Silver Silk Ties

by Raven McAllan

  "Come then. Though you will go straight to the office and I will dispatch someone to see if Willingham is here."

  "You still do not understand, do you? This is my property. I have every intention of inspecting wherever I see fit."

  "Araminta, you…" He hesitated. How to tell her many members came in anonymous and remained so? "What happens within these walls, stays there. We have members who do not wish their identities divulged. I cannot let you jeopardize that. So we will go to my office."

  She pounced on the possessive pronoun. "So you now admit you are the owner?"

  He kissed her nose and ignored her startled jerk. "Minx, you have the contracts, you know it is so. How though do I not see your name there?"

  "Silk Enterprises, my lord." Now why hadn't he realized? Felton was silent as he gathered his thoughts. Under the terms of the lease, they had to allow the owner immediate access at any time or forfeit the lease.

  "Then of course you must come in." He ignored the snort of disbelief from Leyton, and the muttered, "Well that will set the cat in it, won't it just."

  "I have one demand." He deliberately did not say request, and watched the pulse point in her neck move faster than it would if she was calm.

  "You have? Will I like it?" Her voice was honey laced with something indefinable, and he smelled her arousal. It increased his to discomfort levels. Dare he? Felton gave himself a mental shake. He had nothing to lose. They were as of—he did a mental calculation —wed these past fifteen hours. She had promised to obey. He had not thought it would be like this.

  He kept his voice low so not to be overheard. "We will soon find out. I believe we may have more in common than I believed it could be possible. Be that as it may, this is a demand not just for me, although 'twil arouse me to an uncomfortable degree. I have to blindfold you. The lease does not state you have to be sighted to enter. Please, my dear, you must see I have to."

  Ara gurgled and her eyes lit up in the lamplight. "That, my lord, I will not be able to do. See, as I will have my eyes covered. But fear not, I accept it is necessary, until it is obvious I will see no one I recognize, or they I. It benefits all of us."

  Felton was elated. One hurdle covered. "Turn and face the wall, Araminta."

  ****

  He didn't even notice he had injected a tone of command in his voice, Ara thought with an inward smile as she nibbled her bottom lip. She had immediately, and her body responded accordingly. Her skin felt too tight, and prickled with awareness. His scent, that earthy, musky smell of aroused male filled her. She would obey. It had been too long since a man she yearned for had spoken to her thus. Despite that, she had no intentions of making it easy for him. Why she had the need to push him out of his easy center and make him off kilter she didn't analyze. Possibly because she could not find hers? Ara lowered her eyes in case he saw the devilment she was certain showed in them. Her late husband had often said she had no guiles and was unable to hide her emotions. Well, George, you should see how I have changed this last twelvemonth or so.

  "Yes, my lord." She spoke the words in a different manner to her usual mode of addressing him, and turned her back to study the wall.

  "It is a very nice wall is it not? A superior stone. Well treated. It should last for centuries." His chuckle fanned the nape of her neck. The sound and the cool breeze he created on her neck made her shake. He noticed.

  "Cold or awareness, my dear? A mixture of both do you think?" He bit her neck, a small nip that contracted her quim. "Why did I not see this side of you?"

  "Perchance you chose not to bother," she said, her words running into each other in her haste to be heard. "You saw a widow, not in the first flush of youth, still of child bearing age and one not likely to trouble you or your chosen life style." All the bitterness of the past flew months tumbled out. "You didn't look past that. Well, why should you?" She knew she sounded bitter. She was. "Did it never occur to you just why I accepted your offer? I had no need to. I was wealthy in my own right, welcome in all the best establishments, and led a fulfilling life. I had no need of a husband. Especially one who declared he would not bother me except in the necessity of an heir. Not a pleasant picture to me. But still, I agreed."

  He said nothing. Ara studied the indentations in the stones and then closed her eyes in despair. What had she done? But my words had to be spoken. The soft cloth placed over her eyes came as a surprise. For a brief moment, she had forgotten why she was standing as she was.

  "Can you see?" His tone was even. If he was annoyed by her impassioned outburst, he wasn't showing it.

  "Araminta? If your errand is as urgent as you say, we have no time to loose. Answer me."

  What will he do if I do not? Will he chastise me here and now? Dare I risk that when I am on a mission? She knew she could not. Already too much time had been wasted.

  "I can see nothing, my lord." Still she said those words in a way to show subservience.

  "Good girl." Her rump was patted, Ara assumed by him. As if I am a horse, she thought indignantly.

  "I am putting a plain cloak around you, in case your pelisse is recognizable," he said, giving her an explanation for his actions. "As it is, it will be thought I am at last breaking my rules. When our nuptials are announced 'twil be the gossip of the town. Can you handle that?"

  "Why not? I have handled worse. Marrying George was neither expected nor liked. I was too old, too outspoken, too everything. If it is thought my husband has to take a subservient because I cannot hold him, why should I care? As long as it is not true." She held her breath. This was it. She had laid her cards on the table. Apart from telling him chapter and verse, she could say no more.

  A heavy weight of cloth covered her, and she gasped as he pulled the hood over her hair. Now, at the most all anyone would see of her was her chin.

  He leaned into her and, for a brief moment, the contours of his body were hard up against her. His cock, rigid and long pulsed briefly against her crack before he moved away. To her amazement, she felt deserted.

  "I think it could be true. That I have taken a subservient. Not because my wife cannot hold me. Because I want to hold her."

  Chapter Three

  Those simple words were her undoing. She sagged and would have fallen if he had not held her. Was she once more to experience those sublime feelings she had thought lost to her?

  "Then, my lord, I can but pray it will come to pass. And now Jeremy?"

  His sigh reverberated through her as his body moved and brushed close. "Ah yes, Willingham. Let me escort you. This will be your first act of total trust, Araminta. I am about to lift you over my shoulder. I guarantee I will make sure you are decorous and covered. Not for us the baring of you for all to see. What is mine is ours and nothing more. Do you agree?"

  "Oh, yes, my lord." With her sincere reply, a lot of her worries rolled away. She may want to be his and do as he wanted. Nevertheless, Ara knew she was no exhibitionist. Submit in private was something she would do willingly. In spite of her worries about her brother, the thought of what she may experience sent her pulse spiraling and her juices running.

  Her world spun as, with one swift movement, he lifted her and swung her over his shoulder. Her skin tingled and her insides turned to molten lava as he caressed her arse with slow sensual strokes. Her head bobbed with each step he took.

  I hope this does not take too long, or I may share my luncheon with his back. Afterwards I must tell him not to call me by my given name. It hurts me so.

  "Araminta, take heed I am climbing."

  She had to speak. She could not ignore her hated name any longer. "My lord, I beg of you, desist in that name. I am Ara, not my given name. Araminta is not me. It is my childish persona and causes me to think of things best forgotten. I do not wish to be reminded of that sad person." She swallowed rapidly to try to dispel the queasiness that was about to engulf her. "I need to say, I fear whatever you have planned will not occur unless you cease spinning me. I am ready to be ill. Very, very ill."
She could see stars. And a large hole to swallow her.

  His bark of astonished laughter should have reassured her. Instead, it made Ara angry. So angry her sickness abated and she wanted no more than to give him a piece of her mind. He was a moron. A male gonad-thinking moron! For once she thanked her book reading. An epistle on male organs and the male mind had her laughing and agreeing. Men thought with their cocks!

  To her pleasure, the spinning stopped as he opened a door, closed it, and her feet touched the ground with a gentle insistent pressure. Ara swayed as he removed the cloth from her eyes, and the room spun. Shards of light hit her un-blinkered eyes and she closed them again in a hurry. Felton guided her to a comfortable day bed and helped her sit. Cautiously, she opened her eyes a little and was relieved to find the room stable and the light now soft and comforting.

  "I will arrange for water, and refreshments for you," he said quietly. "And see if Jeremy is here." He turned to the door, and spoke to someone outside. His voice was low, and strain as she might, she could not decipher his words.

  Ara stared at his back. It was a mighty fine back, but she was in no mood to either admit to her thoughts, or admire it. "Felton," she said earnestly. "I know he is here. Every Tuesday and Friday without fail. And to my chagrin, I admit I have had him followed. He is here. And he needs to be at father's deathbed. I—" Her voice broke. "I am nothing to our father. I defied him to marry George. Therefore, I do not signify. But Jeremy? He must appear. Why should he be denied his heritage, just because he had not yet met his mate? 'Tis not fair."

  "Life rarely is." Felton closed the door and turned to her. He spoke in a somber voice. "I agree with you. We must find your brother. I have set the wheels in motion. Do you trust me to discharge this task?"

  What? He is asking?

  "Why?" she asked curious to his motive. "Why ask not inform me? You have never asked anything of me before."

  "I asked for your hand in marriage," Felton pointed out.

  "And told me you would not bother me except to begat an heir," Ara said, stung he considered it comparable. "You walked into my life, told me you wanted me and George had given you his blessing before he passed away. Proceeded to map out a life so lacking of involvement, 'tis a wonder I agreed."

  "Why did you?" he asked. He sounded, she thought, annoyed, yet truly interested.

  "To that, I still wonder," Ara said. "However, now is not the time to talk of such things." She had received a missive from her late husband detailing his requests and reasons why she should at least listen to Felton. Even though he had long gone, she took George’s plea seriously. "Yes, I will trust you. For myself I care not if my father rots in hell, which if there is any justice in this world, he will do. But Jeremy is another matter. Why should he be vilified for his choice of lifestyle?"

  "A lifestyle, which, if proven, is punishable by death," Felton said in an even voice. A complicated series of knocks sounded hollow on the door. The tattoo caused Felton to raise one eyebrow, but he did not explain. Damn him. I am taut with anxiety and he chooses to ignore it? In spite of that, she chose not to comment. Some things were better left unaddressed.

  "Pah, if proven. Are you saying that anyone here would report a fellow member? Surely everything that happens under this roof could, if one chose, to be called perverted? No, Father cannot accept anyone who does not want to follow his diktat. And of course my cousin Stanley has fanned the flames and encouraged Father in his beliefs that Jeremy is not a fit and worthy heir. Luckily, the entail is sewn up tightly, but the rest?" She shrugged. All of a sudden panic filled her. "Please, we must get him to go. Kidnap him if necessary."

  Felton laughed. "There is no need. He is being escorted to your father's side as we speak. The knocks," he said, and then expanded his explanation "They told me so. I have left instructions not to be disturbed except by that confirmation. No one will bother us here. I have arranged for Leyton to go with him. And now you know your brother is on his way, we can talk."

  Ara was curious. "He went willingly?"

  Felton smiled. His eyes crinkled. Her pulse raced. The look smoldering in them was enough to make her legs go weak. If he had at that moment demanded anything of her, she would have given it willingly.

  Oh, sweet Lord, I want him. I want to be with him as a woman should, and acquiesce to every demand. Pray it happens soon.

  Felton was still speaking.

  "Not exactly. I believe some persuasion was necessary. Something along the lines of it would hurt you if he did not attend. I believe his answer was, ‘Well at least if I can see the bastard die, we will know he is no longer around to haunt us.’"

  The relief that coursed through her was immeasurable. Ara felt lightheaded and her eyes were moist. She brushed the tears away. "Thank you. I am forever in your debt."

  "Ah, Ara, no. I feel I am in yours. I seem to have been laboring under a misapprehension. We need to talk." His look sent shivers down her spine and moisture to coat her thighs. She was not sure if it promised retribution or compassion. Whichever, it affected her equilibrium like nothing else had.

  The tingle in her spine vied with the thumping of her heart to increase her awareness of him. His essence filled her. It was that indefinable smell of masterful, dominant male. That scent had first drawn her to him.

  After coming out of mourning, Ara had no problems in leading a quiet life. A deathbed promise to her husband had made it impossible. George had made her swear not to retire to the country before she had a twelvemonth in the ton. To live, as he put it, the sort of life the ton followed. This, he reasoned, would give her the chance to see what lifestyle she wished to follow. At the end of the twelvemonth, Felton had approached her, and her solicitor had handed her George's letter.

  Ara had not thought for one moment it would mean another marriage. To one she thought would let her enjoy the lifestyle she craved. For him to treat her like spun glass, shun her very improper advances as if he had not seen them, was bad enough. For him then to propose their marriage and leave her on their wedding night was beyond all comprehension.

  She knew him to be dominant. George had told her so frankly, and pressurized her to encourage him when she was so able. She had and for what? To be ignored. Well no longer.

  "Felton, why did you offer for me?" she asked. His face tightened, and she shivered. He was not used to being questioned.

  That look, why am I dampening my quim in anticipation not fear? It excites me. Dare I say?

  She had no time to decide.

  "Damn, I promised you water." Felton walked to the sideboard next to the draped window. On it was several decanters and glasses that glittered in the flames from the fire, shards of light sending rainbows around the room. He looked at each in turn and shook his head. "There is none. I will ring for some now. My apologies."

  "I would rather have brandy," Ara said. She may as well be frank. She had nothing to lose. "And have you answer my question." His look was long and measured as he took a goblet and poured a generous amount of amber liquid into it. He swirled it around and she watched as drops stuck to the glass before they slid slowly down the sides to join the rest. It was as sensuous as the drops of cum sliding from an aroused cock. Warm, wet and satisfying, they hinted of the promise of delights to come. Her mouth was dry, and she swallowed as she remembered the salty taste she’d tasted and relished with her late husband.

  The silence in the room was unnerving. Her skin crawled and her pulse raced like a horse on the downs. He turned and looked down at her.

  "Assume the position, Ara."

  It was not a conscious decision. Ara stood up and walked to where he waited one hand on the top of the sideboard the other on his hip.

  She knelt, gracefully, and bent her head. Her hair escaped its pins and fell forward to hide her face as she folded her arms behind her back. Ara's heart was in her mouth and she needed the brandy. For all that, true to his unspoken command, she remained silent.

  ****

  Relieved, Felton let
his breath out in a rush. In truth, he had not dared to hope Ara would know what he was talking about, let alone obey. Whatever her husband had said, and his words had been ambiguous, he had scarce hoped she would understand his life preferences. Indeed, he had been prepared to do his spousal duties and no more. He had uttered the words on a whim, and, therefore, to see her waiting in her subservient pose, it was predictable that his body responded so. His cock hardened to such a degree he dare not see how it strained his pantaloons. He was conscious his control was on a knife-edge, and he wanted nothing more than to demonstrate his dominance. Still, he held back. How much did she know? Indeed to what degree would she comply?

  There is only one way to find out. Take courage and take charge.

  "You have a safe word?" That, he felt, would determine something.

  "I did, my lord." Again, she invested the title with more than lip service to his place in the peerage.

  "And it was?" He sensed her hesitation. Was that an insensitive question? Conceivably so. "Choose a safe word for us, Ara."

  "Satis."

  He laughed. He knew his Latin. "Enough, 'tis good. Satis it shall be. You know the rules for using it?"

  "Yes, my lord. I only use it if I am sure I have had enough. If I use it, that particular activity ceases never to be experienced again."

  "Almost, Ara. We will return to the subject. Discuss it and see if we can work through your negativity. Remember though, if you say satis, I will stop at once. Therefore, now, my lady, please stand."

  To his great delight, Ara obeyed instantly. She stood graceful and elegant, her eyes downcast. Felton put his hand under her chin and levered her face upwards.

  "Look at me," he said.

  Her eyes opened wide and she stared at him, not in a defiant way he realized. Aroused and inquisitive, her face was an open book, her emotions on display for him to see. It had not always been thus.

  "If I say to you kneel, take my cock into your mouth, and milk me until I spill my seed. Command you drink me dry then touch yourself until you tremble and cry out your release as I watch. What say you?"