Mastering a Sinner (7 page)

She turned her back on him and for an instant he forgot how to breathe, but she didn’t leave, she just went to the wall of implements and took something down. His gaze settled on the leather cock rings she held in her hand.

Without speaking, she buckled the leather straps around his balls, bringing them up tight against the root of his cock, and then added the third strap around his shaft. His breath hissed out as she tightened the strap until he could feel his rapid heartbeat throbbing through his trapped cock. He lowered his head to watch her work, torn between salacious delight at her handling him so roughly, and anxiety as to how she expected him to come at all when he was trussed up so tightly.

She moved behind him again, and he felt her finger circling the oiled bud of his arse, rimming the circle, pressing inward with each swirl of her finger. He clenched his muscles as hard as he could, but she gained a fingertip of entrance. It felt like her fist . . .

“If you don’t like it, Mr. Maclean, or if I am hurting you, all you have to do is tell me to stop.”

His thoughts swirled into a chaotic muddle. He didn’t want her anywhere near his arse, but if he told her to stop, she’d think she’d won . . . He groaned as she eased her fingertip fully inside him. Despite the restriction, his cock was pumping out pre-cum, soaking the leather and making him ache with pleasure.

He tried to focus on what he wanted, of what to say to make her stop . . .

“Let me fuck you properly, Lady Theale. Keep me in these bindings, fuck me like this, don’t let me come until you are satisfied.” She pushed her finger deeper and he shook with the strangeness of it. “Beat me until I’m bloody, and then deny me your cunt. I’ll beg for you then.”

She started pumping her finger back and forth, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Panic almost made his lungs seize up. He had to stop her; he had to stop this
now.

“Are you too afraid to set me free, Lady Theale? Are you scared because what you really want is for me to overpower you and fuck you until you’re the one who is screaming?”

She removed her hands from him, and he started to smile until she walked around to face him.

“Nice try, Mr. Maclean, but I don’t need you to fuck me. I
need
you to act like a responsible man and
tell
me when you are uncomfortable with a sexual situation I might put you in.” She cupped his chin. “I’m not interested in beating you to death because you won’t accept your limits!”

“I have no limits. Fuck me properly, and I’ll show you. I can tell you this—I won’t come if you use me like this. I won’t bloody
allow
myself to.”

Her blasted smile widened. “We’ll see about that.”

She washed her hands, went to the door, and consulted with someone who sounded rather like Donal Murray. Eventually she turned back to him.

“I wish to offer you one more chance to be reasonable, Mr. Maclean. Accept that you need to tell me what you don’t like, and also when I’ve gone too far.”

“A little slip of a girl like you?” He managed to grin. “You’ll never get me to that point.”

“So be it.” She drew up a chair and sat down on it. A knock on the door made Alistair tense as she told the person to come in.

“Ah, James, I have a job for you.”

The young man dressed in the livery of the pleasure house bowed. “Yes, my lady?”

In front of Alistair’s incredulous gaze, Lady Theale handed over the vial of oil and the slim leather phallus to the footman.

“I wish you to use this on him until he comes.”

The footman studied Alistair warily. “All trussed up like this, my lady?”

“Yes, please.”

“No!” Alistair bit out the word. “You will not let him bloody touch me!”

“Did you say no, Mr. Maclean?”

“Not to you. But he’s not touching my arse.”

“All you have to do to make him stop is ask me nicely, Mr. Maclean. It’s as simple as that.” She smiled into his eyes.

“Damn you,” Alistair said.

She nodded at James. “Proceed.”

 

He was fighting so hard not to come that she wanted to shove her skirts up and finger herself until she came with him. Because he would climax. She had no doubt about that. He’d almost bitten his lower lip bloody biting down on it as James dutifully pushed the oiled phallus in and out of his arse in a regular pounding motion. His cock was straining at the leather restraints and his hips were bucking as far forward as his shackles allowed.

She held his gaze and saw his fury boiling to an incandescent rage. It might seem cruel, but if she was truly to master him, he had to understand that what he wanted was of no interest to her. Some of her lovers learned faster than others. Mr. Maclean wasn’t going to capitulate easily, but that was what made him such a prize. When he did succumb to her—if he did, he would be worth it.

“God . . .” he muttered.

She went over and cupped his cheek. “Do you have something you wish to say to me, Mr. Maclean? Have you had enough? Do you want James to stop? Just tell me and I’ll make it so.”

He tried to pull free of her fingers, his breathing labored, his skin now glistening with sweat.

“Go to hell.”

She looked over his bowed head at James.

“Faster, please.”

He nodded, and she noticed the excitement in his eyes and the thrust of his own cock pushing at his pantaloons. She would make sure that he was rewarded well for his part in Mr. Maclean’s training.

She saw the moment when Mr. Maclean could take no more and gripped his damp auburn hair, forcing him to hold her gaze as he climaxed in long spasms that made his body arch against his restraints.

“Leave the phallus inside him, James, if you please, and come here.”

“Yes, my lady.”

She beckoned for the flushed young footman to stand right in front of Mr. Maclean.

“Did you enjoy that, James?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“So I see.” She cupped his balls and rubbed her thumb over his hard cock. “Perhaps you might do one more thing for me before you go off to find some relief for yourself.”

“Anything, my lady.”

“Take the cock rings off him.”

“Yes, my lady.” James rushed to kneel at Mr. MacLean’s tethered ankles. He carefully started unbuckling the soaked leather and dropped it to the floor, hissing in sympathy. “He’ll be sore after this.”

“Good. He deserves to be.” She waited until he’d completed the task and he stood up. “Thank you, James.” She handed him a gold sovereign. “Tell Mr. Murray you’re finished.”

After he shut the door behind him before returning to Mr. Maclean. He tensed as she gently inspected his balls and the red lines that had bitten into his most tender flesh.

“I told you, you would come.”

He didn’t answer her, so she continued her inspection, aware that even as she touched him his cock was quivering into life again.

“I can still fuck you until you can’t take any more.” He growled the words at her, and she hid a smile. She would’ve been disappointed if he’d capitulated now. . . .

“Oh, Mr. Maclean,” she cooed. “How can you do that when I haven’t finished fucking
you?
”

His breathing hitched and his horrified gaze sprang upward to her face. She wrapped her hand around his growing cock and gently squeezed.

“We’re not done. Unless you have something to say to me?”

His lips pressed together as if to stop any words escaping.

“Are you quite certain?”

There was another knock at the door and a blond-haired footman entered. Diana smiled into Mr. Maclean’s leaf-green eyes. “You did say you wanted to fuck until you ran out of come, didn’t you?”

 

Alistair closed his eyes and tried not to moan as the third footman used the phallus on his sore arse. He’d already come twice. His hips were thrusting forward as though caught in some nightmarish mating ritual that demanded a human sacrifice.
He
was that sacrifice. His cock was in agony, he wanted to scream that he couldn’t take any more, but he had to endure, he
had
to.

Because
she
sat there, watching him, waiting for him to give in and beg her to stop the torment. And he would not beg. He would
not
...

“Stop.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Alistair held himself still as she came over to him and grabbed his hair, bringing his face up to hers.

“Give in to me, Mr. Maclean. Ask me to end this.”

“No.” He forced the word out and heard the sound of the door shutting behind the footman. She leaned around his shaking body and removed the phallus and then returned to study his face.

“Give in to me.”

She gently kissed his bloodied mouth, little kisses that teased and ignited his senses. He jerked his head away and hissed at her.

“I know that you want me to get angry with you, Mr. Maclean. You want me to lose control and flog you so you can enjoy the release that gives you.”

“I want you to lose control, so I can fuck you so hard you’ll be the one begging.”

Damn her, he wanted to throw himself at her feet and order her to hurt him. He didn’t want her to be gentle; he wanted her to beat him senseless.
That
he understood. She sank down onto her knees in a froth of black silk, leaving him staring at the lush curves of her bosom.

She licked his sore, beleaguered cock, and he moaned. She did it again and drew him gently into her mouth, bathing him in her saliva until he started to grow bigger. God, he hurt. It was heaven, but it was also hell.

“Don’t be kind.” He forced the words out. “Don’t—do this.”

She continued to hold him in her mouth licking and sucking him until he was erect again, and God, that hurt even more. Reaching around his hips, she slid her palms over his buttocks and cupped them, her thumbs sliding lower to penetrate his arse.

He bucked against her, his cock extending another painful inch and she slowly sucked him in rhythm to the pulse of her fingers.

“I can’t—”

Alistair closed his eyes as she used him and fought hopelessly against the mechanics of his own body, which yearned for her to take him and to make him hers.

“Ah, God . . .” He climaxed, and it was like his cock spurted blistering molten metal. Each spasm went on for too long and racked his body until he had nothing left to give her. Nothing but the useless thrust of his hips and his now empty cock.

She released him and moved away, washing her hands and then wiping her mouth with her dainty lace handkerchief. For the first time, he was glad of the restraints holding him steady or else his knees would have folded and he would’ve been on the floor at her feet. He’d rather crawl away to a dark corner somewhere she couldn’t see him and lick his own wounds. When he finally had the strength to look up, she was watching him from her chair, her gaze serene.

“Do you have something you wish to say to me, Mr. Maclean?”

He shook his head.

“Then I will leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening.” She nodded at him and turned toward the door. “I’ll send Donal Murray to set you free.”

“You don’t trust me not to hurt you, do you?” he growled. “You’re right about that. If I was free right now, I’d wring your bloody neck.”

She went still and slowly swung around to face him again. “I am not afraid of you.” Opening the door she shouted, “Donal!”

He appeared quickly, his appreciative gaze taking stock of Alistair’s nakedness, and then turned to Lady Theale. “Yes, my lady?”

“Please release Mr. Scott. I am done with him.”

She smiled at Donal and left without a backward glance, leaving Alistair wanting to shout after her and beg her to return. But he wouldn’t do that. She’d humiliated him, and that was unacceptable.

Donal Murray knelt at his feet and started to work on the first buckle. “Right, let’s get you free.”

Even as Alistair allowed himself to be helped, he had a terrible sense that thanks to Diana Theale, he would never be completely free again.

7

“A
re you all right, Alistair? Is your chair uncomfortable?”

Alistair smiled at the countess. “My hip doesn’t appreciate these rainy days and makes it hard for me to sit still.”

“Then sit beside me on the chaise.” The countess patted the seat beside her, and Alistair moved gratefully over to the well-upholstered couch. It wasn’t his hip that pained him, but his arse, and he was hardly going to admit that in present company.

“Thank you, my lady.” He shuffled the pile of papers he balanced on his knee. “I wanted to ask about Lady Theale.”

“She is settling in very well. I have no complaints, and I think my dear Malinda feels the same. Diana’s been very helpful arranging things at the new house for her.”

“I’m sure she has,” Alistair said. “I actually wanted to discuss another matter. As Nicodemus said he wasn’t comfortable investigating his own stepmother, I wondered who
had
checked that Lady Theale was a suitable candidate for this very sensitive role at the Sinners.”

The countess sat back and studied Alistair’s face. “Why are you so interested in Diana’s credentials?”

“I’m not. I’ve just learned to be careful. Her arrival just seemed somewhat propitious. How did she come to your attention?”

“I believe Malinda knows an acquaintance of hers, and heard about the terrible circumstances Diana was left in after her husband’s death. When the idea of us having our own secretary came up, Malinda thought about Diana, and wrote to Charlotte to ascertain if Diana would be interested in such a position.”

“So no one investigated her past? She was taken on trust?”

“I didn’t quite say
that,
dear. Malinda made certain that we knew exactly what we were dealing with.”

Alistair schooled his expression into one of great interest, but unfortunately, the countess didn’t elaborate.

“So you are content with her story?”

“I believe so. Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Not that I know of, my lady—not yet.”

“That sounds rather ominous. Are you two not getting along?”

“We—” For a second, Alistair’s mouth refused to form another word. “We are perfectly in harmony, my lady. I was concerned because I hadn’t received any information about her past from our usual sources.”

The countess patted his hand. “Don’t worry about that, Alistair. I assure you that Malinda and I are perfectly safe.”

“Then I will accept that Lady Theale is a valuable member of our household.” He went to rise, but she kept hold of his hand. “Is there something else, my lady?”

“Nico said you were asking him about the Demon Club.”

“That’s correct.”

She squeezed his fingers. “Are you in debt to them? If you are, tell me how much you owe them, and I will either give you the money or advance the sum from your wages to pay the amount off in full.” She shivered. “The owners of that gambling den are the worst kind of men who prey on the unwary and ruin innocent lives.”

“I have incurred no debts with them, my lady.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her. “I swear it.”

“Then I will let you go.”

He kissed her hand and stood up. “Thank you, my lady. If you don’t mind, I’ll go through to Lady Theale’s office and leave this correspondence on her desk.”

“She’s not there, so you won’t disturb her. She went with Malinda to the new house to inspect some of the new furniture that arrived this morning.”

“It is of no matter if she isn’t there. I’ve already written her a note about what to do with these letters.” He had no intention of seeking Diana Theale out for the rest of his life. His cock ached in sympathy at the thought, and he bowed and withdrew.

After a perfunctory knock on her office door, he let himself in and was immediately hit by the elusive scent of her rose perfume. His shaft stirred even more and he gently cupped himself.

“No, you fool, stay down. She doesn’t deserve your attention.” He carefully placed the pile of documents in the exact center of Diana Theale’s desk. After a quick glance at the closed door, he took the opportunity to search her desk, but found nothing of interest. If he wanted to get a sense of who she really was, he’d probably need to search her bedchamber.

But how would he gain access to that without her knowing? He suddenly thought of the large bundle of keys Adam Fisher had given him when he’d joined the Sinners. During his first two weeks he’d tried every key in every lock until he’d identified it, and then he’d labeled each one for future reference.

Hurrying back to his office, he pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and started sorting through the carefully organized keys until he found the one he wanted. With a triumphant smile, he walked quickly through the house and up to the first floor, where the Westbrook apartment was situated. After another quick glance around to check he was unobserved, he unlocked the door and went inside.

Her rose scent was stronger here, and he paused for a second to breathe it in and remember how it had felt when she’d kissed him so gently on his bloodied lips....

Damn her.

Shaking off his inconveniently lustful thoughts, he made a thorough, but careful search of the sitting room and then went into the bedroom. He couldn’t help imagine her sprawled naked on the sheets while he fucked her hard, and she begged him never to stop. Not that he’d ever get to fuck her. She’d made sure of that.

There was an unfolded note on the dressing table, and he went over to read it. The handwriting was not familiar, but distinctly feminine.

Alistair considered the cryptic note for a long moment. If he was the suspicious type, he might assume that it referred to Harry. If it
did
refer to Harry, then Lady Theale had lied to him about her interest in his brother.

Charlotte . . .

The note had obviously been delivered by hand and bore only the words “Lady Theale” on the reverse and the remains of a red wax seal. Was it possible that this was the same woman Lady Benedict knew? Alistair studied the seal closely and wondered why it looked so familiar. He thought he could make out the letter
P
.

Abandoning his search, Alistair replaced the note exactly where he’d found it, locked the door, and went in search of Maddon the butler. He found him in the kitchen reading the morning paper and drinking tea.

“Good morning, Mr. Maclean. May I assist you with something?”

“Yes, don’t get up.” Alistair waved him back down into his seat. “I was wondering whether you received any messages from the pleasure house recently.”

Maddon frowned. “Are you expecting something, sir?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie; he maintained regular contact with Christian over the entertainment on the second floor.

The butler put down his cup. “The only note I’ve taken in from the pleasure house in the last day or so was for Lady Theale. Do you wish me to inquire as to whether the message was meant for you?”

“There’s no need for that,” Alistair said quickly. “To be quite frank, I’m probably expecting a reply far too promptly. I’m quite happy to go and
ask
Mr. Delornay whether he has an answer for me yet. Please don’t trouble yourself.” He smiled at the butler. “The exercise will do me good.”

“If you are sure, sir.”

“If anyone asks for me, please tell them that I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alistair found his hat and coat and walked around to the pleasure house, cutting through the garden at the center of the square to appreciate the flowers and the greenery that always struggled to survive in the city. It was still a far cry from his Scottish homeland, where bracken and heather predominated on the steep hillsides and the sun rarely shined. Was that where Harry had gone? Would he find some peace there?

After greeting the footman stationed in the front hall and asking to speak to Christian, Alistair was taken through to the owner’s office. Christian was working at his desk, his blond head bent to his task as he filled in a huge ledger with his small, neat handwriting.

“Mr. Maclean. How may I help you?”

Alistair took the seat Christian offered him and considered how best to approach the subject. “I’ve reason to believe that the woman who threatened to shoot me the other night might be connected to your establishment.”

“But after luring you in here, she walked right through the building and left immediately.”

“She had a key for Barrington Square. All she had to do was leave through the front entrance, throw off her disguise, and reenter through the Barrington house at her leisure.”

“Why do you believe that?”

“Because of further evidence I have acquired. Do you have a woman named Charlotte on your staff?”

Christian interlaced his fingers and looked down at them. “You know I am not at liberty to discuss my employees or the members of the club with anyone. This place thrives on anonymity.”

“That’s not very helpful.”

“Unless this ‘Charlotte’ is officially wanted by the government for High Treason, I am unable to confirm her existence, or lack of it. You of all people should understand this. You go by the name of Mr. Scott here. I have never shared your true identity with your brother, your employers, or anyone connected to the Sinners.”

“And I appreciate it.” Alistair sighed. “If you do know this woman, could you at least ask her what is going on?”

Christian raised an eyebrow and remained annoyingly silent.

“Fine,” Alistair snapped. “There is one more thing you might help me with. Apparently, Harry turned up at the Sinners one night with a new lover. Do you know who that might be?”

Christian sat back. “Now, I can tell you something about
him
because he was banned from the pleasure house.”

“Banned? He must have behaved very badly indeed for that to happen.”

“He insulted my wife.”

“Oh dear.” Alistair knew how fiercely Christian protected Elizabeth and was faintly surprised that the other man was still breathing. “What’s his name?”

“Sir Ronald Fairbanks.”

“Wasn’t he ennobled by the Crown for his services to the banking industry?”

“Yes, he’s been propping up the Hanoverians’ finances for years.” Christian wrinkled his nose. “I am all for the advancement of the
hoi polloi,
but that man is an insufferable idiot.”

“If he commented unfavorably on your wife in front of you, then obviously.”

Christian still didn’t smile. “He met Harry here just before I banned him. I attempted to dissuade your brother from engaging with the man, but he didn’t listen.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. Do you know if they are still together?”

“I haven’t heard, but it wouldn’t shock me if they were. Why do you need this information?”

Alistair decided to be honest. “Because Harry has bolted. He has many friends, but few who have the money to help him out of his present financial crisis. I wondered if he’d gone to Sir Ronald. I also wondered if Sir Ronald had any connection with the Demon Club.”

Christian went still. “Considering what I know of that place, it should have occurred to me that Fairbanks was a member there. He seems just the type to thrive on the misery of others. It would also explain why he attempted to ingratiate himself with my wife.”

“You’ve been there?”

“I have. He might have heard some of the old stories about what happened to me and Elizabeth there.” Christian sighed. “Dammit. I hoped that after I’d dealt with Lord Kelveston and his bitch of a wife, the place would cease to exist.” He fixed Alistair with his piercing blue gaze. “What do you know of it?”

“I had a letter demanding repayment of a substantial debt Harry acquired there. I sent the information on to him. Later that same day, I had a visit from a Lord Blaydon, who very politely informed me that the debt had been placed in my name and I was considered responsible for paying it back. I equally politely informed
him
that I had no intention of paying him a single penny, at which point he smiled and threatened to carry out his purpose regardless.”

Christian shook his head. “The Demon Club has always enjoyed bringing debtors to justice. The problem is that in the past they were often the ones who created the debts in the first place.”

“You mean the place is dishonest?”

“It certainly used to be. I don’t recommend you attempt to find out.”

“I certainly don’t wish to have anything to do with it, but I prefer to be informed.”

“Where’s Harry now?”

“As I said, I’m not sure, but Lord Blaydon intimated that if he didn’t settle his debt soon, I would be obliged to do so in his stead.”

Christian sat forward. “May I offer you some advice? Don’t attempt to pay off your brother’s debt this time. Let them find him, and let him suffer the consequences of his behavior.”

“But you said the place was deadly.”

“It is, but if the Demon Club can’t bring your brother to his senses, I suspect nothing will. Their methods of extracting payment when money isn’t readily available are . . . inventive. A dose of public humiliation might be just what Harry needs.”

Alistair held himself rigidly still. “He is still my brother.”

“And you have protected him for years, everyone knows that. He’s twenty-five, Alistair. Don’t you think it’s time for him to finally grow up?”

Alistair nodded and stood up. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Delornay. And if you can find out anything about Charlotte, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course. Good-bye, Mr. Maclean.”

At least he had a name to put to his brother’s lover. As to the rest? He’d not achieved much, but if Charlotte was living at the pleasure house, he knew Christian would alert her to his interest. If she was willing to talk to him honestly, he might be closer to solving both Harry’s issues and his own.