Pulling on a pair of soft, fleecy pale gray pants and a light pink cotton tee, Ashley padded downstairs in her bare feet and headed for the screened porch that overlooked the bay. Byrnes was waiting for her with a glass of red wine. Ashley took it from him and sniffed. "North Fork viticulture," she said, and the butler nodded. She took a sip of the wine, swishing it about her mouth, breathing the fragrance. "Bedell Cellars Main Road Red," she decided, and looked to him for confirmation.

"Very good, Miss Ashley," Byrnes said with a small smile.

"Mrs. B. is cooking me a filet, isn't she?"

"Yes, miss. Shall I tell her to put it on now, or do you wish to wait?" the butler asked.

"Now, please, I'm starving!" Ashley told him. "It's been a long day, and Grandfather's will cannot be broken."

"Mr. Kimbrough was a very careful and thorough man, Miss Ashley," Byrnes observed, and then he hurried off to the kitchen.

Ashley chuckled as she sipped her wine and gazed out over the bay. Byrnes knew her late grandfather probably better than anyone. He had grown up at Kimbrough Hall, as his father had been the previous butler. And he knew all about the clause that had been added to her grandfather's will at Lila's behest. Byrnes had not liked Lila Peabody, but he would have thought it presumptuous to voice an opinion on the matter. But Ashley had heard him speaking to his wife on the subject one day, and the butler had not spoken well of her grandfather's last girlfriend, stating most bluntly that Lila was no lady. Ashley smiled to herself as she remembered the butler's disapproving tone. But, of course, he was right: Lila Peabody had not been a lady, which had amused Ashley's grandfather.

Hearing Byrnes rolling in the dinner cart, Ashley seated herself at the little table that had been set up for her. Byrnes placed to her left a small salad plate of endive dressed lightly with a raspberry vinaigrette. Next came the dinner plate, which held a very rare piece of filet mignon, three small potato puffs, and several slender stalks of asparagus with a splash of Hollandaise sauce. The butler stood in attendance while Ashley ate in silence. When she had finished he cleared the dinner and salad plates from the table, replacing them with a dish of freshly hulled local strawberries dusted with sugar, and a tiny pitcher of thick cream.

"The berries were picked this afternoon, Miss Ashley. The strawberry patch is quite bountiful this year," Byrnes said. "Mrs. B. will be making jam and freezing some whole berries for the winter."

"They're delicious, and still warm with the sun," Ashley noted.

"Are there plans for this evening, Miss Ashley?" the butler wanted to know.

"No, I'll be going up to my quarters after I've finished," Ashley told him.

"If you don't mind my mentioning it, Ghostly and Graybar could use a good run on the beach, Miss Ashley."

"I have been neglecting them, haven't I?" Ashley said. "It won't be dark for a while. I'll take them out. Thanks, Byrnes." Finished with her dinner, she stood up. "Are they in the kitchen with Mrs. B.?"

"Yes, Miss Ashley. Shall I bring them up?" the butler asked her.

"No, I'll go and fetch them myself. I want to thank Mrs. B. for such a wonderful dinner. The potato puffs were marvelous, even if I do try to stay away from those hard carbs," Ashley said with a smile. She hurried down to the kitchen, where she found her two greyhounds sprawled beneath Mrs. B.'s large wooden kitchen table. "The puffs were heaven," she told the cook. "Thanks, even if I shouldn't have them."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. B. said with a smile. She was a small, round woman with fading strawberry blond hair that she wore in a bun. She was a perfect contrast to her tall, thin husband. "You're too thin, Miss Ashley, as it is."

Ashley laughed. "Bless you!" she said. Then she whistled to the two dogs, who roused themselves and ambled over to her. Ashley took their leads from a hook on the wall where they were hung, fastened them about the dogs' collars, and led them out of the house through the kitchen gardens. Once on her private beach she released Ghostly and Graybar, and let them run as she strolled along.

The sun was getting lower and lower on the horizon when she finally decided to turn back. Whistling for the two dogs, she turned about. She wanted to get well settled before she turned on the Channel. They had done some upgrades in the last year. Now you could simply subscribe to it the way you would any other premium channel. And the remote had a terrific new feature on it: You could have two fantasies ready to go if you wanted, and Ashley did.

In both of her fantasies she was a Roman noblewoman, the lady Cordelia, but the fantasies had slightly different themes. In fantasy A the noble Cordelia possessed a Celtic sex slave named Quinn, whom she used and abused to their mutual pleasure. In fantasy B, Cordelia, visiting her properties in northern Gaul, was kidnapped by a northern barbarian named Rurik, who made her his sex slave, to be deliciously used and only sometimes abused.

Ashley debated about which fantasy she wanted tonight, but she was still feeling cranky about her visit to the offices of Johnson and Pietro d'Angelo today. She felt so damned helpless about the situation in which she was caught. She had no choice in the matter: If she didn't find a husband she would lose everything, and she didn't want to lose everything. She liked her comfortable lifestyle. She loved the mechanics of her business. And if she had to take a husband to keep it all, she damned well would.

"A," she said aloud. "Tonight I need to be completely in charge, even if it's only my fantasy." Arriving back at the house she let the dogs back into the kitchen. Their beds, when they weren't sleeping with her, were in an unused pantry. "Good night, boys," she said, patting the silky heads. The kitchen, she noted, was vacant. Everything was in its place, but it was empty. Mrs. B. had already retired to the apartment where she and Byrnes lived above the kitchen wing of the house. Back in the open foyer of the house she encountered her butler locking up.

"Will you be needing me again tonight, Miss Ashley?" he asked politely.

"No, thank you. Run along, Byrnes. I'm heading upstairs myself," Ashley said as she mounted the stairs. "Good night."

"Good night, Miss Ashley," the butler replied.

Ashley entered her bedroom suite just as the clock on the mantel of the fireplace in her bedroom was striking eight o'clock. Her bed was already turned down, something Byrnes did every night without fail, as Ashley didn't feel the need for a private maid. Stripping out of her pants and tee, she climbed naked into her bed. Picking up the remote, she pointed it at the wall above the fireplace mantel and pressed a button. Immediately the wall slid back, revealing a large flat-screen television. Ashley pushed a second button and the television came to life.

"Good evening, and welcome to the Channel, where your fantasies become your reality," a silky voice purred. "Please press button A or button B, followed by the enter button. Thank you, and enjoy your evening." The screen darkened.

Ashley pressed button A, then the enter button. She experienced a slight sensation as if her insides were being drawn out, and then she was there, in the bedchamber of her villa, standing naked before a silver mirror. "Where is Quinn?" she demanded of her slave woman. "Why is he not here? The day has been long and trying. He should be here! Find him and bring him to me immediately!"

The slave woman scurried off. Ashley viewed her naked body in the mirror. Her hair in her fantasy was long and luxurious. It fell down her back to her waistline. In reality she had short hair, styled in a gamine look. Her nipples were rouged to make them more prominent. She could hardly wait to get her hands on Quinn tonight. She needed to punish him as she was being punished.

The male sex slave came into the bedchamber. He stood six feet, five inches tall. He was totally naked, for he was not allowed to cover himself except in cold or wet weather, and only if his mistress permitted it. His body was perfection, with everything in proportion and nicely muscular. He was devoid of any hair except on his head, and it was bright red-gold. His eyes were bright blue, but before his mistress he kept them lowered unless commanded to raise them. His genitalia were huge, even at rest. They were bound in leather lacings. He knelt before her, his head down.


Ashley slowly licked her lips. "You are not ready for me," she said in a hard, deadly voice. She raised his head up with one finger of her hand, but his eyes remained unfocused, not looking at her. "Why are you not ready for me? Have you not been told you must be ready for me at all times, Quinn?"

"Yes, mistress," he replied low.

"Yet you choose to disobey," Ashley murmured. Her hand ruffled through his thick hair. "Oh, it is a bad slave, it is. You are bad, are you not, Quinn?"

"Yes, mistress," he agreed in a toneless voice.

"Then you must be punished, Quinn," Ashley said. "I will not be disobeyed and defied by a slave. Your bottom must be burnished until it glows and your cock is standing tall and ready for me. Prepare yourself at once!"

The tall slave stood and went quickly to a cupboard, then drew out several items. One was a device consisting of a bar set between two sturdy marble columns. The bar was wrapped first in thick lambskin, which was then covered in silk. The bar could be raised or lowered to accommodate height. From either end of the bar hung short gold chains with gilded leather manacles. Quinn rolled the contrivance into the center of the chamber. He adjusted the bar to fit his height. Returning to the cupboard, he brought forth a leather strap some eight inches wide and an inch in thickness, which was attached to an ivory handle. Bringing it to his mistress, he handed it to her, eyes still lowered, tensing when the fingers of her other hand wrapped themselves firmly about his balls.