master, Rachel wondered if there was anything she could hope to do to break the woman's partnership with her master.
CHAPTER EIGHT
'Tighter,' Rachel gasped. 'I want it much fucking tighter than that.'
One of the dark-skinned slaves gasped. Two of the others exchanged a shocked glance and she could see they were surprised that she was addressing their master with scant regard for the use of correct protocols. Ignoring their prudish frowns - concentrating only on her own needs - she glared at Master Bernard, clenched her teeth and said, 'That's not nearly enough. I want it much fucking tighter.'
He grinned and his rigid shaft twitched excitedly. He was overseeing her torment: directing slaves to bind each orb while indicating who should use which dildo and where. There were two lengths of plastic jostling side by side in her rectum and their shrill buzz rattled through her bowel. A third, wider phallus was being forced into the aching hole of her sex and it stretched her beyond the limits of endurance. Around her breasts, punishingly tight, two thick leather straps had been tied and pulled taut. Both orbs were blushing with trapped blood and her nipples stood hard and magenta. The combination of debilitating pain and insatiable arousal left her delirious.
'Tighter?' Master Bernard laughed. 'You really must enjoy being tit-bound.'
It was neither the time nor the place to discuss whether she liked or disliked the punishment and Rachel didn't bother gracing his remark with an answer. Being tit-bound was a twin-edged sword of pain and pleasure but, when it was properly done, it had one advantage over every other form of punishment: it stopped her from dwelling on anything except the sensations in her breasts.
Since meeting Osbourne the broken old man had been at the forefront of her mind. His face had loomed toward her from the darkness when she was alone with Master Bernard and the tragic story of his downfall had heightened her fears each time she thought about her home with Master Vince. Rachel repeatedly told herself Osbourne had suffered because he refused to deal with the slave trader but, even though she knew Pearl was now her master's business partner, it was impossible to shake off the worry that she might still be planning to destroy him.
The torment of the tit-binding helped her to briefly forget all those worries. Her breasts were a deafening scream of agony with each nipple becoming obscenely sensitive. The slightest movement of her piercings sparked delicious spasms that racked her entire body. It only took the slightest tug on her chains to hurl her toward the verge of orgasm. She thrashed elatedly on the bed and stared with blind gratitude toward Master Bernard and his hoard of pliant dark-skinned slaves.
'We don't have much longer together,' he told her.
She silently cursed his desire to talk, wishing he would simply use her so she could complete her pleasure. Rather than bore her with whatever it was he wanted to say, she would have preferred him to fuck her, or get one of the slaves to don a strap-on and ride her, or treat her to some twisted variation on a similar theme. Her imagination was quick to supply ideas for how they could share their last moments; he could use her, then have one of his slaves lap the semen from her hole; he could make her suck on him while his entourage nibbled and licked against her shivering body; he could bind her breasts tighter and then thrash the swollen orbs with nettles.
All of the scenarios seemed appealing - certainly more entertaining than listening to his tiresome rhetoric - and she wondered why he couldn't see her urgent need.
'Push those deeper,' he barked.
He pointed at the slave behind her and, faultlessly obedient, she slid both vibrators further inside Rachel's anus. The muscle was stretched to a shriek and the mechanical drone groaned through her bowel. She squeezed her eyes closed and glorious
CHAPTER EIGHT
'Tighter,' Rachel gasped. 'I want it much fucking tighter than that.'
One of the dark-skinned slaves gasped. Two of the others exchanged a shocked glance and she could see they were surprised that she was addressing their master with scant regard for the use of correct protocols. Ignoring their prudish frowns - concentrating only on her own needs - she glared at Master Bernard, clenched her teeth and said, 'That's not nearly enough. I want it much fucking tighter.'
He grinned and his rigid shaft twitched excitedly. He was overseeing her torment: directing slaves to bind each orb while indicating who should use which dildo and where. There were two lengths of plastic jostling side by side in her rectum and their shrill buzz rattled through her bowel. A third, wider phallus was being forced into the aching hole of her sex and it stretched her beyond the limits of endurance. Around her breasts, punishingly tight, two thick leather straps had been tied and pulled taut. Both orbs were blushing with trapped blood and her nipples stood hard and magenta. The combination of debilitating pain and insatiable arousal left her delirious.
'Tighter?' Master Bernard laughed. 'You really must enjoy being tit-bound.'
It was neither the time nor the place to discuss whether she liked or disliked the punishment and Rachel didn't bother gracing his remark with an answer. Being tit-bound was a twin-edged sword of pain and pleasure but, when it was properly done, it had one advantage over every other form of punishment: it stopped her from dwelling on anything except the sensations in her breasts.
Since meeting Osbourne the broken old man had been at the forefront of her mind. His face had loomed toward her from the darkness when she was alone with Master Bernard and the tragic story of his downfall had heightened her fears each time she thought about her home with Master Vince. Rachel repeatedly told herself Osbourne had suffered because he refused to deal with the slave trader but, even though she knew Pearl was now her master's business partner, it was impossible to shake off the worry that she might still be planning to destroy him.
The torment of the tit-binding helped her to briefly forget all those worries. Her breasts were a deafening scream of agony with each nipple becoming obscenely sensitive. The slightest movement of her piercings sparked delicious spasms that racked her entire body. It only took the slightest tug on her chains to hurl her toward the verge of orgasm. She thrashed elatedly on the bed and stared with blind gratitude toward Master Bernard and his hoard of pliant dark-skinned slaves.
'We don't have much longer together,' he told her.
She silently cursed his desire to talk, wishing he would simply use her so she could complete her pleasure. Rather than bore her with whatever it was he wanted to say, she would have preferred him to fuck her, or get one of the slaves to don a strap-on and ride her, or treat her to some twisted variation on a similar theme. Her imagination was quick to supply ideas for how they could share their last moments; he could use her, then have one of his slaves lap the semen from her hole; he could make her suck on him while his entourage nibbled and licked against her shivering body; he could bind her breasts tighter and then thrash the swollen orbs with nettles.
All of the scenarios seemed appealing - certainly more entertaining than listening to his tiresome rhetoric - and she wondered why he couldn't see her urgent need.
'Push those deeper,' he barked.
He pointed at the slave behind her and, faultlessly obedient, she slid both vibrators further inside Rachel's anus. The muscle was stretched to a shriek and the mechanical drone groaned through her bowel. She squeezed her eyes closed and glorious
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