London! Read online

  What did he hate about her people?

  She didn't know but she knew that it wasn't her imagination. It was a real and very obvious hate. The one time she had lapsed into the native tongue of her people he had backhanded her across the room. His eyes had glittered and turned dark, and the punishment that had followed— no she didn't want to live through that again.

  “You may speak again, just recall your place.”

  “Thank you, master.” As if she would ever forget.

  “A good bath and then your welts can be tended to.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on her upturned ass. Heat washed through her body as she remembered her thighs were still spread and had been even when the maid had entered the room. Not something she could change now but no wonder the servants here could only look on her as a piece of property. It was that or a whore, and a whore would have at least been paid.

  She glanced back over her shoulder, trying to peer at the marks that had been all but burned into her back.

  “Don't twist like that, it will only hurt more. After they have been tended I'll allow you to glance at them via a mirror.” He tapped her still heated ass sharply. “Twisting will only pull the muscles and I will not have you damaging my property.”

  Her jaw clenched if only for an instant. “Yes, master.”

  “You still fight that, on occasions don't you?”

  She frowned slightly. “Master?”

  “You fight the fact that you belong to me, it doesn't matter how hard I beat you, or the trouble I take to impress upon you the depth of the ownership, a part of you still refuses to accept that.” His hand cupped one ass cheek. “Perhaps I even enjoy that struggle with you. Anyone else I would have long since sold off, or had killed, for the way you fight against my rule. Oh it's not the blatant attempt to run, or the back chat, just that thread of defiance that never quite goes away.”

  Celeste chewed slowly on the inside of her lips and edged her legs closed just a little. “I'm not sure I'll ever fully accept things, master. It's just a part of who I am.”

  “Indeed, and yet you take pride in it as well, but these are things we can and will discuss another time.” He stood up as the maid knocked on the door, then entered the room with three others, carrying dozens of buckets with them, two men following behind with the half filled tin tub.

  Celeste quickly closed her legs as they walked in. She couldn't do anything else to cover up but at least she could prevent them from seeing her swollen and very well used sex.

  “Set the tub down there, in front of the fire and leave us.”

  The maids bobbed their understanding of the orders, set down the buckets and the ointment and cloths he had ordered them to bring in before they scooted back out of the bedroom and closed the door over.

  “Now comes the difficult part for you, my lass. You need to move. Or will I have to lift you up from the bed in order to get you into the tub?”

  She glanced back at him, then over at the tub that was now filled with warm water. “I think I can do it by myself.”

  Thinking and being able to where different things and no matter how hard she tried to move there was no way she was going to be able to lift up from the bed on her own. She pressed her hands down on the bed and struggled to roll from it, but the welts screamed a warning across her back as she tried to move. Sweat beaded across her back as she tried again, struggling to regain some measure of control over her unwilling body.

  “You don't have to do this on your own,” he rested one hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

  Where were the warnings? What about the threats that she was used to? No move now or risk displeasing me which went again everything she knew about the man she now belonged to.

  “You're my property, part of owning you also means taking care of you. Perhaps it's a concept that you find hard to understand, but you're my toy to all intents and purposes, if I break you I can't play with you.” He leaned down and scooped her up from the bed, cradling her against his chest.

  A toy.

  She wanted to protest that fact, but it would have been pointless at best. She was his, and a toy, a beast or an animal depending on what mood he was in at the time. No matter what she thought about it she was owned by him and knew only too well that escaping wasn't a possibility. Especially after the way she had almost grown used to being treated. No rights, no say in her life, a pretty little pet that was allowed to use her mind just as long as she remembered when it was best to keep silent.

  “This will hurt, but try to recall it's for the best.”

  She tensed even before he lowered her into the water. Fire washed over her back, seeping into each and every welt that he'd laid across her form with such careful attention and forced her to relive the strikes all over again. Instinct took over as she turned and tried to grab hold of the edge of the tub in order to pull out of the water. Her thighs screamed in pain as she struggled against the tub.

  “Relax, struggling against this will only make it harder for you and I'm not doing this as a punishment.”

  She winced as he grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her to remain in the tub. Yes, she understood he wasn't doing this to her as a means of punishment, but that still didn't stop it from hurting. Celeste glanced up and caught a glimpse of the cold, hard gaze she had grown used to. If she kept the struggles going when he had told her not to then sooner or later he was indeed going to find a way to punish her. Not a situation she wanted to face.

  With a long, slow breath she forced her body to accept the pain and tried to settle back into the tub.

  “Better.” Davien nodded and sat down close by.

  As the sting eased Celeste closed her eyes and began to relax into the warm water. So maybe it didn't hurt quite as badly as she had first thought, but after the pain he had put her through she couldn't be blamed for wanting to avoid more of the same. Her time with Davien had so far taught her one truth, he enjoyed inflicting what amounted to sexual torture on her helpless form. If it left her cringing, screaming and humiliated then so much the better, and yet afterwards he tried to tend the injuries.

  Yes, she knew his logic behind it, but she had also come to crave these tender moments.

  “The knots should start to ease soon, then we will see to the welts.”

  “Yes, master.”

  “There will be marks.”

  She could almost hear the smug tone in his voice. “I'm sure of that, master.”

  “Ones that will make the wearing of some of your new clothes a little uncomfortable, but it will be worth it.”

  New clothing? She'd barely been permitted to wear any clothing in her time with him. Naked was his preferred choice for her appearance, or so it had appeared. Had she done something that had now earned her the right to wear real clothing again? No, more likely he meant something that would leave her feeling almost naked and would show off her body and the marks he had left on it, to the best advantage.

  “You look somewhat bemused by the mention of clothing, my slut.”

  Celeste nodded softly, then pushed back the stray strands of white blonde hair from her face. “I presumed you meant clothing that was suitable for play, master.”

  “Not quite, though one item might well feel that way. I have heard dozens of complaints from women about the tortures of wearing a corset and you will be wearing one beneath your evening gowns.”

  “Gowns?” She sat bolt up right only to then wince at the sharp pains her sudden movement had caused.

  “It is traditional to wear them during when out in the ‘ton.”

  “Master?”

  “We will be leaving for London tomorrow morning. I have had some clothing made for you and you'll try them on today. Any alterations should be minor ones and can be done today or dealt with when we arrive at my town house.” He combed his fingers through her hair.

  “Why are you taking me to London, Master?”

  “I have business there that might take me some time to complet
e and I see no sense in leaving you behind. Why would I deprive myself of the pleasure of your company for anything up to three months?”

  Three months in London?

  Was her sister already there? If so then perhaps she might find a way of escaping? Or getting a message home? It was a slim chance but still...

  “There are some people I would like you to meet as well, the sort of men and women who share my taste in entertainments.”

  “Like the ones who were here for the hunt, master?” She shifted slightly in the tub and tried not to let the water spill over the edges. Not that he would insist she clean it up, but it would mean the maids entering again and she needed time to digest the news.

  “Yes, there might be one or two familiar faces from that hunt.”

  That part she wasn't so sure about. Men who already knew how he treated her and what he expected from her? She'd not be able to hide her new station in life and what if they slipped and mentioned it to someone else?

  Heat coursed into her cheeks.

  “My friends are discrete, slut, on that you need not worry. Not a one of us wishes to deal with the problems society would rain down on us should our desires be made public.” He grasped her hair tightly and forced her head back against the rim of the tub. “Be warned, I'll not take kindly to you trying to cause a scene. Should you attempt to out us then I will make you beg for death— days before I grant you that sweet release.”

  CHAPTER III

  His cold words still echoed through her mind as Celeste stood in the dressing room and let the seamstress guide her through the fittings.

  Two corsets, boned and rigid had been forced onto her body, the strings tied tight enough that she had been forced to take small shallow breaths in order to breathe. One had now been packed away leaving her with the better of the two as she was put through her paces with the gowns, under garments and assorted sundries.

  Silk stockings now clad her legs, held up by delicate garters. The height of luxury, yet she still longed for the finger woven garters she had used with her woolen stockings on the day Davien had snatched her from the side of the road.

  Strange the simple things she missed.

  “How are the fittings going?”

  “Very well indeed, M'lord. She looks a treat in the gowns. The measurements you provided were spot on.”

  Celeste tensed and fought the urge to turn at the sound of his voice. Being on her feet when he entered was an unusual experience at best now, but with the needles, corset and shoes she knew better than to try and kneel unless he directly commanded her to do so. Already she'd been pricked a dozen times with the tiny silver needles and had no desire to add to that number.

  “The blue and silver is appealing on her.”

  “Not quite the colors of the season, M'lord but they do look a treat on her.”

  Was she even there to them? Beyond being a dressed up play thing?

  “I don't care about the colors of the season, I simply wish her to look the part. If the eyes of every man and half the women are on her when she enters an event then I will be satisfied.”

  A show piece then? That fitted with her understanding of Davien. Play her up as some well bred young woman he had decided to accept into his life, then demean her behind closed doors. Oh he would enjoy slapping her down after the parties but at least she would, for a while at least, be able to forget the fact that she had been reduced to a slave for his pleasure.

  “The red gown suited her very well, M'lord. A dramatic color on her, though I believe the neckline is, perhaps, a little low for this season's styles.”

  “And I care about fashion why?” The familiar coating of ice enclosed his words.

  “No M'lord, I never meant to imply you should. It's just that, well I thought you might want to be aware of the source of any potential comments.”

  The red gown, yes it had been low cut. Almost too low. The wrong movement and she had feared her nipples would show. Just how he expected her to— Celeste frowned, for a moment she had almost made the mistake of forgetting she had no say on this. If he wanted to parade her through a dance wearing the outrageous clothing of an American salon girl then that's exactly what would happen.

  “And the black?”

  “Looks exquisite, M'lord.”

  “Good. Her other clothing?”

  “Will be waiting for you both at the town house and her travel clothing has been laid to one side ready for tomorrow.”

  Celeste glanced over towards the lavender travel dress. Not a color she would have chosen herself, but in an odd way it had suited her. The heavier wool of the hard wearing clothing was something she was more used to, but the quality was higher and the cut of the cloth a little more daring.

  “She'll wear the corset when we are going out, but I see no need for her to wear it during traveling. I wish the welts to heal some before we begin to explore the delights of London.”

  That was at least something. The corset did press on the welts and traveling by coach with the bones of the corset rubbing at the raised marks would have introduced her to an entirely new type of pain.

  How long would it take for them to travel to London?

  She all but winced at the thought of the jolting coach and the welts on her back. Even without the corset the trip stood the chance of being a painful one for her and that was something she didn't like the sound of.

  “M'lord, perhaps it would be best to delay the trip a few days and grant the lassie a chance to heal. Those are nasty welts and... ”

  “Are you trying to tell me what to do?”

  “No, M'lord it's just that... ”

  “Or you believe that I don't know how to care for my property?”

  The seamstress coughed and fell silent.

  “She will travel with me tomorrow morning. And you will learn not to question my judgment or I will cease to find your services of use to me, is that clear?”

  “Crystal, M'lord.”

  “Leave us.”

  The quick footsteps of the seamstress through the room marked her exit.

  “Kneel.”

  She wanted to protest that kneeling and corset did not go hand in hand but after his conversation with the seamstress, angering him further was not the wisest course of action. Celeste turned, taking a slow breath as she did so, her fingers tangled in the outer layer of the blue and silver dress. At least she still wasn't wearing shoes. They had been tried on quickly then discarded for packing before Davien had entered the room.

  Had he really meant for her to kneel?

  Silly question, of course he had.

  She took a step forward on the rug and lowered herself slowly down to her knees, gathering the dress as she did so until it billowed out around her kneeling form.

  “Good, you understand the care needed in obeying that order.” Davien nodded his approval. “The dress suits you.”

  “Thank you master.”

  “You look like a lady.”

  She blushed and lowered her gaze.

  “A pity you don't sound like one. I suggest you take pains to subdue your Irish accent as much as possible. Listen to how those around you speak and develop a more cultured tone, it will make your time in the ‘ton more bearable.”

  “Thank you, master.” There were those who would be cruel just because of her accent? Other than Davien of course.

  “You will also spend the time learning some other skills, my little pet. Such as how to mask your emotions around others. A wall of ice will be required and it will amuse me to then strip that wall away when we are alone.”

  “Ice? A Wall? I'm not sure I understand.”

  “A mask to hide behind, to cover your emotions from the gaze of others.” He leaned down, caressing her cheek with his fingertips. “You have the coloring to pull it off quite well and there is more than a touch of the ice maiden within you, or was before I showed you how to live.”

  Celeste frowned slightly as she listened.

  “You had gained something o
f a reputation that no man could touch you. Recall how you dealt with the men in your life prior to me.”

  The pieces began to fall into place. “You mean how I kept them at bay, master?”

  “Exactly. That wall of ice. It will amuse me to see you brush off the admirers that will, no doubt, flock to you once they realize we are not engaged. They will assume, wrongly, that you will lift your skirts for any man that looks at you.”

  “You plan on letting them believe that I am a whore, master?”

  “Not in so many words, no. But we live together. We are neither married nor engaged, they will draw their own conclusions and that mask of ice will serve a very real purpose in this situation.”

  Her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, heat rushed into her cheeks as she struggled to contain the anger that all but exploded into life. He was going to take her into London and set her up as a target for gossip, assumptions and cruel words and all because it amused him?

  “I can see how angry you are and with me I expect to see your emotions, but with them you will hide it, do you understand slut?”

  Celeste looked down at her hands, then touched her cheeks as she became more aware of the heat. “Yes, master.”

  “Good. It will take time but by the end of the season it is a skill you will have perfected.”

  No room for argument, or suggestions, it was simply the only thing he would now accept from her. At least this time it was a skill that would help her, if she could prevent others from guessing how she felt, or clearly seeing her emotions, then so much the better. It would grant her some way of protecting her from what might otherwise be the hateful barbs that would be flung at her.

  She tried to take a deep breath but the corset dug into her sides, restricting her breathing within the tight confines of the whale bone construction. The bones pressed against the welts, reawakening the pain he had taken such care to inflict on her body. She tried to ignore it, to push it to the back of her mind but the frame of the corset made that next to impossible.