by Eden Myles
“Are we going out?” I asked with some excitement.
“We are,” he said, making a come hither gesture.
I went to him and he zipped me up into the dress. Then he had me sit down as he gently and reverently pulled up a pair of black lace stockings. Finally, he slipped on bright red fuck-me Pradas with four-inch heels.
He stood back and looked me over for a long, critical moment before nodding. “Perfect. Come along, my courtesan,” he said, and offered me his arm.
***
We traveled up the Long Island Sound for almost an hour in the limo. Just after the sun set, a huge estate opened up, looking like something that belonged in Georgia during the Civil War. The white colonial was huge and sprawled on what had to be at least fifty acres of secluded upstate woodland. Lachlan’s chauffeur drove us up a long paved road to the front of the house where a massive fountain full of stone satyrs and water nymphs frolicked immortally amidst the sparkling water.
Lachlan took my hand and escorted me out of the limo and I glanced up at the enormous manse towering over us. “More friends of yours?” I asked.
“In a manner of speaking. This is the Dollhouse.” Lachlan smiled to look upon it, and I realized then how important this was to him, that he be part of this Society. Lachlan, who had been the poor boy in the torn and dirty clothes that never fit, the butt of every joke. Lachlan, who had gratefully eaten my sandwiches for a whole year at school. He had finally come home. “What do you think of it?”
I looked at the Cashmere Don, my gentleman, and said, “It suits you.”
“Do you think so, Charlotte?”
“Absolutely. But…”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
He smiled devilishly. “You’re ready.”
He walked me inside.
The most outrageously beautiful people walked the floor, women in fantastic gowns, men in Hollywood-style tuxedoes. Lachlan escorted me across the floor, stopping to talk to several couples. Wolf and Rachaela were there, as well as Lachlan’s neighbors, Drs. Damian and Dorian Michaels, with their courtesan Isabelle tucked between them, and Lachlan was certain to point out Malcolm Sloan and his partner Devon.
My gentleman struck up a heated conversation with Malcolm about stocks while Devon took me aside. “Men. They’ll be at it for some time now,” he said with an arched brow and a vaguely sinister English accent, whisking me into a circle of courtesans and courtiers.
I laughed. “You’re not a man?” I asked archly.
Devon touched his heart dramatically. “My dear, I am a doll. I have a much higher calling than any mere man.”
The other courtesans and courtiers laughed at that.
Rachaela stepped in to talk to me a bit and reassure me. I still felt awkward; she had seen me at my most vulnerable, after all. “You’re only half Chinese, aren’t you?” she said very matter-of-factly. Her observation surprised me. I looked very much like my dad’s side of the family and most folks didn’t see my white mom in me at all.
I nodded. “You can tell?”
“My mother was white.”
I grinned. “Mine too. Do you find it hard here?” I indicated the other courtesans and courtiers, most of which were, frankly, whiter than white. Having grown up in the poorest region of Brooklyn, I almost wasn’t used to seeing so many white folks in one place. It was one of the reasons Lachlan had caught so much flack at our mostly black high school.
Rachaela fetched me a sparkling water. “How do you mean?”
“I mean…do the other women here treat you differently or something?”
Now Rachaela grinned. “Not that I’ve ever noticed.” She turned and laid an arm around my shoulders in a sisterly way. She was very tall, maybe five-ten in her high heels, and she positively towered over scrawny me. She leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Just be yourself. Be what your gentleman wants. What you want. You can’t go wrong, Charlotte.”
“What I want,” I echoed. Up until now, I hadn’t really thought of what I wanted so much as what Lachlan demanded of me. It made me ask the most difficult question. “Is it true what Lachlan says?”
“What does Lachlan say?”
“That you…that you crawl for Wolf.”
“When I allow for it, yes.”
I was confused. “I thought he was in charge of your relationship.”
“He is…when I allow for it.” Rachaela repeated. “My friend Evelyn has a unique philosophy. She says, ‘The power is in the bottom.’ I’ve found that all too true. Think about it.” She smiled as she walked away.
Lachlan came back around and took my hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Are you ready for your debut, my dear?”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m ready for anything, sir.”
***
I’d always had a sixth sense for danger. As we stepped into the Great Room together, something alerted me, like a minor scratch between my shoulder blades. I turned my head and looked over the gentlemen and their companions who were following us into the room where I would perform for them.
There were many couples—and many single gentleman as well, those who hadn’t acquired a companion yet. I scanned their faces, immediately recognizing one in particular. “Rod…” I began, but never finished my exclamation.
Roddy, who had been standing near the back of the crowd, dressed as the other gentlemen were, blinked with confusion, then his eyes widened in surprise to see me. He’d just realized that I’d blown his cover. I felt an immediate flash of embarrassment, then an electric tingle when I saw him reaching into the space under his tuxedo coat.
Instinct made me go for my gun…then I realized I didn’t have my rig. My rig was back at Lachlan’s house. I was completely unarmed. Then again, I hadn’t anticipated that I would be in a firefight tonight.
Roddy pulled his police-issue revolver and aimed it at Lachlan. Lachlan stiffened and immediately shifted to protect me.
“What the hell are you doing here, Charlie?” Roddy said in an icy voice.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I answered.
“I’m not here for you. You shouldn’t even be here.” Roddy’s words confused me as his eyes pinballed between me and Lachlan before settling on Lachlan. “You on the other hand…”
“You’ve been following me,” Lachlan stated matter-of-factly.
“I know all about you…and your sick ‘Society,’” Roddy answered with insult.
My mind jumped to make sense of the situation, but before I could, Lachlan snorted. “You’ve been following me…under his orders.” He gave Roddy a dirty look. “How much is Castellano paying you, Detective?”
“Enough.”
“I’ll pay you more if you put the gun down and walk out of here.”
Now Roddy snorted. “You have no idea what my price tag is, Swann.”
“Try me. I’m a wealthy man.”
“As if I would believe the word of a gangster.”
“My word is no better than that of a crooked cop.”
I moved between the two men and raised my hands defensively. I looked Roddy in the eye. “Tell me what the hell’s going on, Roddy!”
Lachlan offered the man a cocky grin. “I can tell you. Your partner here cut a deal with Castellano to put me down like a dog. What did you tell Vinnie, Detective? That you had a pricey divorce hanging over your head? That you needed the money? But we both know the real reason you want to shoot me is because your sob song isn’t working on Charlotte.” He pinned Roddy with a feral look. “No matter how much you project the poor, broken friend, Charlotte’s not falling into your arms, so of course you need to eliminate the competition. Making some cash on it is just a bonus for you.”
I looked back and forth between the two men before putting it all together. “Roddy…please tell me he isn’t right.” My voice sounded desperate, almost panicked. I couldn’t believe my partner of seven years was holding a gun on us—that he was associating
with scum like Castellano.
Roddy waggled the gun back and forth. The pain and desperation was evident in his eyes. “You really are one cold-hearted bitch, Charlotte, you know that? I’m practically throwing myself at you, but all you’re worried about is fucking your childhood gangster boyfriend. I guess we’ve both disgraced the blue…”
“I’m not holding a gun on a bunch of innocent people, Roddy!”
But he interrupted me. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you, but they say love makes you do stupid things. I guess this is the epitome of stupid things, eh?”
“Roddy, you can stop this…” I said, hoping to talk him down before taking a step toward him. But before I could finish my statement, several of the gentlemen, led by Malcolm Sloan, started to move toward Roddy.
“I don’t know how you got in here,” Malcolm said in an acerbic tone of voice, “but this is not a place of violence. I demand you put down that gun and leave this house immediately!”
To forestall anyone grabbing him, Roddy grabbed the courtesan closest to him—Rachaela. I felt my heart thump into my throat. She grunted as he grabbed her by the netting holding her beautifully coiffured hair in place and pushed her down to her knees on the floor in front of him like a shield.
Wolf immediately moved forward, a curse under his breath, his rattan cane in hand, but Roddy lifted the gun to Rachaela’s head and chambered a bullet. “Relax, blondie,” he said to Wolf.
He didn’t though, his face livid with rage, so that Malcolm had to grab him by the shoulders to keep him from launching himself at Roddy. Rachaela herself was surprisingly calm, raising a hand to forestall any further movements on Wolf’s part.
Lachlan roared, “Let her go!” He also shifted in front of me again. I thought at first it was in a valiant attempt to protect me, but then I remembered something. When Lachlan was a young thug, he’d always kept a small-caliber backup gun tucked into his trousers in the small of his back. He pushed against me and I immediately felt the bulge of the gun. He hadn’t changed that much over the years.
“Shut up, Swann,” Roddy said. “Put your weapon down on the floor and kick it over.”
Lachlan did as he asked, but Roddy didn’t know about the second gun.
My blood was pounding in my ears like war drums as I carefully and discreetly reached up and under Lachlan’s tuxedo jacket and closed my hand over the Beretta subcompact pistol there. It fit my hand well and I easily undid the safety. I knew there were bullets chambered; Lachlan wouldn’t have it any other way. I decided then that if I survived this night, I was definitely going to make Lachlan Swann my husband. He had excellent tastes in firearms. “I ever tell you about this fantasy I have, Lachlan?”
“What’s that, Charlotte?”
“I’d love to see you on your knees.”
Lachlan read my cue perfectly. He dropped to his knees, clearing me for the shot. Unfortunately, Roddy recognized what I was doing and turned the gun on me.
We fired simultaneously.
I’d always been a better shot. Roddy should have remembered that.
My shot knocked him to the floor, the bullet lodged somewhere in his thigh. I heard his shot ring in my ears, but I didn’t know he’d actually grazed me until Lachlan lunged to his feet, grabbed me and pressed a handkerchief to my bleeding cheek. Wolf immediately moved toward Rachaela. Malcolm and his gentlemen army moved to disarm Roddy. Things happened very quickly after that.
***
Two weeks later, I found myself looking over the giant-sized, human mobile that Lachlan had had the gentleman of the Dollhouse prepare for me in the Great Room. Manacles, not fur-lined this time, hung from the big metal crosspiece suspended from the ceiling. It all looked a little like a medieval torture device. I swallowed hard against the knot in my throat. Suddenly, all this seemed painfully real.
“Charlotte.”
I turned to face my gentleman. He stepped up to me, that dreaded cat tucked under his arm, palmed my cheek, and kissed me in that magical way he had to weaken me and turn my bones to water. I was shaking against him as he undid the zipper on my dress. When he drew back, I looked up at him, looked at the gentlemen and their companions gathered around us for our performance, and indicated the manacles. “I’m not sure I can do this, frankly,” I whispered. “If we were alone, I could probably handle it.”
“You have no problem disarming gunmen in a hail of bullets and saving damsels in distress, but this frightens you?” He smiled to show he was teasing.
I nodded. “Yes. And it wasn’t a hail of bullets. It was just one.”
I’d wounded Roddy badly but I hadn’t killed him. That made me feel better, despite what Roddy had done. I wanted to think that he wasn’t a bad man, underneath it all, but, like so many bad men, he’d been in a dark place in his life; it had made him lie down with dogs. In a way, he wasn’t too different from Lachlan—except, of course, Lachlan would never threaten a woman. He had standards, after all.
Once Roddy had recuperated in the hospital, he’d been booked on aggravated assault and misuse of a police weapon. Wolf had pushed for the charges, and to have him locked away, but instead he was being institutionalized, which I found fitting. He wouldn’t find help in prison; he might in therapy. He’d thought babbling on about the Dollhouse would somehow uncover our deep, dark secret and make things hard for us, but it turned out Malcolm Sloan had friends in exceedingly high places. Several lawyers and politicians regularly attended Society Meetings; they were not about to allow New York’s three-hundred-year-old secret to be undone by a punk like Rodriguez.
Lachlan produced a black blindfold. “Will this help?”
I swallowed drily and nodded. “Yes.”
He pinched my chin in two fingers. “Do you trust me?”
“I do.”
He took my lips in a rough kiss, then blindfolded me while saying, “A new deal, Charlotte.”
“Yes?”
“Let me master you tonight, and I’ll let you master me tomorrow night.”
I liked this deal even more than our first one. “Yes.”
He stripped the dress from me. The room was warm, but I still shivered at the sheer vulnerability I felt. Instinct made me want to cross my arms across my bare breasts, but Lachlan said clearly, in his dom voice, “Arms at your sides, Charlotte.”
I lowered my arms, naked for everyone to see.
A few of the members made some low noises of approval, which at least buoyed my courage somewhat. I mean, they didn’t run screaming from the skinny, pale, half Chinese chick, at least. That was good, right?
Lachlan led me, naked and blindfolded, to the mobile. He let me feel the metal manacles before clacking them shut around my wrists. They stretched my arms, making me arch my back and almost putting me on tip-toe even in my four-inch heels. I felt suspended, exposed, helpless. “Remember, you can use your safewords to stop our play at anytime, and I will always honor them, Charlotte, no matter what we’re doing. Do you feel safe?”
I thought about that. I nodded, then added, “I always feel safe with you, sir.”
“What color are you?”
“Green.”
He leaned down and kissed my ear. His tongue circled the shell teasingly. “Charlotte,” he whispered. “I want to touch you. I want the others to watch as I touch you, bring you. Let me.”
I was surprised to hear him ask my permission. Suddenly, Rachaela’s philosophy started making more sense to me. The power lies in the bottom. “Yes, sir.”
I heard Lachlan disrobe, then pick up and snap the cat o’ nine tails. The sound gave my skin a rush of goose pimples. “You mustn’t move, react, speak or come until I say. Do you understand, my courtesan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you do any of those things, you will be severely punished. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you consent?”
“I do, sir.”
Soon, the real torture began. He licked my lips and drew a line down the
center part of my body with his mouth, his lips and teeth, while brushing the leather flails on the cat down my back at the same time. He went down on one knee and circled each pert nipple with his tongue, wet them thoroughly, then blew them dry.
I writhed at his ministrations. Couldn’t help myself. A whimper caught in my throat but was quickly cut off when he cracked the flails over the tips of my breasts. I absorbed the stinging blow, my punishment, and clamped my jaws shut over the cry that might have escaped otherwise.
“Very good,” he told me. His licked over my ribs and down lower to the ticklish spot seated at the top of my pussy. My body trembled. My breath came out in a ragged pant.
He slapped me across the ass with the cat. The blow was sudden and sharp, making me cry out despite my attempts to hold it in. Another blow followed the first almost immediately. This time, I absorbed it like the first blow, and though the whipping rocked me slightly in the manacles, I was proud to say I made no noises this time.
“Good girl.” He stood up to attach the dreaded nipple clamps to my already hardened peaks. The alligator clamps seized my flesh and I bit my tongue to keep from crying out, especially when bolts of pleasure and pain shot through my body and centered on my core, moistening me. I snorted through my nose, working at absorbing and compartmentalizing the pain as Lachlan had said.
I was feeling very proud of myself until Lachlan gave the chain a short, harsh tug.
“Fuck me!” I whimpered through the sudden, overwhelming shock of pain.
He slapped my pussy with the flail. The stinging blow made me cry out.
Lachlan snorted with displeasure. “Your place is to obey, my courtesan, to listen to your gentleman. Your job is to take the pain and pleasure your gentleman deals you with grace and gratitude. Do you understand me?”
“Oh yes,” I drawled.