Divine Cruelty (9 page)

He reached down and toyed thoughtfully with her ginger curls. Rather than pulling her face onto his length he seemed content to simply stroke her hair as she exhaled against his rigid flesh.

Determined not to rush, wanting to savour every moment of her stay now she was in the sanctuary of Master Bernard's private domain, Rachel began cautiously. The taste of sweat and lingering pre-come enhanced his flavour and she struggled not to give in to her craving and swallow him greedily. Teasing him with tentative kisses, she waited until he had released his first groan before daring to encircle his girth with her lips.

His fingers tightened in her hair and he clutched the curls with barely restrained force. She got the impression he wanted to pull her onto him, force his length into her face until the glans touched the back of her throat. Instead, he gently held her in place as she sucked.

'Bring the goblet,' he barked.

Rachel didn't bother looking up, knowing he was shouting the instruction to the ebony slave. Obedient as ever, she rushed to their side and placed the crystal goblet by Rachel's knee.

Pursing her lips tightly, expecting his climax to come at any second, Rachel steeled herself for his eruption. His length was trembling, and she knew he was going to spurt, but still it came as something of a shock when his jet spattered at the back of her throat.

The load was thick, copious and obscenely warm.

It was almost reflexive to swallow and she had to purposefully remind herself that Master Bernard would be displeased if she spoilt his honour parade at this late stage. Working hard to keep his come in her mouth, she accepted each pulse, grimly aware that her cheeks were bulging with the effort.

Affectionately stroking her face, Master Bernard withdrew his shaft from her mouth. Rachel placed her lips over the goblet and, turning slightly so he didn't have to watch, she allowed his seed to dribble into the glass. When she turned back to face him he had tucked his spent length back into his pants and was expectantly studying her.

'You're going to drink it?' he asked.

She returned his gaze boldly. 'Do you want me to?'

He nodded, only a subtle gesture, but enough for Rachel to know she was being given an order. Without allowing herself to hesitate she raised the crystal goblet to her lips and tilted it upwards. The gelatinous blend of semens and salivas made for a noxious combination. But, rather than filling her with the nausea she expected, the drink only increased her appetite for more. If she hadn't thought it would make her look ill bred, Rachel would have used her tongue to lick the remnants that adhered to the sides and bottom of the goblet. Instead, she contented herself with licking her lips while she maintained defiant eye contact with Master Bernard.

'Say it,' he instructed.

She smiled slyly, chased a finger around the inside of the goblet, then licked her knuckle clean.

'Say it,' Master Bernard insisted.

'Thank you,' she said softly.

He glanced behind Rachel and caught the attention of his slave. 'You're excused. Instruct the rest of my staff to continue with their duties.'

The slave curtsied and disappeared out into the corridor.

As soon as they were alone, Master Bernard encouraged Rachel from the floor to his knee and embraced her naked body. 'I've missed you,' he mumbled, kissing her ear.

She responded wantonly to his affection. 'We shouldn't keep deceiving Master Vince like this.'

He made no reply, his roving hands finding her breasts and inspiring both orbs with a tingling desire for satisfaction. As their kisses became more intimate, and when she felt the first signs of his erection stiffening between his legs, Rachel pulled her mouth from his and paused for a moment. 'What excuse did you give him this time?'

He shrugged. 'I can't remember. Something about a visit from foreign dignitaries, I think. I just know, I couldn't stand another weekend without you.' He coated her body with kisses, touching and exciting her with each inquisitive caress. His words came between each eager exploration. 'I told my brother I needed a slave with your combination of beauty and obedience and, because he doesn't suspect I care for you so much, he agreed.'

Rachel chewed her lower lip. She wanted to tell him that they could never have the sort of relationship he desired but she couldn't bring herself to let him down. Teasing at the buttons on his starched white shirt she said, 'You saved me from suffering under Pearl. I think I owe you a debt of gratitude for that kindness.'

Mention of the slave trader's name seemed to sour his good mood. He continued to smother Rachel with kisses but they were no longer enthusiastic and she got the impression his thoughts were elsewhere. 'Pearl's a dangerous bitch,' he confided. 'I'm surprised your tarocco said my brother could trust her.'

Rachel turned her face away from his. Suddenly immune to the pleasure he had been inspiring, she said quietly, 'The tarocco didn't say he could trust her.'

'But...'

'I lied.'

He stopped kissing her and regarded her with stupefied silence.

'I lied on that point,' she confessed. Speaking quickly to try and explain herself, anxious to have him understand that her motives hadn't been selfish, she said, 'I guessed Master Vince was going to ask about her - I had my own doubts about the woman - so I made two private readings before coming to my decision.'

The teasing and titillation had stopped and he studied her with the cool disdain she was more used to receiving from his brother. 'What do you mean, you made two private readings?'

'I read the cards once to ask what the outcome would be if Master Vince dealt with Pearl. And then I made a second reading to ask what the outcome would be if he didn't deal with her. The results were the same both times: suffering, catastrophe and misery.'

He shook his head, frowning. 'Why didn't you go straight to my brother and tell him that?'

'Master Vince doesn't approve of my doing personal readings. He insists I only read the tarocco when he's there to benefit from the divination. He would have been livid.'

Master Bernard strummed his fingers thoughtfully and for a long moment said nothing. Eventually, he gave a reluctant grin and said, 'You're worried you've done the wrong thing, aren't you?'

The answer to his question was so obvious Rachel didn't bother to reply.

'Come with me,' he said sharply. 'I think there's someone you need to meet.'

Not sure what to expect, Rachel allowed him to lead her from the room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

They used a private lift to descend from the penthouse floor to the basement and the contrast in decor could not have been more striking. Rachel wondered if they were in a car park or some forgotten storeroom when they stepped into the dank gloom. The basement was poorly lit, decorated only in bare plaster and concrete, and furnished with dripping pools and discarded newspapers.

'Where are you taking me?'

He shook his head. 'There'll be time for questions after.'

'But...'

'After,' he assured her.

Holding her hand, walking confidently around the unlit corridors, he took her towards a battered door in one wall and hammered hard against the jamb. Rachel tried to read his face, wondering if she could get any idea where this was all leading, but his expression was inscrutable.

'Osbourne. Open up,' Master Bernard called. He hammered so hard Rachel thought he was in danger of destroying the shivering wood. 'I know you're inside, Osbourne. It's only me.'

The door opened and, unable to stop herself, Rachel shrank back from the man who appeared there. His skin was parchment pale and looked like it hadn't seen sunlight in years. His eyes, watery, red-lined and sunken, stared miserably up at Master Bernard. Dressed in a tattered robe, Rachel thought both the garment and its owner had obviously seen much better days.

'What do you want, Bernie?'

Master Bernard grinned easily. 'How long has it been since you dominated a slave?'

'Fuck off!' Osbourne snapped. He started to slam the door closed but Master Bernard was fast and put his foot in the way before it could shut. 'Let me close this damned thing!' Osbourne grumbled, trying to shut it in spite of Master Bernard's efforts. 'It's good of you to let me stay here rent free, but I won't have you taking the piss out of me like this.'

Slowly, Master Bernard pushed the door open. 'No one's taking the piss out of you,' he said patiently. Pulling Rachel closer, urging her to step into the doorway of the stale-smelling room, he added, 'I've got a slave here if you'd care to use her for half an hour.'

For the first time Osbourne's gaze found Rachel. He fixed her with a leering smile filled with teeth that were either yellow, black or missing. For the first time Rachel noticed the foul smell of his body and it took all her effort not to recoil from the stench.

'This is a pretty one,' Osbourne observed.

Rachel shook her head, silently begging Master Bernard not to make her spend time with the repulsive old man.

Rather than acknowledging her reluctance, Master Bernard concentrated solely on the pathetic figure who had opened the door. 'Could you use her for half an hour? She's yours if you want her.'

Osbourne was reaching out for Rachel's hand and, although she didn't want to be touched by him, she could see Master Bernard expected her to go with the stranger. Reluctantly she allowed her fingers to be taken in his and stepped into the sullen gloom of his room.

'You're a good boy, Bernie,' Osbourne muttered. His washed-out gaze remained fixed on Rachel as he spoke. 'You're a really good boy. If I'm ever in a position where I can repay this favour...'

'Just half an hour,' Master Bernard said quietly. He closed the door and left Rachel alone with the stranger.

It only took a blink of her eyes and she was quickly used to the eerie darkness. Light came from a TV set beside an unmade bed. The floor was hidden beneath discarded burger wrappers, empty cigarette packets and crushed beer cans. Each time she inhaled, her nostrils wrinkled with disgust as they were stung by the scents of sweat, dirt and decay.

Osbourne licked his lips appreciatively. 'You're a pretty little bitch, aren't you?' he muttered. His hand was on her breast, cupping the orb, while his aged fingers stroked one nipple. Staring down at herself Rachel didn't think she had ever had anything more repulsive caressing her flesh. 'Why has Bernie sent you down here?' he demanded. 'Have I been demoted to the position of punishment for the more wayward of his charges? Am I the bogeyman for disobedient slaves?'

She fought to keep her tone even when she replied. 'I don't know why Master Bernard has made me come here,' she said honestly.

Osbourne snatched his hand from her breast and slapped her across the face. He clearly lacked any physical strength because the blow was only humiliating. But, instinctively, she placed a hand against her cheek and glared at him with dumfounded hurt.

'You'll call me sir when you address me,' he spat. His quavering voice notched up an octave as his fury rose. 'Even a pretty little bitch like you can manage that much respect, can't they?'

She mumbled an apology, remembering to call him sir as she told him she was sorry.

The words seemed to placate him because his hand returned to her breast and he squeezed the flesh indulgently. His fingers were callused and so thin Rachel thought she was being groped by a skeletal claw. It took all her physical strength to remain standing next to him as he eagerly pawed her bare body.

'Nipple piercings,' he sighed, tugging on her chain.

Rachel flinched from the discomfort.

'How long has it been since I last saw nipple piercings?' he mused. He followed the rhetorical question with a long, phlegmatic sigh. 'And we only have half an hour,' he grumbled. 'It's barely enough time but I'm sure you'll manage.' His hand slipped from her breast and went directly to her cleft.

Rachel wanted to pull away from him but she knew Master Bernard had left her in the man's company for a reason. Containing her shivers of revulsion, she allowed her pussy lips to be teased and splayed by his hateful, bony fingers.

'I want you wetter,' he complained.

His fingers slid inside her sex, artlessly burrowing deep. They were so thin and seemingly fragile she didn't dare clench her inner muscles for fear that she might snap the bones.

'You have to get yourself wetter than that. If I'm going to ride your hole, I want you fucking sodden.'

She swallowed thickly, uncomfortably aware that he was trying to squirm his finger deeper. Trying to think past the rising tide of disgust, she asked, 'What is it that you want me to do?'

He snatched his hand from her hole and smacked his open palm against her cheek. This time he managed to land the blow with more force. The slap stunned her and she was shocked to find her vision blurred by miserable tears. It was only as an afterthought that she remembered she should have addressed him properly and Rachel cursed herself for making such a foolish mistake.

'I'm sorry,' she gasped bitterly. 'What do you want me to do, sir?'

He grunted impatient acknowledgement and said, 'I want you wetter, bitch. What do you think I want you to do? Wank yourself until your pussy's dripping.'