"Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot,"
the Marquis sang, smiling and evidently in high spirits as he sprinkled
some dry powder on his finished vignette. "Prete-moi ta plume," he
snickered, stuffing the used quill in an apple, "Pour ecrire un mot," he
finished, holding up the stack of parchments. He kissed it and bounded
off his chair, skidding toward the door as he anticipated Madelaine's arrival.
The dear lass had impeccable timing.
Not a few minutes later he heard her footfalls approach his door, and he
leaned on the jamb with a self-satisfied grin. When the latch slid
open, her sweet voice wafted inside his cell. "Your linens please."
De Sade appeared suddenly at the
latch, startling the laundry lass. "So formal today, my coquette,"
he remarked, tilting his head as he appraised her. His eyes suddenly
darkened. "You're flushed ... and not of the good kind. Come,
come," he lilted. "Use your key, child. Let me inspect you
closer," he grinned lasciviously and left the door.
It took more time than he expected
for Madelaine to unlock the door and stumble into his cell. He turned
to find her glancing anxiously down the corridor. "What has you so
a-flutter, dearest?" De Sade asked, enjoying the way she squirmed under
his gaze.
"I was punished," she whispered,
a shamed look in her eyes as she closed the door behind her.
De Sade's pupils dilated at this.
"Punished?" he inquired with interest.
"For seeing you ... the Abbe ...
he must have said something to Doctor Royer-Collard about my visits to
your cell ... he had me brought to his ... chambers ..." Her eyes
lowered and she held her shawl tightly against her.
His vignette now forgotten, the Marquis
poured some wine for Madelaine and offered the glass to her. "I had
no idea the good Doctor had it in him," De Sade grinned.
"How insensitive!" she remarked with
indignitation.
"Nonsense," De Sade waved it off
and led her to his reclining couch. "Tell me, how were you punished,
dear one?"
"The flog, Marquis," Madelaine said
with an irritating flourish. "Repeatedly, on my back. I've
not had the chance to visit the nurse," she said, her eyes watering at
the thought. She took a swallow of the wine and put it aside with
a quivering hand.
De Sade approached her and smiled,
slipping the shawl from her tight fingers and throwing it unceremoniously
on the couch. He took her by the shoulders and swiveled her, inspecting
her back. He could see through her bodice the areas where the flog
had broken through flesh. Her corset was spotted with crimson.
"This can't be very comfortable," he mused, his fingers playing with the
threadings of her bodice.
"Mother fastened it as loosely as
she could," Madelaine said, her head bowed as she looked blankly at the
couch.
"Not quite fastidious, is she?" he
said, his fingers tightening through the cords and squeezing the corset.
Madelaine went rigid under him and pulled back with a look of horror.
The Marquis snickered good-naturedly. "Though a blind woman can't
be blamed."
"You appall me, Marquis," Madelaine
said tight-lipped before she made her way toward the door. De Sade
grabbed her elbow and offered her an oily smile as he led her back toward
him.
"Don't be so flustered, my chérie.
I was only jesting. Here, come to my bed, the curtains will cloak
you from prying eyes and I can better examine your wounds."
"I have no desire to have you ogle
me without my clothes, Marquis!"
"Come now," De Sade berated.
"Don't you suppose that in my vast quest for knowledge, I'd have acquired
a hint of medical expertise?" he asked, waving his hand elegantly at the
rows of books on the human anatomy.
She hesitated. "I question
your motives, Marquis, not your expertise."
"If it makes you feel any better,
dearest, you yourself has stated that you could easily overwhelm me should
a struggle ensue."
This loosened her resolve, and Madelaine
followed the Marquis into the makeshift bedroom where he sat her behind
the silk curtains of his bed. "Besides," he added. "You've
nothing to show me that I've not seen before," he grinned.
"Mind your tongue, Marquis," Madelaine
scolded as she allowed him to unclasp her bodice. He parted her hair
gently from the nape of her neck as he removed the offending clothing,
revealing the canvas of agony on her back.
De Sade looked at her, the welts
that screamed across the ivory of her flesh, and he could not resist touching
them. She hissed under his ministrations, ignorant of the sharp grin
that suddenly pulled at his lips. His fingers traced the welts, from
top to bottom, and he pressed against them with his fingertips ... hard.
"Marquis!" she gasped in agony.
"This is your so-called expertise?"
De Sade tilted his head to whisper
in her ear. "Tell me what you felt when you were flogged, Madelaine
..."
"Shamed! Stripped of my clothings
for the doctor's prying eyes!"
The Marquis' eyebrow lifted in interest.
"I cannot help but notice that you speak first of your shame at your nudity
and not of the pain itself. Did you enjoy the flogging itself then?"
The flat of his palms circled her back and rubbed down. The temptation
of this flesh before him had his body aroused and his senses fired.
The way Madelaine arched her spine under him, it was so deliciously enticing.
"The pain ..." she whispered.
"It is part of the shame, is it not?" Her voice had taken on a new
edge that De Sade appreciated.
"Entirely two different entities,
my cherie. Perhaps you mistake the two because you do not wish to
admit that you actually enjoyed the fine edge between pleasure and pain,
hmm? I only mourn the fact Doctor Royer-Collard had the fancy of
introducing you to this concept. Perhaps under my hands, you would
not be so distracted by shame ..."
Madelaine grabbed his bedsheets and
covered herself. "This is not one of your stories, Marquis.
If you have nothing relevant or useful to do, then give me leave."
De Sade held up his palms in innocence.
"I merely banter, my dear. Be quiet and still so that I may see what
can be done." Madelaine paused, though slowly turned and exposed
herself once more.
"You realise what torture you offer
*me*, Madelaine?" he said raucously, attempting at best to look at her
wounds objectively.
"All deserving, I'm sure," Madelaine
said coldly, her hands crossed at her breasts.
"You wound me, coquette." A
few moments of silence passed between them before De Sade remarked, "One
of these welts will need suturing. The rest may heal properly without
care, but this one has been particularly savagely administered," he said,
unable to keep the note of admiration for Royer-Collard from his tone.
The man certainly had an arm on him.
"Then I must see the nurse after
all," Madelaine said discontentedly.
"You must ... unless you would consider
me as your nurse," he smiled.
Madelaine glanced over her shoulder.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I've dressed wounds before," he
said. "If you permit me, I will mind yours. I need only a needle,
a candle and thread."
"I shudder to think what experience
has taught you *that* skill, Marquis, but if you can do this, then please."
It only took a handful of minutes
for the Marquis to return to her, items in hand and needle between his
lips. "I've no anasthetics for you, my dear, nor brandywine to soothe
the pain, so you are free to use my shoulder as I do this." He loosened
his pettycoat and turned her so that she faced him. He lulled her
face toward the bare flesh at his shoulder and fired the needle in the
flame of the candle.
Madelaine waited, blinking, her senses
heightened by the anticipation of pain. De Sade's own face mirrored
peculiar glee as he worked. Once the needle was properly heated,
he began to suture the wound.
The first pass did not affect the
young woman, but the second had her sinking her teeth deeply into his flesh.
His eyes rolled back for a moment at the sensation and he had to concentrate
on resuming, lest he completely forgot himself. Her moans and stifled
cries roused his body, and his hips lifted subtly against her thighs, glad
that the pain distracted her from his gyrations.
He took his time to suture the wound,
and even surpassed the injury to extend the moment, this delicious lull
in reality as Madelaine suckled and bit into his bruised shoulder, his
erection screaming for a release he knew would come only after her departure.
"Finished," he panted, throwing the
needle away. Bemused, he noticed that she was not retreating.
His eyes wide in revelation, he felt her teeth scrape against the flesh
at his shoulder, then toward his throat. "Madelaine?" he whispered.
"Feel this, Marquis," she rasped,
shoving his hand under her skirts. He gasped faintly at the evidence
of her own arousal. She pulled back to look at him, her eyelids lowered
in lust. "You were right, after all ... under your hands, it is entirely
different," she whispered, suddenly crushing her mouth against his.
In the darkness of the curtained
bed, the Marquis rejoiced at his sudden turn of luck and whispered, "Oh
my dearest Madelaine ... I've such lessons to teach you ..."
LA FIN
