The dukes pet, p.1
The Duke's Pet, page 1
The Duke’s Pet
By
Lily Harlem
Copyright © 2019 by Stormy Night Publications and Lily Harlem
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Harlem, Lily
The Duke’s Pet
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by Period Images and Shutterstock/S-F
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
More Stormy Night Books by Lily Harlem
Lily Harlem Links
Chapter One
Jemima gripped the handle of her small wicker basket and stared up at the sign over the entrance to The Rose and Thorns. She’d never thought her life would come to this. That she’d have to swallow her pride and become a plaything, an object of pleasure, for men.
But it had. And she couldn’t see any other way to survive. It was this or die.
“It’ll be okay, don’t look so worried,” Emily, her friend of old said. “Mrs. Riley is a fair madam. She’ll make sure you’re fed and have a warm bed.”
Jemima nodded. Her parents had died suddenly of fever nearly a year ago, and it had been a long cold winter up on the Yorkshire moors. She’d been hungry most of it too, the crops having failed during her grief due to flood. And now, destitute and penniless, she had no choice but to enter a world of pleasure for money, of laying her virginal self down and doing what she needed to.
“And the fellas here are okay.” Emily opened the door to the tavern.
A rush of warm beer-laden air and a roar of deep male voices spilled out. A ruddy-cheeked man barged past them, holding his gut. He tipped forward, gripping the wall, and vomited on the cobbled street.
Jemima recoiled.
“Well, mostly they’re okay.” Emily slipped her arm around Jemima’s waist. “Come on, this way.”
They entered the throng of people. The floor was spread with sawdust and candlelight threw amber shadows over lusty, laughing male faces. Behind the bar girls served drinks, the necklines of their dresses low, their ample breasts spilling over the top, one girl exposing the dark arcs of her nipples.
“We’ll go straight upstairs,” Emily said, her grip tightening on Jemima and urging her forward. “Don’t make eye contact with anyone, not yet.”
Jemima’s heart rate soared and her mouth dried as they pushed forward. The heat of bodies wrapped around her and seemed to fill her nose, her lungs, and her blood.
She blinked rapidly as they walked through a puff of pipe smoke, then she gasped when a hard smack landed on her rump.
“Hey.” Emily turned and jabbed her finger at the culprit. “This one ain’t for sale.”
“Well, she should be.” He leered forward, showing off the fact he had no top teeth.
This is a terrible idea.
Jemima pressed closer to Emily as they continued.
“Alright, Em?” a tall bearded man said, folding his arms and looking down at them.
“Aye, thanks, we’re fine, Will, just heading to see Madam.”
He nodded and his gaze slipped to Jemima.
“She’s in her room. You got a fresh one, eh?”
“I have, and she’ll need you to look out for her.” Emily turned to Jemima. “Will is employed by Madam, to make sure we don’t run into any trouble and we always get paid.”
“I’m here if you need me, all you got to do is holler.” Will’s wide lips were flattened. It seemed he took his job seriously, which was something at least.
“Hey, dark hair, my sweet.” A man staggered toward them, beer sloshing from his tankard. He wore a lopsided grin and his stained shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel.
“Arnold.” Emily turned to him. “You’re looking fine tonight.”
“So are you.” He set his hand on Emily’s shoulder, closed his eyes and pouted.
Emily kissed him briefly.
Jemima didn’t know how she could. The man was a drunken, ugly old leech.
This isn’t for me.
I have to get out of here.
“I will return soon,” Emily said, tapping Arnold’s head as though he were a pet. “I have to take my friend upstairs, and then I’m all yours.”
“Good.” He burped. “Don’t be long. I have a hard dick and hard coins for you.” He laughed, swaying as he did so.
“I’ll be back very soon.”
Turning, Emily ushered Jemima through a doorway Will had pulled open at the end of the bar.
“You’re going to be intimate with him, that old man?” Jemima said.
“In a fashion.”
“What do you mean?”
Emily stopped. The base of the stairwell was quiet in comparison with the frenetic bar. “You saw how drunk he was.”
“Yes, I did.”
“And you know about drunk men and their cocks, right?”
“Er, no.” Jemima frowned. What was her friend talking about?
“Oh, Jemima, you really are so innocent.” She shook her head. “I should never have offered to introduce you to Madam.”
“No, don’t say that. I’m desperate, you know I am.”
“But you will not be able to bring yourself to... oh, never mind.”
“Tell me.” Jemima clenched her jaw. “Tell me what I need to know.”
“Okay, the drunker they are, the less their cocks work. Their desire is stoked by ale but they can’t perform. They’re the ones to go for, the really drunk ones.”
“Go on.”
“Arnold comes in every Saturday night looking for me. I wait until he’s inebriated, happy, and lustful, then take him upstairs. It’s all over in seconds, a quick grope, sometimes an attempt at sex, and then I get paid. He can’t remember any of it so there’s no arguing. Easy as taking money from a bairn.”
“Easy as taking money from a bairn.” Jemima tried to picture the scene with herself in it.
A rise of nausea twisted in her guts. The thought of being groped and pawed by Arnold or any man like him was sickening.
And what would my poor parents think. God rest their souls.
“You’ll soon learn the easiest ways to make money.” Emily gestured up the stairs. “And once you’ve done it a few times, it becomes second nature. Come on.”
Each step Jemima climbed released a new spurt of adrenaline into her system. Being cold and hungry was beginning to feel like the better option. She was sure she’d be unable to hide her revulsion with one of the patrons of The Rose and Thorns. Likely they’d complain and she’d lose her job and be sent packing. She should perhaps just leave now, while she still had her dignity, and could step into church without shame.
“Come on,” Emily said. “I have work to do tonight. Collecting you from the high street has used up half of my earning time.”
“I’m sorry, but thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Apology not necessary, I’ve known you since we were wee lasses and a friend in need is a friend indeed and all that.”
Jemima managed a weak smile. She’d managed to catch a lift on a cart carrying hay from the Dales to York. It had been a long bumpy journey but at least the rain had held off. The farmer had been kind, too, and given her an apple. It was all she’d eaten that day.
“This way.” Emily bounded off, holding her skirts up as she went.
They reached the top of the stairs. A long corridor, the walls misshapen as the structure had shifted over time, stretched before them. The paint-chipped doors were all closed and a strange cacophony of groans, cries, and grunts slipped beneath them.
Emily smiled. “It’s a busy night. Madam will be in a good mood.”
As they walked past the first door, Jemima stared at it. Soon she would be in that room, or one like it, with a fat drunk ape yanking at her clothes, drooling on her.
“I can’t do this.” She stopped.
“Sure you can.” Emily turned. “Take no notice of what I said earlier, it’ll be fine. You’ll see.” She jerked her head upward. “And you can’t sleep under the stars, not here in York, you’ll get your throat slit.”
Jemima trembled.
“This is the best place for you now, and you’ve got me to watch out for you. Come on.”
It really did seem her fate had been decided. If she wanted to live—and she really did—Jemima would have to become a scarlet lady, a whore, a woman of the night.
God forgive me.
The door to the end room was ajar. The stench of perfume leaked into the air around it, as did tobacco smoke.
&nb
“But I don’t. This is the best I have.” She gestured to the plain blue woolen dress she’d traveled in. There were still stalks of hay sticking to it and a stain sat over the slight rise of her right breast.
Emily frowned. “I’ll lend you a dress, you’re the same size as me... well, you’re a bit thinner... but that will soon change now you’re here and you’ll be having a good meal each day.”
A good meal every day. Jemima could hardly imagine what that would be like. She’d been so hungry for so long.
“Who is there?” a voice called.
“We should go and introduce you,” Emily said.
Jemima summoned her courage. This was it, the point of no return. Once she’d accepted her new role in life, her course would be chosen.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
Perhaps it would be hell on Earth.
“Ah, Emily, who do you have here?”
“This is a dear old friend who is wishing to join your esteemed establishment, Madam.”
“Ah, I see.”
Madam was a rotund woman with a portly belly and jowls. She had a huge mole on her left cheek, and even in the low lamplight it was easy to see a long black hair grew from it.
Wearing a knitted black cardigan over a green dress, she was smoking and had a glass of what appeared to be sherry in her hand.
The room was small and crammed full of furniture. A bed on a slight tilt, as though one leg was struggling to take the strain. A wooden dressing table littered with toiletries, curtains that hadn’t been pulled completely and let the light of an oil lamp in. A fireplace was squeezed into a corner, the hot embers warming a black pot, which steamed gently.
“How old are you?” Madam directed at Jemima.
“Twenty-one, Madam.”
“You don’t look it.” She peered forward.
“She’s been down on her luck. Lost both parents summer gone and has been struggling to run their arable farm.”
“Hard times indeed.” Madam nodded. There was a softness in her eyes.
Jemima managed a weak smile. “It has been a long winter but now I have come to York to work.”
“As a woman of pleasure at The Rose and Thorns?”
Jemima paused, then after a deep breath, said, “Yes.”
“And what experience do you have?”
“She don’t have much,” Emily said quickly. “But she’s a fast learner, I can tell you that. She’s sharp, and a fast talker, she has men sending her love notes, offers of proposal.”
Jemima opened her mouth to speak. No such thing had ever happened to her.
Emily jabbed her in the ribs.
She closed her mouth.
“Mmm, she’s a bit on the skinny side. I’ve seen rats with more meat on them.”
“She admitted it’s been a hard winter.” Emily cupped Jemima’s right breast.
Jemima gasped, shocked by the sudden invasion of her personal space.
“And when she’s had a few good meals, these will fill out, you mark my words.” Emily squeezed. “She’s got a good pair, they just need feeding up.” She laughed.
So did Madam. “I can see that she’s in need, and if you can vouch for her then a week’s trial can begin. A trial, mind. I’m not paying for her to learn, she can do that at her own expense.”
“Of course I’ll vouch for her.” Emily grinned. “You won’t be disappointed.”
“She can start tonight. There’s a tub there.” She pointed to a tin bath beside the fire. “Bathe and change. I run a classy establishment, I like my girls well presented.”
“Can I get her some food from the kitchen?” Emily said. “The wee lass hasn’t had anything to eat today.”
“Aye, we don’t want her fainting and being taken advantage of. Some clients are rotters, they’ll take what they want then skip off without paying what I’m owed.” Madam waggled a finger at Jemima. A huge red ring sat on it. “You speak to Will, let him know you’re new.”
“We’ve seen him already, but I can show Jemima the ropes.”
“I know you can, you’re a good girl.” Madam sat back and sipped her drink. “Now chop, chop, let’s get on with this night’s work. Time is ticking on and time is money.”
Chapter Two
Jemima felt bereft as Emily turned to leave the room—bereft and scared and out of her depth as she embarked on this new path.
But then a sudden commotion in the corridor had Emily backing up. A man, suited and booted with a white cravat and holding an envelope strode in.
“And who are you?” Madam said, puffing up her chest.
“Special envoy to the Duke of Hillcrest Court.”
Jemima looked at Emily, who’d slunk back in, clearly curious.
Emily downturned her mouth and shrugged.
Hillcrest Court was an estate to the west of York with imposing stone walls all around its land and an owner who was rarely seen.
“The Duke of Hillcrest,” Madam said. “Whatever does he want with my establishment?”
“He has sent a sealed letter, to be opened by you, madam of The Rose and Thorns.”
“This is most unusual.” She held out her hand. “Let me see.”
He stepped farther in, glanced at Jemima then handed a folded sheet of paper with a red stamped seal to Madam.
Madam opened it.
As her eyes scanned the words, Jemima felt a tug of jealousy. Madam could read. It was something she longed to be able to do. Unable to spare her from the farm, her parents had kept her at home most school days. There’d been work to do, food to put on the table.
“Well, well, well, there’s a turn up for the books.” Madam shook her head and blew out a breath.
“What is it?” Emily asked.
“He wants a woman to—”
The deliveryman cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other. He held up his palm.
“Whatever is the matter with you?” Madam directed at him.
“Perhaps I should wait outside. Letter was sealed for a reason. The duke doesn’t want gossip, he was quite specific about that so the less I know, the less I can reveal.”
Emily laughed and stepped closer to him. She ran her hand over his collar. “Why, you are a delicate soul.”
He stepped back. “No, miss, I just take my job and my reputation seriously.”
“Very well, wait outside. Though you can hardly ‘un-know’ that the duke has had dealings with a brothel now, can you.”
“Sadly, that is true.” He turned and left, shutting the door behind himself.
“He’s a funny one.” Emily shook her head.
“Not half as funny as this letter.” Madam rubbed her chin as she reread it.
“He wants a woman to do what?” Emily asked after a few moments. “That’s what you started saying.”
“He’s quite specific.” She flapped the letter. “I’ll read it right out.”
“Okay.” Emily leaned against the wall and glanced at Jemima.
Jemima got the impression this was all most unusual and Emily was enjoying the drama.
“Dear Madam. Forgive me for contacting you this way but it is some time since I have left the grounds of Hillcrest, five years in fact, since the death of my dear wife. I have reached the conclusion now, however, that I would like to pay for female company.”
“Why does he have to pay for it?” Emily said. “He’s rich; surely women are falling over themselves to marry him.”
“If he doesn’t leave his estate he won’t meet them,” Jemima offered.
Emily nodded. “True.”
“And if they did meet him they might find his desires a little... odd.” Madam frowned.
“Now I’m really curious,” Emily said, raising her eyebrows.
“I’ll go on then.” Madam lifted the letter again. “Naturally when I came to this decision to pay for a woman your establishment came to mind, having visited once, as a younger man.”
“He came here? To The Rose and Thorns,” Emily exclaimed.
“Yes,” Madam chuckled. “He did, once. He was still wet behind the ears, and with a toffee-nosed friend. If I recall it was just before his wedding and he was bamboozled by his friend into taking a woman to bed. He had room six, at the end, if my memory serves me correct.”
“He took a woman to bed so he knew what to do on his wedding night,” Jemima said.
