Authors: Nina Lane
A knock sounded at the bedroom door, breaking through her thoughts. She unfolded herself from the plush chair, tugging her bathrobe more closely around her body as she went to open the door.
“Good morning.” Gabriel stood in the corridor, his eyes brilliantly green in the light of the rising sun. He wore jeans and a blue, chambray shirt that looked soft and faded from multiple washings. “Your door was locked.”
“Yes, I locked it last night.”
“You’re never to lock your door here,” Gabriel said with a hint of steel as he entered the room. “You should know that by now.”
“I’m sorry. With so many people in the house, I was nervous.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“No, I won’t.”
Gabriel went to the closet and removed a floral, cotton dress, which he tossed onto the bed. “So did you enjoy yourself last night?”
“Not particularly.”
His eyebrows rose. “Not even the slightest bit?”
Lydia thought of Kruin. “Well, there was some good to it, but overall, I found it quite unpleasant.” She couldn’t prevent herself from adding, “I’m sure you don’t feel the same way.”
He didn’t respond, gesturing for her to remove her robe. Lydia slipped the robe from her shoulders and pulled the dress over her head, appreciating the looseness of the lightweight material all the more strongly after her confining costume last night.
“So how did you spend your evening?” Gabriel asked.
Lydia shrugged and went to the dressing table. “Conversing, a bit of dancing, although that dress and corset made it difficult to move. I tried some of the food. And of course Preston subjected me to one of his little scenarios. In front of a group of people, no less.”
Gabriel frowned. “What did he do?”
Lydia grasped the folds of her dress and pulled it over her hips to show him her bruised buttocks. Despite the delivery by several different people, the pattern of welts was lovely and uniform, each red mark splayed evenly across her cheeks and modulated by the stripes of her pale skin.
At any other time, Lydia would have been hesitant and shy about revealing the evidence of her punishment to Gabriel. Yet this morning, she wanted him to see what she had endured while he had been so engrossed with his willing Cleopatra.
Gabriel looked at her welts for a moment without response. Lydia let her dress fall over her hips again to cover herself. She reached for a brush and began stroking it through her hair.
“Kruin was there,” she remarked. “Didn’t he tell you what happened?”
“I haven’t seen him yet,” Gabriel said. “How did you do?”
“It hurt like hell. But I did everything right. Even Kruin said I did well.”
“Really?” He appeared rather impressed. “High praise, indeed.”
Lydia smiled slightly at the memory. “I thought so, too.”
He looked as if he wanted to ask her more about the incident, but then he nodded toward her sandals. “If you’re ready, breakfast is waiting.”
Lydia slipped her feet into her sandals and followed him downstairs. The scents of crisp bacon, rich coffee, and buttery croissants drifted from the kitchen, causing Lydia’s stomach to rumble with hungry anticipation.
She stopped on the staircase when she heard unfamiliar voices emerging from the solarium. Gabriel turned to look at her.
“Who is that?” Lydia asked.
“Just a few of the guests from last night.”
“What?” Lydia stared at him in shock, her hand going to her chest.
“Don’t worry,” Gabriel said reassuringly. “They aren’t wearing masks, but believe me when I tell you they’re more worried about you knowing who they are than the other way around. None of them have any idea who you are.”
“Gabriel, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Gabriel interrupted. “You will. After what you went through last night, you hardly have a reason to hesitate now. I imagine this is mild in comparison.”
“Gabriel, nothing about this situation is mild,” Lydia said.
“I know, but you’ve been handling it quite well so far. You’ll continue to do so.”
He held out his hand. Lydia drew in a deep breath, somewhat reassured by his words. She walked down the stairs and slipped her fingers into his outstretched hand.
Six guests were gathered in the solarium, four men and two women who were all clad in luxurious robes. They sat around the table in languid comfort, sipping dark, fragrant French Roast coffee and rising to fill their plates from serving trays set out on the sideboard.
There were platters of flaky pastries and bowls of juicy fruit—fat strawberries, cherries, and blueberries, savory melon slices, chunks of sweet pineapple. Crystal carafes of freshly squeezed orange juice were lined up like glossy jewels. Heated platters of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and thick, buttered toast rested beside the fruit, along with dishes of crunchy granola and creamy yogurt.
Lydia stopped in the doorway. Preston and Kruin were eating at their usual places, and they both gave her brief nods of greeting. She saw Helen, divested of her Cleopatra costume and accoutrements. The folds of her robe were parted to reveal her plump cleavage, and she gave Lydia a slow smile that seemed to indicate more than a simple greeting.
Lydia wondered with another stab of jealousy if Helen had spent the entire night with Gabriel. Pushing aside the thought, she turned her attention to a man who was helping himself to a generous serving of eggs. His back was to her, but she recognized him immediately.
When he turned and saw her standing there, Wallace gave her an unreadable smile. He wore a cotton robe that was barely closed with a belt, revealing his plump, hairy stomach and skinny legs. Lydia also caught an unfortunate glimpse of his limp member dangling between his thighs.
“Well, good morning, Lydia,” Wallace said as he settled at the table. “You’re a pleasant sight.”
You’re not
, Lydia wanted to retort, but stopped the words just in time.
Instead, she muttered a greeting in return, including the other guests in her words as she went to pour herself a cup of coffee. She filled her plate with food and sat down next to Gabriel, trying not to wince as pain coated her caned flesh.
To her relief, none of the guests were paying either her or each other much attention, as they were engrossed either in their food or reading the newspaper. Furthermore, they all appeared rather exquisitely exhausted from the previous night.
“So, Lydia, darling, how are you this morning?” Preston asked, pushing aside a section of the newspaper.
“Fine, thank you.”
“And your luscious backside?”
Lydia flushed. “Sore,” she muttered.
“Mmm. The cane has quite a different sensation, doesn’t it?”
Wallace, who was seated diagonally from Lydia, glanced up from his plate with an intrigued expression. “When was Lydia caned?”
“Last night,” Preston explained. “We had a little display in the drawing room. Lydia has been a naughty thing in the past and required punishment.”
“Why wasn’t I told of this?” Wallace asked rather petulantly. “I would have liked to see that.”
“Perhaps you still will,” Preston replied, giving Lydia a salacious wink.
Unease rose in her throat. Surely he wouldn’t subject her to punishment again in such a short period of time. She was relieved when Kruin spoke.
“Not for some time, however,” the big man said.
Preston looked as if he were about to protest, but a sharp glance from Gabriel made him close his mouth with irritation. Lydia sent silent thanks to both Gabriel and Kruin.
“Then how are we to entertain our guests this morning?” Preston asked.
“You can watch someone else,” Helen suggested. She smiled at Lydia, her eyes sparking with a hint of excitement. “After all, Lydia isn’t the only one who’s been naughty.”
Lydia was unable to prevent herself from glancing at Gabriel. He didn’t react at all to Helen’s comment, but Wallace gave a deep laugh.
“My guess is that Lydia isn’t naughty on purpose, though,” he said. “Unlike some people.”
Helen turned her smile on the older man. “How are you with a cane, Wallace?”
“Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll find out.”
“I’ll look forward to that, then.”
“And what about Lydia?” Wallace remarked, turning his attention back to Lydia. “Do you want to find out?”
“No, thank you,” Lydia said shortly. She bit into a croissant and wished Wallace would ignore her the way the other male guests were doing.
“You were right about her, Preston,” Wallace said, his expression darkening slightly. “Not very friendly at all.”
“Well, bear in mind that friendliness is hardly a prerequisite,” Preston replied. “And frankly, Lydia would be far less interesting if she were entirely gregarious and accommodating.”
“Still, a measure of sociability is necessary,” Wallace continued, his watery eyes never leaving Lydia. “As is the knowledge that pain should be inflicted only at certain times.”
Lydia recognized he was referring to her kneeing him in the groin. She met his gaze with a level one of her own.
“Or when it’s deserved,” she said.
He frowned, but didn’t respond. Lydia glanced toward the end of the table, where a statuesque, blonde woman was eyeing one of the men. She plucked a cherry from a bowl and slipped it between her full, ruby lips before leaning over to kiss him. The moistened cherry passed from her mouth into his, just as he began parting the folds of her robe to reveal her breasts.
Embarrassment rose in Lydia as it became clear that the lustful atmosphere of the previous night had extended to the morning. She looked down at her plate, wondering if she could excuse herself. She still had no idea when it was appropriate for her to state her wishes.
“So your punishment was deserved, was it?” Wallace asked.
Lydia glanced up. “Excuse me?”
“Last night. If pain should be dispensed when it’s deserved, then the pain of your caning must have been well deserved. What did you do to deserve it, Lydia?”
“None of your business,” Lydia replied tartly, earning herself a glare from Kruin and a terse “Lydia!” from Preston.
She flushed at being reprimanded in front of the guests, feeling several of them glance curiously at her. She didn’t care if they knew about her role in the house, which was all too evident, but she hoped none of them would recognize her from somewhere.
“Go on, my dear,” Preston urged. “Tell Wallace what you did.”
Lydia’s fingers clenched on her fork as she fought the urge to snap at him. She thought briefly of telling Preston what Wallace had done to her, but she suspected it wouldn’t make a difference.
“I slapped Preston,” she finally said.
“And?” Preston asked.
Lydia looked at him in confusion. “And?”
“How else have you disobeyed us?”
Her flush of embarrassment deepened as she realized what he wanted her to confess. Her mind worked frantically trying to think of a way to phrase it with a minimum of humiliation. “I…I’ve succumbed to climax.”
“Rather uncontrollably, I might add,” Preston said. “She comes like a cat in heat, entirely unable to control her pleasure.”
Lydia knew her skin was burnt crimson. Anger quickened in her blood at Preston’s continuous need to shame her, even though he had proven his authority time and time again. And after last night, Lydia thought she deserved a small reprieve.
“That must make it a joy to discipline her,” Wallace mused.
“It does,” Gabriel agreed, giving Lydia a smile before he took his plate and returned to the buffet.
Wallace stood and walked around the table, stopping right beside Lydia’s chair. Something feral lit in his pale eyes.
“What kind of cane did you use on her?” he asked Preston.
“Rattan,” Preston replied. “I prefer natural materials. And Lydia’s bottom is excellent. It fairly springs back with each lash.”
“Show me the welts,” Wallace ordered.
Lydia disliked the look in his expression. It was somehow vengeful, as if he wanted to retaliate for the way she had treated him. Her hand trembled as she took another sip of coffee, hoping one of the other men might come to her rescue.
“Lydia.” Preston said her name in a brusque voice that left her in no doubt as to what was expected of her.
Her face burning, she rose slowly from her seat. She willed Gabriel to put a stop to this, but he was busy refilling his plate with food. Lydia gathered her dress in her hands and pulled it up, taking care to make certain that at least her mons remained covered. A cool breeze drifted across her welt-riddled skin, easing the continuous burn.
Wallace stepped behind her to examine the pattern. Lydia flinched when he pressed his hands against her bottom cheeks, flaring pain through her once again. She put her fists on the table and struggled against the urge to snap at Wallace to take his hands off her. She particularly hated the fact that she was now in the position he had wanted last night.
Still holding her skirt up, Lydia looked at Kruin. He was watching her enigmatically, which made her wonder if she was being assessed on her behavior this morning.