Page 23 of The Devil’s Submission

“You wish me to be in charge. To make decisions that will bring you great pleasure.”

“Please,” he said hoarsely. “Please.”

“Then get onto the bench, hands and knees, eyes down.”

Fascinated, Eliza watched as Charlotte strolled around the room like a queen while the gentleman settled himself on the bench. She was so sure of herself, her smile bright and her shoulders back, utterly unashamed of who she was…and in turn this man had been able to relax and share who he was, too.

“Can I…” said Eliza hesitantly. “Can I ask a question?”

“Certainly,” said Charlotte.

“Sir,” she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Do you like pain? I mean, does it bring you greater pleasure if you are whipped for example?”

The man turned his head, his smile gentle. “I like it very much, ma’am. It brings me astonishing clarity of mind, and I can let go of what troubles me. Then I can come. My only regret is not requesting time with Miss Charlotte earlier. Finding a lady who understands and is unafraid, no, not just unafraid but delights in her desires…is a miracle. I am most grateful.”

Eliza collapsed into a chair, her mind awhirl. But through that burst excitement. If she watched Charlotte carefully, she could learn how to proceed. How to revel in her own needs and desires, and in turn free Grayson to revel in his. To transform their marriage once and for all into a partnership where all sexual needs were met, and in a way that was safe and loving.

“Then please, Charlotte…sir…do begin.”

Charlotte circled the bench, one hand caressing the gentleman’s back and bottom. “Such beautiful skin. I do enjoy marking it. This evening you will count to ten for me, but you may not move or come without my permission.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The first few blows of the riding crop were light, barely leaving an imprint on the man’s hair-dusted thighs. But on the third, a slap hard enough to pinken the fleshy part of his bottom, he shivered. Charlotte paused, stepping away.

Oh my. A form of punishment. Charlotte didn’t say a word, nor was she unkind, but the act was unmistakable. And yet the man wasn’t angry or sad, only more visibly excited at this evidence that he did not control the situation.

When Charlotte continued she was harsher, blows four through seven turning her guest’s bottom bright red. His panting breaths were audible, his voice as he counted increasingly scratchy and raw, but true to his oath, he did not move.

“Milady,” said Charlotte, pausing to rotate her wrist. “You’ll note how I do not hit the same spot twice. Nor do I aim for the tailbone or lower back. This is discipline, not abuse; I have no desire to cause injury.”

“You are very skilled,” Eliza replied softly, transfixed and more than a little aroused.

The eighth and ninth blows raised welts, and the gentleman sobbed as he counted. But his engorged cock bobbed against his stomach, the head glistening with pre-come, while the muscles in his forearms and thighs strained with the effort of remaining still.

Finally, Charlotte landed the last blow, a ferocious strike that broke the skin and brought a thin trail of blood to the surface. The man’s “ten” was a guttural cry of ecstasy, and when Charlotte raised him from the bench so he knelt, slid her hand around his cock and ordered him to come, he coated the bench with his seed, his head thrown back to reveal tearstained cheeks and a smile so joyful, so serene, it almost felt too personal and private to watch.

“That was perfect, my lovely,” murmured Charlotte, as she cuddled the man against her and stroked his hair. “Now, how do you show gratitude?”

Moaning, the gentleman pressed his face between Charlotte’s legs, eagerly lapping her pussy and professing his thanks over and over.

Stumbling to her feet, her own pussy so wet and throbbing she could scarcely bear it, Eliza raised her hand in farewell. The other woman smiled knowingly and waved her away.

Back in the hallway, Eliza slumped against the cool wall, her heart pounding. The thought had been there for a while, and only strengthened this morning in the office with Grayson. But after that erotic demonstration, she knew without a doubt that false, timid, proper Eliza could never exist again.

For Grayson’s fulfillment, she would gift him the pain-infused pleasure he needed.

And in turn, she would finally be free.

Chapter Six

Construction for the Midsummer Night festivities was progressing beautifully. But even the secondary ballroom—usually the home of the pirate ship—being transformed into an enchanted forest couldn’t improve his mood.

Devil inhaled heavily, trying not to notice how the red, orange, and gold silk-draped wood pretending to be a bonfire resembled Eliza’s hair. How the silver urns reminded him of the flecks in her eyes. And he failed utterly.

His wife had listened all too well when he’d stupidly turned away from her comfort and told her to leave. He’d barely seen her for days, not even in his office, and any moment he expected her to announce the next carriage outing would be her returning to Lincolnshire permanently.

“Dev. Dev!” bellowed Vice from behind him. “You have a visitor, thank God, so you can get the fuck out from under my feet.”