Lucy takes Edmund in hand.

Edmund pushed the door open to reveal the Henshawe office's tiled water closet with modern brass and porcelain fixtures. "There."

Lucy glanced down at Edmund's trousers to see that his prick was bulging out the fashionably close tailoring. Back at Downs Edge, he would already have had her bent over in a closet, his prick socketed and pistoning away.

"Wait a moment, Edmund," she said, doing her best to project a firm voice from her diaphragm. He met her eyes with an annoyed look.

"You can't go back up with your trousers disarranged," Lucy said. "Come in here and take care of that."

He stepped into the W.C. and closed the door behind him. "Impertinent hussy," he hissed. "Raise your skirts." He unbuttoned his trousers and unloosed his prick.

Lucy breathed more quickly and deeply at the sight of Edmund's erect member, but she did not relent in her purpose. She met his eyes.

"Edmund," Lucy said. "I am no longer your servant. Not yours to order any longer."

"Damme, woman," Edmund spat. "You have my HOUSE. What do you WANT?"

"I won't be your plaything anymore. But if you can respect me, Edmund," Lucy said, "I would be your lover." She reached out and curled her fingers around his penis. "All I ask is a simple demonstration of your respect, and a promise," she said.

Edmund looked at her, his face red and his expression fierce. But he didn't move or speak. The prick that had possessed her so many times was in her hand, erect but unmoving.

"Would you yet be my lover, Edmund Netherwood?" Lucy asked.

"What do you want?" he rasped.

"Would you, Edmund?" she pressed.

"Yes, damn it all!" Edmund exclaimed. "What do you want from me?"