The Fine Art of Torture (Slave of the Aristocracy Book 3)

by Ashley Zacharias

  “I think that our dear Irene has created a most satisfactory torture for our entertainment,” the professor said.

  The other three men nodded in agreement.

  After he ushered them from the room, he returned to Irene and said, “Would you like to go to your room?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was so soft that she was hard to hear.

  After a moment of rest, she stood. She felt like she had been racked. Because she had. But she was mobile. She could stand and walk without assistance. In her room, she collapsed on top of the covers.

  “I can hardly wait to read your essay about this one,” the professor said. “We’ll leave your balance scale assembled in the studio. It is a fine addition to my collection of torture instruments.”

  Irene wished that she could feel flattered by his praise. Maybe later when her body was no longer quivering with pain.

  * * *

  Mr. B had company on his front stoop, but Mr. A was not the person sitting next to him.

  Rather, a tough-looking young girl sat with him. Her hair was cropped short in the style that was popular among working-class commoners. They disdained the effort required to work their hair up into the elaborate arrangements favored by ladies of the aristocracy, but they also had to get their hair off their neck to show that they didn’t have slave tattoos on their napes. The simple solution was to chop it off.

  This girl might well have styled her own hair with a butcher knife using her reflection in a chrome hubcap.

  She was wearing slacks and a gingham blouse. That shocked Irene more than any other aspect of the girl. Only the lowest women wore pants. Even slaves wore dresses.

  Her short nails were polished blood red. The polish was chipped so badly and had grown out so far that Irene could see her cuticles from the sidewalk. The girl’s nails had suffered rough treatment since the polish had been applied a couple of weeks earlier.

  Irene wouldn’t have been surprised if the girl had a straight razor hidden somewhere on her person. Maybe she used the razor to trim her hair.

  She looked like the perfect match for Mr. B.

  She was staring fixedly at Irene as she walked down the sidewalk. Her hostility was palpable.

  Irene planned to walk past without acknowledging Mr. B but he called out to her. “Hey, there! You looking for some action?”

  Irene was surprised that he would even acknowledge a pleasure slave when he had a girl with him, much less advertise that he was available for sex.

  “Always.” She stopped in front of the stoop.

  “This here’s Betsy.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Irene said.

  Betsy didn’t reply. She just stared aggressively at Irene. But Irene had the feeling that her aggression was feigned to conceal that she was nervous. Her foot was twitching and her blouse was damp around the armpits.

  Mr. B jerked his head in Betsy’s direction. “She wants some action, too.”

  “Does she?” Irene asked in a mild voice.

  “Sure. She likes to have a good time just like me and Avery.”

  “Tell me, Betsy, what kind of action do you want to have?”

  “She wants to have a three-way with you and me,” Mr. B said.

  “Is that right?” Irene’s question was not rhetorical. She addressed Betsy directly.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Mr. B said.

  “I was asking Betsy.”

  Betsy spoke up. “Yeah, whatever Rob says.”

  Irene could see how it was. She turned back to Mr. B. “Where are we going to do this? Isn’t your mother asleep in there?” She wasn’t going to take anyone back to the studio again. That was too dangerous.

  “We can use Avery’s room.”

  Irene remembered that his friend, who she had dubbed Mr. A, was named Avery. Now she knew from Betsy that Mr. B’s real name Rob. “Where’s Avery?”

  “Work. He got a job now. He started last Monday. Construction. He’s getting good pay. Three hundred plaqs a week.”

  That sounded like a pittance to Irene. When she had been the wife of a lord, she had owned shoes that had cost more than Mr. A would earn in a month. “Good for him,” she said.

  “So are we going to get it on?”

  Irene was as horny enough to go for a three-way that included another woman. Horny enough even to enjoy it. “Lead the way.”

  “Come on,” he told Betsy and left the stoop in the direction of Avery’s house.

  Betsy followed at her own good pace, which was none too quick. Her measured gait suggested that she was less than enthusiastic about what was coming.

  Irene followed the couple into Mr. A’s mother’s house. The front door wasn’t locked. She wondered if Mr. B had a key or if he had crawled in through a broken basement window earlier to unlock it.

  She decided that it was none of her concern. If Mr. A came home early, Mr. B could deal with him. And if Mr. A’s mother came home early, Mr. A could deal with her when he got home.

  “You stay down here and amuse yourself for a few minutes,” Irene said. “Betsy and I have some girl stuff to discuss upstairs.”

  “Don’t you go getting all hot and heavy without me,” he said.

  “Don’t worry. Our clothes are staying on until we’ve finished talking.” Irene said that more to reassure Betsy than him.

  Betsy didn’t smile or meet her eyes, but she followed her up to the bedroom.

  Mr. A was still keeping his room clean and tidy, not at all like the mess the first time she’d seen it. His mother must be pleased.

  She wondered if she was going to cross paths with Mr. A again. She hoped so. He was the nicer of the two boys.

  “Okay, Betsy,” Irene said. “First I need to know if you really want to do this?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Yeah because you want to or yeah because Rob wants you to?”

  “Because, you know, I want what Rob wants.”

  That was an unsatisfying answer, but it was probably the blunt truth. Irene had another concern. “What do you think about Rob and me having sex?”

  She shrugged. “If it’s what Rob wants.”

  “I know what he wants. I’m trying to find out what you want. You know that Rob and I have had sex before, right?” As she was saying this, she was imagining Betsy flying into a jealous rage, pulling a razor out of her pocket and lunging for her throat. But if that were going to happen, it was better now than later when she was in a more vulnerable position.

  “Yeah. He told me that you did stuff to him. Kinky stuff.”

  “Actually, he did that stuff to me but, yes, I told him what I wanted him to do. I like sex. I enjoy it.” She looked at Betsy’s face to see if she was shocking her.

  Betsy dropped her eyes.

  “Do you like sex?” Irene asked.

  Betsy nodded without looking at her.

  “You’re not a virgin, are you? It’s all right if you are, but I need to know.”

  Betsy shook her head. “I’ve had sex. I started when I was fifteen.”

  “With a lot of men?”

  “With a few.”

  “With Rob?”

  “Not with Rob. We’re not like boyfriend and girlfriend or anything. We’ve fooled around a bit, but we’ve never gone all the way. I … I didn’t know him very well before.”

  “Before when?”

  “Before a couple of weeks ago. Before he started telling some of us about all the stuff he did with you.”

  Irene should have guessed that she had become a popular topic of conversation among Mr. A’s and Mr. B’s friends.

  “Have you ever fooled around with another woman?”

  Betsy looked at Irene and shook her head slowly.

  “Have you ever kissed a woman? Felt her naked breasts? Touched her cunt?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Rob wants me to.”

  Irene sighed. “I don’t get off on women. My thing is men, not women. I really like men. But I’m
a slave. When my owner gives me an order, I do what I’m told. Sometimes my owners have ordered me to give sexual service to women so I have. I’ve done it enough to get pretty good at it. I can kiss you, caress your body, get down on my knees and bury my face in your cunt and lick you until you come. My current owner hasn’t given me any orders about having sex so I don’t have to do it to you. I won’t especially enjoy it, but I will do it if you want me to. I’ll do it just as a favor. But if you’re not going to enjoy it and I’m not going to enjoy it, then there isn’t much reason for us to do it. Do you understand?”

  She glanced at the door. “Rob would enjoy seeing it.”

  “So what? I can do lots of things that Rob will enjoy. Eating you out doesn’t have to be one of them.”

  “He wants a three-way.”

  “Exactly. There are lots of ways to do a three-way without one of us going down on the other. We can both go down on him, for example. Or you can fuck him while I play with him. We can give him a three-way without touching each other much except maybe playing a little with our breasts. There are lots of different ways that we can make him feel like the king of the bedroom.”

  Betsy was silent for a minute.

  Irene let her think.

  “I want to do it.” Betsy’s voice was so soft that Irene could barely hear her.

  “What?”

  “I want to do it. Show Rob some girl-on-girl stuff.”

  That left Irene uncertain about whether Betsy had any interest in women or if she was willing to have sex with another woman only because a man requested it. Irene knew all about having sex with another woman just because a man wanted to see it.

  “Okay, then,” Irene said. “We have to be clear about a couple of things, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  Irene turned around and lifted her hair from her neck. “This tattoo says that I’m a slave. You don’t have a tattoo. Rob doesn’t own you and you don’t have to do anything for him that you don’t want to do. If we’re doing anything that you don’t like, just say to me, ‘Why don’t you do something for Rob?’ or anything else like that. Anything that suggests that I should pay more attention to him is going to mean that you don’t want me to keep doing whatever I’m doing to you. Understand?”

  Betsy nodded. “Sure.”

  “Okay. That’s set. If you tell me to take care of Rob, I’ll stop doing whatever I’m doing to you. But Rob will never know that you asked me to stop.”

  “Okay.” Betsy looked slightly relieved.

  “The other thing that we have to get straight is that I am going to get fucked by Rob. You and Rob aren’t my owners and I’m not doing this because I owe you or Rob anything. I’m doing this because I’m so horny that I can hardly stand it. I’m not going to sit back and be the master of ceremonies for your and Rob’s pleasure. I’m going to get in there and get mine, too.”

  “Okay.”

  “So you can handle that? Seeing your boyfriend fuck me?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Whatever he is to you, he’s going to be my sex partner pretty damn soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “If you want him to fuck you, too, then I don’t have a problem with that. I can get him horny enough, quick enough to give you a good time after he’s done me. He can satisfy both of us.”

  “No. That’s all right.”

  “Are you saying that you don’t want him to fuck you?”

  “I’m saying that I don’t care. He can if he wants, but he just wants you, I’m fine with that, too.”

  Irene stared at Betsy for a moment. The younger woman fidgeted self-consciously. Her aggressive posture was long gone.

  “Do you like having sex with men?” Irene asked.

  Betsy shrugged. “I let them put it in me. They like it and I like that.”

  “How many men have put it in you?”

  “Five or six.”

  “Do you ever have an orgasm?”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Do you come? You know, the way a boy comes when he puts it in you?”

  Betsy giggled. “I don’t think that women are equipped for that.”

  “My dear, you have just as much equipment as any man. It just happens to be inside your body instead of hanging outside and waving around. When you have sex, you can feel just as good as the man does.”

  Betsy shrugged.

  “I assume that you’ve never seen another woman having sex with a man.” Few women had. Except for pleasure slaves. Pleasure slaves saw a lot of men having sex with other slaves.

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, you will today. It’s a rare treat, so watch closely and see what I do. It might give you some ideas about how to enjoy it more when you do it.”

  “Okay.”

  Or maybe, Irene thought, you really are a lesbian and you’ll find that out for sure this afternoon. Either way, Betsy was going to get an education.

  “Let’s get Rob up here, then, and get this ménage a trios happening.”

  Betsy looked puzzled by Irene’s French but understood her meaning. Irene stayed in the bedroom while Betsy went downstairs to invite Rob up.

  Irene called after her, “Tell him to bring a chair up with him.”

  Rob was carrying a kitchen chair when he came into the bedroom.

  Irene ignored him and took Betsy’s hand. She pulled her close and hugged her lightly, whispering in her ear, “Remember we can stop this any time you want and still make Rob happy.”

  Betsy hugged her tight and replied, “I want to do this.”

  Rob had taken the hint and was sitting in the chair, watching.

  Irene pushed Betsy out to arm’s length and then slowly lifted the hem of her slave housedress to reveal that she was naked underneath. Rob knew that a slave wore no underwear but it was a revelation to Betsy.

  After she pulled her dress over hear head and dropped it on the floor, she pulled Betsy back into a hug. This time, she kissed Betsy on the cheek. Betsy accepted the kiss so Irene moved to her lips and kissed her more intimately.

  Betsy’s response conveyed little enthusiasm, but it was still a response – a pursing of her lips and a slight sucking – and that was enough to signal to Irene that she should continue.

  Irene pushed away and held Betsy’s shoulder while she slipped around behind her back so that Betsy was facing Rob in the chair.

  Irene reached under Betsy’s arms to the front of her blouse and began undoing buttons slowly, beginning at the neck and working her way down.

  She was stripping Betsy for Rob’s visual pleasure.

  When the buttons were unfastened and Betsy’s blouse was hanging open, Irene slipped it off her left shoulder, baring her breast. Irene nuzzled Betsy on the newly revealed skin side of her neck.

  Rob watched Irene’s lips rather than staring at Betsy’s naked breast, making Irene wonder how much interest he actually had in Betsy.

  Irene did the same with the other side of Betsy’s blouse and then slipped it completely off. As the blouse crumpled to the floor, she reached around to caress Betsy’s small, pert breasts.

  Betsy shuddered slightly and her respiration rate increased.

  Rob stared intently, his mouth hanging open so that he, too, could draw more air.

  Irene lowered her hands to Betsy’s slacks. She had never unfastened a pair of women’s pants before. Neither ladies nor slaves wore such things. She assumed that it would unbutton and unzip in the front, the same as a man’s, but she felt nothing there but uninterrupted waistband.

  “Unfasten your pants,” Irene whispered while bringing her hands up to continue caressing Betsy’s breasts.

  Betsy reached behind to the small of her back to unhook and unzip.

  Irene sank to her knees as she drew Betsy’s pants to her ankles. She nuzzled Betsy’s buttock through her cotton panties.

  Betsy kicked off her shoes and then stepped out of her pants.

  Irene did not remove Betsy�
�s panties but rose and turned her so that they were face-to-face, presenting themselves in profile to Rob. She pressed her naked body against Betsy’s nearly equally naked body and kissed her, more deeply and intimately than before.

  Betsy did a credible job of responding to this kiss, relaxing and parting her lips. At the same time, she writhed sinuously against Irene’s hips and breasts.

  Irene couldn’t tell if she was sincere or merely pretending to want the contact, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t objecting. So Irene proceeded to the next step. She moved down Betsy’s body, kissing her neck, shoulders, breasts, and abdomen. As she passed her navel, she began drawing her panties over her hips and down her legs, reveling a surprisingly dense mat of pubic hair.

  When Irene began nuzzling between her legs, Betsy shifted her balance to part her thighs and give Irene access to her most intimate recess.

  Irene tilted her head back and pushed forward, licking as much of Betsy’s cunt as she could reach with her tongue.

  Betsy stroked her long hair, encouraging her to keep going.

  After a couple of minutes, Irene reached up and softly grabbed Betsy’s hand. She turned her head and kissed her palm and fingers, smearing them with some of the juice from the girl’s cunt.

  She rose gracefully and pulled Betsy to the bed. She sat her on the edge and then pushed her down on her back. She parted her knees and then knelt on the floor between them. Now she had full, unrestricted access to Betsy’s cunt.

  She licked the younger woman’s slit from bottom to top once, then turned to look at Rob. He had his pants unbuttoned and was pumping his cock with his fist.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” She sprang to her feet and rushed over to pull his hand away from himself. “You’ve got two women here who need that. You leave it alone.” She pulled him to his feet and dragged him back to the bed by his cock.

  Betsy had lifted her head to see what was going on.

  “He’s trying to get off without us,” Irene said. “Scoot around so that I can lie down beside you.”

  She didn’t let go of Rob’s cock. As soon as she was lying on the bed beside Betsy, she spread her knees and pulled him down on top of her, guiding him into her slick cunt.

  It felt so good to be filled by a man that she gasped in joy.