Serenity's Dream (8 page)

around? She certainly had no wish to be left adrift in this sea of iniquity. She was

already sure her sore bottom had been pinched several times.

"Mighty fine specimen, Damrill." A much foxed Lord Meyer-Smythe stepped out

of the crowd and shouted to be heard over the clamor. "Does she enjoy your games?"

"Stubble it, my lord," Lucien answered. "Isn't there a young lord you wish to

bugger?"

The man's mottled face instantly turned as bright a red as Serenity's bottom.

"Fair, 'nuf," he slurred and disappeared into the mass of bodies, his powdered wig

ridiculously askew.

Serenity looked up at Lucien. "Do you mean . . . ?"

"He has been known to favor the well-formed footmen on his estate, yes. He will

soon be in one of the rooms across the hall with a pretty young man or two. You may

watch if you like, he loves an audience."

It was Serenity's turn to blush, for she did indeed want to watch. She'd come to

recognize a perverse part of herself, and she was determined not to shy away from it.

No one knew her in London, and she intended to use her anonymity to her advantage.

The very idea of teas and balls and pretended deference to those who would sooner eat

her alive as look at her, made her stomach roil. She savored the idea of helping her

husband run his club. After all, it did have its benefits.

"What is this I hear about you being married? Please tell me you will still meet

with me, Luce dear. I could never allow anyone else to do what you do." The shockingly

intimate voice came out of nowhere and seemed to startle Lucien.

"Lady Foxworth, how nice to see you this evening." Lucien gave a crisp bow. "I

shall meet you at eleven, as usual. Marjorie will be waiting for you."

"Thank God. I am in desperate need of your attentions. "The woman gave

Serenity a coy smile before departing with a sarcastic, "It is nice to meet you, Mrs.

Damrill."

Serenity nodded and then looked at her husband questioningly.

Lucien took her arm and wove their way back to the library.

"Where are we going?"

"It is time I explained more about my role here at the club."

Lucien led her into the library and poured her a glass of wine and himself a

brandy. He had no earthly idea why he felt the need to explain, but he knew he must.

"Lady Foxworth is a member of the club who comes to me personally for her

punishments. We have a standing appointment on Thursday nights at eleven."

Serenity took the wineglass from his hand. "Are sexual relations involved?"

"Yes."

Serenity's breath hitched. "Oh." Disappointment dripped from her lips.

"This is my work. Lady Foxworth and her kind pay a bloody fortune to have

their backsides blistered raw and then fucked until they cannot walk. Please don't feign

jealousy, it is not becoming, given our situation."

"Of course I am not jealous. You may conduct your life as you always have."

"I am glad you see it that way."

"I believe I suddenly have a headache and wish to retire for the evening." She

went to the panel in the wall and disappeared behind it, leaving Lucien, glass in hand,

wondering for the first time if he'd made a drastic miscalculation.

Chapter Seven

Serenity managed to reach her bedchamber before she burst into tears. The last

few days had been wonderful, and now bloody reality had crept into her world. It had

unsettled her that Lucien had been so frank about Lady Foxworth. She wondered how

many others he serviced, though she knew she'd no right whatsoever to care. She'd

burst into his life and proposed an arrangement, much the same kind as the Foxworth

woman had with him, save for marriage. She'd not counted on her own weakness. She'd

been so sure she could return to him and never develop an attachment. It was obvious

she'd underestimated him.

She felt like a criminal as it was, given Chetwood's accusations. Her emotions

were becoming too involved with respect to Lucien, and it could only lead to trouble for

both of them. Her only hope was to make sure Lucien never learned why she'd really

returned. If he ever knew the truth, he would hate her for certain.

Why should she care if he thrashed Lady Foxworth or anyone else? She was

getting from him what she desperately wanted—and what she needed—and he'd never

promised her anything more. Lucien wasn't her property. He'd lived a great many years

without her, and it appeared he wished to go on in that vein indefinitely.

She had no idea how she was to spend the rest of the evening, but she knew for

certain she wasn't going to rejoin her husband.

* * * * *

Lucien fumed at Serenity's impertinence. He refused to allow anyone to dictate

how he lived his life. He wouldn't allow her to impose any type of attachment. He

would thrash that evil jealousy out of her, indeed he would.

Lucien knew he'd too much anger in him at the moment, which wouldn't bode

well for Lady Foxworth. He would try to temper it, but he did not see much hope. Lady

Amelie Foxworth was a widow who had been coming to the Sapphire Club since its

inception. She and her husband had been members together, and they had enjoyed the

sensual games. When he died suddenly of the ague some two years past, Amelie was

lost. She'd truly loved his lordship. Out of concern and courtesy, Lucien had called

upon her ladyship during her mourning and in a moment of weakness, had consented

to continue where Lord Foxworth had left off. The lady enjoyed some of the rather

severe games, and Lucien wouldn't trust the administration to anyone else. There was

always a quick fuck afterwards, but neither had become emotionally engaged and never

would. Amelie was more interested in the games than in him.

"Mr. Damrill," Hampton interrupted, "Lady Foxworth is waiting in the usual

room."

"Thank you, Hampton. I shall join her presently."

"Very good, sir."

Lucien took a moment to gather his wits. He couldn't go to her ladyship ready to

tear someone's head off. Their games required his complete attention, lest harm be

done. He finished his brandy and took on the role of Master. Serenity and her

childishness would have to wait. This was business.

He straightened his waistcoat, buttoned his tailcoat, and left the room.

* * * * *

Haynes stood just outside the door to the room where Lady Foxworth waited.

He held a mask, part of the lady's fantasy.

"Her name is Annie Fox. She has been a recalcitrant prisoner at Newgate and

needs to be taught a lesson. You, of course, are the warder whom she has abused and

spat upon. You'd warned her previously but she'd not listened, and now you have to

take her in hand."

Lady Foxworth had always been quite creative in her fantasies.

"I see, very good, Hampton." With a deep breath, Lucien walked into the room.

His boots sounded heavily upon the black marble-tiled floor. There, in the center

of the room, stood a large device known as "the Block"— a large square box that opened

in the middle. A pillory was attached to the front. Lady Foxworth's legs were already

closed and locked in the box, and her arms and head were secured through the holes in

the pillory, rendering her entirely immobile.

Her skirts, plain, prison-like garb, were tucked up into the neck, leaving her

bottom fully exposed, revealing marks left from years of punishment.

"So, Annie, it's come to this, 'as it?" Lucien started. "Hadn't ya been warned your

type of disobedience wouldn't be tolerated 'ere?"

'Annie' nodded, wide-eyed with fear.

"Well, since this is ya first time under the lash, I may go easy on ya, but ya will

remember this, I can guarantee."

"Please sir, I won't do it again, please, have mercy on a poor girl. I was jus' tryin'

to get a better meal."

"But we have rules at Newgate, Annie. Suckin' off prisoners is against the rules

and ain't gonna get 'cha a better meal no how. Frankly, ya shoulda come ta me, and we

mighta worked somethin' out."

"I'm sorry sir, I shall next time. Please sir."

"No, you been askin' for this for a long time, Annie."

She began to cry, all part of the game, as Lucien went to the cabinet that held the

tools he would use to punish the lady. She was a seasoned devotee of spanking and

punishment, and Lucien suspected she had her servants whip her in between their

sessions because she was almost insatiable. He picked up a cane to start. He

remembered them well from his years at school. The lady liked to warm up with them.

There were no more words spoken. Lucien went to work. The cane swished

through the air, delivering the twenty lashes he gave her, left red streaks across her

buttocks, but barely evoked a sigh from her ladyship. Lucien knew she wouldn't be

finished until she was screaming for mercy. Next he chose a leather flogger. With no

mercy whatsoever, Lucien let fly, and he did get some reaction this time. 'Annie' pushed

her buttocks out to receive the blows. As he continued, she began to vocalize their

receipt. A guttural
yes
and a loud moan, which sounded more like a prelude to an

orgasm, were part of her usual verbiage. She knew the game and would never beg for

more, but there were ways around that rule. Lucien was quite attuned to his private

clients' needs. She was not at all done if she was poking her bottom out.

With twenty lashes from the flogger, he moved along to the tawse. "Ya don't

seem to be gettin' the message, Annie. It's the bench for ya."

"Oh, no sir, not the bench. I've heard about that. No, please."

"Ten more lashes for beggin'. Ya know the rules."

Lucien lowered the lady's skirt and signaled for the footman to come forth and

get her out of the Block and strap her to the bench. Every room had a footman in

attendance at all times, for the protection of the members as well as the club. They were

a burly lot, unlike the footmen who served tea, and would never let anyone go beyond

the bounds of their purpose at the club. These were sex games only, not punishment in

any real sense of the word.

As Annie was being situated, Lucien's mind drifted to his wife. He wondered

what she was doing and had a fleeting thought about
her
being strapped to the bench.

Then he had an intense urge to just make love to her. Nothing else, just take her as he

hadn't before.

"She is secured, sir."

"Very good, Haynes."

The bench was simply that, but at one end there was a pillory. A client would lie

flat on their stomach and be restrained at the ankles and waist. Their head and arms

would be put into the stocks and they too would be secured. Their posterior would be

bared for punishment.

Lady Foxworth particularly liked the bench, so it was incorporated into each

session. The woman had an incredible pain threshold; something had always made

Lucien wonder about her and her true story. However, he would never second-guess a

member of the club. Their pleasure was his livelihood.

He'd chosen the tawse, a Scottish implement made of hard leather with two

splits making three distinct tails. It was a rather nasty bit of business, but her ladyship

always requested it.

"Ah right, Annie. Ya don' seem to be getting' the message, so mayhap ma tawse

will help ya to unnerstan."

Annie cried out an almost sincere "no" before Lucien applied the tool to her

backside. Her already burning cheeks quivered under the blow, and her ladyship

expelled an involuntary guttural sound.

"Now, I think we might be onta sumpin," Lucien said, using his best lowly

warder accent. Five blows were all the lady could stand from a tawse at any given time.

The last ten were given with a leather strap, as always. These were the ten Lucien added

on, but in reality, it was all a part of the agreed upon total.

These lashes were given in quick succession, not giving the lady time to catch a

breath in between. She usually counted them aloud tearfully. When she started

counting, Lucien knew she'd reached the end.

Lady Foxworth wanted him to draw blood, which the tawse and cane usually

did. This night was no exception. Lucien rang for one of the maids to come in and take

care of the wounds as Haynes released the restraints.

Lucien retreated to the corner while the servants tended to her ladyship. He

dismissed them both when their work was done, leaving him alone with Lady

Foxworth. "Amelie, I can provide you with someone else to complete your scene, but I

am sorry I cannot participate tonight."

"Why?" she asked casually. "Is it your wife?"

"I have not explained things fully to her, and until I do, I feel I should refrain."

"I see. Well, what about that delectable Haynes? I have long wanted to dally with

him."

"You wish to dally with my footman?" Lucien lifted a black eyebrow. "For shame,

my lady."

"Who is to know? He is as handsome as the devil, and if he has a cock anything

like yours, I won't mind your desertion. You gave my arse a real going over. I'll feel this

for days." She rubbed her stinging flesh and smiled widely. "I do appreciate a master at

work, and you, my lovely Luce, are a master."

"Lucien, Amelie. You know I detest your pet name."

"All right, all right, Lucien. Now, get Haynes in here, because I intend to suck