by Cecelie Hart
But Emma saw little of that. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the woman sitting behind the desk. She was captivating and alluring, graceful and seductive... but there was something overly rich about her beauty, like the cloying sweetness of fruit just about to turn. Her long blonde hair was shiny and luxurious and her eyes sparkled... yet it was the glitter of sunlight on ice. It was beauty on the edge—fighting hard and refusing to accept time, clinging to the past rather than evolving with grace into something new.
It took a moment for Emma to realize Madame Silk was older than she initially appeared... and why she looked so familiar.
"Ada," she purred, smiling at the housekeeper with what might have been warmth. "It is good to see you home again."
Ada turned her head, showing Madame Silk her cheek and refusing to meet her eyes.
The older blonde's mouth twitched and hardened. "No words for your mother?" she asked blandly. "Not even a curse?"
"None of that," Edmund snarled. "You know why we are here?"
"Talking for her now, are you?" Madame Silk drawled, honey on a steel blade.
"Only to you," he spat.
"Such impotent vitriol," Madame silk chuckled. "And yes I know why you are here?" She gestured down at the desk. "I have the contracts ready... again." She smiled sweetly. "What I fail to understand is why you think I would let you play once more. Some trained slattern dressed as a lady is of no interest to me."
It took Emma a moment to realize that was her. Slattern? She stiffened indignantly and her eyes flashed. She was no impostor. She could trace her lineage back to the conqueror.
"Hmmm.... " Madame Silk sat back and gave Emma a longer look. "Some fire in this one, I see." Her gaze wandered down across the lady's bosom and stomach, then out along her arms... all the way to where her ring gleamed on her finger. "Edmund..." she drawled with a surprised smile. "Are you actually offering your wife as a contestant?"
"I am," he replied stiffly.
"Well..." she purred, drumming her fingers on the desk. "That does change things. I assume you ask for the same prize as last time."
"I do," he said with a nod.
"Then we may have an agreement..." Madame Silk drawled slowly, "Except, I shall need one more thing."
"What?" he growled.
"Your assurance that this shall be the last time," she replied with a chuckle. "When you lose, you will never try again."
Emma glanced sideways. She remembered the promise she'd overheard him make to Ada. The fires that he'd pledged were burning in his eyes. She still wasn't sure what he'd been talking about. But, if this didn't work, it wasn't hard to imagine half of London being consumed by the resulting blaze.
"Oh yes..." he said softly. "This is the very last game we shall play."
Madame Silk chuckled. "That almost sounded like a threat, Edmund. I think you forget who you are speaking to."
Emma couldn't help frowning. Her husband was a lord. He was the master of a great estate. This woman was nobody. She was little better than the madam of a brothel. Her daughter was a servant. How could she dare to speak to her betters like that? But Emma could tell by her husband's unease that Madame Silk was not bluffing.
Edmund pursed his lips, but said nothing more.
Madame Silk chuckled again, but mirthlessly. She waved a hand dismissively and returned her attention to Emma. "She's a pretty little thing," she mused, licking her lips. "And her bloodline will draw a crowd." Her fingers drummed on the desk. "Proven fertile too... isn't that right, Edmund? You have an heir now, do you not?"
"I do," he hissed.
"She will have to be examined, of course," Madame Silk purred, standing with a broad smile across her face.
"You think I would have my own wife cut?" Edmund growled. "You insult me!"
Madame Silk laughed. "Desperate men have done worse," she drawled. "I shall need my proof."
Cut? Examination? She didn't like the sound of this. Emma glanced at her husband. What were they talking about?
Edmund gritted his teeth. "Very well," he spat. "Summon your doctor."
Madame Silk raised an eyebrow. "Now you insult me," she chuckled. "I know the secrets of a woman better than any lecherous quack."
She slowly circled her desk, eyes trained on Emma. She stopped right in front of her. The young lady blushed and shifted on her feet under the intense attention.
"Lift her skirts," Madame Silk commanded.
What? Emma stiffened and barely stifled an unseemly yelp. But her husband merely nodded as he bent and grabbed the hem of her dress. She blinked as he lifted it, gathering up her petticoats and even her slip as he rose. Her pussy winked and squirmed as the sunlight hit it. Emma clenched her thighs together reflexively, but she supposed she shouldn't be too surprised. He'd already exposed her nether regions to enough of their guests that she had little modesty left.
"Very pretty, my dear," Madame Silk purred with a broad, lewd grin. Reaching out, she forced her hand between Emma's legs and curled two fingers up into her noble cunt.
The young lady stared straight ahead as she was deftly examined. Madame Silk fingered her pussy as if she were a prize mare to be inspected, bought and sold. The nooks and crannies of her womanhood were carefully explored to ensure anatomical correctness.
"She is physically intact," Madame Silk conceded, "and delightfully tight for a mother. But the mind can be cut as surely as the body. Let us see if her oyster can still make pearls..."
Emma couldn't help but gasp as the nature of her intimate probing abruptly changed. She couldn't say what the difference was, but suddenly her violation was far less medical and a lot more welcome. The fingers seemed to dance inside her, caressing her with an intoxicating mix of firmness and ephemeral softness. Madame Silk knew where to press and when to slide... and how to stroke the hooded rosebud that guarded the gates of Emma's womanhood and when to stop and delve deep inside...
She bit her lip, eyes twitching. If it had not been for her training, she might have already moaned and surrendered to the little death. If her husband's maids had not prepared her for such an ordeal every morning since her wedding night... Tears filled her eyes. Madame Silk was teasing her with unparalleled skill. Not even Ada could come so close to bringing her off so quickly... and the foreplay and circumstance had been far from ideal.
But her husband had rules... and one rule above all others. Emma was permitted all manner of carnal delights and torments, but that moment of joyful ecstasy could only be hers while he was in some manner inside her. Her natural tastes lay with the housekeeper and the maids, but she had been trained since her wedding night to only accept pleasure at her husband's bidding. The penalties for disobedience had been severe, depraved and darkly, shamefully wonderful...
"No!" Edmund said flatly.
Madame Silk paused in her intimate caress of Emma's young cunt and raised an eyebrow. "No?" she asked. "There can be no game without proof that she is capable."
"Very well," Edmund conceded. "But I shall do it."
With a sigh, Madame Silk pulled her fingers from Emma's pussy. She put her hands on her hips as she pursed her lips. "No," she drawled. "I think not."
"Ada then," Edmund insisted. "Or do you fear that your daughter's skill has surpassed your own."
Madame Silk snorted. "If you had not stolen her from me, then perhaps she would be a worthy rival... But I do not doubt that she has atrophied under your mundane attentions." She shrugged. "Oh, very well. Ada may perform the demonstration."
Emma blinked as the housekeeper gracefully slid before her. Ada's hand replaced her mother's, delicate fingers teasing and caressing her trembling pussy. How did this help? To cum she would still need to break Edmund's rules...
With her free hand, Ada pulled her mistress's head down and forward and kissed her deeply. Emma's eyes widened as a familiar taste flooded her mouth. The housekeeper had been holding Edmund's seed in her cheeks since the waiting room and now her tongue was gifting his salty cream to his wife. Emma moan
ed softly as Ada's hand caressed between her legs, sparks surging through her womanhood. A massive load of her husband's cum now filled her cheeks. Did this count? She glanced up through tearing eyes. Edmund nodded, almost imperceptibly.
Her legs wobbling with relief, Emma fell into her pleasure as she had so many times at Ada's touch. The housekeeper held the kiss until Emma had swallowed every trace of Edmund's salty seed. Then she pulled back to let the young lady's shuddering, wordless cry echo through the room. Emma's eyes screwed closed. Her jaw hung slack, her bottom lip trembling, as the dancing fingers elicited that lightning surge through her quivering body. She swooned. If her husband hadn't caught her, she would have fainted dead against the floor.
"Enough?" Edmund asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Indeed," Madame Silk purred. "She will make an excellent contestant and, I am sure, a very popular loser." She chuckled, circling back behind her desk. She took a quill, dipped it in the ink pot and signed both parchments with a flourish. "The game will be this Friday at the usual time. Acceptable?"
Edmund nodded. In his arms, Emma blinked, panting from her orgasm. So soon? That gave her barely two days to prepare...
"And..." Madame Silk continued. "Your wife will, of course, be my guest until then."
Emma stiffened. What? She felt the arms cradling her tense as her husband frowned. "You presume too much," he growled.
Madame Silk sneered. "I presume only that you are desperate, my lord. Who knows what you might be tempted to do in the meantime. Your wife shall remain with me for her own protection. You have my word that she will be treated with dignity and respect until your return. There can be no agreement without this condition."
Preposterous! Emma blinked, her face going red in outrage. She would not be staying here... not in this place of disrepute. Edmund would never concede to such an absurd demand!
But her husband carried her to a chair and gently deposited her on its ample cushions. She gaped as he crossed to the desk and took the quill.
"Very well," he said softly as he signed the contracts.
♠
The knock at the door was polite, but insistent. Emma looked up, apprehensive yet hopeful for an end to the tedium. It was late in the afternoon of first full day of her... well... gilded captivity was probably the best phrase. The guest room she'd been shown to was spacious, clean and comfortable. She had a luxurious four post bed and a soft settee to lounge on. A cord summoned a servant with commendable speed. All her physical needs were immediately accommodated. But for someone held hostage above a notorious den of ill repute, Emma was distinctly bored. There was little to do except examine the art on the walls and the books on the shelves. In other circumstances that might have been enough. But here everything hued closely to a single genre. The paintings and sculptures all depicted lewd and depraved acts. The books all described in great detail the most sordid of activities. The variety on offer was both breathtaking and eye opening, but, with release forbidden to her by her husband's rules, to partake was to invite frustration. Besides, Emma was fairly certain she was being watched.
"Come in," she called out from the sedan.
The door opened and Madame Silk entered, gliding smoothly and gracefully in a exquisitely designed evening dress tailored to the height of the current fashion—and just gaudy enough to distract from the imperfections in her beauty.
"Good evening, my dear," she purred.
Emma nodded politely, "Good evening."
"Do you have everything you desire?" the older woman asked. "Would you care for a cup of tea? Or would you like to have your arsehole licked? I could summon Thomas. He is very good at that."
Despite herself, Emma flinched at the vulgarity. Madame Silk's dark gaze was heavy upon her. She was suddenly certain that the fleeting expression that had crossed her face had conveyed an entire treatise on the workings of her soul. Emma was actually rather partial to having her arsehole kissed. A couple of Edmund's maids excelled at that foul act. But Thomas was the man with the scarred face... the thought of him—or indeed, any man—gently lapping at the flower in the heart of her delicate posterior hardly appealed. She was also sure that Madame Silk had divined as much in a single instant.
"No, thank you," she replied politely. "I am very comfortable."
"I could summon a maid instead," Madame Silk. "Young Daisy has a very long tongue and exceptional talent. She must be tried to be believed."
This time Emma tried to keep her face straight, but she doubted her effort was enough. "You are most kind," she said flatly. "But I must decline."
Madame Silk paused for a moment, then crossed the room to take her seat in a high backed armchair.
"I am curious," she admitted as if confessing. "Why did your husband choose you? He could have had any girl..."
Emma said nothing under the older woman's assessing gaze.
"You do not seem overly dull witted ," Madame Silk continued. "You must have realized that he married you for this purpose. But why you? He must have known your predilections ... and how they would make you vulnerable. Was it just that he wished to make the bait irresistible?"
Again Emma remained wordless. She'd wondered about his choice many times. She'd had little say herself in the marriage... or in her training. But she did have a guess for why he'd gone for someone of her preferences. If Emma was the bait for Madame Silk, Ada had been the bait for her.
"Has he explained the game?" Madame Silk asked abruptly.
Emma nodded. He had. It was simple. For thirty minutes she must submit to Madame Silk's attentions—no matter what they were—on the main stage and in full view of the club's patrons. To win, all she had to do was not cum. Before her marriage it would have sounded easy... but now she knew all too well what Ada and her husband's maids could do. Edmund had been training her for this task since her wedding night. She'd felt first hand what Madame Silk's fingers were capable of. Half and hour on that stage might feel like an eternity.
"Has he told you the stakes?"
She hesitated too long before nodding, revealing the lie.
Madame Silk snorted. "So, my dear," she purred. "He has told you that the loser is given to the audience to do with as they wish?"
Emma tried to sit stone-faced, but couldn't stop a flinch crossing her face. No. Edmund had not mentioned that part.
"You will draw quite the crowd. A young woman of good breeding and proven fertility. Every man there will imagine that his will be the seed that quickens in your womb." Madame Silk smiled. "But do not worry, my dear. They will all be rooting for you. Each of them is desperately waiting for the day I fail... " Her grin was predatory. "I never have..."
"Scores of girls have come before you," she continued softly. "A gross and more. All thought they would be the one to win the prize, to claim whatever boon it was that they desired of me. All left dirty and defiled, many with bastards in their bellies."
She paused and looked at Emma askew. "Do you even know what prize you are playing for?"
Emma nodded. Edmund hadn't told her, but she had guessed. Few things could drive men to the extremes her husband had gone to to set this up. A dying wish from a lover was one. But she could only think of one thing that Ada would want that was worth setting all this in motion. While the details were shrouded in mystery, Emma could certainly understand the housekeeper's motivations. She was a mother herself.
"Her name is Madeline," Madame Silk said softly. "Would you like to see her?" Without waiting for an answer, she removed a small locket from around her neck and tossed it across.
Emma caught it without thinking. It was simple and plain, brass instead of silver or gold... But then, she imagined the treasure of value was within. She opened it. The artist had been talented. The girl must have been six or seven. But the painting captured her youthful vitality and the light shining in her eyes. Her heritage was obvious. Emma could see hints of her husband... but the child was unmistakably Ada's daughter. Her mother's grace and beauty were latent in her
bud, just waiting to blossom.
"There is a pleasing symmetry to all this," Madame Silk drawled in her low honeyed tones. "He took my daughter from me, so I took his. Ada was to be my heir. She would have become the mistress of everything I have built. But instead she chose the love of a wastrel rake... a worthless man made important by birth and misfortune."
The last words were almost spat from between gritted teeth. Old wounds were bleeding again. Madame Silk paused, then caught and controlled herself. "No matter," she finished. "My granddaughter can inherit instead."
Ada had done more than simply chose Edmund, Emma suspected. She'd fled her own damnation. While the housekeeper's current life was certainly not pious, Emma suspected what went on between these walls could quickly and surely corrode a soul. Now Ada wished the same meagre salvation for her daughter.
"Why?" Madame Silk asked.
Emma inclined her head. "Why what?"
"Why would you do this? Why are you surrendering your honor for your husband's bastard? The child is a symbol that he loves another in a way that he never will you."
And the daughter of a woman she would love in a way she never could her husband... Emma thought, but did not say. In truth, she was not sure that would be reason enough. She had considered this at length on the long ride down to London. If she competed, Edmund had promised to change the rules whether she won or lost... that too, in and of itself, was not enough.
"Why?" she replied, in turn.
Madame Silk narrowed her eyes. "Why what?"
"Why does Edmund not simply take his daughter back?" Emma asked. "He is a great lord. You... you are a glorified whore."
To her surprise, Madame Silk laughed. "You think he has not tried? It is difficult to take what you cannot find." She grinned, showing teeth. "And even if he could find her, my dear. Well... you sell me short. I am not just a glorified whore, girl. I am exulted! Unparalleled. I have been a whore to princes, sultans and queens, generals and ministers, cardinals and bishops. I supply the the great and powerful with whatever vice and sin their dark hearts desire. I know secrets that would turn your hair white. One whisper from me and your husband would be torn to pieces."