Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

RICHARD

W alking into the library, I headed straight for the crystal decanter displayed to the right of my desk. Pouring myself a generous cognac, I took a seat before the already stoked fire. Cupping the thin crystal globe in my palm, I lifted the glass high and watched the play of red and amber as the flames from the fire cast their glow on the swirling liquid.

When it was warmed by the heat of my hand, I took one long sip, relishing in the smooth bite as it slid down my throat.

Relaxing against the high-backed chair, I allowed myself a small smile.

Everything was going to plan.

Elizabeth was everything I could have hoped for and more. She was an intoxicating mix of spirit and submission. She had just enough spit and fire in her to keep me interested but equally so, submitted under my dominant hand when the time came.

Despite the burn of the brandy, I could still taste her on my lips, smell her on my skin. The idea she was at this very moment naked and restrained, under my complete control under my roof, had my cock once more thickening. I don't think I would ever get enough of the feel of her tight cunt as she squeezed my cock even as she protested my rough touch. Or the vibration of her screams along my shaft as I plunged it deep down her forced open throat.

She wasn't fooling me. She liked the game of pain and dominance just as much as I liked to play it. I couldn't wait to take this to the next level.

But first, there were a few loose ends I needed to handle.

To my left against the wall just out of reach was a long strip of heavy tapestry that ended in a large gold tassel. Leaning over, I grasped the tassel and gave it a sharp tug; within moments, my butler, Hutley, entered.

"Where is he?"

I didn't have to explain who I meant to Hutley. "Just outside, Your Grace. I figured you would want to speak with him." We were both talking about the footman who broke the rules and brought an item from the twenty-first century onto my property.

The only way this was going to work was if I fully submerged Elizabeth so deeply in the Victorian era there was nothing to confirm her suspicions that it might be otherwise. Hearing that ringtone set back my plans. It forced me to handle her more roughly than I would have liked this early in the plan. I had hoped to give her time to get used to the idea before using my more creative means of breaking down her mind and body for my purposes.

I nodded. "Send him in and summon Harris."

As far as the staff knew, Harris was my stable master. They had no idea he was actually my personal security, an enforcer. No one was more loyal or devoted to me than Harris. Rescuing a man from being tortured and beheaded by the Taliban will do that. They were right to want Harris dead. He was a sick sonofabitch who enjoyed violence for violence's sake, enough to alarm even the bloodthirsty Taliban against keeping him on this earth.

The footman entered. Disrespectfully, he immediately began speaking before having his presence acknowledged by me, as was protocol. I sat and listened as he launched into a pitiful tirade of excuses for his blatant disobedience. "Look. I'm really sorry. I forgot it was in my pocket. It won't happen again. I promise. It can't happen again. That Hutley guy took it from me. So, like I said, it won't happen again, I swear."

Giving the brandy a warming swirl, I took another sip, wanting to measure my words carefully. "Well, you are correct about that; it won't be happening ever again."

It took him a few moments to get my unstated meaning.

"Wait. Are you giving me the sack? What the hell? You can't do that! I need the money. I gave up my flat and sold my car to take this gig."

"You're shouting," I said calmly as I rose to refill my brandy. By then, Harris had quietly entered the room, keeping to the shadows as always.

"Sod off! You're damn right I'm shouting. You owe me! And you'll pay or I'm going to tell the police about what you got going on here."

Turning my attention back to the man, I asked, "And just what do you think is happening here?"

At that he floundered. "I don't know. But something is off. This is all supposed to be some kind of intense reality show with hidden cameras and all that other crap but that chick didn't seem to be in on the joke."

I raised an eyebrow. "That chick?"

"Yeah, you know… the stacked one with the wavy hair."

I felt a sudden sting against my palm. Looking down, I realized I had squeezed the glass so fiercely it shattered, piercing my palm with crystal shards and sending the fiery liquid cascading over the open wound. Looking down, I brushed at the jagged shards and blood as I tried to calm my rage. How dare he speak of Elizabeth… my Elizabeth in such disgusting terms.

"That chick happens to be my ward. A woman under my protection."

"Whatever, dude. I get it. The cameras are still rolling and you're keeping to character as the big bad duke but let's get serious here for a minute. Your ward as you call her has no idea what the fuck is going on, does she? And if you want to keep it that way, you're going to pay me the full contract and some extra for me to keep my mouth shut about whatever freaky shit you got going on."

In order to keep Elizabeth uncertain of her reality and somewhat off-balance, I decided to hire all the actors and staff from the play to be my servants. From the moment they auditioned for the play, they understood there was the possibility of a much more lucrative position on the horizon, but all were made to sign an extremely thorough and intimidating nondisclosure agreement, swearing under pains of high penalties and damages that they would mention the project to no one, not even each other. While money was always a great motivator, I also made sure to only choose actors who had a past they wanted to hide, something serious that would lead to jail time or a complete upheaval of their personal lives. Money was good. Blackmail was better.

My plan was pitched as a completely immersive, intense reality show. Where every moment was filmed through hidden cameras to capture the true Victorian experience in real time. They were instructed to never break character, even when technically off duty and on their own personal time. They were not allowed to leave the estate or interact with anyone from the outside for one full year. To be honest, I was a little surprised how many actors did not hesitate to take me up on my offer. A testament to the power of money.

While I hid Elizabeth in the asylum after spiriting her away from that party, I brought the staff in. Before even setting foot on the estate, they all congregated at a nearby hotel I had purchased, where they surrendered all of their own modern belongings including cell phones and computers.

All of this would have the added benefit of convincing Elizabeth that her actual memories were just figments of an overtaxed mind. Everyone would look familiar from her former life but she should also recall them from the character names and costumes in the play that they were also wearing now on the estate. Soon she would have a hard time distinguishing her own memories between what was the play, what was her former life, and what was her new reality.

"I understand you completely. If you'll follow Harris, he will take care of you."

The footman turned, surprised to learn there was another person in the room. Suddenly some of his bravado left him, probably after he caught sight of Harris' scarred face with its repeatedly broken nose.

Putting his hands up, he gave a nervous laugh. "Listen, we're all friends here, right? I mean, there are cameras everywhere and I'm sure some TV crew is watching so…" His voice drifted off as he gazed up into each of the dark corners of the room, probably searching for a telltale red blinking light.

There were no cameras, no crew.

"You're right. So, you have nothing to be concerned about," I intoned lightly as Harris caught my knowing glance. There wasn't a doubt in my mind Harris knew what my intentions were without my having to voice them.

I returned to my seat as Harris escorted the asshole out of my sight and off the property. Harris would be certain to put the fear of God… and worse, my retribution… in the man if he breathed a word of this to anyone.

Elizabeth was finally under my control.

I had planned too long for this day to let anything… or anyone… get in the way of what I wanted.

She was mine… and she would stay that way.