Taming Maria, page 12
Arabella was on the edge of her seat with excitement, her cheeks pink without the aid of rouge. 'Well done! I proclaim you my chivalrous knights and will give my scarf to the winner as a token.'
They both faced her and bowed, and then Charles turned to Damien and said, 'Let's get on with it. I can't think why you sent me a challenge, Strafford, but I'm happy to trounce you.'
They fell on guard again, fighting even more fiercely. Sweat was running from beneath the masks and dark patches spread up from their armpits and across their backs, soaking through the quilting. Charles used a sweeping parry that left him open to Damien's quick riposte, the blade slipping under his guard. The rapiers locked together and they were close as lovers, then gave a heave and broke away, the swords ringing as they met again.
Now they were losing their tempers and Signor Mancini looked worried. 'Gentlemen, please to desist.'
They ignored him. Damien was in pursuit of Charles, forcing him to defend himself and Charles did so fiercely, aware that this was no longer a game. Arabella was on her feet, white-knuckled fingers gripped around the handle of her parasol. 'My God! Damien intends to harm him!'
Maria clutched Jane's arm. 'Why doesn't the master stop them?'
He tried, leaping between them and attempting to block their strokes. Damien lunged at Charles, backed him against the wall, their sword hilts tangled and his opponent's went flying off across the studio. Charles was at his mercy and Damien directed the blade at his heart, leaning forward slightly, the point already cutting into the jacket.
'I could end your life in a trice,' he muttered grimly, eyes blazing. 'This should teach you to leave my possessions alone. Lady Maria is not easy meat for a cur like you!'
'Please, gentlemen, I beg of you! Whatever quarrel lies between you do not bring my school into disrepute,' Signor Mancini pleaded, his sword hitting Damien's and forcing him to drop it. 'Come now, be friends and we will have a glass of wine, eh?'
Charles and Damien did not move, their gaze locked. Then Arabella sauntered across to them, sensual and lovely, using her assets to stop the quarrel. 'You were magnificent! I declare I'm all of a quiver! Isn't there a less dangerous way in which you can work off that marvellous virility?' She slipped a hand into the arm of each and drew them towards Maria and Jane, adding, 'The girls were thrilled by it, too. Weren't you, my dears?'
Both men had removed their masks and Damien stood there stiffly, saying, 'This is not a social occasion, Arabella. I had a bone to pick with Lord Bradley and think I have now made the position clear.'
She knows! Maria thought. He told her to bring us here so that I might watch Charles being humiliated, though it has not quite worked out that way. She knows and will do anything he commands. I can't trust her!
Charles inclined his head towards Damien and smiled faintly at Maria. There was promise in that smile and her heart fluttered, but she was afraid for him. Her guardian was utterly ruthless.
'I'll take the matter no further if you promise that you won't approach her again.' Damien was speaking like a high court judge.
'Sir, I can't do that. I never break my oath and don't want to risk doing so.' Charles bowed again, signalled to Bates who had been waiting, his master's clothing over one arm, and made his way into the changing room.
'You may leave now. I will bring Maria back to Armitage House,' Damien informed Arabella in a tone that brooked no argument.
'But her chaperone?' Arabella glanced at Sarah, who was all agog, her large breasts rising and falling with excitement. Even the feathers in her hat were bobbing.
'Maria will be with me, her guardian, and there is no need of her chaperone.' He spoke with such authority that no one argued, though Maria wanted to. She disliked the way in which he organised her life, giving her no say in the matter, but at the same time a part of her enjoyed it. It relieved her of responsibility. Someone else was in charge, a strong man taking control and making her his willing slave.
'Very well, sir.' Arabella signalled to Sarah and Jane. 'I will see you later, Maria.'
'Will Jane be gone by then?' Maria rushed over and they embraced, clinging tightly as if they were never to see one another again.
'I have arranged for her to go back to her parents at three o'clock, so advise that you say goodbye now.'
'I'll write,' Maria promised. 'Don't fret. All will be well, dearest friend.' But she spoke with more certainty than she felt, watching them leave and then rounding on Damien. 'Why have you done this? I want to be with Jane.'
'And Bradley? Do you prefer his company to mine?' He spoke so softly that had she not known him better she might have fancied he was being pleasant.
'I can't say. We've spent little time together,' she lied.
'Really?' he said dubiously and, catching her under the chin, lifted her face to his. She could feel herself drowning in the blackness of his pupils. 'I hope you are speaking the truth, Maria.'
He released her abruptly as Charles left the changing room with Bates. He was attired in his outdoor clothing. He paused to exchange a few words with Signor Mancini, ignoring both Maria and Damien. Then he left and she had the awful feeling she might never see him again.
'Come with me,' Damien ordered, and addressed the fencing master. 'The young lady is my ward. She will be with me at all times. I don't wish to be disturbed,' and he gave him a look that spoke volumes. They understood each other well. Damien was an influential person who it would be unwise to offend.
He walked Maria towards a door. It was opened from inside by his valet. 'Leave us, Johnson. Wait by the carriage,' Damien said crisply.
The room was small, and furnished with a mirror, a washbasin, soap and towels, coat-hooks and a couch. Damien stripped rapidly. Naked, he seemed even more powerful. His body was muscular and tanned, with wide shoulders that tapered to a V at his narrow waist. His hips were slim, his buttocks tight and his thighs and legs could have graced a Grecian statue of a god. His chest was covered with a dark pelt that faded to a line crossing his navel and spreading out to join his pubic hair. There was pride in his stance and he was excited, too, his penis rising; a long, thick, sturdy weapon he delighted in displaying to Maria.
'Take up the sponge and wash me,' he commanded, standing spread-legged in front of her.
She wanted to avert her eyes but the sight of him was too compelling. She could not help comparing him to Charles, and both were prime examples. The cock was fascinating yet repulsive, so far removed from Jane's delicate mons and damp crack. Had Maria still been a virgin it might have proved too much for her, but she was experienced now - not fully, but enough to make her realise the pleasure this engorged object could bring her.
She rose and, going to the washbasin, tipped some warm water from the jug and soaped the sponge, then took up a towel and returned to where he stood. He was caressing his cock, making it larger and redder, more aggressive looking. She ran the sponge over his body, washing away the sweat, then went lower to his genitals. She cleansed his balls and inner thighs and he watched her, reacting to her touch, his nipples crimping within their circles of hair, his cock stretching and hardening even more.
Maria paused, rinsing the sponge and then soaking it in clean water. 'No, I like it slippery with soap,' he barked, and she followed his instructions.
The front of her dress was damp now and he pushed his penis in and out of her hands. Recognising his need she went to work on him, making him her slave, unable to control his frantic desire. His head was back, his throat stretched, his breath ragged.
'Ah, yes,' he hissed, and bucked towards her. She sensed he was coming by the way his body jerked and the force of energy sweeping through him.
He shot into the sponge and over her hands and she wiped him clean again. There was nothing left for her to say - not at that moment.
He withdrew and she sat on the couch as he dressed, his movements deft and precise, stepping into his linen shorts, then the hose and tight breeches, the shirt and waistcoat, the jacket with its trim waist and the high stock and frothing, lace-trimmed cravat. He smoothed a hand over his fashionably tousled hair, then picked up his feather-edge chapeau-bras and looked down at her.
'Time to go, my dear.'
'Where?' She was more than just apprehensive. When Damien was being reasonable he was usually at his most destructive.
'To my house. You see, I'm not satisfied and need to examine you intimately. Don't worry. You will be chaperoned. I have engaged the services of Agatha Bailey.'
'Jane's duenna? But why?'
'She is a very thorough woman, and will enjoy working for me.'
'Does this mean I shall be forced to dismiss Mrs Jenkins?' The idea of the stiff and starchy Agatha appalled her, though no doubt her absence would be better for Jane who had complained about her sternness and also said that the maids were in fear of her and her cane.
'Certainly not. Bailey will be in my employ, following my instructions. I gather she has a bent for discipline. Jenkins will still perform her usual duties.' So saying, he escorted her out of the studio and through the front door to where his coach awaited.
Maria travelled alone with Damien. She was very aware of him lounging on the upholstered seat next to her, tapping his cane lightly against his lips and staring from the window as they left the centre of London and took the road to Hampstead. His body swayed towards her as they jolted over the ruts and he neither spoke nor touched her. This in itself was unnerving.
The idea of being incarcerated in Strafford Hall with him, even for a short duration, was anathema to her. She knotted her hands together in her lap as she brooded on his motives, tormented by guilt. If he decided to subject her to examination, then her secret would be out and all would know she had lost her virginity. The coach reached a hill and started to descend, careering wildly and coming to a jarring halt at the bottom when its wheels encountered a pothole. Maria yelped as she was flung from her seat, but Damien caught her and hauled her back.
The vehicle continued its bumpy journey, but Damien did not release her. With his free hand he pushed back her skirt, baring her legs and downy crack, his insistent fingers opening her thighs so he might gaze at her secrets. She made a feeble attempt to stop those predatory fingers, but the pleasure they evoked was too great to resist. Terrified lest he enter further and discover that there was no membrane to prevent penetration, she tried to push him away and close her knees.
He smiled grimly. 'Unwilling to have me explore you? Have you something to hide, Maria? Are you, perchance, bereft of the keeper of your treasure?'
She shook her head, trying to avoid his lips that were now moving seductively around the rim of her ear, tongue-tip darting inside, causing havoc with her resistance. He found her pleasure nodule and stroked it, keeping it wet and slippery from the dew seeping from her vagina. His touch was feather-light and she shivered, parting her legs for him, forgetful of anything except the pleasure he was bestowing on her.
No longer gentle he thrust a finger within her, then two, stretching her delicate interior. 'Ah, no hymen. You have been a wicked wanton, Maria, and I'm not pleased,' he muttered, his voice hardening as he poked in further, making her wince and try to draw back. He would not permit this, holding her tightly and filling her with his merciless fingers.
'Sir, please... have mercy,' she begged, while he continued to arouse her clitoris at the same time as plundering her love-channel, making her experience pain laced with pleasure.
Abandoning herself to him, forgetful of everything, even Charles, fired by their earlier encounter and needing his large phallus to fill her, she wound her arms round his neck, drawing him closer. He withdrew abruptly.
'You have disappointed me, Maria. I wanted to be the one to deflower you, not some strutting braggart like Bradley. If you find yourself with child by him I shall have you sent to a convent and order the babe to be smothered at birth.'
'You no longer intend to marry me?' Maria asked, bewildered by his actions and willing to agree to anything if he would only satisfy the craving he had aroused.
He smile mockingly, sitting back and wiping his fingers fastidiously on a lawn handkerchief, then raising it to his nostrils as if a trace of her sexual fragrance lingered there. 'I am master,' he said. 'Of course I shall marry you. Your fortune will be mine, as will your person. I fully intend to enjoy both.'
'Very well, sir. I agree to anything as long as you don't leave me on the edge like this.' Maria could not believe she was saying such a degrading thing.
He laughed again, a chilling sound. 'Whatever I command you will do. Is this understood? As for bringing you off? I may, or then again I may not. The decision is mine. I could take you over and over and never give you relief. I could tie your hands in such a manner that you would be unable to masturbate. Think how that would feel? I don't give a damn how much you hate me, and it would be wise to fear me, too. Is this understood?'
'Yes,' she cried, able to deny him nothing in that fraught moment of desperate desire, losing sight of any principles she might have had.
His stare held a wealth of knowledge and depravity. He had seen and taken part in actions that she could not begin to comprehend. 'Say it again. Call me master.'
'Yes, master,' she repeated, welcoming his touch as he pushed aside her bodice and lowered his mouth to her nipples. At the same time he pressed down on her mound, his fingers parting the swollen lips and finding the hard nub between.
She sprawled on the seat for him, the carriage shaking as it bowled along, and Damien's fingers rubbed and stroked, his thumb entering her vagina, while he kept up that divine frottage on her clitoris. She could feel her orgasm rising as she strained towards the peak. Nothing mattered but this bliss. Nothing existed but Damien as he slowly, inexorably brought her to the brink. He kept her there for an instant and then toppled her over into a climax so intense that she lost consciousness for a second.
She came to herself to find that she was lying against Damien, trembling from head to foot. Now remorse took the place of desire and she hated her actions. What manner of woman was she that her lust took over, making her forget every other consideration? He sat up, freeing himself from her and straightening his cravat. The coach had stopped. Maria hurriedly rearranged her bodice and shrouded herself in her cloak, but was sure that everyone who saw her would know what she had been doing. They would be sniggering, gossiping, giving her side-long glances.
Nothing happened, however, and she was greeted at the top of the steps by the housekeeper and butler and ushered inside. Lordly and commanding, Damien ordered that refreshments were to be served in his private apartment and took Maria there without preamble.
Chapter 9
Maria was alone with Damien in his stronghold. She feared yet desired him, wished that Sarah or Jane were with her, would even have welcomed her aunt. Yet that reckless self that lay hidden in her psyche rejoiced that there was no one to come between them.
He took her upstairs to his private apartment. It was gloomy, though richly decorated and magnificent, the air heavy with the smell of the incense smouldering in elaborate wrought-iron burners. He had gathered treasures from every quarter of the globe to embellish his lair, a connoisseur of art and all things exotic and beautiful. He was proud of his skill, pointing out several objects as he poured himself a snifter of brandy from a cut-glass decanter.
He nodded towards a statue on a plinth. 'This is the goddess Kali from the Hindu pantheon. Isn't she amazing?'
Maria thought her hideous, with her many arms and fierce expression. 'I don't like her. She's frightening.'
'Ah, this is but one manifestation of her. She is the mother who defends her children, the vengeful woman who it is not wise to offend. One day you may come to understand her.'
She followed him as he toured the room, pausing before a life-sized painting of lovers in the throes of sexual abandon. 'How could models pose like that?' she exclaimed.
He chuckled, deep in his throat. 'People will do anything for money.'
'I wouldn't!' she averred stoutly.
'You're a pampered child. You know nothing of hardship, hunger and poverty.'
'Do you, my lord?' she shot back.
'Touché!' His smile deepened. 'You're a fiery little filly, aren't you? I like that.' He did not move from the painting, studying it closely. 'See how cleverly the artist has captured the woman's moment of bliss. The eyes half-closed, the mouth open languorously. Just as you looked when I brought you off, Maria. Were you equally carried away when Bradley penetrated your virgin hole?'
There was no longer any pleasantness in his voice. His eyes were cold, his face set in severe lines and his grip on her upper arm painful.
'How do you know it was him?'
'I have my informants. There is little that you do or say that doesn't come back to me. Half your worth has gone now you've been fucked. My fingers met no obstruction, and soon I shall use my cock to prove your wantonness. But first, come over here. I have something else to show you.'
He marched her across the floor to what looked like a curtained alcove. Holding back the drapes, he revealed a window giving access into the next room.
'It's Jane's chaperone,' Maria whispered, astonished by the sight of Agatha, wearing nothing but corsets and stockings, beating a cringing servant girl whose raised skirts revealed a plump posterior striped with scarlet weals.
'No longer a duenna. I told you, she now works for me, and revels in it,' he commented, one hand caressing Maria's buttocks, scrunching up her flimsy dress until he encountered bare flesh.
'How is it that we can see them and they are unaware of us?' Maria attempted to pull away, but he would have none of this, his grip tightening painfully.
'Ah, that is one of my little secrets. All they see is a mirror,' he murmured, inserting a finger into the crack between her bottom cheeks. 'It was through just such a one that I saw you with Bradley. Be careful in future, for you will never know if or when I am observing you.'
'You're a devil!' she hissed, gasping as the finger rimmed her anus.
They both faced her and bowed, and then Charles turned to Damien and said, 'Let's get on with it. I can't think why you sent me a challenge, Strafford, but I'm happy to trounce you.'
They fell on guard again, fighting even more fiercely. Sweat was running from beneath the masks and dark patches spread up from their armpits and across their backs, soaking through the quilting. Charles used a sweeping parry that left him open to Damien's quick riposte, the blade slipping under his guard. The rapiers locked together and they were close as lovers, then gave a heave and broke away, the swords ringing as they met again.
Now they were losing their tempers and Signor Mancini looked worried. 'Gentlemen, please to desist.'
They ignored him. Damien was in pursuit of Charles, forcing him to defend himself and Charles did so fiercely, aware that this was no longer a game. Arabella was on her feet, white-knuckled fingers gripped around the handle of her parasol. 'My God! Damien intends to harm him!'
Maria clutched Jane's arm. 'Why doesn't the master stop them?'
He tried, leaping between them and attempting to block their strokes. Damien lunged at Charles, backed him against the wall, their sword hilts tangled and his opponent's went flying off across the studio. Charles was at his mercy and Damien directed the blade at his heart, leaning forward slightly, the point already cutting into the jacket.
'I could end your life in a trice,' he muttered grimly, eyes blazing. 'This should teach you to leave my possessions alone. Lady Maria is not easy meat for a cur like you!'
'Please, gentlemen, I beg of you! Whatever quarrel lies between you do not bring my school into disrepute,' Signor Mancini pleaded, his sword hitting Damien's and forcing him to drop it. 'Come now, be friends and we will have a glass of wine, eh?'
Charles and Damien did not move, their gaze locked. Then Arabella sauntered across to them, sensual and lovely, using her assets to stop the quarrel. 'You were magnificent! I declare I'm all of a quiver! Isn't there a less dangerous way in which you can work off that marvellous virility?' She slipped a hand into the arm of each and drew them towards Maria and Jane, adding, 'The girls were thrilled by it, too. Weren't you, my dears?'
Both men had removed their masks and Damien stood there stiffly, saying, 'This is not a social occasion, Arabella. I had a bone to pick with Lord Bradley and think I have now made the position clear.'
She knows! Maria thought. He told her to bring us here so that I might watch Charles being humiliated, though it has not quite worked out that way. She knows and will do anything he commands. I can't trust her!
Charles inclined his head towards Damien and smiled faintly at Maria. There was promise in that smile and her heart fluttered, but she was afraid for him. Her guardian was utterly ruthless.
'I'll take the matter no further if you promise that you won't approach her again.' Damien was speaking like a high court judge.
'Sir, I can't do that. I never break my oath and don't want to risk doing so.' Charles bowed again, signalled to Bates who had been waiting, his master's clothing over one arm, and made his way into the changing room.
'You may leave now. I will bring Maria back to Armitage House,' Damien informed Arabella in a tone that brooked no argument.
'But her chaperone?' Arabella glanced at Sarah, who was all agog, her large breasts rising and falling with excitement. Even the feathers in her hat were bobbing.
'Maria will be with me, her guardian, and there is no need of her chaperone.' He spoke with such authority that no one argued, though Maria wanted to. She disliked the way in which he organised her life, giving her no say in the matter, but at the same time a part of her enjoyed it. It relieved her of responsibility. Someone else was in charge, a strong man taking control and making her his willing slave.
'Very well, sir.' Arabella signalled to Sarah and Jane. 'I will see you later, Maria.'
'Will Jane be gone by then?' Maria rushed over and they embraced, clinging tightly as if they were never to see one another again.
'I have arranged for her to go back to her parents at three o'clock, so advise that you say goodbye now.'
'I'll write,' Maria promised. 'Don't fret. All will be well, dearest friend.' But she spoke with more certainty than she felt, watching them leave and then rounding on Damien. 'Why have you done this? I want to be with Jane.'
'And Bradley? Do you prefer his company to mine?' He spoke so softly that had she not known him better she might have fancied he was being pleasant.
'I can't say. We've spent little time together,' she lied.
'Really?' he said dubiously and, catching her under the chin, lifted her face to his. She could feel herself drowning in the blackness of his pupils. 'I hope you are speaking the truth, Maria.'
He released her abruptly as Charles left the changing room with Bates. He was attired in his outdoor clothing. He paused to exchange a few words with Signor Mancini, ignoring both Maria and Damien. Then he left and she had the awful feeling she might never see him again.
'Come with me,' Damien ordered, and addressed the fencing master. 'The young lady is my ward. She will be with me at all times. I don't wish to be disturbed,' and he gave him a look that spoke volumes. They understood each other well. Damien was an influential person who it would be unwise to offend.
He walked Maria towards a door. It was opened from inside by his valet. 'Leave us, Johnson. Wait by the carriage,' Damien said crisply.
The room was small, and furnished with a mirror, a washbasin, soap and towels, coat-hooks and a couch. Damien stripped rapidly. Naked, he seemed even more powerful. His body was muscular and tanned, with wide shoulders that tapered to a V at his narrow waist. His hips were slim, his buttocks tight and his thighs and legs could have graced a Grecian statue of a god. His chest was covered with a dark pelt that faded to a line crossing his navel and spreading out to join his pubic hair. There was pride in his stance and he was excited, too, his penis rising; a long, thick, sturdy weapon he delighted in displaying to Maria.
'Take up the sponge and wash me,' he commanded, standing spread-legged in front of her.
She wanted to avert her eyes but the sight of him was too compelling. She could not help comparing him to Charles, and both were prime examples. The cock was fascinating yet repulsive, so far removed from Jane's delicate mons and damp crack. Had Maria still been a virgin it might have proved too much for her, but she was experienced now - not fully, but enough to make her realise the pleasure this engorged object could bring her.
She rose and, going to the washbasin, tipped some warm water from the jug and soaped the sponge, then took up a towel and returned to where he stood. He was caressing his cock, making it larger and redder, more aggressive looking. She ran the sponge over his body, washing away the sweat, then went lower to his genitals. She cleansed his balls and inner thighs and he watched her, reacting to her touch, his nipples crimping within their circles of hair, his cock stretching and hardening even more.
Maria paused, rinsing the sponge and then soaking it in clean water. 'No, I like it slippery with soap,' he barked, and she followed his instructions.
The front of her dress was damp now and he pushed his penis in and out of her hands. Recognising his need she went to work on him, making him her slave, unable to control his frantic desire. His head was back, his throat stretched, his breath ragged.
'Ah, yes,' he hissed, and bucked towards her. She sensed he was coming by the way his body jerked and the force of energy sweeping through him.
He shot into the sponge and over her hands and she wiped him clean again. There was nothing left for her to say - not at that moment.
He withdrew and she sat on the couch as he dressed, his movements deft and precise, stepping into his linen shorts, then the hose and tight breeches, the shirt and waistcoat, the jacket with its trim waist and the high stock and frothing, lace-trimmed cravat. He smoothed a hand over his fashionably tousled hair, then picked up his feather-edge chapeau-bras and looked down at her.
'Time to go, my dear.'
'Where?' She was more than just apprehensive. When Damien was being reasonable he was usually at his most destructive.
'To my house. You see, I'm not satisfied and need to examine you intimately. Don't worry. You will be chaperoned. I have engaged the services of Agatha Bailey.'
'Jane's duenna? But why?'
'She is a very thorough woman, and will enjoy working for me.'
'Does this mean I shall be forced to dismiss Mrs Jenkins?' The idea of the stiff and starchy Agatha appalled her, though no doubt her absence would be better for Jane who had complained about her sternness and also said that the maids were in fear of her and her cane.
'Certainly not. Bailey will be in my employ, following my instructions. I gather she has a bent for discipline. Jenkins will still perform her usual duties.' So saying, he escorted her out of the studio and through the front door to where his coach awaited.
Maria travelled alone with Damien. She was very aware of him lounging on the upholstered seat next to her, tapping his cane lightly against his lips and staring from the window as they left the centre of London and took the road to Hampstead. His body swayed towards her as they jolted over the ruts and he neither spoke nor touched her. This in itself was unnerving.
The idea of being incarcerated in Strafford Hall with him, even for a short duration, was anathema to her. She knotted her hands together in her lap as she brooded on his motives, tormented by guilt. If he decided to subject her to examination, then her secret would be out and all would know she had lost her virginity. The coach reached a hill and started to descend, careering wildly and coming to a jarring halt at the bottom when its wheels encountered a pothole. Maria yelped as she was flung from her seat, but Damien caught her and hauled her back.
The vehicle continued its bumpy journey, but Damien did not release her. With his free hand he pushed back her skirt, baring her legs and downy crack, his insistent fingers opening her thighs so he might gaze at her secrets. She made a feeble attempt to stop those predatory fingers, but the pleasure they evoked was too great to resist. Terrified lest he enter further and discover that there was no membrane to prevent penetration, she tried to push him away and close her knees.
He smiled grimly. 'Unwilling to have me explore you? Have you something to hide, Maria? Are you, perchance, bereft of the keeper of your treasure?'
She shook her head, trying to avoid his lips that were now moving seductively around the rim of her ear, tongue-tip darting inside, causing havoc with her resistance. He found her pleasure nodule and stroked it, keeping it wet and slippery from the dew seeping from her vagina. His touch was feather-light and she shivered, parting her legs for him, forgetful of anything except the pleasure he was bestowing on her.
No longer gentle he thrust a finger within her, then two, stretching her delicate interior. 'Ah, no hymen. You have been a wicked wanton, Maria, and I'm not pleased,' he muttered, his voice hardening as he poked in further, making her wince and try to draw back. He would not permit this, holding her tightly and filling her with his merciless fingers.
'Sir, please... have mercy,' she begged, while he continued to arouse her clitoris at the same time as plundering her love-channel, making her experience pain laced with pleasure.
Abandoning herself to him, forgetful of everything, even Charles, fired by their earlier encounter and needing his large phallus to fill her, she wound her arms round his neck, drawing him closer. He withdrew abruptly.
'You have disappointed me, Maria. I wanted to be the one to deflower you, not some strutting braggart like Bradley. If you find yourself with child by him I shall have you sent to a convent and order the babe to be smothered at birth.'
'You no longer intend to marry me?' Maria asked, bewildered by his actions and willing to agree to anything if he would only satisfy the craving he had aroused.
He smile mockingly, sitting back and wiping his fingers fastidiously on a lawn handkerchief, then raising it to his nostrils as if a trace of her sexual fragrance lingered there. 'I am master,' he said. 'Of course I shall marry you. Your fortune will be mine, as will your person. I fully intend to enjoy both.'
'Very well, sir. I agree to anything as long as you don't leave me on the edge like this.' Maria could not believe she was saying such a degrading thing.
He laughed again, a chilling sound. 'Whatever I command you will do. Is this understood? As for bringing you off? I may, or then again I may not. The decision is mine. I could take you over and over and never give you relief. I could tie your hands in such a manner that you would be unable to masturbate. Think how that would feel? I don't give a damn how much you hate me, and it would be wise to fear me, too. Is this understood?'
'Yes,' she cried, able to deny him nothing in that fraught moment of desperate desire, losing sight of any principles she might have had.
His stare held a wealth of knowledge and depravity. He had seen and taken part in actions that she could not begin to comprehend. 'Say it again. Call me master.'
'Yes, master,' she repeated, welcoming his touch as he pushed aside her bodice and lowered his mouth to her nipples. At the same time he pressed down on her mound, his fingers parting the swollen lips and finding the hard nub between.
She sprawled on the seat for him, the carriage shaking as it bowled along, and Damien's fingers rubbed and stroked, his thumb entering her vagina, while he kept up that divine frottage on her clitoris. She could feel her orgasm rising as she strained towards the peak. Nothing mattered but this bliss. Nothing existed but Damien as he slowly, inexorably brought her to the brink. He kept her there for an instant and then toppled her over into a climax so intense that she lost consciousness for a second.
She came to herself to find that she was lying against Damien, trembling from head to foot. Now remorse took the place of desire and she hated her actions. What manner of woman was she that her lust took over, making her forget every other consideration? He sat up, freeing himself from her and straightening his cravat. The coach had stopped. Maria hurriedly rearranged her bodice and shrouded herself in her cloak, but was sure that everyone who saw her would know what she had been doing. They would be sniggering, gossiping, giving her side-long glances.
Nothing happened, however, and she was greeted at the top of the steps by the housekeeper and butler and ushered inside. Lordly and commanding, Damien ordered that refreshments were to be served in his private apartment and took Maria there without preamble.
Chapter 9
Maria was alone with Damien in his stronghold. She feared yet desired him, wished that Sarah or Jane were with her, would even have welcomed her aunt. Yet that reckless self that lay hidden in her psyche rejoiced that there was no one to come between them.
He took her upstairs to his private apartment. It was gloomy, though richly decorated and magnificent, the air heavy with the smell of the incense smouldering in elaborate wrought-iron burners. He had gathered treasures from every quarter of the globe to embellish his lair, a connoisseur of art and all things exotic and beautiful. He was proud of his skill, pointing out several objects as he poured himself a snifter of brandy from a cut-glass decanter.
He nodded towards a statue on a plinth. 'This is the goddess Kali from the Hindu pantheon. Isn't she amazing?'
Maria thought her hideous, with her many arms and fierce expression. 'I don't like her. She's frightening.'
'Ah, this is but one manifestation of her. She is the mother who defends her children, the vengeful woman who it is not wise to offend. One day you may come to understand her.'
She followed him as he toured the room, pausing before a life-sized painting of lovers in the throes of sexual abandon. 'How could models pose like that?' she exclaimed.
He chuckled, deep in his throat. 'People will do anything for money.'
'I wouldn't!' she averred stoutly.
'You're a pampered child. You know nothing of hardship, hunger and poverty.'
'Do you, my lord?' she shot back.
'Touché!' His smile deepened. 'You're a fiery little filly, aren't you? I like that.' He did not move from the painting, studying it closely. 'See how cleverly the artist has captured the woman's moment of bliss. The eyes half-closed, the mouth open languorously. Just as you looked when I brought you off, Maria. Were you equally carried away when Bradley penetrated your virgin hole?'
There was no longer any pleasantness in his voice. His eyes were cold, his face set in severe lines and his grip on her upper arm painful.
'How do you know it was him?'
'I have my informants. There is little that you do or say that doesn't come back to me. Half your worth has gone now you've been fucked. My fingers met no obstruction, and soon I shall use my cock to prove your wantonness. But first, come over here. I have something else to show you.'
He marched her across the floor to what looked like a curtained alcove. Holding back the drapes, he revealed a window giving access into the next room.
'It's Jane's chaperone,' Maria whispered, astonished by the sight of Agatha, wearing nothing but corsets and stockings, beating a cringing servant girl whose raised skirts revealed a plump posterior striped with scarlet weals.
'No longer a duenna. I told you, she now works for me, and revels in it,' he commented, one hand caressing Maria's buttocks, scrunching up her flimsy dress until he encountered bare flesh.
'How is it that we can see them and they are unaware of us?' Maria attempted to pull away, but he would have none of this, his grip tightening painfully.
'Ah, that is one of my little secrets. All they see is a mirror,' he murmured, inserting a finger into the crack between her bottom cheeks. 'It was through just such a one that I saw you with Bradley. Be careful in future, for you will never know if or when I am observing you.'
'You're a devil!' she hissed, gasping as the finger rimmed her anus.
