“You are very beautiful,” he said. “I can see why Thad would want you for himself. He must be hurting to have you need me right now.”
“He’d never say that,” Kate replied, anticipation brewing fast between her legs. She wore a summery dress with purple, pink and yellow flowers strewn down the front, just enough to make it difficult to see through the filmy fabric—except when she stood in the sunlight. Then, the silhouette of her body appeared so a gazing man could smile with pleasure, just as Vitorio gazed at her now. He could tell without using his hand to feel her body that she had nothing on underneath. On her feet were bright pink, high-heeled summer sandals, and her mouth was brushed with pale pink lipstick. Her face glowed with a natural beauty shining from beneath her slight make-up, while her long tresses of golden brown hair cascaded to her shoulders. Her appearance seemed to please this master, as often as he’d run his hand through her hair admiringly.
When they came to the center of the garden, they moved into the shade under a vine-covered arbor. Kate thought she smelled honey-suckle or something quite like it in the air. The strength of the aroma almost stung her nostrils. He touched her so lightly, and with each touch she shivered, rivulets of sensation moving rapidly through her, all of them settling in her unsettled belly. She was intensely fearful of how he’d punish her, how he’d mold her as she desired to be molded. He was a man of extremes—obvious now considering the utter gentleness he displayed. It would have been far easier if he had rudely thrust her to the ground and whipped her ass savagely. This kindness brewed anxiety she could hardly handle.
He was talking of his roses that made a lush garden about the arbor. He’d won several local contests and vowed he’d show her his ribbons when he had the chance. “I enjoy pleasure, Kate,” he said, “in all its many forms. Perhaps it surprises you to know that I’m not solely a ruthless ass.”
She didn’t reply, but looked into his eyes, realizing that she’d never really noticed them before. They were a deep cinnamon brown, ones that gleamed overcast in gold. Perhaps it was the summer light, the glow of the golden meadows and the sun in the sky, but for a moment, they seemed to stop focusing, becoming soft and sweetly amiable. Then in an instant they snapped clearly with a brilliant sharpness that foreshadowed some piercing command.
“Take off your dress, Kate.” She heard the order, but it took some time for it to register. And when she stared at him, she realized that the mellow master of this earthy paradise had just become the ruthless master of her lust.
She shook the dress off her shoulders and let it slide to her feet. Vitorio snatched it from the ground, tossing it to a stone bench nearby. Then standing back, he admired her, while her naked body shivered in her pink high heels. “I think you belong here, McPherson,” he said. “I think you’ll do very well with me.”
She couldn’t help but stand straight as an arrow, her chest thrust slightly forward, breasts jiggling a little as she swayed nervously. Her master stood back enough to have a complete view of her. The way he stared at her, she blushed embarrassed. She could even feel a little juice seeping from her pussy below.
“Take your nipples in your fingers and pinch them,” he ordered.
The two buds were already showing some arousal, tightening even without a chill on this warm summer day. Tweaking the tiny things, she rolled them between her fingers, and watched how this pleased him. He strolled around her, and though she tried to follow him with her eyes, she gave up and let his scrutiny of her back side go on while she waited breathlessly for him to comment again.
“You have a fair ass, McPherson,” he finally said as he strolled back to her front. “And fine smart breasts.” He slapped one and she jerked. “And rosy pink nipples and of course that snatch.” He reached forward with his hand and grabbed her chain jewelry and pubic hair, tugging sharply. She gasped with the sudden shock of pain, but letting go, the pain became a fine shower of sensation tickling outwards from the center. “Look at me,” he said. She felt his breath against her cheek. “Don’t ever look away from me, unless I tell you to. Your eyes belong to me and they will wait on me expectantly.”
He still held his hand against her crotch, the sensation of his fingers like that of a ticklish feather. And then one finger meandered its way between her labia, searching for her clit. Finding the small throbbing thing, he squeezed it very gently. His eyes were intent, burning into hers and she couldn’t look away. Still holding tightly to that gentle bud, the squeeze became more firm, his two fingers creating a deep ache within.
She opened her mouth to voice a protest.
“Hush, don’t speak to me unless I ask you to, unless I question you, unless I direct you to open your mouth. If I care about what you feel, then I’ll ask you, Katherine. You are here for me to play with, little slut, nothing more. Turn around and bend, eyes to the ground.” He withdrew his hand so she could follow his order.
It was an instant of relief not to gaze into his eyes, but Vitorio replaced that tension with another more frightening still. From the corner of her eye, she watched the master stride toward his prize roses, and pulling a penknife from his pocket, cut a long stemmed red flower. The bud was choice, a bloom just on the verge of opening, with a dozen sharp thorns down the stem. Running the petals by her nose on his return to her side, she drew in the aroma, feeling it as a lush fog to cloud her mind. Yet, when he ran the rose down her bent back, she waited breathlessly for the first prick of its thorns.
The first bite came at her ass, as he drew a long, mean scratch down the flawless expanse of pink/white skin. Out of fear, she made no audible cry. Again the rose stem traced a line against her flesh—this one on her second ass cheek. And then steadying her with one hand, he pressed the thorns into her skin until they bit hard.
Her quiet cry displeased him. “On your knees, McPherson!”
Falling to the hard ground, she felt a pebble grind against the kneecap, but she was too frightened to move off of it. She struck the submissive pose of a well-trained member, but was jerked up by Vitorio’s hand grabbing her hair.
“Your eyes, I want to see your eyes. I want to see your face. I’ll tell you when you bow, and when you’ll look away. While you’re here you’ll look to me for everything. How you dress, and when you bathe. What you eat and drink and how you fix your hair. You’re here for my pleasure and nothing more. If that pleasures you, then all the better, I suppose, but I really don’t care.” He looked so cold, once so warm, she wasn’t sure whether to believe his cruel words or not, but indeed they made her quake at the core of herself. This was a feeling she’d felt before with Thaddeus—that shudder of erotic wonder causing her body to rush with such a surge of passion, she would beg for him if she weren’t prevented from speaking.
Vitorio seemed pleased with the look of her. On her knees, head slightly bowed, though her eyes stared up into his as she’d been ordered. Clasping her hands behind her she seemed to have anticipated that command. He might cuff for assuming even that much, but instead, he stalked her calmly with the rose in hand. When he paused, he ran the petals of the flower against her face and lips. She kissed the rose, then felt the thorns graze her skin though not enough to scratch it. He was a Jekyll and Hyde sort of man, his smoldering eyes changing from fierce and unrelenting to exceedingly kind—no warning at all.
“I shall whip you, McPherson, and you will cry. My clamps and pinchers will cause you pain.” He was almost whispering. “I will bind you and tease you and contain you, and you will shudder with fear. I will torture you exquisitely, my dear, and you’ll wonder why you ever let this desire for me become known to your favorite master.” He paused and smiled, then squatting down reached out with his hand, under the chains on her labia, finding her clit again. “You’re hot, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And this feels good to you?”
“Yes, it does.”
He continued playing, speaking to her softly as though he were seducing her. His eyes teased her as surely as the te
asing fingers, and she felt an orgasm rise. It became a struggle to remain poised on her knees with her body swaying. And as the fire increased and the spasms made her clench tight, it was Vitorio steadying her as the lovely warmth ripped through her, making her weak.
He was on his feet seconds later moving off somewhere behind the arbor, while she waited on her knees, still grappling with the powerful surge of cumming energy. When he returned minutes later he had several sapling branches in his hand.
“Strip these for me, down to the buds alone.”
Kate knew their purpose and could hardly hold the thin shoots without trembling. There were leaves and twigs to pull away, and her hands worked rapidly to do as she was told. With a pile of green on the ground before her when she finished, the tender branches looked stark and thin. They’d become lean stalks, with small buds that never had a chance to open.
“On your feet!” he snapped the command.
Kate rose, gingerly trying to stand in her pink high heels, the ground seeming more rough to her now with her legs still weak from the stunning cum.
“Raise your arms and grab for the arbor, and don’t bother trying to stare at me. I’ll remain behind you.”
Of course he would; he was planning to punish her. She walked carefully toward the arbor post in front of her and raised her arms above her head, finding a leafy branch to secure her clenched hands. Her sleek white body looked as if it had sprung from the earth as she pressed into the prickly thicket of vines and flowers. Like Vitorio’s cut rose, that now lay limp and forgotten in the dirt, there were thorns inside the lush green leaves. Each time she felt a barb prick her skin another shudder joined the others in their torturing seduction.
The master struck with the power of all three stripped sapling branches at once. Instant shock waves of sensation sparked across her back and ass. Shimmying uncontrollably against the lattice of wild vines, the pain increased as more unseen thorns poked into her breasts and thighs and gyrating belly with serious stabs of pain.
“That’s it, McPherson,” she heard the man encourage her heated battle with pain. “Ride the heat.”
The saplings struck again and again, lacing her from shoulders to knees until she was begging him to stop. “Please, Vitorio, no more.” The swell of plaintive cries fell unheeded in the steamy air. And the saplings struck again. “Oh, my nooooooo,” the biting pain moved recklessly everywhere. Only when he paused did some measure of eroticism begin to sweep her. And then, as if he actually cared that she was pleasured, the eroticism began to win the war against the pain. Her shrieks were beautiful sultry sounds, occasionally joined by a miserable howl when one branch would cut exceedingly harsh.
But then, it all began to die away—the cuts, the pain, the prick of the thorns, her wild gyrations and her confused cries.
She felt his hand next, caressing her rough skin gently. “You are quite a show, McPherson. Perhaps someday you’ll thank your friend Gillian for finding your diary, and you’ll even thank yourself for writing it. How else would you have known this much torture from a master and this much pleasure?
Apparently, it pleased him that she was physically aroused—even though, by his own confession, her pleasure was not his ultimate aim. He would seemed to derive substantial enjoyment from seeing both her agony and the transformation of agony into satisfaction.
“How wet.” His hand was feeling her between her thighs. There was another orgasm waiting there, her body moving into his hand almost desperate to have herself pleased. But once he discovered what he’d caused in her, he walked away.
“I’m through with you for now,” he said. “Put on your dress and sit on veranda until I need you again.”
Pulling away from the arbor, she turned about trying to keep the desperation from her expression, though that was truly hard. She wanted so to cum, and being left without that final instant of glory, it seemed this was the worst of all her tortures.
“Ah, and if you have to pee, you can do that in the dirt,” he motioned toward the back of his gardens.
Vitorio sauntered off without another word and she followed his instructions, realizing that this episode in her life would be one she would not quickly forget.
Now, gazing toward the distant hills and the lengthening shadows of afternoon, the heat in her ceased to rip through her longing belly and crotch, though the pain in her back remained where the nubbed branches did their damage to her skin. Vitorio had brought her iced tea, some fruit and sandwiches sometime ago, and not saying a word she remained as ordered awaiting another command. Mostly her head was empty of any thought and she tried to forget everything but the experience of sensation. That, she could celebrate because it was still wild in her and waiting for this master to use.
When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned immediately about to rise, remembering his orders. Still uncertain how letter-perfect she needed to be in following his commands, she wouldn’t risk angering him with even a hint of disobedience. But then he stopped her.
“Sit down and close your eyes,” he said.
She sat as ordered, while Vitorio knelt to her side behind the chair. For a moment his hand reached to her face and he stroked her cheek lightly.
“It will be easiest if you let yourself go while you’re here. Think of nothing in the rest of your world; not Thad, not your work, not the other masters. Think of yourself as nothing more than chattel, an ornament, a body for me to use—three delightful orifices. Nothing matters but pleasure, my pleasure.” His hand drew away from her face and returning, she felt something pressed against her lips and she opened them. A chocolate with the texture of fine cream melted inside her mouth. “Let it linger, that is the way every strike I inflict on you should linger, like a candy melting on your tongue, caressing your taste buds. Follow my orders, McPherson, follow them … she was almost drifting away at the sound of his soothing voice. Her head fell back against the chair just as her mind concluded she’d been drugged by the chocolate.
“Open your eyes and look at me.” Moving around to the front of her chair, Vitorio’s focused on her. She could barely comply with his command, but by force of will, she kept her eyes pried apart. At the moment nothing would have pleased her more than to close her lids again and fall into the awaiting sleep—closing away Vitorio and his teaming gardens and even this beautiful evening. She wanted just to drift. But then, her master helped her to her feet and for a few moments some life returned to her body. Perhaps it was his eyes keeping her awake.
“Your room is ready.”
How strange it was not to reply to him. And how curious the silence. Somewhere inside the fog around her, she could hear the sound of the birds chirping and bees buzzing, and the jarring noise of something rattling in Vitorio’s hand. She dared not look, but it took only moments for her to notice the collar when she felt the stiff thing going around her neck binding her there with three inches of inflexible leather. It closed with a hasp in the back and she heard the sound of a metal lock clicking tight. There were cuffs for her ankles and a pair for her wrists. The same unforgiving style of leather encircling the end of each extremity produced a sex spasm in her groin, the final effect enlivening what had been pleased and ripped apart and left wanting the last time she saw the master. Still, they felt so heavy, heavy as her sleepy head. She was already beginning to dream.
When Vitorio was finished securing the cuffs, he snapped a leash to the collar and led her inside his villa, up the back stairs and down a short corridor to a small bedroom.
“You’ll sleep here,” he said. “And now it’s time to sleep.” Attaching the leash to the headboard of her bed, that too was locked in place, so she could only move as far as the chain would allow. If this had been Thad, there would have been a goodnight kiss, or a hand fondling her brow, or maybe even some gentling sparring retort to indicate his affection for her—no matter how severe he’d been with her—and such severe moments were rare between them—his fondness for her always prevailed. Her relationship with Vitori
o would not include such frivolity.
Within seconds, Kate was fast asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Gillian woke at dawn with an agitated pulsing between her thighs. That leftover unspent sexual energy was cawing at her like a tough old crow. She tried rolling over, but she couldn’t sleep until her hand was in her crotch, feeling the lush wet folds of anxious skin that needed their relief. She thought of nothing but the men in the second floor room, pummeling her pushed out behind. She’d done some pretty raunchy things in her life, but none as frightening and blissful and exciting as this gangbang. In less than two minutes she was creaming all over her hand, rocking on the fingers stuffed in her cunt. If only there had been a man’s face pressed to her pubis at the moment of explosion, but she would just have to wait.
The thought of that missing male presence brought the picture of Mike Bellamy to the forefront of her thoughts. Oddly, the scoundrel seemed to have lodged himself side by side with her thoughts of the club, the two diverse erotic turn-ons playing equally mesmerizing roles in her fantasy. This was not good, and perhaps even dangerous. Not that Mike would pose a problem, but the threats from the club were grim. No, she’d have to give him up for good—tell him some nonsense about keeping pleasure out of business. It was the only way she would be able to survive.
Masters of the Club Page 10