Bound in Moonlight (13 page)

Four

T
WO MINUTES TILL Inspection. Queue up, girls.” Pointing with his coach whip, Mr. Llewellyn said, “Violet first, then Angelique, then Laurel, then . . . oh, blast.” He pulled the
Compendium
from his coat pocket and flipped through the pages to confirm the slaves' proper order. “After Laurel comes Narcissa, then Jessamine, Jonquil, Elle, Aster, Iris, Columbine, Poppy, Holly, Tulip, Rose, Lili, and Saffron. Lick your lips and rub your nips!”

Caroline felt starved for breath as she took her prescribed place.
What am I doing? What in God's name am I doing?

“Each slave is to take the loop at the end of her leash and attach it to the collar of the slave in front of her, taking care to keep her wrists above the leash,” the little dandiprat continued. “Use that hook hanging off the nape. Except, of course, for you,Violet. I'll be taking your leash to guide the procession into the hall. Once Inspection is over, we shall leave through the other end of the hall and wait in the courtyard while each of you takes her turn on the auction dais.”

“Oh, God,” Caroline murmured as she struggled with her shackled hands to hook her leash to the back of Tulip's collar. “This is insane. I can't do this.”

A hand, cool and soothing, stroked Caroline's shoulder from behind. “Don't be afraid,” Lili whispered in her throaty, lightly accented voice. “It is not so bad. You'll see. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.”

Enjoy it?
Turning to look at Lili over her shoulder, Caroline said, “Do
you
enjoy it?”

“Of course. Why else would I be doing it?”

“For the money.”

“I've no need of money. What I need is . . . stimulation.”

This came as a surprise to Caroline, who hadn't thought of Lili as that type.

“You needn't stay, if you don't want to,” Lili said. “You can leave right now and go home. Where
is
your home? London?”

“Yes. No. I . . . I have no home, no family. That's why I'm here. I'm in desperate straits. You've no idea how desperate.” She shook her head helplessly. “I can't leave. I've got to stay and do this, but it's . . . I can't imagine how I'll get through it. I'm not the kind of woman who can just . . . do these things. I'm a rector's daughter, for pity's sake.”

“Place your clasped hands behind your head,” Mr. Llewellyn continued. “Your wrist cuffs are to be clipped to the back of your collar by the slave behind you. Angelique, you'll do Violet. Then Laurel, you'll do Angelique, and so forth. Saffron, I shall do you since you are last in line.”

“Be someone else, then,” Lili whispered. “Don't be Caroline. Be Rose. Rose wouldn't be afraid. She would view this as a grand adventure. And then, in a week, it will all be over and you'll have the money.”

“Aster! Iris!” Llewellyn tapped each of the girls on the shoulder with his whip. “Cease that bloody giggling. Meekness and humility, remember? You're slaves, for pity's sake.”

From the other side of the curtain came the voice of Mr. Hamilton Archer, the English
administrateur
to Théophile Morel, the shadowy Seigneur de Ombres who was the lord of Grotte Cachée. Caroline liked Mr. Archer, who had greeted the slaves warmly and respectfully upon their arrival at the château. Mr. Archer welcomed the gentlemen with a brief speech before introducing Mr. Oliver Riddell of Riddell's Auction House, who announced in his distinctively resonant, stiffjawed voice that the slaves would be making their entrance shortly.

“Chins up, eyes forward,” Llewellyn ordered as he took hold of Violet's leash. “Posture upright, tits out. Keep your walk graceful and maintain a full leash length from the slave in front of you.”

“Without further preliminaries, then,” Mr. Riddell announced, “I present to you . . . the Inspection of the Slaves.”

Llewellyn pushed the curtain aside with his whip and strode through, holding Violet's leash as if leading a pony by its reins. She straightened her back and followed him. Angelique whispered something that sounded like a prayer, and then she, too, entered the great hall, trailed by Laurel,Narcissa, Jessamine . . .

From her place toward the end of the line, Caroline could see very little of the hall, but she could hear the audience applauding the slaves as they made their appearance for the first time. It must have been quite a spectacle, a parade of lovely, wellborn young women in transparent gowns and slave collars, leashed together like animals. The tethering of their hands to the back of their collars had the effect of thrusting their breasts up and out. Through their filmy gowns could be seen their nipples and the dark shadows between their thighs.

“Be Rose,” Lili whispered as Caroline, her heart pounding, followed Tulip into the cavernous, high-ceilinged hall. The long wall to the right was lined with tall leaded-glass windows open to let in the warm night air. On the left-hand wall were two doors opening onto the castle's central courtyard, the ornate main entrance and a service door near the velvet-draped dais at the far end of the hall that would serve as the auction block later that evening.

The elegantly attired men were all on their feet, save for Lord Rexton on his velvet settee. He glanced at the slaves one by one as they took their places along the window-lined wall, guided by short little taps of Mr. Llewellyn's coach whip as he patrolled the lineup.

Caroline looked straight ahead, as required, but her field of vision encompassed most of the room. She could see the viscount, his brow slightly creased, scanning the slaves a second time. His gaze bypassed Caroline, and then returned. He studied her for a moment, no doubt reflecting upon the change in her appearance. His gaze lit on her breasts and then he looked away, lifting his snifter to his mouth.

As the applause died down, the prospective buyers began conferring among themselves, pointing to this slave and that as they consulted their compendia. Most looked to be British, American, or northern European, but there were a few swarthy Mediterranean types, and one who appeared to be a mulatto. There was even a Chinaman, rather tall for his race and exotically dashing in his European-style full-dress.

“Gentlemen, if I may have your attention for a few moments . . .” Mr. Riddell, standing at his podium on the dais, gave his gavel several quick raps. “I will endeavor to be as brief as possible, however it is incumbent upon me to ensure before Inspection begins that you all understand certain fundamental requirements of slave ownership. Should you take issue with any aspect of this regime, now would be the time to exempt yourself from further proceedings.

“First, please note that if you purchase a slave this evening, she is required to be collared and cuffed day and night for the entire week. Should it become necessary for reasons of health or safety to release her, you are to see Mr. Llewellyn or Dr. Coates, who has established a dispensary in the chapel withdrawing room. Both gentlemen are in possession of a key that will unlock your slave's shackles.

“Your slave will have been provided with an appropriate wardrobe, which will be delivered to your bedchamber at the conclusion of tonight's auction, along with a case containing various gear and restraints that may prove useful. Her attire, however, is entirely at your discretion. She may wear clothing provided by you, or no clothing at all, as you wish. She must sleep in the chamber assigned to you unless you choose to tie her up outside or keep her in the stable.”

The stable?
Caroline glanced at the other slaves to note their reaction to this, only to earn a censorious little smack on the cheek from Mr. Llewellyn's whip. “Eyes forward, Rose.”

“You may leave your slave alone in your chamber only if she is securely locked inside,” Mr. Riddell continued. “When she accompanies you beyond it, she must be under restraints at all times. In general, this means either leading her by the leash or tethering her to a secure object. You are to address her by the name assigned to her, even if you are aware of her real name, and you may not permit her to call you anything but ‘Master.' May I remind you that a gentleman who habitually fails in these requirements risks having his slave removed from him and re-auctioned to one of the other gentlemen.

“Since the number of gentlemen present exceeds the number of ladies going on the block, some of you will unfortunately not succeed in purchasing a slave, however you are welcome to be our guests at Grotte Cachée for the remainder of Slave Week. Bear in mind that as an Unattached Gentleman, you may not touch a slave unless you request her services from her master. Should he confer such a privilege, he will prescribe the manner in which you may use her. Under no circumstances are you to avail yourself of those services without securing such permission. The same caveat applies to masters who wish to make use of another master's slave. The only exception to this rule is if the slave in question is wearing one of these.”

He held up a heavy gold chain dangling a heart-shaped padlock of black enamel decorated with gilt.“This is a Master's Pendant, commonly known as the Black Heart, which each master is given, along with its key, when he takes possession of his slave. You are to wear it around your neck to signify your status as the owner of a slave. The heart itself may be removed and locked onto your slave's collar should you choose to temporarily offer her as community property. In that case, you are to tether her in a location that is accessible to all, and whoever avails himself of her must leave her where he has found her so that others may enjoy her as well. Your slave must also wear the Black Heart for participation in games or other amusements during which she may be subject to the intimate attentions of gentlemen other than yourself.”

Dear God,
Caroline thought.
What have I gotten myself into?

“With those caveats understood, you are now at liberty to inspect the slaves at your leisure,” said Riddell, adding, as the men approached the lineup, “You may examine them as you see fit, short of lifting their Inspection gowns or touching them in a painful or penetrative matter. A slave may be disrobed and enjoyed only after she has been purchased, and then only by her master or by a gentleman to whom her master has granted this privilege.”

Caroline's heart felt as if it might hammer right out of her chest as a craggily handsome fellow with an eye patch—Lord Cutbridge, hero of the Battle of Vitoria, no doubt—strode up and dipped his head in greeting. It was a nicety that Caroline would not have expected under the circumstances. He took her by the chin, gently turning her head this way and that as she strove to keep her gaze fixed directly in front of her.

“You have the face of a goddess,” he said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“A gentleman is to be called ‘sir' when you are given leave to speak to him, never by his actual name and title,” Mr. Llewellyn had instructed. “Except, of course, for the gentleman who buys you. He, you will address as ‘master.'”

Indicating the
Compendium
in his hand, Cutbridge said, “Is it true, as this book claims, that you take pleasure in the act of love?”

“Er . . . yes, sir.”

As if to test this claim, he stroked a fingertip back and forth along the seam of her sex through her gown, making her breath hitch.

“I do not care to share my bed with a lady who merely endures the act, or who feigns pleasure while thinking only of the money.”He caressed her lightly, deftly, inciting in Caroline a reflexive hum of arousal. “One may as well make love to a piece of furniture. And there are many such women in this world, far too many. I have had my fill of them. When I am inside a woman, I want to feel her writhe and tremble as her pleasure mounts. I want to feel her sex clutch at mine as she spends.”

Heat stung Caroline's cheeks as she felt herself grow damp, knowing he could feel it through the tissue-thin chiffon.

“Lovely,” he said with a smile. He opened his
Compendium
to the page with
ROSE
printed across the top in florid lettering, and made a notation she was able to read upside down:
Stunning and responsive.

After he left, a dignified, silver-haired man who had been awaiting his turn nearby stepped forward and proceeded to feel Caroline all over with detached thoroughness, as if she were a broodmare he was considering for purchase. He actually opened her mouth to scrutinize her teeth and gums.

He closed his hands over her breasts and squeezed them as if testing their resilience. “You've never been with child?”

“No, sir.”

“And you've been taken just the once?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

On her page, he wrote,
A near virgin, should be tight.

As he walked away, she closed her eyes and took in a deep, shaky breath. From her right came a barely audible whisper. “Be Rose.”

Caroline glanced surreptitiously to her right to find Lili winking at her as a bespectacled, scholarly looking fellow stood behind her, kneading her derriere with a thoughtful expression.

More men came and went. They peered at Caroline, fondled her, and questioned her about the most appalling things. Her only consolation lay in the fact that she was not alone. Every slave in the queue was enduring the same humiliating treatment, some with obvious discomfort and others, like Lili, with apparent equanimity.

Even Caroline, despite her embarrassment and apprehension, couldn't help but feel a stirring in her blood as strange hands groped and molded and explored her body. She found it oddly comforting to be manacled and tethered, and therefore utterly helpless to resist these lewd appraisals. It was as if the heavy collar and cuffs absolved her of responsibility for what was being done to her, freeing her to savor the sensations those strange hands provoked in her. At first, she was appalled at herself for taking pleasure in something so unseemly, but as she thought about it, she realized the coming week would be far more palatable if she could banish her reservations and play the role in which she had voluntarily cast herself.