Maybe that was her fault…
With the den door open, the surprised Lydia had skirted right past Meri and up the stairs. When Alain appeared, she was already on her feet. Her emotions had changed as she listened to the frightening sounds of Lydia’s caning. Every thwack she heard clear as a bell. For every one she shivered. Her being longed for the same, but even more were the questions that demanded answers.
“Alain, please,” she started to cry. She fell into his arms seeking relief from her last few minutes of torture. For the second time that night he held her close and stroked her soothingly, affection and feelings of relief flooding through them both. But just as it had been when Robbie brought her to the house, the embrace ended quickly.
She was still shaken by what had happened with Hugo and being safe in Alain’s arms only seemed to break the dam of her emotions. But right now, she needed something more than kisses and easy platitudes of love.
“What just happened, Alain?” she asked, when she finally pulled away. “And please, don’t beat around the bush with me. I want to know the truth.”
“The truth was, Lydia Morrow was taking money from her ex-boyfriend in exchange for getting him close to you. From the very outset, this was the plan, although I honestly don’t believe that Lydia understood exactly what was at stake. The point was to rattle me. To make me see how far they reached. They wanted me to back off an investigation that has been ongoing for months. The same investigation that spoiled our honeymoon.”
“Ohmygod!” she gasped. “I had no idea! I can’t believe Lydia would do anything like that. She wouldn’t. I know she wouldn’t.”
“She had no idea the scheme she was involved with, no idea how dangerous it was for you or me or even herself. And it’s still not over. Hugo and the other men that were abusing you, they managed to flee before we could get to them. When I had you two followed—”
“You had us followed?”
“As soon as Jimmy Peralta’s name surfaced, yes. They are all out there still…not a thing has changed. We didn’t have enough backup, just enough to scare them off and get you and Lydia out safely.” He sighed heavily. “Is that enough of an explanation?”
“Yes, I guess,” she replied, haltingly, “I suppose it has to be… I just can’t…” She closed her eyes trying to calm herself, but she just wasn’t calm. She was fidgeting, her nerves on edge. Every cell in her body shook with fear, all welling up from a dark place where the monsters in her mind worked freely.
They both understood exactly what would happen next.
“It’s either here,” meaning the den, “or in the dungeon,” Alain finally said.
If Lydia was chagrinned by the events of that night, Meri was twice as humiliated and twice as needy. Her body ached to be free from the pent-up emotion of the aborted scene with Hugo. She needed a physical release and she needed absolution.
In the bedrock of the house was the basement, and in one corner a wine cellar, in another a place where Alain punished his wife when he wanted to be especially brutal – or the effect of the cellar heightened the drama of the scene. The thick, mortared rocks that made up the walls in that corner were especially rough and dungeon-like. However, there was none of the accoutrements in the space normally associated with the S&M dungeons Meri knew.
When he gave her his orders, she was more than willing to comply. She was in the cellar quickly, her clothes stripped away.
Meri shivered waiting for Alain to appear. She did not have to wait long – just long enough for the chill inside this subterranean lair to seep inside her body.
He strung her up to a hook that dangled from the ceiling, then he began to punish her in much the same way Hugo and the boys had punished her in the office.
Unlike that incident, however, Meri let go. She didn’t have the grit, the fortitude of Lydia who could submerge her feelings and hold on to the bitter end before letting her emotions speak. Meri cried from the outset, almost sobbing, even as the hot erotic fire between her legs – which she’d squelched in the company of those brutes – flowed freely now. Finally, it had a safe place to vent without shame.
“Ohmygod!” she threw her head back in rapture, her screams, her spasming belly climaxing even as Alain continued to whip her, going over the same hurting territory that the other men had covered. She counted every strike as an act of love, even though she knew that it wasn’t love that was foremost in his thoughts.
Alain’s motives were hardly pure. He’d been hurt, pissed off and humbled that night. He’d seen his wife suffer because he could not protect her. He’d seen her act foolishly, perhaps, but then he had not apprised her of the possible danger. And, in his mind, that was his fault.
So, he made her suffer now? Was that reasonable? In their world, this twisted logic worked.
Again and again the spasms took her body places she needed to go. She thrashed about, uncontrollably, until finally Alain was on her, lifting her body into his arms and pressing his cock into her pussy. Meri shuddered again as that velvety space between her thighs closed around his heated organ.
Their hard climax stunned them, and for a long while they remained fused together as the spasms in their bodies continued on, then finally died away.
After releasing Meri’s arms, Alain led her to a cot where they slumped down, too tired to stand up any longer. It was a convenient place to rest, one Meri remembered well, although that memory was not particularly pleasant. One night months before, when she’d been especially naughty, he made her sleep there all night long as punishment, a fate almost as nasty as being sent to the hated closet.
This night was different. While Alain sat on the edge of the cot, Meri sank to his feet and buried her head on his knees. She was still gasping for breath, still feeling the shocking spasms in her body explode like small fireworks.
“Can we sleep upstairs, sir, please?” Meri finally asked, her voice almost pleading, as if he’d deny her this much.
“Yes, we’re going to sleep upstairs in our own bed.”
“And in the morning, this whole, awful night will have only been a bad dream?”
“I wish that were true, Meri. I wish that were true.”
Chapter Twelve
Gotham Manor
Meri was eating breakfast in the sunroom, feeling much revived, although the aura of the previous night still seemed to be hanging heavily over the household. Lydia was up and gone before Meri had pulled herself from bed. She didn’t even say goodbye. It was up to Alain to tell his wife that she had been escorted to her friend Sarah’s.
“Maybe she should have just left town,” Meri wondered aloud as she stared up at her husband, who’d just leaned down to kiss her.
“She can’t leave the area just yet. She’s a material witness. She’ll be questioned again about her connections to Jimmy Peralta and his connections to Hugo. The DA will go over her deposition…”
“Go over her deposition? Is she being charged?” Meri had been sipping her morning coffee, then poured a cup for Alain when he sat down.
“That’s up to him, but probably not.” He started in on his bacon and eggs. “I imagine that she knows enough as a witness to keep her out of jail. Although what she put you through, I’m surprised that you’re so concerned for her.”
“I guess I never think ill of people.”
He laughed. “You certainly didn’t have anything good to say about Ella.”
“She was different,” Meri said, grimly. “Lydia and I have been through a lot together. I knew things weren’t good the moment I saw her at the restaurant. I just had no idea it would be anything like this. But there I go again, naïve little me, thinking that my friends will never hurt me. I mean that creepy Hugo…” she winced for about the hundredth time.
“If it will make you feel any better, Lydia was in way over her head. She may talk tough, but she was as gullible as you might have been, when it came to Hugo and his schemes.”
Meri sighed, her thoughts moving away from the scene of the night before. S
he stared at her husband; he was already dressed in a crisp white shirt, tie neatly tied, ready for work.
“You have to go into work so soon? I was hoping we might have a few hours to ourselves. I really need that…”
“Actually, we’ll have more than a few hours together, you’ll have me for the next twenty-four hours whether you like it or not.” He went on eating while Meri looked aghast.
“I will! Really?” In her excitement the vague uneasiness left by the previous night seemed to have finally disappeared.
“We’re going for a long ride in the country…all the way to the coast?”
“You mean that?”
“A friend of mine has this amazing Gothic house you’re going to love. Old books, fine art, nooks and crannies, beautiful gardens. You can even bring a few small canvases and some paint if you like.”
“It sounds wonderful,” she said cautiously. “But will I have time to paint? We’ll probably be there just a few hours before we’ll have to come home.”
“No, you will have plenty of time to paint. You’ll be staying with Lawrence Underhill for a few weeks, until this business here is finally resolved.”
The blood instantly drained from Meri’s face.
“A few weeks! Alain, no!” Signs of her coming unglued rose like big red flags.
“Don’t, Meri,” he had that warning tone. “I need you away. I need you safe. And I need to get this investigation over. You will put a smile on your face, behave yourself and make the best of it. The time will go by faster than you think.”
If she hadn’t had such an amazing night of hard and nasty sex, she might have argued more, but her course seemed inevitable. Instinct told her this was the safest thing that she could do. She only had to remember Hugo’s snarling face and any protest seemed absurd.
“Damn, I don’t like this!” she said with a scowl. “But…I will be good. I promise.”
“Thank you. That’s what I like to hear. Besides, Lawrence Underhill didn’t buy an old Gothic house just because he wanted to hang out with ghosts.”
She thought on this a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Oh, I see. Let me guess… he’s one of your old lifestyle friends and he has a long line of humble sex slaves at his beck and call?”
Alain snickered. “Just one right now, I think. And a trainee.”
“What I’d give to know all the dirty secrets in your past,” she mused.
“I thought you didn’t want to know.”
“Well, sometimes, I’d kind of like to just peek—” she immediately changed her mind, “No, no. I’m better off not knowing. I can’t change what’s already happened, can I?”
Alain just smiled.
***
Meri hated the house at first sight. This was some builder’s dream house, set on a point that jutted into the Atlantic, on most days nearly surrounded by water, and connected to the mainland by an old concrete bridge. For Meri the Gothic mansion was too much of everything to be called fashionable, or elegant, or even eccentric. Too many arches, too many turrets and creepy gargoyles, too much tapestry inside, dark angles and grey walls. The moldy smell of cold stone was everywhere. She supposed for a house to epitomize an era of masters and slaves it would have all these dreary features. But the somber mood on this overcast spring day just seemed to bring her spirits down, especially when she hoped to enjoy the adventure with her husband. All she could think of was his leaving her to this nasty house for an undetermined amount of time.
The one bright spot on her first cursory tour of the property was the cheery garden where she planned to spend a good deal of her time. She made this decision in her first half hour at Gotham Manor. (No, that was not actually its name, but it might as well have been.) While the house itself seemed dreadful, even on this dreary day, she could see that spring had emerged from the cold ground. The garden was blooming with tulips and columbine, the daffodils already past their prime, the peonies starting to form their tight round buds. Sadly, this seemed like the only thing to cheer her up as she got her first glimpses of her temporary home.
When they arrived, a pretty housekeeper had answered the door, greeting them with a cheery hello. Her appearance was rather formal for the middle of the day: a long dark dress, under which she was obviously wearing a boned corset that made her posture straight and elegant in an Old World sense. Old World too was the way her brown hair was pulled away from her bright face into a bun behind her head. She was at odds with a typical 21st century female of her age, which Meri guessed was about twenty-eight. But her attire, along with her respectful and submissive attitude seemed to compliment the old house.
“Good morning, Priscilla,” Alain had addressed her. He’d obviously met her before.
She curtsied politely and smiled. “Sir has asked me to let you in. He has some important business to attend to. He said to make yourselves at home. There’s a fire in the library, or maybe you’d like to give your wife a quick tour?”
“Yes, I think we’ll do that,” Alain agreed. “We’ve been driving for several hours and we could use the walk.
Thus, while they waited for Mr. Underhill to finish his business, Alain had given Meri a basic tour of the house and garden. She saw all the main rooms, including the library, the dining room and kitchen. Then as they walked through the upper gardens, and Meri was momentarily buoyed by what she saw there, it started to rain. They moved back inside just in time to see their host coming down the impressive hand-carved stairway and into the foyer.
“So nice to see you, Alain. Sorry about the circumstances.” He moved forward almost eagerly and shook his hand.
Lawrence Underhill was a stunning man, and not what Meri had expected. Alain had told her that he was nearly seventy, but one would have hardly guessed that fact, given his robust vitality and a general ability to amuse and entertain. He had the large girth of a man who enjoys his food, and a broad smile behind a full and very greying beard. And charm, it exuded naturally from what Meri was to discover was a very ‘big’ personality. She instantly took a liking to Lawrence Underhill.
“We’ll hope that it won’t be for long,” Alain said.
“Of course not. I’d rather have you here too. But,” and Lawrence turned to Meri, “I think I can keep this little thing in line while you’re gone. We’ll have a delightful time.” Though the sky had not lightened in the slightest, Meri’s dour mood seemed to have lifted just with the appearance of the man. She could feel that simmering dominant aura about him that she was so easily attracted to. Thankfully, he seemed much more like her husband than the nasty brutes she’d recently been subject to. He gave off a wise confidence that instantly put her at ease. At the same time, she felt uniquely titillated knowing that she would be staying in a house where there was a distinct hierarchy amongst its occupants. The two females she’d seen, Priscilla and a young woman named Nelle, were clearly subordinate to their master, though she was uncertain what roles they played. Lawrence was kindly condescending to them both, receiving their respect and their dutiful obedience. This was not a lot different than the way things worked in her own home. Although Alain tended to be rather lax with Meri; he only treated her like a servant when he was trying to make a point or she was being punished. But now in this environment so removed from her normal life, the strict roles in Gotham Manor and the spooky ambience of the house began to work on the submissive Meri, submerging her in romantic fantasies she long relished.
Unthinkingly, Meri gave the man a little curtsy, blushing as she smiled.
“I think my wife could use a little quiet, a more stress-free environment like you have here. Hopefully by the time I come to fetch her back, I’ll be less stressed too.”
“You should retire, Alain,” Lawrence declared. “It’s worked wonders for my disposition, as well as my private life, as you can see.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have your family money to back me up,” Alain returned, a little grimly. “Besides, I don’t know what it’s like not to work.”
“He’s always been driven,” Lawrence said as an aside to Meri. He took her arm, and escorted her into the library and the warm fire. Winking impishly he added, “At least he’ll have one night to relax. We’ll see what kind of fun we can stir up for this overworked policeman.”
Meri grinned.
By then, it was mid-afternoon. The men were served drinks. Meri a cup of tea.
Although the library was reasonably casual and the men were completely relaxed, Meri felt it necessary to sit on the edge of her seat in a rather prim fashion. She wasn’t yet sure of her role, whether she could be as unguarded as she was at home. She waited for some hint from her husband, but none was forthcoming. For the most part, she was ignored as the men discussed several cases that Alain had been working on. Given Lawrence’s insight into police investigations, it was obvious that he’d either been on the force or in the DA’s office. She wasn’t sure which.
While the two men talked, Lawrence Underhill would occasionally look Meri’s way and wink mischievously. Alain, on the other hand seemed to be unwinding from the stress of the last few days, and he was content to bask in the opportunity to relax in the company of an old friend. Meri didn’t feel comfortable injecting herself into their conversation and spent her time, as she often did, just observing.
“So, Alain, after dinner I think we should give Meredith the complete tour of the house?” This took Meri by surprise and she immediately perked up. “I’m sure there is quite a bit you haven’t showed her that she would be interested in seeing. What do you think?”
“I don’t know how interested she will be,” Alain said. “I think the secrets in your house might be a little challenging for my wife at this point.” He looked at her. He was quite serious but there was that sly amusement in his expression that instantly set her nerves on edge. Not in a bad way. But when he said ‘challenging’ she had the feeling that Alain had more in mind for her in Lawrence Underhill’s home than just a safe place to stay.
“So what do you think, Meredith?” Lawrence asked.
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