The Virgin of Greenbrier: The Greenbrier Trilogy, Book One

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Dr. Addams took Lucretia to his private office. It was the same one she had been in when her father had sold her into this life. This time they sat in the two side chairs, not as doctor and patient, but as two people trying to reach an agreement. The doctor had even given Lucretia a dressing gown to wear as a gesture of respect. Tea was brought in by the mute girl Lucretia had seen earlier, along with the partially touched breakfast tray.

Without being asked, Lucretia reached over and poured their tea into the delicate rose and gold patterned cups. She never had eaten the muffin earlier and had probably lost it someplace in her dash to the barn. “I’m sorry about everything,” she said, a different type of shame making her hands tremble.

“As am I.” He set his own cup aside. “I’m going to be very direct with you, Lucy. If I am known for anything, it is telling people exactly what I think whether they like it or not. You do not like what I tell you even when you know it to be true.” She looked down into the tea cup. “You do not disgust me in the way you think I meant. Nor do I believe that you hate me in the way I felt you said it.”

“We’re a lot alike, aren’t we?”

“I’m afraid so,” Dr. Addams admitted. “There is an old saying that states we hate in others what we do not like or want to see in ourselves. Therein lays all the faults we perceive in the people we meet. Even those we may well admire.”

Lucretia put her cup down. “I’d never heard that before.” What was it she disliked about the doctor the most? Answer; the way he was always telling her what to do or how to act. It was the same way she had treated her own slaves at home, the very same way. “What do you see in me then that you don’t like?”

He grinned. “I was about to ask you the very same thing. You are far too stubborn for your own good. When we both get that way, as has been the case these past two days, we are like mountain goats butting our heads together.” He paused, watching her with those steady, blue eyes that somehow seemed to see right into her soul. “What is it about me you hate so much?”

She knew she blushed. “You’re terribly bossy, sir.”

Dr. Addams burst out laughing as if refreshed by her candor. “Yes, yes, I suppose I am. It comes from being the Master.”

Lucretia liked the sound of his laugh. “Does that mean I’m bossy, too?”

“You tell me. Does it?”

“I can be.”

Dr. Addams leaned back. “Tell me something else. What do you like about me? Is there anything?” Lucy felt her cheeks bloom with color and her eyes suddenly went shy. “There is something, isn’t there?” She nodded, but did not answer. “Shall I tell you what I find attractive in you?” Lucretia was not accustomed to compliments. Her whole demeanor changed when he even hinted at praise. She cringed inside. “In addition to your physical attributes which I personally find delightful, you are intelligent and well-read. That is admirable in anyone and especially so in a lady.”

“Thank you, sir.” It was all she could say, but warmth had her face blazing.

“Your turn.”

Lucretia’s fingers twisted together. “I think you are a very handsome man, sir, when you are being a gentleman.” Her words were shaking. “And I liked this morning very much, after I’d gotten the fire going again.”

“So did I,” he reached out, resting his hand on top of hers. “I’m going to ask you to do something, Lucy. Do it only if you truly desire to do it and be honest with yourself. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

He moved his chair closer. “Only if you want to and if you do not, I’ll send for your father today. You can go home and have whatever other life he wishes for you.”

Dread filled her in an instant. “What do you wish me to do, Sir?” She even dared to glance up at him. Anything was better than returning to her father’s home and being under his rule.

“It would please me if you removed that dressing gown, walked over to me, and knelt at my feet.” Lucy’s stomach soured. “Do that and I’ll know you wish to stay, and you will be here because you want to be, not because it is something someone else wishes for you.”

Lucretia considered. “A rock and a hard place, sir,” she finally said. Of course, she already knew she’d do as he requested. Compared to the past two days, it really wasn’t so terrible a request. “I do not wish to be in either place, but there is one I am more drawn to.”

“The choice is yours.”

She rose and turned her back to him. Lucretia untied the belt of the robe and let the garment slide from her shoulders. Lucy looked at her bare feet, her heart racing in her chest, her palms sweating. The lump that had formed in her throat was choked back down as she turned to face him.

He was beaming and though he never spoke a word as she approached, Lucretia could see how much he desired her. She felt sexy and whorish and to her surprise, she liked it. Once she had crossed the distance between them, Lucretia knelt and remembered something he had told her before, not to look into his eyes unless it was requested. She was raging inside for him. His slightest touch would have sent tremors through her.

His voice had the same effect. “Beautiful.” He did not move, but drank her in with his eyes, slowly studying every curve and swell of her twenty-year-old body. Goose bumps prickled her smooth skin, and her n*****s stirred to life. “Tell me your thoughts, Lucy.”

She was as still as a statue, her eyes cast down, her hands resting on her thighs. “I am thinking of you, sir,” she replied with honesty.

The chair creaked as he sat forward. “And what do you think of me?”

Could she really say what she thought? Could she tell him how handsome he was, and how his voice made her tingle all over, and how she longed for him to kiss her and touch her again? Lucretia was awake. This was no dream. This was real and happening; and, for the first time since arriving, she did not want it to be anything else. “I think, sir,” she said, “I think I would like to stay and be with you, if I may?”

“You are sure you understand what it means to belong to me, my pet?”

“Yes, I’m sure, sir.”

“I don’t think you do. You will grow to hate me for some of the things I will do to you and the things I will make you do to yourself and others.”

She was determined. “But if my only choice is to return to my father’s rule, I would rather be yours than his.”

“Then that is what you will be, mine. Mine of your own free will, a will that shall be surrendered to me as your Master.”

She wanted to look up at him then something more dawned on her. He may be the one giving the orders, but it was up to her to obey or not. But wasn’t that exactly what he had been trying to tell her all this time? This would never have been the case under her father’s roof. Lucretia suddenly felt empowered and knew, without a doubt, she had made the right choice. She could still be strong and willful. Dr. Addams had already told her he enjoyed her intelligence. In some crazy way, Lucretia felt liberated by agreeing to be this man’s slave.

“That is a lovely smile, little one.”

She’d not realized how much she was smiling. “Thank you, sir.” It felt good to be here and to know she had made that decision, not the doctor and not her father. Her.

“Now that we are on the same page, there is something else I want you to do. Are you good at memorization?”

“Fairly good.”

“A week from today I am going to ask you two questions. The first question I will give you the answer to. The second one, you will answer based on how you feel. My first question will be to ask you why you are here. You will answer that you are here to bring me pleasure, to obey my orders, and to accept my domination over you.”

Lucretia’s jaw tensed, “And the second?”

“The second, are you here of your own free will? For now, please get up and finish your tea and breakfast. It may be Sunday, but it will hardly be as restful as what you are accustomed to.”

Once they had finished, Dr. Addams took Lucretia to the bedroom that would be hers. She was given a Bible to keep there and allowed the remainder of the morning to spend as she wished in her room. The doctor excused himself to attend to business. Lucretia was not at all surprised when she heard the lock click into place. It didn’t matter. The room was lovely and comfortable, and she looked forward to it being hers.

Lucretia had every intention of sitting down to read some of the Scriptures, but found herself instead investigating every little thing in the room. She pulled open the top drawer of the vanity. At most, she expected to find her own undergarments. At least she would expect the drawer to be empty. Neither was the case. Inside the drawer was a box. Inside the box were five objects the likes of which she had never seen before. They were carved of wood and painted black and shaped like long, narrow spinning tops. These tops, or whatever they might be, were sanded very smooth, and each was about six inches in length. One end was narrow and the other had some sort of carved knob or handle. They increased in size gradually, starting out no bigger around than her thumb and moving up to one that was about the size of her clenched fist. She returned the box and its mysterious contents to the drawer then searched the others. They were empty. The free-standing closet was locked.

A small bookcase stood near a comfortable chair in the corner. Half a dozen books rested on it, leaving ample room for more. She stood delighted at the sight of titles in French, titles she had never heard of before; Aline et Valcoure, Philosophie Dans Le Boudoir, Justine, and Juliette. But the one that caught her eye and shocked her the most was Les 120 Journees De Sodome. “The hundred and twenty days of Sodom,” Lucretia read aloud.

The author, one she had never known, for all these works was Marquis de Sade. She let the final title stand in place and, instead, withdrew from the shelf the simple “Justine”. Lucretia opened it at random, hoping for a light, French romance.

“Madame de Bressac was carried back to her room and thrown upon her bed. And her unworthy son, seeing that she was still living, placed a dagger into Justine’s hand, seized the arm that held this weapon, and guided it, despite all the unfortunate girl’s resistance, into the heart of the unhappy lady who died imploring God’s pardon on her son.

“Do you see the murder you have just committed?” said the barbarous Bressac to the almost unconscious Justine who was soaked in the blood of her mistress. “Look, can there be anywhere in the world a more shocking act? You shall be punished for it, you must be; you shall be broken alive on the wheel; you shall be burnt.”

Lucretia snapped the book shut and would read no more. This book should be burnt, she thought, this book and probably all the others here with it. These things she would not read.

She went to her window. It was growing into a sunny day and Lucretia wished only to catch a glimpse of what her view would be for the duration of her stay here. The view was nothing short of a nightmare. The courtyard without was entirely closed in. She realized that this house was built like a square with all interior rooms having the same hideous view as her own. In the middle of what should have been a quiet garden, stood a large, metal cage. It was large in that it could easily have held half a dozen adults.

To its left and right stood low, wooden crosses. Chains swayed from the arms of the crossbeams. Directly below her window was a whipping post, identical to the one she had already suffered on. Beyond the cage, across the courtyard, had been erected two stocks. It was a garden of torture. At the moment it was empty. She dropped the curtain back into place but could still see too much of what was out there.

“To give me pleasure, to obey my orders, and to accept my domination over you.” his voice echoed back at her. “Are you here of your own free will?”

Lucretia backed away from the window, her hand went to her partially parted lips. Her eyes were wide in disbelief. “What have I agreed to?” She had been given the choice and thought she had understood what it all meant. Clearly, she had not. If this is what they kept in the garden, what horrors must there be hidden in the house itself? She sat on the edge of the bed, stunned. Going home was not an option. Her father’s house would never be hers again. This was her home for at least the next three months, if she lived that long. Lucretia started to laugh. She was surrounded by the sumptuous and s****l, the perverted and profane. This was the lap of luxury, the home of a wealthy man, and one she was attracted to like no other. And it was her worst nightmare.