Devastated

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You seem to know all. You tell me.”

Vale stepped back to better observe her. Was she lying or possibly telling the truth? If the latter, he had greatly misjudged the country girl he had married. She was staring at him, and he stepped once more into the shadows.

“In the Cavern, you will always direct your gaze in front of you,” he explained. “You are not to meet my gaze or look upon me unless I direct you to. You shall always address me as your ‘lord’ or ‘master.’ Failure to do so has consequences.”

Why was he telling her this? Vale wondered to himself. Best to get her on her way. But her response stunned him: she laughed.

“And what have you done to merit such a title?” she asked.

Insolent chit. Vale could hardly believe he was having this conversation. “You...are clearly a novice or you would not have the audacity to question me. I have no patience for greenhorns.”

“Then why did you choose me—my lord and master?”

He would have preferred she not have added those last words, spoken with such mockery. Never had Vale encountered such impudence in the Cavern. He was almost tempted to punish her.

“Because others would not be so kind as to advise you of the prudent course, which is to return from whence you came.”

“Kind?” Harrietta echoed. “And were you kind to that young woman you hung from the ceiling?”

A flush spread through Vale. So she had seen him with the beauty. How much had she seen? But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if she knew who he was. Not even Charlotte knew.“She was being punished,” Vale explained. “And perhaps you noticed that she was not exactly complaining.”

Harrietta seemed to consider the matter, but returned with, “And who gave you the authority to punish her?”

“She did. The source of authority always comes from the submissive. All that I do is what she desires me to do.”

“She desired for you

to strike her with your riding crop?”

“Yes. With an experienced master, even acts that she fears, resents, and dislikes are ultimately ones she wants to happen.”

“What was she being punished for?”

“Spending without permission.”

At last he was able to silence her. Her brows were knit in thought.

“An experienced submissive would know to do what she was told,” Vale continued, “and would not forget to address her master as ‘my lord,’ as you have done—repeatedly.”

Her voice wavered every slightly as she asked, “And what will you do with me—my lord?”

This time the words were spoken with more respect.

“Send you home,” Vale answered.

She seemed disappointed.

“Madame Botreaux’s is not a place for the faint of heart,” Vale told her with the tenderness of a parent explaining what was best for a child. “It is understandable to be curious, but in here a person needs to be committed and possessed of a certain level of ... ability.”

“What kind of ability?”

“That you need ask shows your lack of understanding. Return home, ma petite.”

He began to walk away.

“Where can I obtain the requisite ability?” she asked.

Damn it, Vale swore. Would she not give up? He had no idea how to answer that question. Many years ago, he had taken the time to work with new submissives, but he no longer had any interest.