Divine Cruelty (28 page)

It didn't matter that Master Vince seemed happy with his choice of bride, or that the woman wouldn't present a problem when Rachel was a resident at the albergo. In Rachel's mind all that mattered was removing the pernicious slave trader from her master's estate. Part of that rationale came from what the cards had told her, and part came from her instinctive dislike of Pearl, but she supposed the majority of her motivation was now governed by the modifications that had been made to her breasts and pussy.

To her surprise she discovered that being divine had some serious drawbacks.

After the chains had been removed she had been touched by a sense of freedom. It was liberating to be able to move without having her sensitive flesh pulled by the same bulky chain that had shackled her since she became the master's favourite. But that sense of relief had not lasted beyond the first session on the suction pumps. After spending six hours strapped to the studio's bed, while the pumps droned mercilessly against her flesh, her nipples and clitoris felt more sensitive than ever.

The only visible difference was that they were larger. Her sex lips were the same grotesque expanse of too-much pink that she had noticed on Pearl's other subjects and her nipples were now the size of cherry tomatoes. But it wasn't the appearance that troubled her: it was the intense sensations.

Each movement against her sex was an exercise in torment that had her wavering between a faint and an orgasm. Every subtle caress against her breasts forced Rachel to shriek and she had yet to work out if those exclamations were borne from agony or ecstasy. Even the simple chore of holding a candle, a task that was usually delegated to those slaves who were unfit for anything more responsible, was proving uncommonly demanding. The hard length of wax felt too large inside her pussy and every tremor that passed through her body was exacerbated by her hypersensitive labia. Countless times throughout the master's meal she had wanted to sob with pent-up frustration and it was only because she didn't want to incur his displeasure that she had managed to control the urge.

Closing her eyes, willing herself to get through the meal without causing embarrassment, Rachel vowed she would see Pearl expelled from the estate before she left to join Master Bernard at the albergo. Thinking about the photograph, imagining Master Vince's outrage when he saw that his betrothed had lied to him, almost gave her enough comfort to tolerate the ordeal. She had already decided it would be a perfect payback for this introduction to new torment.

'Limousines,' Master Vince said firmly. 'It's a wedding and nothing else would be appropriate. We have to have limousines.'

Startled by his raised voice, Rachel surreptitiously turned to glance at the couple. It was a difficult manoeuvre to manage while trying not to unsettle the candles and she performed the action with the utmost care. Both lengths of wax were fat, filling her snugly, and she didn't dare allow her body to acknowledge their presence. Previous experience had taught her that it would only take one small whisper of arousal and her sex muscles would contract and spit the candles from her pussy and anus. She had seen slaves flayed for such misdemeanours and was determined she wouldn't end the day with that sort of punishment. She believed she was already suffering more than enough.

'Why waste money on limousines when we can use remaining stock as pony girls?' Pearl demanded. She was shaking her head in exasperation and her determined expression was the mirror image of Master Vince's adamant scowl. Raising her voice to match his, she bellowed, 'You're talking about unnecessary extravagance, you pillock! You're not talking sense.'

'Pony girls would be tacky,' Master Vince exploded. 'Pony girls would cheapen the entire occasion. We're trying to organise a wedding here, not a whore's ball. Can't you get that through your thick, fucking skull?'

'You fucking snob,' Pearl returned.

Rachel's eyes widened eagerly and she wondered if all her worries might have been premature. Considering the volatile tone of the argument it sounded like there was a chance that the wedding might not happen. She struggled not to make her interest in the couple appear too lurid but she strained to catch every detail.

'I might be a fucking snob,' Master Vince agreed haughtily. 'But I'm a snob who won't be having pony girls drive the vehicles at his wedding. I've said limousines and that means it's going to be limousines.'

Pearl snatched a cigarette from her purse and glared at him as she clenched her teeth around the filter. 'Care to bet on that?' she asked coolly.

His anger suddenly vanished and Rachel wondered what he had seen in the woman's eyes to make his temper abate so quickly. She didn't get the chance to study Pearl because the slave trader chose that moment to drag the candle from her pussy so she could light her cigarette.

The length of wax slipped easily from Rachel's sex, stunning her with a rush of unexpected excitement. She held herself motionless, for fear of letting her muscles convulse and inadvertently forcing the remaining candle from her anus, but it was an arduous chore. Every urge wanted her to relent to the pleasure and it was only through fear of the consequences that she forced herself not to give in to that impulse.

'A bet?' Even without looking, Rachel could hear that Master Vince was smiling. 'The winner has their choice of the day's transportation? Is that what you're proposing? You'll be going for your damned pony carts: I can have my limousines? Is that what you're suggesting here?'

'That's what I'm proposing,' Pearl assured him. Carelessly, she pushed the rounded base of the candle against Rachel's pussy lips and slid the wax back inside.

Rachel held her breath, trying not to register the delicious sensations that came from the penetration. It was almost impossible to deny the joy that came from the entry because her labia were more sensitive than they had ever been. She could feel every nuance of the base rubbing at her split and, when the hard length began to squirm into her sex, she came close to collapsing with a magnificent swell of delight. As its length filled her, she was dizzied by a rush of unexpected delirium and she clawed the surface of the table to fend off a rush of orgasm. It was all too easy to imagine herself being floored by the climax and then punished for her unworthy behaviour.

'You've intrigued me,' Master Vince told Pearl. 'What's the challenge?'

Rachel listened intently, trying to hear every word over the pounding flood of adrenaline that coursed through her temples. She didn't doubt she would be a part of their entertainment and her fears were confirmed when Pearl spoke again.

'We've got two slaves here,' Pearl reminded him. 'And we've got a couple of spare sherry glasses,' she added, clinking them musically together. 'I think we can have a little amusement here before we retire to our respective rooms for the night.'

From over her shoulder Rachel could see Pearl handing one of the glasses to Master Vince. She kept a second in her own hand and toyed with it while she smoked her cigarette.

'Which of these bitches do you want?' he asked.

Rachel felt her spirits sink. The master had never previously referred to her as one of his bitches and she knew she had lost her place in his favours forever. If it hadn't been for the constant thrills that were trembling through her nipples and pussy, she knew she would have been crushed by the observation.

'Go on,' he said. 'You can have first choice.'

'I'll place my faith in O'Mara,' Pearl decided. 'You can put your stake on your former favourite. The winner will be the first slave that fills their sherry glass. Are we agreed?'

'Agreed,' he laughed cheerfully.

Without another word both candles were snatched from her sex and Rachel shivered with each departure. The muscles of her anus contracted as the second candle was pulled free. A spasm of excitement shivered down her spine. The pleasure was infectious and, while her body tingled from the first thrill, another wave of euphoria echoed through her pussy. Trying not to show her response, she slowly obeyed Master Vince's instruction and turned around.

She knew what was expected of her and realised it was going to be a contest that she had no hope of winning. When she had been the master's favourite Rachel had seen this sort of competition often and knew the rules were straightforward and uncomplicated. Two slaves were told to face each other, each squatting over a glass, and then they were expected to masturbate. Participants weren't allowed to use tools - no vibrators, butt-plugs or assistance - and they were expected to ejaculate with every climax. The winner was the first to fill her glass with pussy juice.

Rachel had never been called on to participate in such a competition before and had always regarded the winning slaves as either freaks or cheats. She didn't think she had ever ejaculated in her life and didn't really believe it was possible for any normal woman. Yet, knowing O'Mara's gift for coming so copiously, and weighing that against her own limitations in that capacity, Rachel realised this was a challenge that she was bound to lose.

The thought was unsettling on several levels, primarily because she didn't want to fail in any competition against O'Mara. She was also loath to disappoint Master Vince, even if she was no longer his favourite, but there was another reason why she was suddenly dreading this competition and that one grew more unnerving each time her thoughts returned to it. In all the previous tournaments she had seen, Rachel knew the loser was expected to drink the contents of the winner's glass.

The thought made her stomach muscles churn with nausea.

'You know what you're expected to do?' Pearl asked O'Mara.

It looked like a senseless question because O'Mara was already assuming the required position. Shifting easily out of her kneeling position she squatted over Pearl's sherry glass with her swollen pussy lips hovering inches above the rim of the glass. The black bands of her fishnet stockings circled her narrow thighs and provided a harsh contrast with the dusky pink of her massive labia. She used one hand to splay herself open and the thrust of her clitoris was clearly visible. Her other hand was in her mouth and she deliberately licked the end of her finger. Rather than paying attention to Pearl or Master Vince she fixed her gaze on Rachel as though she was going to prove a point by winning this challenge. 'I know what I've got to do,' O'Mara said softly. 'I've got to win.'

Rachel glanced at Master Vince and saw he was smiling confidently at her. The knowledge that she was going to disappoint him was upsetting and she wondered if she should apologise before the challenge began.

'You're not going to let me down, are you?' he asked.

She tried to return his grin but the expression felt plastic and hopeless. 'I'll try my best, master,' she promised. 'You know I'll do that much.'

He shook his head and patted her on the thigh. 'You'll try your best and you'll win,' he assured her. 'I wouldn't want to punish you for failing me.' Turning to Pearl, waiting for her nod of assent before issuing his command, Master Vince said, 'Go on then, ladies: fill your glasses.'

It was all the instruction that either of them needed and Rachel began to frig herself as soon as the words were spoken. She glanced across the table and saw that O'Mara's eyes were closed as the maid lost herself in a world of fantasy. She held her pussy lips spread wide apart and chased a steady finger over the pulsing nub of her clitoris. Her motion was methodical and regular but it was obvious from the trembling in her thighs that she was easily able to tease herself to a pinnacle of bliss. The flesh of her sex began to grow darker as it suffused with blood and, although they weren't receiving any stimulation, O'Mara's nipples stood hard and proud.

'Bitch,' Rachel thought miserably.

She was chasing a finger against her own sex and, while every contact was an exercise in bliss, she knew she wouldn't be able to match O'Mara's enviable skill. It only took a couple of caresses and her sex felt swollen with the need for release. A casual touch against the centre of her hole was enough to have her squirming with the desire for release, but she resisted the urge hoping her body would miraculously supply the flood of wetness that she needed to win this challenge.

O'Mara groaned.

Rachel glanced across the table at her and saw the maid was already in the throes of a powerful arousal. Sweat had plastered her hair to her scalp and her gaze was an eerie combination of sexual excitement and determination. The hand between her legs had become a blur as she rubbed faster and more furiously and Rachel could see the woman was on the verge of release. That thought was confirmed when O'Mara squealed and held herself absolutely still. Every muscle in her body was taut with exertion and her thighs trembled from the force of a magnificent effort.

'Yes,' O'Mara sighed.

Rachel watched a flow of clear liquid spill from the maid's sex.

The stream was far from steady, and little more than an urgent squirt, but Rachel could see the majority trickled into O'Mara's sherry glass and managed to fill a third of it. A few droplets did spill against the mahogany table, tarnishing the polished surface but Rachel could see she had no chance of winning.

'Come on, Rachel,' Master Vince encouraged. 'You're not even trying.'

She realised she had been engrossed in the sight of O'Mara's triumph and hurriedly mumbled an apology. Returning her hand to her sex, trembling as her sticky fingers slid against the vast expanse of her pussy lips, she was easily able to rekindle the arousal that had caught her at the beginning of the competition. She knew she had no chance of success but that didn't stop her from rubbing hurriedly against herself. The feelings that came from her newly shaped labia were still too intense to be overlooked and she wondered if the swell of orgasm would always be as easy to achieve when Pearl's modifications had been made permanent. It was only a passing consideration because, as the waves of ecstasy began to buffet her body, she could think of little else except the marvel of her encroaching climax.