A Pet's Rebellion Ch. 03

Laileen waited and waited, her senses tightly hanging on the edge of agony.

Certainly, he would demand intercourse from her. She was very aware of what most men wanted.

The hungry, aggressive looks he gave her led her to believe he wanted her. His brown eyes would slide over her body without any restraint, making her feel as though lines of heat had been raked over her flesh.

After the breakfast, as they walked together in his private gardens, hailing the neat rows of flowers, fruits, and vegetables, the duke had practically forced her hand into his elbow. Laileen felt like she was being dragged around, but she politely smiled at him. Whenever he told a joke, Laileen forced out a laugh. Whenever he handed her a flower, Laileen tested the fragrance with a courteous nose. When he complimented her appearance, she thanked him, but then she claimed that he must be trying to please her, because such intense flattery could only be false.

When the gardens seemed to lose their charm, Duke Bransted took her to the stable to admire the horses. They were mostly sweet creatures. Laileen petted the face and nose of a beautiful white mare named Rosemary. Rosemary's breath tickled her hand as she learned Laileen's scent.

"What a treat of a creature you are," Laileen cooed, unable to contain herself.

The large, only slightly rough hand of the duke came over hers, putting his heat onto her. Laileen thought he might scold her, but Duke Bransted only moved her hand for her, up and down. "She prefers this sort of touch. Don't grab at her nose."

"Oh. Thank you for telling me, Your Grace."

When Laileen felt that she should stop caressing the friendly mare, she tried to tug her hand away, but Duke Bransted's fingers tightened around hers. She turned her head aside, focusing on a rather smelly pile of something that had clearly come from a horse, more willing to look at that than any part of Duke Bransted.

She heard his breath rush out. Then she felt his hand slip away.

Then it was time for lunch. Salted ham, thick bread, and fried onion rings were served to them. Laileen loved the crunchy breading around the onions and the bittersweet softness underneath. She practically inhaled the ham. She dipped the bread into the juices that leaked out of the meat. Her body felt strangely lighter as she ate. She knew that feeling would change when she was done, but her joy was simply too much to ignore. Even though her life had become something surreal and foreign, there were still moments of delight.

After lunch was done, Duke Bransted took her to his library, and he pointed out all of his favorite books. Laileen didn't hate books, but she didn't think that his tastes were particularly engrossing. Still, she remained calm and polite, letting him think that he was giving her a fascinating tour of his book collection. When they left the room, he squeezed her hand as if she was a very close friend.

Then Duke Bransted led her around the hallways of the castle, pointing out several rooms and mentioning any interesting events that had taken place in the past. A bubbling, happy pride was in his voice as he told each story or pointed out a particularly luxurious piece of furniture. Uncertainty was filling her nerves again as she listened to him. She didn't hear or feel the calm earnestness she had noticed when he mentioned the fate of Mr. Kalen. What she sensed was something like a novel that had shallow, unrealistic, characters with a predictable plot and an obvious agenda that pandered to the most foolish readers.

There was a lovely dinner soon after that, and then Laileen retired to her room.

And she waited.

Wouldn't he come soon? Wouldn't he demand that she remove her clothing and uncross her legs?

Laileen sat on the edge of the bed for a while, unwilling to remove her gown. Her fingers clawed into her skirt. Her ears pounded in the silence as she tried to find any hint of footsteps coming near the bedroom door.

The minutes scraped against her heart slowly, uncaring of her mental state.

He didn't come.

So strange.

***

Duke Bransted explained to her that he wanted to wait for her bruises to heal until he took her to Henrisk. "And then," he had said with a wicked smile, "You'll have all the fun in the world."

She still waited.

One day, he took her to Osgarth. He held her hand close, parading her about as if she was the best thing since fire. He took her to various shops, and he would tell her to pick out anything she wanted. She never did so willingly. She'd only stare at some random thing, and when the duke noticed her possible interest, he would slide his fingers over some part of her, her nape, or cheek, or arm, or something else, and he'd whisper in her ear that he'd buy it for her. Laileen would shake her head, but the lord of the province could not be swayed.

Thanks to his stubborn nature, a courier was burdened with delivering many packages to Castle Bransted. There were two pretty vases, a few cosmetics and combs, a few hand fans, some hair ribbons and hairnets, a small clock with little sculptures of musicians framing the clock's face, an empty jewelry box that should have been called a piece of jewelry because of all the precious stones encrusted onto it, a very expensive sewing kit with samples for cross-stitching, and even a few modest pieces of literal jewelry.

The jewelry was possibly the most embarrassing things for the duke to purchase. He had made a bit of a scene, telling Laileen to try on every piece possible, loudly announcing to every person in the general area that he, the great lord of the province, was purchasing a few necklaces, earrings, rings, and brooches for his new friend. The uncertain stares of the other people had Laileen blushing. It was a good thing that the jewelry consisted of fairly simple pieces, and could be acquired immediately. The most ornate pieces would have to be commissioned beforehand, and Laileen had a feeling that the duke wasn't in a patient mood.

The last place they stopped at was a dress shop that Laileen was not familiar with. "We have enough time before your face turns prettier," Duke Bransted told her, patting her arm. "I think we should order two pretty little gowns."

Laileen couldn't remember the exact time she had last been a customer at a dress shop. She had forgotten what it was like, but she was fairly certain that this particular experience was not normal. The duke actually fondled parts of her body, explaining to the bewildered seamstresses what he thought would look the most beautiful against her flesh. Laileen didn't even give her input. All the decisions were made by the duke.

When they were finished, they returned to the castle and had a pleasant meal that had Laileen smiling again, even though she didn't really want to smile. She tried to eat quickly, and when she was finished, she asked to be excused.

Duke Bransted's fingers seemed to crack as he made a negative gesture. "Could you please wait?"

Laileen nodded, but she pulled the length of her black hair over her shoulder and fiddled with it, even though it was a bit rude to do so at the table. She even braided, loosened, and braided it again and again.

Soon, the duke finished his meal, and then he rose. The fabric of his coat stretched over his shoulders, and his eyes were acute. His fingers flicked upwards at her, and he said, "Why don't you take me to your bedroom for a few moments? I want you to model your new little treasures for me."

Didn't she already do that at the jewelry store?

Was he bored?

Laileen didn't think she could refuse him without earning his anger.

She gave a biddable nod and left her seat, lacing her fingers and holding them near her abdomen. They left the dining hall and silently walked the fairly long distance to her bedroom. Laileen didn't want to chat on the way, and the duke seemed content to let her have her thoughts.

When they were inside the room, she watched the duke close the door, and when he locked it, she ground her teeth together. Laileen stood roughly in the center of the room as she watched Duke Bransted walk over to a plain, yet functional vanity area, where a few packages were placed. He opened one up and picked a simple little necklace of white pearls.

His tongue swept across his lips, and he gave her a hot, conniving look. Laileen knew not to trust it.

"Jewelry is much prettier on a nude woman."

That statement, that heavy, choking statement, pressed down on Laileen. Her eyes widened. Her stomach seemed to wring itself, dripping out fiery liquid in the process. Pain came to her knuckles as her quivering hands pressed into each other. Her nose tingled and she had to sniff her emotions up.

It was time. She knew that resisting wasn't a wise idea.

Laileen lowered her head. Her trembling little fingers slowly rose, moving to the stomacher of her gray dress. Her fingertips picked at the small pins keeping the jacket-like portion of her bodice attached to the stomacher. Her boots tapped the floor slowly as she backed up, making her way to a cushioned ottoman.

Duke Bransted didn't give any more words. She wasn't looking at his face, but she knew he was staring at her.

The pins were dropped onto the ottoman. She tugged the stomacher up and away, putting the triangle of fabric on top of the pile of pins. Not a single word came from her as she reluctantly shucked away the rest of the bodice. Her eyes focused on her fingers untying the waistband of her skirt, which soon joined the stomacher and jacket on the ottoman.

Alright.

One line had officially been crossed.

She was in her undergarments.

Laileen didn't want to see Duke Bransted's face. She knew she would cringe at the desire in his eyes. She might even faint.

She put her hands behind herself so she could untie the laces of her cream colored stays. She felt her muscles expand a little as they were freed of the garment. Her breasts lowered from the loss of support. To the ottoman the stays went.

Her foot went to the edge of that ottoman, and she unbuttoned and removed her boots. Then she untied the ribbon keeping her stocking up. She pulled it down. The same treatment was applied to her other leg. Soon, her bare feet were against a slightly cool stone floor.

The bum-roll was next. It was a fashionably wide object that supported a skirt nicely. There were some recent rumors, though, of foreign devices, usually made of wood or metal and covered with petticoats, that seemed to support an oval shape instead of a smaller, circle-like shape, with the flatter parts of the ovals on the front and back of the wearer. A few foreign dolls had been placed in dress shops showing off the interesting concept.

The chemise was all that was left. It was the only barrier she had. The duke had seen her in nothing but a chemise once, but that had been an extenuating situation. The context here was indecent.

Not much could be done, though. Laileen thought that if she said no, after all the help he had given her, after all the gifts he practically forced upon her, he might ruin what was left of her life. He had that sort of influence in this province.

The chemise had to go.

With a gloomy breath Laileen pulled it up over her head. She put it aside.

And she still couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"Well then, aren't you a good little pet?"

She winced at his voice.

"Come here, then. Such charming flesh should only hold finery. Wouldn't you agree?"

She watched her toenails as her feet moved forward. When she was able to see the gold buckles on Duke Bransted's shoes, she halted. She felt his hot breath on the top of her head, disturbing her scalp and hair. Some of the cold pearls slid against her collarbone, then her throat. She heard a tiny latch click behind her.

His body heat was almost oppressive, and he wasn't even touching her.

The rest of the pearls fell down against her flesh, making a barely audible thump.

"Don't be a dour thing, now. Look up at me."

Laileen sighed, and she tilted her head up.

And his mouth was on hers. Green cologne, silks and cottons, all these scents were seeping into her brain, along with the taste of him, slightly altered by rich foods. Lailen didn't move, didn't lean into him, or away from him. She barely even blinked. His eyes were closed, his face was flushed. She felt his light moaning.

Then he simply ... pulled away from her, his lips making a wet little noise as they left hers. His brown eyes opened, and they seemed to spark down at her. "You're so pretty, Laileen, so pretty. It's a shame that I have to wait to parade you around Henrisk. That rotten man certainly left his marks." Something sharp and cold was in his teeth as he smiled. "You left your marks too, though. You should be proud."

Laileen didn't want to react to him.

But ... when his fingertips traced lines up the sides of her torso, she had to react. Her arms flinched. Her fingers curled. A harsh yip shot out of her mouth.

The rough heat of his arms was around her. His clothing chafed against her breasts, crushing them. His fingernails scraped up and down her bare body. Laileen tried to keep her hands lowered, not wanting to reciprocate any more than necessary.

"Hmmm, you're full of sweetness, Laileen. Won't you come sit down with me?" He took her delicate little wrist, and then he pulled her towards the bed. He nudged her down in a sitting position, and then he took a spot beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders as if she actually was a beloved friend. Yet, his free hand ran up and down her bare thigh, and his lips went to her ear so he could whisper odd little things to her.

Truly odd things.

"Such a pretty doll. I'll have to dress you properly when we're in Henrisk. I'll be certain to put all the glittering baubles on you, and all the silky things. Do you suppose you should have more green things?"

Laileen had been expecting something about her genitals, not a speculation of what she could wear to look charming.

Duke Bransted's arm slithered away. The mattress groaned as he stood up. Laileen watched his long hair bounce with his gait as he returned to the packages of jewelry. There were chinking and clattering noises as his fingers combed through the contents. Then he pulled out a pair of earrings. Each earring had a half a round pearl with three tear drop shaped pearls dangling in a triangular cluster. He walked back to her and sat back down, jostling the mattress again.

"A pretty little doll should have pretty little jewels on her ears." Then Laileen shivered as Duke Bransted pulled her black hair behind her ears. Then he put the earrings' wires through her old piercings in her earlobes. The weight of the earrings wasn't exactly horrible, but it wasn't something she was accustomed to either.

"What sort of pretty things would you like to have?" He slapped his hands into his thighs as he bent over a little and smiled.

Laileen shrugged and pointed her eyes at his cravat. It was a pretty, lacy thing. "I'm not certain, Your Grace."

"Something with rubies, then? Or even opals, the white ones?"

She shrugged again.

And he kissed her cheek.

"I'll let you be for now, but I'm very pleased to see how lovely you are with your jewelry." Casually, so casually, he waved his fingers at her, as if he was waving at a small child. Then he stood up and saw himself out of the room.

Laileen had never before been so confused by a man.

***

The gowns Duke Bransted ordered came in; they were both ballgowns/dinner gowns of silk. As well made as they were, Laileen had an itching, nagging desire to alter them to suit her own tastes. She was afraid to try, though.

The first gown was in a base of bright yellow with a subtle pattern of thin white leaves. There was an abundance of layered lace and purple ribbons. The second gown was ridiculously red with azure bow-knots and even more lace. Duke Bransted loved them. He cooed over them and demanded that Laileen model them for a good long while. She had to pace back and forth over and over, posing one way and then the other, all while the man applauded her as if she had accomplished something.

Sometimes, Duke Bransted would ask to see her in nothing but jewelry, as he had before. Laileen was almost becoming used to it. Still, though, he hadn't made any sexual advances. Every day, Laileen would wonder when he would do it. She knew he had to eventually. That was simply how men functioned in her mind.

Other times, the duke told someone to play an instrument, and he ordered Laileen to practice a few dances with him. "Your body will do well with regular dancing," he had said, "and my body will do well to see you dance."

Soon, though, Duke Bransted insisted that they needed to go on to Henrisk. Her face and throat had healed, and the duke had claimed she was more beautiful than ever before.

At first, Laileen wondered if she might be able to find employment in Henrisk, assuming she could get away from the duke for a day.

Then again, she imagined she was probably his whore by now.

Would it be so horrible to let this odd relationship continue?

She ate luxurious food, wore the finest clothing, and she didn't need to worry over her general safety. He didn't seem to be an evil monster, ready to rip her body apart and drink her blood. In fact, he seemed to at least care about justice.

For now, perhaps it was better to see how the situation unrolled.

When they rode into Henrisk, Laileen gazed out a window to admire the capital's busy, excited state. Osgarth was a fairly buzzing city in its own right, but Henrisk was a beehive in the Social Season, it seemed. Most people in the nation couldn't go to Henrisk at this time of the year, but those who could often did, at least for a short time. The wealthiest people often stayed from the beginning of spring to the end of summer, depending on personal preference.

Duke Bransted's townhouse was of white bricks with several windows that bore little hanging plant holders, which held purple and white flowers and overflowing leaves. Most of the rooms inside had pale wooden dadoes and varying wallpapers. Laileen was given a particularly beautiful bedroom. The wallpaper was a pale blue and white pattern of vertical stripes. The bed had four posts decorated by hanging white cloth that didn't truly function as curtains. There was a window that had a view of several other houses and the worn down stones of the roads.

And she still was used as a doll that night, her naked body a breathing display for fine jewels and lavish fabrics. Although she was kissed, although she was held at times, Laileen didn't have to let anything at all inside her body.

She was starting to wonder if the man was impotent.

***

They should have ended it long ago.

Even as Lillitu had tea with the lovely dark skinned woman, acting as if they were nothing but friends, she was reminding herself that they were more than friends, and they should have ended it.

Bram, her adequate husband, looked in on them, smiling and saying something funny to Esther, who had laughed at him. Then he left them alone.

Lillitu was of higher birth than him, and of her previous husband. So, both of them had to take her surname. Bram was a Masen now. Esther couldn't become a Masen, though, no matter how much Lillitu wanted to accept her.

As Esther's wonderful dark eyes twinkled at her, as she drew her tea into her lovely mouth, Lillitu's face warmed. She had told Esther they needed to end it several times before. She whispered it to her every time they crossed the line.

Then they would proceed to cross the line again.

They were probably going to cross the line in a few moments. Lillitu's toes clenched and wiggled in her shoes as she waited, emptying her colorful teacup with her sips.