She found her in the Cellar Room. Not an actual cellar, but the walls and floors were a dark grey stone and a damp chill hovered in the air. It was the name Colleen had given the room. She preferred it over what the girls called it – the Dungeon.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim torch light. About fifteen members gathered on hard benches to watch the scene playing out before them. None of the spectators made a sound, either too awed or too afraid of the consequences. And Colleen could see why. Molly stood in the center of the room wearing a gown of crimson organza. The skintight pantaloons that were visible beneath the dress made her look dangerous. Fierce. The outline of her bare breasts beneath the sheer fabric did little to soften the image. Molly looked like a female pirate.
The whip in her hand didn’t hurt that image, either.
A naked man knelt before her. Even in the low light, Colleen could see the long, red welts marking his back. Four leather cuffs wrapped around each of his knees and wrists and were attached together with thongs.
Molly placed her booted foot to his side and tipped him over. He landed on the stone with a groan.
“Get up!” Molly cracked the whip. It didn’t seem to strike the man, but the noise was enough of a motivation for him to try to right himself. The ankle and wrist harness hampered his efforts, an effective hobble. After two more cracks of the whip, he managed to heave to his hands and knees. He crawled towards Molly and kissed her boot.
Colleen slid into a spot on the wall next to Lucy. “How much longer?” she whispered.
Lucy shrugged. “Almost done, I think,” she murmured. “The scene started with him forced into his restraints by four of our men. He was cursing Molly’s name. Now he is all slavish devotion.”
Colleen could see that. The man practically purred when Molly smoothed his hair, a glazed look softening his face. Molly bent over and whispered something in his ear. She stroked the handle of the whip down his spine and between the cheeks of his bum.
The man mewled and arched his back.
“She is skilled,” Colleen admitted. Had someone put a whip in Colleen’s hand, she’d as like end up choking herself with it than control anyone else.
“She should be.” Lucy shifted, leaning closer to Colleen. “I heard she’s been on the streets since she was twelve. You can learn a lot in that time. And that’s why I watch as many of her dominance scenes as I can. To learn from her.”
Colleen rubbed at the ache in her chest. She didn’t care overmuch for Molly, but her heart broke for the little girl she’d been. And that any man would touch one so young …. Colleen clenched her fists, and her glare landed on the unfortunate male who sidled through the door.
Lord Sutton closed the door behind him, caught her look, and raised an eyebrow. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, looking content to wait.
Colleen turned from his scrutiny, her scalp prickling. Insufferable man. It was easy to forget his kindnesses when, with just one look, he could make her as uncomfortable as a cat in a room full of dogs.
Molly lashed her customer twice more before grabbing his member and tugging none too gently. With the handle of the whip, she pointed at one of the house servants lounging in the shadows. The man wore breeches but no shirt, and claw marks streaked across his stomach. He stepped forwards and unbuttoned his falls.
Molly cracked the whip, and the tail bit into the customer’s buttock. “You injured that young man when he was kind enough to restrain you. I believe he deserves some recompense.” She kicked him before striding to the servant and stroking his freed prick. He hardened quickly.
“Yes, Mistress.” The bound man shuffled forwards on his hands and knees. With his wrists bound to his knees, he had a hard time raising his head high enough to put his mouth on the servant’s length but he finally managed.
Wet, slurping noises filled the chamber. Colleen averted her eyes, looking everywhere but at the tableau. More than one of the male spectators had unbuttoned his own falls and was bringing himself pleasure. The wife of one of the members knelt before her husband and took him in her mouth.
Colleen stared at the floor. There was nowhere safe to look. Sutton shifted, drawing her attention. He had one leg crossed over the other, the toe of one top boot planted firmly next to his other foot. She looked up the dark leather shafts, up to the trousers tucked into the tan-colored band circling the tops of the boots. His thighs bulged behind the wool of his black trousers, and …. Her cheeks heated. Was he hard behind his falls? Was he watching this licentiousness and becoming aroused?
She darted a glance at his face and lost her breath. One of his shoulders was propped against the wall, and he was facing her, ignoring the scene in the center of the room. He stared at her, unblinking, his countenance indecipherable. The man was an enigma. He rarely showed his thoughts or emotions, yet he seemed to always know hers, a condition that was becoming increasingly annoying.
Soft moans filled the chamber, and she didn’t know if it was the house servant’s pleasure or that of the other members’ that she heard. The gentle sucking noises developed a rhythm, each tug sending a low thrum to her center. The tips of her breasts tingled, and she stared into Sutton’s eyes, finding it impossible to look away. The air in the chamber warmed, grew heavy from the heat of all those bodies and the scents of their desire.
She shifted her thighs together, trying to will away the ache. The moans grew louder. The delicate sucking sounds picked up tempo. Sutton’s eyes were black in the dim light, dark, burning embers. She needed to look away but was ensnared. Sweat dampened her back, rolled down her skin, joined with the moisture pooling between her thighs.
And still he stared at her.
Her breath clogged her throat. Her chest heaved. Slowly, he pushed off the wall. Took a step towards her.
Molly planted herself in front of Colleen, severing the connection.
All the air left Colleen in a hiss, and she slumped back against the cold stone. She needed to gain control of herself. She was a widow and a woman of business, with no time for such nonsense as … well, as whatever that was.
She cleared her throat. “You wanted to speak with me?” she asked Molly. “I can wait until after your scene.” Glancing over the girl’s shoulder, she took note of the house servant gripping the customer’s hair, yanking the man’s mouth over his length in deep, rough strokes. “It is almost over?”
Molly tapped the handle of the whip into one hand. “Bernard can wait. I can have him service every male in the room as his punishment if need be. But I did want to speak with you.”
“About?”
