‘I am here to please and pleasure you, master,’ she murmured, bending to lick his nipples teasingly. ‘Grant your servant, this English rose, a chance to blossom.’
To her delight, she felt the coiled tension in his shoulders slacken. He was surrendering – but the jerking twitch of his shaft up against her bottom was a stern reminder of his savage potency. It was going to be dangerous.
Shuffling her satin-smooth buttocks slowly and sensually up along his body, she nudged her breasts into his face. Dangling the luscious globes an inch before his eyes, she nipple-teased him, skimming his cheeks and then his lips with the pert peaks before crushing her bosoms down to bury him in their soft warmth. Jerking back her hips, she swept her cheeks down against his shaft: the rod of pulsing iron speared her cleft as she jiggled her breasts and drowned him. Suddenly, skimming her wet slit down his flesh, she sat back between his knees and captured his erection between her bouncing breasts. She bunched her satin cushions between her trembling palms so that her nipples kissed his glistening spear. He gasped and swore softly, pumping his hips violently to enjoy the warmth and depth of her tight cleavage. She crushed her breasts together until they ached, capturing and trapping his thrusting shaft. Slipping her right hand in front of her bosom to keep him ensnared within her flesh, she searched for his balls with her left hand. She found the sac and squeezed.
Ozzam’s belly tensed; his eyes became fierce slits. Mandy knew that he was coming, was about to explode in her bosom. Swinging her breasts free, she released him. Denied what he chokingly desired, his left hand taloned the silk sheet in a paroxysm of fury, ripping it as a tiger claws its prey. The twitching shaft beat the empty air, pulsing and throbbing in vain. Mandy just managed to hide her smile of triumph as he cursed and begged for release.
‘Daughter of a witch, finish me,’ he grunted, ‘finish me.’
‘As you command, master,’ she whispered softly.
He eased himself back into the pillows, surrendering his erection with a mixture of pride and submission. Lowering her face, she pursed her lips and blew softly on the angry head of his shaft.
‘Feel the sweet zephyr as it blows upon the burning sands at sunset. Feel how good it is, my master, prince of the desert, to have the cool wind caress your burning flesh.’
He moaned drunkenly, threshing beneath the weight of her thighs and buttocks. Her cleft was hot and sticky; she pressed it down into him firmly, branding him with her heat. He screamed a curdled scream of violent delight. She slipped her left hand up between his thighs, fingernailing him deliberately before capturing his balls once more between her thumb and fingertips. Twisting and turning his sac, she owned and controlled him completely.
‘You’ll taste the whip, bitch. I’ll lash you –’
‘This –’ she spoke serenely, ignoring his blustering ‘– is the healing balm of the cool oasis.’ Her voice was now a carnal sigh. She spilled her spittle along his throbbing shaft. ‘How sweet are the waters at the oasis, my prince of the desert, feel how they cool your heat.’
‘Now,’ he roared, pawing desperately at her head to force her mouth over the erection an inch below. ‘Now, bitch. Take me. I, Ozzam, command it.’
‘Patience, my master. Not yet. Not yet,’ she murmured softly, ‘for my prince should know that there is an even softer place for his aching flesh to rest. Truly, in all the desert, he will not find a tighter sheath for his sword.’
Turning deftly, she released his balls and swivelled her buttocks towards him. Quickly gathering his straining shaft in her hand, she eased her bottom towards its engorged head. Wedging the tip into her cleft, she slowly, tantalisingly, dragged it along the velvet flesh between her parted cheeks. Three times, in maddeningly slow succession, she forced the pulsing flesh between her heavy buttocks before nuzzling it against her wet sphincter.
This time, his scream was a silent scream. Grappling drunkenly, he tried to clutch her soft cheeks between veined, taloned hands. She brushed them away imperiously and, perched above his thighs, clenched her anal whorl’s rosebud muscle rhythmically – drawing his length in a quarter of an inch at each delicious spasm. Groaning in his ecstasy, he begged her openly and loudly for completion. Unable to thrust and penetrate, he was at the mercy of her cunning buttocks. She toyed with his anguish and protracted his sweet suffering.
He cursed her violently once more, but Mandy continued to deny him. His harsh words became sweet pleading, choking with suffocating torment. With a twisting lunge, he bucked and jerked, toppling her from her throne of dominance. She fell from the bed and lay sprawled, face down and bosom crushed on the carpet.
He pounced, straddling her, his spear once more at her gaping cleft. Greedy hands prised her helpless cheeks apart, forcing the cleft to yawn deeply. Her sphincter sparkled, a red rosebud on the tremulous verge of opening. He swallowed, and grabbed a fistful of her sweat-drenched hair.
‘My English rose, the moment has come for you to be –’
‘Take me, my master, for I am but a sugared sweetmeat upon your silver dish. I am as the honeycomb between your bared teeth: the passing pleasure of but a moment. But I know where,’ she whispered fiercely, ‘there is darker meat for your appetite. Meat more toothsome. Wild, untamed game, providing meat more fitting for my master’s table.’
The words arrested his lust, confusing and tormenting him. ‘Where?’ he choked in his fury. ‘Where?’
Before she could reply, she felt him shoot his load. The squirting stream of hot silver splattered her hair, neck, shoulders and dimpled spine. Pitter pat. Pitter pat. It rained down like a sudden summer shower kissing the hot asphalt of a blistering road. She squirmed, causing the spillage to course down her spine and collect in a puddle at the swell of her buttocks. She felt it swimming, then flow down into her cleft. He rose and staggered across to the empty bed. Mandy wriggled over and wiped her buttocks dry on the carpet.
‘Take me to this –’
‘Rare fruit? Come,’ she whispered. ‘I will show you.’
They stole out of the gilded bedchamber. Had Charles Stuart been so royally entertained? Mandy wondered, glimpsing the torn sheet as she left through the huge oak doors. Out in the moonlit corridor, Ozzam silenced the heavies. His authority at once quelled the surprise and concern.
‘Leave me be. I will go with this girl. I trust her.’
Mandy took Ozzam by the hand and led him down the corridor, turning out through French windows on to an octagonal balcony. They paused in the moonlight. She shivered, naked in the night chill.
‘Sit a moment. I have something important to tell you.’
‘You?’ he sounded amazed. ‘Something to tell me, Ozzam?’
‘Yes,’ she replied with quiet confidence.
Something about her serious tone of voice calmed him.
‘Buying Sternwood Grange is a very big mistake.’
‘Why do you say this?’ he barked.
‘Many reasons. To start with, you are paying too much. Several hundred thousand too much.’
He protested vehemently, but she was well rehearsed and armed with a flood of facts and figures. She presented her facts coldly and clearly – unit costs, overheads, depreciation – with all the professionalism her days at Millbank had taught her. Although she knew she had convinced him, he wavered.
‘Then there’s Special Branch. Always sniffing around.’
In the moonlight, his sallow skin paled. She explained that many of Sternwood Grange’s clientele were very important people. Important enough to have Special Branch interested in their welfare. She whispered several names. His eyes widened like a child’s with wonder.
‘And you can’t build, refurbish or extend. This is a Grade II listed building.’
She hit him with all her meticulous research carried out in London: land searches, preservation orders and severe planning restrictions. ‘You can’t even paint the back door without a full public inquiry. Anything historical, and the press descend like vultures.’
; Three minutes’ silence followed.
He broke it with an angry, bewildered voice. ‘How do you know these things? What is your interest in Sternwood Grange?’
Should she? Dare she? She decided to risk it: telling him, briefly, her true identity and how Sternwood Grange was hers, not Celia’s to sell. And, she added, she was not selling.
‘If you buy, it will mean protracted court cases. And publicity,’ she warned.
That clinched it. The man with five passports and no nationality cursed softly into the night. Turning, he shrugged. ‘But where is this forbidden fruit you promised me?’
‘Come, let us pay them a visit. They are in bed by now, but not sleeping.’
Ten
Through the one-way mirror, Mandy and Ozzam watched as Erica pleasured her grey-eyed mistress. Celia lay back in the pillows of the sumptuous bed, her naked thighs apart. Kneeling, her weight dimpling the satin sheet, her head bowed submissively, Erica was tonguing Celia’s pink slit.
‘There,’ Mandy whispered. ‘These two have yet to know the sovereignty of a man. They have yet to taste firm male flesh. A challenge fit for the loins of a desert prince, no? And to capture and tame both – such a princely prize,’ she suggested, fingering his vanity with her honeyed tongue. ‘But beware, Ozzam. Any man who dares to tame and train them in order to ride their rebellious thighs must bring a brutal tenderness to the bed. Even if he be a prince, he must approach such tigresses masterfully, whip in hand.’
He grunted softly and nodded. She saw him peering as if hypnotised through the thick glass, his face a mask of stern pleasure as Celia shrieked and came: writhing and twisting. Turning her gaze back to the one-way mirror, Mandy saw the solicitor clawing at and squeezing her breasts as she ground her wide buttocks into the satin beneath.
‘There are many reasons guiding your decision,’ Mandy said softly, insinuating the idea in his brain. ‘Many.’
‘Why should I trouble to take these bitches back to Beirut?’
‘If you return empty-handed, your trip will have been an expensive waste of time. And,’ she added, calculating the effect carefully, ‘you will lose face. You must return to your house of pleasure with a worthwhile prize. Take them back to Beirut. When you have savoured their-flesh, put them to work for you.’
‘They would make an interesting addition,’ he agreed, as if adding two thoroughbreds to his stable.
‘And the cropped blonde would make a splendid disciplinarian. She would keep your seraglio in strict order.’
‘That is good. Sometimes the girls become difficult. They require firm handling. Discipline would be good,’ he conceded.
‘And Celia –’
‘Ah,’ he whispered, ‘you speak of the bitch who proposed to cheat me over Sternwood Grange.’
‘You are entitled to your fill of revenge. Satisfy yourself with her, then put her to work for you. She is a skilled lawyer with a sound commercial brain. Put her under the whip, and your books under her, and watch your profits grow.’
Mandy saw what she had looked for: his eyes narrowed, a glint of greed sparkling deep in their depths. She was winning his mind. Now it was time to capture his body.
‘Excellent advice, English rose. But how do I get –’
‘Leave it to me. Trust me, and I will not disappoint you. I do not seek to cheat you of your money. Sternwood Grange is mine, and is not for sale.’
‘Not for sale,’ he echoed, clenching his fist. ‘I have been made a fool of in my people’s eyes. She will pay a keen price for that.’
‘You, and you alone, must exact that price, Ozzam. But you will not leave completely disappointed. Sternwood Grange prides itself on its hospitality. Kneel.’
His eyes flickered expectantly.
‘Kneel,’ she urged. ‘It is my wish that you enjoy these two. I will guide you through their weaknesses and expose you to their desires. Armed with such knowledge of them, you will be able to penetrate their resistance and bend them to both your flesh and your will.’
Breathing hard, he knelt closer to the glass panel, returning his fierce gaze to the room beyond. There, on the bed, he saw Celia’s hair flounce as she mercilessly spanked Erica. The cropped blonde’s reddening bottom faced the one-way mirror. Ozzam’s tongue licked his dry lips as he watched the solicitor’s firm, slim hand sweep down harshly across the upturned cheeks. Erica squealed and threshed her legs. Celia dominantly trapped the punished blonde’s feet and continued the harsh spanking.
‘Watch,’ Mandy whispered in his ear, fishing out his penis to palm its hot length in her cool hand.
Steadying himself against the glass with outstretched arms, Ozzam shuffled his knees and spread his thighs apart. She started to pump him slowly, curling her fingers tightly around his swollen flesh and jerking her wrist sinuously in strict time with the spanking hand ravishing Erica’s bare bottom. He stiffened to a shaft of steel; his belly and shoulders tensed. Celia brought the erotic chastisement to a painful conclusion with a staccato flourish of eight searing spanks; Mandy pumped vigorously eight delicious times. As Erica slithered, hot bottomed and squealing, down from Celia’s thighs, Ozzam came, clouding the glass of the one-way mirror with his spurting release. He groaned sweetly and sank back, spent. Mandy caught the pungent whiff of his sweat, his excitement and his hot, male lust.
In the room beyond the glass, Mandy saw the solicitor selecting a black and gold dildo. Palming the phallus, she weighed its nine curved inches then traced its wicked snout with her fingertip. Erica got on all fours and crawled to the feet of her dominant mistress. Kneeling up, she crushed her breasts into the straddling thighs, gazing unblinkingly into the dark pubic curls.
‘You must watch and learn,’ Mandy encouraged. ‘It is essential that you discover all their secrets.’
Ozzam obeyed, kneeling up once more against the one-way mirror and surrendering his semi-erect shaft to Mandy’s controlling hand.
‘Observe. Learn their appetites and discover their lustful yearnings. With each new revelation, they deliver themselves into your power,’ Mandy purred, gripping his engorged shaft tightly in her left hand and palm-polishing the hot, slippery head with her right.
Beyond the lust-smeared glass, Celia was probing Erica’s open mouth with the gold-tipped length of ebony.
‘See? The cropped blonde takes her pleasure there, in the mouth. Note it well, Ozzam,’ Mandy urged, her supple wrist now pumping him gently. She sensed his buttocks tighten and felt his veined thickness swell within her encircling grasp.
‘See how eagerly she tongues it, sucks on it. This is your sure and certain knowledge, Ozzam. Now she must take you, even if you have to bind her hands behind her back the first few times.’
He remained silent, but his twitching erection spoke eloquently of the plans he had for Erica in the humble Beirut house of pleasures. Mandy pumped harder. Faster. Through the glass, they watched Erica turn and crouch, face and breasts crushed into the carpet, offering up her buttocks.
‘Look. The cropped blonde accepts it there. Look, and remember, Ozzam. She will, when naked in your bed, deny you nothing.’
The grey-eyed solicitor stroked the cleft between the eager cheeks before probing the tight anal whorl. In the darkness of their hiding place, Ozzam grunted and steadied himself against the glass. Mandy increased the tempo of her pleasuring hand as she jerked him towards his third climax. Their view of Erica, now squealing her orgasm into the carpet, was blurred by the sudden splatter of Ozzam’s hot release.
‘You will have much pleasure training these two in your bed,’ she murmured, milking him expertly. He shuddered as she thumbed his hot, wet helmet. ‘But be firm with them,’ Mandy continued, ‘such women are strong willed.’
‘They will find how persuasive I can be,’ he replied softly.
‘Spare your words and use the whip. Leather speaks a tongue all women understand.’
‘I have seen enough,’ Ozzam said huskily, his eyes bleary with exhaustion. ‘I am convinced, English ros
e.’ He struggled to rise.
‘No, not yet. Wait,’ Mandy urged. ‘They have not finished. Wait a little while and watch them at their forbidden sport. You will learn much more, I promise you. It is a rare privilege for a man, even one such as you, Ozzam, to witness the crimson rites of Lesbos.’
‘Such things are not so rare to behold. I have witnessed these female games many times, my little English rose. Why, every night in Beirut, we put on a live floor show –’
‘Perhaps. But then, the players know there is an audience. Tonight, Ozzam, they know not of your prying eyes. You are a witness to that which is forbidden to the sight of all men.’
He nodded, and she saw a smile of satisfaction spread across his sensual mouth. Mandy smiled her own secret smile as she felt his erection rise up once more within her curled fist.
‘You have advised me well, English rose. Your words are true. It is as if I were invisible, right there in the room with them –’
‘Watch,’ Mandy hissed. ‘Take note. The kneeling blonde is about to pay full homage. Thus it will be when she is naked at your feet.’
She gripped his erection and coaxed it into a fierce spear of angry flesh once more as they peered together, their faces almost touching, through the lust-smeared one-way mirror.
They saw Celia standing and squeezing her breasts almost viciously, her thighs wide apart, as the blonde kneeling before her wedged the base of the black dildo in between her teeth and guided it up towards the hot slit above. Ozzam gasped as Erica’s face inched closer, then closer still, driving the black wand deeper inside the flesh of her dominatrix.
Mandy pumped. Celia arched up on tiptoe, a soft scream torn from her parted lips. The solicitor buried her taloned hands in the cropped blonde’s hair as Erica thrust her face repeatedly into the pubis. Mandy saw the pale face of the kneeling nude grow wet and glisten as Erica rammed the cruel phallus home, bringing her lips repeatedly against Celia’s labia in a frenzy of carnal kissing.
The Mistress of Sternwood Grange Page 24
