“Why would I leave my post?” he says, panic in his voice.
“Because I am not going to let you keep it for nothing. You will buy your continued employment with your body, Mr. Saintsbury. With your services in my bedchamber.”
He blinks at me from across the carriage.
“I am sorry—I—don’t?—”
“Do not play the innocent,” I snap. “You are going to be my whore. I return to London in four weeks. And until then, you will be mine whenever I desire it. You will come when I beckon. And do whatIrequest.”
I reason that I will not need long to get with child. If the four weeks proves insufficient, then I can stay for longer. But I doubt that I will need it.
“I cannot,” he says. “It would be the most enormous sin.”
“That isyourproblem. I don’t believe in sin myself. Or the hereafter. If you wanted to leave your post and save your soul, Mr. Saintsbury, you shouldn’t have gotten into my carriage. But if you leave now and refuse my offer, I will tell everyone exactly what you have done here. And I will have all the advantage. Because my tale will betrue. And no one knows more than me about what truth in the scandal sheets can do to a reputation.”
Mr. Saintsbury looks at me, his mouth agape.
And then before my eyes his cock swells. Again.
“You want it,” I say. “How tragic for you. To desire what you hate.”
“Why must you torment me?”
“Oh, Mr. Saintsbury, I have not yet begun tormenting you.”
I sigh once more, affecting a calm that, in truth, I do not completely feel.
If I touch him at all, anywhere, he will come again. And the idea pleases me beyond belief. This entire exchange has me flushed and hot. I can’t help it. Moisture seeps between my legs.
“Now get out. And when I call you to the Abbey, you will come running. Like a dog to his master.”
Mr. Saintsbury looks at me and for a moment I wonder if he will refuse. If his soul is really worth that much to him.
But then he nods. Stiffly. As if he were passing me in the lane. Then he moves to exit the carriage.
“One last thing,” I say, halting his progress. “It pleases me to see you like this. So wanting. Can you come without friction? Do you come in your sleep?”
He looks at me as if I am Satan himself. For a moment, he just stares.
The next, he shakes his head.
“Good. Don’t touch yourself—or make yourself spend in any fashion—when you are alone. You will only orgasm at my command. Do you understand me? If I sense you have disobeyed me, you will lose your post.”
His eyes widen in terror.
“I have already told you I don’t—I don’t—make—touch—on my own.”
I laugh. I saw how he bucked his hips against his trousers.
“Do not lie to me, Alfred.”
At my use of his name he shudders slightly.
“Fine,” he says. “I promise. I am at your mercy.”
“Excellent. Now go.”
I watch as he gets out and lurches, stiff-legged, into the vicarage. I think of him sitting in the vicarage with a cock hard for me. The thought drives me feral with desire.
