Ward: A Dark Romance Read online

  “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 feel 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.

  Chapter 14

  Lizzie

  Warm moist air kissed my cheek. The echo of a bird chirping somewhere nearby was bringing me back to the present. Inhaling the lush perfume of orchids, I finally opened my eyes. I stared above into bright light dotted with green. After a moment, things came more into focus and I realized I was staring up at a large palm frond with streams of sunlight gleaming through the glass dome ceiling of the conservatory.

  With a start I sat up, my hand flying to my chest. Looking down, I could see my bodice was perfectly buttoned, my skirts back in place. Resting near the sofa where I lay was the up-righted easel with all my watercolors placed neatly back. Next to it the little table with all my brushes and pencils arranged in neat little rows.

  The entire scene looked like something out of a Victorian painting probably called something like ‘Lady and Leisure’ or ‘Afternoon Nap.’ As far as anyone knew, I had simply fallen asleep after a lazy morning spent drawing. I scanned the area about me looking for any tell-tale sign of Richard’s presence. A discarded cravat. The scuff from a boot. The lingering scent of his cologne.

  There was nothing.

  Perhaps I had imagined our encounter? I almost would have had to. There was no way I’d participated in something so twisted and violent. My cheeks burned at the memory of what must have been an elicit dream. Just the thought of his pushing the handle of his riding crop deep into my ass while I choked myself out had me trembling despite the warmth of the room.

  Out of everything that I was experiencing and all my doubts over what was real and what wasn’t, please, please let that be the memory that was actually truly a fantasy. I don’t think I could bear the humiliation if it were true.

  As I swung my legs off the sofa, I felt a sharp soreness between my legs.

  No!

  I covered my face with my hands. Even if my mind wasn’t certain, my body knew the truth. Once more it had betrayed me at the hands of Richard.

  Using the armrest for support, I gingerly rose. Everything felt sore and bruised. I thought of the laudanum Parker had left on my bedside table that first night, with the ominous warning that I might need it to cope with my circumstances. I had resisted its allure till now, but perhaps I could just return to my room and take a few drops of the bitter tincture and let it carry me off on an opiate haze for a few hours? At least it would quiet my mind, which hurt almost as much as my body as I tried to reason through the madness I found myself in.

  Perhaps I should take a lesson from Alice in Alice in Wonderland and drink from a bottle? It was fitting since I certainly felt as though I had tumbled down a rabbit hole onto the table of a mad tea party.

  Walking slowly, I tried to remember the way back to my rooms. Unfortunately, I got lost and had to ask a footman. I want to say that he looked like one of the actors who played a footman in the play but now I could see how crazy I sounded, even in my own head.

  The footman looked familiar because I remembered him as… a footman?

  Staying close to the wall as I walked, just in case I stumbled, I held one hand up to my temple and massaged my aching head as my faltering steps, cushioned by the thick hall carpet, brought me closer to the respite of my room.

  As I was about to round a corner into the east wing, where the footman who was a footman told me were my rooms, I could hear hushed voices. Stopping, I pressed closer against the wall and into the shadows, having no desire to encounter any more familiar but not really familiar faces for the day.

  Peeking around the corner, I could see it was two maids. One had a feather duster, the other a handful of linens. They were chatting as they went about their duties.

  “What are you going to do with all that money?”

  “I’m going to buy the biggest television I can find.”

  “A television? You have to think bigger than that! We’re earning a million pounds at the end of this year. A million pounds! That’s crazy.”

  The other maid smiled as she caught her friend’s enthusiasm. “And who knows? Maybe this reality show will be a big hit and we’ll be both rich and famous!”

  The first maid threw a hand over her mouth. I had to strain to hear what she said next. In a hushed whisper she said, “Fuck! I forgot about all the cameras for a second!”

  Then looking up at the hallway ceiling she called out to no one in particular, “Sorry! Won’t happen again!”

  The other maid grabbed her friend by the elbow and they hurried down the hallway, too concerned with their own conversation to notice me lurking around the corner.

  “Be careful. They’ll toss you off the cast in a heartbeat without any notice or second warning. That’s what happened to Tom,” whispered the second maid harshly just as she passed me.

  “Who’s Tom?”

  “He’s the footman who was dumb enough to let his cellphone ring just as the main cast arrived. So stupid. They wouldn’t even let him say goodbye to any of us. He was called into the duke’s study and then the next thing you know, he was gone.”

  Her friend responded but by now they were too far away for me to hear. Casting a furtive glance over my shoulder, I hurried the rest of the way and didn’t stop till I was pressing my back against my closed bedroom door. With trembling hands, I reached behind me to feel for the knob to lock it. There was no key or lock button. Of course there wasn’t.

  Slowly sinking down to the floor, I kept my back pressed against the door as I curled my knees up to my chest and began to rock back and forth. My stomach rolled. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

  He had come close to having me doubt my own sanity… so close.

  I don’t know what was going on here, but I knew Richard was involved. With sickening clarity, I realized that this entire scheme had been for my benefit, but why? The man had never even spoken to me other than a few days ago.

  To put together such an elaborate hoax would take a deep, pathological obsession. Surely an obsession that deep would have left clues? My noticing Richard staring at me a bit too long. Unexplained flowers but no note. Missing items from my dressing room. Blocked phone calls that hung up the moment I answered.

  But there had been nothing.

  Did it really matter?

  I was here now, at his mercy.

  I needed to escape.

  All soreness and exhaustion forgotten, I flew across the room to the dress wardrobe. Throwing open the heavy mahogany doors, I began tearing through the dresses to find something suitable. Falling to my knees, I ran my hands over the wooden base searching for a latch or some sign of a hidden drawer but there was nothing. Richard had been too methodical in his planning to be careless enough to leave a pair of jeans or sneakers lying around where I might find them.

  Well, two could play at this game.

  Rising, I smoothed out my now hopelessly wrinkled skirts. Taking a deep breath, I went over to the fireplace and yanked on the tapestry bell pull that was just to the left. I did not have to wait long for Mary to appear.

  I wanted to shout and scream at her. How could you? Did you know what he had planned for me all along? I thought we were friends? But I didn’t. I kept my composure.

  I needed to play the game.

  Remembering to use her last name, I asked, “Parker, I’m in the mood to do a little sewing, could you provide me with thread, needle, and scissors?”

  “If something is torn or needs mending, my lady, I can take care of it for you.”

  I had to think quickly. Thinking back to all those BBC period dramas I had watched. I remembered how the ladies of the great estates do all the charity work for the poor.

  Playing my part as Lady Elizabeth, I shook my head, careful to keep a placid expression on my face. “I thought I would cut up some old fabric and sew little dolls for the children of the tenants.”

  There… that sounded very nineteenth century ladylike.

  Parker glanced around looking uncertain; in the end she couldn’t see anything wrong with my request. Giving me a quick curtsy, she said, “I will be right back with the items you requested.”

  Taking a seat by the low fire, I spoke in a flat voice as if already bored with my own idea. “Please have cook prepare a tray for me up here. I intend to spend all afternoon finishing the dolls.”

  “Very well, my lady.”

  Keeping an ear out for any servants entering, I carefully began to cut the extra flounces, trim, and embellishments off the darkest dress I could find in the wardrobe. It would be better if I turned the underskirt into a pair of loose-fitting pants for better mobility but I didn’t think I had the time. The best I could do was lighten the weight of the dress by removing any extra fabric and tearing out the whalebone corseting that lined the bodice to give it extra structure. A few times Parker came in to look in on me, but each time I was sure to have some semblance of a rag doll on my lap by the time she entered.

  I was able to take some of the extra fabric and sew a few extra pockets in the lining. I’m sure cook thought it strange when I rang down for more tea sandwiches and scones but none of the servants dared question me. I carefully wrapped them in linen and secreted the food away in the inner pockets. I had no idea where I was other than judging by the trees and foliage outside my window it looked to be somewhere in the English countryside. The landscaping lacked the desolate roughness of the highland hills so I hoped I was more south, perhaps close to Wales and only a few hours from London. Either way there was no telling how long I would be wandering out in the woods till I found help. I would need all the supplies I could muster.

  Going into the water closet, I emptied out a bottle of perfumed oil for the bath and rinsed it carefully with the water in the pitcher by my bed before refilling it and placing that in the other pocket I had created inside the skirt.

  Just as I was wondering how I was going to face Richard before I managed to escape, I heard the rattle of carriage wheels just below my bedroom window. Carefully pulling the curtains aside, I watched as Richard appeared wearing a top hat with an expensive-looking drape coat. As he grabbed the edge of the carriage door to propel himself inside, he paused and looked up at the house. Although I was only peeking through the thin gauze of the curtain, I felt certain his eyes pierced straight to mine.

  I held my breath. For the barest of moments, I thought it was possible he had somehow guessed my plan and would at any second turn back around and come charging back into the house in search of me. It was ludicrous of course, but after all that I had been through I was sure I could be forgiven for thinking this man possessed borderline supernatural powers.

  How else could I explain his power over my body and almost over my mind?

  An eternity later, he turned and entered the carriage. I didn’t breathe again till I saw it swallowed by the low-hanging willow branches far down the lane and the misty fog that had begun to roll in with the dusk.

  After pleading a headache to Parker, I asked her to stoke the fire and then leave me alone for the rest of the night.

  Putting on my altered dress, I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up high, knowing that Parker would probably check on me at least once. Listening to the tick of the mantel clock, I tried to count the minutes and hours till finally the door creaked open. There was a hazy shaft of flickering light from the stub of a candle she held. Careful not to oversell it, I let out a soft, rattling snore. It must have satisfied her because I watched from under my eyelashes as the door closed shut.

  Still I waited.

  With Richard not at home for dinner, I was counting on the majority of the servants being below stairs in their quarters. At least that was what happened on Downton Abbey, so I hoped it was true.

  Rising from my bed, I crept across the room and listened at the door for any sound of talking or the slide of a footfall. All was quiet.

  Carefully turning the knob, I crept into the hall. Keeping to the shadows, I edged my way down and to the staircase. Taking one step at a time, I listened intently for any sound of an approach. My hands felt clammy as I gripped the smooth wood of the banister. With each step it felt as though my knees were locking up in fear. Still, I willed myself to keep moving. Not knowing the house well enough, I really had no choice but to boldly go right out the front door. I couldn’t risk searching for a back door since the back of the house was where the servants would most likely be. As I neared the second landing, my heart dropped. Peering over the railing I could see a single footman keeping watch by the door. Probably waiting for Richard’s return.

  Trying to quell my rapidly beating heart, I focused on the problem at hand. While I was fairly certain this whole thing was an elaborate ruse on Richard’s part and there was no reality show or cameras, I couldn’t be absolutely certain there weren’t at least some hidden cameras monitoring the entrances. If I did anything it would have to be quick and daring.

  Edging along the wall, I reached out for a small Staffordshire figurine of a shepherdess with a sheep that was perched on a nearby decorative table. Raising it above my head, I flung it as hard as I could over the landing and down the hallway away from the front door.

  It hit the hard marble foyer with a terrible shattering crash. The footman sprang to his feet and ran in the direction of the sound just as I flew down the stairs. Knowing he would only be distracted for the sparest of moments, I flung myself across the polished foyer floor and grasped the heavy brass handle of the door. Pushing it downward, I wrenched the door open. Just as I was about to step out into the cool, damp night air, I caught sight of two swinging carriage lanterns, no more than a hazy halo of light through the fog.

  Richard was returning.

  I was too late.

  The carriage was being pulled by six large horses with such speed that I barely had a chance to close the door and duck into the nearby dimmed parlor before the footman came running back to this post.

  Inching along the wall, I crept behind a high-backed upholstered chair and tried to calm my erratic breathing for fear it would certainly give me away.

  The low flame in the fire grate across the room flickered as cold air rushed in with the opening of the front entrance.

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