Page 19 of The Lady
Not knowing much about relations between a man and a woman, and certainly not those outside wedlock, Delilah had no idea.
He took her to his office, and the only people they saw along the way were the two men she’d already seen with him, standing guard outside the bedroom door. Delilah blushed and ducked her head, unable to meet their eyes, but neither of them said anything to or about her, to her utmost relief. They recounted the prior evening to Henry as he led them into his office. Putting a cushion on the floor beside his chair, he tugged on Delilah’s leash and pointed to it before sitting down in his chair.
Getting comfortable on the small cushion—her cheeks still smarting from her earlier spanking and a tail hanging from her bottom—was no easy feat. Delilah managed to listen to Butch and Frank with half an ear as she experimented with various positions that did not put undue pressure on her tender parts. It did not take her long to figure out Henry ran a den of iniquity, full of gamblers and whores. Delilah bit her lower lip. This was the man with who she had placed her future? Yet she still felt safer than she had at Felton House.
Once Butch and Frank were done and had left the room, Henry leaned down to unclip the leash on her collar.
“I have some work to get done,” he said, sitting back. “You may explore the room. There are books on the shelves if there are any you are interested in reading. If you need anything, tell me.”
“Yes, um, Sir?” She realized she did not know what to call him. Despite everything they had done together physically, calling him by his given name still felt far too familiar.
“Master,” he corrected gently but firmly, and Delilah felt something inside of her tighten and release. Yes, that was how he saw himself, did he not? That was the position she had put him in. Her Master. A strange shudder went through her body. Nodding, she looked down and away. When she peeked up again, his attention had turned to whatever was on his desk.
Telling herself it was silly to feel neglected, she slowly got to her feet and began to explore the room.
* * *
The Tramp
Although he pretended notto be watching her, Henry could not focus on the accounts in front of him while his pet was moving around. He was too interested in seeing what she would do.
First, she prowled to the window, glancing at him before pulling the curtain back to look out to the street. The view would tell her very little as the buildings in this part of London were unmarked. The street itself was unremarkable by design. After a moment, she let the curtain fall back into place before walking along the walls and peering at the paintings he had displayed. Seeing the tip of her tail, just visible and swishing back and forth as she moved along, made him grin. Even without it, she would have had the same little mincing walk, thanks to the plug stuffed up her bottom, but he still liked being able to see the tail.
After perusing his artwork, she made her way over to the bookshelf he’d indicated. It wasn’t until she was stretched out on the couch on the far side of the room on her stomach with a book in front of her, he was finally able to focus on his own work. Even then, his awareness of her was hypersensitive, and the time seemed to pass more quickly than usual before his stomach began growling for food. The income from the hazard tables could wait. It was time to introduce his pet to more of the staff.
Getting to his feet, he stretched. Even before he was finished, his pet was on her feet, closed book in her hand, watching him almost warily.
“Come here, pet,” he said, picking up the collar. “You may leave the book on my desk.”
She trotted over, unable to hide her concerned expression. His little pet was constantly anxious over everything, he’d notice. Whether it was part of her personality or something left over from the mistreatment she’d received at the hands of Lady Felton, remained to be seen. If the latter, he expected the effects to slowly diminish under his care.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. She nodded rather than answering him verbally, probably to avoid calling him Master. He had not missed how the word had affected her earlier. Deciding he would let her remain silent, he smiled and clipped the leash to her collar. “Come then.”
Anxious fear flashed across her expression, but she followed him into the hall easily enough. She did not begin to balk until they were within earshot of the kitchen. The usual clamor of cooking and conversation reached into the hall, which was when he felt her come to a jerking stop behind him. Turning his head, he twisted the leash around his hand, drawing her inexorably forward, inch by inch. Her anxiety had clearly turned to dread.
“What is wrong, pet?”
Her little pink tongue flicked out nervously, her words coming as a mere whisper. “There... there are people in there. They’ll...see.”
With his hand nearly to the end of the leash, practically touching the collar, Henry pulled her forward, so she stumbled against him. His lips pressed down on hers with a hard, ruthless kiss that left her whimpering against him, one arm wrapped securely around her body to hold her pressed there. When he lifted his head, he did not release her, holding her close against him, so she could not escape.
“The only person whose opinion you need concern yourself with is mine.” The hand on her back drifted lower to cup her buttock, making her jump a little. “Do you understand?”
* * *
The Lady
Such an easy thingfor him to say and a far harder thing for her to do. With his hand on her bottom,stillsore from the morning’s spanking, Delilah knew she must obey.
Rather than letting the leash play out again, he kept her on the short length, his hand nearly at her throat as he led her into the kitchen. Somehow, that actually made it easier for her to follow as there was no slack in the leash for her to use. A number of people looked up as they walked in, most of them working at some chore. There was a large table against the far wall, past the counters and ovens, where a few were seated, eating a meal.
“And who is this?” A man stepped in front of Henry, a white apron over his clothing. He was rotund, bald, and smiling widely at them, but in a friendly manner rather than the mocking she’d feared. There was a hint of a French accent to his words as though it had been worn down by time and exposure to the English. “You finally bring your lady to meet us?”
While he was not entirely rude, it was the least respectful anyone had been toward Henry. Delilah looked at him almost fearfully, but he was shaking his head with a very small smile curving his lips.
“No, Pierre, I brought her so you could feed her.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Pierre turned and clapped his hands at his workers, who immediately sprang into action—not that they had slowed very much to overhear the conversation. “Luncheon for the Tramp and his lady,anon.” He gave Henry and Delilah a little bow. “It will be delivered.”
