A Close Shave On Capri

Originally, this episode was a teaser for ‘Mirror Hours’ – a Lady Victoria Howard Adventure. We thought you’d like to read it. You can read all of Mirror Hours Book 1 for free on Inkitt.

To read books 2,3 and 4, go to www.victoriahoward.com where you’ll find more of Lady Victoria’s romantic adventures waiting for you.

A Close Shave on Capri

“People die for Madame Bellavia’s creations,” he whispered in her ear. She felt the lust on his breath. With a feather-light touch he traced the outline of her ear, trailing his finger delicately down her neck until he reached her pulse point. His moist, full lips barely made contact with her skin, but still she gasped, feeling her hips try to rise in response, and her clit pulsed with desire. The scent of her wetness rose, as it dripped between her legs, pooling around the curves of her buttocks. Her arousal was so intense that she wanted to scream. He subtly tightened the soft yet unbelievably strong silk ropes that he’d bound her with, bringing her to the point where agony became ecstasy.

Victoria’s desire for adventure had brought her to this cliff-top villa overlooking the Bay of Naples. For some time she’d wanted to visit the Isle of Capri, the island beloved by Roman emperors and a place that had been referred to as a luxury destination for two millennia. He’d sent her an invitation to her workplace; a trendy London gallery where she curated the modern art collections of wealthy collectors worldwide. George Shervashidze’s collection was legendary, so she’d accepted his invite, even though she’d only had a brief conversation with him after a Sotheby’s auction. Georgina Laing-Hughes, a Sotheby’s auctioneer had introduced them, and Victoria had noticed that despite his enormous wealth, he’d been ever so slightly impressed by her title, although she rarely used it. However, at Sotheby’s and elsewhere in the art world it had its uses.

She’d come for his art, and because he intrigued her professionally: her plans had not included being bound to a marble table, nor the cutthroat razor that he was sharpening on an antique leather strop. “I must prepare you for Madame Bellavia.” He exuded an air of calm control. At this moment she couldn’t say she felt the same.

Victoria tensed. What did he intend to do with the razor? He had turned away from her and she studied his back as he prepared something at the table behind him. She couldn’t see what it was. All she could do was wait.

Turning, he approached the table carrying what appeared to be a bone china shaving mug and shaving brush. She could just about make out the logo of Truefitt & Hill, one of London’s premier gentleman barbers. She knew it because Jonathan used their products. For a very brief moment she wondered what her on-off lover would say if he could see her now.

George loosened the silk bonds around her thighs and caressed the soft inner skin, parting them gently at the same time. Victoria held her breath. She had no objection to the idea of removing her pubic hair, but not with a cut throat razor. It was too dangerous. What if his hand slipped?

He laid the opened razor with its mother of pearl handle on the marble table. Reaching back, he produced a small, neatly folded towel and placing one of his large hands between her legs, slipped the hand under so that he could raise her bottom and place the towel under her cheeks. It felt so soft compared to the hardness of the marble. Lightly he brushed his hand along her sex and over her mound, weaving his fingers into the triangle of chestnut curls that were just a shade lighter than those on her head.

“Touch me!” she begged, hoping he would part the swollen lips of her sex and play with her pulsing clitoris.

“Not yet my dear, be patient.” He lifted the cup and brush, covering it in shaving soap. Its masculine scent reminded her of meeting her husband Toby at Trumper’s in Jermyn Street; his preferred barbershop, and a badge of his success, as he saw it.

Delicately he brushed the soap onto her bush. Its cool wetness was a pleasurable contrast to the hot, sticky wetness between her legs. He parted her legs a little wider and slid the brush between them. She closed her eyes, although she felt him watching her face as he used firm but gentle strokes to apply the lather. The tip of the brush touched her clit; it felt divine. More, she wanted to whisper, but was afraid if she did, he would stop.

Just as she felt she would explode, he stopped abruptly and lifted the razor. She tensed, waiting for the first stroke. Deftly he made it, wiping the blade every time on the towel he had on his shoulder. Just like a real barber, she observed. Her fears started to subside: he was precise in his movements, and fast. He was practised at this.

Delicately he parted her lips and with a few firm strokes removed all traces of hair right down to the crack between her buttocks.

He wiped her with a soft cloth and massaged a cooling oil all over the shaved area, arousing her all over again.

“Now you’re ready for Madame Bellavia,” he grinned, and turned his head as they both heard a knock at the door.

Victoria couldn’t raise her head sufficiently to see the woman who had just entered the room. She was aware of George greeting the woman and of their movement towards her. The woman placed a large, leather briefcase on the side table and then leaning over Victoria, stroked her hair back from her face.

“She’s a beauty, George. You’ve excelled yourself this time.” Madame Bellavia purred. She wore a tailored, cherry red suit, its plunging lapels meeting just below the breastbone, allowing Victoria to glimpse a hint of a black bra or bustier. She wondered which it might be. Her brunette hair was tightly wound into a chignon and she wore a simple pair of diamond studs in her ears. Her eyes were almost violet. She was striking and authoritative. A chic version of a school Matron, Victoria decided.

The woman stepped back, as if she was appraising Victoria in her entirety. “Remove these bindings George,” she ordered him. “I can’t do my work when she’s trussed up like this.”

Instead of untying the knots of the silk ropes, George took a sharp blade from the side table and cut Victoria loose. Ironically, she felt less safe now than when he’d bound her.

“Stand her up, George. Carefully! She’ll be dizzy after lying bound for so long.”

Considering he was such an alpha male, he followed Madame Bellavia’s orders unquestioningly. He put his arm around Victoria’s back, while holding one of her arms and half lifted her off the table. She felt a little unsteady as he guided her towards a four-poster bed that Victoria hadn’t noticed before. Had he drugged her and carried her in here naked? She recalled their dinner on the terrace earlier, and the electricity between them that had made her drop all her inhibitions. She had wanted him, and would have surrendered to him without hesitation. But was that her, or had he given her something to make her lose her inhibitions? Right now she wasn’t sure.

He stood her at one corner of the bed, and placed her hands on the post. “Hold on tight,” he instructed her. She did as he asked, but turned her head to try and see what was happening behind her.

The stinging slap across her buttocks took her by surprise and she cried out. more in shock than in pain. George grabbed her hands and holding them above her head, tied them to the bedpost in such a way that she couldn’t lower them.

Madame Bellavia’s hands were moving over her curves and Victoria felt a measuring tape around her waist, her hips and her breasts. Then across her shoulders and from the nape of her neck to the bottom of her spine. Madame Bellavia’s parted her thighs and passed the tape between her legs, measuring from her navel to her tailbone.

The sensations were not unpleasant. Victoria experienced an unexpected shiver of arousal. But uppermost in her mind was one thought – what was she being measured for?

She was irritated by this charade. But one thing kept her from having an outburst of anger right now; she suspected it was better to be compliant than demand answers. Her gut told her that George didn’t appreciate anyone, and certainly not women, questioning his actions, or contradicting him.

Something was wrong here, yet she was also enjoying herself. That was something else she couldn’t quite reconcile in her mind.

“What am I being measured for?” she asked, her tone as unconcerned as she could make it.

“Something pleasurable,” George replied. She felt his breath on her neck again and shuddered.

“Is that a little tender,” he teased, as he lightly caressed the buttock cheek he’d struck so forcefully just a few minutes before.

“It stings, yes!” she responded haughtily. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you wanted to look. You can look when I tell you to. Do you see?”

She was beginning to. But she didn’t have quite the whole picture.

“What do you want, George?”

It was a fair questions and she put it to him as if she was asking whether he’d like meat or fish over dinner.

“I want you, my dear Victoria.” He ran his finger over her cheekbones, tracing a route to her left breast. He pinched her nipple hard and she cried out, “Ouch! That really hurts.”

She wanted to swipe at his hand, but hers were tied.

“Now, now, don’t be pathetic, “he whispered in her ear. “Don’t make a fool of yourself in front of Madame Bellavia.”

Madame Bellavia was standing beside the marble table that Victoria had been tied to. She gestured to George to bring Victoria over. Victoria attempted to dig her feet in to the marble floor, but she was no match for George. Swinging her over his shoulder, she pummelled his back, screamed and kicked her legs, but he wasn’t letting her go.

“Restrain her!” the woman instructed him. Her back was turned to Victoria and she appeared to be sorting through items in her briefcase. She held a photograph in front of Victoria’s face. It showed the torso of woman wearing what looked like a harness made of fine strips of red leather that wound around the waist and criss-crossed the hips. Two strips of leather appeared to pass between her legs.

“It’s my most popular design,” she boasted, smiling at the photo. “And it’s made of the finest aniline leather.”

With that she turned to her briefcase, which she turned on its side to show Victoria the contents: a row of red leather dildos of different, lengths and widths.

“Now for the final touch to your outfit…let’s see which of these fits you the best.”

George stood beside Victoria, holding her hand. His erection was clearly visible through his lightweight cotton trousers. Madame Bellavia produced a tube of lube and squirted some on to her fingers. Victoria’s first instinct was to close to legs tight, but George had spread her legs before securing her ankles to the table legs.

“Relax,” Madame Bellavia encouraged her and gently pushed her fingers between Victoria’s labia, smearing the lube inside her.

George pointed at one of the dildos. “Try that one.”

Madame Bellavia nodded. It looked huge to Victoria.

She teased the tip of the dildo against Victoria’s opening, before pushing it in a little way. It was bigger than any cock Victoria was used to.

In a bit more, and out, and in a bit more. Despite its size, Victoria was getting wet again. She wanted to resist it, but she couldn’t. She saw that George was stroking himself through his trousers. She realised that despite whatever he might have given her the previous night, he had not fucked her yet.

The dildo was fully inside her now.

“Now…how does it feel when I make you come,” she laughed and Victoria’s hips bucked as the woman’s fingers circled her clit with a touch that Victoria knew would make her orgasm in seconds. At the moment she thought this, the world turned black, she screamed in ecstasy and her pussy gripped the leather dildo with more ferocity than she thought was possible.

She lay there panting, oblivious to George, the woman, to everything.

“You’ll wear this when I tell you to,” George informed Victoria.

His tone had changed. My god, he was threatening her!

Madame Bellavia passed something that glinted and clinked to him. He dangled it in front of her. “A padlock, you see, Victoria. Made of platinum, naturally. But it will ensure you can’t remove this ‘strap in’ as I call it. Only I can.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yes, you’re a clever woman Victoria. You’re thinking that you can just cut the leather straps.”

She gave him a crooked smile.

“But you’d regret doing that. The punishment would be so much worse than what you’ll feel wearing your new ‘underwear’.” He lengthened the three syllables, emphasising to Victoria that she had lost control for now.

What would she feel? Discomfort, humiliation…and something else she blushed to consider…desire.

The horror of the situation dawned on her. She knew it was written all over her face. It seemed the rumours she’d heard about George Shervashidze being another type of “collector” were true.

“I need to go home, George,” she pleaded. “I need to call my work.” He’d politely asked her for her phone on her arrival, claiming it was a house rule. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, and she understood that with art worth millions in the villa, he wouldn’t want people taking photos for security reasons. Overawed by him, she’d handed it over without asking any questions. Now she couldn’t even recall seeing a landline in the villa.

“Not just yet. Not when we’re about to have such fun. Anyway, I don’t want you to leave. Remember Victoria, I always get what I want.”

The menace in his voice set all her alarm bells ringing.

She was trapped in a remote villa with a man who excited her and terrified her. Her mind scrambled to think of a way out, but as George withdrew the drenched dildo from her, and unzipped his trousers, the awful reality of the situation hit her.

The gift she’d inherited sometimes put her in dangerous situations, but so far it had also allowed her to escape them in the nick of time. Now she’d put herself in danger in the present time, and her mirror was not here to take her home.

What price was she about to pay for her recently discovered desire for adventure? And what did George mean when he’d whispered, “People die for Madame Bellavia’s creations”?