Divine Cruelty (25 page)

It was clear that he was going to wallow in his own misery for a while and she took the opportunity to tease her fingers against his scrotum. The sac was fleshy and lifeless, inspiring the same disgust through her fingertips that was already fixed in her lips. Nevertheless, wanting him to conclude his story, and maybe give her some information that she could use, Rachel persisted in trying to inspire some sign of arousal.

He clutched her hair and pushed her mouth against his groin. 'I'm close,' he hissed. 'I'm close to coming and I want you to suck me, bitch. I want you to suck me and swallow the lot.'

Her stomach churned queasily but she didn't refuse. Placing her mouth over his limpness, stroking her fingers lightly against his withered sac, she sucked on the soft end of his glans. It was almost possible to feel a tremor undulating through his flaccid length but she couldn't sense any hardness or firm pulse.

'That's it you bitch,' he grunted. 'That's it.'

His exclamation came as his length spat a minor trickle against her tongue. She swallowed the tepid ejaculate without tasting it and was thankful to be able to move her mouth away from him. Her nose had been buried against the wiry brush of his pubic curls and the stench had been disgusting.

Osbourne glared at her. His eyes shone with irreconcilable shame and excitement. Snatching the robe back over his groin, modestly covering himself, he said, 'You can go now. You can fuck off.'

Rachel shook her head. 'You haven't told me all about Pearl yet,' she reminded him. 'Master Bernard said you might be able to help me remove her from my master's estate.'

Huddled inside his dirty robe, Osbourne looked sad and defeated. 'I couldn't stop the bitch from ruining my life,' he whined. 'What makes you think I could stop her from ruining yours?'

She could feel herself ready to succumb to the same despair that now ruled his existence and she wilfully brushed those thoughts aside. If she gave up now she knew there would never be any hope of removing Pearl from the estate. 'There must be something you can tell me,' she insisted.

'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'So you might as well do as I say and fuck off.' Now that he had climaxed he seemed lost in a wave of self-pity and hopelessness. 'The only information I've got is the investigative report I had commissioned on her, and I doubt that would be any use to you. It's a worthless background file, date of birth, work history and a handful of compromising photographs.' He grunted mirthless laughter and added, 'Although, how you can take a compromising photograph of a slave trader is beyond me.'

Struck by sudden hope, Rachel said, 'May I see?'

Osbourne shrugged as though the matter was of no consequence. Struggling with the effort, he passed her the ledger that had sat beside him on the settee.

Rachel's heart pounded as she opened the first page and saw a photograph of a much younger Pearl staring back at her. Hope began to swell within her breast as she flicked through several loose pages; photocopies of a birth certificate; group portraits from schools and colleges; duplicates of passports and bank statements and a schedule of her activities from a long ago week. Rachel also saw Pearl's face featured in a couple of newspaper cuttings, and noticed she was described as a successful entrepreneur.

Going through page after page - an arrest report and a photocopy of a traffic violation - her hopes began to dwindle. She was on the verge of conceding that Osbourne had been right to dismiss the report as worthless when she reached the last few pages of the ledger.

The picture staring at her was better than she could have hoped.

The black and white photograph showed a naked Pearl in the embrace of two muscular men. One was pushing his length into her pussy, the other had his thick shaft in her mouth. Pearl's face was instantly recognisable, even with her mouth stretched to accept the erection. Equally damning, just so there was no trace of doubt as to who the photograph showed, the butterfly tattoo on her breast had been captured in perfect, vivid detail.

Her heart began to race. 'May I have this?' she asked.

Osbourne didn't bother looking. His gaze was fixed on the TV screen and he looked as if he had forgotten she was in the room. 'If it will serve as payment for the blowjob, then you can take it.' Glancing shrewishly at her he said, 'But I want you to go now. I've told you before and this is the last time I'll tell you: I want you to fuck off.'

No longer troubled by his rudeness, Rachel snatched the photograph and rushed out of the squalid room. A huge smile was plastered over her face. She distinctly remembered what Master Vince had said to her when he told her of his betrothed's virginity: 'Pearl says she's never been with another man and, if I doubted her honesty, I wouldn't be marrying her.' Rachel thought the photograph she now possessed might be enough to make him doubt Pearl's honesty and, for the first time in days, she thought there might be a hope of making everything on the estate turn out well.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

There was barely enough time to hide the photograph.

On the journey home it had crossed her mind that she should use it as soon as she returned to the estate but prudence told her to wait. She would need to gauge Master Vince's mood, make sure the revelation didn't spoil her own plans for moving to Master Bernard's albergo, and only then, when the timing was just right, Rachel could expose Pearl as a lying bitch. A bitter smile twisted her lips as she savoured how that moment would feel.

'Rachel. You're back.'

She had taken the time to undress first, knowing Master Vince preferred to see her in her robe rather than in the clothes she wore for travelling, and had only just secreted the photograph alongside the rest of her contraband. O'Mara's sudden appearance in the doorway made her realise she should have hidden the photograph first. Concealing her surprise she tried not to sound too startled when she said, 'I must be back. The absence of courtesy, or doors being knocked, is proof in itself.'

O'Mara sneered. 'You're wanted in Mistress Pearl's studio. You're wanted there now.'

'Piss off,' Rachel said pleasantly.

O'Mara clasped a hand over her mouth and feigned a look of shock. 'That was a direct instruction from the master's betrothed,' she hissed. 'You can't tell me to piss off. That's like saying the words to Mistress Pearl herself.'

If Rachel had taken a moment to think she might have realised that O'Mara was deliberately trying to provoke a response. The maid seemed too offended by the dismissal even though she must have heard the words a thousand times or more. But, because Rachel didn't like her, and because there was always a sadistic pleasure to be had from insulting the maid, she continued without caution. 'I can tell you to piss off,' Rachel assured O'Mara. 'I just did. I can tell you to fuck off, I can tell you to go screw yourself and I can tell you to go and shove broken glass up your arsehole.' Warming to her theme, enjoying the maid's upset and impotent fury she continued, 'And, as for telling the master's betrothed to piss off, I'd say the words to her now if she was here.'

From behind O'Mara, Pearl stepped into the doorway and stared coolly at Rachel. It was easy to overlook O'Mara's obvious triumph because Rachel could only see the slave trader's foreboding frown as the woman glared at her.

'You'd tell me to piss off?' Pearl asked softly. 'Is that what you just said?'

Rachel's heart thudded and she thanked whatever good fortune had stopped her from referring to Pearl as the "master's whore." She could see she was already facing severe punishment but a lapse like that would have been unretractable. 'I'm sorry,' she said quickly. 'I didn't know you were there.'

'That much is obvious,' Pearl agreed. 'But I still don't think it can be forgiven.' Half of her nubile body had been hidden behind O'Mara and, as she stepped into the room, Rachel saw the slave trader was holding a riding crop. Even though the woman wore jodhpurs and a polo shirt, and looked as if she had just come from the stables, Rachel thought it was no coincidence that she should arrive at her room armed with such a punishing implement. She suspected that Pearl had expected this confrontation and simply come prepared.

'I'm sorry you had to hear that,' Rachel began.

Pearl nodded and readjusted her grip on the riding crop. She held an end in each hand and bent the length into a quivering arch. The exertion made the slender muscles in her forearms bulge. 'I expect you are sorry,' she agreed. 'And I expect you'll be a damned sight sorrier by the time I'm finished with you.'

Rachel thought about the photograph she had just hidden and wondered if the slave trader would sound so smug if she knew of its existence. Not letting herself dwell on that idea, knowing the time to use it wasn't quite right, she held herself defiantly and prepared to suffer whatever torment Pearl intended administering.

'You have a high opinion of yourself,' Pearl said, stroking the tip of the crop against Rachel's chest. 'I don't mind that,' she allowed. 'I encourage confidence whenever I see it, but I won't tolerate it in slaves.'

Her voice had risen as she concluded the sentence and, with a vicious swipe, she thrashed the crop against Rachel's bare breasts. The pain was sudden and stinging, a rush of agony soared through the tips of her breasts, and Rachel almost squealed in protest. Instinctively, she staggered back and then had to wilfully stop herself from trying to escape the torment.

Pearl raised the crop again and glared. 'Do you know what you need, Rachel?'

Rachel thought about the hidden photograph and decided she knew exactly what she needed. She needed an opportunity to get the photograph to Master Vince so he could see the picture of his virginal bride-to-be getting fucked while she sucked on a cock. Even if the time for that revelation wasn't right, she strongly suspected it would be enough to help her escape Pearl's immediate punishment. But she also knew there was no hope of retrieving the photograph and getting it to Master Vince until Pearl had finished with her.

'Answer me, bitch,' Pearl insisted. The pitch of her voice had become a demanding shriek. 'Answer me or I'll make this a damned sight worse. Do you know what you need?'

'No,' Rachel grunted. She thought it might lessen the woman's anger if she addressed her as Mistress Pearl but she couldn't bring herself to use that title. Lowering her gaze to the floor, trying not to let the slave trader see her heartfelt loathing, she said, 'What do you think I need?'

Pearl placed the tip of the crop under Rachel's jaw and tilted her head until their eyes met. 'I think you need a lesson in humility,' Pearl told her. 'I think you need a lesson that will teach you your place.'

The arrogance was galling and the woman's superior attitude made Rachel feel rebellious. Glaring defiantly, unable to keep the scorn from her tone, she asked, 'Are you going to try and give me that lesson in humility? Are you going to teach me my place?'

Pearl laughed and shook her head. 'I'll give you one of today's lessons,' she promised. 'But I think your lesson in humility should come from a different source.' Turning back to the doorway, tossing the riding crop to Master Vince's personal maid, she said, 'Your first punishment today is going to come from O'Mara.'

Rachel tried to protest, not wanting to be punished by an inferior, but she could see any argument she raised would be futile. Glaring furiously at Pearl she bit her lip to stop herself from making the situation worse.

'Do exactly as O'Mara tells you,' Pearl instructed, 'show me that you know how to accept discipline, and perhaps I might be lenient on you when it's my turn to wield the crop.'

Rachel said nothing and glared at O'Mara.

The maid held the crop with the reverence she would have given to a religious artefact. She grinned malevolently as she advanced on Rachel and it was clear that the chance to exact some form of discipline was a long-cherished ambition. Glancing warily at Pearl, she asked, 'Can I really punish her, Mistress Pearl?'

Pearl studied Rachel as she replied. 'Punish her as much as you think she deserves. The only advice I would give is: make sure she suffers.'

It was all the instruction O'Mara needed. She raised the crop and slashed it hard against Rachel's breast. Pearl had sliced an efficient blow but this was a hundred times more powerful. Rachel felt her nipples being squashed by the thin crop and the agony in her breasts was interminable. She struggled not to scream, not knowing if her cries would earn her more punishment but unwilling to take the risk, and glared vehemently at the maid.

Relishing her task, O'Mara drew the crop back and sliced another punishing shot across Rachel's breasts.

The pain was infuriating. Deep stripes of heat excited her breasts and the anguish inspired turmoil in the sultry heat of her sex. Her heart was racing furiously and she cursed the libidinous impulse that always made her associate punishment with pleasure. When O'Mara sliced a third blow against her bared breasts, Rachel released an animal grunt that was somewhere between agony and ecstasy.

'Are you just going to crop her tits?' Pearl asked calmly.

Rachel glared at her but the slave trader's attention was now fixed on O'Mara.

'Just because you have the crop doesn't mean you have to use it. And just because she's showing her tits, it doesn't mean you have to punish them.'

O'Mara considered the words for a moment before nodding agreement. A sly smile lit on her face as she contemplated Rachel then came to a sudden decision. Stepping nearer, pushing her face close, she roared, 'Get down on your knees, bitch. Get down on your knees and kiss my feet.'