This story of a blackguard and his beautiful slave, will have you enthralled from word one... take it away Batty Patti!
Hey Lisa,
How’s my little British Bombshell? Not so much of the little!
I stopped in today to bloviate about my new book “The Slave’s Mask” which is book two of “The Masquerade Trilogy”. Okay, I won’t bloviate. I’ll just tell you a little about it. It takes place in 1863 during the American Civil War, though most of the story takes place in London. I like BDSM and if you have read any of my books, there is a little sprinkling of bondage through most of them. “The Slave’s Mask” has more than most. I would classify it as a historical BDSM book. In “Slave”, one of my characters is a man who has the need to dominate other men during sex and in the time period that this book takes place, not only is homosexual a term that is taboo but BDSM would be thought of as deviant or perverse, most certainly.
I’ve read many books with elements from mild to extreme in their use of BDSM and I will admit to you, dear readers, more than one made me extremely uncomfortable. A wide variety of people enjoy the odd use of handcuffs or being tied to the bed and “forced” to submit as long as the players are consenting adults and the parties agree. There are many more extreme forms that have me wiggling on the chair, and not in a good way. “Slave” is not extreme in its use of domination and submission but it is a clear theme and most of my character’s bed play, involves BDSM in one form or another.
The theme throughout this story is the clear need of one character to dominate and the need of one character to submit to his “Master”. With both of these men, it is a “need” that they explore together and the balance that they find which is a perfect blend for these two men. I enjoy the journey of two men finding their way to love in a relationship, especially when one craves something but doesn’t really understand that this is a clear “need”. In this case, my submissive, “Slave” doesn’t even realize the need to be dominated and he must be led. It isn’t so much the arrival at the end, but the journey to get there and I just enjoy as an author, taking you there. I hope that I’ve done a good job for you and that you enjoy “The Slave’s Mask”.
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BLURB:
Infamous American blackguard and blockade runner, Captain Anthony Charles, has made a fortune in gold, running contraband between England and the Confederate States at the height of the Civil War in 1863. Anthony knows good brandy and fine cigars and his English clients appreciate him for it, but the captain also craves young submissive men. When he wins a young prostitute at an auction, Francois becomes his slave for seven days.
Francois has turned to prostitution to survive, but he is more than a whore. While most men who enjoy his favors treat him cruelly, he is stunned by this temporary owner's kindness. Being a slave to this blue-eyed Master is no difficult task. Both men find that love may not be as elusive as they thought. Will the separation of oceans and time test their love or bring pain beyond bearing?
EXCERPT:
The Tempest made its way through the oily waters of the Thames, preparing to drop anchor in the busy harbor. At her wheel stood the formidable figure of Captain Anthony Charles. He barked out orders to his less than presentable crew made up of cutthroats and pirates, men that fit the captain's specific needs perfectly. Anthony felt the excitement of the crew as they scrambled to finish his orders so that they could have their shore leave. The long trip from America had exhausted them all and the captain knew they were anxious to blow off steam, find themselves a whore, and drink themselves sick.
Anthony's taste in whores was quite different from his men and in the year 1863, they were quite taboo, not only here in England but in America as well. He was fortunate to know a purveyor or two of the boys he liked to use and he made certain to bring some of the finest rums from the Bahamas, Cuba, and Bermuda for his connections. He paid them handsomely and was rewarded with the highest quality in submissive young men. His cock hardened as he thought of the coming weeks, tasting the youth that he craved while loading his strong box with more gold and silver than he could carry.
Anthony was called a gentleman here in England and a Blockade Runner and blackguard by the Union troops. Trading arms and other luxuries with the Confederacy and in turn, highly priced cotton and tobacco with the English, had made Anthony Charles a very wealthy man in the two years since the beginning of the War Between the States. Though the Union had more than five hundred ships patrolling the waters around the southern states, waiting to catch just such a ship as the Tempest, Anthony had been able to avoid capture to date. Weighted down with cargo, it would have been difficult to outrun the Union fleet had he been spotted, and once within blockaded waters, he traveled by night with blackened sails, like his pirate ancestors. He knew that the Union was making progress and that the Confederacy could only hold out for so long under such an onslaught. As such, he always insisted on taking his payment in gold, knowing that the Confederate notes would someday soon be worthless.
Easing his ship into its prearranged berth, he called out to the crew to drop anchor. The sound of the anchor hitting the filthy water was like music to his ears. Within a few hours, his men would be whoring and Anthony would be visiting a very discreet brothel not far from theTempest. Anthony Charles was a handsome man and he knew it. His coal black hair and light blue eyes were his very best features. He stood several inches above six feet and his shoulders were broad. The years of work on board various ships had shaped his body into a rock hard, solid mass of muscle. At thirty years of age, he enticed every woman that locked eyes with him. Alas, womanly company was not on the menu with Anthony Charles. He danced with them and dined with them to keep up appearances and was known as a rogue. But sleep with them, never. When they fluttered their pretty lashes at him and coyly smiled an invitation, he explained that he was engaged to be married and they sighed their disappointment, hating the one who'd captured his heart.
"Mr Baker," Anthony called out. The smaller man swung his head around at the sound and hurried to his captain's side. Anthony nearly smiled as his bosun jumped to obey his orders.
"Aye, Captain? Is there something you need, sir?" Anthony was pleased that his crew showed him instant respect. His dominant personality would have it no other way. He demanded a lot of his crew and they respected him for it. Of course, he also paid well for their loyalty.
"Set the watch, Mr Baker. Tell the men on the watch that they will be more than handsomely rewarded for their service. Ask for volunteers first but if need be, mete out their assignments."
"Aye, Captain," Mr Baker replied. "Was there anything else, sir?" Mr Baker waited patiently to hear his captain's orders.
"I will be staying onshore this evening. I trust that you will enjoy yourself as well." He landed a large palm on the bosun's shoulder as the man's face flushed with color.
"Aye, Captain," he muttered, sounding somewhat embarrassed. "Have a good time, Captain." Anthony managed a smile for his second in command as he prepared to return to his cabin.
"I intend to, Mr Baker." At the thought of it, Anthony's cock throbbed within the confines of his tightly cut britches. He hurried to turn his back on Mr Baker, so as not to show his excitement. Anthony was not a small man and he knew as his cock swelled, he would become obvious within moments. He brushed past more than one excited sailor on his way back to his large and well-appointed cabin. By the time he got to the large oak portal, he was nearly bursting from his arousal. The thought of having a young thing at his feet, blindfolded and wrists bound while Anthony fucked his willing mouth, had him ready to come.
Anthony pushed open the door to his cabin and entered, quickly locking it from the inside. He proceeded to stand before his bed as he unfastened his britches. His impressive long, thick cock sprang from its confines and Anthony took it in hand, giving it only a few rough strokes before he felt his orgasm rise. Raising his other hand and grasping the bulkhead, he pictured a young submissive whimper as his head was held in place with two fists in his hair, while his mouth was violated over and over by Anthony's straining member. Anthony stroked his cock harder, faster, picturing the way the submissive raised his face just a little, letting the large head of Anthony's cock bump the back of his throat over and over again. The imagined stimulation was too much and Anthony fairly sped his palm in frenzied motions.
He felt a river of pre-come as it left his slit, and gritting his teeth, he glanced down. The sight of his purple head and the fantasy of it in the young man's mouth were too much for Anthony. He grunted and came, feeling the roiling heat leave his balls and travel the length of his cock all the way up. Anthony forced himself to keep his eyes open and on the sight of his climax and nearly lost his mind as a fountain of come spewed forth, arcing in the air and then landing on the floor at his feet. He grunted again and felt his knees nearly buckle as come pulsed out of him, sending shivers of delight through his body. Anthony shuddered as the climax sent a second, then third, spray of semen pouring out of his body. He realized he'd gone way too long without. Anthony fastened his britches and grabbed his heavy purse, leaving his cabin soon after as he made for the discreet house several blocks from the docks.
Anthony had clients to look up, once he'd found his pleasure for the night, but he was solely focused on one thing this evening. His cock thickened once again as he thought of it. Within fifteen minutes, Anthony stepped inside the dark rooms of Pleasure House. Greeted by Marcello, a bald giant of a man, he was welcomed within.
"'Tis good to see you, Milord Captain," Marcello said formally, bowing only slightly at the waist. Madame Gizelle had chosen well when she'd picked Marcello to guard her door. He sorted the riff raff from the paying clientele and kept out those less deeply pocketed. All guests had to be referred to Pleasure House by a current client. That way, Madame was able to assure a modicum of safety for her employees. Still, they had the occasional drop in of less than savory characters who'd heard rumors of the special services that Madame offered. Those were turned away by Marcello, sometimes by force, if the poor sod was overly insistent. A hulking bear of a man, not many men were a match for Marcello.
"Good evening Marcello. It's nice to see you," Anthony swept his top hat from his head and glanced around the quiet room. It was just after dark and the common rooms were empty but for a buffet laid upon the sideboard for tonight's guests and a healthy amount of candles, which were reflected in the many mirrors around the room. Crystal decanters and the finest in Anthony's liquors were laid out at the lavishly carved mahogany bar opposite the sidebar. Marcello stepped behind the bar, and offered Anthony a libation.
"What will you have this evening, Milord Captain? Madame has a fine selection, from around the world I hear." Marcello was obviously trying not to smile, though his wide lips twitched. Anthony was certain that Marcello knew from where Madame Gizelle's wine cellars were stocked. Anthony regularly had shipments sent over, for a fair price of course, but the superb quality of the imports, were without question.
"Brandy, Marcello. My thanks." Marcello nodded and picked up a cut crystal decanter. The golden liquid within sparkled in the candlelight.
"Did I hear the door, Marcello? Ah, Anthony," Madame Gizelle purred as she entered the Salon where she saw the American, standing at the bar. Anthony immediately put down his drink and approached the woman. He bowed and took her proffered hand, kissing her knuckles in a gentlemanly gesture.
"Ah Gizelle, if it's possible you look even more lovely and youthful than the last time we met," he said in reply. She chuckled.
"Anthony darling," she said as she turned, obviously showing off her shapely behind to the ship captain. "You ever make a girl swoon."
Madame Gizelle was far from being a girl. Why, the woman must have nearly sixty years under that dress but she was as well preserved as any woman half her age. Anthony had to admire a woman who knew how to take care of herself. Her face certainly didn't show her age and to be factual, neither did her shapely curves. The length of her dress was cut scandalously high, to show a turn of ankle above the high heeled slippers she wore. Her neckline was cut equally low, showing off two very plump corseted breasts perched high above. A hint of rouged nipple peeked above the barely concealing imported French lace. Her silk dress of the highest quality was cut in the Empire style, a tight ribbon wound round her body beneath her breasts, forcing them even higher, and the fabric of the gown draped her body to show off her curves. Anthony, though not interested in female flesh, appreciated the simple cut of the gown and much preferred it to the ridiculous wide hoops that adorned the southern belles back home.
"Ah Gizelle, you make me wish for simpler times, spent with my head in the lap of woman like you, stretched out on the settee so that I can gaze into your beautiful eyes." Gizelle burst into laughter at the blackguard's silken lies.
"Anthony," she purred, slipping her elbow in his, as she led him to the sofa. "I am so glad that you stopped in tonight. I have the most wonderful new man to introduce you to. I believe he will fit your tastes perfectly." Anthony raised an eyebrow as he sat in the spot she patted very close to her on the small couch. One of the reasons Anthony frequented Pleasure House was that, generally speaking, he never left unsatisfied. Madame Gizelle had a keen eye for whores and high quality males were so rare. On his last trip to Madame's, he had left quite happy and much lighter in the purse.
"How long will you be staying this time, my darling?" Gizelle asked.
"Not terribly long, perhaps a fortnight," he replied. He watched as her lips turned into a charmingly pouty moue.
"Oh dear Captain, then we must make the most of your visit." She stood suddenly and offered her hand, grasping his large paw in her tiny one. "Come dearest, I will introduce you to Francois, freshly arrived from France. I think you will like this one."
Anthony's cock throbbed as he stood and followed the petite woman to the next floor where several doors lined the corridor. The house was richly appointed, but from the outside, you'd never know it. Upon its interior walls were the finest works of art. Hanging from the ceilings were sparkling crystal chandeliers, and thick Persian rugs hugged the ground. They padded silently to a room at the end of the hall. Madame knocked once on the portal and then pushed her way in, bringing Anthony in her wake. Once inside the opulent chamber, she closed the door.
"Francois?" she said into the room. Anthony heard movement in the corner, on the other side of the bed, and in the dim candlelight, a form rose from its seated position at the small secretary. The man moved into the candlelight, toward the pair, and only a moment later, Anthony got a good look at the man he'd be spending the next few hours with. He was small, just the kind of man Anthony liked. His white blond hair was past shoulder length and his light-colored eyes were large. He wore a fashionable goatee, which was closely trimmed to his face, and after one quick glance up to see Anthony, his client for the evening, he kept his eyes downcast, a perfectly submissive pose. Anthony was more than a little intrigued.
"Francois, this is Captain Anthony. You will entertain him this evening. You must do everything he asks and he will be kind to you." The young man glanced quickly at Madame Gizelle and nodded almost imperceptively. Anthony couldn't detect fear from the young man and he was more than anxious to put his theory to the test.
"Well then, Captain, I must take my leave for the evening," she said, unwinding her elbow from his as she made for the door. "Enjoy, Captain, bon appétit." Anthony's cock throbbed in his tight britches.
"Sleep well, Madame, and my gratitude," he said.
Anthony's taste in whores was quite different from his men and in the year 1863, they were quite taboo, not only here in England but in America as well. He was fortunate to know a purveyor or two of the boys he liked to use and he made certain to bring some of the finest rums from the Bahamas, Cuba, and Bermuda for his connections. He paid them handsomely and was rewarded with the highest quality in submissive young men. His cock hardened as he thought of the coming weeks, tasting the youth that he craved while loading his strong box with more gold and silver than he could carry.
Anthony was called a gentleman here in England and a Blockade Runner and blackguard by the Union troops. Trading arms and other luxuries with the Confederacy and in turn, highly priced cotton and tobacco with the English, had made Anthony Charles a very wealthy man in the two years since the beginning of the War Between the States. Though the Union had more than five hundred ships patrolling the waters around the southern states, waiting to catch just such a ship as the Tempest, Anthony had been able to avoid capture to date. Weighted down with cargo, it would have been difficult to outrun the Union fleet had he been spotted, and once within blockaded waters, he traveled by night with blackened sails, like his pirate ancestors. He knew that the Union was making progress and that the Confederacy could only hold out for so long under such an onslaught. As such, he always insisted on taking his payment in gold, knowing that the Confederate notes would someday soon be worthless.
Easing his ship into its prearranged berth, he called out to the crew to drop anchor. The sound of the anchor hitting the filthy water was like music to his ears. Within a few hours, his men would be whoring and Anthony would be visiting a very discreet brothel not far from theTempest. Anthony Charles was a handsome man and he knew it. His coal black hair and light blue eyes were his very best features. He stood several inches above six feet and his shoulders were broad. The years of work on board various ships had shaped his body into a rock hard, solid mass of muscle. At thirty years of age, he enticed every woman that locked eyes with him. Alas, womanly company was not on the menu with Anthony Charles. He danced with them and dined with them to keep up appearances and was known as a rogue. But sleep with them, never. When they fluttered their pretty lashes at him and coyly smiled an invitation, he explained that he was engaged to be married and they sighed their disappointment, hating the one who'd captured his heart.
"Mr Baker," Anthony called out. The smaller man swung his head around at the sound and hurried to his captain's side. Anthony nearly smiled as his bosun jumped to obey his orders.
"Aye, Captain? Is there something you need, sir?" Anthony was pleased that his crew showed him instant respect. His dominant personality would have it no other way. He demanded a lot of his crew and they respected him for it. Of course, he also paid well for their loyalty.
"Set the watch, Mr Baker. Tell the men on the watch that they will be more than handsomely rewarded for their service. Ask for volunteers first but if need be, mete out their assignments."
"Aye, Captain," Mr Baker replied. "Was there anything else, sir?" Mr Baker waited patiently to hear his captain's orders.
"I will be staying onshore this evening. I trust that you will enjoy yourself as well." He landed a large palm on the bosun's shoulder as the man's face flushed with color.
"Aye, Captain," he muttered, sounding somewhat embarrassed. "Have a good time, Captain." Anthony managed a smile for his second in command as he prepared to return to his cabin.
"I intend to, Mr Baker." At the thought of it, Anthony's cock throbbed within the confines of his tightly cut britches. He hurried to turn his back on Mr Baker, so as not to show his excitement. Anthony was not a small man and he knew as his cock swelled, he would become obvious within moments. He brushed past more than one excited sailor on his way back to his large and well-appointed cabin. By the time he got to the large oak portal, he was nearly bursting from his arousal. The thought of having a young thing at his feet, blindfolded and wrists bound while Anthony fucked his willing mouth, had him ready to come.
Anthony pushed open the door to his cabin and entered, quickly locking it from the inside. He proceeded to stand before his bed as he unfastened his britches. His impressive long, thick cock sprang from its confines and Anthony took it in hand, giving it only a few rough strokes before he felt his orgasm rise. Raising his other hand and grasping the bulkhead, he pictured a young submissive whimper as his head was held in place with two fists in his hair, while his mouth was violated over and over by Anthony's straining member. Anthony stroked his cock harder, faster, picturing the way the submissive raised his face just a little, letting the large head of Anthony's cock bump the back of his throat over and over again. The imagined stimulation was too much and Anthony fairly sped his palm in frenzied motions.
He felt a river of pre-come as it left his slit, and gritting his teeth, he glanced down. The sight of his purple head and the fantasy of it in the young man's mouth were too much for Anthony. He grunted and came, feeling the roiling heat leave his balls and travel the length of his cock all the way up. Anthony forced himself to keep his eyes open and on the sight of his climax and nearly lost his mind as a fountain of come spewed forth, arcing in the air and then landing on the floor at his feet. He grunted again and felt his knees nearly buckle as come pulsed out of him, sending shivers of delight through his body. Anthony shuddered as the climax sent a second, then third, spray of semen pouring out of his body. He realized he'd gone way too long without. Anthony fastened his britches and grabbed his heavy purse, leaving his cabin soon after as he made for the discreet house several blocks from the docks.
Anthony had clients to look up, once he'd found his pleasure for the night, but he was solely focused on one thing this evening. His cock thickened once again as he thought of it. Within fifteen minutes, Anthony stepped inside the dark rooms of Pleasure House. Greeted by Marcello, a bald giant of a man, he was welcomed within.
"'Tis good to see you, Milord Captain," Marcello said formally, bowing only slightly at the waist. Madame Gizelle had chosen well when she'd picked Marcello to guard her door. He sorted the riff raff from the paying clientele and kept out those less deeply pocketed. All guests had to be referred to Pleasure House by a current client. That way, Madame was able to assure a modicum of safety for her employees. Still, they had the occasional drop in of less than savory characters who'd heard rumors of the special services that Madame offered. Those were turned away by Marcello, sometimes by force, if the poor sod was overly insistent. A hulking bear of a man, not many men were a match for Marcello.
"Good evening Marcello. It's nice to see you," Anthony swept his top hat from his head and glanced around the quiet room. It was just after dark and the common rooms were empty but for a buffet laid upon the sideboard for tonight's guests and a healthy amount of candles, which were reflected in the many mirrors around the room. Crystal decanters and the finest in Anthony's liquors were laid out at the lavishly carved mahogany bar opposite the sidebar. Marcello stepped behind the bar, and offered Anthony a libation.
"What will you have this evening, Milord Captain? Madame has a fine selection, from around the world I hear." Marcello was obviously trying not to smile, though his wide lips twitched. Anthony was certain that Marcello knew from where Madame Gizelle's wine cellars were stocked. Anthony regularly had shipments sent over, for a fair price of course, but the superb quality of the imports, were without question.
"Brandy, Marcello. My thanks." Marcello nodded and picked up a cut crystal decanter. The golden liquid within sparkled in the candlelight.
"Did I hear the door, Marcello? Ah, Anthony," Madame Gizelle purred as she entered the Salon where she saw the American, standing at the bar. Anthony immediately put down his drink and approached the woman. He bowed and took her proffered hand, kissing her knuckles in a gentlemanly gesture.
"Ah Gizelle, if it's possible you look even more lovely and youthful than the last time we met," he said in reply. She chuckled.
"Anthony darling," she said as she turned, obviously showing off her shapely behind to the ship captain. "You ever make a girl swoon."
Madame Gizelle was far from being a girl. Why, the woman must have nearly sixty years under that dress but she was as well preserved as any woman half her age. Anthony had to admire a woman who knew how to take care of herself. Her face certainly didn't show her age and to be factual, neither did her shapely curves. The length of her dress was cut scandalously high, to show a turn of ankle above the high heeled slippers she wore. Her neckline was cut equally low, showing off two very plump corseted breasts perched high above. A hint of rouged nipple peeked above the barely concealing imported French lace. Her silk dress of the highest quality was cut in the Empire style, a tight ribbon wound round her body beneath her breasts, forcing them even higher, and the fabric of the gown draped her body to show off her curves. Anthony, though not interested in female flesh, appreciated the simple cut of the gown and much preferred it to the ridiculous wide hoops that adorned the southern belles back home.
"Ah Gizelle, you make me wish for simpler times, spent with my head in the lap of woman like you, stretched out on the settee so that I can gaze into your beautiful eyes." Gizelle burst into laughter at the blackguard's silken lies.
"Anthony," she purred, slipping her elbow in his, as she led him to the sofa. "I am so glad that you stopped in tonight. I have the most wonderful new man to introduce you to. I believe he will fit your tastes perfectly." Anthony raised an eyebrow as he sat in the spot she patted very close to her on the small couch. One of the reasons Anthony frequented Pleasure House was that, generally speaking, he never left unsatisfied. Madame Gizelle had a keen eye for whores and high quality males were so rare. On his last trip to Madame's, he had left quite happy and much lighter in the purse.
"How long will you be staying this time, my darling?" Gizelle asked.
"Not terribly long, perhaps a fortnight," he replied. He watched as her lips turned into a charmingly pouty moue.
"Oh dear Captain, then we must make the most of your visit." She stood suddenly and offered her hand, grasping his large paw in her tiny one. "Come dearest, I will introduce you to Francois, freshly arrived from France. I think you will like this one."
Anthony's cock throbbed as he stood and followed the petite woman to the next floor where several doors lined the corridor. The house was richly appointed, but from the outside, you'd never know it. Upon its interior walls were the finest works of art. Hanging from the ceilings were sparkling crystal chandeliers, and thick Persian rugs hugged the ground. They padded silently to a room at the end of the hall. Madame knocked once on the portal and then pushed her way in, bringing Anthony in her wake. Once inside the opulent chamber, she closed the door.
"Francois?" she said into the room. Anthony heard movement in the corner, on the other side of the bed, and in the dim candlelight, a form rose from its seated position at the small secretary. The man moved into the candlelight, toward the pair, and only a moment later, Anthony got a good look at the man he'd be spending the next few hours with. He was small, just the kind of man Anthony liked. His white blond hair was past shoulder length and his light-colored eyes were large. He wore a fashionable goatee, which was closely trimmed to his face, and after one quick glance up to see Anthony, his client for the evening, he kept his eyes downcast, a perfectly submissive pose. Anthony was more than a little intrigued.
"Francois, this is Captain Anthony. You will entertain him this evening. You must do everything he asks and he will be kind to you." The young man glanced quickly at Madame Gizelle and nodded almost imperceptively. Anthony couldn't detect fear from the young man and he was more than anxious to put his theory to the test.
"Well then, Captain, I must take my leave for the evening," she said, unwinding her elbow from his as she made for the door. "Enjoy, Captain, bon appétit." Anthony's cock throbbed in his tight britches.
"Sleep well, Madame, and my gratitude," he said.
