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Not one spectator, not even Mountbane moved a muscle until the imperious leather-clad woman had left the room.
“How do you feel now, my bride?” Mountbane addressed his wife as he gazed down at her blank face.
“I am fine, sir,” she replied evenly. And this was the truth. At this moment, she didn’t give a fair farthing what the man said, or did with her. Despite this great degradation, she had her victory, her bliss. He couldn’t take that from her. No man, or mistress, or abuse could devastate her fully. It was in her character to love such surrender.
These were Charlotte’s thoughts at the completion of her trial with Gwnyth. She knew she’d survived the moment well. Even bested by the mistress, she would not be broken. But then, she had not suffered her entire punishment.
She should have been wary. Tuned as she was to her husband’s clever schemes, she should have known that this one evening would not be enough to assuage his rage and dispense with his revenge. But as she recovered from the whip, the fists, and the intense humiliation, she was much too weary to predict the further outcome. And even when it came, its cruelty was not immediately apparent.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlotte lay on her pallet in the tower room, letting thoughts of the evening before swim through her mind. Those that were pleasant she allowed to ripen inside her body where they raised her physical heat and brought on crashing climaxes. One orgasm after another, her body seemed insatiable. When she tired of her recollections, she remembered Tristan, finding her pleasure expanding again in a melancholy way as she thought of the lover now lost to her.
Had Mountbane killed him? That would have been his method,
but there was no way to determine his fate. Her best resource was to think of the absent Tristan and let his presence within her bring her pleasure—even though she’d never know the physical joy of him again. As much as she relished her thoughts of him, however, dwelling on Tristan could be a dangerous pastime. One minute her body would leap with joy, and then next, it would come crashing down in frightened tears.
There was so little to live for in her tower room: no flowers and fragrance, no companionship, no Tristan, not hardly a bite of food. There was just the sex, her masturbations and her incessant sexual thoughts.
Two days after the fisting contest, the tower door was opened by one of Mountbane’s many aides. Brusquely pulling her from bed, the boorish fellow led Charlotte from the room and deposited her in Mountbane’s chambers. Her husband was hosting a party of ten nobles—many of them guests from neighboring provinces.
“Ah! There is my fair wife. How nice you look today!” Mountbane exclaimed.
What kind of farce was this? she wondered silently. She must look ghastly, not having bathed in days. Charlotte listened to his mockery with a blank expression.
“You know, my dear, I was just talking to my man, Grusio, here; and the topic of your last exhibition came up. I’d totally forgotten that you were still chained in the tower room. I do apologize.”
She didn’t speak, knowing that anything she said would only be twisted into another taunting jest.
“I wouldn’t think that living in that dank atmosphere would be the best for your health,” the man went on, “especially if we keep forgetting to feed you. But then, what to do with a wife who is so scandalously adulterous?” He waltzed about her nakedness, giving only scant notice to the voluptuous beauty that had so captured his attention in the past. “After corrupting my second in command, making him now worthless to me, how could I trust that you wouldn’t be fornicating with every nobleman’s dick that pleases you?”
Charlotte looked at him smugly. “I thought you were sending me to Sir Guy?”
“That I was. And I might yet. But, when I thought of what schemes I could devise to make you suffer… well, how could I not witness your anguish myself?”
Charlotte’s heart began to cry before he even spelled out his latest punishment.
He moved close, his face in hers, his breath mingling with her breath, his eyes forcing hers to acknowledge his. “Caius bring out the belt,” he said as he stared determinedly. He didn’t blink. Nor did she. “Give my wife back her chastity,” he ordered. “We’ll make a virgin of her again.” He sneered, delighted by his own wit, but then his face became utterly serious and his tone deadly. “You’ll be sexless, madam, for the remainder of your life. The only time you’ll be without this is to bathe once a month. And should you try any measures to alter this state, I will have your feminine body parts altered in such a way that there will be no life left in them. Sexless, madam. Sexless.”
Charlotte shook her head, aghast.
“I sense that your suffering will be endless,” her husband added.
She waited silently, letting the gist of his message absorb in her brain, then finally blurted out passionately, “What have I done that deserves such misery?”
He snarled again. “You pissed me off, lady. Simple as that. You should know by now that it doesn’t take much to turn my mind against anyone. It would be good, if your example will remind my flock that I am not the charming man I often appear to be. I am a sadist in the purest sense of the word. I cajole, I tease, I have a lovely wit. But in some things, I am unyielding. You had enough dick to keep your body satisfied, and still you fucked my aide behind my back.” While Mountbane spoke, Caius had been installing a chastity belt about Charlotte’s groin. “This, now,” Mountbane grabbed at the crotch piece of the device and shook it hard, “this bondage is my victory!”
Charlotte could not stop her tears; though her tears would not give way to self-pity or shame. “Oh, my husband, I feel so sorry for you,” she said.
“Sorry for me?”
“Yes, you.”
He’d been clearly in his prime, filled with puffed-up power and pride. But at his wife’s odd remark, his mockery and sneers fell flat. “How dare you!” he finally spit out when he could think of nothing else to say.”
“I dare so easily,” she answered him. “You may take away my sexual response, you may strip me of my freedom, but you cannot take my feelings from me. Those are mine. You may control my body, but you cannot steal my thoughts.”
“Good enough then. Have your feelings and enjoy your thoughts. I wonder how they’ll comfort you when your body roars, and in its tempest, you cannot reach the mark that brings you pleasure. Humph.”
