Several evenings after that, Julian asked if I would care for a new game. I was eager to please him and so I agreed. He explained that because his condition kept him from participating fully in our bedroom, he could derive pleasure from watching others. He insinuated that I might decide that I enjoyed being watched. I could never be sure where he was—his home was designed so that he might access any room—and he could be watching at any time.

He refrained from touching me. Speaking softly and close so that his words and breath caressed just the same, he said he had been watching while I dressed in the morning, while I bathed, while the waste flowed from my cunny, while Mrs. Federick fingered me, while I sipped absinthe and rubbed my breasts. The list went on, enumerating any time I thought I had been alone. I felt anxious though the fluttering feeling in my stomach was pleasing. The thought of his eyes on me during such private times aroused me.

When I was wet from the unusual anxious sensations, Julian rang for the servants. He instructed me to choose from those who answered the call. I should pick the one who I liked the looks of the most. I should choose carefully because I would spend the night with that one. I would do lewd acts with my choice, while Julian secretly watched.

By the time the six or so men filed into the room I was in a froth. I was certain my life was bolder than any other’s had been. I would experience things none other would. They stood, not looking at me, waiting for my decision. I wondered if they knew they were being evaluated.

I walked around discreetly so that I might smell them without their notice. Thankfully none aroused the need for violence that the footman on my first night in this house had. I did not want to kill tonight. Without preamble, I went to the first one and kissed him on the lips. His lips were gloriously full. The next one’s most attractive feature was his eyes. I looked deep into the vibrant green that reminded me of life and I ran my fingertips along his face.

I went down the line, touching and testing each one according to their strengths. The last man had an impressively wide chest. I slowly unbuttoned his livery—starting with jacket, then waistcoat, and finally the stiff shirt before slipping my hands inside his undershirt to run across the planes of his chest. Once I had touched each one, the effect I had stood out plain as day in their trousers.

Very aware of Julian’s eyes on me, I bent over and looked down the line, comparing the bulges. I chose the one that delighted me the most, the tall one with the green eyes. Julian dismissed them all and the one with the lips protested, “Sir Lawrence, it is my turn. I need this!”

Julian chastised, “Would you displease the Lady of this house by denying her choice? No, that will not do, Charles. Adjustments must be made to fit her into our lives.” He shooed the man away with the others. He spoke again, “Also, I am an Earl now. You would do well to remember my title, no matter how long you have been with me.”

“Apologies, my Lord.” Charles inclined his head to me as well. “My lady.” He closed the door behind him.

 

My selection came to my chamber that night and we were intimate. I was constantly aware that Julian was watching and my imagination had me seeing him peering from every cracked door, closet, painting, and vent. I was so preoccupied with trying to ferret him out that I did not notice him looking at me from the most obvious place.

The session was good, and the techniques he employed with his mouth and hands were not unlike Julian’s. His rutting was satisfactory in both stamina and speed. I lay with my legs up, allowing gravity to aid in keeping his seed in my womb, with my most private parts pointed in the direction I thought Julian could best see.

The man dressed himself and seemed a little rusty with the operation. He bowed to me before leaving and I noticed two things. His eyes seemed lighter and the key hung around his neck. The first I dismissed as a change in lighting. The second had me intrigued.

When he left, I followed him with what I hoped was stealth. I knew Julian probably watched me and it made my escapades all the more exciting. The rest of the house was asleep so, as long as I avoided being seen by the man himself, I could wander undiscovered. The man, my evening partner, left the house after retrieving some money from Julian’s desk.

Since Julian was most likely watching I did not doubt that he knew and I was not responsible for reporting the theft. I stood at the desk, pondering. Did his possession of the key mean that Julian was in the hidden room? I pressed my ear to the hollow panel yet heard nothing. Perhaps the secret room held its own secrets—passages to other parts of the house, maybe.

I glanced at the open book on Julian’s desk. It appeared to be a register. I would have passed it over had I not seen my name. It was written in my own script. I stared a moment and turned the page. Finding it blank, I returned to the original page and then back one more. My name was on this page as well among a list of others.

I looked at the pages more carefully, aware that if Julian did not want me to see this, he would come out of his hiding place. It was a catalog with several columns following each name. There was a date, a number of hours, another number of hours, and then a set of letters. A few of them had another date at the end. Most often the two numbers of hours were close if not exactly the same. Mine were not at all similar. On one page the numbers beside my name were twelve and one. The other had twelve and three.

I flipped through the book looking for a table of contents or key. At the front the columns were headed:

Used Date Intended Actual Activities Death

It was Julian’s handwriting. I would recognize it anywhere. It was the only view of the outside world I’d had all the years I lived in the asylum. I flipped back through to see which entries had a “death” date. Then I noticed Thaddeus had many entries. For a time, he had more entries than any other. The last entry with his name had a death date.

I put it back as I found it. On that open page there was my name at the top, then three others, then the last one. The man I had spent the evening in the arms of, the one who had written here most recently, was named Albert. He had written his name, today’s date, seven intended number of hours and, in the activities column, the letters “SLR.”

I curled up in the most comfortable chair in Julian’s office. It had a high back and sides. I leaned my head on one of the wings. I wanted to talk to him the instant he decided to come out. I must have fallen asleep because I awoke to Albert standing over me. I jumped, not because he startled me but because he looked so wretched. His hands, the hands that had caressed me hours before, were battered and bloody from fighting.

He smiled at me and there was blood around his teeth. His eyebrow was matted and swollen, his nose crooked. “Waiting up for me. Flattering.” He looked at his pocket watch. “I have enough time, if you want me again.” He reached for me with his grotesque hands and I pulled back.

“I just want Julian… Lord Brooksberry.”

This made him smile more broadly. He went to the desk, unlocked the drawer, and reached in. When the door panel popped open, I became confused. How did he know how to operate the latch? Julian had said only he knew. Now I did also, but Albert? He hardly seemed like a confidant for the Earl, unless my choice had somehow elevated his status in the house.

Several minutes later Julian and Albert came stumbling out. They both seemed weak; the latter was barely upright. “Pull the bell, my love.” I did and as we waited for the servants, Julian smiled at me.

The footman came to help Albert to his room. Julian declined his valet’s offer of help. He put his arm around my shoulders and together we went to bed, all questions and worries erased from my mind with a few touches from Julian. As always.