Prologue: Stunel
“Madam. Boriji requests a private audience.”
Mins announced it in his neat, crisp black butler uniform. His sharply pressed white shirt always gave off a fresh impression.
Anika waved a hand, dismissing Uriel, who had been grooming her abundant blonde hair. Once Uriel's quiet footsteps vanished beyond the door, Mins bowed his head and withdrew.
A moment later, the door opened, and Boriji entered, her lush brown hair artfully plaited. She curtsied to Anika, one foot drawn back, lifting the hem of her dress just so in perfect accordance with etiquette. Leaving her in Yena's care for a month had polished her manners nicely.
Anika quickly scanned Boriji from head to toe. Her delicate, plump cheeks bore a pure, innocent apricot blush that lent her an air of soft submissiveness. A light powder that brightened her natural skin tone without whitening it made her doe-like brown eyes appear even larger, while her rosy, ripe-peach-scented pink lips perfectly recreated the fresh allure of a second daughter from some obscure noble house on the frontier—just as Viscount Lukremore had specified.
The viscount had insisted on a second daughter. The eldest was too somber and dull, lacking spark, while the youngest's innate perkiness was irritating. It was a surprisingly refined request from a man who looked like a gold-painted pig. Who knew—perhaps those booze-sodden little peep-hole eyes had once held the image of a first love he could never possess. Men never forgot their first, after all.
“Well? What is it, Boriji?”
Boriji dipped her smooth forehead slightly at Anika's question.
“Tonight...”
“Yes. Tonight. The night you receive Lord Valentis.”
Boriji's delicate brows furrowed in an instant.
“Couldn't it be someone else? Lord Heyris or Lord Rowen...”
Anika gave a wry smile. Foolish girl. Had she already forgotten the contract from a month ago in Lily Hall? Old Heyris, a Stunel regular with a membership token, was contracted to Liona, and the gaunt Rowen had already placed his order.
“Undress.”
“Pardon?”
Boriji's doe-like brown eyes widened. Meeting Anika's icy gaze, she lowered her head.
“Boriji.”
At the chill in Anika's voice, Boriji began to disrobe with obvious reluctance. Once she shed the gem-studded dress—fit for a wealthy noble lady—and the sheer chemise beneath, a bustier laced with pearlescent sheen came into view below her slender collarbones. Her white, pristine, full breasts formed a deep cleft between the cups, tracing luscious curves. Sheer chiffon from the shoulder straps to the waistline had been meticulously sewn on, accentuating the swell from her bosom down to the delicate taper of her waist and the flare above her hips, heightening her feminine allure.
Right below the bustier, pearl-beaded panties featured a large white chiffon ribbon at the center. The girlish ribbon clashed with the bustier's sensuality, but there was no helping it—Viscount Lukremore's order. He'd demanded a slit in the center of pure white lace panties, topped with a big ribbon.
At Anika's nod, Boriji removed the bustier. Her confined, voluptuous breasts spilled free, jiggling softly. Upon the moist, firm, rounded swells stood shy pink nipples, pert and erect. They had to be that ethereal cosmos-pink of autumn—the special stipulation noted in the contract, for which Viscount Lukremore had paid an extra 200 gold. That made the color of Boriji's nipples critical tonight. Yena had struggled mightily to achieve it. Once the contract closed, she'd come complaining to Anika that it was impossible—Boriji's dried-apricot brown nipples couldn't be turned pure pink. But she'd succeeded in the end.
“Use perfume number six, the blend of poppy and rose. Yena gave it to you, yes?”
Boriji nodded faintly. At seventeen, facing her first night with Viscount Lukremore, she must be tense. She'd assisted other girls in the inner chambers briefly, but watching and doing were worlds apart. It was unfortunate her first was an ugly middle-aged pig, but he'd paid 2,200 gold for her.
Anika curled her lips toward Boriji. A year ago, Boriji had arrived holding her own father's hand, knocking at Stunel's gates. The wrinkled man, hearing of a generous price for his pretty-faced girl, had haggled fiercely, stressing she was a virgin youngest daughter. With the initial 80 gold plus Anika's generous bonus making 100, he'd grinned ear-to-ear and left her—skinny as a rail, spine bones poking through her back—inside the entrance.
“Tonight, when Lord Valentis arrives, you'll be bound to the bedposts. Yena will tie you securely, so to avoid chafing your wrists on the rough ropes, stay still. You'll start bound, but he values conquest. So refuse all his demands at first. You've seen the other girls; think of it as acting. Tonight, you're not Boriji—you're a baron's second daughter, kidnapped by Valentis at a ball after he fell for you at first sight. As a lady, you can't yield easily. Fight desperately for your chastity and family honor. But don't refuse too much. Yield bit by bit before his eyes change. You're perceptive; you get it?”
Spotting the shift in those piggish eyes would take high skill, but that was Boriji's burden.
Her face paling, Boriji's lips trembled.
“The other sisters...”
Anika shook her head. With the viscount's habits, a second night might allow company, but the first was always solo. Others would ease the ordeal, but no choice.
“Lord Valentis wants you alone tonight. No other girls will set foot in that room. And you know it's the Winter Chamber, right?”
At the words Winter Chamber, Boriji shuddered in fear. Stunel's northernmost suite boasted two bedrooms, a large parlor, and a bath. One bedroom brimmed with wooden frames for every position and pleasure tools. Perfectly soundproof, it was where Boriji would be trapped with the piggish viscount. For a moment, she looked unfit for it, so Anika stepped forward and picked up the fallen bustier from the floor.
“Your contract is one year from tonight. The more you satisfy him, the easier your days. You're a smart girl; you know what I mean.”
Anika rang the bell on the table twice. Mins opened the door, with Stunel's sub-madam Yena standing behind him, weary-faced.
Anika nodded at Yena. “Take her and prepare. The guests will arrive soon.”
Viscount Lukremore wasn't a member but a regular. Including Boriji, his third contract. Three times over six months, he'd chosen virgins in Lily Hall, listing perverse stipulations. His flabby body couldn't satisfy the lusts crammed in his head, so he always paid extra for the Winter Chamber over standard rooms. He'd torment contracted girls with tools just shy of death for months until bored, then move on. It took the discarded ones ages to recover mentally and physically. Two were in the infirmary now.
Boriji, resident a year, surely knew the hushed horrors of Lukremore whispered among the girls. To shake off the image of her paper-white face and trembling shoulders as she gathered her clothes and left, Anika rang again.
“Bring Lapsang tea. Brew it strong.”
Mins bowed and closed the door softly.
Anika straightened, gazing out the window. From Stunel's ramparts overlooking Eliyum, the west continent's grandest city, two black carriages approached along the long hill to the gates. Soon, a line would form. Anika smiled languidly at her reflection's impassive face, red lips stretching wide.
Stunel's madam had guests to greet. The black night of cascading golden coins would continue tonight as always.