1831
The party that Henry Tatewater had decided to throw to honor his father's memory was in fact nothing more than a way for Tatewater to make himself known to the more elite members of society. He had spared no expense in preparing for his self-appointed introduction, spending hundreds on wine and fine foods, as well as clothing for himself and for Mercy. The young woman looked stunning and as she sipped on a glass of wine, her presence was noted by all.
One man in particular had been introduced to Tatewater as Captain James Blackhawk. He was a guest of Lord and Lady Whitmeyer and the Whitmeyer's were thrilled that Blackhawk had been able attend a lavish affair before taking his leave of their hospitality. As Blackhawk gazed at Mercy Lewis and watched her tongue dart out to taste the wine on her lips, he too found himself thankful that Tatewater had arrived and had brought with him a fine gem of a companion. He had been quick to discover that Mercy was not married, nor betrothed to Tatewater, and was in fact his Mistress.
His gaze darted around the room, taking note of who was present and who was not. His time within the walls of Whitmeyer estate had paid off, thanks to mutual benefits of a partnership with the Lord and Lady. He had discovered the routes of various ships that would be departing over the next four months as well as their cargo. He had planned on purchasing a few whores for his trip and his men, but with the arrival of Mercy Lewis, that plan would be altered slightly. His desire for her had been instant and when he wanted something, he rarely hesitated in grasping it.
James picked up a glass of wine, when a servant passed by him and drank deeply of the crimson fluid. He caught sight of Henry Tatewater and noticed that he seemed to be using a large black servant as a support beam. Blackhawk made his way toward the host of the party and picked up on the conversation that was flowing heavily around Tatewater. Even though Tatewater's words were slurred and excessively hard to comprehend, Blackhawk could tell that the man was itching to prove himself at the gaming tables. James couldn't blame him, not really, it was what most newcomers to society did. They had to preen their feathers to show their importance to the world around them. In James Blackhawk's mind, it was often their undoing.
"Ah, here is Blackhawk," Henry said when he caught James approaching.
"Yes, here I am and what are we discussing?" James asked, before giving a once over to the group of men who were conversing with Tatewater. He noticed Lord Everett Whitmeyer as well as Lord Gregory, Samuel Reuben, and Morgan Benedict. All four gentlemen were notorious gamblers and a game involving them would be one that would make Blackhawk work for what he wanted. He glanced toward Mercy who was in deep conversation with Lady Whitmeyer. He caught Evelyn Whitmeyer's eyes and smiled warmly. His friend smiled back before returning her attentions to Mercy.
"Well, will you join us?" Everett Whitmeyer was saying, pulling James back to the conversation that he'd eavesdropped in on.
"What are the stakes?" he asked. "I've plenty of money and am leaving in the morning, so loosing it doesn't sit well with me."
The other men laughed. Lord Whitmeyer lifted his drink and finished its contents. "We're betting our beloved partners. One week of sexual bliss."
James chuckled. "And all your ladies are in agreement?" James knew Evelyn Whitmeyer would be more than willing to do as her husband demanded, including servicing one of his friends. And he'd heard rumors that Lord Gregory's wife was just as submissive ad Evelyn. He did not know a lot about Samuel Reuben, or Morgan Benedict, except that neither was married and Benedict had a long-time mistress named Isabell. He had seen Isabell at a few of Whitmeyer's parties, but had not had an opportunity to enjoy her charms and Reuben was rumored to be between partners. "What lady has Sir Reuben brought with him this evening?" James asked, looking around at the crowd of laughing and dancing women.
"See the blonde by the window, the one almost sitting on Cartwater's lap?" Samuel said, as he lifted his drink to his lips. He drew deeply from it, swallowed the cool beverage and grinned. "She is mine and she too will agree to whatever I desire."
"But alas, I did not bring a lady," James said. "So I come to the table empty handed."
"Evelyn will be your lady," Whitmeyer answered.
"Two weeks then if I lose for poor Lady Whitmeyer?" James countered. "Are you sure you could survive that long without her?"
"Well, I won't agree to two consecutive weeks," he laughed.
"Then count me in," James said, then turned to Henry Tatewater, "I assume your lady, Ms. Mercy will concede to your wishes as well?"
Henry laughed and clapped James on the back. "I'll not be loosing," he said, "but yes, my Mercy will do as she's told, or receive a beating and still be taken. She is a good slut, one that knows her place, though I have learned she purposely riles me so that the whip is laid upon her flesh with more bite."
James' lips rose in a smirk and his cock stiffened slightly. "She craves the whip?"
"Aye, very much. I have learned to read her. I know when she's purposely drawing my anger out and when she's accidentally gone to far."
"Let us retire to another room then," James said and the other men agreed.
As they left the room, they discussed further the rules of the game. They would play for coin until only two men remained, and then the ladies would be "placed in the pot". The loser would forfeit his companion or wife immediately and would retrieve her exactly one week later at the exact hour that the game was concluded. Whitmeyer vouched for Captain James Blackhawk and when the door closed on the small group, the fate of their ladies were held in their hands.
The party had mellowed out shortly after the group of men left. Mercy had found herself occupied by a group of women who seemed to be with escorts. It wasn't until a servant came to her and the other women that they were told where their companions and husbands were. "Gaming, is one of man's greatest vices," Evelyn Whitmeyer said, before taking Mercy's hand and leading the group away from the stale smoke-filled air of the ballroom.
They left the house, and walked along the garden, enjoying the fresh night air and the soft sound of nocturnal life. Eventually they made their way to a gazebo, that was illuminated by kerosene lamps. "Have you enjoyed your stay here with Tatewater?" Evelyn asked, once the women sat down on the smooth polished and painted benches that lined the gazebo.
"I have," Mercy admitted. "It's a lovely home and he is a wonderful Master."
The other women smiled and nodded their heads. "We thought that was your role here, but none of us were entirely sure," Samuel's companion Heather said, before reaching out to touch Mercy's hand. "Is he a kind Master?"
"Yes, I believe he is. He is my first, unless one counts my father."
"Your father? Did he train you?" Heather asked.
