Sans Regret Page 5

  “I’ve seen you well enough. You’re agitated and careless. That’s unlike you.”

  So what if she was? Who wouldn’t be, having to face a huge, overbearing…man? True he handled himself with grace for such a large fellow. True his kisses cajoled rather than forced. His type always took advantage of women for their own pleasure, though, and tossed their conquests aside when they grew bored. Wortham might be more skilled than the others but he cared only about his own enjoyment. The combination made him all the more beastly. No matter what it took, she’d bring the bastard to his knees. He’d suffer for every moment she’d spent under this roof as Oakhurst’s plaything.

  “I went along with your scheme because I thought you could manage without getting hurt,” Robert said. “Now I’m feeling stupid about that.”

  “Don’t abandon me, Robert. I can’t do this without you.”

  He rose and walked to her. “Then tell me what’s upsetting you so badly.”

  She couldn’t, heaven help her. She could hardly admit it to herself. She couldn’t avoid it though. Deep down in a secret part of her, while the man had been kissing her, she’d enjoyed it.

  Chapter Four

  The latch to the outside door of Wortham’s sitting room clicked open. Obviously well oiled, the mechanism made little noise but the sound carried to where he sat, reading one of Oakhurst’s salacious books. He really ought to find some other way to pass the time, as voluptuous reading kept him in a semi-aroused state. Perhaps the countess had planned things that way.

  More important right now—the door had opened. She obviously meant for him to go exploring. For lack of anything better to do, he’d take her up on the offer. He set the book aside and rose to walk to the door.

  Not a sound came from the other side. Whoever had thrown the lock had crept away again. He turned the knob and looked outside to an empty corridor. A few feet away, Leda stared at him from the painting while the swan mounted her from the rear. What did Sans Regret and its mistress have in store for him this early evening?

  Out in the hallway the shadows were lengthening as night approached. Light shined up from the ground floor below. At the landing he looked down on the front entryway, which was lit by banks of candles. He took the opportunity to descend the stairs and try the front door. The massive wooden panels formed an arch, soaring nearly to the ceiling. The latches didn’t give. Locked and quite securely. He wasn’t meant to go outside.

  Sighing he turned and looked around. More candles burned in the dining room, so he went in that direction.

  The tapers lit a trail of sorts, across the length of the room to a small door on the far wall. The antique tapestry that had hung there before had been pushed to the side. More flickering light came from beyond the door. Once there he gazed through to a narrow stone staircase leading downward. Torches hung along the walls, lighting the worn steps. The whole thing seemed of another century—a medieval maze leading…where? Obviously he was meant to discover where. But if he crossed the threshold would the door slam closed behind him, making him a prisoner? Well hell, he already was a prisoner and his keeper didn’t seem intent on killing him or she would have done it already. She had something more subtle planned for him and he might as well go see what it was.

  He descended slowly, the only sound around him the hissing of whatever fat the torches burned. At the base of the steps sat another corridor, lined with wooden doors on both sides. One stood open and the flickering light of a fire shone from inside. He looked into that room and gasped.

  A naked woman stood in the center of the room, facing the hearth on the opposite wall. Arms and legs stretched out, she was tethered to some kind of rack. Firelight glinted off metal at her wrists high over her head and at her ankles. Crisscrossing scars marred the ivory skin of her back and thighs.

  “Good lord,” he said. “What bastard has done this to you?”

  She twisted to look over her shoulder at him. Lady Oakhurst, the mistress of the house, and she was smiling at him.

  “You took the devil’s own time to find me,” she said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have you out of here immediately.” He went to her and reached to the metal band holding her right wrist.

  She looked up into his face, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Don’t I tempt you this way, my lord?”

  “Tempt me? What an absurd question.” But she did tempt him. Even this distance from the hearth, she seemed to give off reflected heat. From just behind her, he could glance over her shoulder to see a sheen of sweat over firmly rounded breasts. With her stretched out, a man could explore every curve and crevice of her body to find the exact spots to bring her to full arousal.

  Damn but he’d been reading too many of those books. In no time at all his cock swelled in his pants to full length and hardness. He had to get out of here but no gentleman would leave a lady trussed up like this.

  Taking a deep breath, he forced himself away from the view of her naked flesh and knelt to work the cuff on her ankle. Even that part of her enticed a male response. Her bones were delicate, the ankle nicely turned. Down here he could detect the womanly perfume that escaped between her thighs. Soap and powder and a feminine musk. It dizzied him with memories of warm nights and warmer bodies.

  He focused his attention on the iron bond holding her foot. “It won’t move. It needs a key.”

  “I didn’t invite you here to free me,” she answered.

  He sat back on his heels. “What did you invite me here for?”

  She laughed, a low wicked sound. “You must have more imagination than that.”

  He looked up at her rump. More pale skin, also scarred. “I won’t beat you, if that’s what you want.’

  “This isn’t about what I want, is it?”

  “I’m your prisoner, madam, not the other way around.”

  “Wouldn’t you enjoy exercising some power over me for a change?”

  There were many things he’d enjoy about her and her body but none of them involved an exercise in raw power. Still if she relished the game, it might prove interesting. Someone had cut her deeply enough to leave scars though. She couldn’t have enjoyed that. He lifted a hand and traced one of the lines across her buttock and she quivered. Pleasure or pain? Pride or revulsion? She looked straight ahead, giving him no clue.

  He rose. “Someone cut you. Who?”

  Still she didn’t look down at him. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters.”

  “Flesh is flesh.”

  Another reply that wasn’t an answer. He rose and traced another scar—this one over her ribs—with his thumb. She tensed and flinched. Definitely not pleasure.

  “If you don’t enjoy this, why do it?” he asked.

  “You’re being tedious, my Lord Wortham.”

  “You find my concern tedious?”

  “I find it pointless.”

  He stroked another scar, this one down the center of her spine. Her whole body went rigid.

  “Gentleness scares you, doesn’t it?” he said.

  “Don’t be silly.”

  He leaned toward her, burying his nose in her hair. She’d perfumed that too. It smelled floral. A sigh escaped her so he continued, pressing a tiny kiss against her temple and then more behind her ear and down the length of her neck.

  “Cutting’s such a waste of lovely skin,” he said. “There are so many better things to do with it.”

  “And I imagine you know them all.”

  “I can always learn more.”

  She’d lured him in. He’d only meant to free her. Some sort of misplaced desire to act the knight in shining armor. This was her domain and if she’d wanted rescuing, she’d only have to order her staff to release her. She’d meant the whole exercise to seduce him and as he tasted the sweet expanse of her neck, he’d let her trap him. Such delicious surrender.

  No doubt she expected him to begin behaving like an animal. To give her breasts rough handling, spread her legs even farther. To ta
ke out his swollen member and plunge it up and into her. That was her game, not his. Tenderness could prove her undoing where crudeness would fail. So he continued his assault, caressing the crook of her neck and across her shoulder, his lips the only part of him touching her.

  “There’s a leather strap over there,” she said. “Wouldn’t you prefer using that?”

  “I rather like this,” he answered as he went back to her ear and took the lobe between his teeth.

  She stiffened again but a tiny moan escaped her too. She seemed torn between accepting pleasure and fearing it. Someone had damaged her. Most likely, that old scoundrel Oakhurst. He hadn’t been the sort to let another man ruin his property. The rumors had it that he had been the sort who’d enjoyed taking pleasure in perverted ways. What sort of sick bastard would treat his own wife that way?

  “Enough,” she said after a moment. “You’re not here to treat me like a child.”

  “I hope you don’t think I treat children this way,” he whispered into her ear.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t understand a thing about you.”

  “The rest of you can come in now,” she called loudly.

  Footsteps behind him caused him to turn. Two large men wearing masks and riding breeches and not much else entered. One led a naked redheaded woman tethered by a strap to a leather collar around her throat. Her keeper released the clasp to free her, while the other man closed the door. Both stood guard there, their arms crossed over muscular chests. They might have been eunuchs guarding the sultan’s harem except for noticeable erections straining against the tight fabric of their pants.

  The woman walked around to Lady Oakhurst’s front and curtsied. Such a strange sight—one naked woman bending her knee to another one, and a bound one at that. Fascinated, he took a position to better see what they’d do next.

  The redhead rose, placed her palms on either side of Lady Oakhurst’s face and brought their mouths together for a kiss. Both women closed their eyes while their lips moved in an erotic dance. He’d never watched two women engage in sex play before. He knew men who had. They’d either spied on female relatives with “companions” or sometimes paid two women to perform for them. To a man, they’d sworn the scene excited them. He’d always assumed that watching two other people, no matter the sex, would simply feel like intruding. He’d been wrong. He couldn’t have looked away if his life depended on it.

  The redhead sighed and parted her lips, inviting Lady Oakhurst to do the same. Her breathing grew ragged as the tip of the countess’s tongue emerged and played over her lover’s lips. Two pairs of breasts rubbed together, the nipples hardening. His cock throbbed in his pants, eager for freedom to join them—first satisfying one and then the other. Neither seemed to notice his presence or the presence of the men by the doorway. They might have been alone in their own world of lust while the redhead palmed the lady’s breasts and then moved her hands lower over ribs and belly toward the countess’s cunt.

  He imagined her touch on his own body. So vividly he could feel the tips of her fingers probing between his own legs to cup his sac and then grasping his shaft. Now excited almost to the breaking point, he could only hope to escape to give himself relief or he’d come in front of the others. But two burly men guarded the door and besides, he couldn’t leave before watching what the two women would do next.

  Slowly the redhead lowered herself, running her tongue along the cleft between Lady Oakhurst’s breasts, down the center of her torso, and dipping into her navel. Finally she knelt and placed her mouth over Lady Oakhurst’s sex, probing with her tongue.

  A loud whap sounded in the room. Wortham started, his head snapping up to find that one of the guards had walked up behind Lady Oakhurst. In his hand he held a leather strap. As Wortham watched, the man raised it and brought it down on the countess’s back with another sharp noise of leather meeting flesh. She didn’t flinch. Neither did she show any outward sign of pleasure at the other woman’s caress. She hung, suspended from the rack, a detached faraway look in her eyes.

  He felt every blow though, every flick of the redhead’s tongue as if they were inflicted on his own body. His back burned, tingling in a pleasant way. Odd that. The effect on his cock was more logical. It readied itself to climax, as though the woman’s mouth sucked on the head. He ought to at least try to leave but the scene held him—the man lashing at Lady Oakhurst’s back, the woman teasing her cunt. The fellow by the door still had a huge erection straining at the front of his breeches. No one could imagine a more depraved scene, nor one as compelling. No wonder libertines had found their way to Oakhurst’s door.

  Lady Oakhurst finally closed her eyes and her face contorted in what looked like orgasm. Not entirely convincing though. She followed that with a sharp intake of breath and then a lusty cry. Enough women had made that sound in his bed to know that each had her own distinctive song. This one didn’t quite ring true but after a moment, she opened her eyes again and smiled.

  “Well done,” she said to the redhead. “Now see to Lord Wortham.”

  “Now see here…” he said.

  “Oh come now. You’ll climax in your pants any moment now. Let Abby finish you. She’s very good.”

  The redhead, Abby, rose and walked to him. Not even bothering with a kiss, she placed her palm against his rod and massaged it with strong fingers. He sucked in a breath and did his best to keep from trembling.

  “Such a fine big cock,” she said. “I’d be honored.”

  “I could give you my place on the rack,” the countess said. “That way you could claim you were powerless to resist.”

  “No thank you. I don’t relish being beaten.”

  She tsked a few times. “A voluptuary like you? Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  The man behind her smiled at him, all the while tapping the leather against his palm.

  “You overestimate me, madam,” Wortham said.

  “I don’t think so.” She looked very pointedly at the dimensions of his cockstand, outlined by the other woman’s fingers. “Why not show us?”

  Before he could object, Abby knelt before him and unbuttoned his pants. Her fingers found the aching flesh of his cock and any hope of resistance vanished. He’d grown too aroused to fight her. He would climax now, one way or another. Oh hell. The others were hardly innocent observers. Let them watch.

  Moving slowly with agonizing deliberateness, she teased the tip of his sex with her tongue, flicking at the single glistening droplet there. Unsteady, he put a hand on her head for balance and let her have her way with him. While her fingers stroked the length of his shaft, she closed her mouth around the head and sucked. She was indeed, good at this. Very, very good.

  The suction, the gentle rasping of her teeth sent him right to the edge. Just feet away, the man resumed flogging Lady Oakhurst’s back until she moaned and writhed. He pictured himself standing behind her but not with a leather strap in his hand. Instead he’d reach around to part her nether lips and tease the sensitive spot there while he drove his aching cock deep inside her. She’d writhe all right, but not from pain. He’d give her an orgasm and she wouldn’t feign it this time. Her sweet pussy would grip his rod as it convulsed with the ultimate pleasure. Finally having satisfied her, he’d allow his own beast loose and join her.

  Damn. His whole body tensed as his climax built. Unable to stifle a moan he pumped his hips. The woman stopped sucking then and stroked him with her hand.

  His cock jerked upward, spraying semen onto her and the floor below. It went on and on, building, as a roar erupted from him, filling the room.

  It ended finally. He managed to remain standing while strength returned to his limbs. He’d seldom climaxed like that and never with others watching. If this was depravity, it held a power he’d never suspected. Did that make him sick or merely human?

  “Thank you all,” Lady Oakhurst said, clearly dismissing the others.

  One guard opened the door and left fol
lowed by the redhead. The other guard only stayed long enough to use a key at his belt to release the countess from her restraints. Then he exited, leaving the two of them alone.

  She rubbed one shoulder and rotated her head as if working kinks from her neck. “It’s been a while since I used the rack.”

  “Why?”

  Her brow furrowed as if she hadn’t understood the question.

  “Why did you use it now?” he asked.

  She smiled. An expression of triumph rather than happiness. “You’ll need to clean up before dinner.”

  With that she turned and left the room. He looked around at the stone walls, the fire in the grate, the rack. What in hell had just happened here?

  * * * * *

  Caroline looked down the length of Oakhurst’s huge dining table at a man who was clearly unsettled. Wortham sat with his brandy, smoking a cigar, and avoided looking her in the eye. Perhaps their earlier session had been his first taste of depravity. Good. He’d obviously enjoyed it. She’d plan more and more of it until he’d fallen completely under her thrall. Then she’d cast him adrift. Things would work out exactly as she’d hoped.

  She took a taste of her own brandy and did her best not to smile at his discomfort.

  “In polite society, the ladies would have withdrawn by now,” he said.

  “This isn’t polite society. We established that earlier this evening.”

  He fidgeted at the reminder and took a deep puff of his cigar. Maybe he thought she’d find it distasteful. Cigar smoke was nothing compared to some of the things she’d had to endure in this house.

  “I don’t understand you,” he said. “You drugged me and brought me here so that a strange woman could fellate me while I watched you being lashed?”

  “I’d keep my voice down if I were you. Servants hear all kinds of things.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  She couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Servants had heard and seen much worse than that while Oakhurst had ruled over Sans Regret. Wortham would most likely have participated in some of them if he’d gotten himself onto the invitation list. That wouldn’t make him feel any better right now.