Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lord Henry entered the bedroom a few moments ago.
Today I feel clear. Clearer than I have ever felt in my entire life. It is as though I have gone through a terrible dark passage where I have encountered many obstacles that would impede my progress and keep me from my goal.
I glance up at the two paintings—they do not look as sinister, as confused to me as they once did. I do not feel as confused.
I sit on the edge of the bed while Henry reads my letter.
He reads it once, then re-reads it. Then reads it a third time. The room is silent and still. The air feels like a welcome container which supports my life, and Henry’s. I feel very calm. Confident. As though I have all my life been broken in pieces and am now, for the first time, cemented together.
When he finishes the letter, he places it on the desk.
“Dorianne,” he says, “you are a passionate, creative woman, with a complex nature and a beauty of simplicity that humbles me. I would not wish to alter your nature, but to cherish it, that it may blossom more fully.”
“Henry, I know that now.” I get up from the bed and go to him. I stand before him and kneel between his legs. He bends to kiss me and while doing so, I open his pants. As if he intuitively knew what would be in my letter, he has made Vita’s strap into a belt which he wears. I slide it from the loops of his trousers as we kiss and then break away from him momentarily to hand him the length of hide.
The look of ferocious passion in his eyes stirs me. Today, I know my fantasies will become a reality, and I will move into the realm of being a woman, a very strong, loving woman. And within the containment of this relationship, I understand that I have all the control in the world, because what I can give and withdraw is me, what is to Henry of most value.
Henry stands, walks to the dresser and picks up the hairbrush. Then he moves to the bed and sits with his back against the headboard, positioning himself until he is comfortable. He places the leather and the brush onto a small table beside the bed, and then says in a firm voice words that thrill me, words I have longed to hear. “Dorianne, over my knee.”
Look for the other books in the Darker Passions series
Available now or coming soon from Puffin Rooster Press
The Darker Passions: Dracula
The Darker Passions: Frankenstein
The Darker Passions: Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde
The Darker Passions: The Fall of the House of Usher
The Darker Passions: The Pit and the Pendulum
The Darker Passions: Carmilla
Darker Passions: The Picture of Dorian Gray Page 19