Of course not, well...

Charlotte had read of women being kept in hareems in the Mohamedian lands of North Africa and Arabia whose sole purpose in life was to sexually please the lord of the land, until today she imagined that fate for a white woman to be the ultimate in humiliation. As she lay sprawled out on the bed with Mr. Fuller still embedded within her like a stallion she had to reevaluate her assessment. There was an honesty in this relationship missing from most marriages she knew of, no pretext of love - just her and a man who wanted her, and that at least she knew for sure.

"I wish that I could Lady Marlton," Fuller whispered into her ear as he rocked slowly against her prolonging the moment with a few more sparks of sexual pleasure.

"Under the circumstances," Charlotte almost giggled as she realized this situation had never been covered in all of her schooling on social etiquette. "Under the circumstances I think you might call me Charlotte."

"Yes, of course." Mr. Fuller seemed as flustered by her request as he had when he first found her making tea by the fire. "And if it pleases you, my name is Randy."

It was only when after another minute when Randy slowly climbed from Miss Marlton's back and his foot kicked against the chain that lay on the floor at Miss Marlton's (in spite of her request he had trouble thinking of her as just 'Charlotte') foot that he remembered the iron ring around her ankle. It took just a few seconds to find the key in his discarded trousers and a minute more to slowly loosened the head of the bolt until finally he could slide her ankle free. There was significant damage to the soft skin of her calf, and he grimaced when he saw the abrasions and bruising that the iron ring had inflicted on his prisoner.

"I'm sorry Miss Charlotte." Randy murmured gently dabbing at the trickle of blood with a rag as he held her foot in his lap. "I never should have treated you so poorly." The apology was for more than just the iron ring on her ankle, his actions had as she had explained not all that long ago ruined her.

"It is not as bad as it looks, Randolph," she said using his full given name, "you should have seen me when a fell from an apple tree when I was only ten. That same leg was broken in three different places." Charlotte laughed happily, "I think my mother wanted to kill me - once she found out I wasn't going to die!"

"Please, only my father ever called me Randolph." He smiled at the beauty lying on his bed and pulled her legs tightly against his belly.

"My father was the same way with my step brother, he forbid us to call him 'Jack', Father said it made him sound like a village idiot."

"Your brother's name is Jack?" The words were sharp. He realized belatedly that his grip on her legs had tightened when he saw her eyes widen in fear and surprise. Randy made a conscious effort to stroke her legs gently as he asked as casually as he could.

"Where is this step-brother of yours now?