Sins of the Master

by Catherine Taylor

  She smiled. “I was worried I was going to cop it for yelling and swearing at you.”

  “You were right, too, about Vanessa. You should be the first one I confide in. I suppose I’ve just got into the habit of protecting you and sometimes I forget that you’re quite adept at dealing with the worst situations without my help.”

  “No, I’m not. It’s because I have you to answer to, that I do stop and think things out a bit. Maybe one day I won’t need that, but I’ll tell you then. Until that time, you still have to be my mean, grumpy husband that keeps me in line.”

  James chuckled softly. “Good, because I’m going to deal with your potty mouth later.”

  “You swore more than I did.”

  He glanced a frown at her. “Are you arguing with me?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No, Sir.”

  Her thoughts drifted back to her father. Her heart was hurting for him, imagining the shame and anger he had to be feeling. It made her think of the one news that could make him forget everything else. Somehow she had to get a pregnancy test, and then tell James, when the right moment came up, and deal with his reaction.

  Mairead laughed softly to herself and gripped James’ hand tighter. “So we’re in this together, no matter what?”

  “No matter what,” he confirmed. “And you won’t be leaving my sight for a second. I have to speak to Vanessa later, so I’ll see about us having the week off.”

  “She’ll understand.” Mairead frowned. “How much does she know about Dylan?”

  “She knows that he has helped us and not to talk about him with anyone.”

  “But what if his name starts getting out in the papers, saying he’s some murderer?”

  “Then she will assume that I know what I’m doing and accept my judgement.” James glanced at her. “I trust Vanessa as much as you trust Dylan.”

  For a while Mairead allowed herself to be content having James back with her, but as the car entered the city, her anxiety flared up. She stared out at the busy streets, half expecting to see some tattooed Russian gang ready to ambush them.

  “How safe are we, James?”

  He glanced at her. “I take it you haven’t noticed the car that has followed us all the way?”

  She sat up, turning back to look at the cars behind them. “Who’s following us?”

  “Dylan’s security. He warned me they’ll be close by.”

  “How do we tell which ones are his?”

  James grinned. “They’re wearing bright pink armbands.”

  “What?” Mairead laughed. “What the hell for?”

  “Dylan’s weird humour I would suggest. We passed another car before, with two guys wearing the same. I think we’re fairly secure.”

  Mairead still felt nervous until they were finally at the hotel and on their way to her father’s room. Joanne opened the door and smiled, trying to hide her worry. Sean was sitting at a small table, watching the television. He clicked it off with the remote and got up to shake James’ hand and hug Mairead.

  “What happened, Sean?” James asked.

  “The bastards threw me out,” Sean grumbled. “Didn’t get three steps inside the building when I’m met by those black op bastards and shuttled off to a private room. Martin Kutcher was there and that arsehole, Bevan Miller, trying to feed me a heap of bullshit. Security risk, my arse. I’ve walked through those doors every week for the past thirty years and they turn around and treat me like that.”

  “And what did Kutcher say?”

  “Oh, he tried to smooth it over, saying it was for my own benefit, that I didn’t want to get caught up in all the tension. He tried to make as if he didn’t know much, but he knows plenty. I’ve known the prick long enough to know what he’s like. He’s got his finger in every pie, I can tell you.”

  “So this security risk,” Mairead said tentatively. “What did he mean?”

  “I don’t know. The whole things got me beat. Who the hell could have wanted Lance dead? And Vivian… it’s just bloody madness. And James dragged into this other bullshit and now they’re asking me questions about some bastard I barely know…”

  “Who?”

  “That photographer friend of yours. That one that gave you that picture. Tyler.”

  “What did they want to know, Daddy?”

  “How long I’ve known him. Have I ever seen him at your house? I told them they’re all a bunch of bloody idiots. What’s he got to do with anything? Then Bevan Miller from SIS, gives me his sweet talk, assures me that I’ll be on full pay and should treat this as a holiday. Holiday my arse. I want to know what the hell is going on. I’m a representative to the people, voted in constitutionally and bloody ready to do my job. I’d take it to the bloody media if they hadn’t slapped a gag order on me.”

  “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” Mairead offered.

  “Ah, it’s not your fault, baby girl.” He sat down heavily and peered at her, frowning. “And what was your interest in Mary? How’s that all been sledged up again? And Brendan North turning up out of nowhere. What the hell does everyone seem to know that I don’t?”

  Mairead looked to James to take the lead. He pulled out a chair for her and another for Joanne.

  She shook her head. “I’m going to finish getting ready for dinner. I’ll let you all talk.”

  James took her seat. “Someone set me up to take the responsibility for the attack on Brendan and since I’m married to your daughter…”

  “It shouldn’t make a difference,” Sean argued. “If we were always held accountable for what our families got up to, then half the House would be empty.”

  “Sean, the apartment Brendon was assaulted in belonged to Vivian Easton. That’s where they’re seeing a connection. ”

  Sean frowned. “What the hell was Lance doing getting involved with that idiot?”

  “I don’t know,” James replied. “But I’m implicated and they’ve deemed you guilty by association. I’m sorry, Sean.”

  “Rubbish,” Sean waved him off, staring down at the table thoughtfully. “Brendan North. Mary Whittaker. Can’t believe they’re bringing that up again. Let the poor woman rest in peace.”

  James frowned at him. “They never did find the person who murdered her, did they?”

  “No, but you’re not telling me that her death and the Easton’s are connected, which seems to be the rumour floating about. Utter bullshit and a waste of time. The focus should be on finding Adele.”

  Mairead nodded. “I shouldn’t care, but I do. I just want her to be alright.”

  “Yes, me too. Anyway, you’re here to join us for dinner so let’s make the most of it. First let me go and see Joanne. I think she’s sick of hearing me whinge.”

  When he had gone into the bedroom, Mairead looked at James. “I meant that. Whatever has happened between Adele and me, I don’t want her to be suffering or worse.”

  “I know,” James smiled. “And I’m trying to make an effort to feel the same, but there’s something else I want to talk about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This Mary Whittaker business. It was Dylan in that car park with her that night.”

  Mairead nodded. “Sure was.”

  James sat back staring at her. He leaned in and spoke quietly. “Are you telling me, that Mary Whittaker was one of Dylan’s slaves?”

  “Yep.”

  He sat back again, shaking his head. “You know what happened to her, don’t you?”

  “She was murdered in Paris,” Mairead replied quietly. “But he didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re thinking. He told me he didn’t.”

  James didn’t answer and remained staring at her.

  “What?” Mairead asked. “Don’t look at me like that. He didn’t do it.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Well, for one, she was stabbed multiple times and beaten. That doesn’t sound like something Dylan would do, and he certainly wouldn’t let them find her body.”

  James peered at he
r. “How do you do that? You see the obvious that no-one else can see, until you’ve said it and yes, it does make sense. So is there anything else I need to know about?”

  “Nothing comes to mind at,” she smiled. Her stomach rumbled as if to accuse her. “Not a thing.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  After fastening the chain to the ankle cuff, Dylan remained crouched, taking Esther’s hips in his hand to turn her to him and plant a soft kiss to her pubic mound. He stood up and grinned at her anxious face before striding to the other end of the chain. Pulling on it, he watched as her foot was hoisted up to shoulder level. Suspended and poised on one leg, Esther looked like a naked ballerina in an arabesque stance, with her vagina fully exposed. As he picked up the multi-strand whip, he could hear her breathing getting faster.

  Strolling back to her, he shifted the thick handle and ran it back and forth between her labia, stretched wide by her position and clearly exposing her clit. Dylan grinned as he tapped it and made Esther gasp.

  Crouching down again, he pushed the handle into her vagina and gave her a sensually slow fucking until she was groaning loudly.

  “What a dirty little girl,” he smiled, studying her and feeling her vaginal muscles clutching the leather. “You just want to be fucked, don’t you, Esther?”

  “Yes, Master, please fuck me.”

  “Oh, I will, but first you need your cunt made just the way I like it, red and swollen and stinging for when I drive my cock into it.”

  Dylan slipped the handle out and stood up, grinning at her juices over it. He twirled it around in his grip and backed away until he was behind her. Her quivering bottom made him smile and he gently lashed it a few times, introducing her to the strength and sting of the soft leather strands. They still had enough bite to make her suck in the air, and anticipate their application to a far more sensitive target.

  The first came without warning. His swing looked lazy, but the strands landed exactly where he wanted, splaying over the entirety of her vagina and ending with a stinging flick to her mound. Esther clenched her teeth and groaned at the impact, but her cries grew louder each time the whip struck. With a twist, he was able to strike her inner thighs or have a knotted end strike her clit and leave her screaming. A few curled right under her to strike the cleft between her buttocks and give a vicious kiss to her anus.

  Esther’s head lolled back and she yelled and cried as the whip punished her. To torment her further, Dylan paused to crouch down directly under her to inspect the inner flesh with his fingers. It was a deep red and shiny with her come. His tongue stretched out and delicately lapped her swollen bud and make her cry and gasp with pleasure.

  He saw her looking down at him, and he chuckled softly. “Just a small reprieve, little one. Can’t have you adjusting to the pain too quickly. Just let it ease off and when the whip returns it will have one hell of a nasty bite.”

  “Yes, Master.” Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide with anxious anticipation.

  Dylan grinned and drew her clit into his mouth, and pushing his fingers into her opening to feel how close she was to climax. Her vaginal walls were clenching powerfully and he knew that she was struggling against her need for release.

  He stood up again and held his fingers at her mouth. She needed no encouragement to greedily suck her come from them. Her hair had been tied back and he kissed her shoulder and neck, as he whispered to her.

  “I’m going to make you scream, my beautiful slut, and when your cunt if burning, I’m going to fuck you hard with my fingers buried deep in your arse.”

  “Yes, Master.” She looked at him as any lover would gaze upon their beloved.

  His eyes never left her as he backed away and returned to his position. For a while he swung the whip in a circuit, listening to the whoosh it made in the air. With a twist of his wrist he sent the strands to impact the entirety of her vagina. Esther arched her body and screamed.

  Only a few seconds lapsed until he lashed her again, making her twist about, clenching her teeth and yelling again. By the fifth strike, her cries were quietening down. Her struggles ceased and head lolled back. Dylan smiled and whipped her one last time, knowing that her pain was now lost to soaring ecstasy. Putting the whip down, he unbuckled his belt and loosened his jeans as he returned to her suspended body. Cupping her vagina he felt the heat and her come flowing from her, and took enough on his fingers to gently push against her anus until he had penetrated her.

  Esther was making a guttural groan as he invaded her. Dylan struggled to push his jeans down with one hand, far enough to release his erection.

  “Please,” Esther sighed dreamily. “Fuck me.”

  He shushed her, burying his face into the base of her neck, as his hips jerked against her, thrusting his cock into her deeply.

  He swore quietly with pleasure as his cock was sheathed inside of her. Her muscles were clenching him harder and were not about to allow him to hold out too long, no matter how much he wanted to savour and fuck her endlessly, remembering how good it had been with Esther for the last four years.

  A surge of emotion rolled over him, threatening to destroy the moment. Desperately, he grabbed and crushed her breast in his hand, eliciting a yell that echoed through the theatre with Esther arching her body. Her hips bucked and he knew he was about to lose her in a fog of release. It would end with her shame, for coming without permission.

  Any other time, that would have suited him, her failing and having to anticipate another punishment. This time he needed her to triumph, that this memory would be one of pride in herself, something to cling onto long after the welts had faded.

  “Come for me, little, one,” he whispered as he gave in to his own need.

  He clutched onto her and shared the intensity of their climax. Esther bucked and yelled, until her body went limp. He held onto her, allowing her to be lost in her pleasure. Soon she would be aware of the pain of a harsh whipping and nearly an hour of suspension.

  She felt small in his grip and he held her against himself as a child might clutch onto a toy. The scent of sweat and sex intoxicated him and for a while, time seemed endless. Too soon he was aware of his responsibilities.

  “Are you alright, Esther?”

  She breathed heavily but steady. “Yes, Master.”

  His hand reached up to unbuckle the cuffs that held her wrists, before releasing her ankle and supporting her leg as she lowered it. Slowly, he brought her down to lie back on the floor, to undo her ankle cuffs. Esther lay panting, but lifted her head to look at him.

  “I feel incredible,” she assured him. “Did I please you, Master?”

  His throat tightened and he nodded. “You were perfect.”

  She continued to stare at him as he gently massaged her ankles.

  “Are you alright, Master?”

  “Yes.” He stood up and bent over her, gathering her up in his arms and carried her to the couch. Sitting down, he cradled her against him. “Hands, feet?”

  “All good, Master. Shoulders are hurting a bit.”

  He sat her up and started massaging her with strong hands, leaning in to graze his lips against her neck. “How about a spa bath for three?”

  “Tammy will love that,” Esther smiled, luxuriating in his attentions. “She’s been so good. I thought she would come in.”

  “I gave her enough chocolate to see her way through a movie, and I threatened her with a caning if she bothered us.”

  “She loves Lady and the Tramp,” Esther mused and giggled softly. “She once said you reminded her of Tramp.”

  “Did she?” Dylan frowned. “I won’t ask why I remind her of a dog.”

  “Not anything bad, Master. Just rough around the edges and romantic like Tramp.”

  “Well right now I want to tend to those romantic marks I’ve left on your body. Lie back.” He shifted her leg behind his neck and gently examined her vagina and inner thighs. Esther began to gasp again as he touched her clit.

  “Don’t be gree
dy,” he warned her.

  “It’s so sore, Master,” she grinned. “You might have to kiss it better.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that right? Or I could just cane your arse and get your mind off your clit.”

  Esther bit her lip, still grinning. “Either would be perfectly fine with me, Master.”

  “Cheeky little brat.” He stiffened his fingers and spanked her clit until she was laughing, yelling and trying to shut her legs.

  Dylan found himself chuckling, but again emotion washed over him. Bringing her leg down, he cradled Esther against him, brushing his lips in her hair.

  “I know I neglected you these past few days. The rest of this day is for you and Tammy and I will need time alone with her.”

  “Of course, Master.”

  He stood up, still holding her. “Let’s get out of here.”

  As he carried her out, he paused to look back at the theatre and again felt the tightness in his chest. A whirlwind of memories swept through his mind, of naked bodies bowed before him. The screams and moans of pleasure seemed to fill his hearing. So many faces, looking up to him, their eyes filled with trust and submission, with belief that he would always be their champion in an unkind world.

  Switching the light off, he allowed the room to plunge into darkness and disappear behind the door. Putting Esther down, he patted her bottom. “Go and get Tammy and meet me in the spa room.”

  He had the water hot, bubbling and steamy on the girls’ return. Tammy was already excited and had stripped naked by the time she got there. Water sloshed over the sides as she climbed in with Esther. Lying back, they both watched intently as Dylan unbuckled his jeans.

  “Daddy is horny,” Tammy giggled as he removed his jeans.

  Esther laid back and allowed Tammy to claim him as he climbed in. Dylan sat back on one of the submerged ledges around the walls of the spa. Pulling Tammy backwards on to his lap, he grinned as she impaled herself onto his cock, using the weightlessness of the water to bounce on him. Esther was watching them, absently tugging at her nipples.