***Warning this chapter contains mature content and scenes which may be offensive to many readers. Read this chapter at your own risk. Otherwise skip ahead to Chapter 15***
Unable to restrain himself further, Dorian grabbed the girl and roughly threw her onto the bed. Lady Helena held her down as Dorian mounted her and began rutting with little regard for the girl's unintelligible cries of pain. She spoke only Arabic and Dorian merely laughed at the nearly indecipherable babble.
Lady Helena tied the girl's arms firmly to the bedpost with cords of silk and kissed Dorian passionately as he continued to thrust into the helpless girl. As his ardor rose, he placed both hands around the girl's neck and began squeezing. The girl struggled desperately against the restraints in an attempt to draw breath as Dorian continued choking her.
"Call me your Prince Charming," Dorian demanded. The girl did not understand and looked with red-faced fear at her two captors. She could only beg in her native language as Dorian continued. "I said call me Prince Charming!"
He tightened his grip further in anger and ecstasy as he reached climax. With a final shudder, he released his hold and slid off the girl. "What a savage, she couldn't even speak."
Lady Helena's smile faded as she took her eyes off of Dorian for the first time and looked down to the bed. The frail form of the Tunisian Princess was still and motionless. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling. Lady Helena held her hand to the girl's mouth to check for breath. She looked up slowly at Dorian and spoke in a shocked tone. "You killed her."
"What? That is impossible. I only choked her a little as you and I have done dozens of times."
"You were never so rough before. She is so thin you must have accidentally crushed her. Yes, an accident."
Dorian's face grew panicked. "I couldn't have. Perhaps she was ill. I didn't mean it. You must believe me it was unintentional."
"Something will have to be done about the body. Most of the servants have left for the evening. Go to the garden and find a shovel."
Dorian stared in disbelief at Lady Helena. His gaze slid to the inert form on the bed. Her neck was bruised with purple finger marks. He looked down at his hands in horror. After a moment, Dorian slowly dressed and then went to the garden to find a shovel.
In the pale moonlight, the two began digging a deep hole behind the bushes of the garden. They wrapped the body in expensive bed sheets and unceremoniously dumped it inside. Dorian's taut muscles were straining by the time he had fully covered the hole. Lady Helena calmly transplanted several small saplings in the soil over where the body was buried.
In a cold voice, she whispered, "Let us never speak of this again."
Dorian nodded his assent and the two walked back wordlessly to the main house. The next day he awoke in the same bed where the girl had died. The bright sun illuminated the room and he looked about for Lady Helena. She was already gone. The servants informed him that she had left to return to London without so much as a farewell note.