“Yes,” I reply, not wanting to interrupt him.
“Well, yes, we hosted the scandalous parties, and the debauchery that went on there was decadent and entertaining, but really they were just a façade for what we really enjoyed.”
“A façade?” I say, my curiosity fit to burst. “A façade for what, Thomas?”
He looks down at me, his stare penetrating me as though it pierces my very soul. “A fascia designed to conceal what really thrilled us. Not the lavish spectacle or the voluptuous ladies, but the darker things…”
My heart is pounding in my chest as I answer him. “The spankings, and the bondage?” I ask with a squeak.
“As an appetiser, yes,” he says with a dark smile. “But our desires were much darker than that, and the balls gave us opportunity to select ladies who were willing to surrender to them.”
I am astounded at his admission, and for a long moment there is silence between us. He gazes at me, and although our eyes do not connect, I can feel the weight of his stare. “How long did this go on for?” I ask eventually.
“Many years,” he answers. “Until my father passed, and I inherited Markham. William and Helena wed a short time later, and after this we spent less time together. I began to grow the estate and manage the household the way I saw fit.”
“You started spanking the maids?” I say, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to slot together in my mind.
He nods. “Yes. Of course it was necessary to allow those who could not abide my changes to move on, and allow those who could work well within the new system to begin.”
“Like Lucy?” I say, the words really more of a statement than a question.
He smiles as he replies. “Precisely.”
“You have given all that up now though?” I say. “These darker events?”
“I have given up the structure of them,” he answers with a sigh. “But the desires are instinctive, Lydia, and I cannot live without them. That is why I run my home the way I do.” He pauses, his eyes drilling into my own as he goes on. “That is also the reason I was so drawn to you, my love. The first time I spanked you I knew I had to have you.”
His lips form into a smile as he recalls the event, and for a moment I join him, remembering my shame and indignation. He is right; that had been the moment—the start of my carnal awakening and my fascination with my new guardian.
“You most certainly have achieved that, My Lord,” I say.
He laughs, the sound loud and hearty. “Yes, you are right,” he chuckles. “I have, and I have relished every instance with you, my sweet thing. You have changed everything; you have given me purpose and direction.”
He draws his arms around me, holding me as though I am a most precious object. “Will you tell me which things you would still like to share?” I ask, my voice tentative and unsure.
“If you are open to the notion, my love, then I should like to show you instead?”
I shift my head to gaze upon him. “Show me?” I repeat.
“Mmmm… Back at Markham Hall. I have rooms which are designed for the purpose.”
This latest information sends me reeling, and I move completely, shifting to a seated position by his side. “Rooms, at Markham Hall?” I exclaim. “I have never seen anything of the sort.”
“Well, of course not,” he says, smiling up at me. “You have barely seen any of the place, but they are there. For my private use only of course. There are also similar pleasure rooms here at Cranningford…”
“I…” I stutter, aghast by the information. “I never knew.”
He smiles, frustratingly calm at my utter bewilderment. “Not many people do, my love,” he admits, “and I tell you only now because you are my wife, and I trust you implicitly.”
“Who else knows of these rooms, and what went on in them?” I ask, lowering myself to face him more easily. “Helena?”
He nods. “Yes,” he confirms. “William shared the rooms here with her after they married. As to others, all those who ventured inside were sworn to secrecy.”
“Who were they, Thomas?” I enquire. “Was there anyone special? Was this Lady Brooks one of them?” I know it is jealousy which rears in my voice, and yet somehow I am unable to control it.
He shifts his weight, eyeing me as he replies. “They were just lovers, Lydia. There was nobody special; there never was—until you…”
I reel at the news; the mental image of my husband involved in debauched acts with these unidentified lovers stirring peculiar emotions within me. “But if these ladies mean so little, how do you know they will keep your secret?”
His face is calm as he answers. “We had mutual understandings. Each comprehends my expectations, and each has sworn to comply.”
“And you trust them?” I enquire, my tone becoming increasingly indignant. I hear it in my voice, and I know that Thomas does too.
“In part,” he replies. “I consider that most have as much—or more—to lose than I do if they choose to divulge the secrets we share. Ladies, in particular, do not wish for their reputations to be tarnished.”
“Of course…” I whisper in a gasp, falling from my elbow, flat onto the bed below me. I take a moment to collect myself, considering his words. “Thank you for sharing the news with me,” I say with a sigh.
He leans in toward my body, his voice low and predatory. “I know that this is a scandal, my love,” he purrs, “but do not think your tone will be overlooked. One more outburst, and I will take you over my knee, do you understand?”
I swallow hard, the look in his eye sending energy bolting through my body. “Yes, My Lord,” I say in a hasty whisper.
His tone softens at my atonement. “So, then,” he continues, his gaze searing into my left cheek. “Will you allow me to show you?”
My breath quickens, and I turn my head slowly to meet his gaze. “I will do,” I reply. “When we return to Markham Hall?”
“When we return,” he confirms with a large smile. “In the meantime, I have a birthday to celebrate, do I not? It is not every day that a newly married gentleman turns twenty-nine years old…”
All at once he is over me, his long limbs mounting me, and then settling in between my outstretched legs.
“We have hours until the ball,” I reply, tipping my head to find his lips already grazing my jawline. “How would you like to celebrate now, My Lord?”
His face appears back into my eye-line again. “I should like to ravish you again,” he says, his warm breath vibrating over my skin. “I would like to claim you, and watch you unravel in front of me.”
I smile, watching the curve of his cheekbones as his face dips to kiss me. “You vowed to take every part of me today,” I whisper, my breathing erratic at my brazen thoughts. “Thus far you have claimed me here…” I take his wrist, and move his hand to the side of my mouth, “and here,” I continue, drawing the same hand down to the moisture between my legs. “Where else would you like to possess, My Lord?”
The smile on his face is devilish, and splinters the ball of energy within me. “Lydia,” he croons. “I just adore how bold you are becoming!”
I giggle, my eyes closing reflexively as his eager mouth nuzzles at my nape.
“Mmmm,” he purrs. “Let’s get you out of this soiled dress, and then you will submit to my every dark whim, my love…” He rises to his knees, already reaching my gown.
“Yes, My Lord,” I answer, blinking up at him. “I am yours…”
Chapter Forty-Five: Masquerade
Hours later the ball called in Thomas’ honour is in full swing. The assembled guests are a dazzling array of finery; expensive gowns and suits matched with jewels, feathers, and of course each accessorised with a glamourous-looking mask. My own gown, which Mrs. Pemberley had made so beautifully, is the talk of the party, as is my recent marriage to Thomas, whose birthday we are all here to celebrate.
I have been introduced to literally dozens of Thomas’ friends,
all of whom appear to be ecstatic to join us on his special day. The rooms at Cranningford are bright with candles, costume, and colour, each alive with an array of new faces and voices.
There is a light supper, before we move onto the music room to dance. Helena has organised a number of simply wonderful musicians; a pianist and two violinists, all of whom seek to entertain the invited ladies and gentlemen. There is a rather sensual game of blind man’s bluff, and as the wine flows, the invited tongues soon loosen. A collection of ladies in the far corner amuse themselves with laughter, and are soon joined by their host. Lord William swoons over them, accompanied by the glamour of his wife, whilst I sit close to Thomas on the over side of the room. I am thrilled to see my husband relaxed, and yet thoughts of the pleasure rooms to which he earlier confessed still press upon my mind. More than that, I cannot shake the image of him entwined with other ladies, perhaps even some who may be present at the ball this evening!
“What are you thinking?” he murmurs into my ear, clearly perplexed at my expression.
I have learned that it rarely pays to tell Thomas an untruth, and so I am resigned to be honest. “I was musing on our conversation earlier,” I begin. “Thinking of you with all of these anonymous ladies…”
He smiles, his expression wryly amused. “Your envious side is showing, my love,” he laughs.
“I admit it,” I say with a sigh. “I have no defence, apart from my great love for you, Thomas.”
He pulls me closer. “Do you wish to know of each of them?” he whispers under the melody from the strings across the room.
I shake my head. “No, My Lord,” I reply. “I am just imagining them, and how affected by you they must have been.”
He laughs again. “As I have told you, my love, there was no one serious; no promises and no betrothals.”
I snuggle against him, daring to graze his mouth with my lips. “For you perhaps,” I reply. “Yet I bet at least one of them harboured feelings for you?”
The look on his face is sardonic, and he dismisses my idea with a shake of the head. “There is only one woman who harbours feelings for me, my love,” he croons.
I giggle, relaxing at his answers, and pleased that we can speak of these things. There is a moment of silence as we sit close together, and observe the interactions of the guests around us. In the far corner, I watch as three of the younger ladies with Lord William begin to undress. Soon enough their fine-looking gowns pool at their ankles, their pert bosoms revealed, although their masks stay in place at their faces. I turn to my husband, who watches also from my right side. He looks astoundingly handsome in his party ensemble, his red mask perfectly complementing his new cravat, which he insisted upon wearing.
Seeing my interest, he leans into me again, planting a kiss at my lobe. “Things are just about to get exciting,” he whispers, his thumb running an invisible line down my naked back, above the cut of my gown. “Shall we stay and watch?”
I nod, breathless with fascination. The sight before me is remarkable, and as I survey it two unknown gentleman join the fray, stripping to the waists as they approach the ladies, three of whom are now fondling and caressing one another. I look closer, putting down my glass to give the scene my full attention, and it’s then that I notice Helena, bared in all her beautiful glory, as one of the gentlemen suckles on her large, round breasts.
“Helena!” I gasp in a whisper, turning back to Thomas. He shifts from his seat to stand behind me, his arms pulling me north as they snake across my body to hold me closer.
“She is beautiful,” he agrees, finishing his drink. “But her light can in no way hold a candle to you, my love.”
I twist my head to find his mouth, pushing myself back against his hard body. My behind and sex ache with need, and despite Thomas’ frequent use of them, it seems that I just cannot get enough.
We stand together, watching the show of nudity and pleasure unfold before us. It is surely the most indecent thing I have ever witnessed, and yet with Thomas pressing against me, all I can think about is their pleasure. Envy consumes me once more; not for the acts, or the participants, but for the joy each of them experiences. I want it for Thomas and myself, in our own private, sweet, and debased way.
As Helena falls softly to the rug below and takes the hard length at her lips into her mouth, I squirm at the passion playing out. Beside her Lord William takes one of the ladies over his knee, spanking her in a soft and playful way. At the same time, three other couples entwine, their bodies connecting in intimate ways and contorting into beautiful shapes. Their shadows, cast by the numerous candles lit around the room, mould together into a sensual show against the dark walls.
“Thomas…” His name leaves my lips, the sound desperate.
“Yes, my love,” he answers, his left hand massaging my breasts from within the confines of my new golden gown.
Something about the sight of the scene is overwhelming. I am stunned by the look of it, much less disgusted than I should be, and far more caught up in the web of fascination.
“This is too much to bear. How can one witness such things without getting caught up in the waves of carnality?” I twist to see him, pressing myself against his evident hardness.
“The task can indeed seem impossible,” he murmurs, staring down into my eyes. “You can either let the wave drown you, or you can ride it, my love. Which would you like to do?”
Acting on impulse alone, I lurch forward, nearly knocking the glass from his right hand. “I choose to ride it, My Lord…” My voice has taken on some unearthly, guttural sound, and I barely recognise it.
Thomas, clearly surprised at my proactivity, smiles as he regains his footing. He puts his wineglass down by the side of the dresser, and pulls me into a hard embrace. “Then ride it you shall,” he growls, the reverberations of his tone making me shiver with desire.
He kisses me, his lips hungry and aggressive as his tongue claims me in its trademark sensual style. “I do so adore you, Lady Markham,” he whispers, sliding his hands down to my tender bottom and pulling me up to his waist. I hook my legs around him instinctively, grinding my body against his throbbing organ which strains beneath the fabric of his breeches.
Behind me I can hear the groans of the fornication as it plays out. The sounds and scent of carnal love are everywhere, filling my ears and my nostrils as though I were in a dream. “Thomas, take me to bed—please,” I beseech him.
“Tired already, my love?” he teases, offering me a broad smile.
“I want you,” I say, breathless with the weight of the feelings which consume me. “It is ridiculous just how much I want you.”
“I know,” he smiles. “It is the same desire which I have held for you for so long. No matter how much I have of you, there can never be enough, Lydia. I can never have enough of you.”
He shifts from his place against the wall, carrying me with apparent ease to the door. The sounds of the thrusting and the groaning grow weaker as he strides across the hall, mounting the stairs two at a time in his pursuit of our bed. When we finally reach the bedroom I am frantic with desire; I need him inside me.
He lays me down, those beguiling eyes smiling as he strips his clothing, and throws the length of my skirt to one side, splaying my legs wide apart. “I hope,” he groans, sliding his now enormous hardness into my wet, empty core, “that every birthday can be as wonderful as this one, my love.”
Chapter Forty-Six: Dark Passions
We arrive back at Markham Hall late on the eleventh day of the month. The weather turned grey again the day after Thomas’ birthday, and the rain has not ceased since then. The damp, bleak outlook though does not reflect the mood in the carriage as we pull back into the grounds. There are the expected feelings of happiness which any couple returning from their bridal tour might experience, and yet there is something more—an unspoken anticipation about what is now to come.
I peer from the carriage window, surveying the architecture, a
nd marvelling at just how much this place has come to feel like my home. Gregory meets us from the carriage, updating Thomas on a number of matters which have arisen since the day of our wedding. The grounds, it seems, require some attention, and the countess had left a note for her son upon her departure some five days before now. He and Thomas go briefly to the study to discuss matters, and for one moment I am left alone to enjoy the splendour of Markham Hall. I breathe in the smell of the hallway, my head swimming with the many memories I have made at the place already. I pause to rest my eyes upon the impressive stairwell, feeling Thomas coming to stand behind me. I turn to acknowledge the oil lamp in his hand.
“Lady Markham will now reside in my chambers,” he instructs his butler. “Ask Lucy to move her important possessions there, although she may still use her old room as she chooses.”
“Very good, My Lord, My Lady,” replies Gregory, ushering the other staff away. “We shall leave you to get settled. Please call if you require a late supper, and I will inform the kitchen.”
Together we ascend the stairs in silence. Thomas leads, a step ahead of me as his right hand reaches back to clasp my palm. I know without asking where it is he is taking me. It is the place which has been on my mind since he revealed his dark secrets to me on the afternoon of his birthday; the pleasure rooms.
The labyrinth of corridors, to which I thought I had become acquainted, seems infinite, and in the end I resign myself to being lost. Just as I am compelled to enquire as to our whereabouts, we make a left onto a long hallway. Thomas holds the lamp aloft, and I see that there are three doors on either side, the end lit by a small, dark window.
“Is this it?” I ask, my nerves catching in my throat.
He nods, tightening his grip on my hand as he turns to me. “Behind each door is a room prepared for the types of play I have previously enjoyed. I do not want to overawe you, Lydia, but you are welcome to see them all—or less—if you prefer?”
Taming Lady Lydia Page 39