by Lee Ash
He plunged his shaft deep and, at the same time, he reached down to her bound breasts and squeezed. Shards of sweet pain erupted, spreading from the nipples and continuing until they encompassed her entire body. She opened her eyes and saw him grinning mercilessly as he buried his fingernails into the distended flesh. One pierced nipple jutted from between his index and middle fingers and, as she watched, he pressed it between his knuckles.
Almost sickened by the easy way he was able to wring pleasure from her body, Rachel closed her eyes again. She revelled in the bliss of every torment, squeezed her pussy muscles tightly around him and brought her pelvis up for his final thrust.
His shaft pulsed and the douche of his seed soaked her womb. Each tremor of his length ignited a new flurry of sensations and she screamed and sobbed through a series of shattering explosions. She couldn't understand why the pleasure seemed so profound and wondered if it had anything to do with her personal vow never to lie to a master again. The idea that she might have enjoyed a revelation - a new way of accepting her servility - was almost as warming as the eddies of bliss that rippled through her body.
Master Bernard pulled himself from her sweat-soaked frame and delivered a series of guttural commands. This time she couldn't tell if he was speaking in a language she understood because her thoughts were too fragmented to make sense of anything except the subsiding joy of her release. Opening her eyes she saw the slaves had been dismissed and she and Master Bernard were finally alone.
He lay against her, holding her in his strong embrace.
'Why can't I keep you here all the time?'
She held her breath, trying to decide if he had asked the question, or if she was only listening to a cherished hope of what he might say. 'I'm your brother's favourite,' she said quietly. Normally those words were spoken with pride but this time she could hear a definite note of regret colouring the phrase. 'He's generous enough to lend...'
'I wouldn't be generous with you if you were mine,' he broke in. 'I'd be mean and selfish. I'd keep you chained away from others and you'd only be available for my pleasure and satisfaction.'
Her heart was pounding thunderously as she guessed where he was leading. Her life as Master Vince's favourite was satisfying but she didn't doubt Master Bernard would be more attentive to her needs. The prospect of becoming his favourite was a dream she had harboured after every tarocco reading that he attended and she was amazed to hear him suggest what she had never dared to put into words.
'You'd tire of me,' she said quickly, hoping he wouldn't hear eagerness in her voice.
'I'll be an old man before I grow tired of you,' he grunted.
'I only excite you because this is forbidden,' she tried. His hand was on her lap, the fingers squirming into the sodden wetness of her sex, teasing the lips and coaxing fresh desire from her fetid warmth.
'You excite me because you're you,' he said earnestly. With an impatient gasp he snatched his hand away and turned his back on her. 'I'm wasting my time, aren't I? You have no interest in being my property. You're happier being my brother's favourite.'
The words stung and she wondered if it might be because there was a grain of truth in them. Remembering the personal vow she had just made, struggling to be honest with Master Bernard as she had promised herself she would be honest with Master Vince, she said, 'I'm happy being your brother's favourite. But I think I could be happier if I were yours.'
He turned to her and smiled, 'We must work toward that goal. What a shame we didn't have more time to discuss this but I know my brother's car will be here for you shortly.'
She knew the car was coming - the imminent end to her stay at the albergo had instigated this final, farewell liaison - and she wished they had made this discovery of their mutual desires earlier in the week. Rachel was trying to think what she should say next, searching for the words that would bring them closer to a permanent relationship, when Master Bernard broke the silence.
'I've been thinking about what we should do concerning Pearl.'
She stiffened. 'What do you think we should do?'
He clasped her hand and held it tightly. Shaking his head he said, 'I could have explained my plan if we'd only had a little more time.'
'You have a plan?' she pressed.
'I might have. But, for it to work properly, I'll need you to do a favour for me.'
She almost laughed at the polite way he broached the subject. 'A favour? For you? Of course I'll do you a favour. Just name it and consider it done.'
His smile was triumphant. 'I'll fill you in on the exact details the next time we meet,' he promised. 'But, when you're next reading the tarocco for your master, I'll want you to lie for me. And now I'm going to pass the time until the car comes by beating your tits.'
Rachel squirmed in anticipation as he fetched a crop and flexed it, gazing down fondly at her and sizing up the targets her blood-engorged tits provided.
He began by flicking at the undersides, using the leather keeper to tease and sting her as she squeezed her tits close together for him, thrusting the nipples up in mute appeal for punishment. But he made her wait until she was on the point of begging out loud before he raised the thin shaft above his head and brought it scything down across both nipples simultaneously. Rachel's body arched and her teeth clenched. Lights exploded in her brain and she felt her whole body pulse in sympathy with the agony in her tits. It was some moments before she opened her eyes and saw him still standing over her holding the crop.
'I think we've got time for a couple more, Rachel. Now hold your tits up again.'
Gasping for breath and trying to prepare herself for the next explosions she nevertheless gripped her pounding orbs once more and squeezed them up for the whip.
CHAPTER NINE
Master Bernard's parting words stayed with her on the long limousine journey home. Rachel didn't notice Jason's brooding silence as he drove, or any of the passing scenery. All she could think about was what Master Bernard had asked her to do. '...when you're next reading the tarocco for your master, I'll want you to lie for me.' The concept worried her because, although she had lied to her master once, she had never planned to do it a second time. Even when Helena came rushing to greet her, her usual happy face twisted with a foreboding frown, Rachel didn't acknowledge the warning signs. She simply allowed her aide to collect the luggage and let her struggle with the weight of both cases. Perpetually brooding over the idea of lying for Master Bernard, she didn't notice the sports car parked next to Master Vince's vehicle, or its registration B1TCH, or the thin numbers of house staff working in the corridors.
When they were ensconced in the sanctuary of Rachel's bedroom Helena finally broke the silence and made her realise something was amiss. Without bothering to close the door she dropped the luggage beside the bed and embraced Rachel tightly. 'I'm so glad you're back,' she said. 'I've missed you so badly and so much has changed this last week.'
Rachel stared at her, puzzled by the unsolicited display of affection. 'Helena?' she asked curiously. 'What's wrong?'
Helena raised her face, her eyes wet with the threat of tears. Shaking her head, she said, 'It's terrible, mistress,' she moaned. 'It's truly terrible. The worst thing possible has happened and I think your plans are falling to pieces. It was a mistake for you to lie to...'
Rachel saw movement behind the slave and slapped Helena hard across the mouth, cutting off the words before they could prove damning. She knew she had delivered the blow too sharply, the servant reeled from the blow and fell heavily to the floor, but O'Mara's appearance in the open doorway made the abrupt measure necessary.
'You've been lying, Rachel?' O'Mara smiled sweetly. She was wearing her traditional daytime garb, high heels, fishnet stockings and a black, skimpy maid's uniform. The skirt was cut so short the tops of her stockings could be seen contrasting with the milky white flesh of her upper thighs. The whole outfit was tight on her skinny frame but, rather than making her look sultry and becoming, O'Mara only looked cheap
and available. Uninvited, she stepped into the room. 'Who have you been lying to?' she asked with malevolent enthusiasm. 'Surely, you haven't been lying to Master Vince?'
'What do you want, O'Mara?'
'The master requires your presence in his chamber. He said he wanted to see you as soon as you returned.'
Glancing down at Helena, Rachel saw the servant was trying to impart some warning. She surreptitiously shook her head, shaping urgent words behind a hand that was supposedly rubbing her punished jaw, but it was impossible for Rachel to understand the full message. Turning to O'Mara she said, 'Tell the master I'll be along shortly.'
'No,' O'Mara said with quiet authority. 'I'll escort you there now.'
Rachel was tempted to argue but she could see it would be counterproductive. As much as she wanted Helena to explain the meaning behind her warnings, and learn what had been happening in her absence, she was resigned to waiting until Master Vince had finished with her. Briskly walking ahead of O'Mara, not wanting it to seem as though the mousy blonde was leading the way, Rachel tried to convince herself that Helena was fussing about nothing. House slaves were notorious for their flights of fancy, entertaining each other with outlandish gossip, and frightening themselves with stories of impending catastrophe. Admittedly, Helena wasn't usually prone to such shortcomings but Rachel couldn't imagine any situation in the master's household meriting such staunch prophecies of doom.
'Your slut said you'd been lying,' O'Mara told Rachel.
Rachel fixed her with a withering glare. 'Do you listen to other people's conversations because it compensates for no one talking to you?'
O'Mara ignored the insult, almost running to stay alongside Rachel as she marched quickly down the corridor. 'What have you been lying about? You can tell me. You know it won't go any further.'
'I told my servant there was a slave in this house who was uglier than you and even more detestable.' Smiling tightly to herself, Rachel added, 'I think Helena might have been right to call me a liar. There's no slave in this house uglier or more detestable than you.'
'You nasty bitch,' O'Mara scowled.
Grinning inwardly, not letting the amusement show on her face, Rachel said nothing. They had reached the master's chamber and she knocked three times, waited for a summons and then pushed her way inside. O'Mara remained in the corridor, mumbling epithets under her breath. Rachel didn't hear everything that was said, but she felt sure she heard the mousy blonde say something that sounded like, 'You'll get yours, you cunt.' Satisfied with the thought that she had upset the master's sly maid, Rachel was happy to close the door on her.
'Rachel!' Master Vince exclaimed cheerfully. 'You're back at last. How I've missed you.'
Although she didn't doubt he was telling the truth, Rachel didn't think he looked like he had suffered her absence to any personal degree. He was naked, mounted in the rear of an athletic raven-haired girl from the pony-stable, and riding her with cruel enthusiasm. Straps and harness adorned his ride, long strips of leather binding her breasts, and slipping up between her legs. Master Vince held the reins of all the bindings and tugged hard on them as he repeatedly pushed himself into her pussy.
A second girl from the stables stood in attendance by the side of the bed and Rachel could see this one was dressed with identical restraints and eagerly waiting to be summoned for use. Like all the master's pony girls, this one was also dark-haired and blessed with an identical, athletic build. The only thing that marked her as being any different was the modification that had been made to her pussy lips.
Rachel groaned inwardly when she caught sight of the woman's bulging labia. She had dimly hoped that her master might have ceased his dealings with Pearl while she had been away from the estate. It would have solved so many of her problems if the master had simply grown bored with the woman and discarded her in the same way he threw aside used slaves. The sight of the pony girl's swollen pussy lips told Rachel that the business relationship between Master Vince and Pearl remained steadfast.
'Use your pussy muscles to squeeze my cock, bitch,' Master Vince instructed his ride. 'Squeeze me as hard as you fucking can.'
The slave grimaced with effort and her expression was parodied in Master Vince's frown of contentment. The slave bore each brutal penetration with a tightening smile and it was only the fine film of sweat peppering her brow that told Rachel she was exerting herself. She quietly admired the pony girl's conditioning, envious of the woman's ability to endure her suffering without displaying upset. The straps around each breast looked punishingly tight and Master Vince pulled viciously on them. Familiar with most of the practices on the estate, Rachel knew the lengths of leather that went between the pony girl's legs would have been threaded through her labial piercings. Each time Master Vince pushed forward he tugged hard on the reins. The slave's breasts were torn in conflicting directions and her sex lips were mercilessly pulled and tormented.
Rachel walked to his side and, unmindful that he was engrossed in sliding repeatedly into the slave, she gave him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Unable to stop herself, she placed a hand against his bare chest and felt the familiar rapid thump of his hastened heartbeat. The contact was always reassuring and she smiled, thankful to be back in his commanding presence.
He seemed oblivious to the caress and more focused on ploughing greedily into the slave beneath him. His thick shaft slid easily between the split of the slave's sex and, each time he pulled out, Rachel could see his length was coated with a glossy smear of the pony girl's arousal. As she had known they would be the reins were threaded through bridle clips biting into the slave's labia and each sharp pull dragged cruelly on the sensitive skin. Perversely, the punishment seemed to make the raven-haired girl more aroused and, with every vicious tug, her pussy grew distinctly wetter. Rachel watched the anomaly with a mixture of disgust and dark-green envy.
Master Vince glanced sharply at Rachel and asked, 'How did my brother treat you?'
'Your brother is always fair and genial,' she replied. Unable to hide her adoration for her master, she added, 'It must be a family trait.'
He laughed and rode himself harder into his mount. Holding the reins in one hand he snatched a riding crop from the side of the bed and used it to slap the slave's thighs. The sharp kiss of the crop echoed crisply from the walls of the bedchamber and each shot left a blazing red weal in its wake. Rachel could almost feel the wicked blows as they resounded more loudly than the sound of the running shower in the neighbouring en-suite.
The pony girl grimaced at the unjust punishment but made no other complaint as the master continued to slide himself in and out with quickening thrusts. She bore her torment with stalwart dignity until he dropped the crop, pulled harder on the reins, and forced himself deeper for the rush of his climax. His entire body convulsed with his orgasm, his pelvis repeatedly battering into the pony girl's buttocks and he held her on his length until the final spurt had been shot from his shaft. Chuckling with satisfaction, he slapped her backside as a sign of good-natured approval and then pushed the slave from his spent length.
A dribble of his semen oozed from the dark pink split of her sex but, aside from the slight tremor that shook her body when she tried to stand up, the pony girl looked otherwise unmoved by the bout of passion. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved more rapidly than for normal respiration but they were the only signs of what she had been through.
Master Vince plucked a sugar lump from a bowl on the dressing table and held it out for the slave to take. She lowered her mouth over his fingers, accepted the treat, then followed his instruction when he told her to go back to the stables. As she slipped through the door, Rachel saw O'Mara was still standing there and guessed the mousy blonde was hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation. The observation didn't worry her too greatly because she doubted O'Mara would be able to hear through the thick doors that secured the master's bedchamber.
He lay back on the bed and encouraged Rachel to join him. 'Get me hard again
so I can fuck this one,' he said, nodding at the slave with the bulging pussy lips.
'Of course,' Rachel said, climbing to his side. She knew his needs well enough so her hand didn't immediately reach for his flaccid length. Instead, she pressed her body close to his and stroked the smooth skin of his chest. Since returning to the house there hadn't been the opportunity to change out of her clothes and into her ermine robe and she relished the unfamiliar sensation of feeling his body through layers of fabric and the constraints of lingerie. Her stocking-clad thighs created a surreal frisson of electricity when she rubbed her legs against his and, although the clothes were restrictive, she found they added to her excitement.
After chasing circles around his nipples, teasing the tiny beads of flesh until they stood hard, she trailed her fingers slowly downward. Exploring the tight muscles of his six-pack, Rachel was pleased to see his spent length was already beginning to twitch. His stamina was legendary on the estate and his appetites bordered on the insatiable, yet it continually pleased her when she was able to coax the stiffness back into his limp length.