The Unbreaking of Agnes: Of Lust and Libraries by Serena Silverlake

Author:Serena Silverlake [Silverlake, Serena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

Now: Aftercare

If Agnes’s session with Morgan had scrubbed clean her mind and scoured her soul afresh, then her session with Morgan’s copper tub did the same thing for her body. She groaned with sheer pleasure as she sank into the depths of the bath, curls of steam rising from the water’s surface in an echo of San Francisco fog.

“Lean forward,” Morgan said, voice sparkling with a playful sort of annoyance, “so I can get your back.” The Lady held up a tin of salve and shook it, feigning impatience.

Agnes did as she was told, leaning forward in the water and hugging her knees, shivering as she exposed her welted back to the cool air. She winced when she felt Morgan’s touch on her tender, lash-stained skin. The weals earned from their play still smarted, but as the salve was spread the throbbing faded to nothing.

“What is that stuff?” Agnes asked, amazed by the speed of the relief. “It works like magic.”

“Yes. Just like magic,” agreed Morgan, and changed the subject. “You know, I’ve heard the stereotype of the ‘sexy librarian’ many times before, but I always thought it was a construct of the American sexual psyche. I’m very pleased to be proved wrong by you.”

Agnes half turned, splashing water about the tub, and saw the amusement glittering in Morgan’s fathomless eyes.

“Har har, very funny,” Agnes said.

Morgan slid a palm up Agnes’s back, tracking the path of her spine before resting her hand lightly on the nape of her neck. “Very funny My Lady,” she corrected.

Agnes had to bite her lip to stop from moaning.

Morgan let the silence stretch, warm and companionable, while she continued applying the salve to Agnes’s abused back. It was a long while before she spoke again, but when she did all traces of mirth were gone.

“You’re a beautiful instrument, Agnes. It’s a pity that your first visit to my Court has to be so rushed. I’d love to see what music we might make if we could play longer together.”

Agnes shuddered again, and this time not for the coolness of the air. She ran her fingers through the thick tumble of strawberry-gold hair that fell across her shoulder, considering her answer and the implications it might hold. Morgan’s offer was tantalizing and terrifying in equal measure, and there was part of Agnes—the bigger part of her, the broken part, the part that craved and wanted things it should never desire—that part was tempted beyond belief.

“Maybe,” Agnes managed. It was the best compromise she could make with the warring halves of her soul.

The blissful emptiness in her head was starting to fade, and all the old thoughts were trickling back in, bringing with them a burden of guilt. She could maybe justify a lapse in her celibacy once, for the sake of the book and her place in the Lorehold. But she couldn’t let this become a regular thing, no matter the dark cravings of her flesh. She deserved punishment for the things she’d done, but the lash wasn’t a punishment if she ached with yearning for it.

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