Regency Rogues Omnibus

by Shirl Anders

  Joelle felt as though Hellion were sucking the Marquis into some unmentionable abyss and her emotions flared again, before her sense prevailed. “What bunk! Marquis, are you going to listen to this farce and say nothing?”

  “Silence!” Lord Hellion snapped, flinging his head in her direction.

  “Ouch! Ouc-,” Joelle’s protest came to a halt with a dark palm seriously clamped over her mouth.

  Saxon felt as though he was jerked from some type of dreaming trance as his gaze pulled away from the sway of the prismatic, egg-sized gem on Hellion’s chest, to Joelle’s outcry.

  “Yes, yes,” Hellion said, with his fingers reaching forward to touch Saxon’s hair covering his shoulder. “You will easily be mine, succulent Seducteur.”

  Saxon wondered in alarm if that were true. There seemed to be some quality to Hellion’s voice and the jewel that was altering what should be his natural reaction.

  “Let me see the rest of him,” Hellion said. Saxon kept his gaze on Joelle, whom the attendant still restrained, but the fire in her midnight irises sustained him. “Disrobe, the Seducteur, so I can see the final piece. See the male organ of ascension.”

  Bloody hell, Saxon thought, Joelle was right. Hellion talked like a warped theatrical religious actor. But he also knew that it was imperative to make sense of Hellion’s mélange of meanings. Saxon thought one thing was clear, Hellion wanted to look at his prick. Saxon felt the guard behind him reach forward and fling open the cloak that had been covering him. That cleared his senses. That and keeping his gaze off the jewel. He could not remember a time when his nudity had bothered him as much.

  The sound Hellion made was of instant perverted attraction and Saxon realized at once that Hellion lusted for men as well as women. He should have known it. He probably did deep inside where he had not wanted to look too closely. It was why he remained so docile, wasn’t it? So Hellion would lean toward him and not Joelle. Sometimes he did not understand his inner motivations until too late. It was as if he worked on inner instincts his conscious mind didn’t recognize. It was because of chameleon qualities that spying had forced him to play. Well, really before that.

  Saxon thought he might finally erupt if Hellion touched more than his hair. But Hellion merely gazed at his nakedness, and just those pink licentious eyes on his bare flesh, without touch, had his stomach crimping and his flesh longing for cover. The guard holding his chained upper arms from behind, moved him partially to one side, and then partially to the other side, but Hellion’s gaze stayed on his prick. Saxon wondered that Hellion could not see the tints of virgin’s blood there. However, with only the candles shadowing the room, Saxon supposed that it merely made his male organ look ruddy against his medium-shaded flesh.

  “Any dripping cunt hole would feel like a vise around that cock. Most women would have trouble taking you, I imagine. It is the cock of a God when hardened. The cock of a male seductress.”

  Saxon felt like squirming unreasonably beneath Hellion’s words, and he tripped his gaze away from Joelle in something like embarrassment. He had never been in a position quite like this before as though he were the object of some desire. He thought for an instant that he could nearly catch hold of how an abused woman might feel.

  “Unveil just her tits,” Hellion ordered suddenly. But his gaze stayed on Saxon’s penis.

  Saxon watched Joelle’s struggles, but the guard managed to keep his hand clamped over her mouth and at the same time tug her cloak open and downward just enough to bare her breasts. Saxon’s lean muscles tensed with the need not to react in her defense. He willed it away at the same time he kept his gaze from her breasts.

  “White flesh, young, plump, and with pink rosebud nipples,” Hellion purred.

  Saxon strained not to look, but his options were becoming slim. Do not look at the jewel, do not look at Hellion, do not look at Joelle, and do not feel the stirring in his penis.

  “Look at them, Seducteur, or I will order him to hurt her!” Hellion’s voice was a low bass-toned hiss.

  Saxon looked. They were supple and young, perfectly molded. Both white firm globes had aureoles that were the size of a small coin stamped with powdery pink coloring and darker pink tips thrusting outward. Feminine breasts that looked pristine and untouched by a male hand. Accept, splayed across his chest.

  His penis stirred and he grimaced, trying to will it back. Nonetheless, it lengthened toward those aroused pink nipples like a cad, filling out with a slight curving angle to the left. His bare feet shifted as he cursed inwardly. He had invariably been sensitive about the appearance of his prick when rigid. It did not strut outward like most men, but lengthened heavily downward.

  “The Gods will be pleased with this cock of fertility,” Hellion said with his body swaying. Then, his hand swept upward toward Joelle. “Uncloak her fully. Let me see the virgin cunt.”

  Saxon stiffened with his prick rigid and his mind agonized over what would transpire next. Anything that he did would give away more than he could afford, and he struggled to remain passive.

  Joelle cried her distress at being stripped naked, and then she bit down harshly on the hand offending her lips. The guard made a hissing sound of pain as his hand jerked away from her mouth. At the same moment the guard overreacted, shoving her forward as though to push the pain away. But, the cloak stayed with the guard and Joelle found herself standing naked two steps away.

  If she were really brave, she would have run or attacked Hellion in some way. At least tried, as useless as it might be. Nevertheless, she cowered disgustingly there, with her arm across her naked breasts and one palm cupped between her thighs.

  Joelle wondered with embarrassed panic why it seemed to matter so monumentally to her that she was naked before the Marquis, while other men were there, as opposed to just naked against the Marquis. Which she had been. However, everything flew from her thoughts at Hellion’s outraged shouting. Then, before she even knew it was coming, Hellion had stepped toward her, while swinging his hand to slap her. His palm hit her cheek so hard that she lost her balance and fell to the floor on her side.

  Through the ringing in her ears and the pain slicing her face, her one coherent thought was that Hellion had seen the virgin blood on her thighs.

  “She is tainted! Not a virgin! Nothing but a used whore now! How could this have happened?”

  Before this, Joelle had thought Hellion was acting out some horrible play he had concocted in his twisted mind. But now he really had the voice of an angry God, denied something he richly coveted. Joelle could not keep her naked flesh from cringing as she lolled on her side clutching her battered cheek.

  “I suffer only idiots and fools to worship me!” Hellion thundered. “Take her to the preparation chamber! It is too late to replace her. The cock of God was anointed, and tell Incubus of this debacle!”

  “Why?” Saxon asked suddenly, speaking his first words. “What type of preparations? I must have her alive.”

  “You feel it then?” Hellion gasped with his pink eyes staring at him.

  “Yes.” Saxon worked his mouth with difficulty around further words, while his mind pressed him to trust himself. Yet, it was so insane. “I feel the virgin’s blood scorching the cock of God, but . . .” Saxon looked to the ceiling with his long hair shifting to fall down on his buttocks. “I did not ejaculate into the virgin.”

  Saxon’s body shuddered, as Hellion intoned. “The time has come. It is truly here!” Animated with an insane light in his eyes, Hellion gestured, “Sit, sit, Seducteur. She won’t be harmed. She is yours to prepare. To live or die.” The guard that had been holding Saxon’s arms let them go, stepping back. “Unchain him also,” Hellion ordered.

  Saxon saw Joelle sag and stumble beside the guard holding her upright as he turned her away toward the door. For the first time ever Joelle’s head bowed with her dark red hair curling down to her ivory thighs.

  “Her cloak please. No one should see her just yet,” Saxon requested softly.

 
; “Yes, yes of course,” Hellion responded. “Keep her covered,” he ordered, to the two guards now taking Joelle away.

  Saxon stayed in place, with his arms still behind his back, although they had unchained him, while the guards and Joelle left the room. Then, with the wincing of blood rushing where the chains had restricted it, he let his arm fall to his side. He flexed his right hand as he slowly moved to sit, keeping his left, handless arm behind his back.

  “It bothers you that much that she should see your stump?” Hellion asked softly.

  Saxon sat, nude upon the velvet-embroidered seat of a high-backed chair. He tilted his head back, slowly closing his eyes. “Yes,” he said.

  Chapter Nine

  Joelle sat in a chair clutching the cloak around her. She had tried the door, the barred window, and even the fireplace for any means of escape from the room they had locked her into after leaving Hellion and the Marquis. The room was small and dark. There were two chairs facing the cold fireplace with the only light coming from an oil lantern wall sconce. There was a small tapestry rug beneath the chairs covering the whitewashed stone floor beneath. The room exuded a musty odor with only the tinge of oil from the lantern in the air. It was very cold in the room as she curled her bare feet up on the chair beneath her and under the cloak. Her injured cheek throbbed and she was certain that if she could view it, a bruise would be forming there.

  Joelle touched the puffiness and laceration on her cheek, wincing lightly as she worried about the Marquis, while wishing that she knew his name. “It is a silly thing to want to know now,” she chided herself. “And better not to think of becoming attached to him in anyway. Not now with everything going on.” But she already was attached, wasn’t she? How could she not be, when they had felt each other so intimately? And he was the only ally she had in this horrible nightmare.

  The Marquis seemed to understand more of what was happening, while she struggled and railed against their assailants, he listened, ingested information, and then melded himself to control their reactions. Furthermore, while she was fighting and crying, he concentrated on discerning the twisted meaning of Hellion’s ranting. If anyone could understand the zealot madman’s rambling, the Marquis seemed to with his quiet and solemn ways.

  Joelle tried to quiet her tumbling mind. She tried to think slower and more thoroughly. The Marquis had protected her. “No. Do not think that. Think of what Hellion said,” she muttered. Yet, it was hard not to think of the Marquis and the feelings she felt toward him.

  Forcing herself, she thought of the, “cock of God.” It seemed nearly as though Hellion coveted it as a separate entity and that she with her virgin’s blood was to have consecrated it in some vulgar ceremony. What then? Would Hellion want to have sex with the cock of God as his followers watched? Joelle knew that men having sex with men existed, but it all seemed so bizarre. Hellion saying, “The last piece,” kept sticking in her mind. The Marquis had saved her, but it seemed that he was in worse physical danger than she was.

  Suddenly the door opened and Joelle tensed, turning her head to look. The room was so dark that she could not make out who it was until he was nearly upon her. It was Hellion and he stopped next to her chair, holding out a small silver wine chalice.

  “Drink this if you want to see, Seducteur, again,” Hellion said.

  The fact that Hellion knew her thoughts and desires so well frightened Joelle more than reaching out with a trembling hand and drinking the liquid. It was dark red wine with a bitter aftertaste that slid harshly down her throat.

  What happened next, Joelle always wondered if it took minutes or hours. Hellion began to talk to her, his voice never stopping with slow methodical deep tones. His fingers caressed the back of her hair, not really touching, but brushing just lightly enough so that she could feel it. At first she fought against his words. They were harsh of meaning to begin with, while he spoke in his melodious deep tones.

  “You are lonely. All alone now. No family to embrace you.” Joelle bit her bottom lip. “You must dream of children to bear and cuddle to your breasts. The smiles on your husband’s face.” Joelle thought she should try to argue with him. Tell him he knew nothing, as the words continued on. “There is no one for you to tell your small tales to each day. To greet you in the morning. To touch you or to hear your voice.” But Hellion’s words and his inflection brought small tears to her eyes.

  “You must miss your mother terribly. Wouldn’t you love to tell her of your worries of growing old alone, of sitting alone in a dark cold burrow with no one around you? What would you give for the feel of your mother’s arms around you?” Joelle moaned once with tears burning as she tried to speak out against Hellion’s words.

  But her mouth seemed made of putty and only mumbled words came out. “N-Not true.”

  “Ah, but it is true, sweet, sweet Joelle,” Hellion murmured, and then Joelle felt his fingers massaging both sides of her temple. She wondered how and when she had tilted her head back. “The Marquis is so warm. Those deep brown eyes.”

  When had the subject changed, Joelle wondered, thinking of the Marquis? He was so warm and alive. “What would you give for his embrace and his warmth to chase your loneliness away?”

  “A-Anything,” Joelle muttered, and she wondered where her thoughts came from to find a voice that she barely felt connected to.

  “Look into the jewel, Joelle. Never stop looking.”

  When had Hellion moved? Why was the jewel swaying?

  “Close your eyes and listen to my voice, sweet Joelle. Nothing but my voice.”

  But he was evil, Joelle thought, right before her eyelids fell shut.

  “You will listen to my commands above anyone else. Tell me that you understand.”

  “Yes,” Joelle whispered.

  “You want to touch, Seducteur. To cleanse his body for the ceremony. And, I will let you do that. I want you to do that. Ask me, Joelle. Ask me for permission.”

  “Please, may I?”

  “You may. And, you want, Seducteur’s, hand on your body washing you, preparing you for the ceremony. You will listen to his voice alone, until you next hear mine. You want to serve him. But you want to serve me more.”

  “Yes,” Joelle breathed.

  “When you hear this bell ring once, you will do whatever my voice tells you too. When you hear this bell ring twice, your only desire is to serve and touch, Seducteur. When you hear the bell ring three times, you are to awaken and remember what you have done from the last time you heard the bell.

  “Yes,” Joelle whispered.

  “This time, Joelle, you will awaken when I count to three. When you hear me arrive at three, you will open your eyes and you will be as you were and remember nothing. One, two . . . three.”

  Chapter Ten

  When Joelle next saw him, she murmured with longing, seeing the beauty of him as nude as she was. The room was warm, draped with soft tapestries and candlelight. Steam rose in tendrils from a large sunken bath, weaving through the sparkles of the candle flames. There were velvet screens placed around the edges of the room and a padded table in the center. The red, gold’s, and blues in the room twirled through her irises, but her gaze was only for him.

  They stood facing each other from either side of the room, ten steps apart. He had entered from one door and she had entered from another. She wanted to rush to him, to embrace him, even as she worried about the cloak that the guard had taken and left on the other side of the closed door. The cloak with the key hidden in its folds.

  Foolishly, she stood with her hands cupping the dark-red tufted mound between her thighs, while her black-cherry colored hair covered her bare breasts. Somehow, she felt the need to do something important and it urged her, unnamed into trembling frustration. But then, suddenly she remembered. “Your name,” she gasped. “Please!”

  “Saxon,” he murmured as he stood oddly with one arm bent behind his back. And then, at the same moment his name finally caressed her hearing, a small bell rang twice from
within the room.

  And then, the man called Saxon said, “My name is Seducteur.”

  Immediately, Joelle ardently ran to him. Knowing only joy and desire with his name a blessing on her lips, and in the back of her mind she barely wondered how the bell could have rung so closely in the room. He caught her embrace against his warm flesh. Neither of them seeming to wonder why there was no hesitation.

  “Ardente,” he breathed, scooping her dark red hair back on one side, bracing her spine with his arm caressing the indent there as her mound cuddled over his lax male organ. Her nipples brushed the light sandy hair on his sinewy chest as her arms curled over his shoulders and her head tilted upward to look at him. His eyes lured her into their warm and mysterious mahogany depths.

  “Let me wash you, touch you. I never want to stop,” she breathed.

  “Nor I you,” his full sensuous lips murmured.

  They turned as one toward the steamy sunken bath, rich brown hair curling around deep red hair as they walked side by side to the steps. Joelle could not seem to stop touching Seducteur as they stepped down into the hot water together. Her hands stroked his back, and then lower to his tightly curved buttocks, until they turned to face each other in the water, with it lapping about her waist and his groin. The long ends of their hair flowed in the water beside and behind them as her hands continued their search, caressing his chest, his sides, and his lean belly.

  “Your hands are like warm honey on me,” he murmured.

  “I never want to stop touching you.” She yearned with uncontrolled force in her soul.

  Joelle scooped water up into her palms and began cleansing Seducteur’s handsome and lean muscular body. Some part of her knew that she’d never done this with a man before, yet her craving swept the thoughts away. Seducteur used his hand to lift the hair off her back, scooping it over her shoulder. Then, he cupped water in his palm also and drizzled it down her spine as she cleansed his chest with wet sliding strokes.