Burning for Love by Evangeline Anderson
50
Rissa put on her wedding night peignoir in a kind of daze. It was a silky, virginal white and it seemed to float around her body like a cloud. Under the fine, soft material her glowing points could be clearly seen, advertising the fact that her Heat Cycle was ramping up again.
Less obvious, but still visible to the discerning eye, was the Chastity Device with its thick metal belt and the silver plate that ran between her legs. Lady Mildew had given Lord Shammington—now Royal Consort Shammington, Rissa reminded herself—the remote which released the locking mechanism earlier. She had made a whole little ceremony of it, presenting it to him like she was handing him Rissa’s virtue and virginity on a silver platter at the same time.
“My Lord,” she had said, curtseying low as she held out the small black remote. “This is the one and only mechanism that will release the Princess’s Chastity Device. Please take it and use it when you wish to have her in a carnal fashion, as it is right and correct for a husband to do.”
Her new husband had received the remote gravely.
“I thank you, Lady Mildew, for guarding my new bride’s chastity and virtue so carefully until I could claim her as my own,” he said to the older woman. “Your many sacrifices as you watched over her will not be forgotten.”
Lady Mildew had seemed extremely pleased by his words. She left the honeymoon suite with a triumphant glance at Rissa as if to say, See? I win!
If her old chaperone’s idea of winning was handing Rissa over to her new husband to do with as he chose, then Rissa supposed she was correct. Lord Shammington now had the right, as her husband, to have her any way he wanted. She supposed that was the point of the gauzy white peignoir which she had been given to wear. It was sensual and virginal at the same time—a symbol of her virtue and also her willingness to submit to whatever her new husband wanted to do to her sexually.
I know what he wants, Rissa thought grimly. Most brides do not have any idea on their wedding night but thanks to James, I know exactly what is going to happen to me.
It was one reason she was delaying in the bathing room instead of going out to join Lord Shammington in the main bed chamber. Though her Heat Cycle was rising and she was beginning to feel slightly overheated, she didn’t wish to go through what was necessary to slake her Heat.
I wish I still thought it only involved kissing with the tongue, she thought desperately as she looked at herself in the mirror. Now I know better—and I want no part of it!
But she could not stay in the bathing room forever, she reminded herself. At some point, her new husband would begin to wonder what had become of her. So even though she wanted to cry and scream and hide herself away, she could not do it. She must go out and do her duty for her planet—she must allow him to slake her Heat and do his best to make an heir to the throne inside her.
Maybe it won’t be so bad, she told herself. At least I will get this horrible device off of me and this terrible plug out of my channel!
Although, how could she bear to have a male’s shaft sawing in and out of her when she was so tender from wearing the awful thing for a whole week? Surely it would be horribly painful!
But painful or not, Rissa was quite certain she couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. Maybe if she closed her eyes and imagined James as the deed was done to her, she could bear it.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out into the opulent main chamber.
Lord Shammington was lounging on the gold velvet couch before the fireplace, popping expensive gourmet bonbons into his mouth. He barely even looked up when Rissa came out, preferring instead to peruse the golden box he held, looking for the perfect bonbon for his consumption.
Rissa cleared her throat uncertainly.
“Husband?” she said, and her voice went high and uncertain on the word. It felt so strange—so wrong—to be calling him that.
“Mmm?” Lord Shammington looked up at last, a preoccupied expression still on his face. When he saw her fully, he smiled. “Ah my darling, don’t you look lovely,” he said. Putting down the box of bonbons, he came to take Rissa’s hands in his own.
Rissa couldn’t help noticing that without the high, buckled shoes he had worn at the ceremony, he was barely an inch taller than her. Also, when his breath blew in her face it had an oddly familiar scent. Under the expensive chocolate of the bonbons was a faint smell of…
“Were you smoking a cigarillo just now?” she blurted.
“I went out on the balcony for a smoke—indeed I did.” He nodded at the tall glass doors which were still open to let in the evening breeze. “What of it?”
“Nothing.” Rissa shook her head. “It just…reminded me of someone.”
“Someone nice, I hope.” He smiled at her.
He had not yet taken off his wig—they still wore them, apparently, in the Second Court—and now a sting-fly came buzzing in through the open doors to hum around his head. Such insects were common enough—they were attracted by the sweet, perfumed powder used on the elaborately curled wigs. But if they lighted on one’s exposed skin, they often gave a painful jab with their barbed stinger.
“Oh, look out!” Rissa exclaimed, batting at the fly. “Do be careful—they sting!”
She succeeded in knocking away the fly but at the same time, she accidentally knocked the powdered wig off her new husband’s head.
“Watch out, you little fool!” Lord Shammington exclaimed. “You must be careful!”
But even as he spoke, his whole appearance changed.
The moment the wig came off his head, he lost his youthful look. Wrinkles grew around the corners of his eyes and mouth and his formerly white teeth went yellow. He no longer looked like a fine young man—he appeared, instead, to be a man in his late forties…a man Rissa knew.
“Oh!” she gasped, putting a hand to her cheek. “Duke Grabbington!”
