Sins of the Master

by Catherine Taylor

  She nodded mournfully. “Because it’s the worse pain on earth.”

  “You should have remembered that before you decided to be reckless and dangerous, putting your safety at risk, and that of others.”

  “What if I promise to remember next time? Can we forget the paddle?”

  “No,” James grinned. “Because that very paddle has done wonders for both your memory and your behaviour. We’ll stick to what works.”

  He gave her a last pat before helping her up. “Go and have your shower.”

  As she hurried off, James watched her until her beautiful red arse disappeared from view. He pulled a memory chip from his pocket. Returning to the kitchen, he inserted it into his laptop and waited until the files came up. He chose the video file and set it to play.

  The black and white image revealed the very moment their intruder had seen the camera. The startled expression was obvious, before the man quickly turned away and strode out of range. James stood back, frowning. It only took a few seconds to remember where he had seen that face. It was the man from the club with the girl, Adele or Greta, whatever her name was.

  Picking up his phone, he made a call. Three rings and a voice which simply asked for a name.

  “James Vaughn,” he replied and hung up.

  He replayed the footage, trying to calm his rising frustration of what he was seeing and what it meant.

  The phone rang and the private number alerted him to the caller. “Hey, Dylan.”

  “What can I do for you, James?” Dylan asked.

  “Mairead confessed to what happened with Esther. That, after she chased a man from our house this morning and confronted him out on the street.” He took a breath. “He grabbed her and got rough with her, and then let her go and took off.”

  “Is Mairead alright?”

  “She was shaken up, but mostly angry at herself for going after him. Dylan, the same man was at the club on New Year’s Eve. We possibly have a stalker on our hands.”

  “Send me the footage and I’ll see what I can do. She didn’t get a name, did she?”

  “He dropped a card when he grabbed her. He’s some car salesman from Australia called Brendan North.”

  There was a long pause before Dylan answered. “Would you mind if I came by today and spoke to Mairead? I’d like to hear it from her about this other car that followed her and Esther.”

  “That’s a long way to come just to talk.”

  “Yeah, but I think a few things need discussing.”

  “Just don’t be too hard on her,” James said. “I know she fucked up with Esther in the car, and I’m sorry, but she’s still has a lot to deal with. I got a call from her lawyer, earlier this week. Barry Underhill met with a fatal accident, or so they’re saying. I foolishly decided to keep that news from her, which makes me somewhat of a hypocrite.”

  “I had wondered if you’d heard,” Dylan said. “The news of Underhill’s demise had reached me recently, and I also thought it was best left unsaid, at least until I find the truth behind it.”

  “You don’t think it was an accident any more than I do.”

  “No. but I think it’s time we all put our cards on the table. I’ve had a few incidents recently. Something’s going on and I wouldn’t be surprised if Adele was behind it. That girl just doesn’t learn her lesson, something like another girl I know.”

  James grinned. “Just remember, Mairead has taught us both a few things in the past.”

  “I’m just going to talk,” Dylan assured him. “I’ll leave the discipline up to you.”

  * * * * *

  Mairead vigorously rubbed herself dry with a towel, trying not to think about what was coming. The shower had certainly heightened her arousal, even without her hands straying, but it was competing with a sense of trepidation.

  Emerging from the bathroom, she took a moment to sit on the bed, feeling the nervous anticipation seeping through her. She was startled by a low buzz and looked to see that her cell phone was vibrating on the bedside cabinet. Another mistake. Her phone was supposed to be switched off. James tolerated no distractions during a time when she was supposed to be pondering her sins.

  She ignored it, but in seconds it had started again. Someone was urgent to get hold of her. Making a dash to the bedroom door, she opened it enough to see if James was near. There was no sign of him and she quickly ran back to her phone.

  Checking the call log, she saw that her father had rung and quickly returned the call, promising herself it would be less than a minute.

  When Sean Kavanagh answered, her face lit up. “Hello, Daddy.”

  “How’s my baby girl?” His voice was always loud and full of affection.

  “I’m great,” she lied. “Is everything alright?”

  “I was just calling to let you know that Joanne and I will be in Wellington on Tuesday and we want to spend a day with you. How does that sound?”

  Mairead beamed. “It sounds wonderful. I can’t wait, but I have to…”

  “I’ll be in Parliamentary meetings for the rest of the week and so Tuesday is yours. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Daddy, but…”

  “I thought if it was a nice day, we could go down to the harbour and have a look at that bloody big boat parked in our waters. Have you seen it?”

  “No, Daddy, but I…”

  “Three hundred and forty million dollars. A super yacht owned by some Russian billionaire. He’s been buying up some bloody big chunks of the South Island for the last few years and a lot of people aren’t happy about it, but he’s throwing plenty of money about to get his own way.”

  “Yes, Dad, but I…”

  “That’s the thing about this job, you can’t please everyone. I’m just glad I’ll be out of it soon. I’m seriously thinking of making this my last year in Parliament.”

  Mairead was immediately concerned. “Are you alright, Daddy?”

  He chuckled. “I’m fine, princess, just had a gutful and with an election next year, I just don’t feel up to doing it all again. Thirty years in this job, it’s time for something a little less stressful.”

  Another thought occurred to her. “Daddy, did you ever know a woman who worked at the Beehive called Mary Whittaker?”

  “Mary? What on earth did you want to know about her?”

  “I just came by a story about her today. I was intrigued.”

  “Mary was an intriguing woman. Are you talking about her death in Paris?”

  “Yes, and the other business, about a newspaper and a journalist being sued for defamation.”

  “That nonsense,” Sean grumbled. “The whole thing was poppycock. The bloody fool reckons he saw her in some city car park, standing there, stark naked, meeting up with someone. Never heard anything more ridiculous in my life.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Apparently a man pulled up in a car, got out and… well, it wasn’t very nice what that reporter said about her. Mary was nothing like that. He deserved to be sued.”

  “So you knew her well?”

  “As much as anyone, I guess. She was a little odd, but highly intelligent. In a few short years, she went from being assistant to the Clerk of the House, to director of our Intelligence network.”

  “So what happened in Paris?”

  “Mairead,” he chided. “You don’t want to be reading about that business. It was terrible.”

  “I’m fine, Daddy,” she insisted. “I already know she was murdered. I just wondered if you could shed any light on how or who or anything.”

  She heard his deep sigh.

  “She was beaten and stabbed, as far as I remember, and they never found who did it. What are you up to, Mairead? What’s this about?”

  “Just curious from some reading I was doing. Apparently the journalist took a picture of that meeting. Did you ever see it?”

  “I saw it. The picture didn’t get printed in the paper, but a lot of us saw it when it came up for trial.”

 
“And was it her?”

  “The photo was too dark. There was a resemblance, but anyone who knew Mary, knew she wasn’t capable of doing anything like that. She certainly wouldn’t get herself involved with any man like that one.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, he was one of those biker type of fellows, tall and muscly, longish hair with tattoos all over his arms.”

  “So they didn’t find out who he was?”

  “The Master,” Sean chuckled. “Apparently, she was calling him ‘Master’ which just shows you how ridiculous it all was. North had been at the pub drinking and obviously came across a working girl playing out someone’s sick fantasy and assumed it was Mary in his drunken state.”

  Mairead was gasping silently. “And she definitely called him Master?”

  “Yes, and I can’t imagine any woman wanting to debase herself like that, let alone Mary.”

  “How would I see that picture, Daddy?”

  “First you tell me why all this sudden interest in Mary?”

  “Wow, Daddy,” Mairead grinned. “I think you would be supportive of me taking an interest in politics.”

  “You’ve been reading all that conspiracy nonsense in the paper of late, haven’t you, about spies and such. It’s rubbish, Mairead. Save your energy.”

  “At least I’m reading,” she replied, happy to agree with his theory.

  Mairead would have fired out several more questions, had her name not been spoken so irately at that moment. She turned to see James glaring at her.

  “I have to go, Daddy. I love you and I will see you on Tuesday.”

  She hung up before he could speak again and she bit her lip before turning back to her angry husband. Just the sight of him sent a shiver through her body.

  “Daddy rang,” she offered timidly. “I thought it might be important.”

  “And was it?” His eyes bored into her.

  “Daddy and Joanne will be in Wellington on Tuesday. They want to spend the day with me.”

  “And that’s something you could have learned later in the day, not during the time you were supposed to be following my instructions. Why wasn’t your phone switched off?”

  “I forgot.”

  “Obviously,” he replied, beginning to unbuckle his belt. “Lay back on the bed, bring your knees right back and hold them.”

  Mairead whimpered quietly as she complied. She watched James slip the belt from his jeans.

  “Hold that position,” he told her. “Move and we start again.”

  With that, his belt lashed across the tight curve of both cheeks, biting into her savagely. Mairead yelled and gritted her teeth as the belt thrashed her again. This time it curled about one cheek, with the tip striking her exposed anus, eliciting a whole new degree of pain.

  She howled and groaned, fighting the urge to roll out of harm’s way. The third lash was delivered to the tender crease where her bottom curved into her thighs. Two more followed to the back of her thighs.

  James bent over her, his face hardened with determination. “What happens to your phone during punishment time?”

  “It gets switched off,” she whimpered.

  “Exactly.” He pushed down on her thighs and delivered three more lashes across her bottom, before looking at her again. “Are you going to remember that next time?”

  She nodded miserably. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.” He sat down and watched her roll over onto her side, her face wincing at her pain. “Are you deliberately trying to get yourself in trouble today?”

  “No. I just forgot about my phone, and then I got talking with Daddy and…” She hung her head miserably. “I’m sorry, James.”

  A smile crept over his face. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Trade me in on a wife who knows how to behave herself.”

  “And where would the fun be in that? Spanking that little bare bottom of yours is one of the highlights of my day.”

  “Mine too.” She grinned but quickly adopted a remorseful expression. “Just knowing that I’m going to be taught some valuable lessons.”

  “Yeah, right,” James chuckled, but his mirth also faded. “Baby, I need to talk to you about something. Can we go out to the lounge?”

  “As soon as I pee,” she gasped, jumping up from the bed. “I’ll be right out.”

  Mairead hurried to the bathroom and seized a defiant moment to rub her stinging buttocks, before sitting gingerly on the toilet.

  She thought of what her father had told her about Mary’s mysterious encounter, and she shook her head in disbelief. To contemplate that Dylan might have been her Master was too incredible and yet entirely plausible. He was weird, had a flair for the dramatic and fitted the description perfectly. It also answered the question why a car salesman from Australia had taken an interest in her.

  Mairead knew Dylan wouldn’t be pleased she was privy to that information, but it might provide a little fun, ribbing him for being so careless and being caught out.

  It was the second part of that story that wasn’t funny. The same woman had been murdered six years later. She had to wonder how much Dylan knew about that.

  Flushing the toilet, she frowned at the wet cotton panties sitting on the vanity. Reluctantly she pulled them on, sighing with pleasure as the cold, wet material soothed her welted bottom. It was a deceiving reprieve, knowing the same cold and wet would give the paddle an extra vicious bite. Sometimes she suspected James had a sadistic streak, but she wasn’t about to protest.

  A few minutes of paddling would reduce her to a bawling mess, but once it was over, she could start afresh, and James might even be persuaded into a little fun in a few hours. He would at least comfort her and remind her how much she was loved. She could never get enough of that.

  Her mood had lifted by the time she wandered back to the lounge, carrying the paddle and trying to be brave and contrite at the same time. James was sitting on the couch, leaning forward, clasping his hands and frowning. He smiled as he saw her and stood up, sighing as he noticed the paddle.

  “Baby, I think we’re done today. The last thing I want is for you to be in tears and me feeling like a prick for hurting you.”

  Mairead frowned at this sudden development. “It’s alright. I know I deserve it.’

  “No.” He shook his head. “You deserve to be happy and I’m finding it harder to keep you that way.”

  “Don’t say that. You are my happiness. I am never resentful when you punish me, unless I don’t deserve it.” She grinned. “And a few times when I can’t perform, because I’ve got bruises on my butt.”

  James wasn’t smiling. “Baby, we need to talk.” He led her to the couch and they sat down. “I’ve just seen the footage from our security camera. I’m fairly certain the man you chased this morning was at the club on New Year’s Eve. Do you remember the girl you spoke with in the alley?”

  Mairead frowned. “Greta, from Ukraine.”

  “He was probably her client, or she had a thing for loud, abusive, older men. Mairead, he didn’t call her Greta. He called her Adele.”

  “No.” Mairead shook her head. “We talked about our names, and hers was definitely Greta, and if she was a sex worker, it’s no big deal. We have great friends who work the sex industry. I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

  “I don’t either, but I’m wondering if she came out to you on Brendan’s instruction. I mean, I’m glad I came out when I did.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. She didn’t know I was there. I approached her and if she was with that prick, I can’t imagine she was having a very good night.”

  James nodded. “You’re probably right, but why call her Adele?”

  “I don’t know. He probably read something in the paper and tried to stir you up. The fact there were a few racial similarities between Greta and Adele might have amused his bigoted mind.”

  “So why was he here this morning?”

  “I don’t know,” Mairead snapped, jumping up f
rom the couch. She paced about, picking at her fingernails. “Probably because he’s a sick, perverted creep, which just shows you how stupid I was to chase him.”

  James got up and took her hand. “It’s alright, baby. We’re just talking and I’m trying to be upfront with you. Can we sit down again?”

  Mairead nodded, frowning as they took their seats. James took both her hands.

  “I love you, and you’re safe and nobody is ever going to hurt you again. I have other news which I should have told you immediately, but we were having a great day and I didn’t want to spoil it. Ron called me earlier this week.”

  The mention of her lawyer had Mairead’s skin prickling, but she tried to laugh it off. “Let me guess. Adele has found a loophole in the law saying pole dancers are fair game for contract killers.”

  “No, but it is about Barry Underhill.”

  Mairead felt a surge of fear. “He’s out of prison, isn’t he?”

  “No, baby. He had an accident.” James gripped her hands tighter. “Mairead, Barry is dead.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “That’s not true.”

  “It is.”

  “Barry’s dead?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, he is.”

  “How?”

  “Apparently he slipped in the prison bathroom and cracked his skull, fatally.”

  Mairead smirked bitterly. “In other words, someone knocked him off.”

  “We don’t know that,” James insisted. “And if they did, it has nothing to do with us. Underhill was a prick and probably had a long list of enemies.”

  She nodded, confused over why she felt so upset. “I suppose that should be a relief. I don’t know why it isn’t.”

  James smiled. “You stopped me from killing him once, moments after he had tried to kill you. I’ve never seen a vindictive bone in your body or seen you take pleasure in anyone’s downfall. Since Adele was arrested, you haven’t spoken a word against her, after all the hell she put you through. You’re incredibly forgiving person, and today I want you to accept a little forgiveness for yourself.”