CHAPTER TWENTY
(Matthew)
Because of the garden party later in the afternoon, the family didn’t gather for breakfast. We were served in our rooms, and I let Charlotte sleep while the staff brought in a cart and assembled our meal quietly, so as not to disturb her.
They also brought my special request, which raised some confused eyebrows when I’d asked about it late the night before. A whole ginger root and a very sharp knife.
Once the servants were gone, I sat on the edge of the bed and set to work carving the root into the necessary shape. Charlotte stirred, and for a moment, I felt guilty about the punishment I’d planned for her.
I cut two branches off the ginger and set them aside. “Good morning, princess.”
“Is that breakfast?” she asked without opening her eyes. “It smells spicy.”
“Oh, it’s spicy,” I said with a chuckle. “Breakfast is here, but this is your punishment.”
She opened her eyes, saw what I was doing, and instantly understood.
That was one of the things I loved about Charlotte. She was on my level, kink-wise. She knew what was going to happen.
“Oh no,” she whispered, more to herself than to me.
“This will be your punishment whenever you disobey me the way you did last night.” I lifted a brow, slicing a long section of peel from the root. “Unless you’d like to beg for mercy now?”
She visibly swallowed.
“Have you ever done this before?” I asked.
She shook her head and finally found her voice. “No, my dragon. But I deserve to be punished.”
“That’s right.” Two unpeeled knobs remained on either side of the main bit I’d carved. I left them. I’d lucked out; the root was the perfect shape. “Get on your stomach.”
“Right…now?” But she rolled over obediently.
I nudged her legs apart and knelt over her, a knee on either side of one of her thighs. “Two things you need to be prepared for,” I began, parting her cheeks. I gave the root a little squeeze, so that a drop of the raw ginger juice fell on her asshole. She jolted. “First, we’re not going to use lube.” I pushed the root firmly into her and she hissed in pain, her body going tense. I smirked to myself. I loved this particular form of torture, both performing it and receiving it. “Lube will create too much of a barrier.”
“What’s the second thing?” she whimpered.
I sat back and took up one of the knobs of ginger I’d discarded. “This is going to hurt worse than anything we’ve done. It’s going to hurt a lot.”
“It’s not too bad—” she began, but when I slapped her ass and she clenched up, her high-pitched shriek contradicted her. “Motherfucker!”
“You see, the burn is going to get worse the more the juice squeezes out.” I picked up the knife and sliced a bit of the smaller piece off, then worked it beneath her, pushing it between her labia so the fresh-cut side was trapped firmly against her clit. “And you might think to yourself, ‘well, I just won’t move.’ But that’s what this piece is for.”
Her breathing sped up as the stinging herb worked on her clit.
“I’m sure your ass is on fire by now. Throbbing, because your blood is going to pound into all that irritated tissue. It has the same effect on your clit. Except, when blood rushes to that… Well, you’ll want to squirm, won’t you? You’ll get so stiff and engorged and achy, all you’ll want is an orgasm. But every time you do move…”
I gave her ass another smack. She tightened up and cursed.
“See? Clenching up makes it burn more. Now, you’re going to stay like this…” I reached for my phone to set a timer. “I think five minutes is long enough to learn your lesson without your breakfast getting cold.”
“Five minutes?” she gasped in outrage.
“And next time you disobey, it will be seven. I think I’ll keep a tally. Add two minutes to your punishment every time you defy me.” I tapped the screen to start the countdown, then propped the phone on a pillow near her head. “Watch the clock, please.”
I regretted using my phone, because the sight of her lying naked across my bed, held in bondage only by her own self-control, was something I would have loved to keep a picture of.
I went to the cart where our breakfast waited and put the silver dome back over Charlotte’s plate to keep her food warm. Then, I assessed the situation. There wasn’t a great place to eat in the bedroom. My main decorating focus as a teenager had been “space to hold all my junk.”
The balcony wasn’t an option, since the garden was crawling with staff setting up for the lunchtime party. I took my plate to the coffee table and, through great force of will, sat with my back to the bed.
Did I want to watch Charlotte struggle and sweat and suffer? Absolutely. Would it make the torment worse for her if I didn’t pay attention to her predicament? Yes, it would. And that’s what I was going for.
“You got waffles?” I asked cheerfully as I sat down to my eggs Benedict. “Good choice. The kitchen makes excellent waffles. From scratch too. No mixes or anything.”
Charlotte whimpered in reply.
I poured myself some coffee and set it aside. “That’s a bit too hot. Wouldn’t want to burn myself.”
I heard the whisper of her legs writhing against the sheet, followed by a gasp of pain.
“Sorry, I’ll let you concentrate. How much time is left?”
“Three minutes and two seconds,” she ground out. “Please, I—”
“Do you feel like you need to come?” I asked, peppering my eggs.
“I feel like I’m burning alive!” she shot back.
“That’s not what I asked, and that’s not how the princess speaks to her dragon.” The warning in my tone carried the threat of two extra minutes. “Try again. Do you feel like you need to come?”
“I’m starting to, my dragon.” Another pathetic whimper. “But it hurts. It hurts so bad!”
“You disobeyed me. This is the consequence.” I cut into the stack of poached egg, ham, and English muffin. “You could always beg for mercy.”
There was no way I’d make her endure something like this without the ability to opt out. If she took the punishment for the full five minutes, that was entirely up to her.
I waited for her to utter the word. She didn’t.
Pride swelled in my chest. She was so good at this.
I was so fucking lucky to have her.
“Let’s review. Why are you being punished?” I asked.
She panted audibly while she gave her answer. “Because I disobeyed my dragon.”
“And how did you disobey?” I prompted.
“I came when I wasn’t allowed to,” she began, then made a frustrated noise. “I couldn’t help it, though! You’re too good at fucking me. Every time you touch me, I want to come.”
“You want it?” I clucked my tongue. “You don’t get to have something just because you want it. That’s very greedy of you.”
“I need it,” she revised, and the words were lost to a groan of mingled pleasure and desire. “When you touch me, I need to come, my dragon.”
“I’m still not convinced that you know the difference between a want and a need.” The timer went off, and I rose to go and help her, though I took my time on my walk to the bed.
“Please! Take it out!” she begged.
“Is being impatient with me going to get you what you want?” I scolded her.
“I’m sorry, my dragon. I’m sorry!” she pleaded as I stood over her. “Please, take it out. I promise, I’ll never disobey you again.”
“I don’t believe you.” I sat beside her on the bed and tugged the ginger root free from her ass. “Especially since you don’t know the difference between what you need and what you desire.” I slipped my hand beneath her. Her clit was swollen and so sensitive, I could feel her pulse against my fingers as I pulled the ginger slice away. “You wanted an orgasm so much, you took one. When they belong to me.”
“I know, they belong to you, my dragon. I am so sorry—”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.” I ran my fingertip over the top of her clit, then tossed the root in the trash. “Follow me to the bathroom. Do not touch yourself.”
I washed my hands at the sink, suppressing a grin as she danced on the balls of her feet. Without any haste, I dried my hands and took a washcloth from the cabinet and wet it under the cold tap. “Clean yourself up. Leave the door open, so I know you’re not in here relieving your want. Because you’re not going to orgasm today.”
“But—” she began, her eyes opening wide as she silenced herself.
“The good thing about the ginger is, after the juice is wiped away, the effect lingers. I’m sure you’ll be painfully sensitive all day. Desperate to come. And you’re not allowed to until eight-thirty tomorrow morning.” It was going to be as much torture for me as it would be for her. I wanted to drop to my knees and suck that aching clit into my mouth, to make her scream and writhe and come so hard, over and over, until she begged me to stop. And even then, I was hungry enough that I would keep going.
Hunger. Breakfast. Her food is getting cold.
I took her against my body for a brief embrace and handed her the washcloth. “There. Hurry, while the food is still hot.”
I left the bathroom, laughing at her huge sigh of relief behind me.
* * * *
Charlotte was a vision, easily outshining the beauty of the landscaping and fountains in the garden. No topiary could compete with her figure in her long, airy dress, printed all over with vibrant green leaves and pale flowers. A slender strap held the dress up by looping around her neck and tying at her nape. It took all my self-control to not whisk her off into the hedge maze and give that bow a tug.
Self-control and a healthy fear of getting my teeth rearranged by her brother. Scott had been at the party for half an hour now, and he’d made no move to speak to either of us.
It didn’t bother me as much as it seemed to bother Charlotte.
“What’s he going to do, avoid us for the rest of our lives?” She hastily corrected, “Our relationship?”
As far as I was concerned, those two things were the same. But she would not want to hear that. “Give him space. He’s in arguably the tougher position, here.”
“How so?” she grumbled. There was no doubt that her punishment was greatly influencing her mood. She’d been downright petulant ever since I’d made my “no orgasm” decree.
I loved it.
“Well,” I began, considering my words carefully. “In the first place, he’s in my home territory. I have a tactical advantage. If I don’t want to speak to him, I can ask him to leave, or I can disappear off somewhere. He doesn’t have the luxury of doing that. And that home court advantage extends to you, because you’re my guest here. Second, you and I are facing an awkward situation together. He’s doing it alone.”
Her expression softened somewhat. “I guess you have me on a technicality. But he’s my brother. I don’t extend as much grace to him as you do. Those are the rules of siblinghood.”
“Oh, I believe you,” I said, spotting the bane of my existence across the courtyard. My sister had schmoozed her way down from the terrace, past the fountain, and was now dangerously close. I hoped she wouldn’t bother to speak to us, but she spotted Charlotte, and her eyes narrowed.
“Great, she’s making a beeline for us,” I muttered, taking a sip from my gin and tonic.
“A beeline made by a very angry bee.” Charlotte supplied, hiding her mouth behind her hand.
“A waspline.”
“With capital letters,” she giggled. “A WASPline. Get it?”
“I do,” I confirmed, putting my free hand on her waist as Catherine approached with a fake smile.
“Enjoying the party, Charlotte?” Catherine asked.
Charlotte nodded. “It’s lovely. Although, there was a wasp bothering us a moment ago.”
I choked on my drink slightly.
Catherine didn’t understand the joke. Thank god. She narrowed her eyes and looked up at the top of the topiary behind us. “That won’t do. Mother had pest control out here on Thursday. Do you think there’s a nest?”
“Oh, I think there’s a full-on infestation here somewhere,” Charlotte answered with a totally straight face.
“Well, that aside,” Catherine went on, “you look very pretty.”
“Thanks,” Charlotte answered, smoothing down the front of her skirt. She didn’t know, of course, that “pretty” from my sister was a withering insult. It meant “simple.” Girlish. Unsophisticated.
If Charlotte was going to survive in my world, she would have to become bilingual. She would have to learn to speak rich asshole.”
“Florals to a garden party,” Catherine continued. “Most people would think that was too obvious a choice.”
Judging from Charlotte’s subtle shift in expression, she was picking up some of the dialect.
“I love your shoes,” she said, pointing to the lavender pumps my sister wore. “A lot of women would be worried about their ankles looking stocky in such a thick heel, but you’re pulling it off. Style icon. Like Daisy Duck.”
I could practically hear my sister’s teeth grinding.
With theatrical overemphasis, I scanned the courtyard and directed my gaze toward the terrace. “I haven’t seen Jackson. Did his flight get in safely?”
It was a low blow, and one I regretted the moment I saw the hurt flash across my sister’s face. She pursed her lips slightly. “No. He was called back to the city. An important deal fell through, and he needs to patch up the shoddy work of others. He’ll be here for the birthday party tonight.”
“Shame. I was looking forward to hearing about his work trip to… Was it Thailand?” I blinked innocently at her.
With a venomous “Enjoy the party,” Catherine turned and stalked away from us.
“Wait, you mean…” Charlotte said, a scandalized expression dawning over her face.
“Far be it from me to harshly judge sex tourism, but at least my resorts aren’t exploiting minors.” It wasn’t exactly the kind of topic to share at one’s mother’s birthday luncheon, so I changed the subject. “Did you know that the estate has a hedge maze?”
Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” I took her hand and led her down the short steps to the next level of the terraced gardens. We made a right at the enormous copy of Versailles’ Bassin d’Apollon and veered into a small copse of immaculately pruned shrubs. Just ahead was the entrance to the maze.
“It’s a little creepy, isn’t it?” Charlotte whispered. “I’ve never been in a real maze before.”
“Oh, I’ll protect you,” I promised. “The Minotaur moved out years ago, and I still have the string threaded through so we can find our way.”
“Ha ha.” she said with a roll of her eyes. Sucking down the rest of her drink through its straw, she set the glass neatly on the ground beside one of the hedge walls. “Don’t give me hints. Let me see if I can find my way through.”
“No hints,” I promised. “Unless we’re hopelessly lost and we’re going to miss the rest of the party.”
“I wouldn’t mind missing the rest of the party,” she said, and waited for me to finish my drink and abandon my glass before heading inside.
“I’ve heard you can solve any maze by going left,” she said confidently, striding off in the wrong direction.
“I’ve heard that too.” I let her pull me along as we navigated the first two turns, then backtracked out of the dead end.
“I’m just getting warmed up,” she promised.
“I have every confidence in you.” I knew the maze like I knew Charlotte’s fucking epic body, so I knew exactly where we were headed. And it was the perfect place to fool around.
“Ooh, it’s curvy,” she exclaimed as the straight corridor we were in took a sharp left and redirected us in the direction we’d come from.
“Is it a hint to tell you what this looks like from the top?” I asked, following her through the spiral that made up one leaf of a lucky clover.
“Yes, so don’t.” She marched determinedly onward, to the center of the clover. Here, there was a small, diamond-shaped courtyard with four benches and a small pedestal fountain. “Your family is into the water features.”
“My great-grandfather wanted this place to look like Versailles. Not sure how this maze fits into it, but we don’t have a Petit Trianon either.” I stopped at one of the benches. “I need to take a rest.”
“Oh, right. Leg. I forgot.” She winced. “Sorry, does it bother you when I bring that up?”
“Not as much as it bothers me to have a ruined leg.” I stifled a groan as I sank onto the hard stone. “At least you’re willing to acknowledge it. Everyone else kind of…”
“Dances around it?” Her face scrunched up. “That wasn’t meant to be a pun.”
“I’m sure I can still dance.” I hadn’t tried, but I was pretty sure I could. “And I didn’t get a chance to dance with you at Scott’s wedding. Tonight, you’re going to be all mine.”
“Wait, there’s dancing?” She blanched.
“After dinner.” Maybe the timing wasn’t her concern. “Don’t freak out. Nobody is going to ask you to enter a tango competition.”
“This is all so new. And weird.” She sat beside me, her gaze fixed on the fountain. “Am I embarrassing you? If I’m doing anything to embarrass you, you have to tell me. It’s the law.”
“I’m not sure it is, but no, you haven’t done anything to embarrass me. Why are you even worried about that, anyway?”
“Maybe because I’m kind of what’s commonly called a ‘fish out of water’ here.” She made air quotes around the phrase. “For example, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to wear florals to a garden party.”
“I’ve never heard that rule before.”
“I’m not sure it applies to you,” she said wryly.
“My sister probably made it up.” All of our stupid rules were made up. But I doubted that would help Charlotte. I’d grown up in “society,” so I was allowed to reject the conformity. Charlotte wanted to make a good impression, so she had to walk a fine line.
I put my arm around her shoulders. “I know this is a weird, totally nonsensical way of living. And I know it’s hard on outsiders. Nobody wants to let anyone in. So, I appreciate that you’re willing to try. For me.”
“I’m certainly not doing it for me,” she said, nudging the pea gravel at our feet with the tip of her strappy sandal.
“You get some benefits,” I reminded her.
“The free designer clothes?” She asked.
“I was talking about the incredible sex.”
“I’m not getting that benefit today,” she grumbled.
“That’s not true.” I put my hand on her knee and inched her skirt up enough for her to get the point.
“You said—”
“I said you weren’t allowed to come,” I reminded her. “I never said we weren’t going to have sex.”