Sudden Pleasures

Chapter 1

Screwed! She was royally, totally, and completely screwed. And all because that charming old man who had been her grandfather came from a generation that still believed in happily ever after. Ashley Cordelia Kimbrough, the richest woman in Egret Pointe, could have told you that there was absolutely no such thing as happily ever after.

"You can't find any way around his will?" she asked her attorneys for what was probably the hundredth time. "Nothing?"

Rick Johnson and Joe Pietro d'Angelo shook their heads at her.

"You've still got eighteen months," Rick said. "A lot can happen in eighteen months, Ash. There's still plenty of time."

"Yeah," Joe chimed in. "And it would have been a lot worse if we hadn't found out about Derek. If you'd married him, it would have cost you a lot of money, Ash. A lot of money. I would have thought a guy like that would have been smarter, but maybe it's just been luck that kept him one step ahead of the law. But once he started howling about the prenup, bells started going off around here."

Ashley sighed. "Thank God you two checked him out, but everyone seemed to think he was the perfect match for me. But then, what wasn't to like? He was tall, blond, athletic, well-spoken. He was a great dresser, and seemed to be well-fixed himself. Who knew that Derek Douglas Carruthers was wanted in Georgia and South Carolina for fraud? And that his real name was Elmer Oswald Leonard?"

"Let's not forget he is also wanted in Thailand, Italy, and Turkey," Joe reminded her dryly. "This guy was a con man extraordinaire, Ash. He's left a long trail of broken hearts and empty bank accounts in his wake."

"So now I'm back to square one," Ashley said. "You know, guys, I'm starting to be known around Egret Pointe as the Bad-luck Bride. It's more than embarrassing."

"Oh, come on, Ash," Rick said. "These things happen. Weddings get called off at the last minute all the time. No big deal."

"This is the third wedding I've planned," Ashley said, "that's been called off at the last minute. The first one was the year after grandfather died. I was twenty-four, and really should have known better, but I didn't, did I?"

"None of us knew that Carson would run off with the best man two days before the wedding," Joe said. "Usually it's the maid of honor the groom runs off with, isn't it?" He struggled to hold back the smile that was threatening to burst forth. In retrospect it really had been a comical situation.

Ashley laughed. "I thought it was so romantic that he was saving himself for our wedding night," she said. "Carson was really the nicest of them all, you know. I see him every now and again in the city. He finds these wonderful new young designers for me all the time. It's like he's trying to make it up to me. He's still with Peter, and they're very happy. They're even talking about adopting a baby."

"You've got a good heart, Ash," Joe remarked.

"Yeah, sure, but I've also got lousy taste in men. May I remind you of my second attempt at marriage? Chandler Wayne. Former quarterback for a pro team, and all man, all the time. I made damned certain he wasn't another Carson, and he wasn't. Not too inventive in the sack, but very enthusiastic," Ashley said, enjoying the fact that her two attorneys were embarrassed by her frankness, especially as both of them remembered that it had made the tabloids when Chandler had died during a bout of autoerotic sex while in Vegas with his six groomsmen for a weeklong bachelor party.

Both lawyers had been married for a long time. Both had children who were grown and out of the house, or still in college. Both were obviously content, although Ashley knew that their wives were frequent visitors to the Channel. And very few women who visited the Channel did so for sightseeing purposes only. Most women visiting the Channel did so to satisfy their sexual fantasies. Ashley certainly did. Without it she would have gone crazy after all the Sturm und Drang in her life.

Her parents had been drowned in a boating accident when she was fourteen. She and her brother made their home after that with Grandfather Kimbrough at Kimbrough Hall. Their maternal grandparents were deceased, and there were no other relatives. Her brother had graduated from West Point, and as a second lieutenant been killed in Desert Storm at the age of twenty-three. Ashley was in her freshman year of college that year. She hadn't wanted to go to college because she had an idea to open a specialty shop in Egret Pointe. But Edward Kimbrough had insisted, promising to back her venture when she graduated.

With that incentive dangling before her like a golden carrot, Ashley managed to graduate in three years' time with a degree in business. It had meant no dating, no vacations, no life. But she had done it, and true to his word her grandfather had financed the elegant lingerie shop that Ashley named Lacy Nothings. He hadn't thought much of the idea, he told her candidly, but Ashley knew her market. Egret Pointe was no longer a dull small town. When grandfather had built Ansley at Egret Pointe, his first upscale development, everything had changed. The village, while maintaining its smalltown charm, had become more sophisticated.

Lacy Nothings had been a big hit, and a welcome addition to local shopping. And as its reputation spread, women from nearby towns came to the Egret Pointe store to purchase the alluring undergarments and night garments that the shop sold. Many were original designs. Many were handmade. And everything was of the absolute best quality. And then she had done her first catalog, and the orders began pouring in from all over the United States and Canada.

"Who would have thunk women would pay so much money for so little?" her grandfather had said, surprised, but actually pleased that Ashley had spotted both a trend and a need, and locked onto it. He hadn't always agreed with her, for Edward Kimbrough was a conservative man, but he had been Ashley's biggest booster.

And now Ashley was in the process of opening two new stores: one in an upmarket neighborhood in the city, and another in a similarly good location in a wealthy suburb. But everything was being threatened by this stupid clause in her grandfather's will: Ashley Cordelia Kimbrough had to marry by the time she was thirty-five or she would lose everything. Her home. The millions of dollars her grandfather had left her. And her investments, including Lacy Nothings, because her stores were originally a part of Edward Livingston Kimbrough's investments, and the monies she was using to open the new stores were part of the estate. They were hers to use only until she was thirty-five. If at that point she didn't have a husband, then Ashley would lose it all to SSEXL, the Society Seeking Extraterrestrial Life. Not that her grandfather had believed in life on other planets. No. He had done it to please his stupid girlfriend, who couldn't be satisfied that she would get a million on Edward's death. So he had added the clause to please Lila. He had certainly never expected that his granddaughter would strike out three times trying to get a man to the altar. A gay fiancé; a sex-addicted fiancé, and a con man.

"My luck with men just sucks," Ashley said gloomily. "What the hell am I going to do, guys, if we can't break the will? Can we prove that Lila took advantage of him? Used her wiles to cajole him into the clause so her cuckoo organization would profit?"

"Not a chance," Rick replied. "Edward was not senile or delusional at all. He was in full charge of himself when he added that clause, Ash. I'm sorry. There is no way around this. You'll have to get married in the next eighteen months, or you'll lose it all."

Tiffany Pietro d'Angelo, Joe's wife, had been sitting in on the meeting. She had become his legal assistant a few years ago, when their children had left for college. "The trouble with lawyers," Tiffany said softly, "is that you don't think outside the box."

"You have a suggestion?" Ashley asked hopefully.

Tiffany nodded. "What about an old-fashioned arranged marriage?"

"An arranged marriage? What's that?" Ashley wanted to know.

"You're crazy," Joe said to his wife.

"No, I'm not," Tiffany replied. "What, you think in the twenty-first century things like arranged marriages no longer exist? Well, they do. And that would seem to be Ashley's only way out. Are you seriously proposing she turn up her toes and let SSEXL have everything? Let Lila Peabody, the old bitch, get it all? No way!"

"Somebody please tell me exactly what an arranged marriage is?" Ashley said.

"It's an old-fashioned way of matching people up by religion, economic background, ethnic similarities, that kind of thing," Joe said.

"It's a legitimate possibility," Rick said thoughtfully, "but where are we going to find a match for Ashley, Tiff?"

"Yeah, Tiff!" Joe echoed sarcastically.

Tiffany Pietro d'Angelo was a slender, petite woman with champagne blond hair. No one had realized how very smart she was until she had gone into her husband's office ostensibly to help out after their last child had gone to college. But Tiffany had been listening to Joe for over thirty years, and once in the office she had learned quickly. Now she turned her blue eyes to look at the two partners. "Your cousin, Joe. He has a client with the same problem as Ashley." Now she focused on Ashley. "Joe's cousin Raymond is a lawyer in the city. Some big fancy firm with three or four WASPy names. We had dinner with him and his wife, Rose, last week. He's got a client whose father put a similar clause in his will. The guy has got to marry soon or he loses everything." She looked back at her husband. "Remember now, stupido?"

Joe clapped his hand to his head. "Tiff, baby! You're right! I should call him immediately and find out exactly what his client's problem is. Then we go from there."

"You're suggesting that you arrange a marriage for me with a total stranger?" Ashley asked. "No. I don't think so."

"Listen, Ashley," Tiffany said quietly, "no one is suggesting we set a date and you two meet for the first time at the altar. This isn't India. Let Joe check it out with his cousin. If there is a possibility that you two might be a match, we'll arrange a meeting in our offices here. If you and the guy hit it off, then we can run with it from there. Hey, it takes all the fuss and muss out of looking for a guy. We'll have his background, because he's Ray's client. And he has to have a few bucks or his father wouldn't have put in such a clause trying to protect him and the family money. It could be an ideal setup for you."

"Then if he's rich and relatively acceptable, why hasn't he found his own wife?" Ashley wanted to know. "Sounds very fishy to me. What if the guy is weird or a perv?"

"Ray will know," Tiffany said soothingly.

Ashley sat silent for several long moments while they waited for her to say something. Finally she spoke. "Okay, check it out, Joe. And when you have all the facts-and I mean all of them-come back to me with them. I'll make my decision then." She stood up. "I've got to get back to the shop. I have a special shipment coming in today for Emily Devlin. Pure silk, lace made by nuns in a convent in Madeira, the whole thing hand-sewn. Her husband ordered it for her as a surprise for after the baby is born."

"That man is a treasure," Tiffany remarked. Then she got up too. "I'll see you out," she said, "and Joe, get on the phone now with Ray."

The two women walked arm in arm into the office's reception area.

"An arranged marriage sounds like it might be a good idea, Tiff," Ashley said. "Thanks for being so on-the-ball and thinking of it."

"Don't think badly of the boys for not coming up with a solution," Tiffany answered her. "This is a thorny problem you've got, sweetie. They're guys. They think practical." Then she grinned. "And this is definitely a night for the Channel, huh?"

"I can never thank you enough for introducing me to it," Ashley said, returning the grin. "After the debacle with Carson I really needed a serious diversion. Everyone is always telling me how calm and levelheaded I am. Well, that's because I take my means out in the Channel." She chuckled. "And someone's cute butt is going to get strapped pink and hot tonight, I can assure you."

"Glad I could help," Tiffany replied, surprised at what she had just heard. She would never have considered that Ashley was into domination, but then, she had learned long ago never to judge a book by its cover. "Have fun," she said as she ushered Ashley out the door of the office. "See you at the club."

Ashley waved a diffident hand as she hurried down the stairs. Outside the June afternoon was a glorious one. Watching the light traffic she walked across Main Street to her own shop. "Did the Devlin order come in?" she asked Nina, her assistant, as she entered the store.

"Yep, just while you were gone. I didn't open it. I thought you would want to do that," Nina said with a smile. "But I have to admit I'm dying to see it. It's in the back."

"Have we been busy?" Ashley wanted to know.

"Sure we have," Nina replied. "Bridal season, and they all want sexy underwear."

Ashley smiled and went into her office, where Nina had placed the small package. Carefully she tore off the paper wrapping. Then she opened the box and lifted the exquisite silk-and-lace nightgown from the tissue wrapping. It was the palest pink, with the most delicate lace Ashley had ever seen. Carson had discovered the lace while vacationing with Peter on the island of Madeira, ferreted out its source, and brought the information to her. She had paid the nuns for a year's supply of their lace, and put it with her seamstress to use on certain garments. Part of her shop's success was being able to offer unique, one-of-a-kind items. The nightgown in her hands was certainly beautiful.

"Nina, come and look," she called out, and her assistant hurried in.

"God, it's beautiful!" Nina said. "She's going to love it, but I wonder if he knows it will be Christmas before she can wear it. I mean, it isn't something you put on when you're nursing. Breast milk would really stain such delicate silk, and she'll nurse exclusively for six months, like they all do now."

"It's the thought that counts," Ashley said softly. "And he thought of it. Now, why can't I find a guy like that?"

"You want to talk about it?" Nina asked sympathetically. She was a motherly but fashionable woman in her early fifties.

"What's to talk about?" Ashley said gloomily. "Three weddings planned. Three weddings canceled. Three florists, three caterers, three bands, all paid for and canceled. Three wedding gowns and twelve attendants' dresses, all paid for and then donated to the hospital's secondhand shop. And let us not forget the hundreds of wedding gifts that have all had to be packed up and returned with a handwritten note of regret. 'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Van Buren: I'm so sorry to tell you that the wedding has had to be canceled because the groom turned out to be gay, dead, a con man. I am returning your beautiful and most thoughtful wedding gift via Federal Express. Fondly, Ashley Cordelia Kimbrough, who has sucky taste in men.' "

Nina couldn't help it: She laughed. "Oh, honey," she said. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorrier," Ashley replied. "But it really is getting to be rather comical, isn't it? I wonder if 'three strikes and you're out' applies to situations like this?"

"I think you just haven't met the right man," Nina, a widow, said cheerfully.

"I've got eighteen months," Ashley said softly, "or I really will be out. Out on the street. Damn! I will not lose everything to an organization called SSEXL, even if I have to marry a monkey in the zoo!"

"Speaking of monkeys, Lila Peabody came in today to pick up her new bras," Nina murmured. "That boob job she got looks great. And at her age, too. She said she was just seventy."

"Seventy-five," Ashley corrected. "Perky boobs, and a face like a leather satchel. She has the money. Why she didn't do the face too, I don't know. I suppose it's because her skin is so damaged from her constant tanning."

"Rumor has it she has a new beau," Nina said.

"I heard. Old Paul Hilton," Ashley replied.

"No fool like an old fool," Nina remarked.

"Do you ever think of remarrying?" Ashley asked her assistant.

"No. I don't want to break another one in, thanks. Besides, who needs a man when you have the Channel, my dear? I can't thank you enough for introducing me to it. I can have sex anytime, and any way I want it, and at four a.m. I'm back in my own bed. It's just too perfect."

Ashley laughed. "TMI," she told Nina, who just chuckled.

"Do you want me to call Mr. Devlin and tell him his order is in?" Nina asked.

"Yes, please," Ashley said.

The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Two more brides-to-be came in to purchase items for their trousseaux. One of them was a girl Ashley remembered being the little sister of a schoolmate. She almost winced when the girl glowingly told Nina that Ashley and her sister used to babysit her when they were in their teens. Then Ashley made the mistake of asking after the girl's older sister.

"Oh, Claire's been married over ten years now, and has three kids," came the reply. "Can I tell her that you said hi?"

Ashley nodded, smiling, but catching Nina's sympathetic gaze. Bloody hell! she thought. Why is it that everybody but me can find a husband? I'm not looking for anything unusual. I want a nice guy with a good sense of humor with whom I can talk and share things. Is that so hard? Obviously it was. Being rich was both a blessing and a curse.

At five p.m. on the dot she closed up Lacy Nothings for the day and bade Nina good night. Then, going around back, she got into her silver Solstice and drove home.

"Good evening, Miss Ashley," Byrnes, her butler, said as she entered the house. "Shall I tell Mrs. B. dinner at the usual time?"

"Yes, but I'll want to eat out on the porch tonight, Byrnes," Ashley told him.

"Very good, miss," the butler replied with a bow, and went off to the kitchens to speak with his wife, who was Kimbrough Hall's cook.

Ashley went up to her bedroom suite. After stripping off her clothes she walked naked into her large bathroom. Opening one side of the double glass doors to her shower, she programmed it and turned the water on before stepping into it. A dozen water jets spurted forth from the marble enclosure as she turned herself about to get thoroughly wet. Reaching for a cake of olive oil soap a friend had brought her from Italy last year, she washed herself quickly. She didn't want to be late for dinner, because Mrs. Byrnes usually did some sort of steak dish midweek, and dinner was served at six p.m. on the dot. She would want a little time for a glass of wine before she ate.

Turning off the shower after she was well rinsed, Ashley stepped from the glass-and-marble surround and reached for a towel. The towel was warm from the heating rack. Once dried, she looked at herself critically in the full-length mirror. She wasn't one of those tiny size-zero or size-two little girls. She was the average size of the American woman: size fourteen. But there wasn't an ounce of fat on her body, her legs were long, and her breasts were high and softly rounded. Everything was in proportion, she thought smugly, even if she couldn't be called dainty. That was one reason she had opened Lacy Nothings: so that every women from size two to size twenty-two could have sexy underwear and night wear.

Pulling on a pair of soft, fleecy pale gray pants and a light pink cotton tee, Ashley padded downstairs in her bare feet and headed for the screened porch that overlooked the bay. Byrnes was waiting for her with a glass of red wine. Ashley took it from him and sniffed. "North Fork viticulture," she said, and the butler nodded. She took a sip of the wine, swishing it about her mouth, breathing the fragrance. "Bedell Cellars Main Road Red," she decided, and looked to him for confirmation.

"Very good, Miss Ashley," Byrnes said with a small smile.

"Mrs. B. is cooking me a filet, isn't she?"

"Yes, miss. Shall I tell her to put it on now, or do you wish to wait?" the butler asked.

"Now, please, I'm starving!" Ashley told him. "It's been a long day, and Grandfather's will cannot be broken."

"Mr. Kimbrough was a very careful and thorough man, Miss Ashley," Byrnes observed, and then he hurried off to the kitchen.

Ashley chuckled as she sipped her wine and gazed out over the bay. Byrnes knew her late grandfather probably better than anyone. He had grown up at Kimbrough Hall, as his father had been the previous butler. And he knew all about the clause that had been added to her grandfather's will at Lila's behest. Byrnes had not liked Lila Peabody, but he would have thought it presumptuous to voice an opinion on the matter. But Ashley had heard him speaking to his wife on the subject one day, and the butler had not spoken well of her grandfather's last girlfriend, stating most bluntly that Lila was no lady. Ashley smiled to herself as she remembered the butler's disapproving tone. But, of course, he was right: Lila Peabody had not been a lady, which had amused Ashley's grandfather.

Hearing Byrnes rolling in the dinner cart, Ashley seated herself at the little table that had been set up for her. Byrnes placed to her left a small salad plate of endive dressed lightly with a raspberry vinaigrette. Next came the dinner plate, which held a very rare piece of filet mignon, three small potato puffs, and several slender stalks of asparagus with a splash of Hollandaise sauce. The butler stood in attendance while Ashley ate in silence. When she had finished he cleared the dinner and salad plates from the table, replacing them with a dish of freshly hulled local strawberries dusted with sugar, and a tiny pitcher of thick cream.

"The berries were picked this afternoon, Miss Ashley. The strawberry patch is quite bountiful this year," Byrnes said. "Mrs. B. will be making jam and freezing some whole berries for the winter."

"They're delicious, and still warm with the sun," Ashley noted.

"Are there plans for this evening, Miss Ashley?" the butler wanted to know.

"No, I'll be going up to my quarters after I've finished," Ashley told him.

"If you don't mind my mentioning it, Ghostly and Graybar could use a good run on the beach, Miss Ashley."

"I have been neglecting them, haven't I?" Ashley said. "It won't be dark for a while. I'll take them out. Thanks, Byrnes." Finished with her dinner, she stood up. "Are they in the kitchen with Mrs. B.?"

"Yes, Miss Ashley. Shall I bring them up?" the butler asked her.

"No, I'll go and fetch them myself. I want to thank Mrs. B. for such a wonderful dinner. The potato puffs were marvelous, even if I do try to stay away from those hard carbs," Ashley said with a smile. She hurried down to the kitchen, where she found her two greyhounds sprawled beneath Mrs. B.'s large wooden kitchen table. "The puffs were heaven," she told the cook. "Thanks, even if I shouldn't have them."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. B. said with a smile. She was a small, round woman with fading strawberry blond hair that she wore in a bun. She was a perfect contrast to her tall, thin husband. "You're too thin, Miss Ashley, as it is."

Ashley laughed. "Bless you!" she said. Then she whistled to the two dogs, who roused themselves and ambled over to her. Ashley took their leads from a hook on the wall where they were hung, fastened them about the dogs' collars, and led them out of the house through the kitchen gardens. Once on her private beach she released Ghostly and Graybar, and let them run as she strolled along.

The sun was getting lower and lower on the horizon when she finally decided to turn back. Whistling for the two dogs, she turned about. She wanted to get well settled before she turned on the Channel. They had done some upgrades in the last year. Now you could simply subscribe to it the way you would any other premium channel. And the remote had a terrific new feature on it: You could have two fantasies ready to go if you wanted, and Ashley did.

In both of her fantasies she was a Roman noblewoman, the lady Cordelia, but the fantasies had slightly different themes. In fantasy A the noble Cordelia possessed a Celtic sex slave named Quinn, whom she used and abused to their mutual pleasure. In fantasy B, Cordelia, visiting her properties in northern Gaul, was kidnapped by a northern barbarian named Rurik, who made her his sex slave, to be deliciously used and only sometimes abused.

Ashley debated about which fantasy she wanted tonight, but she was still feeling cranky about her visit to the offices of Johnson and Pietro d'Angelo today. She felt so damned helpless about the situation in which she was caught. She had no choice in the matter: If she didn't find a husband she would lose everything, and she didn't want to lose everything. She liked her comfortable lifestyle. She loved the mechanics of her business. And if she had to take a husband to keep it all, she damned well would.

"A," she said aloud. "Tonight I need to be completely in charge, even if it's only my fantasy." Arriving back at the house she let the dogs back into the kitchen. Their beds, when they weren't sleeping with her, were in an unused pantry. "Good night, boys," she said, patting the silky heads. The kitchen, she noted, was vacant. Everything was in its place, but it was empty. Mrs. B. had already retired to the apartment where she and Byrnes lived above the kitchen wing of the house. Back in the open foyer of the house she encountered her butler locking up.

"Will you be needing me again tonight, Miss Ashley?" he asked politely.

"No, thank you. Run along, Byrnes. I'm heading upstairs myself," Ashley said as she mounted the stairs. "Good night."

"Good night, Miss Ashley," the butler replied.

Ashley entered her bedroom suite just as the clock on the mantel of the fireplace in her bedroom was striking eight o'clock. Her bed was already turned down, something Byrnes did every night without fail, as Ashley didn't feel the need for a private maid. Stripping out of her pants and tee, she climbed naked into her bed. Picking up the remote, she pointed it at the wall above the fireplace mantel and pressed a button. Immediately the wall slid back, revealing a large flat-screen television. Ashley pushed a second button and the television came to life.

"Good evening, and welcome to the Channel, where your fantasies become your reality," a silky voice purred. "Please press button A or button B, followed by the enter button. Thank you, and enjoy your evening." The screen darkened.

Ashley pressed button A, then the enter button. She experienced a slight sensation as if her insides were being drawn out, and then she was there, in the bedchamber of her villa, standing naked before a silver mirror. "Where is Quinn?" she demanded of her slave woman. "Why is he not here? The day has been long and trying. He should be here! Find him and bring him to me immediately!"

The slave woman scurried off. Ashley viewed her naked body in the mirror. Her hair in her fantasy was long and luxurious. It fell down her back to her waistline. In reality she had short hair, styled in a gamine look. Her nipples were rouged to make them more prominent. She could hardly wait to get her hands on Quinn tonight. She needed to punish him as she was being punished.

The male sex slave came into the bedchamber. He stood six feet, five inches tall. He was totally naked, for he was not allowed to cover himself except in cold or wet weather, and only if his mistress permitted it. His body was perfection, with everything in proportion and nicely muscular. He was devoid of any hair except on his head, and it was bright red-gold. His eyes were bright blue, but before his mistress he kept them lowered unless commanded to raise them. His genitalia were huge, even at rest. They were bound in leather lacings. He knelt before her, his head down.

Ashley slowly licked her lips. "You are not ready for me," she said in a hard, deadly voice. She raised his head up with one finger of her hand, but his eyes remained unfocused, not looking at her. "Why are you not ready for me? Have you not been told you must be ready for me at all times, Quinn?"

"Yes, mistress," he replied low.

"Yet you choose to disobey," Ashley murmured. Her hand ruffled through his thick hair. "Oh, it is a bad slave, it is. You are bad, are you not, Quinn?"

"Yes, mistress," he agreed in a toneless voice.

"Then you must be punished, Quinn," Ashley said. "I will not be disobeyed and defied by a slave. Your bottom must be burnished until it glows and your cock is standing tall and ready for me. Prepare yourself at once!"

The tall slave stood and went quickly to a cupboard, then drew out several items. One was a device consisting of a bar set between two sturdy marble columns. The bar was wrapped first in thick lambskin, which was then covered in silk. The bar could be raised or lowered to accommodate height. From either end of the bar hung short gold chains with gilded leather manacles. Quinn rolled the contrivance into the center of the chamber. He adjusted the bar to fit his height. Returning to the cupboard, he brought forth a leather strap some eight inches wide and an inch in thickness, which was attached to an ivory handle. Bringing it to his mistress, he handed it to her, eyes still lowered, tensing when the fingers of her other hand wrapped themselves firmly about his balls.

"You will quickly get hard for me, won't you, Quinn?" she whispered in his ear, her tongue licking at him.

"Yes, mistress," he replied softly, reaching up to pinch one prominent nipple.

In return she squeezed his balls tightly. Not hard enough to cause him pain, but hard enough to remind him that she was in charge here. "Make yourself ready, then, Quinn," Ashley told him.

He bent himself over the padded bar and fastened the gilded leather manacles about his big wrists. His mistress tilted the bar so that his buttocks were elevated and most prominently displayed. Then he spread his legs slightly apart. She came around to stand directly in front of him. She thrust her mons directly into his face, and his tongue immediately pushed into her slit and sought her clitoris. Her hiss of indrawn breath told him that he had found his target.

"I did not say you could lick me, Quinn. You really are a very badly behaved slave tonight. That clever tongue of yours will not deter me from whipping you." She stepped back just slightly and held out the leather strap to him. "Kiss it, and thank me for what I am about to do," she said softly.

He kissed the strap-a slow, deep kiss. "I would rather this be your succulent lips, mistress, but thank you for the correction you will give me."

Ashley smiled and moved around behind the slave. Raising her arm, she brought it down with all her strength upon his deliciously wicked butt. For the next few minutes the only sound in the room was the strap smacking Quinn's ass, but then, as the color of his buttocks began to glow pink and then a fine burnished red, Quinn groaned. This admission of her superiority let a flood of pleasure fill her. "Are you getting hard, Quinn?" she demanded of him. "I want you as hard as rock." The strap bit into his succulent flesh several more times.

"I am hard, mistress. So hard I will keep you writhing with pleasure for the next several hours if you will but let me," Quinn told her. The leather about his cock hurt him.

"Are you certain you can keep your promise to me?" Ashley asked him. "If you do not I shall devise an even more painful punishment, Quinn."

"See for yourself, mistress," he invited her.

Lowering her arm and setting the strap aside, she moved around before him and bent down. The straps on the slave's penis were near to bursting. She undid them, freeing him of the tight leather. The penis swelled a bit more. "Perhaps you are ready, or near to it," Ashley allowed. "A few more strokes and you will be near. Then I will finish you off with my mouth before I let you fuck me," she told him. Picking up the strap, she laid five more blows upon him. Then, setting the tawse aside, she moved to the bedside, where a basket of toys was waiting. Choosing a finger-thick piece of marble with a silver loop handle at its end, she dipped it into a bowl of sweet oil.

He howled in outrage as she slowly pushed it into his anus. "No!"

Ashley laughed. "You do not tell me what to do, slave. I tell you, and it amuses me to bugger your ass while I suck your cock. We will see if you are as strong as you claim you are. If you come then I will give you as a toy to the other men slaves. If you can hold your juices until you are inside me, I will reward you with a wool garment you may wear in icy weather even without my permission." Sitting down before him, she studied his enormous penis thoughtfully. Then, leaning forward, she took the tip of him in her mouth and sucked hard. He was so big she knew she could not even devour half of him, so she concentrated upon his sensitive tip, her tongue encircling it, nipping at the tender flesh with her little teeth.

Quinn groaned, struggling to keep himself from releasing his passions. Had he been able to he would have put his fist into her dark hair to hold her firm and shoved his penis down her throat, making her milk him dry. But his arms were bound, and the sensation of the little dildo in his ass was frustration beyond all. The thought of putting her under him in a few minutes and fucking her until she was senseless helped him to control himself. That and her promise of a warm garment he might wear whenever he was cold. Sometimes the damp coming off the River Tiber in the winter was almost painful when it worked itself into his bones. Gritting his teeth, he concentrated more on the shameful sensation between his buttocks instead of the delightful sensation of her skillful mouth. Finally she released her hold on him, laughing.

"You are strong, Quinn," she told him. Standing up, she first withdrew the little dildo from between the cheeks of his ass, and then she released him from his manacles.

He stood tall, towering over her. "Am I forgiven, mistress?" he asked her softly.

Ashley ran her hand up his broad, smooth chest. "You are forgiven," she said. "Now put everything away, and then you may take me to bed, Quinn."

He quickly obeyed, and when he turned about he found her already sprawled upon the great bed on its raised dais. He joined her to lie upon his back. Then, lifting her up, he lowered her slowly onto his thick, hard penis, drawing her down, down, down, until she had fully sheathed him.

"You may look at me," she told him, and his blue eyes locked onto her green ones as she began to ride him.

Reaching up, he took her breasts in his hands, playing with them, kneading them, leaning forward to at first lick, and then suckle the nipples. He smiled as her eyes closed and she moaned softly. "The mistress is skilled at riding," he said.

"I learned at an early age from an uncle," she told him, her eyes still shut.

"And did he possess the weapon I wield for you, mistress?" Quinn asked daringly.

Ashley laughed, and her eyes opened to meet his. "You are unique in your attributes, Quinn," she told him. "Most deliciously unique."

He wrapped his arms about her and, sitting up, forced her to be still. His mouth closed over hers, his tongue snaking into her mouth to play with her tongue. Her breasts were mashed against his chest, and he actually felt her heart jump when he rolled her over to put her beneath him. "Wrap your legs about me, mistress," he growled in her ear. "You have had a most trying day, I can see, and you need to be well fucked before you sleep tonight. I am your slave, and I am ready to service you."

"Yesss!" Ashley hissed. She did want to be fucked. Fucked hard, so that all the frustration of the day would melt away. "Fuck me, Quinn!" she ordered him. "Service your mistress, and service her well!"

He began to move on her, at first with long, slow strokes of his long, thick penis. He pushed hungrily into her, making her whimper with her need for his hardness. He stopped after a few minutes and let her feel the throbbing from his member as it lay buried within her tight vagina. Her legs were tight about him as she opened herself as wide as she could to his passions. His big body towered over her. He held her arms pinioned over her head.

"Make me come!" she demanded of him.

The rhythm increased until his penis, wet with her juices, was flashing back and forth within her. Reaching out, he began to tease at her clitoris, rubbing and then pinching it. She squealed, and then he felt her hidden walls beginning to contract against his thick peg of flesh. The clitoris beneath the ball of his thumb grew swollen, and then her lust exploded, and she screamed with the torrent of pleasure that began to overwhelm her. When some minutes later she came to herself once more, she was pleased to find he was still hard, and still within her.

"The gods!" she exclaimed. "You are truly very proficient with that weapon of yours, Quinn."

"You are pleased with me, mistress?" he asked her softly.

"You have been a good slave," she said. "But the night is young yet, and I am still hungry," Ashley told him. "You will have to work hard to earn your wool garment."

"If the mistress is hungry, then the mistress must be satisfied until she is no longer hungry," Quinn said. Then he began to move on her once again.

If there was one thing Ashley loved about the Channel, it was the tireless men-and her ability to enjoy several orgasms in a single visit. She had five that evening, and awoke the following morning replete and more relaxed than she had been in several weeks. Automatically she closed off the television screen and set the remote aside. Outside of her windows it was already growing light, but a glance at her bedside clock showed it was just five fifteen in the morning. But then, it was June. The birds were already making morning noise in the trees around the house and the ivy climbing up the side of the building. She stretched, and then, rolling over, Ashley went back to sleep.

She awoke to the sound of a knock on her bedchamber door.

"It's eight o'clock, Miss Ashley," Byrnes's voice said through the door. "I've set your breakfast out on your terrace."

"Thank you," Ashley called out to let the butler know she was awake. Getting up, she ran into her shower and refreshed herself with a quick warm-to-cold rinse. Then, toweling off, she slid on a pair of pale green silk bikini pants, and wrapped a matching silk robe about herself as she moved from her bedroom out into her sitting room and then onto the stone balcony overlooking the sparkling waters of the bay.

Seating herself at the little round cafe table, she gobbled down a bowl of strawberries and cream. The berries had obviously just been picked, as they were still warm with the sun, as last night's fruit had been. The plate beneath the silver dome contained her usual breakfast: one scrambled egg, three strips of bacon, and half of a whole-wheat English muffin with butter. And iced tea, since Ashley occasionally had the odd habit of preferring Crystal Light iced tea to coffee with breakfast. Mrs. B. kept a large container of it in the fridge for her.

Her breakfast finished, she picked up the telephone and called Tiffany Pietro d'Angelo before she left for the office. "Hey, Tiff! Ashley. Any word for me on Prince Charming?"

Tiffany laughed. "Ray was out of town taking a deposition in D.C. yesterday. Joe didn't want to discuss it with his assistant. He should be back to the city this morning. How about if I call you when we get something from him?"

"Okay," Ashley said. She was disappointed. She had hoped for something this morning. "Tiff, are you sure this is okay?"

"It could be a perfect solution for you, Ashley."

"But if this guy is normal, how come he isn't already married?" Ashley wanted to know again. It was such a radical idea, an arranged union. "What if he has two heads?"

"Well, if he does, let's hope they're both handsome and have wicked tongues," Tiffany said mischievously.

"You are terrible." Ashley giggled. "Okay, I'll admit to being nervous. I just wish I knew a little bit more. I mean, if I have to go out on my own again, I better get moving pretty fast. Eighteen months will go like wildfire, Tiff."

"Look," Tiffany said, "it's Thursday. We should have something late today or tomorrow to tell you. Now I gotta run, sweetie. I open the office in the morning. Have a good day."

Tiffany put the phone down and turned to her husband. "Joe, first thing, you phone Ray. Ashley is very nervous, and she needs to know something about this guy. And frankly, I'm dying of curiosity too."

"I'll call him. I'll call him," her husband said. "How about I call him now? He'll be commuting, and his cell is always on."

"He'll be on the subway," Tiffany protested. "He won't be able to hear a thing."

"Subway? Ray Pietro d'Angelo? Not since he was thirty, babe. He has a car service pick him at his apartment every morning." Joe picked up his own cell and began to dial. "Ray? Joe. You know that client you were telling us about the other night at dinner?… Yeah, the guy who needs to get married. I've got the same situation with a client… Ashley Kimbrough, owner of Lacy Nothings… Yeah, the gift Tiffany brought Rose came from there. She's pretty, thirty-three, rich, successful, and has to get married by thirty-five or she loses everything to some cockamamie group called the Society Seeking Extraterrestrial Life… Yeah, SSEXL." Joe listened a few moments, and then he laughed. "Nah, her grandfather put a clause in the will to satisfy his crazy girlfriend who's into that crap. Now tell me a little more about your client." He listened for several minutes, finally saying, "Sounds to me like he'd be perfect for my client, Ray. They're both self-made with regard to their businesses, and dedicated to what they do. They're careful with money. Different religions, but not overly religious. This could be a win-win thing. Talk to your client, and let's set up a meeting as soon as possible. Your guy has only nine months left before he hits the big four-oh… Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you later today, buddy. Hi to Rose." Joe Pietro d'Angelo closed his cell and turned to his wife. "Ray says hi to you," he said.

"And?" Tiffany asked.

"And what?" he teased her.

"Joe, I'm gonna kill you," she threatened. "Gimme the details!"

"The guy has to get a wife before he's forty or, like Ashley, he loses everything. Crazy thing is, he's the one who made his father's firm so profitable, but the family is very old-school. When the old man died he gave a quarter mil to each of his six daughters; set his wife up in style; and then the bulk of it went to the son. With a catch, of course: If the son doesn't marry by forty it all gets sold and divided among the women. The sisters are even now looking for a buyer for the business," Joe said.

"Nice girls," Tiffany remarked. "Filled with sisterly love. So how come the brother is turning forty and isn't married? Is he gay?"

"No. Just a workaholic. There's never been time for him to get into a relationship that could thrive. If he isn't working, he's flying all over the world drumming up work for his business. He loves what he does, and Ray says he does it very well."

"Does what well?" Tiffany wanted to know.

"Oh, I didn't tell you? He's Restorations and Replications, R &R. You've heard of them, Tiffany. They're the fancy antique restorers, and they also design furniture that looks like it's antique for all that new money that wants to look old and respectable," Joe told his wife. "His father had a good restoration business going, but it was the son who saw the need for new antiques. And it's all American-made, although he has brought expert artisans over from Europe and Ireland to teach his employees the old tricks of the trade. He's one smart guy. Just like Ashley, he saw a need and stepped in to fill it. It's made him a multimillionaire. He won't lose it for lack of a wife."

"He could get one of those mail-order brides, couldn't he?" Tiffany said.

"Nah, not his style. With the people he associates with in his business, he'll want someone who is educated, can speak intelligently with his clients, and will be a terrific hostess. And Kimbrough Hall would be a wonderful place for him to entertain. We both know that Ashley isn't going to give up her home for anyone, and besides, he'd be nuts not to want to live there. It's a perfect venue for a guy in his field."

"So now all we have to do is get Ashley to agree," Tiffany said.

"No, first Ray speaks with his client, and then if the man is agreeable we set up a meeting with our client. They might not even like each other, Tiff, and they have to at least like each other to make this work," Joe said to his wife.

"How could any man not like Ashley?" she replied. "She's gorgeous."

"A lot of men have liked her, but for all the wrong reasons," Joe reminded her. "At least with this guy we start with an even playing field. She's rich; he's rich. So we know he's not after her money. Still, I'm going to run a check on him just to be certain. We can't be too careful, and Ashley has got to be protected."

"When will you talk to Ray again?" Tiffany wanted to know.

"This afternoon," Joe replied. "Don't call Ashley."

"Why not?" Tiffany wanted to know.

"Because until Ray's client says he is willing to meet her we have nothing. I don't want her getting her hopes up, only to dash them. She's had enough sorrow these last few years. She doesn't need to be rejected by someone who hasn't even met her."

"You're right," Tiffany agreed. "Poor kid. Losing her grandfather and her brother, having three weddings called off. It's a lot to bear. It's a wonder she's so normal and nice, isn't it?" And then Tiffany remembered Ashley's remark yesterday afternoon about someone's cute butt getting whipped. She almost giggled as she considered what kind of fantasies Ashley must have on the Channel. But hell, if a little naughty spanking took the edge off of her nerves, so what? That was the beauty of the Channel: Nothing was real. She turned to her husband. "You playing cards tonight with your group?"

"Yeah. We'll have dinner at the club and play there," Joe told her. "You don't mind being alone, do you?"

"Of course not," Tiffany said with a smile, and she patted his shoulder. "You need your nights out." And I need the Channel, she was already thinking. Tonight she was going to let the young sultan spank her, and then he would fuck her brains out. No. She didn't mind Joe's card playing after work at all. She welcomed it!