the polished wood with her heel, she said, 'Do I take it you're ready to make a deal?'
His features were stern. Every trace of frivolity was etched away as he transformed himself into a ruthless, efficient businessman. 'Have Jason bring these three to my study,' he decided. 'We can talk business in there.'
CHAPTER THREE
Helena led Rachel back to her bedroom, keeping one arm around her waist to provide support. After the trauma of the reading the redhead still felt drained and weakened. With every other step she worried her knees were going to buckle but, worse than any other symptom, she remained congested with a loathsome, dark arousal.
Helena waited until the bedroom door was closed before asking 'What happened this evening?' The halls of Master Vince's homes were not places for discussing private matters and both women knew better than to talk while there was a danger of being overheard. 'What happened? What did the cards show you?'
Rachel collapsed miserably on the bed.
Of all the torments in Master Vince's home, of all the humiliating roles she could have been chosen to fulfil, she believed her position as his tarocco reader had to rank as the worst. He kept a harem of pliant sex slaves in the east wing - each available for the pleasures of the master or his guests, and all agreeable to any demand regardless of its depravity - and Rachel envied every one of those women. For crueller practices - for those occasions when he was entertaining pony-carters or tournament players - the master maintained a small army of athletic masochists. Their bodies were exercised to a discipline of feminine perfection and they were regularly tested to the thresholds of pain and beyond. Writhing on her bed, caught in the throes of bitter frustration, Rachel also envied each of those women. Torn by fury and unsatisfied need, she buried her face in a pillow and hammered her fists against the mattress. Considering the master's empire, Rachel believed he could have found a thousand alternative roles for her to fulfil, any of which would have been more rewarding than her position as his tarocco reader. Through a veil of tears she bemoaned the misfortune of her unfulfilling role and despised the unsatisfied arousal it always inspired.
'You were on edge all evening,' Helena complained.
She sounded worried and placed a comforting hand on Rachel's bare back. The contact was a frisson of unparalleled delight and a crackle of raw need arced through Rachel's body.
Seemingly oblivious to the responses she evoked, Helena continued haranguing her mistress. 'You said there was going to be suffering ahead and you said you were going to deal with it. What happened, mistress? What happened?'
Still trying to put the events of the evening out of her mind, Rachel didn't reply. Reading the tarocco had left her with needs that demanded satisfaction and, as her arousal continued to swell, she decided she wasn't going to answer any of Helena's questions until her desires had been met. She pulled her face from the pillow, glared at the servant and said, 'Bind my tits.'
Helena looked set to refuse until Rachel glared at her. Knowing better than to argue - seeming to realise that Rachel wouldn't want to hear how Master Vince expressly forbade such practices - she went to the loose floorboard that concealed all their contraband. Fumbling quickly through their secret store, she retrieved the buckled strap Rachel preferred for this torment. The length of leather was long enough to repeatedly circle both breasts and its slender width made the task of binding easier. Anxious to please the redhead, and working carefully to avoid her chains, Helena wrapped the strap excruciatingly tight.
Rachel moaned. Both orbs were painfully restricted and the sensations of bondage and vulnerability promised relief from the knot of frustration that weighed in her stomach. The tight, circling bands left her nipples acutely
His features were stern. Every trace of frivolity was etched away as he transformed himself into a ruthless, efficient businessman. 'Have Jason bring these three to my study,' he decided. 'We can talk business in there.'
CHAPTER THREE
Helena led Rachel back to her bedroom, keeping one arm around her waist to provide support. After the trauma of the reading the redhead still felt drained and weakened. With every other step she worried her knees were going to buckle but, worse than any other symptom, she remained congested with a loathsome, dark arousal.
Helena waited until the bedroom door was closed before asking 'What happened this evening?' The halls of Master Vince's homes were not places for discussing private matters and both women knew better than to talk while there was a danger of being overheard. 'What happened? What did the cards show you?'
Rachel collapsed miserably on the bed.
Of all the torments in Master Vince's home, of all the humiliating roles she could have been chosen to fulfil, she believed her position as his tarocco reader had to rank as the worst. He kept a harem of pliant sex slaves in the east wing - each available for the pleasures of the master or his guests, and all agreeable to any demand regardless of its depravity - and Rachel envied every one of those women. For crueller practices - for those occasions when he was entertaining pony-carters or tournament players - the master maintained a small army of athletic masochists. Their bodies were exercised to a discipline of feminine perfection and they were regularly tested to the thresholds of pain and beyond. Writhing on her bed, caught in the throes of bitter frustration, Rachel also envied each of those women. Torn by fury and unsatisfied need, she buried her face in a pillow and hammered her fists against the mattress. Considering the master's empire, Rachel believed he could have found a thousand alternative roles for her to fulfil, any of which would have been more rewarding than her position as his tarocco reader. Through a veil of tears she bemoaned the misfortune of her unfulfilling role and despised the unsatisfied arousal it always inspired.
'You were on edge all evening,' Helena complained.
She sounded worried and placed a comforting hand on Rachel's bare back. The contact was a frisson of unparalleled delight and a crackle of raw need arced through Rachel's body.
Seemingly oblivious to the responses she evoked, Helena continued haranguing her mistress. 'You said there was going to be suffering ahead and you said you were going to deal with it. What happened, mistress? What happened?'
Still trying to put the events of the evening out of her mind, Rachel didn't reply. Reading the tarocco had left her with needs that demanded satisfaction and, as her arousal continued to swell, she decided she wasn't going to answer any of Helena's questions until her desires had been met. She pulled her face from the pillow, glared at the servant and said, 'Bind my tits.'
Helena looked set to refuse until Rachel glared at her. Knowing better than to argue - seeming to realise that Rachel wouldn't want to hear how Master Vince expressly forbade such practices - she went to the loose floorboard that concealed all their contraband. Fumbling quickly through their secret store, she retrieved the buckled strap Rachel preferred for this torment. The length of leather was long enough to repeatedly circle both breasts and its slender width made the task of binding easier. Anxious to please the redhead, and working carefully to avoid her chains, Helena wrapped the strap excruciatingly tight.
Rachel moaned. Both orbs were painfully restricted and the sensations of bondage and vulnerability promised relief from the knot of frustration that weighed in her stomach. The tight, circling bands left her nipples acutely
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