Читать книгу Lust Ever After - Rose Fer de - Страница 5

It was dark by the time the coach drew up outside the house of Frankenstein. The imposing gothic façade soared above the cobbled drive, its steep gables and asymmetrical roofline carving its outline against the moonlit sky. The horses stamped their feet and snorted, breath pluming in the crisp winter air. It had been a tiring day and Frankenstein was looking forward to relaxing in his study with a glass of brandy.

Justine opened the door for him and took his coat as he stepped inside the hall. The little maid was slightly out of breath, as though she’d run to meet him at the door. Like a pet, he thought with a smile. He handed her his silver-topped walking stick and she slotted it into the rack with the others.

‘Thank you, Justine,’ he said. As she turned back to him, he reached up to her face, fingering a wisp of dark hair that had come loose from her mob cap. He raised his eyebrows.

She blushed and began smoothing her hair back, tucking the loose strands up under her cap. ‘Sorry, sir. I was upstairs when I heard the coach. I was … blacking the grates.’

‘I see.’ He took her hand and peered closely at the fingers. They were spotless. ‘You can’t have made a very good job of it.’

Again she blushed, lowering her head. Unable to improve on her already poor fabrication, she was silent for several seconds. He took pity on her and laughed, gently smacking the back of her hand. ‘It’s all right, my girl,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You were in my rooms again, weren’t you?’

She gasped and feigned innocence. ‘Sir! I –’

‘You know what they say about curious little pussycats, don’t you?’

She bit her lip, fidgeting where she stood as he tormented her, her fingers clutching the lace edges of her pinafore. He knew full well what she had been up to. What girl wouldn’t be curious about the mysterious devices he kept in his locked cabinets? Justine was the one who answered the door to his lady patients, after all, and saw them out again. They were always glowing and a little dishevelled when they left. She was bound to be curious about this special treatment of his that was so popular that these women came back to see him time after time. And he didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d stood outside his consulting room, ear pressed to the door, eyes wide with wonder at the sounds that came from within.

He wasn’t annoyed with her in the slightest, but she was so fetching in her discomfiture he found himself looking for excuses to chide her simply so he could watch her squirm. He felt himself growing hard whenever he teased her. He recalled watching the delicious battle between shame and excitement the day he had hired her, subjecting her to a thorough and completely unnecessary physical examination. What fun he’d had coaxing her out of her dress, her corset, her chemise and pantalets. But just as no man could hide the bulge in his trousers when aroused, no woman could conceal the telltale wetness. And Justine was no exception.

‘The demonstration went well,’ he told her breezily. Initially he’d thought of pressing Justine into service for it, knowing she’d have responded exactly as Daisy had. But then he’d thought better of it. Occasionally, students or colleagues came to the house and the girl would have a devil of a time opening the door or serving tea to men who had seen her in such a state. He had a cruel streak, but not even he could do that to his sweet little maid.

‘That’s good, sir,’ she said, relaxing now that the subject of her snooping seemed to have been dropped. But he didn’t intend to let her off the hook so easily.

‘Yes, the girl was very responsive and I’m satisfied that the students are better informed now as regards the intricacies of female anatomy.’

Her cheeks blazed scarlet again and she chewed her lower lip. ‘Oh.’

‘Indeed, they wanted more. They wanted a demonstration of the Alleviator, but I told them it wouldn’t be possible, as it was simply too big to transport.’

At that he saw her eyes flick to the door of his reception room and then quickly away again. Ah, yes, the little fish was hooked. She knew the machine by name only; she had never seen it.

‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘I didn’t think it fair to subject a girl to that kind of exhibition. It does provoke rather intense and extreme responses in a young lady and I didn’t want the girl to feel at all inhibited by the public setting. In private, they can let go fully, as I’m the only one there to see.’

Justine swallowed audibly as she pretended to make some adjustment to the scattering of calling cards in the little silver salver on the hall table. ‘Very thoughtful, sir,’ was apparently all she could think of to say.

‘So who’s come calling today?’ There were three cards on the salver, each bearing the name of a young lady doubtless suffering the malady he alone seemed able to treat. ‘Miss Anna Fairfax, Mrs Gwendolyn Merrydale …’

‘Yes, sir, they asked if you could please see them right away. That lady –’ she pointed to a familiar gilt-edged card ‘– said it was a matter of extreme urgency.’

‘I see.’

The card Justine indicated belonged to a Mrs Sylvia Leigh-Hunt. She was a wealthy widow he’d been ‘treating’ for several months. She was a few years younger than his forty-two, but still a handsome woman. There was nothing at all wrong with her, but that was hardly the point. He was an expert in the art of separating rich fools from their money.

‘How did the other two look?’ he asked.

‘Oh, Miss Fairfax was a lovely young thing,’ Justine said dreamily. ‘Flaxen hair, green eyes. Like a painting she was, sir.’

He nodded. ‘Mm-hmm. And Mrs Merrydale?’

Justine frowned slightly and shook her head. ‘I told her you weren’t taking on any new patients.’

He laughed. Ah, yes, she knew her master’s tastes. ‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘You’ve done very well. Do you know, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.’

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, her face open and trusting and entirely innocent of what he had in mind. She may have thought Miss Fairfax was lovely, but Justine was quite a picture herself. She was twenty-three, slim and petite, sylph-like. But what he found most striking was the contrast of pale-blue eyes and dark hair. It gave her an air of mystery. He had seen her naked, of course, but he had never seen her with her hair down. She always kept it pinned up and tucked into her cap. It would fall in loose wanton waves round her shoulders if she let it down, like that of a gypsy or a wild woman.

Her delicate bone structure belied her low station and he had often toyed with the notion of dressing her as a lady and training her up. Teaching her manners, how to speak, how to walk, how to comport herself. He could see her clothed in a gown of vibrant silk, cut low across the bosom, jewels gleaming against her slender throat. He was sure she could pass for a lady given the right training. Ah, but a lady in public only. In private, he would teach her tricks that would make a whore blush.

Since entering his service, she had proven loyal and obedient. She had no family and no ties to the world outside. Until recently. In the past few weeks she had become sweet on the butcher’s boy Ralph, whom she saw whenever she went to the market to run errands. He was a handsome lad, but Frankenstein knew a bounder when he saw one. He’d seen the way the boy looked at her and he’d cautioned her against giving her heart away too readily, for it was bound to get broken. Still, even the brightest girl is made foolish by love and Frankenstein determined to keep an eye on his little maid, lest she be seduced. By someone other than him.

‘Would my curious little cat like to see what I keep in that locked chamber?’

A beautiful blush painted her cheeks and she fixed her eyes on the floor, where she nudged the toe of one boot against the other, in an agony of indecision. He spared her the misery of admitting her curiosity, took her by the hand and led her into the reception room. She lingered in the doorway as he withdrew a set of keys and unlocked his consulting room, then beckoned her further, as though into a sinister lair. He smiled at the thought, for in a way it was exactly that. Certain of the ladies he saw were under no illusion about what was really going on, but the majority of them had been so conditioned by prudish society as to genuinely believe there was nothing sexual in what he did to them. One day the world would catch on and his little speciality would come to an end. Until then, however, he intended to exploit it to the fullest.

Justine plucked at her skirt, nervously peering around at the cabinets and cupboards. He adjusted the gas lamp and moved deeper into the room, to the inner sanctum, the chamber in which the beast slept, awaiting another victim.

‘Sir, I’m not sure I should …’

Frankenstein returned to her and took her gently by the shoulders, offering her his most charming smile. Doubtless she feared he would persuade her out of her clothes again, a thought he couldn’t deny had crossed his mind. ‘Justine,’ he said, ‘we both know you’ve been in here before without my permission. Didn’t I say when I hired you that I needed a girl I could trust?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Now, I don’t mind that you’re inquisitive, but that doesn’t give you leave to snoop.’

A delicate frown creased her features and she bit her lip. ‘No, sir,’ she mumbled.

‘I’ve never expressly forbidden you to come in here when I’m away – you certainly know where the spare key is kept – but I shouldn’t have thought it necessary. Good little chambermaids do not go sneaking around in their master’s private rooms.’

Although he spoke softly, smiling indulgently all the while, the girl was writhing in a horror of delicious embarrassment. He wondered if she could see how hard it was making him, or indeed if she had sufficient knowledge to recognise such things. Ralph had surely tried, by less eloquent means, to manoeuvre the girl into a compromising position. If so, he had clearly been unsuccessful. Such a rascal would be gone like a shot afterwards and never seen again.

‘It was very naughty of you, wasn’t it?’

Mortified, she couldn’t meet his eyes. He was so close he was sure he could smell her arousal, soft and spicy. She trembled like a rabbit caught in a trap, vulnerable and completely available to him. The girl was so naturally submissive that the very thought of disappointing her master would be a torment for her. If he kept it up much longer, he would reduce her to tears. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her head.

‘But we were talking about a reward,’ he said kindly. ‘Weren’t we?’

She relaxed at once, a sheepish grin spreading across her features. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘I trust you to look after my needs, so it’s only fair I should trust you with my secrets as well. And I think you deserve to know what goes on. What could possibly be improper about that?’

‘I just wasn’t sure that Ralph would approve of his future wife knowing about – well, certain things …’

Ah, so the scoundrel saw him as a threat, did he? Well, perhaps one seducer could recognise another, but Frankenstein was far more accomplished at this game than he was. There was no way he was going to allow that insolent pup to spoil his lovely Justine.

‘I see,’ he said sadly. ‘So it’s fine for a maid to nose around where she isn’t allowed but when her master trusts her enough to show her himself …’

Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle a little gasp of horror. ‘Oh no, sir! I didn’t mean … I just …’

‘Very well,’ he shrugged, returning the keys to his pocket and turning to leave. ‘I had no idea you had such a low opinion of me, Justine.’

He had to suppress a grin at the miserable sniffle he heard behind him as he walked away. If there was one thing an honest girl couldn’t bear, it was the thought that she had broken someone’s trust.

‘Sir?’ she said at last, her voice wavering.

He turned back to her, his loins twitching with the sense of imminent victory.

She offered him a meek little smile as she moved towards the door of the private chamber. ‘Please forgive me, sir. I was being foolish.’

Frankenstein smiled. Sometimes it was just too easy. He unlocked the door and led her into the darkened chamber.

After a long silence, she asked, ‘Is that it?’

‘The Alleviator,’ he said with pride. ‘Indeed it is.’

He could tell from her face that it was nothing like she had imagined. How often had ladies told him they’d been expecting something huge and fearsome? A massive steam-driven automaton that would violently pound the nervous energy out of them and leave them feeling plundered? He was fascinated by the wild fancies that seemed equal parts fear and desire. What strange creatures women were, really.

‘The patient lies here,’ he explained, touching the padded surface of the table, ‘and the motor is concealed beneath.’

Justine dropped to her knees to peer under the table, gazing at the device and trying to guess how it worked. He knew she would never ask him outright.

‘Would you like to see how it works?’

She jumped as if he’d read her mind and cast her eyes down shyly, her silence all the answer he needed. It was another thing he’d learnt in his dealings with women; they so often needed the illusion of coercion or even force to ease their sense of shame. He had become a master at such games and found that the intricate manoeuvring only added to the fun.

He placed his hands around her waist and lifted her up onto the table. She uttered a little squeak of surprise but didn’t protest.

‘And now you must lie back,’ he said, pushing her down with a hand against her breastbone.

She resisted only for a moment before letting him lower her into position. If she was surprised that he hadn’t asked her to undress she didn’t let on. He had, after all, assured her that it was all entirely proper. A lady didn’t have to be naked to allow access and he was very careful about which ones he demanded it of. All it took was one knowing husband and the whole lucrative venture would be ruined. Today he merely wanted to give Justine a taste, enough to whet her appetite for more. He was determined that in time she would learn to ask for what she wanted.

She blinked in surprise as he gathered her skirt and raised it to her waist before she could object. But she was cowed by her earlier reluctance and, although she stiffened a little at the exposure, she lay still.

‘Good girl. And now if you’ll just part your legs, just a bit …’

She closed her eyes and did as she was told. Underneath she wore the customary open-seam drawers. The garment clothed each leg to the knee, but the legs were separately stitched to the drawstring at the waist, allowing for easy access to the exposed crotch. He had provided them along with her uniform, but he had treated her (and himself) to a fashionable frill of lace at the kneebands. A bit above a maid’s station, but who would ever see but him? Well, perhaps that wretched Ralph …

Justine trembled as he firmly pulled her knees a little further apart. Dampness glistened like dew on the dark thatch of hair at the branching of her thighs.

‘Dear me,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘This won’t do at all.’

The little maid looked instantly alarmed, fearful she’d done something wrong. ‘Sir?’

‘You are not appropriately prepared.’

She blinked, not comprehending.

‘All my patients must be shaved,’ he explained, ‘for reasons of safety and hygiene. You can hardly expect me to probe and stroke and treat the nether parts of you in anything like the detail you need if they are concealed.’

Without waiting for a response, he fetched his shaving things. Of course, the procedure wasn’t necessary at all; it was just his preference. He liked to see everything. Most women found the experience highly erotic, although naturally they tried to pretend they were merely obeying his obscure orders.

The shaving also served another purpose. It ensured that a lady would show herself to no one else, not even another physician. It was as good as a mark of ownership. In this case it would give Justine extra incentive to see that Ralph kept his hands to himself. At least until the hair grew back. Then he would have to contrive an excuse to shave her again.

Justine’s eyes widened as she saw the straight razor. ‘Will it hurt?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘Not if you’re a good girl and hold very still for me.’ Then he set about daubing her with shaving soap.

She jumped a little at the first touch of the brush but after that she didn’t move. He coaxed her legs wide apart and painted her sex with lather. He couldn’t resist pressing the soft bristles well up against her, which elicited a little moan. Her thighs relaxed and her legs opened wider still, like the petals of a hungry flower spreading itself for the rays of the sun.

‘Now I want you to be perfectly still, Justine,’ he said. ‘You will be still, won’t you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ came the breathless whisper.

Oh yes, she was ready.

He bent over her and slowly drew the blade down over her pubic mound, carving a path through the lather. She gasped and he placed the fingers of his left hand firmly on the vulnerable pink skin he had just revealed, a silent command not to move. Gooseflesh rose on her thighs and she shivered slightly. He wiped the blade clean and swept it through another patch of foam.

This was an especially intimate ritual among the many in his repertoire and he took his time over it. He loved the entire process of unveiling. For him it was more art than science. As the blade rasped and the dark curls fell away he was treated to a sight few men ever got to see – a woman’s sex, wholly uncovered and exposed for his eyes, his hands, his instruments. The ultimate submissive offering.

Holding her skin taut, he slid the razor up each inner thigh, angling each stroke in to the centre point of her sex. He carefully trimmed away everything that might obscure his view. Nothing must remain but her perfect mound, silky and smooth.

It was over far too quickly, both for him and for Justine, whose breathing had grown fast and shallow. Once, she had lifted her head to peer down at what he was doing, then blushed and looked away, clasping her hands at her breast. With all the hair removed he could easily see the reason for her embarrassment: she was exceedingly wet. It was all he could do not to dip his finger inside. Instead he made do with towelling her dry and dabbing at her in such a way as to produce more of those charming little gasps and sighs.

‘There,’ he said triumphantly. ‘That’s much better.’

She glanced down and her mouth fell open in mute surprise as she saw herself clearly for the first time.

‘Now we can proceed.’

He pressed a button at the end of the table and the engine whirred to life, rumbling beneath it. Justine jumped a little at the vibrations and then began to smile.

‘It’s very pleasant, sir,’ she said. ‘Like riding on the train.’

He smiled at her naïveté. ‘Oh, that’s not all.’

He allowed himself a final lingering look at her before proceeding to the next step. The business end of the machine was a small device, about the size and shape of an egg, attached to a hinged metal arm. He lowered the buzzing attachment and rested it against Justine’s bare sex. She gave a little cry of surprise as the powerful vibrations began to pulse through her. No, she hadn’t been expecting that. None of them ever knew what they were in for.

Adopting his most soothing voice, he told her to relax, to submit to the device. Her face took on a familiar dreamy cast as her body realised what was happening and she sank into the pleasure. Everything was centred on that one small part of her and it quickly became her whole world.

How delightful it was to watch the play of emotions across a woman’s face the first time she felt those vibrations! Naturally, some ladies were too repressed to let go, despite his constant reassurances. There was no impropriety, he was a medical man, it was all for their own good. Sometimes none of it could break through the barrier. Such women seemed determined to suffer, to deny themselves pleasure, even in the form of alleged clinical relief.

Justine was an excellent subject. He had tricked her into it so there need be no guilt on her part. And she clearly had a sensual nature; shaving her had shown him that quite plainly. Now she was rocking her hips back and forth to get the most out of the experience. In time, he could introduce her to other devices, other pleasures. He had no doubt that she would prove a very eager pupil.

As he sensed her nearing the peak, he turned a knob to increase the speed. Her fingers clutched the edges of the table and she raised her hips, forcing her pelvis roughly against the source of the pleasure until she gave a wild cry as the wave of spasms overtook her. Then she collapsed, gasping and panting, dazed and spent.

Smiling, Frankenstein shut off the machine and tidied up while she recovered, her legs still splayed, her face flushed and blissful. When she still hadn’t moved after several minutes, he gently drew her skirt down, reluctantly concealing her charms. That seemed to wake her up. She covered her face with her hands as though trying to force her smile into hiding.

‘Well, my girl, I trust you feel suitably rewarded?’

She nodded, amazement painting her features. ‘Oh sir, I’ve never felt such … It was …’

‘I know. It cures all manner of ills. Now perhaps you understand why the treatment is so popular.’

‘I do indeed, sir. I had no idea!’

He helped her up and she stumbled a little as she tried to stand. It was another sight he relished. After soaring with euphoria, they found it a challenge to return to solid ground. Ah, such power he had! In some bygone era he would have been the village’s medicine man, the wise and mysterious enchanter to whom all the women were in thrall.

Justine gazed blankly around the room, still lost to the unfamiliar sensations. He’d awakened every nerve ending in her body, assaulting her with pleasure and now she seemed overwhelmed.

He decided to give her the evening off, even though he knew she might waste it on the butcher’s boy. In fact, Frankenstein rather hoped Ralph would see a change in his little conquest and realise that he was a poor second to whatever her master had done to her.

All in all, it had been a successful day and Frankenstein was delighted with the progress he’d made with Justine. He led her back to the hallway and smiled as she made her unsteady way upstairs.

His eye fell on the salver and he pocketed the calling cards, doubly pleased that his list of patients was growing. Some gossipy lady must have put the word out. At this rate he would have the most successful practice in all of London. Not that any of that mattered to him; it was the money the practice brought in that was important. By the end of the month he should have enough to buy a crucial piece of equipment for the rooftop laboratory. Then he could bury himself in his real work. His life’s work.