“As you wish, my lord. If you require anything at all, you need only ask.” Madame withdrew then, leaving her noble clients to their own devices.
Without speaking, Damien led Vanessa across the ante-chamber to an alcove. Pulling aside a velvet curtain on the wall, he exposed a glass viewing window, beyond which was an elegant salon with gilt furnishings. A half-dozen young beauties dressed in translucent gowns sat or reclined artfully in various sensual poses that displayed their charms to advantage.
“This is where clients select their partners and their particular entertainment for the evening,” Damien explained without inflection. “The hour is late. Those are the performers who have not yet been chosen.”
“Is that all they wear?” Vanessa asked in a weak voice.
Damien feigned a smile. “No. They usually change into appropriate costumes for the entertainment. Madame Fouchet excels at satisfying fantasies, and costumes are part of the fantasy. For gentlemen with a preference for young virgins, there are schoolgirls and dairymaids, who, of course, miraculously regain their virginity overnight. For more forbidden fruit, one may chose a governess or nun. If you aspire to the nobility, you can have a duchess or even a queen. Or if your tastes run to the exotic, you can order slave girls or an entire harem, although the expense for a harem is far greater.”
He paused, gauging her reaction. “There may very well be a harem in progress tonight. Would you care to see what delightful entertainment awaits, sweeting?”
Vanessa nodded hesitantly. The destructive recklessness that had driven her here still stirred her blood, yet, frankly, she was glad she was not quite sober.
Damien led her through a door to a long hallway, explaining as he went. “The rooms on this floor are used for group affairs. For more privacy there are a number of bedchambers above.”
He paused at another alcove, this one boasting a much smaller viewing window than the main salon. He hesitated for a moment before moving aside with obvious reluctance. Vanessa could smell the scent of incense as she stepped up to the window.
The exotic scene was of an Eastern palace, with swaths of filmy draperies and whisping smoke. Several nude men reclined on silken cushions like pashas, wearing nothing but turbans. One of them sported a rampant erection as he avidly watched a nude dancing girl whose swaying body glistened with oil and decorative bangles. The other clients were being fed grapes and sweetmeats while their limbs and genitals were stroked with oil.
Vanessa drew back, her face flaming with shock and embarrassment. Whatever had made her think she could go through with this? But she couldn’t back down now, not after forcing Damien to bring her here.
He raised an eyebrow but refrained from comment. Leading her to the next alcove, he glanced through the window, then stepped back so she could look.
“The shipwreck is a popular entertainment here. The clients dress up as pirates and take captive a ship of female passengers.”
The scene was a ship motif lit by flaming torches, Vanessa saw. Several naked women were tied to masts. A man was taking his pleasure with one of them, his face flushed with exertion as his buttocks pumped fiercely between her white thighs.
In another corner three men lay with another bound female, jointly fondling her breasts and mons and thrusting a large ivory phallus between her legs while she writhed in apparent ecstasy.
“Ravishment is a popular fantasy,” Damien observed in a grim voice. “Here a man can have his wicked way without consequence. And adventurous ladies can pay for the pleasure of being one of the captives.”
Vanessa closed her eyes, feeling revulsion and arousal at the same time.
“You should probably learn the techniques of bondage,” Damien added coolly. “Your lover might well enjoy such pleasures.”
She winced, reminded of the future in store for her. When he led her to the final alcove, Vanessa steeled herself for what she might find.
“This one is merely a ballroom scene,” he commented. “Doubtless it began as a masquerade, but the ball guests would not long be content merely to dance and eat.”
The chamber, she saw, was brighter than the previous ones, with light from several chandeliers reflected by walls of gilded mirrors. Costumes and masculine garments lay strewn haphazardly about the floor, while on a dais where the musicians might normally play was a writhing sea of naked bodies. The guests appeared to change partners frequently and without discrimination. Vanessa drew back from the viewing window even more quickly this time, her face paling.
Watching her response, Damien was aware of a vast sense of relief. At least he hadn’t corrupted her so thoroughly that she could view an orgy with equanimity. Even through her mask her shock was apparent.
“Have you seen enough?” Damien asked, his tone challenging.
She nodded but retorted in an arch tone, “I never realized there were so many degrees of debauchery to be found.”
He managed a cynical smile. “Sweeting, you haven’t begun to see debauchery. In London there are hundreds of houses like this. On this street alone you can find any manner of sexual perversions… torture, men enjoying men or even beasts…”
“And you are the prince of debauchery,” she observed.
Damien felt his anger swell again. “Actually my taste is fairly simple. I find I don’t need much more than a willing woman to arouse me adequately… as you well know. Now,” he said, taking her arm, “if you are quite finished, perhaps you will allow me to convey you home.”
“But there is more, is there not?” Vanessa said defiantly, pulling free of his grasp. “Didn’t you say there are private bedchambers abovestairs? Surely I shouldn’t let this edifying opportunity go to waste. Or have you suddenly turned craven?”
His smile this time was icy. “Very well, angel, if you insist… Wait here a moment, and I will make arrangements with Madame Fouchet.”
He left her alone in the alcove, but Vanessa declined to watch the orgy. Although she would have much preferred to end her visit altogether, she refused to allow Damien to dictate to her any longer. In any case, the debauchery abovestairs couldn’t possibly be as shocking as the scandalous scenes she had already witnessed. And it was far better to know what to expect in the event she ever found herself in another pleasure house like this.
A few moments later, Damien returned with a key. “A room has been prepared for us.”
Leading her to the far end of the hall, he escorted her upstairs to another hall and then to one of several bedchambers. Ushering Vanessa inside, Damien shut the door softly behind them.
She glanced curiously around her. The dimly lit room was tastefully opulent, decorated in crimson and black with touches of purple. The large bed that dominated the center of the floor boasted black satin sheets, with a pair of silk sashes tied to each of the four posts. An odd assortment of paraphernalia lay unobtrusively on a side table- smooth ivory and tortoiseshell phalluses, glass balls, riding crops, bottles of oil, and several other wicked-looking items whose use Vanessa could only imagine.
Behind her, Damien leaned back against the door. “Do you want Madame Fouchet to find some strapping young bucks to service you? Doubtless she will have a footman or two who would enjoy performing such a special duty.”
The cool question was insulting, and Vanessa, spurred on by the punch she had drunk, rashly replied in the same taunting tone. “What would you say if I did?”
She saw his jaw harden. “I would say that you might find being fucked by strangers an interesting experience.”
“I might indeed,” she retorted, refusing to let him see how his crudity wounded her.
His own expression showed absolutely no emotion, but there was a glittering flash of anger in his silver eyes that warned her of the danger in teasing a wolf.
Wisely relenting, Vanessa glanced at the outer wall beside him. “Are there spy windows for this room?”