“I swear, lass, I ain’t sure ‘bout this gown o’ yours,” Bridget says around a mouthful of straight pins. “Seems a trifle odd if ye ask me.”
Bridget is right—it is a trifle odd. But it’s also more than a trifle sexy.
My ballgown in one part medieval princess, two parts dominatrix, and one part urban vampire. With a little Nicole Kidman-style glam thrown in. I must say, I’m pretty proud of it.
The gown has a long, asymmetrical overskirt in black, and a longer, fuller underskirt in deep blood red. The skirts are gathered into a tight pointed waistline that leads up to a red-and-black laced corset that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. The plunging neckline reveals my snow-white décolletage, and the corset itself is split open, revealing a black satin stomacher beneath that stops just shy of my nipples. The result is enough sexy, shiny cleavage for a Maxim cover.
If the red-hot corset and the skirt with a design and color scheme right out of a Van Helsing comic weren’t spicy enough, I more than make up for it on my upper half. One half of the bodice is sleeveless and shoulderless, all the material gathered up over my left shoulder in the “elegant cavewoman” style sported by so many high-fashion getups on the Oscar red carpet last year (and poorly knocked off a week later at Bloomingdale’s). But my very own designer original is no knockoff. Unlike the “elegant cavewoman” gowns at the Oscars that had one demure, solid shoulder-to-wrist sleeve, my one sleeve is like an arm corset, laced up one side and down the other with red and black satin ribbons that show off plenty of skin.
Just as soon as Bridget is finished with that hem, I’ll be ready to stroll into the Harlot’s Ball as the baddest, sexiest, most fashion-forward dominatrix the Middle Ages has ever seen.
Bridget pins up the last bit of hem, takes a needle and thread from her bosom pocket, and begins to sew. “I hope ye know what ye are doin’, lass. You’re liable to turn more than a few heads this evenin’ in that getup.”
“Oh, I’ve got everything all planned out, don’t worry.” And I do. In a manner of speaking, anyway. I haven’t exactly worked out all the details yet.
Bridget finishes sewing up the hem, dusts off her hands, and stands up. “Well, I’d love to hear what ye ‘ave in mind, considerin’ that ye want me help escapin’ th’ Hall an’ all.”
I bite my lip. “It’s kind of um, well, complicated.”
Bridget folds her arms across her chest and cocks her head at me. “I ain’t a-gonna let up ‘til ye at least gimme a hint, lass.”
“Well, Bridget, let’s just say I’ll be putting some of my unique talents on display tonight,” I say. “The gown is all part of that. And if all goes well, you and I will have some help on our quest to get out of here and back to our own times.”
Bridget purses her lips. “But I thought ye’uz gonna take me to America with ye, lass.”
“Oh yeah, right, of course,” I stammer. “Assuming you still want to go. Trenton, New Jersey really isn’t that great of a place.”
“I’m sure it beats bein’ locked up here as a common chambermaid, lass,” she replies. “I’ll just sit back an’ let ye do yer work, an’ ye kin let me know if ye need me ‘elp along the way.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “Especially since most of the work is going to involve me, two naked men, and a lot of rope.”
Bridget gives me a strange look. “Probably best I don’t ask no more questions then, lass,” she says, then disappears down the hall to find some cold cream.
I take a long look at myself in the full-length mirror. I almost don’t recognize the sultry figure staring back at me. All traces of the mousy, timid, and geeky New Jersey toll collector and history buff are gone. In their place is a tall, voluptuous, and insanely sexy vamp in a medieval dominatrix-slash-time-traveling-sorceress outfit. I could have walked right off the set of a Red Sonja movie. Or maybe a glammed-up medieval version of Resident Evil. I can hardly believe the transformation myself.
The only question now is, how am I going to use my wild new self-image to get what I want the most? And moreover, what exactly do I want the most?
Just a few short weeks ago, the answer to that question would have been easy—a one-way trip back to New Jersey, without so much as a glance back in the Hall of Harlots’ direction. But now, things are a lot more complicated. Not only do I think I might have fallen in love with Pembroke, I’ve also fallen in lust with the Rose Knight. Not to mention the fact that I am enjoying the hell out of my new role as Lady Louisa of the Crossroads, medieval dominatrix and sexpot extraordinaire. Enjoying it a bit too much, in fact. I’m enjoying it so much, I’m even wondering whether it makes sense to try to escape the Hall of Harlots at all.
I shake my head hard, trying to clear it of all the confusing thoughts. I have a mission to focus on tonight, after all. Tonight, by hook or by crook, I need to get Lord Verdigris, Pembroke, and the Rose Knight into my bed. Maybe all at the same time. And then, I need to figure out what the hell is going on with those time-travel portals—even if the very idea of traveling through time unescorted scares the crap out of me.
It’s a lot to keep a girl busy. Especially when she’s wearing a corset.
Chapter 11
I’ve only been at the Harlots’ Ball for five minutes, and I’ve already having problems.
Like Madam Jasphet and her minions, for example. They’ve been staring me down from across the room ever since I got here. Madam Jasphet looks seconds away from throwing a poison asp fangs-first in my direction, while Mabel the flapper and Prudence the corseted Victorian make menacing (and obscene) gestures at me. I’ve already tried getting them off my tail several times, but no matter how much I move around the room (or duck into corners, or hide behind chamber pots) they always reappear, bent on winning a Stare To The Death contest.
Suddenly the idea of time travel doesn’t seem so bad.
As if on cue, Pembroke pops out of one of the heavy wooden doors just behind me. He’s dressed in an outfit tailor-made for Napoleon’s court—a blue velvet frock coat with gold trim, a cream-colored silk cravat, and bright yellow breeches. Even if Pembroke’s attire is separated from everyone else’s in the room by hundreds of years, he doesn’t seem out of place at all. He glances over both shoulders to see if anyone is watching us besides Madam Jasphet and her minions—whom he pretends not to notice—then sidles up to me. “Ah, Lady Louisa,” he whispers, placing a hand surreptitiously on the small of my back. “You are the best sight I’ve seen all day.”
“It’s been a lot longer than a day since we last saw each other,” I point out, trying hard not to sound bitter.
“I know, madam,” he whispers, leaning in closer. “Forgive me. It has been too difficult to escape my duties on the Personal Guard. And Lord Verdigris has become quite possessive of you.”
“You’d never know it from my end,” I whisper back, all the while keeping one eye on Madam Jasphet. “He hasn’t been in to see me in almost two weeks. Nobody else has, either.” I think about mentioning that my crotch has been getting pretty damn itchy for satisfaction since its last spectacular encounter with the Rose Knight, but decide against it.
“I believe Lord Verdigris and the others have just been preoccupied these last weeks,” he replies. “As have I. Louisa, His Lordship has kept me on a rather tight leash since last we saw each other. I am rather worried that he suspects something is between us.”
My stomach does a little flip-flop. “Are you sure?”
“No, madam, I am not. But I do have my suspicions, especially since His Lordship has insisted I accompany him on his two most recent time-travel excursions to Ancient Babylonia. ‘Tho I believe I’ve discovered two new portals in the Castle as the benefit of doing so.”
I take a few tiny steps towards one of the tiny sitting-room nooks that jut off the ballroom and jerk my heard for Pembroke to follow me there. “Two new portals, huh? And where might they be?”
Pembroke grins. “Well, you might have a little trouble believing this, madam,” he
says. “But one of them just happens to be the doorway into your bedchamber.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How is that possible? If that were true, wouldn’t I have noticed somebody coming and going through my doorway from centuries afar by now?”
Pembroke chuckles. “Alas, madam, with time travel there come many paradoxes.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Perhaps it will be easier for you to understand once you and I succeed in opening one of the portals,” he replies. “There is another portal at the far end of the ballroom, just before the gateway into the Hall of Harlots. That one will probably be easier for us to access tonight.”
“Not necessarily,” I counter, “considering your theory of how we open them. How am I supposed to tap into my sensual powers in full view of everyone? Getting hot and heavy requires a little privacy, you know.”
Pembroke chuckles again. “Oh, I am sure we shall manage. And once the Ball has been in full swing for an hour or two, everyone will be too drunk with grog and merriment to notice.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” I scan the room, looking for Lord Verdigris and the Rose Knight, and see neither. “Tell me something, Pembroke. How do you feel about a ménage a trois?”
“I have never had the pleasure of sampling one, madam. Tho’ to sample one in your arms would be a pleasure in the extreme.”
“Good,” I say with a grin. “Because you just volunteered.” I take him by the arm and steer him across the ballroom towards the spot where he says the time portal is. “But before we get started, you need to find us a partner in crime.”
“Pray, whatever do you mean, madam?” Pembroke asks, mock-serious.
“If we’re going to have a ménage a trois, Pembroke, then we need to find a trois. I already have someone in mind, in fact.”
He raises an eyebrow. “And who might that be, madam?”
“Someone who can probably help the two of us on our quest. The Rose Knight.”
Pembroke does a double-take. “The Rose Knight? The Rose Knight himself? I think I’d rather be eaten alive by wolves.”
“Why do you say that?”
Pembroke frowns. “I trust you are not acquainted with the Rose Knight’s reputation?”
“Oh, I’ve heard a little about it here and there,” I say, evasive.
“Then you obviously have not heard how the Rose Knight looks upon every man besides himself as a mortal enemy.”
That stops me in my tracks. “No, I haven’t heard that part.”
“It’s true,” Pembroke replies. “The Rose Knight is so embittered by what happened to his beloved that he blames the entire male half of humanity for it.”
“Well, Pembroke, it might interest you to know that I hold considerable sway with the Rose Knight,” I say. “And what better opportunity is there for you to change his opinion on all of mankind than by having a little fun in the sack with him and me—a woman he adores?”
Pembroke mulls that over for a moment. “Are you really sure he admires you as much as all that, madam? Because I daresay that would make you a most formidable woman indeed.”
“Oh, I’m formidable, all right,” I chirp just as I catch sight of the Rose Knight out of the corner of my eye. He’s just entered the ballroom, and dressed in full shining armor at that, dragging his seven-foot lance alongside him.
The Rose Knight is always ready for battle, even at a party.
“Speak of the devil,” I whisper into Pembroke’s left ear. “There he is.”
“I shall allow you to approach him, madam,” he whispers back. “Because I daresay the man frightens me.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, Pembroke, I frighten him. In a good way.”
I sashay over to the far side of the room, my vampire-like skirts swishing across the floorboards and catching the firelight in their red satin seams. I stop just short of The Rose Knight’s polished steel boot-tops. “Hello, Trenton,” I coo. “Remember me?”
His green eyes meet mine, and he smiles. “Of course, milady. How could I forget you?”
“Stranger things have happened, Trenton. I hope you don’t mind me calling you that out here in the open.”
He glances over both shoulders, making sure no one is listening. “So long as no one hears, milady, you may call me whatever name pleases you.”
“Good, Trenton. Because ‘The Rose Knight’ is kind of a mouthful.” I lean in closer, give him a nice view of my corseted cleavage. “How’s the whole vengeance thing going for you lately? It’s been awhile since I’ve heard from you, so I’m just curious.”
“Vengeance is a slow and painful mistress,” he replies. “And not a pleasurable one. Unlike you, Lady Louisa of the Crossroads.”
“If it’s my pleasure you’re seeking this evening, Trenton, I have a proposal to make. A proposal that just might make your little vengeance problem a bit easier to manage.”
“I should like very much to hear this proposal, milady,” Trenton says, taking a seductive step closer. “But first things first. Yonder Egyptian harlot and her two servants seem intent upon doing you harm this evening. Shall I dispense of them for you, milady? It would be no greater pleasure for me than to kill your enemies for you.”
I cough. Ordering peoples’ deaths really isn’t up my alley, even if Madam Jasphet isn’t quite that benevolent. “Umm, that won’t be necessary, Trenton. Though I do appreciate the thought.” I clear my throat and lean in closer, keeping one watchful eye on Madam Jasphet and her minions all the while. “Trenton, my proposal involves not only a taste of my sensual powers, but also an opportunity to unlock the secret of Lord Verdigris’ time portals. Are you interested?”
Trenton’s face lights up. “You need only point the way, milady, and I shall follow.”
I take Trenton—The Rose Knight—by the arm and gently guide him across the ballroom, never taking my eyes off Madam Jasphet and her two lackeys. I feel a secret twinge of pleasure when I see the Egyptian Ice-Crotch’s expression turn from seething hatred to fear and surprise. She obviously wasn’t expecting me to have the legendary Rose Knight himself under my thumb, and in a public place to boot. I think I just might be safe from her now—for the time being, anyway.
We make it back over to where Pembroke is standing. “Pembroke, this is the Rose Knight. You can call him Trenton. Trenton, this is Pembroke. He’s a member of the Personal Guards, and a prisoner of Lord Verdigris, just like I am.”
Trenton bows stiffly at Pembroke. “Greetings,” he says, his voice gruff and unfriendly.
Pembroke bows deeply in return. “A pleasure to meet the legendary Rose Knight. Your fearsome reputation precedes you.”
Trenton makes a deep growling sound in his throat, obviously not pleased with Pembroke’s comment. “Why don’t you two gentlemen come with me and get better acquainted,” I offer, hoping to smooth things over. “There’s a little nook against the wall over there where we can have some privacy.”
I make a beeline for a small chapel-like nook off the main ballroom, and beckon the two men to follow me there. The chapel-nook is more of a tiny room set in from the stone wall, and has a small velvet-covered bench, a tiny altar with an ancient statue of the Virgin Mary besotted with melting penny candles, and a tufted sheepskin rug big enough for three people to stretch out full-length upon.
Perfect. I couldn’t have picked a better spot for a ménage a trois if I tried.
“Why don’t you two gentlemen have a seat?” I motion towards the velvet-covered bench. “Trenton, why don’t you tell Pembroke a little bit about yourself?”
Trenton just glowers at me. And Pembroke glowers at him.
“Now, now, there’s no need to be so grumpy,” I say, cheerful. “We’re all here for the same reason, after all. To enjoy some sensual pleasures of the flesh. And wreak some havoc on Lord Verdigris while we’re at it. So shall we begin?”
I get the party started by unlacing my corset. One breast pops into view, then the other. “There now, gent
lemen,” I purr. “Perhaps these will brighten your moods.”
Pembroke and Trenton adopt expressions very similar to hungry wolves who’ve just caught sight of a piece of bloody fresh meat.
“I thought that might make the both of you feel a little better,” I coo. “And now for dessert.” I unlace the rest of my corset, revealing my belly, then my mons.
Now my two lovers are drooling like Pavlov’s dogs. “Come and get it, boys,” I whisper. “And remember, you both need to play nice. And share.”
Pembroke and Trenton both pounce on me, each taking a breast. All their mutual animosity is gone in an instant as their mouths close around my nipples. I throw my head back and relish the feeling of their wet tongues against my areolae, savor the sensation of my nipples hardening against their probing lips. And I know that this is just a sneak preview of the festivities ahead. I feel my pussy get hot and slick in anticipation of what’s to come.
But even as my body goes electric from sensual pleasure, my mind remains focused on the task at hand. I have to find and access the time portal.Whatever I do here with Pembroke and Trenton, it’s just a stepping-stone towards my journey back home to New Jersey.
Or is it? After all, I think I’m in love with Pembroke. How can I just use him as a tool to get home? And what about Trenton? I have feelings for him too—though quite different ones from those I have for Pembroke. These are two very special men who I’ll both miss when and if I ever make it back home to the twenty-first century. How can I consider leaving either of them behind?
But I won’t think about that right now. I can’t. I’m enjoying the pleasure they’re both giving me way too much.
Pembroke moves from my left nipple down to my belly button, flicking his tongue back and forth inside it with a fascinating rhythm. Trenton stays affixed to my right nipple, but the nimble fingers of his left hand stray downward, caressing here, there and everywhere until they come to rest on the soft mound just above my pubes. My body temperature rises, and my juices start to flow.
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