Tuition Ch. 04.5

Bailey's hackles went down a fraction. "Two champagnes then. And the good stuff, not the horse-piss Bastian tries to palm off on these proles." She ordered as she wafted her hand in the general direction of my guests.

Bailey seemed determined to piss off everyone in the room. Situation normal then

Without a 'please' or a 'thank you' she dismissed Mary by turning her back on her. She glanced at me to see if her barb had struck home. I kept my face impassive.

"I'd heard Mary was still working here." She said to me, honeyed poison still dripping from her words. "Are you still fucking the old bitch Bastian? Is that why you keep her on? Couldn't do without our wet-nurse? Worried she'd have to whore on the streets if did the sensible thing and let her go? I've been told you're losing your grip here. That you are too........soft to run this household properly?"

I made every effort not to glance at Wren, but my eyes must have flickered in his direction -- and Bailey noticed. Her vicious smile of satisfaction showed she felt she had drawn first blood.

Trying to sound as natural as possible I asked, "You think I should be harder Bailey? Like you? You feel you could do a better job with Shornecliffe?"

Before she could respond I went on. "Within a year you'd be selling the family silver to fund your so called 'life-style' and the money would be snorted up the noses of your coke-whore hangers-on."

Now it was Bailey's turn to betray herself, by looking at her Arab friend. Then she turned her gaze on me, fury glittering in her eyes.

"One all" I mouthed silently.

With an effort she shrugged off my riposte. "Is that why you cut off my trust fund brother? Or was it just you being spiteful?"

I rolled my eyes at this, an old argument revived. "Maybe I thought you should earn your money, work for it. I felt it my duty to ensure that my.........our father's legacy not be wasted." I told her.

Her eyes hooded and an ambiguous smile illuminated her face. "Your duty? Yes you were always one to do your duty weren't you brother? Stick to the rules, play it by the book?"

I was slightly alarmed by that smile. I wondered what it presaged.

"Duty and tradition are your watchwords, aren't they Bastian?" She whispered, as she turned by back to the table once again, staring down at Kat, bound and helpless.

Icy fingers of premonition prickled my spine. I began to see the trap she had set for me, that I had walked into. What made it worse was that Barton had tried it on me and I still fell for it the second time. My damn fucking pride was becoming a major liability.

"Of course tradition dictates that the maids should entertain guests at Shornecliffe parties, doesn't it brother dearest?" Once again her manicured fingernails were tracing red marks across Kat's breasts. Her smile was now twice as wide and doubly infuriating.

"Father was most insistent on that subject I seem to remember." She looked straight at me. "Even that stuck-up bitch Mary did duty as a cum-bucket back then. Do you remember that as well Bastian? She leaked spunk for days afterwards." Then she added, "but not any more I hear.

"Instead with have this common little trollop to take her place, don't we?"

I knew I was outmaneuvered; all I could do was nod, teeth clenched.

"Wonderful" she cried, clapping her hands in delight. "In that case, I want to use this slut." She said pointing theatrically at Kat. "And I want to use her very, very traditionally."

With those words she strode around the table and grasped the whip that filled Kat's arse and pulled it out, tearing a gasp of pain from her mouth. Holding it by the shaft she moved to the head of the table and pressed the handle against Kat's closed lips.

"Lick it clean!" she demanded. Everyone watching held their breath until they saw Kat give the slightest shake of her head.

Only a few hours before she had willingly obeyed the same order from me. But the whip had been in her pussy, not her arse. Bailey was risking Kat's health with such an order. My guests were all screened before a party for other health risks and I knew none would request such a dangerous activity as this. Despite this I steeled myself not to interfere.

Enraged, Bailey looked as if she was about raise the whip and bring it down on Kat. But in an instant she mastered her rage as a different idea occurred to her. With most the unpleasant smile I think I have ever seen she turned to me and shouted.

"BASTIAN! One of your servants has refused an order?" The unasked question that hung in the air was obvious to everyone - "what are you going to do about it?"

I knew there was only one answer to the question. Walking like a wind-up soldier I went to the table of toys and selected a long, thick riding crop. I flexed it as I approached the table -and my disobedient maid.

"I am disappointed in you Miss Soren." I announced stiffly. "You know the rules of your employment. You will be punished for your disobedience. You will not refuse my guests anything in future. Do you understand?" I waited till I saw the slightest nod of her blindfolded head, then I paused again.

I knew that Kat did not really deserve this punishment. I relied on my guests not to make unreasonable, dangerous or unhealthy requests of my staff. But I could not rely on Bailey to do the same. But she obviously wanted to hurt by proxy. There were too many 'connoisseurs' of BDSM gathered around the table for me to get away with taking it easy on the girl. I had to do the 'correct' thing.

"You will receive six stokes and you will count them for me." I ordered. Then, without hesitation, I raised the crop and brought it whistling down, straight across both thighs of my maid.

Her cry was intense and heart wrenching, the livid stripe on her legs immediately apparent. I waited until her gasps and sobs subsided and she was able to say, in a choked voice.

"One.......Master."

The crop came down again, just as hard, leaving a new, parallel welt. This time her cry was half scream, half moan as she arced up from the table

"Two, Master" Clearer this time.

Again. There was now no mistaking the changes in her reaction to her punishment. This time the noises she made were almost all moan.

"Three.........thank you Master."

Harder this time, four cruel red stripes in delicious contrast to the whiteness of her skin, matching the marks I had left on her back earlier that day.

"Four, Master."

The fifth cut crossed the first four diagonally, increasing the pain as it fell on already lacerated flesh. Kat strained upwards against her bonds. Her nipples were hard and a deep pink flush coloured her breasts. Her gasps and moans signified her want, unmistakably the sounds of desire.

I could sense that those watching were entranced, they were frozen and you could have heard a pin drop. I doubted that, even with all their experience, they had seen anything like this before

"Five Master." Some how just these two words conveyed so much. An entreaty, a prayer, a supplication.

Pausing only to be sure of my aim I brought the riding crop down, hard -- directly on her clitoris. It was as if I pressed the firing switch that set of a human explosion. Kat screamed in the throes of her release, head back, orgasming in a wave of gasps and sighs that lasted about a minute. When her super stimulated body was back under some form of control, when her she returned from the verge of hyperventilation, she announced:

"Six. THANK YOU Master." I turned away, without expression, without looking at Kat. There was a hush, an almost awed silence from the on-lookers. "He made her cum on the crop!?"

With a mock inclination of my head and click of my heels I gave the crop to Bailey.

I saw Mary at Bailey's elbow, with two glasses of champagne. Bailey snatched one and gulped it down. There was no sign of her guest, for whom the other glass was intended, so she took his glass as well. She sipped at it as she prowled around her prey, perhaps thinking she would find her more amenable to control now.

With my riding crop she idly flipped Kat's small, deliciously pink nipples. Then her eyes lit on the nearby table and her face broke into the grin of a child in a toyshop. She picked up a paddle, then a flogger before she settled on a pair of nipple clamps, joined by a chain. She picked them up and twirled them round, smiling at me, trying to goad me. I kept my face set, waiting.

She grasped one of Kat's nipples, twisting it and pulling it upwards. The girl could not see what was about to happen and her first inkling was the pain of the sharp metal teeth of one clamp biting into her tender flesh. Kat's breath hissed through her clenched teeth.

"Your ugly fat titties need improvement slut." Bailey cooed as she tightened the first clamp and then made sure the second was attached and screwed it down, hard.

The comment was revealing. It seemed my sister, a B cup at best, was more than a little envious of Kat's magnificent breasts.

She grasped the chain connecting the clamps and tugged. Kat's only reaction was a gasp. Bailey tugged harder and I could see Kat biting her lip so as not to give her tormenter the satisfaction of an audible reaction.

"Are you trying to be tough?" Bailey shouted. "Let's find out how tough you are then?"

I wasn't the only one who noticed how worked up Bailey was getting. Her face was red and her eyes wide. It seemed the mixture of her anger and sexual excitement at having a helpless victim was a powerful combination.

Her eyes cast around wildly and then a cruel smile curled her lips as she saw the candles. She took a large, red candle from a holder and held it over Kat's body.

Tilting the candle the first blob of wax splashed between Kat's breasts. She flinched at the unexpected heat and her head shook from side to side. Bailey moved the candle and a thick trail of wax mirrored its path across her breast. As the wax approached her nipple Bailey moved the candle closer to the maid's body. I knew that this meant, as it had less distance to drip, less time to cool, it would be much hotter and more painful. By the time the first drops of wax fell on Kat's nipple, where it protruded from the clamps, the wick was about an inch from her skin.

Kat twitched and twisted in her bonds, her breath whistling in her nose - but she kept her mouth clamped shut and barely made a noise. Bailey paused in her assault and took another candle, this one green. She started slowly on Kat's other breast, working with cruel, patient intent towards the hard, cruelly clamped nipple at its centre. After a few seconds pause she tilted the candle beyond 90 degrees and splashed the large pool of hot wax gathered in the candle onto Kat's already tortured nipple, encrusting her exposed flesh and the clamp with wax

Kat panted rapidly and her breasts heaved with the effort of not crying out. Furiously Bailey brought the crop down on the cooling wax and compressed nipple. All she got was a tiny moan and a few disapproving mutters from several of the watchers. She looked around wildly, trying to see who disapproved.

"The bitch is mine to play with, as I see fit." She hissed. "You can cuddle her if you like, when it's your turn, but only when I am done with her." I thought I saw a fleck of spittle at the corner of her mouth as she spoke, glaring around.

She took a bigger, white candle and dripped it across Kat's stomach. The final destination for the wax was all too evident, but she took her time. A few drips of wax hissed as they fell into the last of the sauce in the girl's navel. We could all see her flinch with each drop, see her pale skin redden under the wax -- but she never made a noise. Then Bailey worked the white ropes lower. The first globs splashed onto her pussy lips and Kat almost levitated from the table, but did not even whimper. I could see the fury in Bailey's almost demented eyes as her victim still refused to cry out. She held the candle upright until a lot of wax had pooled around the wick, then she dumped the lot of it onto Kat's clitoris.

Kat couldn't have seen what was coming, but she must have been expecting it. Her body went horribly rigid and she held her breath until the wax cooled slightly -- then she exhaled in a long sigh. It was the sound of relief, as if she knew the worst was over, as if she had weathered the storm.

Bailey gave a ludicrous, little, high-pitched scream of frustration and threw down the candle. It seemed the frustration came from a mixture of sources. She wanted to 'break' Kat but her need for satisfaction had suddenly become stronger. With scrabbling hands she unzipped her jacket and shrugged it off and dropped it on the floor. She started laughing as she climbed on the table, hitched up her skirt, then she squatted with her boot clad feet on either side of Kat's head.

"If I can't make you scream the least you can do is make me come you bitch." She declared as she lowered her cunt on to Kat's face, grinding it into her lips.

"Come on my slut whore, tongue my cunt." She urged. I watched as she grabbed Kat by the hair and lifted her head to more firmly drive her face into the centre of her urgency. Bailey certainly seemed to be enjoying herself, because I could see her wetness coating Kat's chin and cheeks, but I was not. I wanted to intervene and I could see several of the on-lookers glancing at me, obviously willing me to do so. But I held myself in check.

"You're not doing it right." Bailey screamed. She stood up and turned 180 degrees before squatting down on Kat's face again -- this time facing down her prone body.

"Lick me bitch!" she demanded and brought the crop down on Kat's right breast. Wax shattered and flew, the chain on the nipple clamps jangled.

Her eyes went dreamy. "That's it, that's the way." Bailey must have felt that encouragement from the crop was obviously having the desired effect and it was rose and fell a few more time, making Kat's tits wobble with each blow.

"That's good slave, get your tongue in nice and deep." She pressed her cunt down further onto Kat, grinding on her. "You're going to make me cum you dirty slut" Bailey crooned. Then she lashed an off-balance swipe at Kat's cunt.

"Good slave, worship the cunt of your Mistres...."

At that moment Bailey screamed in agony and leapt up from Kat's face and down from the table. For a moment she hopped around comically, clutching her groin.

"That fucking bitch bit my clit!" she shrieked.

Then Kat spoke for the first time that evening. Turning her head she stared directly at Bailey and calmly announced.

"You are not my mistress."

I thought Bailey had been angry before, but now she flew into a rage that made everything that went before seem like a mild tantrum.

"You shitty, disobedient piece of scum. How DARE you talk to me like that you...COMMON....servant class......WHORE!" She bellowed, face turning red with the effort. Then she raised her crop and was obviously ready to fly at Kat, intent on doing serious damage.

In that instant my self-restraint cracked. In a flash, almost without thinking, my hand shot out and I grabbed Bailey's wrist.

"NO!" I bellowed.

For a second we tussled -- my face close to enraged countenance. Then I squeezed until she dropped the riding crop. I let go of her and she stared at me with such a look of disbelief that, under different circumstances, I would have laughed out loud. I had never seen anyone more shocked in my life. I noticed that all other activity in the room had stopped. The silence was thunderous.

I let go of her wrist and I saw her drawing breath to break that silence and I braced myself. Just at that second I heard a voice calling my name, Wren's voice.

"Bastian?!" I could hear the urgency in his tone

Wren and Adam pushed their way through the crowd surrounding Bailey and I, Barton trailing after them. Between them they held my sister's guest, the handsome Arab. My cousins looked worried, grim even. The guy they had a hold of was trying to look unconcerned but his nervousness was betrayed by the way his flicked out, licking his lips and his eyes darted about - as if looking for an escape route.

"What's this about Wren?" I demanded

Wren let go of the guy's arm as Barton stepped forward to take over. He stepped forward, dangling a camera by its strap on his finger.

"We found this guy taking pictures." Wren explained. I took the camera and flipped it over. Clicking through the images on the screen my blood chilled. There, in high quality digital images were the seeds of a scandal to top all scandals. Alice and the Ambassador, Alice and the Member of Parliament, Mary and the Judge. Finally I gazed at pictures of me, lashing Kat as she lay tied down and defenseless. I shuddered as I pictured the headlines.

I looked up at the man who had planned to bring ruin and disgrace down upon me. The fury that boiled up in me must have been plain on my face. Before I even had a chance to say a word he started blustering, trying to explain, stuttering and spluttering.

'You better let go of me.' He squeaked, trying ineffectually to shrug off the grasp of Barton and Adam. "I'm a reporter....you can't do anything to me. I was only doing my job. Let me go....you can't do anything to me...I'm a reporter." Then he trailed off as I moved inside his personal space and got close enough to see the sweat springing out of his pores; close enough to smell his fear.

"I don't think you're a reporter?" I hissed. "If you were you'd have a hidden camera. This," I held the camera up in front of me, "is strictly amateur hour stuff." His expression gave him away instantly, I'd guessed right.

"You're just a chancer who thought he get rich by screwing me over! Wannabe paparazzi scum." I felt my rage rising as I thought about how close to tabloid infamy I had come. I stepped back from him and pointed at my guests

"Ever person here is here of their own free will. Every one is a consenting adult, enjoying themselves in the privacy of MY home!!" By now I was close to shouting.

"And you snuck in here, abusing my hospitality, with the intention of destroying the lives of my friends, intending to ruin me?! Then you try to tell me 'I can't do anything to you'" my voice mimicked his whining, pleading tone. "Even if you were a reporter it isn't some sort of diplomatic immunity."

I am not sure what I would have done next if I hadn't felt a considerable presence looming at my shoulder. The boss of the security company had some how been alerted and was standing beside me.

I help up the camera and didn't say a word. He glanced at the man still being held between Barton and Adam.

"Sir, I searched him and his luggage personal myself." He spoke like a policeman in court. "I've never seen him at one of your Lordship's parties before, so I took responsibility for him searching him myself." Then he paused in his evidence and continued with certitude. "He did not have a camera on him."

"Then how..." I started to say, before Wren interrupted

"Bailey wasn't searched." He told me, voice flat and inflectionless. "I'm sure she brought the camera." Bailey rewarded him with a flashing look of pure hatred.

My glance flashed back to the security boss and I asked, "Did you search my sister?"

His mouth gaped open, he seemed appalled at the idea. "Search The Lady Bailey? I didn't...I didn't think...I"

I cut him off. "You're right, you didn't think. Get out!"

I turned to face Bailey. She was already the focus of everyone else's attention.

"Got anything to say Bailey?" I asked her, as calmly as I could. "Did you bring the camera in for him?" An obvious conclusion occurred to me as I spoke.

"He isn't your usual 'type' is he Bailey? In fact, I think you brought him along just so he could take pictures. Is that right?"

At that moment I couldn't help feeling a sneaking sense of admiration for my sister. She stood, fists on hips once again, trying by the force of will alone to stare down a room of hostile faces.