The Surrender of Lady Charlotte (11 page)

“Consider me as your sovereign, Charlotte, while you placate your husband. But you will obey me, or fear reprisals you may not relish.”

“I’d love anything you gave me!” she assured him.

“Did you enjoy yesterday?”

“In some ways. I’m sure you saw my ecstasy. Of course, the night before was intensely humiliating.” She thought back to the grueling bondage. “Made no more than a common piece of furniture! I was beginning to believe that you regarded me as lowly as you made me feel.”

“Really? You were embarrassed to be so crudely used?”

“I was.”

“Hmm, then, I’ll have to try that again.”

“Oh, please. You do jest.”

“At some fancy dinner, I’ll have you turned into a footstool, or perhaps bind a tray to your back and you can serve my guests their drinks.”

“I would serve you so,” she answered him honestly.

“I’m sure you would.” He laughed more as though it were all in jest, though Charlotte knew that this cunning nobleman could be as wickedly ruthless as any Ilusian master, including Mountbane. “Perhaps I overacted yesterday in deference to my pupils,” he did explain. “After all, they are training for their roles in Mountbane’s service. And, we must be careful how we act with each other. When they return tomorrow, I will continue to instruct them while you obey. And when I leave, you’ll follow their commands as you would mine or any master’s. Is that clear?”

“I understand it all. But you’ll be leaving me?” She looked concerned.

“You’re to stay here as long as Mountbane wants you to remain away from the castle. I imagine it will take two weeks for the man to have his new tart used up and thrown out. By then, he might welcome you back in his bed and expect full compliance from your lips and body. You will give that, too.”

“Forever? And let my heart die every time I see you!” The look of melancholy in her face could move a less steady man to tears.

“Other arrangements will be made, soon. But such things take time.”

“
Then
I’ll be with you?”

“Then you’ll be with me,” he assured her.

She was troubled now. And though they made love once more before they slept, she couldn’t keep the sense of dread from her anxious body, or the wild imaginings of disaster out of her thoughts. By the next morning, she was sure that Sir Tristan’s and their covert love affair was a fated mistake.

In the morning, the pair was wise to guard themselves lest the two young men return to the hovel earlier than Tristan ordered them. They stayed clear of the bed and each other, acting more like master and slave than lovers. Charlotte was cleaning the kitchen like a kitchen slave and Tristan was putting on his leather boots.

“Tristan, this is too dangerous,” Charlotte said flatly. “Whatever plan you have crafted is foolish. Neither one of us would survive if we were caught. I can’t let you take the chance. I won’t. And I’m firm on that.” She sounded firm, like the adamant Charlotte of old. The man looked up, hearing her reckless words fly forth in an unexpected wave of passion.

“I should whip you now for such insolence, milady. And whip you soundly for spewing this nonsense.”

“The danger is too great. I’m sure of it!” she answered tersely.

He moved up, grabbing her wrist away from her work, “Danger is part of life,” he reminded her with a voice as filled with passion as hers was.

“What if Mountbane discovers what has happened!” Her eyes flashed fire as she spoke.

“He won’t learn the truth from me. Are you so weak that you’ll let it slip?”

“Of course not! But would it not be better to live together as we have, stealing the moments when we can?” she calmed her wrath in order to plead with him. “There are plenty of opportunities for us to love in secret.”

“What happened to you, dear lady—just yesterday you agreed against such pretenses. You plead both sides!”

“I am worried, sir. About your safety.”

“Think clearly, Charlotte, you really believe when you return that Mountbane will restore your privileges as his wife?” Tristan eased his grip on her wrist, though he would not let go.

“I would assume he would,” she replied.

“He might for a time, if you’re lucky. But it’s more likely the birds won’t fly north as spring approaches, than Mountbane will have you back. He has his ways. Trust me, you are finished with him.”

“You are so certain?”

“I am,” his dark eyes were now as cold as the north wind. “Trust me, as soon as he tires of you again—if he doesn’t do this directly when you return—he’ll cage you in his dungeon until you’re an old and withered hag.”

“Oh, never. I am his wife, he won me well. He’d never do that.”

“You think not? He already has once, ma’am.”

“What do you mean, he has? I’m in no dungeon now.”

“His other wife, my cousin, Elissa, was sent to the dungeons after two years romping playfully in his bed. She was his slave and still she was condemned. At least he gave you three years of bliss. When Mountbane tired of her she was gone—in mind and body no longer of use to him.”

“He had another wife?” She was aghast. “Where is she now, still there?”

“She’s dead,” he said flatly.

“My, lord, no! He killed her? Had her killed?”

“That wasn’t necessary,” Tristan said. “A nasty plague went through the cells the first winter. And before it ran its course, she was too far gone to revive.”

“Could she not have easily died living in the castle above?”

“No one died in his noble realm. It was a simple ailment, but unchecked it became virulent.”

She still could not fathom this wild story. “I know my husband is a hard and even cruel man at times; but I can’t believe he’d allow a wife to die of such neglect.”

“Neglect it was. He tried to mourn, but he has no soul.”

“No, that can’t be. Such wit and grace, sexual prowess, even if he’s cunning.”

“He’s a charming madman, Charlotte.”

“Perhaps so,” she looked down pensively considering his words. “I worry for you. You indict yourself to believe what you believe and then say these things.”

“I’d say them to his face.”

“But reporting it to me? Don’t you consider that a dangerous gamble?”

“Is your allegiance so fragile?” he asked.

“No, sir. It is firmly with you.”

“Then I have nothing to fear.”

“So, why, milord, have you stayed in this province if you hate it so? You’re free to leave.”

“To find you,” he said simply.

“Me?”

“Revenge.”

“That’s all I am, revenge?”

“I can think of no better revenge than to fall in love with Mountbane’s wife and have her return my love.”

Charlotte turned away from him, pondering his statement—unsure how she should feel… was this affair nothing but revenge for a terrible crime? That simply couldn’t be. There was his love, and that was genuine. She may not be schooled in such things, but no man would give a slave so much affection and not feel it with his whole heart.

“You are a sly rogue,” she finally snickered as she turned around. “Perhaps you are more madman than he?”

“Perhaps I am.”

“And perhaps you’ll throw me over once your revenge is finished?”

His eyes gleamed with both wildness and love. “That is the chance you’ll have to take. You can believe me or be wary, but you know the whole truth now.”

Charlotte pondered silently, until Tristan finally spoke again, “So, what is it, now that you know all my motives? Will you cleave to your husband in the hopes he’ll take you back?”

Charlotte’s pensive look brightened. “No, sir. I can no longer cleave to a man I do not love—I’m sure that Mountbane would betray me as easily as he did your cousin.” She thought longer, remembering what seemed like an eon ago, though it was only a few years. “I was betrayed by a man I loved once—my father,” she said sadly. “You are right. I may not wish to believe it so, but the truth is, I’m in this hovel now because he has some plans afoot.” Her mood darkened even more. “I suppose I should call myself guilty for his change of passion. It’s been a steady shift in temperament, but a natural one. He finds other flesh more entertaining than me now because I have subtly risen from surrender to become a real woman once again. Mountbane, at heart, is a simple man, and I have complicated his sense of order.” She looked up at Tristan without one hint of a slave’s disposition in her lovely countenance. “Whatever it is, your plan is likely as sound a one as returning to find myself imprisoned in his dungeon.”

Tristan nodded. She would have thought that he would welcome her decision but it was his turn to brood.

“Something troubles you, sir?” she noted.

“Tell me, Charlotte, is surrender just a game for you, or is it real?”

“You cannot tell yourself?”

“At the moment, the answer isn’t obvious to me,” he confessed. “But the question is an important one. Do you deny your surrender as slave?”

She thought a moment. “Only the principle on which it is founded, sir,” she replied. “I am not a maid who is too afraid to fend for herself. I made accommodations when I came here because I had no choice but to relent. When I did, I learned the surprising truth. I relish surrender, but,” she hastened to add, “not to fools, or those who regard me as an object to reject on whims and throw away.”

“Perhaps you hate what Mountbane has made of you? Perhaps submission denies your real nature?”

Her eyes brightened, “
I
made me who I am to survive this Ilusia. I have found surrender sweet, but make no mistake, I am not a mindless slave.”

“I never considered you such,” he said with understanding. “But make no mistake, Lady Charlotte,” his eyes pierced her, “you go with me, you will surrender to me.”
 
He stood now, his expression grave. “I will come for you in a fortnight, you can make your decision then.”

His boots were on. His clothes fixed well. And the tenderness that had so filled their hideaway with love seemed to have been replaced by the tense anticipation of the crime they were about.

“But I have made my decision!” she came to him, now more sure of herself than ever.

“Hush! Our friends arrive,” he glanced toward the window where his eager pupils were walking up the path. “Change takes time—and in this case, some preparation. We are not going to steal into the night without a place to go. It’s better that I’m gone now, than betray us both. You put on whatever cloaks of surrender that please you, Charlotte, and do not give our secret away. Mind these fellows well, like the first hours of your submission when it was the sweetest thing in your world. If not,” he spoke more intently, “I’m likely to take you to the dungeon myself and torture you for days.”

She shivered wantingly at the very thought of that, but then sent her heart fleeing. By the time the two young masters strode into the hovel, she was on the floor with her face pressed to the dusty surface—as though she’d been that way for hours.

“She’s had enough reprieve, gentlemen. Practice with her. Let her serve you as you wish. But do remember that she’s the property of Lord Mountbane. She’s not to be damaged goods or he’ll have your heads—after I remove your cocks with a butcher knife.”

Mountbane was busy in his chambers when he heard the knocking on his door.

“Come!” he ordered.

Two tarts had lain with him the night before and he shooed them off as Tristan entered.

“You sent for me?”

“I think it’s time to rescue my wife from the forest,” he said.

“If that’s your wish. She’s been well worked by the young gentlemen. They’ve learned a great deal making sure that she has suffered for her impudence. You were wise to see her so humbled.”

“Indeed,” he sounded less than interested. “But I do have other plans for her.”

“How so?”

“I have promised her to Sir Guy of Baudaire. You’ll take her to the province where she’ll serve him until he is ready to return her to me.”

“Such a rash move, sir?” Tristan let the information settle with him, knowing what this meant.

“Not true. I have thought on this some weeks. After Sir Guy’s imploring, I found it to my liking.”

“Then I’ll prepare for the trip.”

“As speedily as possible.”

“Would you have her returned here first?”

“No, you can explain the move as you like. Make certain that she does this in a spirit of surrender. I assume her re-training will stick more than an hour or two.”

“I trust that it will last.”

“Good. And you can take your two men with you. The journey is a short one, a few weeks at best.”

“Perhaps sooner, milord.”

“I’ll expect a handsome token from them for my generosity.”

“I’ll make sure you have it.”

Mountbane was satisfied; and with his lieutenant gone, he moved on to more lascivious deeds.

d

“The plan’s afoot, milady,” Sir Tristan exclaimed in a whisper as he approached the Lady Charlotte. His pupils had been sent back to the castle to bring the supplies he’d ordered.

“In truth?” she looked up from where she squatted on the floor.

“Mountbane’s given us easy passage. He intends to have you serve Sir Guy of Baudaire. I’m to take you there straightaway.”

“And the two young bucks?”

“I’ll find a way to throw them off when we’re well away from the province and out of Mountbane’s immediate reach. Come, let’s get you dressed. We’ll leave before nightfall.”

“And ride at night?”

“Some of the best plans are begun in the shadow hours of twilight.”

d

Mountbane moved briskly through the castle toward the baths, looking for the tart, Jontile. The little slave had been coy with him lately, something he found as charming as it was annoying. However, he wanted her now, she’d been due in his room an hour ago, and she’d make her pay for forgetting their appointment.

Flinging open the great oaken door to the steamy tub room, he eyed with interest the sights before him with lewd fascination. It had been some time since he’d enjoyed the erotic pleasantries of the slave baths, and such a sight it was this day. Besides the normal numbers of slaves washing dust, grime and sweat from their bodies, there were two nubile lovelies being worked by mistresses assigned for regular inspections.

Normally, it was forbidden for men to enter the baths—this being the one sacrosanct domain of women. These rites between slaves and noblewomen were quite private. However, Mountbane, having made the decree, found it easy to break the rule for himself whenever he chose.

“What have we here today?” he asked as he strode to a table where a fresh young slave was splayed for inspection.

“Simple examination, sir,” Mistress Lowen answered politely. She had the legs and ankles of this fair flower in stirrups, her thighs spread to the hilt, while the slave’s hands were bound above her.

“Her name?” Mountbane asked.

“Dreana.”

“Nice, very nice.” The Lord could see by the condition of her privates that this maid was not a virgin. As fine a woman as she was, she had been used well by large and anxious cocks.

“She is the property of Sir Ellemore for the season.”

“Ah, that explains this.”

“Let me see how you inspect her, Mistress,” Mountbane declared.

“Yes, sir.” She curtsied slightly, almost as embarrassed as the tethered girl to have these intimacies witnessed. “She’s been filled with waters. The bag just emptied in her behind,” she said referring to the large bladder hanging from the post beside the table. The end was attached to a hollow pipe that had been inserted in the slave’s ass. “She holds it well, though I have fitted her with a plug to prevent an accident.”

“And if there were an accident?”

“I do not take kindly to these girls soiling my floor. We have a place for such elimination.”

“I see. And what comes next?”

Mistress Lowen bowed and moved between the pair of trembling thighs. One hand opened the center portal, pulling aside the flaps of labia, while the fingers of her other hand, coated with some slippery substance, began to probe inside the slave’s vagina.

“How deeply will you move inside her?”

“As far as I can,” she said.

“Your full fist?”

The frightened slave was staring at the pair, fearing the answer to Mountbane’s question.

“If you’d like,” was the reply.

“That I would,” Mountbane said.

The mistress was a gentle sort, but not above this crude violation. Having three fingers inserted in the slave’s interior, there was no problem pushing a fourth inside, or hiding her thumb within her curled hand and pushing her knuckles through the widening hole.

The girl gasped as the first thrust seemed to hit the bottom of herself, and her outer womb expanded around the impaling hand. She groaned as her jaw clenched tight.

“Ease off, slave,” Lowen commanded, and the girl took a deep breath to calm her shaky insides.

“Move your hand inside her,” Mountbane ordered.

“Yes, milord.” The woman did it naturally with a gleam in her eye, finding that she relished the exhibition before this noble lord, while her slave remained horrified, though submissive. The girl began to moan with pleasure in spite of her fear, with her body generating erotic heat that quickly played on the master’s cock.

“And can you bring her off like this, mistress?” he wondered.

“I believe I can,” she said proudly as her hand continued working the hole. The liquid inside the girl’s interior sloshed against the penetration. Then there was a stunning jerk as the slave cried in happy misery at the moment of climax, followed by a pained look of distress as her body’s great urgent requirement seemed to rush on her quickly.

Acknowledging her need to release the water, Mistress Lowen removed her hand with a brusque jerk. Then untying the girl, she had the embarrassed slave on her way to the privy some moments later.

“It has been my pleasure, sir,” she said as she bowed before Mountbane.

“And I thank you. Perhaps you could tell me if the slave Jontile is here today?”

“She was earlier this hour, though I thought I saw her leave.”

“Little gypsy!” Mountbane declared as he stared around the bath.

Though the master’s presence had initially hushed the room to silence, the tittering maids had returned to their conversations while Mountbane was focused on Mistress Lowen and the fisted slave. Noting that his eyes were again searching the bath, their chattering waned. Only a few dared whisper.

“Who is that maid?” Mountbane asked Lowen, as he stared toward a lithe creature with pale red hair cascading like a sheet of silk down her back. Such a pretty pink mouth, he thought, and her eyes. Even from this distance, he could see the green, the sparkle and the depth of them. Not since Charlotte had captivated his imagination had a woman been so inviting to his eye. Oddly, she was still clothed with the most exquisite parts of her body hidden from view.

“That is Rosaura, the intended of Sir Leonas,” Lowen answered, though she lowered her voice to add, “Of course, Sir Ellemore is not yet apprised of that fact.”

“Ah yes! I believe I’ve heard the rumors.”

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“That she is,” he said admiringly. He sensed her blush, as though she saw his eyes on her and turned in embarrassment. “Too bad she is spoken for.”

“Several men have repeated that refrain, sir.”

“I’m sure they have.”

Not having found the object of his search in the baths—but having discovered treasures certainly worth the trip—Mountbane turned to leave, finding as he did that Mistress Gwnyth was at his heels. As soon as they were in the corridor, she caught up with him, her voice impatient, barely disguising her present wrath.

“Sir, I must speak with you.”

Mountbane had never liked the woman, and could never understand exactly how Tristan had ended up with the beautiful but rancorous bitch. Oh, she could bow in supplication like the best of slaves. But there never seemed to be a true submissive quality in her character. Whether tenderly addressed or beaten into yielding, there remained a razor sharpness about her aspect that drove Mountbane away from her. Had she been his wife—which she never would have been—he’d have disposed of her a long time ago—if need be, in favor of a less comely but more humble subject for his lust. Then, of course, Tristan was an odd fellow in his own right. His dark nobleman loved challenges even more than he did.

“And for what reason do you need me?” Mountbane asked the quickly scurrying woman. Her short stride was hardly a match for his long one and she had to work to keep up with the brisk pace. He would slow for no one, especially this woman.

“I think there is something you should be informed of?”

“And that is?”

“Your wife and my husband.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir, I have it on good report that there is something scandalous in the wind.”

Only this remark made Mountbane take note and he slowed his gait. “What would that be?” he asked, diverting his route to a less used corridor so that the conversation might be continued in private.

“I believe, sir, that these weeks of the Lady’s confinement in the forest hovel have united the two in some sort of intrigue.”

“What is there that suggests such things? To blaspheme Sir Tristan is to blaspheme a powerful nobleman of this realm as well as your husband and my trusted aide.”

“I only tell you of what I hear. And that is that they are now bound together to some escape, with the intention of enjoying the love that has grown between them somewhere outside your rule.”

Mountbane laughed at the thought. “Fine lady/slave, you are quite mistaken. I sent them from the forest hovel to Sir Guy of Baudaire, in order that Tristan can present my wife as an offering to the fellow. Their trip is thoroughly sanctioned.”

“I know of this, sir, but were they not to have been attended by Tristan’s two pupils.”

“That is what I ordered.”

“One of my maids reported today that she saw young Cheswick. She has quite a fondness for the young man, and asking him about his stealthy entry into the castle, he entreated her to keep quiet about the venture, saying that he was on holiday from his duties, Sir Tristan did not need him. His Lord let both of his aides go just as they reached the outer wilds. Is that not strange? Especially considering the time Tristan and Charlotte spent with each other. I swear there has been more than lust in my husband’s eye since Lady Charlotte came to Ilusia. He has nurtured a fondness for your wife, and I believe he and the Lady have flown from us—escaped together to pursue their indecent coupling.”

“Is that so?” Mountbane did look curious. “You know this youth that spilled the story?”

“I do, sir. I know his mother.”

“Then see if you can find him. Perhaps a word with him would clear up any mystery. It seems a bit too slight to accuse a fine man of crimes on such a small report.”

“Yes, sir,”

“You locate this fellow, and if not, I’d suggest you forget your suspicions. You are often a frivolous slave.” Mountbane thought on. “Why would you care, madam? Seems to me that you and Sir Tristan have been estranged more than you’ve been together.”

“No woman likes to see her husband leave her for another woman, no more than a man would enjoy his wife brooding for another man.”

“You truly think Lady Charlotte has some affection for your husband?”

“She’s been smitten for three years, sir, just as Tristan has been in love with her.”

Mountbane bade the woman go, though he dwelt on this discourse for some time, as it seemed to verify certain suspicions he had harbored in secret.

d

Having dispensed with his two men, with strict instructions not to return to the castle for a week, Tristan led the Lady Charlotte through the woods on horseback. It was her first time astride a horse, and the poor woman found the ride difficult and slow. They were together though, and that gave them cause to rejoice. Until they were beyond Mountbane’s reach, they knew their journey was a dangerous one.

At the outset, they made their trek in the direction of Sir Guy’s enclave, however, after having gone some distance, Tristan moved off the main thoroughfare—which was only a mere path—in the direction of the retreat where he and Charlotte would first make a temporary home. He had plans for venturing to a more permanent residence far from Ilusia’s grasp and the long reaches of Lord Nor’s imperious hand. But the timing of this matter was important, complicated by the threatening seasonal rains. Traipsing through deep mud would only hamper their travel.

The further they went, the more their freedom grew on them as a comforting cloak—though they said little of their elation for fear of jinxing their trip. It was enough that they were close to each other and the promise of a life they both could shape in the fashion that suited true lovers.

As dusk approached, the shadows inside the forest trees grew thick and heavy—surely as weighted by fear as they were the time of day. Though she’d been elated earlier in the day, Charlotte’s premonition of doom seemed to cloud any mirth that she had enjoyed the more they ventured into the darkness. She was afraid to speak of her concerns. Tristan was a most determined man—who would not think kindly about her trepidation.