"Cross them, Richard. Make her look like a chess board. You know how she loves the game."
The cane fell again, crossing over the fiery lines already embedded in her tender flesh. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and she was sick before her vision went dark. She embraced that peace with relieved joy.
∞∞∞
Something acrid waved under Elizabeth’s nose and she scowled. Her hand wouldn't move when she tried to wave the offensive odor away and she blinked. She rested in the cradle of the pillory, her bottom and thighs clamoring with agony. Wetness dripped down the backs of her legs and she knew Richard had beaten her severely enough to leave scars.
"Your bottom stripes so prettily, pet. We will be proud to show you off at the masquerade tonight."
Angeline's sibilant whisper tickled her ear, and she wanted to flinch away. Thankfully, her lucidity had come back along with her consciousness. "Thank you, my lady. I am so glad to be pleasing to you."
Richard stroked her bottom, his touch gentle but still unbearably painful. She couldn't see his face, yet it didn't lessen the horrifying impact of his words. "We're going to brand you today so that you always bear our mark and know that you are our most treasured pet."
Somehow, she kept her face in the lax smile that marked her days, thoughts of freedom and deliverance keeping her silent when all she wanted to do was strike out, hurting them both enough that they left her in peace.
Angeline's eyes were black as she approached, the violet color obscured by malevolent magic. In her hand was a dully glowing iron curved into an uppercase S. Elizabeth steeled herself against it, but screamed in fear and pain as the hot metal touched the rounded muscle of her outer buttock.
The stench of smoke and burnt meat tickled her nostrils, drawing a sneeze from her as she sobbed her agony, ignored by her uncaring captors. The pain, coupled with the scent of her seared flesh overwhelmed her and she retched, bile dripping from her mouth as she lost whatever remained in her stomach on the floor at their feet.
She choked out a maddened laugh as they smiled at her, fully expecting her thanks for this new mark upon her body. The odor was her own flesh, cooked and offered up as a sacrifice. How much more of this could she bear without going truly insane?
She had to cough to clear her throat of the lingering stench of roasted meat before she could speak. "Thank you, my lady," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her screams.
The witch touched the brand and the heat of her fingers was even greater than the iron. Richard gazed at her dumbly, his face fixed into a rictus grin as Angeline healed the wicked brand, soothing the cane marks on her backside as well. She ignored him and looked at the cooling iron in Angeline's hand
"What does the S mean?" she asked, keeping her voice soft and subservient.
"Shepton, perhaps. Slut and slave would work as well, I should think."
"Yes, my lady," Elizabeth murmured softly. She didn't know how or when, but there would be Hell to pay for this new indignity. She would bear that thrice damned S upon her skin for the rest of her life, and even after. It would remain on her flesh until her body decomposed, returning her component parts to the earth.
She resolved to ignore the disfigurement. It was already done and couldn't be changed. It was far more important that she keep up the façade of vapid obedience. The babe inside her demanded her complete attention, and she could not allow herself to falter for even one moment.
Richard loosened her bonds and carried her to the massive black bed. "Such a good little pet deserves a reward." He smiled down at her as he positioned her on her knees and elbows.
Angeline spread oil around Elizabeth's bottom hole bare seconds before Richard pushed her aside and thrust into Elizabeth's bottom, the burn lessened by Angeline's preparation. Her fingers trailed to Elizabeth's wet cunt, thrusting deep into Elizabeth's channel as her thumb worked the piercing over her nubbin.
Elizabeth was always wet. It was unconscionable, but true. They debased her, and she reveled in it. Richard redoubled his efforts, pulling her close as he thrust inside her, setting flame to those dark nerve endings, his balls slapping wetly against her aching bottom. Crying out, she reached her pleasure as he filled her to bursting, grunting as he spent himself inside her.
His heavy body collapsed, crushing her under his weight. When he pulled away from her and offered her his cock, she accepted it into her mouth, cleaning his member ever so thoroughly as he stroked her hair.
Allowing his flaccid cock to fall from her lips she said, "Thank you, my lord."
He smiled and laid down next to her, kissing her face as if he loved her. He stroked her abdomen, his hand stalling over the small bump as he inhaled sharply. She returned those kisses, torn between wishing she could love him and wanting to desecrate his ignoble grave.
Chapter 12
Marriage is like a cage; one sees the birds outside desperate to get in, and those inside equally desperate to get out.
Michel de Montaigne
Angeline led her back into the bathing chamber, sitting her in one of the chairs next to the dressing table before turning on the taps to fill the bathtub. She unraveled Elizabeth's braids with gentle hands as she told her what a good girl she'd been. What a precious pet she was.
She wanted to rinse her mouth of bile and the taste of Richard and her own foulness from her mouth. "May I have some water, my lady?"
"Of course." Angeline filled a crystal tumbler with cold water from the tap.
Elizabeth accepted the glass, drinking deeply of the cold relief as it soothed her sore throat. Her voice was husky and soft and clicked roughly when she swallowed. She wondered if she'd broken something with her screams.
She finished the water and set the tumbler aside as Angeline helped her into the tub. The water turned pink around her, evidence of the damage Richard had done to her bottom, yet she could feel no open wounds. There were only raised welts, and she thanked God for small favors that they were only tender when she pressed on them. She knew Angeline had no intention of healing them any further.
Ducking her head underwater, she wetted her hair and reached for the soap but Angeline had already started working it through her long hair.
"We have several hours to let this dry. We'll have a bit of breakfast, and then you may rest until it's time to get dressed. We'll have a light supper before we leave."
"Yes, my lady." She allowed Angeline to bathe her like a child. It was expected behavior, and despite her antipathy, Elizabeth relished the comfort of her gentle touch. Almost too soon, she was clean and Angeline helped her to her feet. She wrapped a drying cloth around Elizabeth's hair before patting her skin dry and checking her mons for stray hairs. Elizabeth wondered why she bothered. She hadn't had hair in weeks.
She wrapped an arm around Elizabeth's waist and led her into the lord's chambers, settling her into a chair at the table as Sarah bustled in with a tray full of steaming dishes.
She set the tray down and Elizabeth nodded her thanks as she lifted the cover from the food. The odor of browned bacon met her nostrils, and she leaped from her chair to rush for the commode. Falling to her knees, she dry heaved over and over. Nothing was left to expel, save the water she'd had.
No bacon. No meat of any sort. She didn't even think she could tolerate overly browned bread crusts. A soft hand stroked her hair and she looked up from the fouled water at the witch. Her solicitous expression was so at odds with what Elizabeth knew her to be. She was like a changeling, flashing between cruel and kind in a second.
"Are you quite well?"
Admonishing herself to hold her waspish comments, she replied as meekly as she could, "No, my lady. I believe that meat will be off my menu until I give birth. The smell is quite distressing to the babe." Angeline scowled at her words, but it was the best answer she'd been able to produce. Perhaps next time, she'd be accidentally sick on the witch's feet. The punishment would be worth it.
"Oh, very well. Could you stomach the eggs, or is that too much for your del
icate constitution?"
"Leave her be, Angeline." Richard knelt next to her, his eyes searching her face as she blinked in surprise. He smiled and gently wiped her face with a cloth. "Come. Mrs. Abernathy will give you one of her lovely scones and jam while the room is aired."
She nodded and he helped her to her feet then into one of her plain work dresses. She shivered at his touch, making him frown and wrap a shawl around her shoulders, ignoring Angeline's scowl of disapproval. Leading her down the stairs, he snapped at Stevens. "Fetch Lady Shepton a scone and some weak tea, please."
He sat with her over breakfast, watching as she picked the scone apart to remove all the browned bits before eating it. She did feel better with something in her stomach but knew she would cast up her accounts at even the faintest whiff of roasted meat.
"Would you like to try an egg?"
"No, thank you, my lord. This is plenty." She glanced out the window, noting the weather was very fair. She could even hear birds chirping their early spring calls. "May I take a walk outside? Perhaps a bit of fresh air will improve my constitution."
"I'll go fetch your boots and we can go together."
"You are very kind, my lord, but I don't want to disturb you. Surely you have other things requiring your attention." She begged him silently to think of something else he could be doing. She hadn't considered that he would come with her, or she would never have asked.
"No, I shall come with you. You were ill and shouldn't be alone."
"Thank you, my lord."
He nodded and strode away, presumably to fetch shoes and cloaks. She settled back in her chair, rubbing her chilled hands over her face. Every time she was forced to speak, it grew harder to maintain the façade that she still labored under Angeline's geas. Yet she had to.
Her father would hopefully arrive tomorrow or the day after, and she prayed his presence would expose Angeline's treachery. She'd pinned all her hopes on him, knowing he was a wastrel of the worst sort, yet she had nothing else.
And she still had to attend that despicable masquerade tonight. She straightened her spine, rubbing the hard lump in her belly. She would manage. There was no other alternative.
∞∞∞
"Are you happy as our pet, Elizabeth?"
The question sprang at her as they walked through the dormant garden. It was very fine outside, and she could see nascent buds on some of the early blooming plants. Crocuses peeked their tiny heads from beds of loam surrounding trees, and greenery sprouted from daffodils and tulips. The garden would be lovely in a few weeks.
"I am very happy, my lord," she murmured, her voice still husky and soft.
"I am glad." He took her hand and laid it upon his arm, the heat seeping through his coat warming her fingers. "I'd hoped you would be, and that we could share our lives together with Angeline."
"Yes, my lord."
He stopped and turned her body to face him. "Is that all you ever say? I remember a charming girl who chattered incessantly about books a young lady shouldn't read."
Her heart missed a single beat and started again, but the rhythm was discordant and abnormal. "I suppose I've found other amusements. May we return? I think I should like to rest."
The old Elizabeth would have run barefoot through the wet grass. She would have laughed and ridden her neighbor's old horse and searched for early mushrooms. She would have stayed outside until it grew too dark to see.
This new creature, the construct of a spell and abuse, sought solitude where she might lick her wounds in private.
"In a moment. I want you to tell me what you're thinking, sweet pet."
"I am very tired, my lord—"
"Tell me. Tell me what you would be doing if you were allowed to do anything you wanted."
"I…" She gazed at him helplessly. She had no idea what to say without earning another punishment. He looked down at her, but she couldn't read his expression. It was as if he sought something from her, but she couldn't think what it might be.
"You will get no punishment if you are honest, pet."
That damned word! She hated it! Hated being considered a creature lower even than the servants. She spun away, refusing to look at him. "Very well!" she shouted. "I would be running barefoot through the grass. I would ride bareback and astride, so fast that no one would ever catch me. I would look for mushrooms, and if I was very lucky, I would find early strawberries. I would sit on the ground and eat them straight off the plants."
She turned back to face him. "And I wouldn't come home until dark. I would be utterly filthy with mud and grass stains and the housekeeper would chide me for tracking mud on the floors." Breathing hard, she straightened her spine and met his surprised gaze. His mouth opened, and she knew he would punish her for her intemperate words. Yet he smiled, and it was like a sunrise, full of joy.
"Go."
"I beg your pardon, my lord? I don't—"
"I said, go. Run and ride and find mushrooms and strawberries." He knelt down and unlaced her boots, pulling them off her feet as she rested a hand on his shoulder for balance. His hands crept up her skirts, and he loosened her garters, freeing her legs from their stockings.
She backed away and turned, her feet itching to move, but she stopped when he spoke once more.
"I expect you back before the sun hits the tops of the trees."
She thought she heard him laugh as she dropped her shawl and sprinted away toward the stable. It was surely her imagination that he followed on a blowing bay stallion as she and Storm raced across the barren fields, cursing when she leaped a fence too much for them.
It was a trick of the light that made her see his shadow as she gathered mushrooms, tucking several handfuls of early morels into her pockets. And surely, it was generosity to leave a few strawberries for the birds.
And it was definitely a fantasy that she heard a sharp intake of breath when she vaulted up to Storm's wide back as he started running.
As the sun descended, she turned Storm back toward the barn, her skirts hiked up past her knees and muddy feet dangling on either side of his bare back. She used no rein to guide him; only her hands and feet. She heard the stallion's huffy breath before he approached.
"He isn't in good enough shape for such a run, my lord."
"I know. I wanted to…" His voice trailed off. "Thank you for the strawberries. They were very good."
"You're welcome."
"You're a very fine seat, you know. I'm quite impressed."
"Thank you."
"How many mushrooms did you gather?"
"Enough for my supper, my lord. Perhaps Mrs. Abernathy can put them into an omelet."
He nodded, and she wondered if this uncomfortable conversation was finally at an end. She had to steel herself for the coming evening and didn't want the distraction. Yet when they reached the stable yard, he trotted ahead and dismounted first. Grasping her about the waist, he tugged her from her horse, setting her gently on her feet.
"Angeline will be displeased, but you won't be punished. Go inside and get cleaned up. It's time to get ready for the ball."
∞∞∞
To say that Angeline was displeased was quite a remarkable understatement. She was lividly furious at Elizabeth's disheveled and filthy appearance.
"You look like a filthy little Cheapside guttersnipe! What have you been doing?" She yanked on Elizabeth's arm, digging her nails deeply into her flesh as her shrill denigration echoed through the halls.
"Angeline!"
Richard's voice stopped her in her tracks, and her mouth gaped open as he pulled her clenching fingers away from Elizabeth's arm. "I allowed her to go outside and do as she wished. It was my decision, my dear."
"But she—"
"Enough. This is my house, and I won't be gainsaid." He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently. "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
It was apparent that Angeline was perhaps more shocked than Elizabeth was. She hadn't believed Richard would bother to defend her, but
the temptation of the day had proven too much for her weak will, despite knowing she would be punished.
"Of course, Richard. I didn't realize you'd allowed her to get herself into such a state of dishabille."
"I'll take care of it. Why don't you spend your time getting ready? I can't ask you to deal with the mess when you have yet to prepare yourself."
She scowled but nodded. "Very well. I'll be in to dress her shortly." She flounced away, her pointed nose turned upward as she pushed past the milling servants.
"Why did you do that?" Elizabeth whispered.
"I promised you that you wouldn't be punished."
She shut her mouth with a snap. He'd also promised to honor and cherish her. His promises were worth less to her than the breath it cost him to speak.
He helped her bathe, laughing as he had to empty the tub several times to get rid of the last of the mud. He wasn't at all angry with her for upsetting his mistress. It was as if… She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the thought that it was almost as if they were a true husband and wife.
Yet the fragile truce was broken when Angeline stormed in with a bundle of sheer fabric. "Go dress, my dear. I'll take care of Elizabeth while your cook brings us a meal."
He nodded but gripped her chin. "No punishment, Angeline. Don't forget." Kissing her on her forehead, he whistled cheerfully as he closed the door behind himself.
Angeline huffed irritably and scowled at her. "Troublesome baggage. I'll have to whip you some other time." She paced around Elizabeth. "At least you're clean and presentable. Perhaps the time outside did you some good. There's a lovely bloom in your cheeks."
Throwing back her head, she cackled loudly. "There's a lovely bloom in all your cheeks!" She slapped Elizabeth's bottom and shook out the fabric in her hand.
It was a length of sheer fabric. Elizabeth thought it might be the same cloth her shifts were made from, but she couldn't see how it could be made into a garment. Her question was answered when Angeline draped it around her body, exposing one breast as she tied it at her shoulder. She wrapped a gold chain around Elizabeth's waist to give shape to the fabric, opening it to reveal the brand on her bottom. Her rounded belly was disguised by the silky folds, only visible when she turned sideways.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 14