by Tesni Morgan
It had scared him shitless!
As usual he had hidden behind a devil-may-care attitude, playing the hard man. But to see her drooling over David had made him see red. He knew the man’s reputation and had seen him in action. Laurette Upton and David Farlan were a couple of shrewd operators, not caring who they hurt in their determined drive to reach the top of their particular tree. He had tried to ignore the feelings he had for Carenza, but had yielded to the temptation to see how matters stood between them and if she felt that bond that drew him to her.
Now he was angry because he’d failed again. It was glaringly obvious that she disliked him and was at David’s beck and call.
He swung around to Clem. “Oh, fuck it! Let’s go and get drunk.”
“And pick up a couple of broads?”
“Why the hell not?”
* * * * *
“Ah, there you are.” David advanced toward Carenza when she walked into the drawing room. “Having a good time?”
“Yes, thank you.” She felt like a little girl at a birthday party. What was it with men? They were either too crude or too patronizing.
“You look gorgeous.” He was so smooth after Matt’s roughness that she could feel herself turning into a pink blancmange. “A credit to Beyond Enterprise. I know you’ll do me proud.”
“Thank you.” She was lost for words. It was a wonderful feeling to be singled out by this important, distinguished-looking guy. Laurette was hard at it entertaining Max Reinhart, and it seemed as if they stood alone in the splendid room, though there was chatter and laughter and music all around them. She encouraged this sensation to drown out memories of the disturbing Matt, his words, his touch and the whole overwhelming virility of the man.
David’s handsome face became watchful. “Would you like to see the rest of my domain?”
“I’d love to.” What she really meant was—I’d love to be alone with you, to revert to how I felt about you until Matt kissed me.
“Let’s go then. I’ll take you on a conducted tour.”
“What about your guests?”
“They’re getting steadily plastered, and Laurette will handle them and the Reinharts will be leaving soon.”
Conducted tour it was. What a place! Gothic in the extreme. David led her up the stairs and along passages, his hand touching her shoulder, fingers caressing her bare arm, then going down to the small of her back. He had keys with him and opened locked doors, flicked switches and illuminated his kingdom. It was impressive. Lamps glowed on sumptuous brocades, on treasures purchased with the house or acquired through auction sales or by agents instructed to unearth treasures. He had the money and the knowledge to do it, recognizing precisely what piece complemented what and which period went with which.
Yet the atmosphere was empty, like the Egyptian rooms in the British Museum. They didn’t ring with laughter and life like a real home should. A showplace, maybe, but it needed children to enliven it. Mine and his? Carenza questioned herself, making allowance for the drinks.
Now they were descending slowly and here the furniture was shrouded in dust covers, the mirrors spotted, the gilt tarnished and the whole area needing a thorough spring cleaning.
“I don’t share this part with many visitors.” David’s voice echoed in the stone corridor. “I like its feeling of antiquity—of old happenings long ago trapped within these walls, murder, maybe, or the imprisonment of disobedient wives, even infanticide. Who knows its secrets?”
Carenza’s quick imagination conjured horrific scenes and she shuddered. His arm tightened around her. “You’re not afraid, are you, my dear? Not afraid of me, by any chance? Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she faltered, but wasn’t convinced.
“Good. Then you’ll do as I say, won’t you?”
“It depends what it is.”
“Ah, naughty, naughty.” He wagged a finger at her. “A good slave obeys her master in everything, asking no questions.”
“Slave! Are you for real?” This is a dream, she thought.
His face was shadowed in the dim light that planed his cheekbones and made fans of his lashes against the eye sockets. He looked demonic or maybe angelic, and she didn’t know whether to run or submit. But slave? She was a modern, emancipated woman, wasn’t she? No one’s slave!
Then he intrigued her again. “I’m going to take you to another part. First, I shall blindfold you.”
“You bloody well won’t!” She forgot to be ladylike.
“Tut! Tut!” He clicked his tongue and looked pained, then giving her no time to protest, seized her wrists, drew them behind her back and snapped on a pair of cuffs.
“What the hell are you doing?” Her protest was in vain.
He wrapped a scarf around her eyes, her hair catching as he knotted it firmly. Fear shot along her nerves, but excitement clenched her pussy. David lifted her and put her over one broad shoulder, his arm under her buttocks, the other across her back as she dangled, head down, unable to see anything. He was carrying her now, and she heard the sliding noise of a panel drawn back and felt a cold, damp draft of air rising from somewhere below. Then he was descending and she was afraid he might drop her, leaving her in some dank hole where she would never be found. Maybe years later archaeologists might stumble across her, puzzled as to how this chained and bound female skeleton came to be there.
His pace changed. They had reached the bottom, wherever that might be. He shifted her into a more comfortable position and moved on. The smell was different, still musty, but spiced with perfume, as if incense smoldering nearby. Matt had mentioned a family vault and her skin crawled. She sensed that they were now in a room, and David set her down on her feet, holding her steady while he took off the blindfold.
She opened her eyes, blinking in the dim, concealed lighting that threw a glow toward the low, vaulted ceiling. A forest of massive pillars upheld it. Gray stone walls. Gray stone flagged floor, slightly sloping. It stretched away into the shadows, but she could see grilled doors of what looked like cells and a massive rack with cogs and pulleys and what she remembered from history books as an iron maiden. It was like an upright coffin, but its lid was fitted with knives by which the unfortunate captive was stabbed to death when it closed. There was a whipping post and a pillory and hooks from which dangled canes, whips, flails and every instrument for flogging that could possibly be imagined.
“What is this horrible place?” She would have fallen if David hadn’t put an arm ‘round her.
“The dungeon, a part of the old keep.” He led her farther inside. “It was where captured enemies were held for interrogation. A torture chamber and prison. I was going to turn it into a wine cellar, but it had so much potential that I decided to restore it.”
“Potential for what?” Carenza stared around her fearfully. She caught an echo of the past, hearing screams and groans and pleas for mercy.
“I hold parties down here sometimes, for a few intimates.”
“Parties? On Halloween night?”
“Any night when the spirit moves.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh, come on. Even you must have heard of the enhancement of pleasure through pain.” There was a harsh note in his voice and his face was set in stern lines.
“Of course I have. Vicky talks about it, but I’ve never taken part.” She was ashamed that he might think her naïve. “You have set this up to indulge in these fantasies?”
“I make the fantasies reality. Let me introduce you.”
“Don’t touch me!” She was shocked but curious. What would it feel like? Why were there so many people who actually enjoyed being dominated? Was it a huge turn-on?
“I give the orders ‘round here. Not you, slave-slut.” She didn’t like him calling her that. One thing she had never been was sluttish and she didn’t want to be any man’s slave.
She was acutely aware of the smell of incense and his expensive aftershave, and jumped as he reached around, removed her cuffs and unz
ipped her dress, letting it fall in a foaming puddle at her feet. It was as if he had put a spell on her and she couldn’t stop his invasion of her privacy, but she knew that in reality she wanted him to do it. Her panties followed and she kicked them away. Now she was naked except for her garter belt, stockings and high-heeled shoes. Every forbidden dream she had ever indulged in rose to the surface, including the pretence that she was being observed by an audience as she climaxed.
He half dragged, half carried her to the crosspiece. His erection was pressed against her thigh and she thought that at any moment now he was going to enter her. She was wrong. He lifted her high and pulled her arms over her head. There was a sharp, metallic click as he snapped manacles around her wrists and fastened them to a hook. Then he parted her legs and she felt the harsh metal chaffing her ankles as they were tethered to the wood. Spread-eagled, she was absolutely helpless.
“I’ll scream if you hurt me.” She was excited, her heart banging in her chest and yet she so much regretted coming there, longing for someone to interrupt—Joanna or Vicky and most of all, Matt. Being here with David was proving to be far from her expectations.
“In that case, I’ll gag you. No one will hear you anyway, there’s too much noise going on and we’re far underground.” He stood back to admire her. “You look quite perfect, like a vestal virgin ready for sacrifice.” He took up a camera and clicked, the flash dazzling her. He clicked again. “These will enhance my collection.”
“You can’t do that without my permission.” Her voice was shaking.
“I can do anything I want. You are my slave and slaves have no say. I order you to call me master.”
“You what? Are you mad?”
“This is my rule and you’ll follow it.”
She tried to control her emotions. “Right. Game’s over. You’ve had your fun. Now let me go.”
For answer he slipped a finger between her lower lips. “You’re very ready for me,” he murmured, and his touch was intrusive but pleasurable. He drew out her moisture and anointed her clitoris, from the root to the tip, repeating the stroke again and again until she was trembling. But it was Matt who had made her wet, out there on the terrace, not David. Matt who had left her unsatisfied.
David withdrew with unexpected suddenness, and she cried out, “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop!”
“You want to come?” He sucked her nipples, his tongue rough enough to add to her arousal. “You want to come very badly?”
“You know I do! Give me an orgasm!” She had almost reached the incandescent surge that would carry her to the stars and blessed relief. It didn’t much matter who did it.
“You dare demand anything of me?” He snatched a crop from the wall and brought it down across her thighs with resounding force.
The pain was appalling, a white heat that burst throughout her body, searing and tearing. He struck her again, his face dark, his cock stretching the midnight velvet trousers.
“Ah, no more! I’m sorry. Let me go! I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Haven’t you forgotten something? What did I tell you to call me?”
“M-master!”
“That’s right. Good slave.”
David put down the whip and plunged a hand under her. He moved his finger gently, exploring her swollen parts, then licked them as if enjoying a treat. She was roused to such a pitch that she moaned and writhed, struggling to reach her climax. He was making her wait, drawing out the process almost unbearably. He stroked her clit, then rapped on it. His touch was sometimes rough, sometimes smooth and gentle, and he brought her to the edge again and again, then held off, letting her fire die down and almost driving her crazy.
She forgot that she was chained, forgot everything except the all- consuming need for release. He mastered her, controlled her, took her to the peak then stopped just before she reached it. His hands, his mouth, were all used with consummate art, lifting her up the slippery slope, then letting her slide back down before she reached completion. Her labia and clit felt fiery and swollen—she was almost there—so very nearly there.
“Whip me again, if that’s what you want.” She was mad with frustration. “Use me, abuse me but stop torturing me like this.”
“You are learning, slave. I knew from the very first moment I saw you that you’d beg me to beat you.” He unzipped and rolled on a condom. He brought his engorged penis to her wet, aching vulva, pushing it in an inch or two, while she nearly died with ecstasy, expecting a solid humping. But, no—he slipped it out again.
“Ah…ah.” She moved her head from side to side, and moved her hips in a vain attempt to reach him.
He chuckled, pushed his cock inside her briefly, in and out, a few deep thrusts, and though this felt wonderful, it was her clit that needed attention. He rubbed it, toyed with it and, finally she became cunning, hiding the moment when she was reaching orgasm, never letting him know that she was beyond recall until it happened, a sudden, violent explosion.
“Damn! You sly little bitch!” He unchained her, laid her on the floor and straddled her face, thrusting his cock into her mouth and coming with a violence that betrayed the rigid control he had been exerting.
Carenza turned to one side. She was full of contradictions, wanting him, hating him. David got up, dropped the rubber to the floor and fastened his pants. He held out a hand to her and she stood on shaky legs, her thighs stinging from the whip, bruised and battered.
She struggled silently into her undergarment and dress. There was nothing she could say. She’d had David, but not as she had imagined it would be. Disillusion was setting in, and yet he still fascinated her and she wanted to find out more about his sexual predilections and what made him tick. He had lost interest in her or so it seemed.
“I’m going to my room.” She was now dressed.
He looked at her. “Can you find your way?”
This took the wind right out of her sails. She faced him full-on, anger forming a red mist before her eyes. “No, I can’t. You brought me down here and you can fucking well get me back again. You beat me and put your dick in my mouth and now you’re going to walk away?”
He gripped her upper arm and pulled her against his hard body, his voice low and menacing. “Slaves ask for nothing. They are grateful for what they get. I’m your master, remember? But, as you’re a stranger here, I’ll be generous this time and show you where to go.”
His arrogance floored her, but within her ran a pulse of excitement. She had had him, after a fashion, and wanted more.
Chapter Seven
It was rather like the condemned prisoner’s last meal. The caterers had pulled out all the stops. There was a full English breakfast with crispy bacon, sausages, tomatoes, fried bread and baked beans, hot buttered toast, also cereal and organic everything for the vegetarians and those on a diet. It was accompanied by tea, coffee and fruit juice. There were no complaints, not about that, anyway.
Vicky had a lot to say concerning other matters, however. “I can’t take my car,” she fumed, fetchingly dressed in jogging pants, a string vest, the last word in trainers and an army jacket with innumerable pockets.
“Why not?” Joanna was attired in a similar high-street fashion version of military gear.
“Matt says no one can. We’re to be driven in off-road vehicles because there are mere tracks in some places and so that nobody takes it into his or her head to fuck off halfway through. It’ll be like a prisoner of war camp.”
“Something upsetting you, babe?” Clem was mouthing an orange stick from side to side between his lips as he ambled across to her.
“Fucking stupid rules and regulations.” Vicky heaved one of the several suitcases she had intended to take. “These have to go back to my room, and I’m only allowed one bag. It’s a stupid television program, that’s all, not Scott’s expedition to the North Pole!”
“You’re beginning to sound like what’s-her-name, Laurette Upton. She’s taken troublemaking to a whole new plateau.”
/> This pulled her up short. “Me? I’m not in the least like her.”
“I hope not. You seem a tough cookie to me.” This was praise indeed, coming from him.
Carenza smiled at his guile. She was accepting her lot, wearing sensible jeans, a denim waist-hugger and thick-soled Doc Martens. Vicky changed immediately, fired by the mention of Laurette. She didn’t want to be put in her category. She became cheerful, very nearly helpful and acting the part of all-out Nature Girl. Joanna followed her lead and for the moment anyway they were obedient members of the expedition. Carenza didn’t have to put on an act. She was actually looking forward to pitting herself against the elements. Not that there were many of these about. The air was warm and humid, its almost narcotic atmosphere inducing a feeling of lethargy.
At last everyone clambered aboard and the wagons hit the trail. Carenza had been hoping that David would be there to say goodbye to her, but he was in confab with Matt, Clem and the other men in charge, while Eddie monopolized his attention. She was very confused after last night’s events with both Matt and David, and needed reassurance, but this wasn’t forthcoming from either of them. On the verge of tears, she sat in the back of the leading truck. It was stuffy in there, but Vicky and Joanna were having a whale of a time, flirting with all.
The countryside was spectacular, woods and hills and the sea sparkling in the far distance. A holiday atmosphere prevailed. It seemed that most of the scenery was a part of the Tretowyn estate. The organizers had been right about the roads or lack of them. The trucks bounced over ruts and the FWDs were put through their paces.
“Jesus! How much further?” Joanna complained after an hour of this. “I need a pee and a coffee, in that order.”
“Hang on in there, lady.” A wide grin split the rugged face of Fred, the driver. “I’ve orders not to stop until we get there. You’ll just have to cross your legs.”