The Abbey

She wandered around the room, touching the red velvet bedspread, and blinked at the chains embedded into the posts of the huge bed. "Why?" She shook her head. "Never mind, I can guess."

Jack slid an uneasy glance at the painting of a group of laughing villagers on the wall. There was something about the eyes of the figures in the painting... "Mrs Wyndham, we've got to get out of here."

"Maria, remember?" Her tone was chiding. "You can't call me by name here."

"Maria. We've got to go. If you are found here, your reputation will be ruined."

She nodded, but opened a cupboard beside the bed, and gasped. She reached inside and lifted out a cat o nine tails. She flicked it again her hand, and flinched. "It's real."

"Of course it's real. Come on, and I'll buy you one for yourself." A nagging sense of urgency was driving Jack. He'd had the same feeling at Talavera just before Ruffin's troops launched their midnight attack.

She ignored him, and picked up a carved wooden instrument. She lifted it to eye level to examine it properly.

Jack knocked it out of her hands. Seeing her holding that phallus offended something deep inside him. It hit the floor with a clatter and he grabbed it before she could touch it again.

"Why would a lady here need one of those?" She was fascinated by it.

"It's not intended for the lady." Jack could see the moment she understood. She turned bright red and she backed away, hand behind her back.

"Goodness."

The sound of bootheels in the hallway alerted him. A familiar voice said "I believe you have something special tonight?" He recognised the voice of Colonel Binchy.

The horror on Maria's face shocked him into action. He picked her up and flung her face down on the bed. She squealed in protest.

"Play along," he murmured and fastened one of her wrists to the binding on the post. In this position, no-one could see her face to identify her.

The door opened while he was fastening her other wrist.

Jack glared at the man framed in the doorway.

"This is a private room, go away."

Colonel Binchy nodded, but gazed at the figure on the bed. "What some help?"

"I can manage on my own." Jack picked up the discarded cat o'nine tails. "I'm going to teach this tart a lesson."

Maria gave a muffled protest, which both men ignored.

"Can I watch?"

"No!" Jack shoved him back and closed the door. He could hear the Madam's voice outside, speaking suggestively to Binchy.

"Let me up," Maria demanded.

He moved to unfasten her wrists, but paused. The sense of being watched was strong. It was a feeling that had saved his life several times in the past. He looked around casually. The eyes in the painting gleamed.

"We're being watched," he breathed, bending down to Maria. "We'll have to put on some sort of show for them."

"Oh."

Face down on the bed like that, she looked different. Her brown hair was a luxurious mass of curls that tumbled wildly. The dress had ridden up, revealing elegant ankles and calves that affected him more than full nakedness would have done. Her bottom was outlined by the thin silk of the dress, and begged him to caress it. The low neckline revealed the delicate skin of her neck and shoulders, an irresistible lure to his hands.

He wanted to ravage her.

He tried to decide what would satisfy the watchers, but which she would hate least. She had flinched when he touched her earlier, so he would try not to touch her again.

"Now, my pretty, you will pay for your mischief," he said in a voice that sounded theatrical to his ears. He grabbed the laces at the back of the dress, and tore them ruthlessly. The dress gaped open, revealing the vulnerable skin of her back to the room. And to the gaze of whoever was watching from behind the painting.

Jack picked up the cat o'nine tailed and flicked it in the air. God, he hoped he could do this right. "Brace yourself," he ordered, and swung it at her back.

She yelped, but it was more from fright than pain. Thank god, this might work.

Sometimes when an officer couldn't be bothered punishing a soldier himself, he would call in the blacksmith to whip him instead. Jack had plenty of practise at pulling his strokes.

There was a faint flush of pink on Maria's back. He leaned down to whisper to her. "Make lots of noise, as if I'm really hurting you, but don't speak." She nodded.

He stood back and swing the cat again.

This time she gave a loud groan. Again. Another groan, even louder. Was he hurting her?

Maria's back was tinted pink, but there were no whip marks. He swung again. He mistimed that one, and knew it hit harder than he had intended.

She finched and moaned, and her hips jerked.

The combination was so erotic he had to clench his teeth not to fall on top of her. He steadied his arm, swung again.

The pink deepened, and her hips continued to move afterwards. How much was real?

He swung again. His aim was off and one of the strands of the whip hit her side. She yelped and writhed.

He couldn't resist checking for damage. He felt along her back. The skin, so soft, so enticing, was warm but not damaged. When he slid his hand along her ribs, he brushed the side of her breast. She jerked. He whipped his hand back.

"More," she demanded.

He couldn't believe his ears. "More what?"

"More everything."

He picked up the whip and flicked it across her back again. This time, even he could not mistake the sound she made as anything but arousal.

He flicked again. She writhed against the bed, her dress riding up higher, revealing the line of her thighs.

Again. This time she sobbed in response. "Please."

He had no idea what to do, so he brushed the whip over her back again. Her hips jerked and she cried out.

He leaned down to her. "I'm sorry."

"Touch me, please." She fought against the restraints.

He ran his hands over her back and she moaned. He slid them inside the dress and along her ribs. When he brushed the sides of her breast, she whimpered--and twisted to give him better access.

He couldn't ignore that invitation. He pushed his hand all the way inside the ruined dress, and grasped the ripe fullness of her breast. The nipple stood out like a diamond. He wished he could see it, but was aware of the watchers who would also see it.

She rubbed herself against him. He tightened his grip on her nipple and rolled it between his fingers. She was panting now, and writhing against the bed.

"Please," she sobbed.

He lowered himself over her, and pushed his other hand underneath, to hold her other breast. She pushed herself into his hands, and twisted so that her back was being caressed by the hair on his chest.

He tightened his grasp and bent to kiss her neck. She made a high pitched noise which spurred him on. He nipped at her delicate ear. She stiffened dramatically and let out a loud wail. An unmistakable wail.

He twisted to see her face. She was panting, her eyes were closed and a hectic flush rode her cheekbones. She was the very picture of a satiated female.

Jack was as hard as a pike. He felt he could have hammered nails with his cock, and would have given everything he owned to fall on Maria and finish what they had started. But this was not the time or place. He allowed himself to rub against her once more, then moved back.

"I'm going to take you home now. You stay there like a good little girl, and I'll settle up." He spoke in a loud voice, and reluctantly stood up. The pain in his balls nearly doubled him over, but he ignored it and grabbed his shirt.

When he turned back, the watchers were gone.

He released the bindings on Maria's wrists and helped her up. He tried not to look at where her gown gaped over her breasts. Those breast that he had felt. She pulled the dress up quickly.

"I apologise for that," he said formally. He handed her the cloak, and they left without speaking.