The Virgin of Greenbrier: The Greenbrier Trilogy, Book One

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

All through the night Lizzy watched and listened. Each time Lucy said please, pleasure was given to her. Dr. Addams asked nothing more of Lucretia and demanded even less, just that single word “Please”.

Sleep came and went. By morning, all those before her lay exhausted in a tangle of blankets and limbs. Elizabeth hung in her restraints. Her arms and legs burned with pain. Sleep would have been her only escape if she could have gotten any. She did not regret what she had done to Lucretia. Only getting caught in the lie was something to be sorry for. Elizabeth glared at them, all asleep for now and something vile began to burn in her mind. She would obey and she would submit just as she always had, for now. She had done everything he had asked her and had loved doing it. She had taken his sadistic side and obeyed his will for a very long time. Her lessons had been learned; and, at the soonest possible moment, he would learn his. The very image he had himself described flashed before her eyes; the Master strung up from the nearest tree. Somehow, with the butt plug still clenched between her teeth, Elizabeth managed to smile.

Beauregard woke first. As much as he hated to do it, he had to disengage himself from the two women who shared his bed. Cassy opened her eyes at his touch. With a gesture he told her to remain quiet. She moved to let him leave the bed then curled up again under the warm blankets. Oblivious, Lucretia slept too deeply to dream. As quietly as possible the doctor freed Elizabeth from the foot of the bed and took the butt plug from her mouth. Groaning in pain from the stiffness of her outstretched limbs, she sank to the floor at his feet. His anger and feelings of betrayal still stung him hard. While she lay there, he lubricated the stopper and reinserted it into her bottom.

“Master?” Cassandra turned to him as he slid back into bed beside her. He looked so happy and content. It was something she had never seen in him before. “Abby will need Lizzy and me in the kitchen soon, sir. Should I go and help her or send others by your order?” As his first acquired and highest ranking slave, Cassandra held a certain degree of authority in the house when needed.

He nodded, pointing to his ring of keys on the side table. “Yes, my dear. Take Elizabeth with you. Cuff and lock her to her bed. Mary is still on kitchen duty, so get Sarah to take Lizzy’s place.”

“Yes, Master.” Her eyes smiled and she looked at him, “Master?”

“Yes?”

“May I speak freely for a moment, Sir?”

He nodded.

“You were wonderful last night, sir, and this morning you’re more relaxed than you’ve been in a long time.”

His smile broadened and she noticed that his hand lightly stroked Lucretia’s bare shoulder. “Thank you.”

In the quiet solitude of morning, after Cassy had dragged Elizabeth from the room, the doctor lay in bed watching Lucretia sleep. “My little, exhausted pet. Such a busy night you had and still I must keep you a virgin.” He had wanted to take her last night on more than one occasion. Her deflowering, he regretted, would not be his this time. His finger traced the round curve of her cheek. He ached to wake her. Despite the fullness of the night’s activities and the numerous times Cassandra had worked her Creole charms, his desire had not slackened. In fact, if anything, it was stronger than ever. But he would remain in control of everything, including himself. There was no other choice. Instead of waking her, Beauregard pulled her to his chest, felt her stir just enough to get comfortable then sink back to slumber. He lay there but a few minutes, wondering things he had not wondered in years, before sinking down into sleep.

Morning slid into afternoon. After his second waking, Beauregard had reluctantly returned Lucy to the small dungeon room and started his usual day of appointments, but his thoughts were never far from her. He had quieted his urge to free Lucretia from the constraints of the corner. She was here to be trained, not pampered. She had already had plenty of that. Of this, he had to remind himself almost constantly. They had enjoyed an intense evening of pleasure and she had yielded to him beautifully, but it was only one evening and that was all it was. No matter how he tried, the cold stare she had given him at the breakfast table the previous morning would not leave his mind’s eye.

Lucretia was doing only what she had agreed to do. He, as Master and teacher, could expect little else from her. She had stated her mind quite clearly and if there was hope that she would change it so quickly, he was unaware of it. She had been placed in his care and under his authority but she was her own person and intended by her own admission to remain as such. She would never truly be his. She would only end up leaving him anyway, like all the others. Like Mary soon would, like Elizabeth as well. And like Christine.

His eyes closed against the image of his former wife, but it only grew more defined. If only she had understood. She had been terrified of him those last weeks together. He doubted he would even know his own son if they met in the street. Michael would be fifteen by now, almost a full-grown man and how pretty his little girl must be, his darling Helen. With a grunt he shoved it all away. They were the past. He could not change the life that had been denied him and a role he would never have again.

More news arrived about John Brown. The fool abolitionist had been taken into custody and would soon be on his way to Charlestown and the law. Beauregard hoped this time the law would have the common sense to hang the man. If they did, he wanted a front row seat for the occasion. Thursday he would ride into Winchester, get a newspaper, and catch up on his visiting. He seldom went into town, sending servants most of the time, but the doctor felt he needed to get away. Vivianne was to arrive on Friday. Tomorrow was Lucretia’s last day of confinement and he could not be away for that.

With the daily dose of paperwork complete, Beau extinguished the lanterns around the room. He needed to check on Rose, the pregnant woman Lucy had seen in the stable. She was due any day and had been brought into the small infirmary he kept. There were only four beds, and they were seldom ever all in use. Rose had been found in the stable the very same morning Lucretia had arrived. Whether there of her own accord or placed there by another, he did not know. Hopes of her or the child’s survival after birth were not the brightest. The mother was ill, feverish, and would eat almost nothing. It had been a sheer moment of fortune that they have even gotten her name from her. She had spoken nothing but gibberish since her transfer inside.

The infirmary was dark and warm. A cast iron stove occupied one end of the large room. Along the outer walls, beds had been placed, two on each side. Only two were occupied, one by Rose and one by the returned slave. The slave rested on her belly, her back uncovered but for a healing salve. She was doing well and would be released soon. The other patient was not so well on the road to recovery. Rose was gaunt and pale. Sighing with resignation, the doctor pulled over the chair to sit beside her. The delicate, mute slave slipped out from the curtained off supply room and came to his side.

“She won’t make it,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping woman. “Has she eaten today?” The girl shook her head. He did not have a lot of experience with childbirth, leaving it to the midwives and women whose business he thought it was. At this point, it did not matter who she was or where she came from. Keeping her alive was the challenge and saving the life of the child even greater.

Her forehead was burning hot. Pulling back the blanket he examined and felt her distended stomach. The child within, thankfully, responded with movement. Spreading the light blanket back over his patient, he turned to the girl. “Try to get her to take some broth, Melissa. Keep a close eye on her tonight and if she gets any worse come get me at once.” The water in the basin beside the bed was room temperature. “Get two buckets of water and two fresh linens. Soak the linens and keep one just outside the door so it stays cold. The other, wring out as best you can and cover her with it. If we can bring down the fever, she may make it. I’ll send someone to help you.” As was her way, the youngest of his slaves kissed his hand. She understood and would do as he told her. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning.” Melissa was a natural at nursing, even at just seventeen years old. He knew Rose would be in very capable hands during the night. Next, he turned to his other patient.

She smiled as he approached. “Ev’nin, Massa Beau.”

“Evening. How are you doing tonight?”

“Real well, sah. I is so happy he broughts me back to you. I din’t like Massa Russel, sah.”

He examined the worst of the gashes along her bare back. “I’m not so sure I care for him either, Lottie. Don’t fear. You won’t go back to him.”

“Thank you, Massa Beau. You is a good man.”

He chuckled and lowered his voice. “Don’t let that get around, Lottie. It will ruin my reputation.”

She smiled. “I wont’s tell a soul, sah.”

The room was dark and cool. Lucy lay curled up under a blanket doing her best to sleep when the sound of the door unlocking drew her attention. After this morning, she’d been certain he’d take her back to his bed that night, but the darkness fell again without seeing him. Other than people bringing food and drink, she’d spent the entire day alone. With no windows to tell her the passing of time, Lucy could only guess what hour it was by the meals she was served. After dinner, it was clear to her she was just another one of his girls. Hope of anything else faded. Not that she wanted anything else, of course.

The blanket was torn away, sending a wave of cold over her already chilled body. He did not speak, but unlocked the chain and turned away. His indifference was clear. When he sat down, the look he gave her was dull and emotionless. Lucretia sat up and stretched. When she looked a second time, his eyes were shut and his head was tipped back on the chairs tall headrest. No order had been given. No word has been said. Clearing her throat got no response, even when she did it twice. His legs were sprawled out and his whole body sagged as if he’d fallen asleep. For a moment, her feelings softened.

But the emotion was fleeting. She did not want him for anything, but she must at least pretend she did in order to make it through this whole ordeal, “Sir?”

“Yes, pet.” That he answered at all startled her.

“What do you want me to do?”

His state of outward response did not change, and his tone was as dull and emotionless as the look he’d given her. “Whatever you wish, pet.”

Did this mean she could get up and leave? More likely it was a trap, a test of some sort to see if she would push back again. Instead of going to him, Lucretia went to the fire. It had been stocked a few hours ago, but she added another log and sat down on the hearth to get warm. She wished she had a chair to sit in and a cup of hot tea to hold.

“I’d like to know about your wife, sir.”

After a long pause, he pulled himself up to sitting and looked at her. “I do not have a wife.”

“But you did.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Where is she now?” Lucretia knew from what Abby had said that she was treading on thin ice and any information she got was not going to be easy.

He looked away. “I don’t know. I do not wish to talk about her, Lucy.”

So, Lucretia thought, he does have feelings after all, but none for me. In fact, he is probably sick of me already and looks forward to the day I leave.

“Did you love her?” She pushed just a little more.

“I do not wish to talk about it.” The cold stare was back. “Come here.”

She put on the face she wore because she did not want him to know she felt anything at all for him, and went to kneel at his feet. It was a waste to feel anything but contempt for him. His legs parted and she knew what he wanted. The buttons slid under her fingers much more gracefully than they had the day before. His c**k was soft and yielding in her hand. With new skills, though unperfected, Lucretia took him into her mouth. At first there was no response, only the flaccid member; and, suddenly, it became a challenge, a quest, a feeling of some sort of power over this thing when all these days she’d felt like she had none. Her hand cupped his softly haired sack to gently squeeze and work its contents. With the other, she held his shaft and with her mouth she suckled the tip. He sighed and let his head lean back once more, eyes closed.

Isn’t this what he had dreamed of, Lucretia kneeling between his legs, submitting, bringing him pleasure? He thought it was. Her tight little mouth took him in as her hands stroked and worked his s*x. This was what he was supposed to want. Her ministrations became more intent, more focused. With her tongue she licked his inner thighs then kissed his balls and ran the wetness up the length of his c**k to once more take in the head and the upper portion of the shaft. He grabbed the back of her head and pushed her face down hard over the member. Violence, roughness, the need to be in total control at all times, it all washed over him swiftly.

Rape her, his mind said. r**e her here and now and get it over with. Ravage her, possess her, and make her yours as no other man has done before.

He was rock hard. Both hands gripped the sides of her head, covering her ears so that all sound was muffled, even her own whimpers. Deeper and harder and faster he forced himself into her mouth as the grip on her head grew. Lucretia’s hands flailed out, trying to find something to hold onto as he invaded her mouth, but all she could find were his knees. These she grasped, trying to push herself away, to escape. But the more her protests became obvious, the tighter he held on. His legs were wrapped around her, the hard soles of his boots jammed against her bottom, pulling her in. She reached up blindly, grabbing his arms. The pumping in her mouth was a blur. His c**k swelled and throbbed and, in the back of her throat, she screamed. Nothing she did would release his grip. Her hands clawed at whatever they could find.

“You are mine!” he bellowed, holding her in place while pumping his fluid into her mouth and throat, forcing it down her. It felt as if his fingers were going to pop through the back of her skull. Filling her mouth beyond what it could hold and when he knew she had swallowed, if not all, at least some, he pushed her away. Nothing could have prepared her for the look she saw on his face. It wasn’t rage. It was lust, maddening want and lust, and it said she was his just as loudly as his voice. Lucretia coughed, trying to wipe the sticky liquid from her face and crying at the same time. When he stood, she instinctively tried to scramble away. There was no fight in her, only flight. No sooner had she turned on her hands and knees to escape than he grabbed her around the waist, dragging her backwards. His body bent over her back, holding her to the floor. Fevered breath panted in her ear. “You are mine, Lucretia Borgia. You are mine, and you always will be mine.” She kicked and thrashed, making futile attempts at escape. The pressure lifted from her back, but her hair was taken next. He half dragged, half led her back to the corner with it. The padlock was snapped back into place. The door slammed behind him.

Crumpled in the corner, gasping for breath and shivering, Lucretia sobbed. She did not cry because of the pain or humiliation. Nor did she cry because of anything he had said or done. She cried because deep inside, in a place she did not understand or want to go, and a place she feared more than anywhere else, she knew she wanted to be his.