Captive Fox
Chapter 8
Disclaimer: Yeah right, like I could create characters like
these?
Rating: NC-17, baby!
Keywords: Sex and discipline--need I say more?
Summary: In a world where women rule and men are chattel,
Fox Mulder Scully is his wife's most prized possession...
Notes: Most awesome thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Carolyn,
who asks the hard questions, catches the little discrepancies,
and makes me be better than I am.
Fox lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the
tightness in his gut. He was torn between wanting to tell
Dana everything, and the fear that, if his actions were
revealed, even to her, he would end up in the hands of Lady
Fowley. Fox knew very little about the law, but he did know
that in this case, Lady Fowley would have a valid claim on
him to replace the four years and six months of Isaac's
contract that he had, essentially, stolen from her by
freeing the poor man. The one thing he did not know was
whether Dana, with her power and influence in the village,
could get him out of the trap in which he now found himself.
Also, if Dana knew about the situation, not only would she
in all likelihood lose any affection she had for him, she
might also decide to murder Alex in order to protect her
family's good name. Then, assuming Alex was telling the
truth about his friend who had a copy of the letter, Fox
would still be found out. She might even go so far as to
challenge Lady Diana to a duel, and Fox shuddered at the
implications of that. He wouldn't want to live if he were
the cause of her injury or death. And should Dana lose, not
only would Fox belong to Diana for the rest of Isaac's
contract length, but there was little chance that Diana
would let him go at the end of it. She would probably
convince the Queen to let her keep Fox, or even marry him,
and he would be in her clutches forever. Besides, after
years in Lady Fowley's clutches, he would be disgraced,
ruined in decent society. Dana would never take back a
soiled man as her husband, or even as a lover.
He tossed and turned for hours, until at last the chamber
door opened and he saw Dana's small form enter the room. She
tried to creep quietly inside so as not to wake him, and Fox
closed his eyes, pretending to sleep, but she was able to
tell by the rhythm of his breathing that he was awake.
"Fox, are you not resting?" she asked quietly, setting the
candle holder on a table and snuffing the light.
"I--I was, my lady," he said apologetically. "A--a dream
woke me."
She took his chin and studied his face in the moonlight.
"You are lying, sweeting," she stated calmly, and slipped
out of her clothes, dropping them carelessly to the floor.
Sliding into the bed beside him, she pulled him close, and
Fox gasped when he realized she was completely naked.
Her hands wandered down to cup his manhood, and he squirmed,
feeling himself growing hard against her fingers. Slowly,
Dana traced one fingernail gently up and down his shaft
until he moaned with need.
"Do not worry," she yawned. "I am far too tired to take
advantage of you tonight, my dear."
He'd been certain she intended to make love to him, and
turned to face her, astonished.
"But I dislike being lied to, Fox," she said silkily, in
answer to his questioning look. "You are fortunate I am too
weary to take my hand to your backside. Now, sleep. You
need to get your rest as well, for we must greet our guests
soon after we break our fast."
"Yes, my lady," he mumbled, burying his face in her shoulder
as she put her arms around him.
"Fox," she asked, drawing back when she felt the wetness of
his tears on her skin. "What is wrong, sweeting?"
"Nothing, Dana," he told her peevishly, swiping angrily at
the wetness of his eyes. "I'm just tired."
She ignored his tone, settling his head back to her shoulder
and stroking her fingers through his hair. Poor dear, she
thought, he was exhausted.
"I feel I must owe you an apology," she said hesitantly.
Fox raised his head and stared at her for a minute, utter
surprise on his face.
"Well don't appear so taken aback!" she laughed softly,
pulling his head down once again. "I am able to apologize,
on those rare occasions when I am in the wrong."
"What is my lady apologizing for?" he queried curiously.
She gave a small sigh, putting aside her teasing for the
moment. "I truly did not intend you would work so hard to
prepare for Suzanne's visit," she said, her voice almost
contrite. "I am not learned in the ways of a man's work,
and I am sorry for leaving you so little time."
He said nothing, merely relishing the feel of her fingers in
his hair.
"You are still angry with me."
"No, my lady, not angry," he corrected quickly. "Although I
did feel as if you believed my work to be unimportant, or so
easy that I must search for ways to occupy my time."
"Well, as I said, I was wrong," she answered grumpily,
giving a little swat to his bottom, and he yelped,
unprepared. "Let us not dwell upon the past. You shall be
much busier when our children arrive."
"Children?"
His astonished look made her laugh again. "Yes, Fox,
children. Did you think we would never have children?"
"I--hadn't given it any thought at all, my lady. When shall
we have them?"
She laughed once more, and he gave her a look of
consternation. How he hated being found so amusing!
"Do not fret, sweeting," she said, dropping a kiss atop his
head. "I find you refreshingly unspoiled, and totally
delightful. As to the children," she continued slyly, "I
suspect you shall know that before I."
"But *how* will I know?" he persisted.
"You will know, Fox, when the time arrives. Now, hush your
chatter and go to sleep. When you are unable to awaken in
the morning, I shall punish you severely for your
slothfulness," she teased.
Fox quieted immediately, listening as her breathing slowed
and settled into its nighttime rhythm, but he knew he would
have no trouble waking in the morning. In truth, he did not
sleep a wink that night, for as soon as he was left alone
with his thoughts, he began to toss and turn and fret once
more.
His mind played out every possible scenario to its logical
end, and with a growing sense of terror, Fox realized how
well and truly trapped he was. The one thing he knew for
certain was that he wanted to see the letter Alex claimed to
carry. If the servant could produce no such letter, Fox had
made up his mind to tell the entire story to Dana
immediately. Surely she would have a solution.
By the time dawn arrived, Fox was tense and irritable, his
head aching and his entire body sore from lying abed for
hours without really resting. As soon as Dana began to
stir, he crawled out of bed and rang for their bathwater.
"I want to see that letter!" Fox hissed at Alex as the
servant poured steaming water into the tub.
Alex just smiled and gave a slight nod. He'd expected Lord
Scully to demand to see proof of his claims, in fact, he'd
been surprised when the request wasn't made the night
before, but he supposed Fox had been too stunned to think of
it.
By the time she was awakened enough to be aware, Fox was
already dressed. He'd hesitated momentarily--would a
perfect husband bathe before his wife?--and then decided he
did not care. He was tired of being the perfect husband
anyway, and it seemed she would never be more than "fond" of
him. He felt dirty after his conversations with Alex last
night and this morning, and longed to wash the smell of fear
and sweat from his body. Besides, he reminded himself as he
quickly bathed, she would not be happy with him if he kept
her waiting, and there was much to do this morning.
"I take back what I said about your probable difficulty
arising," she said dryly, watching as he prowled the room
restlessly, picking up items and putting them back down,
tidying areas that were already perfectly neat, the muscles
in his back so tense she could make out the knots beneath
his clothing.
"I had no trouble," he said shortly. "However, if my lady
does not pull herself from the bed soon, she will be
greeting our guests in a shocking state."
Dana regarded him coolly, taking note of his blush at her
scrutiny, before sliding deliberately from beneath the
coverlet and strolling, still naked, to the tub.
"This water is cold," she informed him brusquely. "Have
more brought."
"If my lady had only--" he began, but bit back his retort.
"If I had what?"
"Nothing, Dana," he murmured, tugging on the bell rope.
He blocked the door when Alex arrived, so as to prevent the
maid seeing his wife without her clothing, and gave the
order for additional bath water. Why, he wondered
irritably, did Dana insist upon parading around in such a
casual state of undress?
As soon as the door was safely shut, he approached her with
her midnight blue robe.
"Perhaps my lady would like to--"
"My lady would not," she interrupted curtly. "This is my
house, and my chamber, Fox. I shall do as I like, and you
will accustom yourself to that fact."
"But, Dana, Alex..." he pleaded desperately.
"Alex will see what he cannot have, and his envy of you will
only grow," she retorted, never suspecting how her words
would increase his fear. "He is a servant, Fox, a mere
maid. You are Lord Scully. You must drop this wretched
rivalry with him."
"It isn't a rivalry, my lady," he answered sullenly, again
holding out her robe. "I only wish you to get dressed."
He realized he had overstepped his bounds when she glared at
him, but before she could take action, the servants bearing
water rapped at the door.
Fox opened the door a crack and ordered them to leave the
buckets there. He dismissed them sharply, and turned back
to see an amused smile on his wife's face. He waited until
the servants had departed, then struggled with the buckets,
dumping each of them into the tub while she watched
silently.
When she stepped into the tub, he took the empty buckets and
set them outside the door again, closing it carefully in
order to avoid giving in to the urge to slam it so hard as
to make the rafters shake. She watched him, and when he
turned, she was actually laughing at him. Laughing!
"That display of jealousy was touching, but hardly
necessary, my sweet," she said, a tinge of sarcasm coloring
her words, and Fox finally felt his temper snap.
"Is it your intention to humiliate me at every turn?" he
demanded angrily. "Must I endure the gossip of the
servants, as well as their groping hands, when they say that
you are taking your pleasures with those other than your
husband? Must you shame me--"
"Silence!" roared Dana, and Fox stepped back, as if moved by
the very force of her anger. "I have told you before, Fox
Scully, and I will only say it once more--I will not have my
behavior dictated to me by any man, certainly not my
husband! You have proven to be headstrong, thoughtless of
your own safety, and largely lacking in self-control. Your
behavior has warranted severe punishment on more than one
occasion. Do not force me to discipline you before
breakfast."
She stood up in the tub, reaching for the drying cloth, and
ignoring his fury, said, "Wear the black shirt I bought for
you last week. I like the way it displays your chest and
belly. I wish to be the envy of my friends, when they see
you."
Her arrogant words, the casualness of her tone, and the lack
of concern for his feelings, all combined to cause him to
suddenly lose control, in a way he never had even dreamed of
before in his life. Completely out of his mind, uncaring of
the consequences, indeed, not even considering that there
would *be* consequences, he raced toward her with a roar of
rage.
"I am not a whore!" he yelled, grabbing her around the waist
with one strong arm and throwing her to the bed. She landed
on her back, bouncing a time or two, and was so stunned by
his action that she didn't even try to defend herself. Fox
threw open the drawer of the dressing table where she kept
her scarves and, working quickly, flipped her onto her
stomach, tying her wrists to the bedposts as she had so
often done with him.
"Fox, are you bewitched? Release me at once!" she demanded,
but he ignored her.
"You treat me like a common man from the streets of London,"
he panted, yanking her ankles apart and fastening them to
the bed posts. "You never give a care to how I am feeling,
you always simply force your will upon me. How does it
feel, Dana? How does it feel to be used as nothing more
than an object for pleasure?"
"Fox, I have *never*--" Her protest was cut off in mid
sentence when he jammed another of the scarves in her mouth,
tying it tightly behind her head.
She twisted her head around and glared up at him with all
the fury she could muster, jerking at the scarves that held
her captive, but he was not deterred.
"Let's see how you like a little punishment, Lady Dana
Scully," he gloated, climbing onto his knees beside her and
raising his hand above his head.
"One. For treating me like a common whore!" he said firmly,
bringing his hand down upon her white buttocks, and she
flinched. He stared at the red handprint her skin and
smiled a smile of pure delight.
"Two. For allowing the servants to touch me as they would
any cheap trollop!" Another mark joined the first, and he
rubbed his hands over them, feeling the heat emanating from
her bottom.
"Three, for consigning me to that vile dungeon!" The third
stroke was harder than the previous two, and Dana screamed
behind her gag.
"Mphh uhkn bssstd!" she yelled, and he laughed.
"What's that you say, my dear?" he asked saucily, pretending
to listen. "You want me to take you until you beg for
mercy? Why yes, Dana, I believe I can accommodate you."
Rising, he quickly stripped off his clothes, then climbed
onto the bed behind her. He reached beneath her hips and
lifted them roughly, bringing her ass up to his face,
kissing the red marks while his fingers probed her womanly
flesh. He grinned even wider when he felt the moisture
there.
"I think my lady enjoys this," he gloated, rubbing her
sensitive nub while she ground herself against his hand. "I
think my lady enjoys this very much!" He continued stroking
her, watching as her movements against him grew more and
more frantic, and just as it seemed she was about to reach
her release, he pulled away. She screamed in frustration.
"Punishment by pleasure, isn't that what you called it?" he
asked, sliding his hands under her twisting form to cup her
breasts. He pinched and tweaked at them until her nipples
were rigid and her head turned frantically from side to
side. A steady stream of unintelligible words came from
behind the gag, but he ignored them all.
"I'm going to take you now, Dana," he whispered into her
ear, biting the lobe of it sharply, and she gasped as he
pulled her bottom up and slid swiftly into her, impaling her
upon his rod until she could feel his sacs pressing against
her woman's parts.
She moaned, pushing against him again, and he laughed. "Is
this what you want?" he taunted, moving his hips back and
forth a couple of times, teasing her. When he stilled, she
bucked beneath him in an attempt to make him move.
"You like it fast, don't you, sweeting?" he asked,
deliberately using the pet name she had given him. "Fast
and hard?"
She nodded, moaning again, her eyes closed in anticipation
of promised ecstasy.
"Well, not today," he told her, beginning to slide back and
forth in maddeningly slow, maddeningly deep strokes. She
groaned and he slowed even more, squeezing her breasts while
she ground her hips against him.
"No," he said firmly, releasing her breasts and swatting her
bottom again. Then he took a firm grasp on her hips,
holding her in place. "Not this time. This time *I'm*
making the rules."
She twisted her hands in a futile attempt to free them,
begging incoherently behind the gag while he proceeded to
take her ever-so-slowly, building her so deliberately to a
release that she thought she would die. At last, when she
thought it would never end, that she would never find that
sweet completion she so desperately sought, she felt his
hands slide around to brush lightly across her womanhood.
His touch sent her screaming in paroxysms of pleasure, and
as her inner muscles gripped his manhood, he pressed fully
into her, crying out his own release.
When his seed was spent, he collapsed gently across her
back, mindful of his greater weight, then rolled to one side
so she could breathe. A silly smile still adorning his
lips, he turned his head, looked into her eyes and froze. It
was only then that he truly realized the magnitude of what
he had done.
"Dear sweet Goddess!" he breathed, his face turning pasty
white as he stared at his wife, trussed up and gagged, his
seed spilling from her, the red marks of his hand still
plainly visible on her buttocks. "Oh my lady..." It was
more a moan of distress than any coherent sentence that
emerged from his mouth as he quickly released her, gently
untangling the scarf from her hair and pulling it from her
mouth.
Fox watched as his mistress sat on the edge of the bed,
rubbing at her wrists, and winced when he saw the angry red
marks caused by her struggle. She stared at him wordlessly,
and he dropped to his knees, his eyes fixed firmly on the
floor. He had never lost control of himself in this manner
before in his entire life, and Fox couldn't even imagine
what the punishment would be. If she sent him to the
dungeon for one night simply for attacking a servant, what
would she do to him for assaulting her? For daring to tie
her to the bed, and *spank* her as if she were a disobedient
child--and then to tease and torment her, taking his
pleasure from her roughly, ignoring her protests--
He closed his eyes in agony. He would be in that dungeon
for the rest of his life, if she even allowed him to live.
She might take her sword and run him through, but no, he
decided on the heels of that thought, Dana would not kill
him so quickly. No, she would want him to suffer, in order
to pay for the way he had dared treat her.
"Fox," she said, and her voice sounded odd. He thought it
must be the blood rushing to his brain, the pounding in his
ears that made it seem so. "Bend over the bed in your usual
position."
Scrambling up on shaky legs, he obeyed quickly, wondering
how severely she would whip him before sending him below. He
bit back a sob--things had been going so well until the day
before, until Alex and his threats. Up until then, Fox had
truly believed he had a chance at a happy life, but now, it
was clear that his only possible future was one of misery.
She slowly pulled open a drawer of her dressing table and
withdrew a vicious looking cane, cut to the length of his
forearm. Fox paled when he saw the instrument--his mother
had owned one similar.
He opened his mouth to beg for mercy, and found that his
voice refused to function. Wetting his lips, swallowing
hard, he managed, "My lady, please forgive me--"
Her face bland, without expression, she approached him
slowly.
"Dana, please, I did not sleep well, I am not myself," he
continued to babble, but she ignored him.
"One, for daring to use your strength so unwisely," she
said, and the cane landed across his buttocks sharply.
"AHH!" he cried, squirming as if to escape, but she placed
her hand firmly on the small of his back and held him in
place.
"Two, for your appalling language." The second stroke
landed just below the first, and he screamed as it burned a
line of fire across his skin. The pain was more intense
than anything he'd felt at her hand before, and he was
certain flesh must have been ripped away.
To his surprise, she tossed the cane to the bed, tugging him
up until he was standing before her, tears wetting his face,
his eyes still full of terror.
"Three," she announced gently, "for pleasuring me in such a
way as I have never known before. You have truly surprised
me, my dear, and a little astonishment in a marriage is
sometimes a good thing."
Then, to his utter amazement, she pulled his head down and
bestowed a passionate kiss upon his lips. He moaned again,
this time not in pain or fear, and she pulled away to look
at him. He felt intense and utter relief to see her teasing
expression.
"You will tell me where you came upon such an idea," she
commanded, and he blushed.
"I--was not myself--" he stammered, but she shook her head.
"I know why you lost control of yourself," she cut in, "but
I want to know where you learned of such a...technique."
He flushed even redder, and stared at the floor, while she
waited patiently for his answer.
"My lady has a well-stocked library," he offered at last,
grinding one toe into the rug, and she broke out in peals of
laughter.
"I can see that I shall have to inventory the books there,"
she gasped through her mirth. "Perhaps I shall give you
some specific volumes to read."
He said nothing, confused at her reaction--shouldn't she be
ordering the servants to chain him downstairs at this very
moment?
Dana returned the cane to its place, then calmly lowered
herself into the now cooled tub and quickly bathed again.
She beckoned him over and used the washing cloth to clean
the evidence of their passion from his body. He closed his
eyes and gripped the side of the tub while she attended to
his still-sensitive manhood, wishing she would decide to
skip breakfast altogether and take him back to her bed.
"Wash your face, Fox," she told him gently, rising from the
tub yet again, "and let us go down to breakfast. I expect
you to sit on your chair and eat a good meal. If you do
not, I shall warm your bottom again."
"Yes, my lady," he said quickly, hurrying to do her bidding
and then dress himself. Somehow, he thought, she seemed to
have forgotten that he had overpowered her, tied her up and
taken her without her permission. He sent up a quick prayer
that she would not soon remember, and followed her from the
room
Lord Walter was been brushing Maggie's hair when the
piercing shriek had echoed through the mansion, and they
exchanged a knowing look in the dressing table mirror.
"Young Fox is quite headstrong," Maggie remarked, taking up
a comb and handing it to Walter to arrange in her hair.
"Dana must punish him frequently."
"He will adjust, my lady, as did I," Walter answered calmly,
fastening his wife's hair up into the style she preferred of
a morning. "He is very young."
She smiled, her one dimple showing. He found it wildly
attractive, and fought back an urge to kiss it, thinking as
he restrained himself that Maggie did not care for forward
men any more than did her youngest daughter.
"Were you ever that young, Walter?" she asked, donning a
bracelet and matching earrings. She had seen his desire in
his eyes, and wished briefly that he would be more
spontaneous, but she supposed, with an inward sigh, that
Lady Sharon had eliminated any urges he might have had in
that direction. Lady Sharon had been exceedingly proper and
old-fashioned.
"Oh yes, my lady, indeed," he replied, standing back to
admire her. "Lady Sharon punished me quite often when we
were first married. It was perhaps a year before I learned
to do as she expected."
'Blast her soul for breaking him while she was about it,
too!' Maggie thought with a tinge of anger.
"Was she a difficult taskmistress?" she inquired, waiting
for him to fall into place behind her.
"I wouldn't say she was that, my lady," he answered
honestly. "She was simply rather...unyielding at times.
Quite unexpected was her behavior. I remember once..."
He shook his head, as if to rid himself of the memory. The
expression on his face indicated it had not been
particularly pleasant.
"Yes?" Maggie prompted with a smile.
"I am afraid I forget the story, my lady. Tell me, when do
we expect Lady Modeski to arrive?"
"You fool me not, husband," Maggie remarked, smiling into
his soft brown eyes as she gently patted his cheek. "I will
hear this story of yours, perhaps in our chamber this
evening, where I may persuade you properly if need be. Lady
Modeski arrives before noon."
Walter nodded obediently, and stifled a sigh as she made her
way downstairs ahead of him. He wished he could take back
his words, but now that Maggie knew there was a story to be
heard, she would be relentless until her desire to know was
satisfied.
"But I am grateful you do not share Lady Sharon's fondness
for gambling," he murmured as they entered the dining room,
and she shot him a look that said he would be telling her
everything, and very soon.
Soon after they seated themselves, Dana and Fox appeared,
and Walter gazed sympathetically at the young man as he slid
carefully into his chair. His head was bowed and his face
flushed, a sure indication that he had been chastised
severely by his lady only recently. Dana, on the other
hand, looked fresh and remarkably happy.
"You are looking well, daughter," Maggie observed. "And
Fox, you appear quite lovely as well. I do believe black is
your color."
He glanced swiftly down at the black shirt and breeches that
Dana had told him to wear, flushing at the compliment.
"Thank you, my lady," he said softly, casting a sidelong
look at his wife.
"Fox does not care for black, he says it makes him look as
if he is to attend a funeral, but I believe it is his best
color," Dana said with a wink at the man beside her, who
blushed even more deeply.
"Good morning," Melissa sang happily, entering the room
last.
A chorus of greetings rose from the table as Melissa
approached, and when she reached her chair, she stopped,
staring at Fox as if enthralled.
"Sister?" asked Dana a bit testily, waiting for Melissa to
take her seat.
"I am sorry," Melissa smiled, seating herself quickly. "I
was so taken aback by this ravishing creature before me that
I completely forgot where I was."
This level of praise was simply too much for Fox, who didn't
see why women complimented him anyway. He knew that he was
passably pretty, but certainly no more so than any other
man, and far from the "ravishing" his sister-in-law had
described him as. Besides, he could tell that her praise of
him made Dana angry.
"Please," he murmured quietly to his wife, "may I excuse
myself?"
"No, Fox," she answered gently, nodding toward his
still-full plate. "Eat your breakfast."
He held back a sigh and nodded obediently, giving Melissa a
quick smile of thanks for her kind words. The sooner he
finished his meal, the sooner he could leave this
uncomfortable situation. He ate as much as he was able, and
when he sent an imploring look Dana's way, she glanced at
his plate again, looked into his beautiful eyes, and gave
him a nod of dismissal. He hadn't eaten everything, but she
recognized that he had had a difficult morning--poor Fox,
she thought, taking another bite of ham, he had expected the
worst kind of punishment after what he had done. It
wouldn't do to let him take advantage of her in that way too
often, but she was pleased to see him showing a little more
spontaneity. She wondered exactly which book he had found
which had given him such ideas.
"My ladies, Walter, please excuse me," Fox said, rising
gratefully. "I must attend to some last minute details
before our guests arrive." Fox hastily made his exit,
breathing deeply as he exited the dining room. He didn't
know why Melissa insisted upon saying such things to him--he
suspected it was simply to tease her younger sister, but he
hated being a pawn in their rivalry, no matter how
good-natured the intent.
Maggie and Walter excused themselves a few moments later,
and Dana and Melissa were left alone at the breakfast table.
Dana signaled for more tea to be poured into her cup, then
sipped at the hot liquid carefully. Melissa drank her own,
studying her sister over the rim of her cup. Dana was
irritated with her, she could tell, and Melissa experienced
a spark of regret at her earlier words.
"Sister, I would apologize to you," she said softly.
Dana's eyes flew to Melissa's face. "Apologize?" she asked
gruffly. "Why?"
"Your husband is a beautiful man, indeed, one of the most
beautiful I have ever seen, and I enjoy showering him with
compliments, but I assure you, Dana, I do not look upon him
with lust. I would not attempt to take him from you, even
if his heart was not firmly in your hands."
Dana said nothing, and Melissa could see the suspicion still
shadowing her eyes.
"Come, Dana, let us be friends as we used to be," Melissa
offered, holding out her hand with a smile. "I promise not
to praise your beautiful Fox again if it makes you
uncomfortable. You know I always did enjoy teasing you both
as children."
"You did indeed," Dana agreed, slowly taking the hand that
was offered. "And I fear the Scully temper is greater in
myself than in you. My apologies as well, Missy. I have
not been a very good hostess during your visit here."
Melissa's smile deepened when her sister used the
affectionate name from their childhood. "You have not
called me that in years," she said in a voice slightly
choked.
Dana, fearing her sister was about to give in to a wave of
useless emotion, briskly shoved back her chair and stood.
"I shall find you a man as attractive as Fox," she announced
with an impish grin. "Then you will find your head turned
in other directions than his."
Melissa laughed aloud at her plan. "Your scheme is
admirable, but as for finding a man as beautiful as Fox..."
she lifted her cup in toast to her sister. "I wish you
luck."
Dana squeezed her hand again and left the room, and Melissa
stared after her thoughtfully. She had appeared to be at
least partially serious, and Melissa wondered if Fox had
managed to make his way more deeply into her sister's heart
than Dana was able to acknowledge. She also wondered if she
would have prospective husbands paraded before her at an
alarming rate now. Dana rarely failed at something to which
she put her mind.
Fox roamed the lower floors, making certain that all was in
readiness. He entered a small parlor where the family often
took tea and frowned. Dust was accumulated on the
furniture, and books lay in disarray on one of the small
tables. He had ordered Alex to clean this very room only
yesterday. Obviously the maid had felt his orders not worth
following. Moving decisively to the bell cord, he gave it
an angry tug. A houseboy quickly appeared.
"Yes, my lord?" the young lad asked, eyes downcast timidly.
Fox studied him carefully. He was young, perhaps fourteen
but small for his age, with golden hair and delicate
features. He was quite lovely, and Fox was suddenly
grateful that Dana required lifetime contracts from her
servants. If this child chanced to find himself employed by
some of the less honorable women, he would end up being
nothing more than a toy to warm their beds, Fox was certain.
Even on this estate, the women were especially lusty,
although they did not appear to interest themselves in
children.
He wondered if the boy was a virgin, and if so, how he could
possibly protect the child from being ravished by the female
servants. He resolved to look into the matter further when
he had more time--right now he must see to the arrival of
Dana's guests.
"Your name--it is Aja, is it not?" he asked the boy kindly.
"Yes, my lord."
"Aja, you may look at me when I speak to you."
Aja raised clear, piercing blue eyes to stare up at him.
"I would that you summon Alex, the maid, to this room
immediately," Fox told him. "Then you may go into the
kitchen and tell Natalie that I ordered you to eat at least
three of the pastries she baked this morning."
Aja's face lit up in a happy smile, and almost before his
enthusiastic, "Yes, my lord!" was out of his mouth, he was
gone.
Fox smiled at the boy's hasty departure, then continued to
pace as he waited for Alex to appear. He wanted to
castigate the maid severely for his lax attention to his
duties, but did not dare. However, a maid who simply didn't
work was not to be endured. Surely, even Alex could
understand that.
"Yes?" Alex asked insolently from the doorway, his approach
so silent Fox did not hear his footsteps.
"I told you to clean this room yesterday," Fox replied,
hiding his surprise at the sudden appearance. "It has not
been straightened, nor dusted. See to it now."
"Certainly." Alex crossed to a small knick-knack shelf and
picked up a green painted pottery elephant, examining it
closely before lifting it high above his head.
Fox gasped when he realized the servant's intent, but before
he could utter a word, the elephant lay shattered upon the
floor.
"You--" Fox began, but Alex held out a hand and made a
shushing motion.
"Remember our agreement," he smirked as footsteps
approached.
The entire family, who had been gathered in the main salon,
had heard the noise and come to investigate its cause. When
Dana saw the shattered elephant, she gave a miserable sigh.
"It is the elephant you brought me from Africa," she said
sadly to her sister. "I adored it."
Fox felt his heart sink at her words. It couldn't be some
useless piece of bric-a-brac, oh no, it had to be a
cherished item, one that was, in all likelihood,
irreplaceable.
"What happened?" she demanded, looking up at the two men,
one face guilty, the other smug.
Alex glanced expectantly at Fox, and Fox swallowed hard.
"It--it was my fault, my lady," he offered at last. "Alex
was cleaning--" At the servant's glare, he changed his
sentence. "Alex was doing a bit of last minute dusting and
I'm afraid I clumsily bumped into him. I made him drop the
elephant. I am sorry." He stared at his hands, waiting for
her to spill her wrath upon him, but instead, she merely
shook her head sadly.
"Tis no matter," she told her husband with a small smile. "I
enjoyed it for a time, but it was merely a piece of pottery.
There are other possessions which I hold in far greater
value."
Dana did not see Alex's eyes narrow quickly in anger, but
Fox did.
"But my lady, it was my own stupidity that broke your
treasure," he insisted with an uneasy glance at the servant.
"Surely some punishment is in order?"
She stared up at Fox, puzzled. "Am I to understand that you
are asking me to punish you, Fox?" she asked, her voice
colored with disbelief.
Fox felt trapped. Surely there was only one answer the
perfect husband could give, and yet it would not satisfy
Alex. Perhaps the next "accident" Alex caused would not be
so minor as this one. With an inward sigh, Fox answered at
last.
"It should be as you wish it, my lady."
"Exactly, my husband," she agreed. "And what I wish is for
Alex to clean up this mess, then attend to his duties
upstairs. Fox, our guests will be here any minute. We must
prepare to greet them."
She turned and left the room, followed by Walter and Maggie,
who had silently observed the entire scene. Fox followed,
still uncertain, but Melissa crossed her arms and leaned
casually against the wall. After a few second's hesitation,
Alex shrugged his shoulders and knelt to scoop up the pieces
of the broken elephant.
"You seem upset, Alex," she observed as he scraped the
pieces angrily into one hand. "Are you concerned that your
job is in jeopardy because of an accident?"
"No, my lady," he answered dutifully. "I am sorrowful that
Lord Fox has caused Lady Dana to lose a treasured
possession."
"Indeed." She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "I
trust that, now you realize what a clumsy oaf Lord Fox is,
you will be all the more careful that accidents do not
happen in his presence. Fox has a tendency to accept blame
for things of which he bears no guilt."
Alex's head jerked up in surprise, and he saw the knowing
look in her eyes. He paused as he licked his suddenly dry
lips. "I should not like to have my lord bear the blame for
my mistakes," he told her, an expression of careful honesty
on his beautiful face.
Melissa smiled coldly. "I shall remember that. I would
that you remember it as well." With that, she turned on her
heel and left the room, leaving a shaken but still fuming
Alex to finish cleaning up the results of his efforts.
"They have arrived!" Dana cried excitedly, as soon as the
sound of carriage wheels coming up the drive could be heard.
She took Fox by the hand and pulled him toward the front
door. "Roberta, I shall greet them myself," she told the
butler, who bowed politely and stood aside. "Suzanne is my
dearest friend," she told Fox, her eyes on the approaching
carriages.
Fox was nervously counting servants--there appeared to be
two carriages, one bearing Lady and Lord Modeski, with two
male servants riding atop, and another with luggage and
several other servants of both sexes. Abreast of the
carriages, riding the tallest mounts he had seen in his
life, were four very large women, well armed and
dangerous-looking.
"Guards," Dana told him, seeing his curious look. "Suzanne
must travel dangerous roads between her home and mine. She
always brings along several trusted guards in order to
protect John's safety."
"I imagine he must feel very secure in her care," Fox
remarked, and Dana glanced at him curiously. Was that envy
she heard in his wistful words? It had not occurred to her
before that Fox might feel insecure.
"No one is allowed to trifle with John," she told him
seriously, pushing the thought of his security to the back
of her mind for the moment. She would consider it later,
when she could be alone. "No one." She turned back to
Roberta.
"Roberta, did you make the servants aware of the special
nature of these particular guests?" she inquired.
"Yes, my lady. All have been informed that Lord Modeski is
not to be touched or molested in any way. Dire consequences
has been promised, should that restriction be broken by
any."
Dana nodded her satisfaction as the first carriage drew to a
halt before them.
"Dana!" called a tall, blond woman, emerging almost before
the wheels had stopped turning. "It is good to see you!"
The two women embraced briefly, then Suzanne turned to the
carriage and held out her hand. A man's delicately white
arm emerged, grasping the hand nervously, then John Modeski
shyly exited the carriage.
Fox studied the man who had endured the horrible ordeal of
which Dana had told. He was tall, thin, with light brown
hair that framed his face in a short beard. He was well
dressed, and appeared comfortable in the same boots that Fox
lamented the wearing of on a regular basis. He stood beside
his wife, his bearing naturally graceful and poised, his
hand still clutching Suzanne's tightly.
"This is Fox," Dana said, taking his arm gently and urging
him forward.
"Fox," Suzanne said warmly, taking his hand and squeezing it
quickly. "How lovely to meet you. I am sorry I was unable
to attend your wedding," she went on, turning back to Dana.
"John's mother was quite ill, and we were in attendance to
her."
"Is she recovered?" Dana asked, concern shadowing her face.
Suzanne had told her John was very close to his mother.
"She is perfectly well now, thank you, my lady," John
replied, stepping forward at last. He seemed to have
overcome his shyness, at least for the moment.
"Fox, this is my husband, John Modeski."
"Welcome to Scully Manor, Lord John," Fox said, bowing
formally.
John laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners pleasantly.
"Just call me John, please," he said, looping his arm
companionably through Fox's. "Nobody calls me Lord John
except the servants. How I hate it. I am not used to
having a title, even yet."
"Suzanne, my sister Melissa is visiting. I don't believe
you have met her."
Suzanne shook Melissa's hand warmly. "It is an honor to
make the acquaintance of one who holds so high a position in
our Queen's guard."
"And it is my honor to meet the woman who saved my sister's
life in France," Melissa responded seriously. "Dana has
told me the story."
Suzanne laughed. "It is true, the Frenchwoman's sword was
swift, but luckily, mine was swifter."
"'T'was skill, not luck," Dana objected as they entered the
salon. All traces of the broken elephant had been removed,
she noted with satisfaction as they took their seats.
"It was no more than any good commander would do to preserve
her fiercest warrior," Suzanne said. "And Dana had already
become my friend."
Roberta entered then, bearing a tray of refreshments, and
the conversation flowed freely. Fox listened, fascinated,
as the women recounted stories of their battles in France,
and Melissa even threw in a few tales of her own travels.
Fox was mesmerized by her description of the places she had
visited.
"Is it true that there are societies where men rule, my
lady?" he asked her curiously, and listened raptly while she
described the village of Godanza to him. His eyes grew wide
with wonder at her description of the men going off to hunt
while the women remained behind, tending the homes and
caring for the children.
"Retain no peculiar ideas from this, Husband," Dana said in
a voice soft, yet firm, meant only for his ears. "If such
societies were successful, they would not be limited to
deepest Africa."
He blushed slightly, dropping his eyes to his lap. "I would
never presume to think I could rule you, my lady," he said
with a tiny smile.
"He is quite lovely, Dana," Suzanne said from across the
room. "And he blushes most becomingly. One wonders what
words you whisper in his ear to produce such a fine hue on
his face."
Fox blushed even deeper at her words, but stared up at Lady
and Lord Modeski in surprise when John responded, "Suzanne,
do stop. You embarrass Fox. No doubt he is unused to your
type of teasing."
"No doubt he is very used to it, having been married to Dana
for all these weeks!" Suzanne retorted, gazing laughingly at
her husband.
Fox was astounded at the easy conversation between the two
of them, at the liberties John took freely with his wife--he
grasped her hand frequently, and even kissed her on the
cheek a time or two during their conversation. He had never
seen a man behave thusly toward his wife. Then he
remembered his own earlier behavior, and felt a tightening
in his stomach. Had she truly forgiven him, or was the
remainder of his punishment to come after their guests
departed? After all, Lady Modeski had expected to meet Lord
Scully the Younger--it wouldn't do for Dana to have him
banished to the dungeon. Perhaps she was only waiting a
week before sending him there.
He sought out Walter's gaze, and saw the older man give a
slight nod at his confusion. It was as Walter said, then;
Suzanne did regard John as an equal. The thought simply
boggled the mind.
When Roberta returned to collect the tray, Fox motioned her
over.
"Were there adequate accommodations for all the servants?" he
inquired quietly.
"Don't you worry, my lord," she grinned, running her eyes
seductively down his bared chest toward his groin. "They've
all been taken care of."
Fox drew back reflexively, biting his lip in consternation
when he saw Dana frown at him. It was a harmless glance, he
told himself, and it was expected that he ignore it as
beneath his notice. After all, Roberta was the highest
ranking servant on the estate, and he was a mere man. At
least she hadn't touched him. That, in front of their
guests, would have been too humiliating to endure.
His glance happened upon John, after Roberta withdrew from
the salon, and he was astonished to see that the man looked
positively ill. His eyes were huge, and he was staring at
Roberta's retreating form as if she were a viper about to
strike. As he watched, Suzanne put a calming arm around her
husband's shoulders.
Dana, seeing his reaction to Roberta's lustful examination
of Fox, leaned forward intently. "John, the servants have
been given the usual orders. You will not be touched while
you are here, and should anyone take unwelcome liberties
with you, you are to report it to Suzanne immediately, so it
can be dealt with. You are a guest here, and I will not
have you made uncomfortable."
"Thank you, my lady," John whispered, his hands clenched
tightly together in his lap. He looked pleadingly at
Suzanne, and she stood, holding out her hand to him.
"Dana, if you will excuse us, I believe John would like a
rest before luncheon."
"Of course," Dana replied, rising as well. "You are in the
blue chamber, as usual. Roberta will see to your luggage."
"Lady Maggie, Melissa, gentlemen, thank you for your
company," Suzanne bowed. "We look forward to a long,
friendly visit."
So saying, the Modeskis left the room, John clutching his
wife's hand tightly, her arm encircling him protectively.
"Roberta."
Roberta turned her thoughts from the luggage to her
mistress' voice.
"Return to me when you are finished settling Lady Modeski in
her chamber. I wish to speak with you."
"My lady, if you will excuse me, I should see that the
luncheon preparations are under control," Fox said, and Dana
nodded.
He made his way quickly to the kitchen, wondering what she
wanted to say to Roberta. He knew he would never find out
unless he managed to overhear the servants speaking of it,
for if Dana had intended him to know, she would have
commanded him to remain.
He entered the kitchen to find Natalie calmly stirring a pot
of stew while three of her assistants tormented Alex. The
hapless maid was backed against a wall, his breeches
unfastened, his hardened manhood jutting out as the women
took turns caressing it, and his bared chest. His protests
went unheeded, and Fox had no doubt that the man would end
up on his back servicing the women very shortly.
"Leave him be!" he said sharply, and the women turned to
him.
"Ah, my lord Fox," one of them cooed, leaving Alex, but
allowing her gaze to rake over Fox until it rested pointedly
on the bulge his manhood made in his tight breeches. "You've
a lovely body, but unfortunately, my lady forbids us taking
our satisfaction with you."
"Just to look at him is satisfaction enough," said another,
reaching to pull his shirt open a bit further. He backed
away at her touch.
They had often indulged themselves with a grope of his
person here and there, and occasionally he had been set upon
by more than one of them, usually when they were somewhat in
their cups, but never had he felt so entirely assaulted, and
he put it down to the sleepless night and unusual morning he
had spent. With a flash of empathy, Fox thought he felt a
tiny inkling of what John must have suffered.
Just as he feared they would transfer their attentions from
Alex to him, he heard Roberta's welcome voice call out
loudly.
"Leave off him," she ordered, clapping her hands together to
get the womens' attention. "I has new orders from Lady
Dana."
The servants backed away at the mention of Lady Scully's
name, for none wished to earn her wrath.
"Lady Dana has told me that it makes Lord Modeski
uncomfortable to see our attentions to Lord Fox. Therefore,
while Lady Suzanne and her husband are visiting, neither
Lord Fox nor Lord Walter is to be touched."
There was a slight ripple of protest, to which Natalie
responded, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "Never mind, me
girls. I believe a certain blue-eyed upstairs maid is still
available for our attentions and pleasures whenever we wish
it."
"That is quite true," Roberta agreed, "but for now, you all
have duties to attend."
The women returned to their tasks, happily discussing what
they intended to do to Alex when they were released from
their chores that evening, and Fox groaned. He was certain
that he would pay for any unwanted attentions the servants
forced Alex to endure.
"Lord Fox, my lady wishes your presence in her chamber,"
Roberta said formally, withdrawing from the kitchen at once.
"All is in readiness here," Natalie said in response to his
enquiring look. "Go to your lady."
Fox obeyed quickly, praying that the servants would obey
Dana's order that he was not to be touched while John was
visiting. He wondered if he could persuade Lady Modeski to
make Scully Manor her permanent home.
"Fox, what is wrong?" Dana inquired when he entered the
bedchamber. "You look upset."
Fox approached the chair where she sat, falling to one knee
before her and taking her hand in both of his. He kissed
her palm before looking up into her concerned face.
"My lady, I beg you grant me leave to ask a favor of you."
She smiled, smoothing his hair with her free hand. "Of
course, you may always ask favors of me," she said gently.
She cupped his chin and asked, "What is it you desire,
sweeting?"
He seemed hesitant to speak, now that he was before her,
biting his lip nervously until she raised an eyebrow at him
curiously.
"My lady, the servants...the women...I hate it when they
look at me--sometimes they even touch me!" he suddenly said
all in a rush.
"You appear to have enjoyed their caresses in the past," she
said, reminded of his arousal on the evening he spent
trapped in the stocks.
He flushed bright red at her observation. "Indeed, I do
not," he replied haltingly. "My weak man's body betrays me,
but I wish no hands to caress me save yours. When they
touch me, I feel...cheap and dirty," he finished, his
bravado dying a quick death, the last word coming in almost
a whisper.
She smiled slightly. "Like a whore?"
He bit his lip at her reference to their morning
conversation, and Dana took pity on him.
"It is a common practice, Fox," she reminded him gently. "It
is the way of the world which our Goddess has created."
He shook his head, staring at the hand he still held between
his two larger ones. "I do not believe our Goddess holds
men in lesser esteem than women, else She would not have
made us necessary to the creation of daughters." He raised
his eyes to hers, a bit afraid of the forward way in which
he had spoken, and yet unwilling to back down from the
words. "I have never grown resigned to it, nor has any man
of my acquaintance."
She raised both eyebrows at that revelation. "Does Walter
share your view?"
"I--we have not discussed it, my lady, but I feel certain he
does. Walter is a modest man, and to be treated as a
plaything by those whose rank should be beneath the
Nobility, but is not simply by virtue of their gender...it
does make one feel like a common whore." He spoke simply,
honestly, and Dana found herself contemplating what it must
be like to be a man. She imagined the situation reversed,
that men were the dominant sex and that she, a woman, was
considered a mere plaything, available to all the male
servants with her husband's blessing as long as they did not
cross a particular line. She remembered the way he had
taken her that morning, the excitement she had felt when he
had tied her to their bed, her rush of at his unexpected,
incredibly forward behavior, and then the pleasure she had
experienced at his hands.
How would it have been, she wondered, if it had not been
Fox, but a man, or perhaps several men, uncaring of her
feelings, taking their pleasure with her not because she was
who she was, but simply because she was female, a vessel
into which they could spill their seed. She shuddered,
shaking off the vision, and stared at the man who still
knelt at her feet with renewed respect.
"Fox, I am sorry that you have endured this," she said
seriously. "I truly had not thought--" She broke off,
running an agitated hand through her auburn locks. She
shook her head at her own stupidity.
"I owe you an apology, yet again," she told him with a
rueful grin. "I have treated you as no more than a common
street man, simply because most women do so and that is how
I was raised." She raked her hand through her hair again,
and Fox considered that it would need a good brushing before
they met their guests for supper. "By the Goddess, I begin
to see your side of it," she continued, anger at herself
deepening her voice. "I do not wish you to feel
uncomfortable in your own home. I will speak to the
servants at once."
"My lady, thank you!" he said, nearly overcome with relief.
He kissed her hand again, over and over. "You have my
devotion for all of my life!" he told her fervently.
She laughed aloud at that. "But I would have had that
anyway, would I not? At any rate, I cannot speak for my
mother, but I will discuss the matter with her this
afternoon. Perhaps she will wish to include Walter in this
plan, and perhaps she will not. I can only command how you
are treated."
"I will do anything you wish to thank you," he said. "I
cannot express the relief I feel. Walter and I were both
quite envious of John." His face was serious, but his eyes
were twinkling, and she laughed again.
"Get up now," she told him. "Suzanne and John are resting
from their journey, but they will arise soon. We are to
dress for dinner tonight."
Fox thought of the hated boots, but said nothing. They were
a small price to pay for the freedom she had just granted
him. Squaring his shoulders, he resolved to wear any outfit
she chose for him without complaint.
"And now, sweeting, I have a gift for you."
His eyes lit up. "A gift, my lady? What kind of gift?" He
was on his feet in a flash--Fox loved surprises.
"Do not thank me too quickly," she smiled, withdrawing a
small jeweler's box from a drawer. "Part of the gift you
will enjoy, but part of it will require some bravery on your
part. However, you will look lovely, and I wish you to wear
these things as a sign that you are mine."
He took the box, glancing at her hesitantly before removing
the lid. Inside, gleaming in shiny gold, was a ring, shaped
into the Scully family crest--the head of a lion, the body
forming an 'S' and the tail ending in a sword. Nestled
beside it was a gold earring, bearing the same symbol,
smaller, but just as beautiful. He stood there, uncertain,
while she removed the ring from the box.
"I should have given you this at our wedding, but I was
having it prepared, and the jeweler took ill. She has only
just recovered enough to finish the ring this week."
She slipped it onto his right hand, on the traditional
finger of marking, and Fox gazed at it proudly. Most
husbands didn't have a marriage ring, indeed, it was usually
only the very wealthy who wore them, and this symbol that he
was a part of the Scully family was one he knew he would
treasure always.
"I will give it to our eldest daughter when she takes a
husband," he whispered reverently, caressing the band around
his finger.
"I think that would be a lovely gesture," she replied,
taking his hand in hers and kissing the finger the band
encircled. "And now, the other part of the gift."
Fox swallowed hard. An earring in the left ear was a common
male adornment, but he had never worn one, indeed, he had
been grateful when his mother did not insist upon having his
ear pierced.
"Will it--will it hurt badly?" he asked, his voice small and
frightened.
"It will hurt quite badly for a moment," she replied
honestly. "I will pierce the hole myself, and after the
earring is safely in your ear, I will rub it with some
medicine that will take the pain away."
His face went quite white as she led him over to the bed,
pushing him down until he was lying on it, leaning over him.
"You must trust me," she said, her voice firm, and he nodded
shakily. "You will endure this, because I wish it. I am
your mistress, Fox, and I command you in all things."
In spite of his fear, Fox felt himself growing aroused at
her words. He loved it when Dana became forceful with him,
reminding him of his own natural male submissiveness and her
dominance over him.
"When will you do it, my lady?" he asked breathlessly.
"I will do it now," she told him. "And once we are
finished, I will reward you for your bravery."
He nodded again, his mouth suddenly too dry to answer, and
watched while she rose and collected two of her scarves. He
sighed and closed his eyes as she approached him with them.
"I'm going to tie your wrists very tightly, Fox, because I
don't want you to move while I'm piercing you--you might
hurt yourself."
"Yes, my lady."
He kept his eyes closed while she completed her task, not
opening them even while he heard her rummaging through her
medical valise and setting items upon the night-table next
to the bed. He slitted them open when he felt the bed dip
as she sat beside him, and opened them fully when her
unexpected kiss landed on his nose.
"You are brave and strong, Fox. In a few moments it will
all be over, and you will be well marked with my symbol."
She took his left earlobe between her fingers, pinching it
to get the blood flowing, then he felt her rub an
odd-smelling lotion on it.
"This will cleanse the ear so that you do not get an illness
from the puncture," she told him at his curious look. "I
should not like to lose you to a fever now."
He watched as she reached for something on the night-table,
and clenched his eyes tightly shut again, turning his face
away, when he saw the large needle she picked up. He felt
her turn his head back into position, then place something
beneath his ear lobe. A moment later he felt the prick of
the needle against his flesh, and he sucked in his breath.
"I shall do this quickly, Fox," Dana said, intent upon her
task. "There is no need to draw out the agony."
So saying, she plunged the needle through his ear into the
cork beneath it. She held him, expecting the jerk that
might have bungled the job had she been less experienced,
and almost before the tears began to fall from his eyes, she
was rubbing the soothing salve on the wound.
"There now, darling," she said soothingly. "It is all over
now, and you will look more beautiful than ever with my mark
on your ear and your finger."
Dana quickly inserted the earring through the newly created
hole in her husband's earlobe, dousing it liberally with the
medication that would wash away both the blood and the pain.
She allowed him to lie there, gently stroking his hair and
face, until his breathing returned to normal and the color
crept back into his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying her
attentions, and soon felt her hand leave his face and travel
downward. He couldn't help smiling as her hand cupped his
manhood, growing larger within his breeches.
"How feel you now, sweeting?" she asked mischievously,
leaning forward so her hair tickled his face.
"My lady promised me a reward, I believe," he whispered
shyly, too embarrassed to open his eyes and yet hoping
against hope that she would take him now, while he was still
bound and at her mercy. He tugged experimentally at the
scarves and found that he could not loosen them even a
fraction of an inch.
Dana saw his shy hope, read his mind, and proceeded to
slowly unfasten his shirt until his chest and stomach were
completely bared. Then, bending to take one of his
sensitive nipples in her mouth, she teased and tormented him
with her tongue and teeth until she thought he would burst
out of his breeches with need. He moaned, arching up toward
her, and she took his other nipple, giving it the same
treatment. She moved back and forth, lavishing attention on
first one, then the other, until Fox was whimpering,
writhing uncontrollably on the bed, pleading with her
incoherently to take him, bring him to his release.
With a wicked smile, she released his nipple and began
slowly kissing her way down his stomach, lapping eagerly at
the indention on his belly until his pleading turned to
all-out begging. He promised her anything, everything, his
eternal devotion, if she would only bring him satisfaction,
and finally, deciding that he had endured enough torment,
she released his breeches and took his member into her
mouth, stroking up and down slowly with her tongue, nibbling
lightly with her teeth, until at last he arched against her,
screamed out her name, and shuddered his passion into her
warm, moist mouth.
Fox lay in a daze, feeling light-headed and dizzy, while she
cleaned him with a damp washing cloth and straightened his
clothing. She untied the scarves, kissing each wrist in
turn as she placed his arms gently beside him on the bed.
"I fear you shall have bruises again," she observed, and he
shrugged lightly.
"I do not mind the bruises, when they are accompanied by
such pleasure," he whispered shyly. "My lady, please..."
"What, Fox?" she whispered in return.
"Please kiss me."
She did, quite thoroughly, and before they left the chamber,
he had given her as much pleasure as she had given him,
perhaps more.
They entered the dining room, Fox walking behind Dana as
usual, and Suzanne, seeing the couple, gave an audible gasp.
Fox had been dressed carefully by Dana, wearing a shirt of
black silk, which she had allowed him to button to
mid-chest, much to his delight. His hips were encased in a
matching pair of black breeches, the boots on his feet were
polished to perfection, and the earring glittered in his
ear. When he raised his right hand self-consciously to
brush back his hair, the marriage ring glimmered in the
lamplight. He was positively stunning, and Suzanne crossed
to take his hand, raising it to her lips and kissing it
reverently.
"Fox, you are an absolute vision," she remarked. "Dana, I
am almost envious of you!"
Dana smiled when John, pretending jealousy at his wife's
attention to Fox, moved to her side and slipped his arm
about her waist.
"What say you, Dana," John jested. "Shall we exchange
spouses for the evening?"
Fox appeared shocked, unable to determine as yet if his new
friend was joking or not, but Dana threw back her head and
laughed loudly.
"I should not like to face your lady after having dared to
touch you, John," she told him with a wink at her former
Captain. "She is much larger than I, and quite ferocious
when crossed."
Suzanne, having released Fox's hand, grabbed John and jerked
him playfully against her body, staring into his eyes with a
smouldering intensity.
Fox tossed Dana a pleading look and she shook her head,
taking his hand to lead him toward the table. "Nay, Fox, be
not afraid. Suzanne only teases. She would no sooner give
John over to another woman than I would relinquish you."
"I am happy to hear it, my lady," he said, joining in the
fun now that he had been reassured. "They appear
well-matched."
"Indeed, John is my match, my mate for life," Suzanne said
softly, still staring into her husband's eyes, and she
leaned forward, bestowing a kiss upon his lips that, while
appearing chaste to observers, bespoke of much passion to
come later. John gave a small, secret smile as he twined
his fingers in Suzanne's, and the two of them approached the
dinner table together.
"Mother has asked that we excuse her and Walter this
evening," Dana announced when the four of them were seated.
"I believe she wished to spend some time alone with him.
Melissa has gone into to town to visit a friend, as she must
depart for London on the morrow."
"It is like old times," Suzanne remarked, "with the addition
of your lovely husband, Dana. Come, let us regale him with
stories of our conquests, that he may understand what a
fierce warrior he has married." As she spoke, her eyes
twinkled merrily.
Dana laughed again, and Fox watched her happily, aware that
there had not been many occasions for such gaiety since their
marriage. As for himself, he had been so upset by Alex's
recent revelation that he had been more quiet and withdrawn
than usual, but he had been doing his best to be the perfect
husband he had resolved to be. Now that Dana had forbidden
the servants to molest him, he felt more confident in
searching for a solution to the Alex problem. In any case,
there was nothing to be done about it tonight, so Fox
squared his shoulders and set himself to enjoy his dinner.
Both couples sniffed appreciatively at the bowls of steaming
rabbit stew that were placed before them, and Fox picked up
his spoon eagerly. It was one of his favorite meal
beginnings.
He took a large spoonful of the soup, instantly spitting it
back into his bowl, grabbing at his goblet of water while
Dana watched him in surprise.
"Fox?" she questioned, confusion evident, but her query was
answered immediately when Suzanne took a bite of the stew.
"Pepper! Goddess, that's hot!" Suzanne gasped, grabbing at
her own goblet which had been filled with wine.
John and Dana put down their spoons in tandem, each turning
to their respective spouses to assist them in recovering.
Fox, his eyes streaming, coughed a few times, feeling Dana's
pat on his back, then pulled himself together.
"If my lady will excuse me," he murmured, "I shall discover
what caused such a grievous error with the dinner
preparations."
Dana merely nodded, seeing that he was all right and turning
her attention to Suzanne.
"I don't understand it," she was saying as he quickly left
the room. "Natalie is an excellent chef."
"Natalie, I am in need of your assistance," Fox called,
entering the kitchen. The servants, most of them seated at
the long trestle table where they took their meals, looked
up in surprise when Lord Scully the Younger entered.
"Yes, Lord Fox, what is the trouble?" Natalie asked,
emerging from a side room bearing a tray of breads left over
from the day before. She set it at one end of the servants'
table, then gave him her full attention.
"Has anyone here tasted the rabbit stew?" he asked quietly,
not wishing to broadcast the problem to the entire staff. He
needn't have worried--they were intent upon getting their
fair share of the bread making its way down the table.
"No, my lord, that was reserved for Lady Dana and her guests
alone," Natalie told him. "Is something wrong?"
In answer, he picked up a spoon and scooped up a bit of the
stew, holding it out for her to try. Almost as soon as her
mouth closed around it, she was spitting the vile mixture
out into a bucket used for washing pots and plates.
"What happened to it?" she demanded, staring into the stew
pot as if the answers lay therein.
"Did you follow the recipe I gave you exactly?"
Natalie shook her head. "I didn't prepare the stew, Elan
did. It seemed a simple enough dish, and I am attempting to
train him to be my assistant. Perhaps he is too stupid to
follow a simple recipe," she said darkly, turning to stare
at poor Elan.
Elan, hearing his name spoken, rose and approached the two.
"My lord Fox, is there something wrong?" he queried
uncertainly.
Fox gave him a taste of the stew, watching as his reaction
matched Natalie's.
"But--I don't understand!" he exclaimed. "I followed the
instructions you gave me to the letter, I swear it!"
"May I see the recipe?" asked Fox calmly, holding out his
hand. He could feel his gut curling, but kept his face
carefully neutral. Elan quickly retrieved the scrap of
paper, written in Fox's own perfect hand, and after taking a
look, Fox immediately spied the problem.
"Look at this," he whispered, turning his back so the other
servants couldn't overhear. "Someone has changed the pepper
measurement. It is now four times what it should be!"
Elan felt his face drain. "I--I thought--that you had done
it, my lord," he gasped.
Fox looked at him then, taking note of his fear, and put a
comforting hand upon his shoulder.
"Do not worry, Elan, it was a simple mistake," he reassured.
"You will not be punished, if that is your fear."
"But indeed, he should be!" Natalie glowered, for she felt
that anything that emerged from her kitchen reflected upon
her, no matter who had done the actual preparation.
"Nay, Natalie, he shall not be," Fox said firmly. "If I
must speak to my lady to prevent it, I shall. It was a
simple mistake, most likely mine own. I was ill abed when
these menus and recipes were prepared, you recall. It is
quite conceivable that I simply wrote the amount
incorrectly."
Natalie took the paper, gazing at it thoughtfully for a
moment. "I do not believe that is what happened," she said
at last, "but neither is that Elan's handwriting. He is
perhaps a dolt when it comes to measuring peppers, but he
did nothing with malicious intent."
"I am certain of it," Fox declared. "Serve the rest of the
meal, and we will simply forget the stew. Elan, think
nothing more of this, it was not your fault."
"Thank you, my lord Fox," Elan breathed gratefully, hurrying
to empty the rest of the offending stew into a garbage pail.
Not even the animals would eat such slop, he reflected as he
took the stew pot outside to rinse it at the pump.
Fox returned to the dining room, making light of the
incident, and the rest of the meal passed pleasantly, but he
noticed Dana giving him odd looks throughout.
Walter stared apprehensively at his wife as she closed the
bedchamber door quietly. She had excused them from the
evening's socialization, saying she wished only to spend a
quiet evening with her husband, leaving the younger people
to entertain one another. Thus was the privilege of age,
she had smiled before taking his hand in a firm grasp and
leading him up the stairs after the two of them had
shared an intimate, early dinner.
Now, she was eyeing him speculatively, and he sighed. He
had a choice, he knew. He could either tell her now what
she wished to know, escaping the methods she planned to use
in forcing the secret from him and enjoy a good quiet
night's rest, or he could hold out as long as he was able,
enduring the Goddess knew what until he finally revealed the
story, but enjoying the inevitable end result of her
interrogation.
"Now Walter," she said patiently. "You know that I dislike
secrets. You are aware that you cannot simply dangle a
juicy tidbit before me, as you did earlier today, and expect
me to simply disregard it. Indeed, I have dwelt upon little
else for the entire afternoon."
"Yes, my lady, I realize that," he nodded, his eyes
downcast.
She removed her tunic, then her trousers, standing before
him in nothing more than the undergarment she favored
beneath her casual clothing--a concoction of lace and white
silk that made his eyes widen and his manhood take notice.
Cursing his weakness, he bit his lip. He truly did not wish
to tell the story, for it had been a humiliating incident in
his life, and yet...as his wife, did she not deserve to
know?
"Will you reveal the details now?" she asked, approaching
him slowly, "or must I persuade you further?"
"How will my lady go about persuading me?" he asked
cautiously, breathing heavily as he stared down into her
lovely eyes.
She smiled coyly. "You must make your decision first," she
informed him. "Speak now, or speak later--you know I will
not be deterred, Walter."
"I--" He took a deep breath, truly intending to reveal the
story, and found he could not release the words. "I'm
sorry, my lady," he said softly. "It is something of which
I cannot speak."
It was her turn to sigh. "Very well, Walter. Undress and
come to bed. It is early yet, I know, but we are both
gaining in years, and shall enjoy the extra time for sleep."
So saying, she crawled beneath the coverlet while he stared
at her, his eyes wide with surprise--rarely did Maggie give
up a quest so easily, and he had not expected it this
evening.
"Extinguish the candles, will you dear?" she yawned, turning
on her side and tucking the coverlet beneath her chin, and,
still reeling in astonishment at her apparent surrender, he
did so.
He slipped quickly into his nightshirt, thanking the Goddess
that Maggie had decided to be merciful. But then, the
moment he climbed into bed beside her, he knew he had
severely underestimated his wife.
"Now," she said briskly, snapping the metal armband around
his right wrist, hauling his arms above his head, and
placing the matching band on his left wrist. She hooked
them together with a short chain she threaded around the
wooden headboard, and sat back to survey her handiwork in
the moonlight.
"Maggie, my lady--"
"You will not deny me what I wish to know, Walter," she
interrupted, her tender voice edged with the steel that
reminded him that Maggie was, after all, the matriarch of
the Scully women.
"Will you torture me, then, until I break my promise and
tell you?" he asked sarcastically, jerking at the chain that
held him captive, and instantly regretted his words.
"I shall do nothing of the sort," she replied, reaching to
re-light the candles, then drawing the draperies carefully
closed so that no inquisitive person could possibly see into
their chamber. "I merely wish to have you inform me of the
effectiveness of certain new...implements my daughter
brought me from London."
"Im--implements?" he stammered, watching wide-eyed as she
crossed to a drawer and removed a small bag. He stared as
she withdrew several items, laying them on the table beside
the bed.
The first item she took up was a wicked-looking paddle, and
Walter swallowed hard when he recognized it. Such devices
were designed specifically with the punishment of wayward
men in mind, and Lady Sharon had owned one similar to this.
Walter was grateful he was lying on his back as Maggie
approached him. Her gentle smile would have been reassuring
had it not been for the instrument she carried.
"My lady, please..." he began as she drew near, but she
merely shook her head.
"Walter, a husband must trust his wife with all his
secrets," she said tenderly. "I expect you to do so with
me, willingly or not."
She lay the paddle on the bed, reaching for the hem of his
nightshirt, and quickly slid it up to reveal his bare thigh.
Then she retrieved the paddle, and a moment later he yelped
loudly as she rolled him onto his side and swatted his hip
with it.
"My lady!" he gasped, tugging reflexively at his bonds as he
squirmed to take his hip out of her reach. "That is simply
vicious!"
"Vicious," she repeated thoughtfully, gazing at the paddle.
"Thank you, Walter. And now..." She assessed the
implements remaining on the table, picking up a particularly
nasty looking cane.
His eyes widened with fear as she studied him, and she
smiled again. "Should you wish to avoid this trial, I shall
listen to you," she suggested, but he remained silent,
closing his eyes and turning his head away from the
threatening cane.
"Very well," she continued, and he bit his lip as she
quickly rolled him onto his other side. Then as he choked
back his scream, Maggie quickly marked his other hip with a
stripe of the cane.
"My lady, please," he begged, tears forming in his eyes as
he chanced a look up at her, hoping to find mercy. "It was
a very long time ago, and I have never told anyone of it.
My lady would be bored and embarrassed."
"I should prefer to make that decision," she answered,
replacing the cane and taking up the last object. He had
been unable to see what the third implement was, and when
she brought it into view, he began to struggle wildly,
already feeling his skin crawl.
"Not that!" he gasped, his eyes pleading with her as he
attempted to wriggle away from her. "My lady, I beg of you,
not that!"
Maggie laughed, shaking her head in amusement at her
husband. He could endure the paddle and the cane, but a
mere feather caused him to break down and beg.
"You may end this at any time, Walter," she commented,
stroking the tip of the feather along the sole of his left
foot and watching with interest as he jerked it away.
She lay the feather down and retrieved two more bands,
fitting them quickly around his ankles, threading yet
another chain through the bed's footboard, and soon Walter
was stretched helplessly on the bed, eyeing the feather with
horror.
She picked it up again, stroking it slowly up his leg toward
his awakening manhood, and he whimpered when the tip of it
found his sensitive sacs, probing at them gently.
"My lady, please, I beg of you--" he began again, but broke
off with a sharply indrawn breath when the feather began
tickling the very tip of his rod.
"As I remember, you said that Lady Sharon gambled..." Maggie
prompted, mercilessly attacking his most sensitive areas
while he squirmed in a fruitless effort to elude the
torment.
"She--lost frequently--" he managed between barks of
tortured laughter. "Chess was not--her best game--"
"Lady Sharon lost a game of chess...that's hardly shameful."
The feather slipped beneath his nightshirt to stroke across
his flat belly and then further upwards, finding his
sensitive nipples. His manhood stood completely erect now,
and he groaned as she leaned forward, blowing air softly
across it. He hungered for the feel of her sweet mouth
around him, but knew that pleasure would be denied him until
he gave her what she wanted.
"But she...she lost to Lady Selah Withers," he panted.
"Maggie, please!"
"And the wager, Walter?" she questioned silkily, returning
the feather to his rod, stroking it slowly up the length of
him, circling the tip, and then teasing it back down until
she found his sacs again. Walter groaned, straining against
his chains, his body covered with a fine sheen of sweat, but
he could not elude her.
"The wager--was--" She leaned over him again, and now
instead of the feather torturing him, it was the silky
strands of her hair, touching him with a touch that was
barely there, tormenting him with a desire greater than he
had ever known. He could smell the soap she washed her hair
with, and the scent went straight to his groin, making an
uncomfortable situation even more desperate.
"Yes? The wager was...?"
"Me!" he gasped, arching up toward her mouth, moaning in
frustration when he did not find it. "The wager was me!"
She sat back, the game forgotten, staring at him in
horrified shock.
"Do you mean to tell me," she questioned in a tightly
controlled voice, "that Lady Sharon actually wagered
ownership of you on a game of chess?"
"Well...no, not ownership..." He was extremely upset by the
memories that came flooding back, but she was not about to
allow him to stop now.
"What, then?"
"One night," he replied at last, turning his head away from
her, as if ashamed to allow her to see him, now that he had
told her the story. She grasped him by the chin and forced
him to look in her eyes.
"She wagered a night with her husband, and she lost," she
repeated, as if to confirm the appalling truth to herself.
Such wild wagers among the younger nobility were not unheard
of at court, or in London perhaps, but were highly unusual
here in the country. And no decent, true and honorable lady
would ever do such a thing to a poor defenseless man,
regardless of the game.
He nodded.
"And Lady Withers, what did she do?"
He bit his lip again, and flushed dark red, so dark she
could clearly see his discomfiture even in the candlelight.
His eyes roamed about the room--he was clearly embarrassed
that she knew what had happened.
"She...took you?"
"Yes, my lady," he whispered, feeling the gut-wrenching
shame even after all these years. They had been very young
when Lady Sharon had gambled his favors away so foolishly,
but he had never forgotten the feeling as Lady Withers had
led him away from his wife, to spend the night in her
chamber. When he had been returned to Lady Sharon, he had
fallen upon his knees, sobbing his humiliation into her lap,
and had begged her never to do such a thing again. She had
gently stroked his hair, making light of the incident, but
she had never offered up her husband as a wager in a game
again--at least not so far as he knew. If she had done so,
she had not lost.
"Walter, you are my most precious possession," Maggie
whispered, gently releasing his wrists from the chain that
held them. "I would never do such a thing to you, never."
She gathered him into her arms to comfort him, and carefully
stroked his back. "While I live, you need not worry that I
would ever suffer another woman to touch you."
"Thank you, my lady. It was--not an experience I soon
forgot," he said in a low voice.
"Indeed, you have not forgotten it yet," she observed,
taking one of his trembling hands in hers and bringing it to
her lips for a comforting kiss. "I should think the shame
of such an event would never be forgotten."
"Perhaps my lady could remove the bitterness of the memory,
at least for tonight?" he suggested, glancing down at his
still erect manhood.
Maggie smiled. "Indeed, my sweet Bear, I shall give it my best
effort," she replied, reaching for him, and as she
positioned herself above him and slid his silken shaft into
the depths of her womanhood, all thoughts of Lady Sharon and
her gambling losses were driven far from his mind.
Later that evening, after the meal had been cleared away,
after Suzanne and John had beaten them soundly at cards and
all had retired to their chambers, Dana stared at Fox in the
mirror as she brushed out her hair.
He sat on the bed, removing his boots gratefully, flexing
his feet in their newfound freedom.
"Fox?" she said softly, and he rose and crossed to her,
silently taking the brush and beginning to stroke it through
her hair. It had become a nightly ritual, one he cherished.
When he made no sound, she continued. "Such a mistake is
unlike you."
Fox shrugged, keeping his eyes downcast. "It is as I said,
my lady. I was ill, and not clear in my thinking. I am
sorry for ruining your dinner."
She placed a hand gently upon his hip, stroking almost
absently over his pleasingly curved buttocks, enjoying the
little sigh of pleasure he gave at her touch.
"The dinner was not ruined, indeed, everything else was
prepared to perfection. You are a fine husband, Fox, and I
am pleased with the way you run my home."
He smiled, coloring a little at her praise.
"I merely question whether the mistake was truly yours. You
are far too kindhearted, Fox. I can picture you taking the
blame for Elan in order to save him from punishment."
"My lady, I assure you, the mistake was not Elan's," he
answered truthfully as he stared at her reflection in the
mirror. Fox put down the hairbrush, twining his fingers
through her silky hair and pulling her head back so that he
could drop a kiss upon her lips. Dana allowed him this
liberty for a moment before her arms reached up to clasp
around his neck, taking command of him and of the kiss,
deepening it until he was nearly gasping against her.
"You have pleased me greatly this day, husband," she
whispered against his mouth. "Should you like to be atop me
tonight?"
Mindful of his perfect-husband vow, Fox answered, "I wish
only what you wish, my lady."
She pulled away, standing to glare at him, her hands on her
hips menacingly. "And if I say I wish my wild, untamed Fox
to return, what say you then?" she demanded.
"I--I--what?" he asked, confused at her sudden change.
She gave an aggravated sigh. "Fox, you are entirely too
malleable these days. Ever since I made you spend that
damned night in the dungeon, you have been much too obedient
for my tastes. Are you so afraid I might send you back
there?"
He stared at the floor, his hands clenched at his sides. "I
am only trying to be a good husband, my lady," he said
tightly. "I have no wish to displease you in any manner."
"And I have no wish to be married to a stranger!"
His head shot up and she caught the look of hurt on his face
before he masked it. "Am I to understand that you wish me
to disobey you on occasion?" he asked, deliberately leaving
off the respectful 'my lady' with which he normally
addressed her.
Her face softened, but he was beyond reassurance in his
hurt. "I only wish you to be the man you are," she said
gently. "Shy and mischievous and wild and reserved and
always coming up with a plan to drive me berserk. I miss
that about you. Had I wished for a perfect husband, I
should have found a silly, boring man raised in a convent."
He remained silent, unmollified, for her words had cut
deeply. It was simply too confusing. He had been trying so
hard not to disgrace her, to earn her affection, and now she
was telling him she preferred him flawed! What did she
require of him?
Seeing that he was still angry, Dana approached him slowly,
her eyes promising much. She took him by the hand, looking
up and down his entire body with pride. He was beautiful,
this husband of hers, never more beautiful than when in the
throes of passion, and that was how she wanted to see him
now.
"Come, Fox," she bid him gently. "If you are to be the
perfect husband, you must do as your lady commands."
"What is it you wish of me?" he asked stiffly, unwillingly
allowing her to pull him toward the bed.
"I wish you to make me scream with pleasure," she said
seriously. "And then I wish to do the same to you. I wish
to hold you in my arms as we fall asleep, and when we wake
in the morning, I wish to find the untamed Fox I married in
my bed."
"My lady enjoys punishing me," he accused.
"It is the taming of you that I enjoy," she corrected,
falling backwards suddenly onto the bed, pulling him down
atop her. "There are many methods to employ when taming
such a wild one as you, sweeting, and I plan to enjoy them
all. Now, I have offered to allow you to be atop me tonight.
If you do not wish it, I could always retrieve my scarves
and ribbon from the drawer and punish you with pleasure for
your insolence. I have not yet forgiven you for beating me
at chess."
He laughed then, he simply couldn't help himself,
remembering her astonishment when he had checkmated her
queen. She had glowered at him, accusing him of using manly
wiles to distract her thinking, then she had taken him to
bed and made slow, passionate love to him until the wee
hours of the morning. He had smiled all the next day.
"May I kiss you, my lady?" he asked, his face inches from
hers, and she smiled, happy to see his good humor restored.
"You may do as you wish," she whispered, and he lowered his
mouth to hers, taking her lips in a claiming kiss that was
reminiscent of the way she took his, teaching her what he
had learned from her, and soon she screamed her pleasure,
and much more, for Fox had a passionate nature beneath his
shyness, one which she treasured above all other things.
It was going to be an interesting life...
End Chapter 8