Divine Cruelty (10 page)

She didn't think it would be possible to completely obey that instruction - the room was repulsive, Osbourne was odious and she was unnerved by the surreal situation - but she knew she had to try. The arousal that had come from the honour parade, and the excitement she had enjoyed while swallowing Master Bernard's erection, then drinking from his crystal goblet, were nothing more than fading memories. Distaste for the man beside her, and an instinctive reluctance to do anything he asked, killed every sexual urge before it had properly begun.

Nevertheless, knowing she couldn't spend the remainder of the half hour vacillating, Rachel stepped from his loose embrace and touched herself. She had never felt more uncomfortable or out of place while masturbating. The shame of what she was doing, and the fact she was performing for the satisfaction of the disgusting old man, made her humiliation seem more unbearable than ever. She supposed the torment wasn't as bad as the ritual ordeal of having to read the tarocco, but she didn't think it lagged too far behind.

'Do it faster, bitch!' he grumbled. 'You're here for my pleasure, not your own.'

She apologised again, remembering to call him sir this time. With her sex lips spread open, and her piercing rings and chains pushed to one side, Rachel licked one finger and tested it against her clitoris. It was hard work trying to coax the reluctant bead of flesh from the sanctuary of its hood but, closing her eyes and thinking of Master Bernard, Rachel was able to stir a whisper of arousal through her pussy. Remembering the taste of his cock, and the way his grin had broadened when she drank the contents of the crystal goblet, she felt able to frig more swiftly. The subtle tingle of excitement became stronger and, when she gently tugged on her piercing, a sweet bolt of raw pleasure spiked the centre of her sex.

'You're just fucking teasing me, aren't you?' he croaked.

Rachel shook her head but he wasn't looking at her face.

His gaze alternated between her breasts and her open pussy lips. 'You're just fucking teasing me so you don't have to screw me,' he grunted. 'Don't think I don't know your tricks. I know them all.'

She started to tell him that he was wrong, and that she was only doing as he had instructed, but he wasn't listening. His hand fell on her arm and the sound of his voice and the unwanted contact immediately destroyed the mood she had been building. Even when he had taken his hand away, the memory of his touch lingered on her flesh like an unscrubbed stain and it was all she could do to continue rubbing herself and hope her sex would prove responsive.

'Stroke me hard,' he demanded. 'That should get your pussy juices flowing if nothing else does.'

She was thankful for the poor light, hoping it would hide her instinctive sneer of contempt. He didn't seem to notice the expression and, seeming content to simply grapple with her breasts, he allowed her to open his robe and reach between his legs.

His shaft dangled flacidly beneath his pot belly. The small tube of skin hung limp between her fingers and Rachel was disgusted to feel it was coated by a greasy film of sweat. Steeling herself against a rising swell of nausea she tried to coax him to a state of erection by holding him in her fist and squeezing gently.

'Wank me,' he screeched. 'And do it properly.'

Not sure how she was failing, Rachel apologised, remembered to call him sir, then tried to tug his length back and forth. It was difficult to stroke him because the ineffectual flesh wouldn't respond to her caresses. She tried to place her other hand underneath him, wanting to use her fingertips to tickle his scrotum, but he slapped her hand away and told her not to do anything unless he had specifically instructed.

Suitably chastised, Rachel went through the pretence of trying to roll his foreskin back and forth.

Osbourne sighed. 'That's it you bitch,' he grunted. 'Wank me hard.'

She was struggling to obey but his shaft remained putty-like and pliant.

'Don't you want me stiff enough to fuck your pussy?' he breathed.

Rachel didn't want that but she knew she couldn't reply honestly. Lowering her tone to a husky drawl, trying to excite him with sultry suggestions, she said, 'I'd love to feel this cock sliding into my hole, sir.'

He groaned and his limp length trembled in her hand.

Encouraged by the response Rachel began to rub faster. She pressed her mouth close to Osbourne's ear and whispered, 'I'd love to feel this shaft pumping into my pussy, sir. I'd love for you to fill me with your spunk. If you were to do that, sir, I'd lick you clean and get you hard a second time so you could fuck my arse.'

Osbourne groaned. Unexpectedly, his limp shaft pulsed and a sly string of white trickled from the end into Rachel's palm.

She stared at the eruption and wondered what had happened.

Shrewishly, Osbourne pulled himself from her grip. He turned his face away but not before she had seen that his cheeks were ruddy with embarrassment. 'You can leave now,' he hissed.

Not sure what she was meant to do, wondering if she should apologise or do something to appease his obvious discomfort, Rachel started to speak.

'Don't say another word, you bitch,' he snapped. He raised his hand as though ready to slap her again. 'I've told you to go. I don't want you here any longer. You've done enough.'

Bewildered, Rachel rushed from the room.

Master Bernard stood further along the corridor, patiently smoking a cigarette. He didn't seem surprised to see her appear ahead of schedule and simply strolled to her side, linked his arm in hers and started escorting her toward the lift. 'Was that enlightening?' he asked.

She shook her head and swallowed twice before speaking. Her heart was hammering hard and she wondered why her body was displaying the symptoms of near panic. 'Who is he?' asked.

Master Bernard dropped his cigarette to the floor and stamped it into the pock-marked concrete. 'Osbourne? Didn't he tell you? He used to be a formidable master and slaveholder.'

Rachel regarded Master Bernard with a sceptical frown. It was impossible to think of the impotent, decrepit figure she had just seen as ever being a master and slaveholder and she wondered if her host was making fun of her ignorance.

Master Bernard must have seen some of her doubts because he laughed lightly. 'I know. It's hard to believe, isn't it? But he was a legend in the art of domination. He kept a harem of Swedish blondes, dominated a couple of big-named movie stars if the gossip is true, and there were rumours he had control over a couple of princesses from the royal family.'

Rachel struggled to equate what Master Bernard was saying with the pathetic figure she had just left behind. 'What happened to him?'

He stopped in front of the lift and considered her sternly. 'I thought Osbourne might have said.'

Rachel shook her head.

'Or you might have guessed.'

Again, knowing she was missing something obvious, and feeling decidedly stupid because of it, Rachel simply stared at him with a blatant lack of comprehension.

'Osbourne once had the chance to trade with Pearl,' Master Bernard explained. 'Osbourne turned her down, said he didn't want to deal with her, and this is what she's done to him.'

Rachel placed a hand over her mouth. The lift doors opened and Master Bernard escorted her back into the understated splendour of its confines. 'How did she reduce him to that?'

'She has friends in high places,' he said quietly. 'I'm only giving you Osbourne's side of the story here, so I might be doing her an injustice, but he said she gave information to the right police officers. He claims she made anonymous calls to the appropriate newspapers and planted enough circumstantial evidence to ensure his downfall. Even the best protected slaveholder can get dragged down by the undertow of a well-planned scandal.'

Thinking of Master Vince being crushed in such a way, imagining him living a squalid and pathetic existence like Osbourne, was more than Rachel wanted to contemplate.

'I introduced you to Osbourne to prove a point,' Master Bernard explained. 'You were concerned that you'd done the wrong thing by lying to my brother. I wanted to let you see that you'd done exactly the right thing.'

His words gave her a rush of relief. She had worried her decision might have been the wrong one, and still feared the consequences of having instigated a business relationship between Pearl and Master Vince, but the knowledge that she had saved him from ruination momentarily justified the crime of lying.

Turning to thank him, anxious to let Master Bernard know that he had taken a great burden from her shoulders, she was surprised to see him frowning. 'What's the matter?'

'I was just thinking about Pearl,' he said glumly. 'You may have saved my brother from her immediate wrath, but he's still trading with her. What do you propose to do about the situation?'

She opened her mouth to reply then realised there wasn't anything she could say. After all that she had seen, and learning how ably Pearl had managed to destroy a legendary master, Rachel wondered if there was anything she could hope to do to break the woman's partnership with her master.

CHAPTER EIGHT

'Tighter,' Rachel gasped. 'I want it much fucking tighter than that.'

One of the dark-skinned slaves gasped. Two of the others exchanged a shocked glance and she could see they were surprised that she was addressing their master with scant regard for the use of correct protocols. Ignoring their prudish frowns - concentrating only on her own needs - she glared at Master Bernard, clenched her teeth and said, 'That's not nearly enough. I want it much fucking tighter.'

He grinned and his rigid shaft twitched excitedly. He was overseeing her torment: directing slaves to bind each orb while indicating who should use which dildo and where. There were two lengths of plastic jostling side by side in her rectum and their shrill buzz rattled through her bowel. A third, wider phallus was being forced into the aching hole of her sex and it stretched her beyond the limits of endurance. Around her breasts, punishingly tight, two thick leather straps had been tied and pulled taut. Both orbs were blushing with trapped blood and her nipples stood hard and magenta. The combination of debilitating pain and insatiable arousal left her delirious.

'Tighter?' Master Bernard laughed. 'You really must enjoy being tit-bound.'

It was neither the time nor the place to discuss whether she liked or disliked the punishment and Rachel didn't bother gracing his remark with an answer. Being tit-bound was a twin-edged sword of pain and pleasure but, when it was properly done, it had one advantage over every other form of punishment: it stopped her from dwelling on anything except the sensations in her breasts.

Since meeting Osbourne the broken old man had been at the forefront of her mind. His face had loomed toward her from the darkness when she was alone with Master Bernard and the tragic story of his downfall had heightened her fears each time she thought about her home with Master Vince. Rachel repeatedly told herself Osbourne had suffered because he refused to deal with the slave trader but, even though she knew Pearl was now her master's business partner, it was impossible to shake off the worry that she might still be planning to destroy him.

The torment of the tit-binding helped her to briefly forget all those worries. Her breasts were a deafening scream of agony with each nipple becoming obscenely sensitive. The slightest movement of her piercings sparked delicious spasms that racked her entire body. It only took the slightest tug on her chains to hurl her toward the verge of orgasm. She thrashed elatedly on the bed and stared with blind gratitude toward Master Bernard and his hoard of pliant dark-skinned slaves.

'We don't have much longer together,' he told her.

She silently cursed his desire to talk, wishing he would simply use her so she could complete her pleasure. Rather than bore her with whatever it was he wanted to say, she would have preferred him to fuck her, or get one of the slaves to don a strap-on and ride her, or treat her to some twisted variation on a similar theme. Her imagination was quick to supply ideas for how they could share their last moments; he could use her, then have one of his slaves lap the semen from her hole; he could make her suck on him while his entourage nibbled and licked against her shivering body; he could bind her breasts tighter and then thrash the swollen orbs with nettles.

All of the scenarios seemed appealing - certainly more entertaining than listening to his tiresome rhetoric - and she wondered why he couldn't see her urgent need.

'Push those deeper,' he barked.

He pointed at the slave behind her and, faultlessly obedient, she slid both vibrators further inside Rachel's anus. The muscle was stretched to a shriek and the mechanical drone groaned through her bowel. She squeezed her eyes closed and glorious eruptions, a spectacular firework display, began to explode in the darkness.

'You. Tug on those chains,' he snapped.

Rachel didn't have to open her eyes to know he was being obeyed. The sensitive flesh around her piercings was subjected to the familiar torment of being stretched and she grimaced around a cry of pure pleasure.

He demanded someone remove the vibrator from her sex and it was snatched away to leave a hollow empty vacuum. Perversely, even though it was gone, the inner muscles of her sex continued to buzz as though the length still filled her.