“First, please note that if you purchase a slave this evening, she is required to be collared and cuffed day and night for the entire week. Should it become necessary for reasons of health or safety to release her, you are to see Mr. Llewellyn or Dr. Coates, who has established a dispensary in the chapel withdrawing room. Both gentlemen are in possession of a key that will unlock your slave's shackles.
“Your slave will have been provided with an appropriate wardrobe, which will be delivered to your bedchamber at the conclusion of tonight's auction, along with a case containing various gear and restraints that may prove useful. Her attire, however, is entirely at your discretion. She may wear clothing provided by you, or no clothing at all, as you wish. She must sleep in the chamber assigned to you unless you choose to tie her up outside or keep her in the stable.”
The stable? Caroline glanced at the other slaves to note their reaction to this, only to earn a censorious little smack on the cheek from Mr. Llewellyn's whip. “Eyes forward, Rose.”
“You may leave your slave alone in your chamber only if she is securely locked inside,” Mr. Riddell continued. “When she accompanies you beyond it, she must be under restraints at all times. In general, this means either leading her by the leash or tethering her to a secure object. You are to address her by the name assigned to her, even if you are aware of her real name, and you may not permit her to call you anything but ‘Master.’ May I remind you that a gentleman who habitually fails in these requirements risks having his slave removed from him and re-auctioned to one of the other gentlemen.
“Since the number of gentlemen present exceeds the number of ladies going on the block, some of you will unfortunately not succeed in purchasing a slave, however you are welcome to be our guests at Grotte Cachée for the remainder of Slave Week. Bear in mind that as an Unattached Gentleman, you may not touch a slave unless you request her services from her master. Should he confer such a privilege, he will prescribe the manner in which you may use her. Under no circumstances are you to avail yourself of those services without securing such permission. The same caveat applies to masters who wish to make use of another master's slave. The only exception to this rule is if the slave in question is wearing one of these.”
He held up a heavy gold chain dangling a heart-shaped padlock of black enamel decorated with gilt.“This is a Master's Pendant, commonly known as the Black Heart, which each master is given, along with its key, when he takes possession of his slave. You are to wear it around your neck to signify your status as the owner of a slave. The heart itself may be removed and locked onto your slave's collar should you choose to temporarily offer her as community property. In that case, you are to tether her in a location that is accessible to all, and whoever avails himself of her must leave her where he has found her so that others may enjoy her as well. Your slave must also wear the Black Heart for participation in games or other amusements during which she may be subject to the intimate attentions of gentlemen other than yourself.”
Dear God, Caroline thought. What have I gotten myself into?
“With those caveats understood, you are now at liberty to inspect the slaves at your leisure,” said Riddell, adding, as the men approached the lineup, “You may examine them as you see fit, short of lifting their Inspection gowns or touching them in a painful or penetrative matter. A slave may be disrobed and enjoyed only after she has been purchased, and then only by her master or by a gentleman to whom her master has granted this privilege.”
Caroline's heart felt as if it might hammer right out of her chest as a craggily handsome fellow with an eye patch—Lord Cutbridge, hero of the Battle of Vitoria, no doubt—strode up and dipped his head in greeting. It was a nicety that Caroline would not have expected under the circumstances. He took her by the chin, gently turning her head this way and that as she strove to keep her gaze fixed directly in front of her.
“You have the face of a goddess,” he said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“A gentleman is to be called ‘sir’ when you are given leave to speak to him, never by his actual name and title,” Mr. Llewellyn had instructed. “Except, of course, for the gentleman who buys you. He, you will address as ‘master.’”
Indicating the Compendium in his hand, Cutbridge said, “Is it true, as this book claims, that you take pleasure in the act of love?”
“Er . . . yes, sir.”
As if to test this claim, he stroked a fingertip back and forth along the seam of her sex through her gown, making her breath hitch.
“I do not care to share my bed with a lady who merely endures the act, or who feigns pleasure while thinking only of the money.”He caressed her lightly, deftly, inciting in Caroline a reflexive hum of arousal. “One may as well make love to a piece of furniture. And there are many such women in this world, far too many. I have had my fill of them. When I am inside a woman, I want to feel her writhe and tremble as her pleasure mounts. I want to feel her sex clutch at mine as she spends.”
Heat stung Caroline's cheeks as she felt herself grow damp, knowing he could feel it through the tissue-thin chiffon.
“Lovely,” he said with a smile. He opened his Compendium to the page with ROSE printed across the top in florid lettering, and made a notation she was able to read upside down: Stunning and responsive.
After he left, a dignified, silver-haired man who had been awaiting his turn nearby stepped forward and proceeded to feel Caroline all over with detached thoroughness, as if she were a broodmare he was considering for purchase. He actually opened her mouth to scrutinize her teeth and gums.
He closed his hands over her breasts and squeezed them as if testing their resilience. “You've never been with child?”
“No, sir.”
“And you've been taken just the once?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
On her page, he wrote, A near virgin, should be tight.
As he walked away, she closed her eyes and took in a deep, shaky breath. From her right came a barely audible whisper. “Be Rose.”
Caroline glanced surreptitiously to her right to find Lili winking at her as a bespectacled, scholarly looking fellow stood behind her, kneading her derriere with a thoughtful expression.
More men came and went. They peered at Caroline, fondled her, and questioned her about the most appalling things. Her only consolation lay in the fact that she was not alone. Every slave in the queue was enduring the same humiliating treatment, some with obvious discomfort and others, like Lili, with apparent equanimity.
Even Caroline, despite her embarrassment and apprehension, couldn't help but feel a stirring in her blood as strange hands groped and molded and explored her body. She found it oddly comforting to be manacled and tethered, and therefore utterly helpless to resist these lewd appraisals. It was as if the heavy collar and cuffs absolved her of responsibility for what was being done to her, freeing her to savor the sensations those strange hands provoked in her. At first, she was appalled at herself for taking pleasure in something so unseemly, but as she thought about it, she realized the coming week would be far more palatable if she could banish her reservations and play the role in which she had voluntarily cast herself.
Be Rose . . .
Rose wouldn't fret or doubt herself. She would embrace the experience with a sense of adventure, as Lili did.
More men examined her. They lifted her breasts, plucked at her nipples, slid their hands between the cheeks of her bum and the lips of her sex . . . and then they moved on and did the same to other slaves. One of the few who didn't manhandle her was a dashing, fair-haired fellow in an exquisitely tailored coat and full-length trousers, the latter an unorthodox choice for evening dress. She recognized him from magazine illustrations as the exiled Beau Brummel. He looked her over rather cursorily, complimented her eyes, and continued down the line.
Caroline was surprised to observe that occasionally a slave and a gentleman seemed to have more than a passing acquaintance. Tulip, to her left, was approached at o
ne point by the Chinaman, who spoke to her in his native tongue, softly and with a tone of affection. She responded in the same language, a sultry smile replacing her usual expression of quiet watchfulness. He gave her cheek a tender caress, then took a seat and lit a cigar.
Not long afterward, as “Mr. Boots” knelt before Caroline caressing her slippered feet and murmuring “Lovely, lovely,” a handsome young man came up to Lili and greeted her familiarly. He had a boyish smile and sported a mop of inky ringlets clubbed at the nape. Like Mr. Brummel, he wore the modish trousers in lieu of breeches. Even before Lili called him by name, Caroline knew that he had to be Inigo, of whom the veteran slaves had spoken.
Nodding across the room, Lili told him, “We have company.”
Caroline followed Inigo's gaze to the nearest window. There was a cat she would never have noticed on her own, its fur being nearly the same dusky gray as the deep stone sill on which it sat. Inigo winked at it, and it winked back—or appeared to.
“Have you ever had your cunny licked?”
Mr. Boots was gone, replaced by a big, boxy man who had the aura more of a prizefighter than of a gentleman, despite his fine clothes. In one hand he held the Compendium, opened to her page. The other was curled around the ivory knob of the walking stick poised next to him.
It was the Marquess of Dunhurst.
The Flogster.
He said, “I asked you a question, Rose.”
“I . . . I have not, sir,” she managed, her mouth so suddenly dry that she could barely get the words out.
“Do you play fumble and grope with the boys? Diddle them while they diddle you?”
“N-no, sir.”
“And if I am to believe what is written here,” he said, indicating the booklet in his hand, “both your mouth and your arse are in an unsullied condition.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Not so that little eel-skinner, though.” Lowering his gaze to his Compendium, he read, “ ‘Deflowered two years ago, but not enjoyed since.’” He looked up. “Not a single stab in two years?”
“No, sir.”
Returning to the booklet, he read, “‘A charming innocent unschooled in the arts of love, Rose was brought up in a country village, the youngest child of a churchman.’”
“Yes, sir.”
“I did not ask you a question, Rose.”Dunhurst pinned her with eyes like hard little black buttons. “Were you not trained to keep that pretty little mouth shut unless you were granted permission to speak?”
Caroline's voice snagged in her throat. She swallowed and said, “Yes, sir.”
He made a note in the Compendium: Resistant to training.
“Popular sentiment notwithstanding,” he said, “it has been my experience that the daughters of the clergy are, by and large, of limited virtue and base character. As a young man, I fell prey to a vicar's daughter as faithless and wanton as any Covent Garden whore. It was a painful but enlightening lesson.” Stowing the booklet inside his coat, he said, “Do you toss yourself off ?”
“I . . . I am sorry, sir. I do not know what you mean by that.”
“Do you finger the little ploughman, frig yourself with dil-does . . .”Grasping her nipples through her gown, he rolled and pinched them with strong, rough fingers. “Do you play with these to incite your lust?”
“I . . . I . . . no.”
He glared at her.
“No, sir.” In fact, several times after Aubrey left with his regiment, Caroline had touched herself where he had touched her when they'd made love, trying to relive the precious intimacy of their one night together—but afterward, she was always consumed with shame.
“Curious.” Reading from the Compendium, Dunhurst said, “‘Rose takes great pleasure in the sport of Venus, and climaxes with ease.’ Yet you've only been fucked the once, and I've never yet known a wench to take pleasure in having her maiden-ring torn to shreds. And you claim to have never been gammed or rubbed off, so how can you possibly know that you're orgasmic at all unless you make yourself spend?”
Caroline stared at him, plumbing her mind for a response. In an icy-soft voice, he said, “You are a liar, Rose. Someone should take you in hand.” He twisted her left nipple hard, making her cry out in pain.
“That's enough, Dunhurst.” Viscount Rexton, whom Caroline hadn't even realized was nearby,muscled the Flogster aside and positioned himself in front of Caroline.
“Just a little antepast, old man,” said the marquess. “I realize I can't savor the entire meal till it's bought and paid for.”
Caroline's horror must have shown on her face, because Lili caught Dunhurst's eye with a coy smile and said,“You ought to buy me, Lord Dunhurst. I could do with a strong whip hand. Upon my word, I have the devil of a time being good.”
Dunhurst looked her up and down with a speculative glint in his eye. Caroline thought he would chastise her for speaking out of turn and addressing him by name. “Lili, is it? I shall bear that in mind.”
“Move along,” Rexton told Dunhurst. “You're through inspecting this one.”
Rexton left on Dunhurst's heels, without having spoken to Caroline or even looked her in the eye.
Caroline whispered to Lili, “You didn't have to do that. What if he ends up buying you?”
The beautiful Persian smiled enigmatically. “I have my ways of making naughty boys behave.”
“Pinch your cheeks, Rose,” whispered Mr. Llewellyn in the moonlit courtyard where Caroline, Lili, and Saffron were waiting outside the service door for their turns on the dais. “They're almost done with Tulip. You're next.”
Caroline lifted her trembling hands—still shackled, but unhooked from her collar—to wipe her brow, beaded with sweat despite the cool night air.
Mr. Riddell's resounding voice was clearly audible through the cracked-open door. “I hear seventeen thousand five hundred guineas from Sir Edmund Byrde. Shall we advance to eighteen thousand? Do I have eighteen thousand for this exotic beauty from the mysterious East? She is talented in ways quite unknown to her sisters from the West, and of a yielding disposition. Eighteen?” After a brief pause, he said, “Eighteen thousand is bid by Monsieur Inigo. Shall we have eighteen thousand five hundred? I have eighteen thousand five hundred from Lord Madderly. Do I hear nineteen thousand? Monsieur Inigo bids nineteen thousand guineas. Who will bid nineteen five?”
There came another, longer pause. “It is little enough to pay for this Oriental enchantress.” It was, in fact, more than had been paid for any slave that evening save Elle, who had been auctioned off to Lord Cutbridge for twenty-seven thousand five hundred guineas, a new Slave Week record.“Nineteen thousand. Do I hear nineteen five?”
Several seconds passed. “This is your last opportunity, gentlemen. . . . That's it, then.”A crack rang out as Mr. Riddell's gavel struck the podium. “Sold for nineteen thousand guineas to Monsieur Inigo! Monsieur, you've only to see Lord Rexton to execute the necessary documents, and the bewitching Tulip will be yours.”
“Get ready,”Mr. Llewellyn whispered to Caroline.
“Be Rose, be Rose, be Rose,”Caroline breathed.
Lili kissed her cheek. “Rose is beautiful, and she knows it. She'll love standing on that dais. You'll see.”
“Our next offering,” Mr. Riddell announced, “is an exquisite and sweet-natured creature certain to please the most discriminating taste. Gentlemen, I give you . . . Rose.”
Mr. Llewellyn opened the door and ushered Caroline into the hall with a sweeping gesture of his coach whip. Applause greeted her as she stepped up onto the dais and took her place next to Mr. Riddell's podium.
She turned to face the audience, which was now comprised not just of the two dozen gentlemen, but of the thirteen slaves who had been auctioned off thus far, each with her leash wrapped around the fist of her new master. Some of the slaves were standing, like Elle. Others rested on their haunches, which was the position Mr. Llewellyn had taught them to adopt when their master issued the “sit” command. The other comman
ds were “kneel,” “hands and knees,” “await,” which meant to stand bent over with one's hands braced on the legs, and “kneel down,” which meant to kneel with one's cheek resting on the floor, a posture that Caroline found mortifying. Finally there were the lying-down commands, “supine” and “prone,”which were to be executed with spread legs.
Caroline's hands trembled in their manacles; heat suffused her face. If she'd felt exposed before, she felt doubly so now, standing nearly naked on this stage with so many eyes upon her. She kept her own eyes aimed straight ahead at the empty musicians' gallery across from her, but her field of vision encompassed most of the vast room. On the exterior wall, between two windows, was a tall console table at which Inigo, with Tulip at his side, stood signing papers handed to him by Lord Rexton.
“If you will consult your compendia, gentlemen,” said Mr. Riddell,“you will see that our beguiling Rose has been plucked but once, and so will suit any gentleman who relishes innocence without the onus of taking a maidenhead. She is charmingly naïve, but eminently trainable, and of a complaisant temper. And I need hardly point out that her beauty is second to none. We shall open the bidding for this novice slave at the customary two thousand guineas. Thank you, sir,” he said as Mr. Boots's hand shot up a fraction of a second before the others. Two thousand from Sir Thomas Quirk.”
Please let Mr. Boots buy me, Caroline silently prayed. Please . . .
“Do I hear twenty-five hundred?” Mr. Riddell asked. “Twenty-five hundred is bid by il Conte Montesano. Who will bid three thousand guineas? I have three thousand from the Marquess of Dunhurst.”
No, no, no, not him. Please, God, anyone but him.
“Do I have three thousand five hundred . . . ?”
The auction proceeded swiftly, with nearly all of the dozen or so remaining men participating eagerly. Caroline's heart raced as the purchase price surpassed ten thousand guineas, then fifteen. The field of prospective buyers narrowed more slowly than she would have expected, possibly because only Lili and Saffron remained to be auctioned off after her; if one didn't want to be left without a slave, now was the time to bid.
Bound in Moonlight Page 12