Read Online Silk and Shadows by Mary Jo Putney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Jo Putney
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impressed, are you? Very well, I shall introduce you to some of the more unusual houses. Shall I include the city's best homosexual brothel in the tour?"
Even though he had expected this, Peregrine's hands curled into fists, the nails gouging his palms. Grateful for the carriage's concealing darkness, he said evenly, "That isn't a primary interest of mine, but it would be useful to know at least one such establishment for possible future use."
The next stop was Soho, at the lavish house of a lady who went by the name of Mrs. Cambridge. Dressed in clinging silk and trailing fur, she proudly displayed her collection of whip thongs, leather straps, needle-pointed cat-o'-nine-tails, currycombs, and much more. Her birch rods were stored in water to keep them supple, and the rooms were decorated with elegant vases full of stinging nettles that could be used if the customer wished. As the lady stroked a thong, she said cheerfully, "Many a dead man has been brought back to life with these."
The lady's piece de resistance was an apparatus called the Cambridge Chevalet, which she had designed herself. A cross between a rack and a freestanding ladder, it was padded and could be adjusted to a man's height. When the customer was strapped in place for his punishment, holes in the rack allowed a scantily clad assistant to caress him in appropriate places. Mrs. Cambridge personally administered all punishments, but had employees of both sexes if customers preferred to do the whipping themselves. Men whose interest in the subject was strictly academic could watch for a modest fee.
Peregrine's personal opinion was that life inflicted quite enough pain and only a damned fool would pay for the privilege of experiencing more, but there was something rather touching about Mrs. Cambridge's pride in her work. When they left, he kissed the lady's hand and solemnly assured her that he had never seen a craftswoman with more respect for the tools of her trade. Charmed, she insisted on giving him a copy of a flagellation classic called
Venus Schoolmistress, or Birchen Sports
.
After stopping at a sporting establishment whose principal claim to fame was that the girls played cards and billiards in the nude, Weldon produced two black half masks for their visit to the homosexual brothel. They arrived just in time to witness a mock marriage. Under a lace veil, the "bride" was a strapping mustachioed fellow who looked like a grenadier sergeant, while the "groom" was a languid society gentleman half a head shorter.
Waiters wearing frilly aprons and nothing more circulated with trays of champagne. His skin crawling, Peregrine found a quiet spot where he could sip his goblet and watch his host circulate among the "wedding party."
He was congratulating himself on how well he was controlling his distaste when someone came up behind and caressed his arm. Peregrine whirled, his expression so fierce that the other man fell back with a stuttered apology. It took Peregrine a moment to master himself enough to offer a contrite nod intended to convey that his reaction had been surprise, not loathing. Probably he was not successful, for the man quickly disappeared into another room.
Fortunately Weldon suggested leaving after about half an hour. When they were in the carriage again, he said, "I have saved the best for last. If you are not interested yourself, I hope you will not mind waiting while I am engaged."
"Of course not. You have been very generous with your time, and I can hardly be less so." In a tone of bored curiosity, Peregrine went on, "Which of tonight's activities would an English gentleman expect a wife such as Lady Sara St. James to emulate?"
There was palpable shock in Weldon's gasp. His contempt for ignorant foreigners obvious, he said, "No English gentleman would expect a lady to behave like the creatures we've seen tonight—a considerate husband would not inflict himself on a gently bred wife more than once or twice a month. Many men approach
Even though he had expected this, Peregrine's hands curled into fists, the nails gouging his palms. Grateful for the carriage's concealing darkness, he said evenly, "That isn't a primary interest of mine, but it would be useful to know at least one such establishment for possible future use."
The next stop was Soho, at the lavish house of a lady who went by the name of Mrs. Cambridge. Dressed in clinging silk and trailing fur, she proudly displayed her collection of whip thongs, leather straps, needle-pointed cat-o'-nine-tails, currycombs, and much more. Her birch rods were stored in water to keep them supple, and the rooms were decorated with elegant vases full of stinging nettles that could be used if the customer wished. As the lady stroked a thong, she said cheerfully, "Many a dead man has been brought back to life with these."
The lady's piece de resistance was an apparatus called the Cambridge Chevalet, which she had designed herself. A cross between a rack and a freestanding ladder, it was padded and could be adjusted to a man's height. When the customer was strapped in place for his punishment, holes in the rack allowed a scantily clad assistant to caress him in appropriate places. Mrs. Cambridge personally administered all punishments, but had employees of both sexes if customers preferred to do the whipping themselves. Men whose interest in the subject was strictly academic could watch for a modest fee.
Peregrine's personal opinion was that life inflicted quite enough pain and only a damned fool would pay for the privilege of experiencing more, but there was something rather touching about Mrs. Cambridge's pride in her work. When they left, he kissed the lady's hand and solemnly assured her that he had never seen a craftswoman with more respect for the tools of her trade. Charmed, she insisted on giving him a copy of a flagellation classic called
Venus Schoolmistress, or Birchen Sports
.
After stopping at a sporting establishment whose principal claim to fame was that the girls played cards and billiards in the nude, Weldon produced two black half masks for their visit to the homosexual brothel. They arrived just in time to witness a mock marriage. Under a lace veil, the "bride" was a strapping mustachioed fellow who looked like a grenadier sergeant, while the "groom" was a languid society gentleman half a head shorter.
Waiters wearing frilly aprons and nothing more circulated with trays of champagne. His skin crawling, Peregrine found a quiet spot where he could sip his goblet and watch his host circulate among the "wedding party."
He was congratulating himself on how well he was controlling his distaste when someone came up behind and caressed his arm. Peregrine whirled, his expression so fierce that the other man fell back with a stuttered apology. It took Peregrine a moment to master himself enough to offer a contrite nod intended to convey that his reaction had been surprise, not loathing. Probably he was not successful, for the man quickly disappeared into another room.
Fortunately Weldon suggested leaving after about half an hour. When they were in the carriage again, he said, "I have saved the best for last. If you are not interested yourself, I hope you will not mind waiting while I am engaged."
"Of course not. You have been very generous with your time, and I can hardly be less so." In a tone of bored curiosity, Peregrine went on, "Which of tonight's activities would an English gentleman expect a wife such as Lady Sara St. James to emulate?"
There was palpable shock in Weldon's gasp. His contempt for ignorant foreigners obvious, he said, "No English gentleman would expect a lady to behave like the creatures we've seen tonight—a considerate husband would not inflict himself on a gently bred wife more than once or twice a month. Many men approach
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