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Why had he said that? He could've brought about the conclusion she sought, and that might have ended their evening. Satisfied, she might have wished for no more. But he found himself curious to see what else she might endure, and he reminded himself he wanted to provide enough of a disincentive for her to consider coming back.
He grabbed the bindings at her wrists and pulled her to her feet.
“What must I do to please you, my lord?” she inquired.
“Obey all my commands and never spend without permission.”
“I will endeavor my best, but what if I should fail despite all efforts?”
“Then you shall be properly punished or we are done. Is that understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Her derrière had been the charming sight. He suspected her breasts would be as pleasing to view.
He walked her toward the St. Andrew’s cross. Turning her around, he undid his neckcloth from her wrists then carefully began to remove the pins from her bodice.
"What is it you do?" she asked. "You do not intend to disrobe me?"
"Your backside was laid bare to me," he replied, "but you have reservations now?"
"Yes, well, you threw up my skirts rather suddenly. I had no opportunity to protest."
"Use your safety word if you must then."
She bit her bottom lip in contemplation, then said, "Proceed, as it pleases you."
He appreciated that she was no dolt and resumed unpinning her gown. He did not intend to strip her to the buff. In his mind, she was still Millie, his cousin. Though he was beginning to see her in a different light.
After removing the pins, he slid the gown from her, leaving her in her stays, shift, and petticoat. He turned her back around and raised her right arm to shackle the wrist to one corner of the cross. He did the same to her left arm. He lifted the mask to her brow so that she could see herself in the looking glass upon the opposite wall. Her eyes widened to see herself stretched upon the cross.
Her stays laced conveniently in the front. Above them, her breasts swelled enticingly. He ran his knuckles along the top of one mound and heard her breath catch. Lightly, he slid his fingers to the cleavage and then down to the ribbon. After loosening the laces, he pried the stays apart enough for the breasts to spill forward. He cupped an orb. She inhaled sharply.
It was a delicious sound, a delicious moment, knowing that such a simple touch could elicit such a reaction. He groped the supple flesh. Her lashes fluttered.
It was wrong. Wrong to manhandle his cousin in this manner, to strip her and shackle her. However, the impropriety of it was beginning to have a titillating effect. He never would've allowed himself to go this far if she had not acquiesced—even prompted him into action.
She had lovely full breasts. He passed his thumb over the nipple, making her shudder. The bud hardened further. He played with it, tugged it, rolled it between thumb and finger. She emitted a soft groan, a rumble at the back of her throat. He palmed both breasts and gazed upon their likeness. Wicked thoughts went through his mind with what he could do to such beauties. He tried to ignore the heat churning in his groin.
Releasing her, he went to fetch a glass of water for her. The port still presided in her body, and as she had not partaken of the tea that had been brought to her room, she would require hydration. He held the glass to her lips, and she drank without protest.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said after she had consumed half the glass. “I require no more.”
“You will finish it.”
He put the glass to her mouth. She dutifully complied, then looked to him much like a child might wait for praise or acknowledgment. Had her eyes always held so much sparkle? He found himself pulled into their depths. An odd desire to kiss her again tickled his fancy.
Resisting, he stepped away and retrieved another glass of water.
“I could not, my lord. It would—I would not want to…”
If he were truly wicked, he would have commanded she finish the second glass, even if her bladder was full. But that would have to wait another day.
He noted that her shift had mostly dried and did not cling to her body as tightly as it had during the dinner. He had to admit the effect of the wet garments had been provocative.
“It was quite naughty of you to have dampened your gown,” he remarked in a low voice.
She flushed. “Yes. I had never done so before. I promise I shall not do so again.”
He leaned in toward her. “Why not? It was quite appealing.”
Her breath caught.
He tipped the glass over her bosom. She gasped when the liquid spilled over her, slowly seeping through the shift. There was not enough water to dampen the entire garment, but the fabric clung to her hips and parts of her thighs nicely.
He stepped back to admire how the water glistened upon her skin. “Now, let us see to your punishment.”
