Chapter 21
Sadie | London, 1758
Darius walks towards the bed, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the monstrous bulge in his breeches. But now I’m confused by his intentions, and my burnt fingers are throbbing unbearably. I should have just climaxed from him licking me and taken the punishment rather than the prize. Because if the prize isn’t him, then I don’t want it.
From his pocket, he extracts a black silk scarf and ties it round my eyes, and I whimper as my world becomes dark. ‘Shhh, be calm. She’ll be here momentarily.’
I tense at that.She?‘Who?’ I ask warily.
‘The Mistress. Then the fun will really begin.’ From the excited, feverish edge to his tone, my instincts tell me that the prize is definitely not within the realms of what I’m normally used to in bed. Oh hell’s bells, is this going to turn into a threesome? I’m more of a one-to-one girl. This is not good! I attempt to free myself from whatever’s holding me fast, but it’s no use. I’m a sacrificial goat.
Quick footsteps tap on the floorboards outside the room, and Darius hastens to open the door. A pause and someone steps lightly into the room. There’s a swish of material, as if a cloak is being removed, and a waft of frosty outside air feathers my cheek.
‘Greetings, Mistress,’ Darius says eagerly.
‘Why are you still standing?’ purrs an imperious female voice. ‘You know I prefer you on your knees when you greet me. But at least you have removed your shirt. Good ... Now kneel before me.’
There’s a soft thump, which I assume is Darius kneeling. ‘I humbly apologise, Mistress,’ he says, sounding like a breathless schoolboy. ‘And I thank you for your gracious touch.’
The sound of a hand slapping hard against skin reaches my ears, and my eyebrows shoot up.Is she punishing him? How? And why is he letting her?
Whoever this woman is, she’s got Darius Vexley tied around her little finger with a pink ribbon. I’m a bit green-eyed about that! I wish I had that kind of command and control over him. Or any man, for that matter. Her voice, manner, and actions are creating a powerful yearning in my gut to be called Mistress. But it’s something I know can never be mine without birthright and breeding.
‘And what of my evening’s entertainment?’ she says huskily once Darius has been thoroughlydealt with. An atmosphere of sexual tension now permeates the room, as if they both enjoyed the slapping. Some of the other girls at Mother Swift’s take on customers who wish to engage in that kind of activity, and I often hear their distant screams rending the air as I service my own. It always makes me shudder and feel lucky I’m not them. But to be called Mistress, it seems I would need the stomach for doling out slaps.
‘She is prepared, Mistress,’ Darius replies. ‘Ready and waiting for you on the bed. I tested her ... resolve ... and found her able to withstand my ministrations.’
There’s a pause, and I sense unseen eyes raking my naked flesh. ‘Excellent. Thank you, Darius. It bodes well. Unlike that other harlot you found for me who lasted barely five minutes.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’ Darius sounds regretful. ‘But I have been watching this one for weeks. Her name is Sadie Smith ...’
I stiffen in surprise at that.Watching me? Spying on me?
‘And she is in high demand from a number of elite gentlemen. Upon interviewing them, it was made clear to me that she only considers their pleasure and not her own. She is a perfect candidate for your purposes.’
A hoarse cackle of delight ensues, then a sniffing noise.
‘But why can I smell burning flesh?’
Darius sighs. ‘There was a slight ... incident. With the fire. I apologise. But other than that, she is untarnished. Andit will heal when you—’
‘Thank you, Darius. You can leave us now.’
‘I was hoping I could ...’ he trails off.
‘Join in?’ The woman sounds amused. ‘Hmm, I don’t know about that.’
‘Oh please, let me,’ Darius implores. To my ears, he sounds like he’s practically begging. And from that huge erection I witnessed earlier, I’m not surprised he’s frothing at the mouth for release.
‘Very well. I can see that cock of yours is about to burst some buttons,’ she says dryly.
I snigger at her shared response. ‘My thoughts exactly!’ I call over, unable to resist butting in.
There’s a heavy silence, then a swish of material as the woman makes her way over to me on the bed. She stands there, saying nothing; and again, I sense eyes creeping over my body. I’m used to being naked, so it doesn’t bother me. And I suppose I can help her out if she wants her own release, though I don’t do women as a rule. It’s Darius I’m more interested in. The scent of roses tickles my nose. It’s the same scent that I smelled on Darius when he escorted me into the room. They must use the same rose water cologne or something. Are they friends? Lovers? The way she speaks to him suggests something else, more like master and slave.
‘What is your name please, ma’am?’ I ask, straining to see through the black silk mask but seeing nothing but theoutline of a shadowy form beside the bed.
‘You may call me ... Anya,’ says the woman. A cool finger touches my burned hand, and I flinch. There’s a tutting noise.
