Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

LIZZIE

T he green room was actually a massive conservatory linked to the main house by a long glass walkway. I couldn't hide an exclamation of wonder as we crossed the threshold. It truly was magnificent. I felt as though I were stepping into Eden. A heavy steel frame secured large panels of glass leading up to a massive dome ceiling. Large lush palm trees towered over us from every corner. Under their shade was every type of flower and fruit tree including orange trees, pink camellias, purple Canterbury bells, blood-red dahlias. There were even gigantic water lilies, lilacs, and myrtles.

Shifting patterns of crimson, amber, cobalt, and purple colored the black and white floor tile. As I looked around me, I could see my allusion to Eden was not far off the mark. Impressive panels of stained glass depicted the Genesis story of Adam and Eve. My favorite was the one of Satan in the form of a snake seducing Eve. His sinewy body seemed to shimmer with emerald and gold in the warm sunlight as it wrapped around Eve's small waist only to curl up around one breast. The image was both sinister and sensual at once.

Sparing a glance under my lashes at Richard, I definitely knew how Eve must have felt in that moment.

It certainly didn't help that he had the Devil's own good looks and his arrogant charm as well. Lord knew Richard was acting as if he weren't sweating heaven and truly didn't give a damn. The world was his for the taking, including me.

In the center of the domed room was a fountain depicting three naked women, holding jugs of spilling water over their heads. They were painted a bright turquoise blue. Wrought iron chaises and chairs, piled high with cushions, were strategically placed throughout the space both out in the open and in quiet corners under the shade of a palm surrounded by orchids.

The air was rich with the scent of citrus, spice, and earth. Between the somnolent atmosphere and the rhythmic lull of the trickling water, I could see myself enjoying many lazy afternoons in the space. Perhaps I had?

The idea was both unsettling and comforting. I could see the draw in losing myself in the fantasy. Of spending indolent days waking up to hot chocolate served on silver, wearing beautiful gowns, and napping under the shade of an indoor palm surrounded by the scent of flowers.

If this hadn't been my life before… it was now, or at least could be if I just surrendered and allowed the insanity to become my reality.

As I tried to wrap my mind around the possibility, a small easel caught my attention. It was set up in a particularly well-lit area of the conservatory. Circling around the stretched-out spindle legs, I was shocked to see my own drawings. Reaching out, I flipped through page after page. Each one was one of my fashion designs. Instead of colored pencils I've always favored watercolors to highlight the drawings. The paint seemed to capture the look of my Victorian-themed designs best. Stunned, I looked down at the table set near the easel. The tips of my fingers skimmed over the various pencils, brushes, and small squares of pigment. Each were as familiar as my own hand. These were my paints and tools. But how?

"Your governess could never get you to draw flowers or landscapes like a proper lady. You have always insisted on designing your own gowns," said Richard. There was no denying the pride in his voice. "I'm pleased you feel well enough to return to them. I can now keep my promise."

I turned back to him. "Your promise?"

He stroked my cheek. "Don't you remember? I promised if you were a good girl and obeyed the doctors and got better, I would bring in a dressmaker to make all of your designs a reality."

All of my designs?

That was a fashion designer's dream, one I never thought would ever truly be a reality. For starters, I had always preferred historical fashions that were far too expensive to ever recreate in true form.

I looked back at the easel.

All of my designs.

A life of leisure being the pampered plaything of a rich man.

I was slowly losing my grip on what I used to think was my reality. I was having a difficult time thinking of a reason why I wanted to return to my cramped little shared flat in London so badly. The only reason why I had become an actress was to lose myself in the fantasy of living in the past and here I was doing just that. Becoming a fashion student was just an extension of that secret wish. A tool of my imagination to help make it feel more real. As if putting on a corset and bustle would help block out the sounds of police sirens, ringing cell phones, and all the other noises of modern life.

Here on this estate it was luxurious and peaceful… well, at least when Richard wasn't standing so close to me.

No! Stop it.

Just like Eve, I was allowing the snake to seduce me into believing what was not true. This wasn't my life and never could be. Here, I was a caged bird. I had to stop giving in to the allure that this life was somehow better or more real than my own.

Grabbing the drawings off the easel, I ripped them in half and then tore them again, tossing the tattered pieces onto the floor. I then flipped the small table, sending the various paints and pencils scattering across the tile.

The only sound in the conservatory was the whirring sound of a small glass of paint water as it skittered across the floor before coming to a stop at the base of the fountain.

Then all was quiet… until… I heard it.

Holding my breath, I turned my head slightly and looked down. It was the sound of leather hitting fabric. Richard was slapping his riding crop against his thigh with barely leashed anger.

Oh, God.

"I see you have not given up your fits of temper."

"Richard, I?—"

Richard grabbed me by the upper arm and dragged me across the conservatory to a dark corner far from the walkway entrance. There was a high-backed wrought iron sofa covered in thick blankets with several large pillows on it. Swinging me by my arm, Richard tossed me onto the sofa.

I sat there sprawled as he began to pace in front of me.

"I have given you every luxury, every advantage. Indulged your every whim and yet you continue to defy me, Elizabeth." He punctuated each curt word with a slap of his riding crop against his lower leg.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to. I'm just confused."

At that moment, I truly meant it. I didn't know what was real or not, I only knew that I was afraid.

Richard turned back to me. Studying me with those dark, fathomless eyes of his.

"Unbutton your bodice."

"What?"

"You heard me. Unbutton your bodice."

"Please, I?—"

Placing his booted feet on either side of my legs, he placed the leather tongue of the riding crop under my chin and forced my head back. "Don't make me hurt you more than I already will," he warned softly. With that he stroked my jaw and cheek with the leather flap, his threat unmistakable. With one flick of that crop he could scar my face for life.

Without lowering my gaze, I reached for the fabric-covered buttons of my bodice. With shaking fingers, I fumbled with each one. After an eternity, the bodice gaped open, exposing the curved tops of my breasts.

Letting the riding crop dangle from his wrist, Richard leaned over me. Grasping the shoulders of my bodice, he forced the sleeves down over my arms till they tightened at the forearm. Since I had only unbuttoned half of them, the bodice was still clasped around my waist securing my arms as tightly as if it were a straitjacket. The downward movement had also shifted my corset down only slightly but just enough to expose the pink flesh of my nipples.

With shaking breath, I watched as he slowly undid his cravat. Stretching the long, thin linen strip between his fists, he circled around the sofa till he was standing over me from behind. My breath was coming in such fast gasps I felt faint.

His arms appeared on either side of my head, holding the linen strip in front of me.

Was he about to blindfold me?

Before I could decide if that was a good or bad thing, I felt the press of the linen against my throat. Immediately I tried to spring up from my seat but couldn't. The linen tightened, cutting off my air. I tried to scream but nothing came out. Desperately I pulled at my arms but they were hopelessly tangled in the tight sleeves of the bodice.

The linen tightened around my throat. My mouth gaped on a silent scream as my head pressed against the wrought iron sofa back trying to ease the tension of the fabric. Then some of the pressure on my throat eased but did not fully let up. I tried to move away but couldn't.

Richard once more appeared before me.

He had secured his cravat around my throat and through the intricate lattice of the wrought iron sofa behind my head. I was now completely tied down and at his mercy. Worse, my struggles had forced my corset to shift even lower, now fully exposing my erect nipples.

"As your guardian, it is my duty to punish you as I feel fit."

Grasping the riding crop once more, he raised his arm.

My eyes widened in alarm. "No!" My scream coming out only as a weak croak.

The riding crop came down with full force on my right nipple. The shooting pain was agony. Worse than anything I had ever felt before. It seemed to radiate in waves over my entire body. Before I could recover, he struck my other nipple.

"Please! Stop!" I sobbed as I tried to curl my shoulders forward in a vain attempt to shield my vulnerable flesh from his punishment.

Richard's response was to once more strike my right nipple with the leather tongue of the riding crop then swiftly strike the left.

My breasts throbbed with pain. Straining to look down, I was shocked to see I wasn't bleeding for I was certain he had torn my skin to shreds.

Kicking a small ottoman over to me, he sat down. He was now almost level with me. Without taking his eyes off me, he slowly started to grab fistfuls of my dress and raise it up. Inch by inch, he was exposing more of my body to his gaze. First my calves, then the tops of my thighs. Running his palm down my leg, he placed his fingers around my ankle and lifted it high, placing my booted heel on the edge of the sofa. He did the same with my other ankle.

It was an uncomfortable position that forced my hips forward and spread my legs painfully wide. Finally, he flipped my skirts up around my waist, completely revealing the large slit in my pantalets.

I gasped as I felt his fingers on my pussy. Miserable, I shook my head side to side as far as the cravat around my throat would allow. Not again. No. I didn't want him to force my body to betray me. It was humiliating the way it responded to his painful touch and punishments. I knew without even seeing his raised eyebrow that he would find me wet and ready for his touch.

Slowly he penetrated me with one finger, then another. He thrust them in and out several times while his thumb swept over my clit, stimulating the small bundle of nerves. Then he slipped in a third finger. It started to feel tight and full, my body stretching to accommodate him. I could feel his fingers twist as he shifted his hand, palm upright. He then pushed a fourth finger inside of me.

"Please! That hurts!"

"It's supposed to hurt," was his curt reply.

I bit my lip as he stretched my body beyond its limits. Still he continued to rub his thumb in slow, rhythmic circles. I could feel the pressure of a traitorous release as it began to build. After several pulsating thrusts, his fingers left my body. I let out a breath of relief but it was short-lived.

Soon I felt something hard and rigid enter me. "What are you doing?"

Richard didn't answer. The hard object pressed in deeper and deeper. It felt like the same width and length of a cock but was harder and more painful. It was only after he had pumped the object ruthlessly into my unwilling body several times that I realized it was the leather handle of his riding crop. A tremor ran over my limbs at the illicit thought. All of this was so wrong, I had no idea it was about to get far, far worse.

After he slipped the handle free, I then felt pressure at my back entrance.

"Now it's time for your real punishment."

"No! I've never done that! I don't want to."

"This isn't about what you want, Elizabeth. This is about what you need."

The pressure increased. I squeezed my anal muscles tight, trying to keep him out. He pushed on the handle that much harder till my body relented.

There was a sharp stabbing pain the moment the tip of the handle penetrated my ass.

"No! You can't! It's big. It hurts."

I could feel him twist the handle as he pushed in another inch.

My body bowed, the movement tightening the cravat and cutting off my air supply. With a cry, I leaned back.

"Tell me what this feels like."

"It hurts," I whined.

"How does it hurt, my love."

My stomach began to cramp as he pushed the handle in yet another inch. My inner muscles clenched and unclenched as my body adjusted to the sinful intrusion. I could feel everything right down to the sewn ridges of the leather handle.

"It feels like you are driving a pole into my organs."

He twisted the handle.

I cried out. "No more! Stop."

"Your body can endure more than you think. This little asshole has barely swallowed five inches, you still have another five to go."

"No, no, no, no," I whimpered.

My body jolted as if struck when he gave the handle a vicious thrust, pushing it in several inches at once. The pain was unbearable. The burning pain in my nipples was forgotten as the grasping, clawing agony of having my ass violated by this long, hard object began to take root.

"That's it. Be a good girl and take the whole handle. You're almost there."

I felt a strange, twisted sense of pride at his words. As if allowing him to fuck my ass with the whole length of his riding crop handle was some sort of accomplishment on my part.

My stomach twisted as another cramp hit as he pressed in deep.

"Good girl. Your tiny ass swallowed the whole handle. I truly wish you could see what a magnificent sight you make with your legs spread like the wanton harlot you are. Your tiny bottom stretched obscenely wide from the black leather handle of my crop."

I felt the caress of his fingertip against the puckered ridge of my entrance.

"Your soft pink skin turned a pale white as it stretches and strains to accommodate the width. It truly is a beautiful sight. Perhaps this will be the next portrait we have painted of you?"

I knew his question didn't need a response just as surely as I knew if that was what he wanted then against my wishes sometime in the future I might find myself with this riding crop dangling from my ass as I posed for a complete stranger to paint me.

"Is it over now?" I asked weakly. I could feel a bead of sweat trickle down my back between my shoulders blades as my overly heated body strained to bear his punishment.

"Not even close. This is just stretching your ass. Now I need to fuck it with my crop."

I started to cry as I felt Richard pull the handle almost completely free of my body only to violently thrust it back in deep. Over and over again.

"Who are you?"

"Lizzie," I answered without thinking.

He thrust with the handle even harder.

"Who are you?"

"Elizabeth!"

"Who?"

"Lady Elizabeth."

"Who?" he ground out.

"Your ward."

"That's right. You're mine."

As waves of pain racked my body, he then did the unthinkable. He began to again stroke my clit. Slowly and methodically he matched the swirling rhythm of his thumb with the vicious pumps of the riding crop handle.

My body began to respond to the sick and twisted mix of pleasurable pain.

Since he had only used my own arousal to initially lubricate the handle, it began to get dry, only increasing my pain as the leather scraped against my delicate insides.

The uptick in pain pushed me over the edge. My body bent in half as I started to come. I leaned forward, purposefully tightening the cravat around my own throat. The handle pressed in deep. My breath stolen. My eyes rolled back as white stars burst behind my lids. The threat of death blending with pain and arousal threw me completely over the edge. Despite the binds around my neck, I screamed and screamed my hated release with the last vestiges of breath left in my body.

Then there was only darkness.