Forbidden Reading

by Lisette Ashton

  ‘There’s a point. Mrs Weiss proved this one’s appetites to me yesterday. I’ve never encountered a woman so anxious to suffer pain and so responsive to any form of torment. Do you want me to show you how responsive she is?’

  ‘Go on.’

  Justine held herself still, not sure what to expect. She saw a movement of light from the corner of her eye and realised the assistant was lifting a candle. She glimpsed the shape of his pleasant manly face, and then saw the glint of his beard. She assumed he was raising the candle so she had a better view of him and it was almost automatic to smile politely as their gazes met.

  And then he tipped the candle.

  A trail of molten wax spilt from the meniscus of the candle. The flame briefly soared higher as it was allowed a chance to burn against the exposed wick. And a searing heat burnt against the thrust of her right nipple. The pain was infuriating, sudden and unexpected and she felt as though the blazing heat had branded her flesh. As the molten wax trickled over her skin, settling into the creases of her areola and then spilling around the swell of her breast, she wanted to scream.

  Instead, her inner muscles clenched around the fingers that penetrated her and a surge of wetness rushed through her sex. The liquid that suddenly surrounded the fingers inside her pussy felt as warm and copious as the molten wax that had gushed over her breast.

  ‘Damn!’ Marais exclaimed. ‘She is responsive.’

  Mrs Weiss’s assistant chuckled.

  Breathless from the experience, surprised by the easy way her body translated pain into pleasure, Justine wanted to smile and join in their obvious appreciation of her reaction. She glanced from one man to the other, weakly grinning at each, and then watched as the assistant poured a second stream of wax over her left breast.

  This time the pain was exquisite.

  A shock of bright fire ignited against her sensitive skin. She was sickened by the intensity of the heat, and overwhelmed by the way her body responded. Whereas before she had clenched the muscles of her sex voluntarily, this time the reaction was beyond her control. The muscles gripped tight around Marais’s fingers. She held him with so much force she could tell for the first time that he had three fingers inside. The sensitivity inside her muscles was so strong she could feel each of the knuckles trying to flex in response to her punishing hold. And then she lost track of what was happening as paroxysms of pure delight ebbed through her body. Curling her hands into fists, arching her back as the orgasm took hold, she hammered against the table and basked in the glorious climax.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you the bitch was insatiable?’ Mrs Weiss grumbled.

  ‘She’s that and more,’ Marais marvelled.

  As he spoke, the vibration of his words trembled through his fingers. Justine placed a hand against her mouth to stifle a moan. The familiar threat of a pending orgasm had tightened in her chest and she struggled not to submit to it for fear that they might prolong her ordeal.

  ‘I’ll show you again,’ the assistant said.

  Before anyone could stop him, he had reached for the solidified cap of wax that covered her right breast and peeled it away. Justine thought the sensation was something akin to having her flesh stripped. She glanced down at her body just to make sure he hadn’t torn away the nipple and was amazed to see her skin was still intact. The removal of the wax ignited a heat that was every bit as potent as the wax first splashing against her. Her nipple was stung by so much raw heat the hard bead of flesh stood rigid. In the candlelight it was such a vibrant red the colour seemed to throb.

  Justine moaned.

  The assistant raised his candle and started to tilt it.

  She was torn between needing to feel more and desperate not to suffer the anguish. The night had been a constant torment of pleasures and pains she had not anticipated and would never understand. Throughout her ordeal at Vincennes Castle Justine had thought her limits had been exceeded but that endless punishment had not been anything like this. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes as she closed them and she silently begged the assistant not to drip more wax onto her.

  After a moment of nothing happening, she dared to open one eye.

  Mrs Weiss had stayed the assistant’s hand. Her authoritative glare was enough for Justine to know which of them wielded the power at the table.

  ‘Justine’s worthiness has been proven,’ Mrs Weiss said coolly.

  Justine shivered with relief on the table.

  The assistant glanced toward Marais and, after receiving a nod of approval, slowly lowered his hand.

  Justine dared to glance at the other faces and saw the priest was nodding indulgently while Sartine and Marie grinned with almost juvenile appreciation.

  Marais slowly drew his fingers from Justine’s sex. The slippery egress inspired a final rush of pleasure that could have pushed her past the brink of orgasm, but she refused to let it take her there. Instead, after gathering her thoughts, she pulled herself from the table and staggered to her feet. It was impossible to tell where her clothes had gone in the darkness and she doubted there would be any chance of retrieving them. Deciding she could possibly use one of the discarded cowls that lay in amongst the ruins, she turned to face Marais.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Have I earned La Coste?’

  Marais considered her solemnly. From out of the darkness he plucked the battered yellow pages and thumbed through them as if they were nothing of any great importance. ‘I’m not sure.’

  She glared at Marais, shocked at the idea that he might now be trying to cheat her of her prize. Outrage, despair and fury shrieked through her thoughts but she knew better than to give voice to any of them. Trying to rationalise her argument, certain that all would be lost if she responded angrily, Justine asked, ‘What does that mean? You’ve received your money. I’ve proved myself worthy. What possible barrier could now stand in the way of you giving me La Coste?’

  ‘Are you sure you want it?’

  ‘I’ve spent the last four days surrendering to every depraved whim The Society can imagine,’ Justine sneered. ‘Doesn’t that give you a clue?’

  Rather than taking offence at her stiff tone, he laughed as though they were sharing a joke. ‘You deposited a large sum of money in my account,’ he reminded her. ‘I could offer you several things instead of these tattered old pages.’

  ‘I only want La Coste.’

  ‘I could reimburse you now, here, with double the cash. Wouldn’t that be better than gaining the book?’

  ‘Are you backing out of the sale?’

  ‘No. I’m just making sure you get what you want. Would you prefer to make the investment in property? I have several estates, each one with a market value at three or four times the amount you’re paying for this book. I’ll let you have any one of them if you elect to have that instead of La Coste.’

  ‘I only want La Coste,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Of course you do,’ he agreed. ‘And I can see now that there’s nothing else I could offer you that would sway your decision. You wouldn’t even be interested if I could find that blonde girl who was with you at Sartine’s. I doubt you’d even want her if I could organise for you take that delectable putain in exchange for your investment.’

  Her mind raced ahead as she tried to work out what he was offering. It stood to reason that Marais would know about her lover. If the priest, Sartine and Mrs Weiss had told him how she had fared in their respective challenges, Justine didn’t doubt they would also have shared the titillating information about her girlfriend. But hearing him use her as a bargaining chip against the book she had been trying to acquire made Justine wonder if she was still proving her worthiness. ‘You know how to get hold of the penitent?’ Justine gasped. She realised she had said the words without thinking. From the shadows she could almost feel the livid gaze of Mrs Weiss as the woman glared at her furiously.

  ‘Would you prefer that?’ Marais asked quickly. ‘Would you rather I had her indentured into service for you? I can organise it
so easily she’d be back home with you, doing everything you told her, before the ink was dry on our arrangement.’

  Justine considered the choice carefully.

  At the back of her mind she could almost feel Mrs Weiss silently screaming for her to pick the book. The woman’s angst was obvious, even though she remained silent in the dark. But, although Justine wanted to please her and end the ordeal now, she couldn’t let her last hope of having the penitent slip through her fingers.

  ‘You can get her for me?’

  ‘Easily. Is that what you want?’

  She saw a shadow loom behind Marais and realised Mrs Weiss was there. The threat of retribution Justine had expected to see wasn’t on the woman’s features. Instead, Mrs Weiss merely looked expectant as she waited for Justine’s decision. As her eyes finally grew accustomed to the darkness, Justine noticed the same expression on the face of the priest, Sartine and Marie. A shiver trembled through her bare body and she understood, of all the tests she had so far endured, this was the only one that truly mattered.

  That thought was enough to make the decision for her.

  ‘No,’ Justine said eventually. ‘I don’t want the penitent from you. If I have her, it will be through my own enquiries and my own devices.’ Glaring at Marais, she said, ‘All I want from you is the manuscript I’ve purchased. Give me that and I’ll be on my way.’

  Smiling tightly, he handed the pages over to her. And, as Justine acknowledged the thrill of holding the parchment, she heard him say, ‘You chose well this time, Mrs Weiss. But I’ll choose a better one when it’s my turn next month.’

  After the Journey

  A month later, flicking the switch for the vault, Justine felt a smile stretch across her face. The expression was no longer unusual, even for the chore of crosschecking the contents of the private library. The vault was as gloomy as ever, with glimpses of drab walls visible between the bookcases. But the room no longer filled her with a sense of despondency. The contents were as priceless and inaccessible as they had been before, yet she no longer considered the treasure to be pointless. And, more surprisingly, she realised she was almost happy to be working in the library’s private vault.

  Not troubling herself with the shift in attitude, accepting the change without needing to analyse its cause, Justine didn’t let herself worry about that or her newly found tolerance of her job’s day-to-day drudgery. It was easy to brush the smaller matters of boredom aside because the cataloguing was no longer the chore it had once been.

  Her new assistant followed her warily into the room.

  ‘These books are so old,’ she gasped. Her heavy French accent made the declaration sound both innocent and grand. ‘Are they valuable?’

  ‘I’ve been told they’re priceless,’ Justine mumbled. She said the words as though she didn’t care. Guiding the penitent to the vault’s latest acquisition, urging her to take a seat so they could begin another day’s work on the translation, Justine brushed away her lover’s attempts to kiss and made her concentrate on the illicit task with which they were involved.

  ‘I don’t want to translate,’ the penitent complained. ‘I want to make love to you.’

  Her mouth was a hungry pout. The simple dress she wore clung to the contours of her body with such loose ease that Justine instantly knew the woman wasn’t wearing underwear. The temptation to surrender to the penitent’s desire for intimacy was almost irresistible, but Justine told herself that she had to be strong willed.

  ‘You can kiss me when we get home this evening,’ Justine promised. ‘Right now I need you to translate this for me while I type. I want it finished by the weekend.’

  Pouting, the penitent asked, ‘What is the hurry?’

  Justine spoke as she set up her laptop and waited for the operating system to load. ‘Mrs Weiss informs me that Marais has been approached by another potential buyer. She thinks this one is acting on Sartine’s behalf. If the woman proves herself worthy, the manuscript could be in their hands by Monday morning.’

  ‘Do you think that is likely?’ the penitent gasped. She placed a protective hand over the yellowed pages of the manuscript as through trying to defend it from being taken by someone else. ‘Do you think this woman will prove herself worthy?’

  Justine shrugged.

  Being alone with the penitent always made her thoughts turn lurid. Rather than continuing with the illicit translation she was making, Justine now wanted to have the woman kneel on the floor, between her legs, and lick the broiling split of her pussy. They had an hour away from the library floor and were not going to be disturbed. The opportunity to enjoy each other was maddeningly tempting, but Justine found the will to resist.

  She opened the text document they had started a week earlier and held her fingers over the keyboard ready to transcribe the penitent’s translation. As was always the case when the woman was near her, Justine saw that her hands were trembling with excitement.

  ‘You did not answer my question,’ the penitent complained. ‘This woman that Captain Sartine has found: is she likely to acquire La Coste?’

  Justine shrugged again. ‘I’ve been told it’s unlikely,’ she admitted. With a sly grin she added, ‘But I guess we’ll find out for ourselves. We’re going to help Mrs Weiss prove this one’s worthiness.’ Not allowing the conversation to continue, determined that they would get the translation finished before La Coste ended up in the hands of another deserving recipient, she pointed sternly at the yellowed pages and said, ‘We need to begin now.’ Glancing down at her laptop, trying to locate the last point they had reached, she added, ‘The last words you read out to me were: forbidden reading.’