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child," the young man said, his voice mock gruff, his cadence that of the confessional. "Cast your clothing away so I may see you as God intended."

"Naked, Your Worship?" Isabelle whispered, a sultry resonance to her voice.

"As Magdalene was before her Lord."

"Are you my Lord, Your Holiness?"

"In all things, my dear."

The young priest's erection lifted the soft black silk of his underwear into peaked prominence, an attraction Isabelle couldn't resist. She paused in the process of untying the ribbons of her pale blue mousseline-de-soie reception dress to unbutton the waistband of his undergarment so his arousal was free.

"I like to see it," she murmured, "lift its impatient head." She stroked the rampant crest of his erection and the young priest shut his eyes momentarily against his shuddering desire.

"No more," he said short seconds later, having composed himself, his hand deliberately setting Isabelle's stroking fingers aside, "until you expose your nakedness to me."

"Must I?" she said in feigned apprehension, even as her fin-gers resumed undoing the bows holding her flowing silk gown together.

How much had he paid for that reception gown? the Duc wondered, the magnificence of its fabric and lacework stunning tribute to Doucet's sense of luxury. Isabelle's "at home" gown, loose-fitting and worn without the discomfort of corsets and stays, incorporated dozens of yards of euchre lace and embroidered diaphanous mousseline. He would have to stop and order some as beautiful for Daisy before he left tomorrow.

Isabelle's gown slid to the carpet in a soft whisper of silk a moment later, and the Duc saw his wife's body for the first time in nearly two decades. Isabelle had always prided herself on maintaining her weight by playing tennis every day, and it showed. She'd changed very little.

Standing now before the fair-haired priest, her blonde hair loose on her shoulders, her back to the door, she was waiting apparently for the next procedure in a game seemingly familiar to its players.

"Have you been good, my dear, and not committed any sins?"

"No, Your Worship."

"You have sinned?"

"I have lusted, Your Worship."

"You must be punished, my dear, you realize."

"I know."

"Put your hands behind your back and bend forward, my dear," the young man intoned with mock sternness, "so I can administer justice."

She did so willingly, and the priest gazed at her for some moments as she bowed before him, her breasts suspended within reach. Leaning forward leisurely, he grasped them both in his hands, pulling her closer until her nipples, squeezed into prominence by the pressure of his fingers, were within inches of his mouth.

"I'm doing this for your own good, you know," he murmured, seeming to wait for an answer.

"Yes, sir," Isabelle whispered on cue.

And he took one jewel-hard nipple into his mouth and suckled it with such force, the Duc heard Isabelle gasp loudly enough to carry the distance to his position by the door. Despite the priest's roughness, which he democratically portioned out to each breast, Isabelle seemed to be enjoying the sensations, for her hips began moving in a rhythm of arousal.

After some time, the young man asked, "Are you cleansed of your lustful thoughts now, my dear?"

"Not completely, Your Holiness."

"Let me see." He released her breasts, leaving behind vivid red fingermarks where he'd savagely grasped her flesh, and his hands moved to the juncture of her thighs. Without comment or hesitation or preliminaries, he roughly slid two fingers deep inside Isabelle. Isabelle moaned in luxurious response, her hips moving to capture the full extent of the young man's manipulation. How far should he let them go? the Duc wondered, and then decided it would be useful for legal reasons to have the young man's sperm on Isabelle's thighs.

He would wait for their divine climax… unless, of course, this game was devised for saintly penitents who stopped just short of consummation—for conscience's sake. Since he had no religious neurosis or perversions to call on for counsel or guidance…

He would have to wait and see.

Did Isabelle reach orgasm? he wondered.

She did, he saw a moment later, as she sensationally expired from the priest's harsh manipulation. She fell in a delicate swoon, her head in the young priest's lap.

He could immediately see where the diversion was leading next and he hoped Charbeau was taking his time getting back to Montrose, or the staff was going to be sent out soon in search of him. They wouldn't dare come into this room, though, unless invited, so he was safe. But the alarm would be sounded in the rest of the hotel.

Perhaps that would be an asset after all. A full complement of servants in the corridors ready for his call would be useful.

The young man initiated the next activity in their divine drama of carnal transgression. Lifting Isabelle's head from his lap, he bent to kiss her gently on the forehead, his tenderness startling contrast to his former domination. "You have made progress, my dear, in controlling your lustful thoughts. You didn't cry out at your climax. I commend your restraint." He kissed her again, his fingers holding her chin tilted upward so their eyes met, their lips joining this time in a long heated caress.

"Thank you, Your Worship," Isabelle murmured, when he freed her from his grasp. "Will I be rewarded now for my restraint?" Kneeling at his feet, she arched her back so her breasts jutted upward, offering herself to him.

"Naughty girl," he chastised, moving his hands from the curve of her shoulders to her upthrust breasts. "Are you trying to tempt me into your sinful ways?" Taking her nipples between his thumb and forefinger he squeezed and lifted, forcing her to rise higher until their faces were almost touching. "Are you?" He squeezed harder.

"No, I would never try to tempt you, Your Worship," she murmured, smothering a small moan, her mouth almost pressed to his. "I'm your handmaiden only…" she whispered, "to serve you in all things."

"Will you bathe me?" He held her still in his steely grasp, forcing her breasts prominently high.

She nodded.

"And bring me my food?"

"Yes, my

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