Page 4 of A Tale of Two Dukes

She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “It’s a molly house, a place where men enjoy the company of men, you twit. Now tell me the truth. Why would you let me send you out there, a virgin, when I could have made far more money from auctioning off that bit of flesh that proves you’re innocent?”

I have no answers for her. Not right away, at least. I can’t tell her why I ran. I can’t tell anyone. And so, I craft a tale in my mind, something that might be believable.

“My father died, and I was his only child. Left with nothing, I had to find a way to make it in this world. I- I had no other recourse. If I had known my maidenhead would fetch a higher price, I wouldn’t have kept it from you. In truth, I’m more concerned about a place to sleep than what my body can earn.”

It’s mostly true, at least. Perhaps that’s why her face softens as she reaches out to stroke my cheek. “You poor, naïve girl. If you had but told me from the beginning. Come. Let us prepare you for your coming out.”

“But I am already eighteen. Should I not have had my coming out weeks or months ago?”

Madame Douler throws her head back and laughs, the tinkling sound dripping onto my skin like rain. “I’m sure one of your stature wouldn’t have had a proper coming out anyhow. Think of this as your introduction to the dark side of society. Now, turn over onto your hands and knees so I can finish my inspection of you.”

Shame licks at my face, flooding my cheeks with a heat that rivals that of hell. Once more, she skims her hands over my body, touching whatever she pleases. A strange liquid gathers in between my thighs, growing as she boldly touches my back entrance.

“I see no marks or blemishes on you. A rare find for someone of your station.”

I bite my tongue, refusing to allow my noble birth to pass from my lips. She needs to think of me as no one—a simple girl of simple means. Rising, I eye the towel, desperately wishing to wrap myself in it, to cover my nakedness.

Walking over, Madame Douler slides her finger under my chin and forces my gaze up to hers. “This isn’t a charity. Despite how lucky I am to have you crawl onto my doorstep, there are bills to be paid. You will accommodate the men, allowing them to do all manner of licentious things to this lithe body of yours. Perform well, and your debts to me for taking you in will be paid off quickly.”

“I will do my best.” Head hanging low, I cover my breasts with my hair, forming a protective curtain around me.

But she doesn’t even allow that. “Your first time will no doubt be gentle. I’ll pass the bids amongst the men that have the least amount of violence in their souls. But after that, you will take your place with the other girls. Listen to them. They will help guide you. The more you fight against it, the harder it will be for you.”

Glancing over at the door, I watch as it opens, revealing the man who found me on the doorstep. A lush gown overflows in his arms, looking like blood spilling out from his body. I gulp, resisting the urge again to hide myself. Besides, more men than him will see it at some point. Seeing as this is better than the alternative, I might as well get used to it.

Off to the side, my old dress burns cheerfully in the fireplace. It reminds me that the person I once was, the daughter of an esteemed earl, one who was set to marry a duke, is now a common whore. I tip my head back, daring to send a prayer up to the heavens.

Hopefully, this will be enough to keep my family safe. As loath as I am to sell my body to men who frequent this establishment, I at least can lie to myself and say it’s for the greater good. Besides, the one who hunts me wouldn’t step foot in a place like this. Would they?

* * *

A strange scent peppers the air as I drift down the stairs and into the fray. It’s musky and yet has a thread of sweetness interspersed. Granted, I’m unable to tell one scent from another, seeing as so many men, a mix of both Alphas and betas, mill about the room.

Their musk invades my nose, filling my head until my vision swims. Until now, the only scents I had to abide were those of my father and my betrothed. I feel so unprepared for the assault on my senses.

My insides clench as I drag the unfamiliar cacophony of aromas through my nose, savoring each one. Just like with perfume, there seem to be brighter notes and darker ones. Between my thighs, I throb and ache, the sensation just as unfamiliar as the overwhelming abundance of males.

I stand there at the base of the steps, unsure of what to do. From my instructions, I’m supposed to allow the men to look upon me, and yet, I find that I’m rooted to the spot, unable to move. Truthfully, I might not have to, seeing as the men themselves seem drawn to me.

They pass by the stairs, each of them regarding me with curious eyes. I shouldn’t like the attention, but as someone not even afforded a proper coming out due to the prearranged marriage, it feels nice to be looked over.

Eyes dart my way, some covered up by masks and others a blank face. I don’t recognize anyone. Relief floods me as I realize I am indeed safe here. I know no one, and so far, no one seems to know me. That is, from the faces I can see, at least. Those that are concealed remain a mystery, a wild card that threatens to squash the joy and transform it back into fear.

Pushing away from the shelter of the railings, I force myself to mingle with these strangers, taking in their curious stares. Though no one physically touches me, their gazes feel heavy on my skin, like a brand that marks my body. My mind is a maelstrom of emotions, most of them vile thoughts cast at myself.

The blatant admiration of the men, while they stare at my body, makes me push aside the horrid thoughts in my mind. The chiding and rebukes drop away as they gaze at me, their eyes following every curve as if they own them. Despite the horrid things I tell myself, I find that I like knowing these men find me attractive.

It’s a dichotomy that threatens to split my mind in two. Pulling out my fan, I wave it at the bare expanse of my chest, desperate to cool the heat that rises from me. All it does is draw attention to my breasts, forced up high with long stays.

More than that, however, it seems to drive my scent through the air, pricking the consciousness of other men. One by one, they turn, their dark gazes following me. It’s overwhelming, and I find I no longer enjoy the attention it brings.

Glancing about, I try to find a place I can lie low and yet still follow the edicts of my new mistress. Yet, most corners are filled with couples—men and women moving about in a rhythm I’ve yet to learn the dance steps for. My eyes widen until I fear they’re about to fall from their sockets.

I stand there, glued to the spot, heat infusing my cheeks as the male’s hips undulate up and down. The woman beneath him lies there, her mouth parted. Strange sounds flit from between her lips, somewhere between a cry and a moan. I’ve never heard anything like it, and doubtful I ever will outside of these walls.

With me so consumed by the scene before me, I don’t even realize someone else has come close until a hand wraps around my throat, squeezing hard enough to steal my breath as I try to scream. The impotent sound squeaks out, not nearly loud enough to be heard over the din in the room.

The stranger moves, forcing my body to follow his as he pulls me into a shadowed alcove. Is this the man who is to buy my virginity? Terror infuses my limbs, turning my brain to mush. I want to fight back, to force my attacker off of me, and yet, I don’t dare do something to get me kicked out of this place.