gallant that she could be a dutiful submissive. Now she could
not.

“You may begin at the top of the page, Miss
Terrell,” he instructed.

“Miss Katherine is undoubtedly superior at
reading, Master Gallant,” Terrell replied, keeping her eyes
downcast.

“She will have her turn.”

He waited with book in hand. She glanced at
the page with the small type. She recognized a few words from
sight, but to string them together in a sentence would be no easy
task. She could hear the awkward, stilted manner in which she would
read. She could see the look of disappointment, disgust or pity
upon their faces. Many a man or woman could not read, but they were
of the lower classes. Slaves certainly did not read, but she had
not been a slave in some time. She had been a courtesan to
gentlemen, peers even, and to members of the
ton
. And she
had every intention of returning to that society.

“Did Master not have his fill of reading
last night?”

She kept her eyes averted, but she sensed
him frown and doubted he had forgotten how he had disciplined her
last night with much reading. She would suffer it again if she had
to.

“I believe she defies you, Master Gallant,”
Wendlesson remarked.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Y
es,” Charles agreed,
displeased, “but I will not permit her punishment to consume what
precious little time we have.”

“Why not?”

“She will receive her due when I am ready to
give it.”

“But she could serve as an example of the
consequences of disobedience.”

“I would we place greater emphasis on the
rewards of obedience to start with.” He turned to the viscountess.
“The top of the page, Miss Katherine.”

It seemed Miss Terrell breathed a breath of
relief when Miss Katherine accepted the book from him. He did not
understand the obstinacy of the former, lest she was deliberately
attempting to provoke him into punishing her. Had she not boasted
she could be the perfect submissive? He shook his head, recalling
how Miss Greta had once promised him perfection, then broke that
promise within days.

“‘Presently, when they had exchanged a few
kisses, and questions in broken English on one side, he began to
unbutton, and, in fine, stript unto his shirt.

‘As if this had been the signal agreed on
for pulling off all their clothes, a scheme which the heat of the
season perfectly favored, Polly began to draw her pins, and as she
had no stays to unlace, she was in a trice, with her gallant's
officious assistance, undressed to all but her shift.

‘When he saw this, his breeches were
immediately loosened, waist and knee bands, and slipped over his
ankles, clean off; his shirt collar was unbuttoned too: then, first
giving Polly an encouraging kiss, he stole, as it were, the shift
off the girl, who being, I suppose, broke and familiarized to this
humour, blushed indeed, but less than I did at the apparition of
her, now standing stark naked, just as she came out of the hands of
pure nature, with her black hair loose and a-float down her
dazzling white neck and shoulders, whilst the deepened carnation of
her cheeks went off gradually into the hue of glazed snow: for such
were the blended tints polish of her skin.’”

Miss Katherine had slowed her reading pace,
and a flush had crept into her cheeks. Her husband grunted and
rubbed the bulge at his crotch. Miss Terrell’s breath had grown
uneven.

“‘This girl could not be above eighteen: her
face regular and sweet featured, her shape exquisite; nor could I
help envying her two ripe enchanting breasts, finely plumped out in
flesh, but withal so round, so firm, that they sustained
themselves, in scorn of any stay: then their nipples, pointing
different ways, marked their pleasing separation; beneath them lay
the delicious tract of the belly, which terminated in a parting of
rift scarce discerning, that modesty seemed to retire downward, and
seek shelter between two plump fleshy thighs: the curling hair that
overspread its delightful front, clothed it with the richest sable
fur in the universe: in short, she was evidently a subject for the
painters to court her, sitting to them for a pattern female beauty,
in all the true pride and pomp of nakedness.’”

“Well done, Miss Katherine,” he said. During
her narration, he had gone to the sideboard and retrieved the red
silk scarves he had used yester evening, along with two cords of
rope. He went to the chair and drew it toward her. “Miss Katherine,
pray have a seat.”

Thinking he might repeat the event of the
prior night, Miss Katherine sat in the chair and gripped its
arms.

He went to stand before Miss Terrell. “On
your feet.”

She obeyed without question this time.

“You will sit.”

She looked about the room for another
chair.

“Upon the bed,” he clarified.

He saw that this pleased her. She went
straightway and sat, not on the edge, but boldly in the center with
both legs upon the bedclothes. He looked at the headboard, styled
in the rococo fashion. Scarf in hand, he wrapped it over her eyes
and tied it behind her head.

“Does the deprivation of sight distress you,
Miss Terrell?” he asked.

“No, Master.”

“Do you recall your safety word?”

“I shall not require it.”

In truth, no woman had ever needed the use
of her safety word with him. He was far too attuned to their
responses, their limits, and knew when to withdraw. But Miss
Terrell did not know this. For her to make an assertion discounting
the need for a safety word was mere foolish bravado. A small part
of him was tempted to prove her wrong.

He stood on one side of the bed. “Lay down,
closer toward me.”

When she did as told, he wound one of the
ropes through the intricate filigree atop the headboard. He pulled
her left hand overhead and tied the rope about the wrist, then
bound the other end of the rope to the right wrist.

“How do you fare, Miss Terrell?”

“Quite well, Master Gallant.”

“You are not afraid?”

“No, Master Gallant. I trust in you.”

“Trust is critical,” Charles said, for the
benefit of the viscount. “If you did not trust me, you would be
frightened.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Fear can titillate,” said Wendlesson.

“Not if it overwhelms trust,” Charles
replied.

Charles looked to Miss Katherine to see that
she was at ease, but she did inhale sharply when he went to the
sideboard and returned with a long braided crop. He slid the side
of the crop gently up Miss Terrell’s bare arm. Her lips parted and
she sighed softly. He tried to remain impervious to the sight of
her bound to the bed. This was for instruction purposes only.

Or so he told himself.

“Do you know what I have in hand, Miss
Terrell?” he inquired.

“A crop, I hazard. Master.”

“Do you wish your blindfold removed?”

“No, Master.”

“Why not?”

“I prefer not to have the distraction of
sight, that my body may fully contemplate what you are to do to
me.”

Good. It was the answer he wished for.

“And your restraints? Do you feel
helpless?”

“Helpless yet safe, Master Gallant.”

Satisfied, he drew the tip of the crop
across her chest and down the cleavage of her breasts. Though a
modest fire crackled in the hearth, the room had grown warm. He
trailed the crop past her abdomen and down a leg to her foot and
over the toes. He tapped the crop lightly to the arch in her foot.
She gasped, no doubt knowing how sensitive the bottoms of the feet
could be. He brushed the side of the crop along the inside of the
leg, and she purred. Using the crop, he pushed her skirts up to her
thighs. He glanced over at Miss Katherine, who watched intently but
without apparent apprehension.

“Do you recall your safety word, Miss
Terrell?”

“No, Master Gallant.”

He snapped the crop at the inside of her
thigh. She yelped.

“Try, Miss Terrell.”

“Umm, submission.”

He struck her again. She yelped louder.

“Obedience.”

“Much better.”

For a moment, he had worried she might have
intentionally forgotten in an attempt to force his hand and bring
about her punishment. He had no desire to frighten Miss Katherine.
He understood how she might have perceived the Red Chrysanthemum if
she had not been properly introduced to its practices. Though he
had been warned of the activities that took place at the inn, the
sights and sounds had still managed to shock him his first time
here.

“You are lenient with her,” the viscount
said. “I vow she would never dare forget her safety word if you had
a heavier hand.”

His lordship eyed Miss Terrell with obvious
hungry. Charles felt an odd possessiveness stir inside him. He
wanted to warn the man against showing too much interest in anyone
but his wife.

“My actions were sufficient,” Charles
replied. He returned his attention to Miss Terrell, his gaze
traversing the peaks and valleys of her body. His hand tightened
about the crop as he imagined her squirming and writhing beneath
his blows.

“Will my lord read next?” he asked.

“Me?”

“I would Miss Katherine be free to observe
Miss Terrell.”

“Very well.”

Wendlesson received the book from his wife
with little enthusiasm and commenced reading. “‘The young Italian
(still in his shirt) stood gazing and transported at the sight of
beauties that might have fired a dying hermit; his eager eyes
devoured her, as she shifted attitudes at his discretion: neither
were his hands excluded their share of the high feast, but
wandered, on the hunt of pleasure, over every part and inch of her
body, so qualified to afford the most exquisite sense of it.

‘In the mean time, one could not help
observing the swell of his shirt before, that bolstered out, and
pointed out the condition of things behind the curtain: but he soon
removed it, by slipping his shirt over his head; and now, as to
nakedness, they had nothing to reproach one another.’”

Charles noticed Miss Terrell to press her
thighs together. “Are you aroused, Miss Terrell?”

“Mmmm,” she purred. “The author paints a
vivid scene.”

She rolled her hips a little and lifted her
left knee. The skirts fell toward her hips, exposing her flank
nicely.

“Do you wish to touch yourself, as you had
done last night?”

“I wish to be touched, Master.”

He touched her with the crop.

“Pray continue, your lordship,” he said to
Wendlesson. As the viscount read, he rapped the crop against her
exposed thigh.

“‘Then his grand movement, which seemed to
rise out of a thicket of curling hair, that spread from the root
all over his thighs and belly up to the navel, stood stiff and
upright, but of a size to frighten me, by sympathy for the small
tender part which was the object of its fury, and which now lay
exposed to my fairest view; for he had, immediately on stoppings
off his shirt, gently pushed her down on the couch, which stood
conveniently to break her willing fall. Her thighs were spread out
to their utmost extension, and discovered between them the mark of
the sex, the red-centered cleft of flesh, whose lips vermillioning
inwards, expressed a small ruby line in sweet miniature, such as
Guide's touch or colouring: could never attain to the life or
delicacy of.’”

Charles pulled the crop back and snapped the
side of it to her thigh. She let out a gasping cry.

“Thank you, Master.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Terrell.” Seeing a
mystified expression upon Miss Katherine, he asked Miss Terrell,
“Did that please you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Did the strike of the crop not smart?”

“It did, Master Gallant.”

“Yet you welcome it.”

“Indeed. I felt my body at attention,
Master.”

“It did not diminish your arousal?”

“Not at all. His lordship reads well.”

Charles turned to Wendlesson. “Will you
oblige?”

The viscount, who had been staring at Miss
Terrell as if he had forgotten the presence of his wife, nodded and
continued.

“‘Phoebe, at this, gave me a gentle jog, to
prepare me for a whisper question: "Whether I thought my little
maiden-head was much less?" But my attention was too much
engrossed, too much inwrapped with all I saw, to be able to give
her any answer.

‘By this time the young gentleman had
changed her posture from lying breadth to length-wise on the coach:
but her thighs were still spread, and the mark lay fair for him,
who now kneeling between them, displayed to us a side view of that
fierce erect machine of his, which threatened no less than
splitting the tender victim, who lay smiling at the uplifted
stroke, nor seemed to decline it. He looked upon his weapon himself
with some pleasure, and guiding it with his hand to the inviting
slit, drew aside the lips, and lodged it (after some thrusts, which
Polly seemed even to assist) about half way; but there it stuck, I
suppose from its growing thickness: he draws it again, and just
wetting it with spittle, re-enters, and with ease sheathed it now
up to the hilt, at which Polly gave a deep sigh, which was quite
another tone than one of pain; he thrusts, she heaves, at first
gently, and in a regular cadence; but presently the transport began
to be too violent to observe any order or measure; their motions
were too rapid, their kisses too fierce and fervent for nature to
support such fury long: both seemed to me out of themselves: their
eyes darted fires: "Oh! oh! I can't bear it. It is too much. I die.
I am going," were Polly's expressions of ecstasy: his joys were
more silent: but soon broken murmurs, sighs heart-fetched, and at
length a dispatching thrust, as if he would have forced himself up
her body, and then the motionless languor of all his limbs, all
shewed that the die-away moment was come upon him; which she gave
signs of joining with by the wild throwing of her hands about,
closing her eyes, and giving a deep sob, in which she seemed to
expire in an agony of bliss.’”