Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Get ready quick.

We shan’t be late.

Arrive by the tenth, knock at the usual gate.

XX,

H

H elena disliked the third red letter that was now a pile of embers and ashes below the fire. It was short. Vague. No instructions on how to dress or prepare herself other than to be there by ten. She waited for the tenth toll of the bell to knock upon the gate and begin her third lesson.

“Always so punctual,” Morgan praised, swinging open the old gate. He smirked down at her, his dark eyes glittering with excitement.

“Is that not what you wanted?” Helena snapped. She had been short-tempered ever since she had received his brief summons. She had spent the last two days in peace prior to receiving the missive. Following the last ball, Ambrose had given her a reprieve from her husband search. Her mind had welcomed the freedom to repeatedly replay her night at the ball with Morgan.

“Such a fierce little kitten this evening,” Morgan chuckled.

Helena was about to retort with a sharp comment when she suddenly felt his hand snake around the back of her neck and turn her into his arms.

“I had something else planned for tonight,” he mused, switching his hold to the front of her throat, “but if I need to make this evening more about the study of punishment, I will happily change our itinerary.”

Curiosity and humiliation flooded Helena’s features as she listened to the way Morgan had darkly and suggestively enunciated the word punishment . What could he possibly mean by punishment? Morgan’s eyes raced across her face, reading her every tell, and he smirked at her as his fingers stroked the column of her throat.

“Ohh,” he purred, stepping closer. “You are curious, are you not, my little one?”

Helena began to tremble as Morgan gently pulled her towards him and began depositing light kisses on her temple.

“What could that word mean to you? How does it feel to you?” he whispered seductively, his lips traveling to hers.

Helena closed her eyes as his tongue licked delicately at her earlobe and his teeth nibbled at the flesh. She sank into the hold Morgan had on her, and let her head tilt back as his kisses continued down her neck. Suddenly he pulled back, releasing her, and Helena stumbled as she felt the cool night air occupy the space where he had just been. She glared at him as he chuckled.

“You gave me no indication what you had planned tonight,” she bit out, “That is why I am out of sorts. I had no idea how to dress or how to prepare myself.”

“You do yearn for the instruction, do you not, little one?” Morgan interrupted, his tone thoughtful.

Helena felt her cheeks heat at his question and the sound of her pet name. She liked it when he called her Persephone, but something warm and delicious bloomed in her lower belly when he called her little one .

“When you do so in your own particular way, yes,” she confessed, taking a step away from him.

Before she could get any farther Morgan’s arms were around her, his hand once more laced around her throat.

“Do not be ashamed of that. It is good for me to know,” he coaxed, staring intently into her eyes. “That means I am leading you properly.”

He then leaned down and kissed her softly on her lips, immediately dispelling all of her agitation.

“Come,” he commanded, tracing his hand from her throat to her fingers. “Let us get you inside. We must be quick, but I will explain while you change.”

Change? Helena thought, as excitement shooed away the last of her querulous disposition. Once inside Morgan’s library, he quickly led her over to the fireplace, then moved over to a large box that rested on the table.

Helena gasped as she watched him lift an exquisite, black-beaded, floor-length gown from it and bring it to her. It reminded her of her black nightgown, but the embroidery had been created with much finer silk, and there were no sleeves. Instead, straps hung from the top of the gown, which dipped into a low V at the front and back. The beads, glittering little jewels that caught the light and refracted it, were sewn into a reflected hourglass design.

“Tonight we are not carrying out our lesson here,” Morgan explained calmly as he stopped just a few paces away from Helena.

“Now, take off that lovely pink gown for me.”

Helena blushed, feeling the familiar scurry of shame and excitement, but obeyed his command and removed her cloak.

“Where are we going then?” She asked as she undressed.

Morgan waited until she stood naked before him to answer. Even then, he took in a long, possessive look before he did so.

“I am taking you to a Devil’s Masquerade. Arms up.”

Helena’s eyes grew wide with surprise as she raised her arms. In truth, she had completely forgotten about her night with Teresa and had lost all interest in going back. What she had found with Morgan was far more satisfying.

Morgan lifted the dress up high and slowly lowered it down Helena’s body, smoothing the thin, beaded fabric over every dip and curve.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, tugging the dress this way and that until it fitted perfectly over her form.

For a moment, Helena became lost in the freedom of being cared for. She did not move as Morgan took control of her needs. She stayed still for him, fascinated, as he took her hair out of its clasp and loosely braided her curls into a long tail.

“How do you know how to do this?” she asked, fascinated by how expertly he weaved the strands.

“I do not do this for every woman,” he stated matter-of-factly. “The trysts most women and I find ourselves in are usually brief. But there have been instances where I have trained for a longer dynamic — and, in such cases, a Dominus must be able to take care of every detail for his Submissus.”

“Why is that?” Helena asked curiously, familiar with the two Latin words from her books.

Morgan stepped away a pace and smiled seductively. “Because a true Dominus can turn his Submissus’s mind into a melted concoction of primal need until they cannot make even the most basic decision for themselves.”

Helena blushed at his taunting tone and alluring words as he walked back to the box and retrieved a black, glittering fox mask and a thin, wide leather-bound box. Was he going to make her feel that way at the party? In front of others? Suddenly, she was no longer interested in going to the Devil’s Masquerade.

“What if I do not wish to go?” she asked as he carefully placed the mask over her eyes.

“Tell me why you do not want to go and we will discuss it,” Morgan answered calmly, tying the mask into place.

Because I do not want to be with another man. Not yet.

They had discussed the specifics of her list during her first lesson, and Morgan had not blinked an eye when she brought up the possibility of being kissed by two men at once. But right now she did not relish the idea. Even if Morgan was one of them.

“Well, what will we be doing there?” she inquired

Morgan smirked as he opened the leather-bound box and pulled out a thick, black, velvet choker with a large teardrop diamond dangling from its hem. Helena gasped at the beauty of it.

“Are you mine?” he asked, his gaze holding hers.

Helena struggled to swallow. She knew he only meant for the night, but still her mind ventured a tad further. Keeping that part to herself, she nodded.

“Just yours,” she managed to breathe.

Morgan gave her a look of pure approval as he walked toward her with the collar.

“Tonight you will be my pet,” he continued in his calm, even tone as he secured the choker around her throat.

Helena whimpered as he pulled it tight and felt a lick of desire between her inner thighs.

“You will only address me as sir. You will obey my commands, stay by my side, and you will not speak to anyone but me,” Morgan continued, listing his rules as he pulled out two matching black velvet bracelets.

“We will primarily be viewers tonight, but Helena, you will be seen, and you will be noticed. The way you appear at my side like this — it will be inevitable that others will notice.”

Helena nodded once more, blushing at the truth of it. Even if they were to be viewers and not performers in the erotic aspect, people would see them together as they moved through the rooms. A chill of excitement raced over her shoulders as she thought of the curious eyes that would descend upon them.

I need you to hear me when I say this.”

Morgan stroked his thumb soothingly over her the bare part of her wrist and turned her chin to meet his gaze.

“No one else will touch you,” he urged calmly. “I swear it. And we will only show them what you want to show them.”

Helena’s blush grew brighter as she swallowed hard.

“I do not want to show them anything,” she rasped, feeling herself beginning to tremble. I want to watch the others. But if you and I… interact with one another , I want it to be in the privacy of our own room.”

Morgan gave her an approving smile as he cupped her cheeks and drew her mouth to his in a sweet kiss, erasing any misgivings Helena had harbored about giving him her answer.

“Very good, little one,” he praised against her lips. “I thought that was the answer, but I needed you to say it and support it for yourself. I always want the truth. People will see you. But I will not allow anyone to touch. I promise you.”

Helena swayed on her feet as Morgan pulled away to fasten the other bracelet to her wrist.

“What if I make I mistake?” she asked weakly. “What if I embarrass myself? Or you? I have not learned much yet. What if I…what if I disappoint you?”

Morgan looked at her reassuringly.

“That will not happen,” he promised, shaking his head. “You are incredible, Helena. You could never disappoint me. But, if you do not want to go and you want to take this off your list, tell me, and we will do something else. No offense taken.”

Again, Morgan had calmly left the choice in her hands. There was no hope or fear in his expression, just a steady, silent urge for her to tell him the truth.

“I want to go,” she said, and as she spoke she knew it was true. Despite her fears and inhibitions, she wanted to see what Morgan had in store for her.

Morgan smiled at her with satisfaction, and silence filled the room as he knelt to the floor with the box in hand and pulled out two matching anklets. As he fastened the final one, Morgan trailed his fingertips from her ankle, up the back of her calf, and up the back of her thigh until his hand cupped the milky skin of her firm buttocks.

Helena gasped with pleasure as he massaged his hand against her backside and pulled her waist towards his mouth.

“Are you ready?” Morgan rasped, flicking his tongue between the small openings of black beaded embroidery nestled over her warm mound.

“Yes,” Helena moaned, her knees already threatening to buckle.

“Yes, what?” Morgan rasped, running his tongue against her sex a second time, wetting the sheer fabric.

“Yes, sir. I am ready,” Helena breathed as she felt her body relax into Morgan’s hold.

With effort, Morgan pulled himself away from Helena, and then cloaked her in his warmest black fur cape. The dress was merely an ensemble of artful beading and silk string; it could not even be defined as a fabric and would provide no warmth during the carriage ride.

Once he had her nestled inside the carriage, he handed her a mirror and a small bag of cosmetics and asked her to paint her lips and eyelids black as she had done before. When she had finished, he took the dark rouge and rubbed it onto her cheeks until it was exactly the shade he desired.

Pleasure simmered in his loins as Helena relinquished her control to him. It was becoming much too addicting and he needed to snap himself out of it. That was what tonight was for. He needed to remind himself, as much as he needed to remind Helena, that she would someday soon be seen and wanted by another.

The dark specter of jealousy from earlier began to inhabit Morgan as the carriage pulled up to the newest location of the Devil’s Masquerade . He swallowed hard and did his best to push it away. They had built a fantasy world where Helena was his, but that was all it was. A fantasy. She would soon be another’s.

“Is everything all right?” Helena asked.

Morgan felt her soft fingers against his arm, and he forced himself to smile as he pulled on his black matte fox mask.

“Perfectly,” he replied, reaching into his jacket pocket. As he pulled out the silver chain and leather wristlet, Morgan’s thoughts blissfully shifted to something far more pleasurable, and his smile became genuine as he revealed the leash. A wicked pleasure consumed him as a greedy look of desire lit up Helena’s blue eyes.

“Now, come, little one, it is time for lesson three.”