Wish Granted Ch. 09

It was so early that it was dark when Danetta arrived at her father's house. She had secretly rented a carriage instead of using her husband's. She knocked on the door several times. She rung a little bell near the door at least three times. By the time her father had finally answered the door, Danetta was reconsidering her decision.

Oh well, she was there. Might as well go through with it.

Her father was bleary eyed and red in the face when he answered. Danetta smiled and nodded her head. "Good morning, Father. I came to inspect your health."

He stepped aside but sneered as he did it. "Why come so early, eh?"

She didn't want to tell him that her husband had forbidden her from associating with him. Lines of discomfort formed around her eyes as she entered the poorly lit building. Her fingers tightened around her silken reticule hanging around her waist. "I'm afraid I have an abounding schedule. I could only come at this time." She cautiously noted the random, old food encrusted, pots and pans littered about the place. Everything was dusty and reeking of something foul.

"Why, Dear Father!" She honestly was worried over the situation. "You haven't been able to hire any servants since your debt was paid?"

His hand flung into the air. "Such a conceited, ungrateful little whelp! Who are you to judge your father so heartlessly?!"

Danetta took a step back. "I'm terribly sorry! It was not my intention to insult you!" She even gave him a little curtsy as she apologized. "I came here to help you!"

"Oh! The mighty Duchess has come to patronize me!" His body was off-kilter as he paced around the room, giving her bitter looks. "The elegant Duchess walks on a road of diamonds and dines with the gods of Henrisk, while her poor father suffers in near poverty!"

"I don't understand!" Danetta was shaking her head. The looping braids of her coiffure drummed against her cheeks. Her father should be happy! He should be experiencing less stress. He shouldn't need any alcohol or gambling or anything of the sort. He shouldn't have any costs draining him. Life should be completely endurable for him.

She untied the cord of her reticule and held it out to him. It was a favored object, a gift from her beloved Erdgar, given soon after the first time she had been bound on a bed for him. The silk wasn't decorated with colored wooden or glass beads, as an average reticule would be. It had little gemstones and silver threads. In Danetta's mind, her father would take the pouch, pour the contents into his palm, and then return the pouch. That was his preferred method of taking cash.

"I wanted to give you a pinch of money," Danetta said lowering her head. His business must not have been doing as well as he had hoped. "You seemed to want some the last time we spoke."

"Are you offering me your pocket change?!" His hands were shaking. Veins were pulsing in his wrists.

"Pocket change? There's gold in here! Take the money, please!"

He snatched the bag away, but he didn't empty it. He simply put the actual bag into a pocket of his. "I'll take this, then. It should be worth something, not enough to atone for the stress of your upbringing, but it's something."

No. No way.

Danetta shook her head again and approached him, her palm extended. "Please, return my reticule. You were meant to have the money inside."

A crack of a sound rang in the air.

Danetta's cheek burned. Her fingers clutched her face. She fled the building. The rented carriage was still waiting on her.

***

Like a silent creature of the morning waiting for its prey to come to it, Erdgar was patiently standing outside the entrance of the townhouse when his wife returned home. As the rented carriage left, Danetta stood before him with stiff limbs. Her eyes were heavy. They were pulled to the hem of her walking dress, which seemed to brighten under the gentle light of the rising sun.

His voice was so quiet ... so horribly quiet.

"Why did you tiptoe out of the house like a thief?"

Danetta's breath seemed to freeze in her throat.

"Are you hiding something from me?"

She nodded. He'd find out eventually. Why bother with a lie?

"Are you going to stop hiding it?"

Danetta's nose heated up. She nodded again.

"Very well." The joints of his fingers popped; the leather gloves scrunched. "First, why is your cheek so pink? I know you've always used rouge with appropriate balance."

Tears were coming. She could see them, feel them, and she soon tasted them. The colors of the pathway, her dress, her shoes, they all blended in her vision like paints.

"I've disrespected my husband."

"You have?"

She wanted to perish.

"I went to see to my father's needs, despite my husband's forbiddance."

A brief sequence of heavy footsteps rang in her ears as the man moved closer.

And then, out in public, she was being embraced by soft clothes and firm muscles.

"Come inside, Danetta. Have a rest before breakfast."

The couple went inside the townhouse.

Tiny gasps were puffing out of her all the way through the rooms, stairways, and hallways. Her husband led her to her bedroom and sat her down on the comfortable mattress. He seated himself beside her and leisurely ran his sheathed hand up and down her spine. Even through the layers of her clothing, even through his glove, Danetta felt him, adored him, and her feet cooled as more disgrace crept into her consciousness.

She found her voice again. "I'm terribly, terribly sorry, Dear Master. I hope you can forgive me."

"Hush about that, Danetta." His hand patted her shoulder. "After breakfast, I want you to walk with me to your favorite book store. Fetch that pretty little sack you love so well."

Her brain seemed to drop into her stomach. She pulled a soft handkerchief from a hidden pocket and blotted her eyes. "I ... I don't have it anymore."

"You hesitated, Danetta. I'm concerned." Erdgar's fingers went to her upper arms, and he tugged her to him. She felt cloth and warmth against her brow. Something behind the fabric moved. Danetta figured out that he was kissing her through his mask.

"If I tell you the truth, you might commit a murder."

He leaned back and said, "I promise I won't."

Her fingers pressed her handkerchief into her lap. "I offered money to my father. He took the money and the reticule. I tried to explain that he was only meant to have the money, but he slapped me, and I left."

"Oh." Erdgar hugged her again, the pressure of his hands seeming to unearth a sluggish feeling from her body. He crooned through his mask. "Ohhhhh ... poor little bird."

"Husband?" She was resting her face against his sturdy physique. He smelled fresh and spicy. "Are you going to do something drastic?"

"No, no, don't fret." He patted her paler cheek and stood up. "You should have your reticule soon after you finish breakfast."

She shot up and grabbed his arm. "Please! Master! I know he did wrong, but I must beg you to have mercy!"

"Mercy?" Erdgar gently pried her hand away as he turned back around to face her. "Are you concerned with society and gossip? I can't think of another reason why you'd say such a ridiculous thing."

"He's my father, as vicious as he is. Nothing can change that."

There was a silence between them for a moment. Erdgar seemed to observe her, and even though Danetta was completely in the dark concerning his features, she knew there was a great potency in his eyes. She was almost thankful when he finally broke the silence.

"I'm still going," he told her softly, "but I won't break any of his bones." He left her in the room, and Danetta knew she couldn't convince him to leave the matter alone.

Breakfast was mouthwatering. There was aged, smoked bacon, thickly cut and fried carefully. There were two poached eggs, shiny and white. Then there were two slices of heavy toast practically coated in the sweetest of jams. Danetta wanted to enjoy the meal. She chewed slowly, put on a smile every time she swallowed, but she couldn't find the joy. Even though her belly was filled with the nutritious food, Danetta felt empty. Not even her cup of tea could complete her.

When her husband returned to her, he was carrying her bejeweled reticule, and he was in a very cheerful mood. He hadn't taken the gold that was in the reticule, it seemed, but Danetta was satisfied with that. Her face warmed.

Such a protective husband!

***

To my Lord Duke, Lord of Duvanu,

I do apologize if I have caused you any irritation. My intentions have always been noble. Considering Mr. Batren Saivio, I had hoped to gain more favor with your elegant wife by showing courtesy to her family. Considering His Grace, Duke Bransted of Wyden and his honorable sister, I had hoped to reclaim all of our lost friendships, to make peace, and find hope in the future. I hope that you will forgive me, my dear friend.

With Affection,

Marchioness Lillitu Masen, Lady of Kloen

***

While standing in one of the formal rooms, Erdgar had read the letter out loud to his wife that afternoon, soon after she had finished a buoyant lunch. Danetta didn't have too great an opinion on the letter. Lillitu's response had been polite and reasonable.

"It stands to reason," Erdgar said, folding the letter and putting it into a pocket, "that at least the Bransted siblings will turn up at Lillitu's ball tonight."

"I have no concerns over that," Danetta said to him, smiling. She put her pale hand into his leather glove, and she gave a playful little tug. "I'm concerned about you, though. Won't you come to my bedroom and let me please you?"

He shook his head.

A surge of obstinacy was putting tasty thoughts into Danetta's head. She wanted to kiss his flesh. She wanted to hear him grunt and sigh with longing.

Danetta leaned against him and whispered, "You won't need to revel yourself to me. I only want to see one part of you."

She felt his chest muscles twitch under his clothes. She thought it would be good to take advantage of the interest he didn't want to admit he had. She put her weight on the balls of her feet so her lips could hover near his hidden ear, or where she assumed his ear was located. "You've tasted me so many times, but I'd love to taste you."

"Oh. Hm." Erdgar squeezed her hand as his voice lowered. "Something could be arranged, I suppose. Come, then."

Everything was perfectly fine. Life was excellent. Danetta had a husband who cherished her, cared for her, made her feel as if the world was her playground. It was only fair to show her appreciation.

When they were safely locked away in her bedroom, Danetta frowned, because Erdgar was going to a desk drawer, where the blindfold was kept.

At her disapproving look, Erdgar said, "Forgive me, Darling. I've yet to gather enough courage, but I won't put a single rope on your body."

Her fingers loosened. Her heart ached, but in a way that felt wonderful. She smiled at him as he picked up the black blindfold and closed the drawer. As he walked towards her, she knelt down to the floor and spread her skirts under her knees, hoping she seemed attractive.

Erdgar soon stood over her, and he bent down to tie the blindfold over her head. Danetta knew that without any ropes, she could have sneakily touched him. Even as she heard Erdgar unbutton his breeches, she didn't do that. Even as she heard his drawers slide down his thighs, she didn't do it. Her fingers were firmly held in her lap.

What she did do was lick her lips, smile, and say very winsomely, "I've never done this before, but I'm grateful to know my husband will teach me well."

Familiar and benign leather tips skimmed across her cheeks. A sticky, musky scent was floating near her face. "Ah, Danetta," her husband said hoarsely, "you're such an affectionate wife."

Then came the instructions.

A little at first.

Don't scrape with the teeth.

Pull back if you can't take anymore.

Breathe through your nose.

And the most wonderful part of it all was how smooth the flesh of his erection was. Her lips stretched around it. Her saliva oozed out and slid down her chin. The thrusting, rocking motions in her mouth were starting to put an ache in her jaw, but she tried to ignore it.

The rough, animalistic noises coming from above urged her on. Her husband was happy. Empathy was sending fun little pleasure signals through her brain, and her pussy pulsed against her folded legs. Her hands clamped against each other. His potent taste and aroma filled her senses.

Leather was against the braids at the back of her head. There was more leather against her nape. He was nearly controlling her head. Danetta didn't mind. She was eagerly listening to him.

"Damn ... oh fuck! Yes!"

She thought the best thing to do would be to hum deep in her throat. She imagined the vibration would please him, and she was proven right when Erdgar slammed himself into her with a much faster pace. The back of her throat was being tapped. She had to be careful not to cough up something. Still, Danetta wished she could take in more of him.

There was a long, deep moan, and the erection paused.

And her instincts reacted violently to hot, gooey liquid flooding her mouth. Danetta coughed, and her chin was covered. Liquid dripped and tickled down her neck.

The erection slipped out.

"Wait."

Danetta didn't even nod.

Her husband's body heat left her. She heard his shoes against the floor. Then he returned and a damp cloth was wiped against her neck and face. He even let her spit into the cloth.

"Are you thirsty?"

Danetta nodded that time.

She had to wait a few minutes for him to get a glass of water for her. The water was delightfully cool. After a few swallows were taken, her blindfold was removed.

Erdgar was fully dressed, fully covered, and she was happy to see him.

***

Carefully dressed in a gown of celestial blue with bright orange ribbons and white lace, Lady Bethaline Bransted glided down the row of filled chairs, her brother, Duke Kristof Bransted, at her side. Their expensive shoes rapped against the polished floor of the dancing hall that Lillitu had rented so it could be turned into an official ballroom.

"Quite a few wallflowers here," her brother said with a grin. "It's quite dull. Why in the world did you insist on answering that woman's invitation?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that question?" Her lips pouted. "Shouldn't you be excited? Your favorite little blonde should be here soon."

And right after she said that, her eye caught a cloud of pale braids adorned with white pearls, pale blue gemstones, and orchid pink ribbons. Her body was every bit as spoiled as a Duchess should have been, Bethaline supposed. She was encased in a pink gown, the same shade as her ribbons. Every single white bow-knot on her outfit had little brooches of pearls and blue jewels pinned to their centers. Matching stones glittered down from her ears and throat.

Her brother mixed his laughter in with his next statement. "Ha! It seems the only way the husk can keep a woman happy ... hm, ah ... is by putting baubles on her skin!"

Bethaline couldn't think of a worthy comment. She was too busy studying that man who so protectively held onto the Duchess' arm, Duke Adurant. He seemed completely unperturbed with the occasional stare. It wasn't too long ago that he was hiding in his castle, too bashful to be seen by his peers, even with his face hidden. What changed?

Her brother seemed to have been thinking the same thing, because he offered an answer. "Now that he has a pretty wife, he thinks he can parade her about and be happy with himself. I'll bet he can't even rise from the marriage bed."

Rise from the marriage bed meant to have an erection.

Bethaline patted his hand and smiled. She whispered to him, "If he hasn't taken her to bed, then it's possible he hasn't shown her his face."

At first, the siblings tittered at the thought as the seemingly happy couple moved on.

Then, Bethaline realized that Kristof's eyebrows were lowering in thought.

Bethaline sighed and looked about the ballroom. She saw a yellow gown covering a short woman. Lillitu. That was Lillitu. Bethaline's throat and bosom warmed. She excused herself from her brother and walked over to the short woman.

***

Danetta was dancing. She was actually dancing.

Music was pounding in her body.

She was moving in circles and spinning. Her wrist was carefully held by a leather glove. Lights and colors whirled around in her vision. Her face was sore from all the smiling.

Yet, as they danced, she thought she saw something near her husband's covered head. It moved so quickly that her brain barely even acknowledged it. She was able to see Erdgar's head jerk, though, as if he felt an insect. She tried to tell herself that nothing was wrong, but a few moments later, as Danetta tried to spin, she saw it again.

Danetta didn't want to believe it, but she was fairly certain that a man's arm had been reaching towards her husband.

Erdgar's head jerked again.

Something was wrong.

The fabric was ... loose ... shifting about his head, falling.

It happened again. A man's arm flicked at Erdgar's head, and Danetta glimpsed the owner of the arm. It was Duke Kristof Bransted. She saw the hawk embroidered onto his bright coat. She saw his long hair floating about him as he danced. She saw a pair of sharp scissors, open and obedient, in his fingers.

The dance ended, and Danetta's fingers went to her lips, for her husband was clutching his face. His fabric mask was coming apart.

Fabric was opening at the side of his head, and she saw what looked like flesh that had melted and then cooled into something streaky and uneven.

Danetta tugged on his arm. "Come!" she said.

As if wounded, Erdgar whined and pressed his fabric closer, even as it relaxed around his shoulders. Danetta wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were focusing on the ballroom, trying to locate an exit. She pulled her husband to a small, shaded porch outside. It was meant for the enjoyment of the weather. There were a few guests there, but Danetta used her best, most powerful duchess voice to bid them to leave.

"Please! Please leave us!"

"Is something wrong?" one of the guests asked.

Danetta squared her shoulders. "My husband is ill! Please give us some privacy. I beg you!" She didn't actually know if he was ill, injured, or anything else.

A few unconcerned shrugs, and the guests left the couple, walking back into the ballroom.

Danetta settled her husband on an outdoor chair beside a lamp. She bent over him, placing concerned fingers all over his head, brushing aside the cloth.

Erdgar was so desperately trying to cover himself, whining, wheezing, keening like a miserable animal with difficulty breathing.

She hoped that her voice was soothing. "Erdgar, my sweet, my love, are you bleeding?" Her finger felt ... more than fabric. They felt ... flesh, and she couldn't stop herself. She studied his face under the firelight.

He didn't even have any hair. It seemed that he couldn't grow any. The follicles must have been destroyed. His entire head had a uneven surface of disturbed flesh. She felt his ears. While she couldn't judge their interiors, the exteriors were shrunken, jagged, and wretched.

"Oh, my poor Darling."

"Danetta?" His gloves shot up to her fingers, but her voice had him hesitating.

"My poor, sweet, wonderful husband! You've suffered so much!" Her head lowered. Her lips surveyed his skin. She couldn't find anything smooth, but there was warmth. "Erdgar, I don't see any wounds on your head. What of your neck?"

Her fingers slipped away from his grasp and slid under the bundled cloth. There was more mottled skin there. She couldn't find any blood, though.

"Erdgar," she cooed, affectionately stroking him, "are you in pain? Speak to me."