Mastering a Sinner (20 page)

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Not if you want this. Do you want Gelis’s family to be brought down again?”

“As I said. We already have a copy. It will be easy enough for me to warn the new earl. Gelis is no longer on this earth, and her father is above such things now.”

“I doubt that. The Scots are still regarded with deep suspicion here at the Hanoverian court. One word from me, a known supporter of the Crown, and he could easily be cast down again.”

“You’re willing to make another family destitute to avoid paying your debts?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“What am I saying?” Alistair laughed. “You brought your own father down. Why would you balk at destroying my dead wife’s father?”

Harry’s face paled, and his eyes glittered black. “Be careful what you say, Alistair.”

“Why, because you can’t bear to hear the truth? You lying, traitorous
bastard.
”

“Do you know
why
your father-in-law is on this list?” Harry smiled. “Of course you don’t. Shall I tell you? Your dear wife was heavily involved with the Stuart cause. Didn’t she ever mention that?
He
is implicated through his association with her.”

“You’re lying.”

“A woman doesn’t lie to her lover.” He extracted another two pieces of paper from his pocket. “If the original list isn’t enough of an incentive for you, perhaps these might be. I have a love letter from your wife and a letter she wrote and entrusted to me with some funds for the Stuart cause.”

Alistair went still, the roar of the crowd fading to nothing as he faced his brother. “You—”

“I told her how you betrayed our father. She was horrified and sought comfort from me.” Harry shrugged. “How could I not oblige her?” His smile was quite beautiful. “I’m sorry, she preferred me to you, Alistair.”

With a snarl, Alistair reached through the bars of the cage and grabbed his brother around the throat, slamming him hard against the bars. Almost immediately other footmen surrounded Harry, and Alistair was shoved back and onto the floor. By the time he righted himself, he could no longer tell which of the retreating servants was his brother.

It couldn’t be true, Gelis had . . .

“Oh, God,” he whispered as he remembered her sudden distaste for him, her refusal to share his bed, and the miraculous pregnancy he’d been too overjoyed to question that had resulted in her death....

He remained on his knees and buried his face in his hands, fighting for composure, fighting the need to howl his rage to the heavens.

Even if it wasn’t true, what had he done to make his brother hate him so much? What in God’s name had he
done?
And now, due to his temper, he was still in the cage awaiting his brother’s fate and hadn’t secured any of the evidence for the Sinners....

 

Time passed in a blur. The occupants of the cage disappeared one by one, and the audience decreased due to drunkenness and lack of funds to keep gambling. Candlelight played off the sinister masked figures of the Demons’ court and the intent card players. Eventually, Alistair was the only person left.

The door to the cage was unlocked, and Blaydon beckoned to him.

“Come on, Maclean, you’re wanted. Sir Ronald has won your debt and offered you as a gift to the court.”

“You have the wrong man. My brother is here. He’s dressed as one of your own bloody footmen.”

Lord Blaydon smirked. “Of course he is, Maclean.”

Alistair braced himself as two of the footmen came into the cage to get him. He was not going to take his brother’s punishment meekly. With a roar, he lunged at the first man, knocking him sideways before he turned to the second. A big meaty fist caught him in the guts, and he stumbled backward to avoid the other blow, hitting his head against the bars of the cage.

After dodging two more blows and landing a few of his own in a white-hot flow of rage, reinforcements were gathered and he was caught and held in a headlock, his arm twisted against his spine, and hauled out of the cage. There were still several onlookers who cheered his arrival at the foot of the raised dais.

“Maclean seems reluctant to pay his debt, Kenrick.”

Alistair recognized the voice of Matthew Partington, one of the younger sons of the Earl of Woodford, sitting on one of the gilded chairs.

“It’s not my debt. It’s my brother’s.” Alistair stated it again more loudly this time. “He’s here disguised as a footman enjoying all this. You need to find him and make him pay for his own sins.”

A gasp made him look away from Partington and to his left, where Charlotte stood with Sir Ronald. She was probably the only person who cared that he wasn’t his brother at this point. Why hadn’t he guessed that she’d partner with the devil himself to entrap Harry? Sir Ronald was probably one of the few men willing to pay out a thousand pounds simply to get his revenge on his old lover. It seemed so obvious now. He tried to catch her eye.

“He’s dressed as a footman.”

Partington came to the edge of the stage and stared down at him. “Firstly, I don’t believe you, and secondly, I don’t care. Your name was on that paper. You’ll do as well as your brother to provide us with amusement. Actually it might be even more fun playing with you than Harry. By all accounts, you’re a straitlaced prude.”

He nodded at the three footmen restraining Alistair. “Take him into the smaller salon and strip him naked.”

 

Diana was enjoying her second glass of wine and the relative solitude of the supper room when Charlotte came running through the door, her expression stricken.

“Di, you have to help me. They’ve got the wrong Mr. Maclean. Alastair’s in the cage, and he’s insisting Harry’s here somewhere disguised as a footman!”

“What?”
Diana shot to her feet. “Why is Alistair here?”

Charlotte gripped her arm. “Apparently, his name was on the debt. I didn’t know that until now. I’m so
sorry,
Di, what can we do to help him?”

“Where is he?”

“They’ve taken him in to the smaller salon.”

“Can anyone go in there?”

“I don’t know.”

Diana nodded. “Don’t worry, we can make this right. You find Harry and keep him in your sight until help arrives from the Sinners.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

“Then you have my full permission to stop him if he tries to leave this place—as long as you don’t kill him.”

Charlotte shivered. “I doubt he’ll leave until he’s seen his brother punished.”

“So do I.” She kissed her friend’s pale cheek. “Don’t worry about Alistair. He’s a lot more resilient than the Demons might imagine. I’ll make sure to keep him safe.”

“Do you really think you can?”

“If he’ll let me.”

Diana headed for the door, slowing her stride into a more sultry sway as she approached Matthew Partington, who was just descending from the dais.

“Lady Theale.”

She touched his sleeve and ran her fingers down it. “I hear that you have a Mr. Maclean needing to be taught a lesson.”

“That is correct.”

She bit down on her lower lip and then licked it. “I know him. I have to work beside him every day at the Sinners and listen to him prose on.” She sighed. “He treats me like a whore.”

Matthew sniggered. “Then you should come and watch what we have planned for him.”

She opened her eyes wide and gazed into the coldness behind his gaze.
“Watch?
Mayhap I could help. I am very good at making grown men cry.”

“So I’ve heard.” He touched her cheek and allowed his finger to trail down to her bodice. “It might be amusing seeing Maclean submit to you.”

“I would make it far more than amusing, Matthew darling. I’d make him beg for it.”

He pinched her nipple hard and she held his gaze.

“Come then, Lady Theale. This could be very interesting indeed.”

20

T
he footmen were deliberately rough as they stripped him out of his clothes. Their hands grabbing and fondling his arse and balls, their comments as to his eventual fate graphic and obscene. He didn’t fight them. How absurd was it that his most secret dark fantasy, of being naked and aroused before a roomful of strangers, was about to become a reality because of his brother’s cowardice?

It was truly ironic.

His breath hissed out as one of the men squeezed his balls tight and kept hold of them.

“Look at him, getting all hard. He’s a sharp one, ain’t he? Knows what’s coming.”

He couldn’t stop his cock responding to the coarse handling. By the time Partington and his friends arrived, he’d probably be fully erect and dripping with pre-cum. He had no idea what they would make of that. If he could just escape this place with his cock and balls intact, he’d be fine. He’d survived far worse.

From what he’d seen so far tonight, the object of the game was sexual humiliation. His only fear was that someone would realize how much he craved the very thing the others hated, stop his punishment, and replace it with something different.

“Very nice, Maclean.” Partington stood in front of him, his gaze taking in every inch of Alistair’s body and then settling on his thick cock. “It seems you are as eager to begin as we are.”

“Go to the devil, sir. You have no right to do this to me, and you know it.”

“Your name is on this debt, Maclean. As an honorable gentleman, you must pay what you owe.”

“It’s my
brother’s
debt!”

Partington nodded to the footmen who held Alistair. “Take him over to the rack and hang him up there.”

He tried to fight, but there were more of them than him. His wrists and ankles were manacled and chained. The chains were attached to all four corners of the wooden rack. At a signal from Partington, one of the footmen turned a wheel, which gradually tightened the chains pulling Alistair’s arms out and up, and then his ankles until he was spread-eagled like a fly trapped in a web.

“Enough.” Partington touched Alistair’s quivering skin. “”Are you comfortable, Maclean?”

Alistair didn’t say anything as he concentrated on readjusting his muscles to compensate for the stretch of the rack. A sharp slap aimed at his mouth made him jerk to attention.

“I asked you a question.”

“I assumed it was a rhetorical one. How could a man be comfortable like this?” Even as he glared at Partington, he answered his own question. His body was more alive and willing to be used than his captors could ever imagine.

Partington snapped his fingers, and Lord Blaydon handed him something. “You can be quiet now while we eat.”

He was gagged with a velvet scarf, and another was added to take away his ability to see. And now he was naked in a room full of men who meant him harm and he was still hard and wet. He concentrated on the loud drunken voices, the scent of the food, and the rare female laugh or satisfied scream.

Occasionally someone came over and touched him, fingered his nipples or the curve of his arse, or rubbed his cock until it ached like a swollen tooth. He was still hard and he’d stay like that for as long as he could. Was Harry still watching, or had his brother worked out that he was the one who was supposed to be trapped on the rack and disappeared? He’d always had the ability to avoid unpleasantness. But he’d probably enjoy seeing Alistair suffer even more.

He eased more of his weight back on his heels and remembered not to fight his chains too much. He might need his strength later. He suspected the Demons would demand far more of him than this tame display of nakedness and a hard cock.

The blindfold was whipped away, and he blinked into the candlelight and went still. Partington was in front of him and nestled in the curve of his arm was Diana. She was smiling and dressed in a thin black crepe gown that slid off her shoulders.

Doubt shook through him. Had she come with Charlotte and Sir Ronald? Had she hoped to see Harry tied to the rack, or was his predicament a far more satisfying sight to her after all? Perhaps he had misjudged her completely, and she’d always been on Charlotte’s side and simply used him to draw Harry out.

“What do you think, Lady Theale?” Partington asked.

She considered him with her head to one side. “I think he needs humbling, don’t you?”

“He’s a Scotsman. They all need to remember their place.”

He glared at the laughing pair, his mouth still shuttered behind his gag.

“He treats me appallingly at the Sinners. It will be a pleasure to master him for you, Mr. Partington.” She reached forward and fondled his shaft, her nails digging into his heated flesh, making him groan and buck against her hand. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

And he knew that regardless of whether she was on his side or Charlotte’s, she
would
enjoy bringing him to his knees. It was in her nature just as it was in his to submit.

“Do you like being touched like this, Mr. Maclean?”

He shook his head and she gripped him even harder. “You prefer a man’s touch?”

“No!” He shouted it through his gag and she laughed. “How did you intend to proceed if I wasn’t here, Mr. Partington?”

Partington shrugged. “We intended to keep him naked and hard until everyone who wanted to use him had done so. And then we thought to give him to the staff to play with too.”

“An admirable revenge.” Diana paused. “While you gentlemen enjoy your port, I could put a collar and leash on him and lead him around the room so that anyone who wished to use him could simply call him over and take what they wanted.” She leaned closer to Partington and whispered, “Unless you wish to take him to bed and fuck him there?”

“No, I want to see him crawling from man to man sucking cock.”

Diana turned back to Alistair, her hand still wrapped around his shaft. “Do you think he might be violent if we untie him?”

“Not if we give him a good thrashing first. I doubt even Maclean would turn on a woman.” Partington glanced around the room. “If he did resist, we’ll just tie him up and use him like that instead.”

“Would you hurt a woman, Mr. Maclean?”

He held her gaze for a long moment and then shook his head.

“Do you swear on your honor?”

This time he nodded. Regardless of what happened between them, he knew in his soul that she was the only person whom he could trust to keep him safe. He had to endure this if he stood any chance of getting Harry to give him those incriminating letters.

“Thank you.”

Blaydon strolled over and ran a hand over Alistair’s muscled buttock, his thumb lingering and dipping to circle Alistair’s puckered hole.

“Did Maclean go to school, Partington? I’m not sure I remember him at Harrow or Eton.”

“I don’t believe he did,” Diana said. “He mentioned his family weren’t wealthy.”

“Then perhaps he’s never been buggered before.”

Alistair tried to jerk away from Blaydon’s finger, which was rimming his arsehole, but there was nowhere to go, and no give in the chains restraining him.

“Then perhaps you need to ease your passage, Blaydon.” Partington chuckled. “I wonder if he’ll like a big stiff cock being rammed up his arse? I wonder if he’ll beg for more and come all over his stomach?”

Alistair closed his eyes as Blaydon’s finger burrowed deeper. He had to withstand this. He had to let it happen if it meant he was eventually free to find his brother and strangle him with his bare hands.

“Mr. Maclean?”

Diana’s voice.

She cupped his cheek, and he opened his eyes and focused on her. Even if she intended to leave him he could trust her now.

“I’ll get you through this, I promise.” He nodded once and she stood on tiptoe and kissed him, making all the men cheer as she whispered, “Try and pretend it’s just you and me. I know you won’t want to disappoint me.”

 

Good Lord, Alistair looked beautiful to her at that moment, chained to the rack, his muscles taut, his limbs stretched, and his cock hard . . . And despite the doubt flickering in his green eyes when he’d first seen her, he still believed she would help him.

“Lord Blaydon, do you wish me to carry out Mr. Partington’s instructions, or do you wish to proceed first?”

The Irish aristocrat stood behind Alistair, one hand on his captive’s naked hip and the other between Alistair’s buttocks.

“I’ll wait.” He sighed as he moved away. “But make sure you bring him around to me. I want him to suck my cock before I mount him.”

Partington handed her a long birch cane. “If he didn’t go to school, he’s probably not experienced this either. Nothing like a caning from a schoolmaster to heat your arse followed by a good buggering.”

Diana took the cane and flicked her wrist, enjoying the sound of the birch whistling through the air and the quivering reaction Alistair couldn’t quite conceal. She didn’t immediately start beating him. Instead she walked around him, using the tip of the cane to examine his body, rubbing it over his nipples, between his spread thighs and his buttocks.

His breathing shortened as she touched the cane to his gag and shoved it down.

“Kiss this rod, Mr. Maclean, and say thank you for the beating you are about to receive.”

He bared his teeth at her, and she smiled before bringing the birch down his sternum and over his flat stomach to rest on his thrusting cock.

“Here then, Mr. Maclean?”

He went still as she rubbed his foreskin until the tip of the cane was as wet as his cock, and then dragged it lower, passing between his balls and the soft smoothness of his taint. The gentlemen had fallen silent, their gazes fixed on Alistair as she taunted him with the end of the cane.

“I could bugger you with this, Mr. Maclean, all three feet of it?” He shuddered. “How much could you take before you were stuffed full? How much more would I make you take anyway?”

She returned the cane to his shaft, rubbing it against the stream of pre-cum until the tip gleamed and he was attempting to arch into every stroke. Removing the cane, she walked around him, smiling at Partington and Lord Blaydon, who were watching avidly, and positioned herself behind Alistair.

His whole body jerked as she snapped the cane and landed her first perfect blow across his right buttock. She followed with five more, three on each buttock, until his pale Celtic skin was marred with six perfect red lines. With a sigh, she watched the colors deepen and spread and the way his body was now tensed against the next anticipated strike.

Instead, she stroked his arse and he moaned.

“Don’t fight me, Mr. Maclean.”

“Go . . . to . . . hell.” He spoke between his teeth.

She wanted to smile at his aggression, but she recognized it for what it was. A desperate attempt to stop their audience from realizing how much he was enjoying what was happening to him. The least she could do was play along.

Still holding the birch rod, she walked around and grabbed his chin in her hand.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

She slapped him hard, once on each cheek, making his head snap back. “Perhaps we need to wash out your mouth, Mr. Maclean.” She glanced over at one of the silent footmen. “Can you lower the chains so that he is kneeling instead of standing?”

“Yes, my lady.”

While he was being repositioned, she beckoned to Blaydon. “Do you wish him to suck you now?”

“While you finish beating him?” His odd silver eyes gleamed. “Damn right, I do.”

He strolled closer to the rack, opening his trousers with one hand to reveal his already thick cock.

Alistair growled at him. “If you put that anywhere near my mouth, I’ll bite it off.”

Blaydon raised an eyebrow and turned to Diana. “Do you think he means it?”

“We can prevent it.” She looked at Partington. “Do you have something here in your dungeon that will keep his mouth open, or do I need to improvise?”

“We have something. Many of our guests are strangely reluctant to take a man’s cock in any orifice.” Partington chuckled and went to one of the tallboys that lined the far wall. “This should work.”

Diana examined the brass ring and the two ribbons attached to it. “It is perfect. Hold still, Mr. Maclean.” Before he understood her intent, she managed to get the ring in his mouth, ordering the footman to hold it in place while she tied the ribbons together at the back of his head.

The guttural sounds from Alistair’s throat sounded threatening, but there was nothing he could do in his present position to close his mouth. Diana smiled at Lord Blaydon.

“Go ahead, my lord. He can’t do anything to stop you filling his mouth with your cock and coming.”

She took her place again and waited until Lord Blaydon sheathed his cock down a still-protesting Alistair’s throat. All sound except the ragged cheer of the watchers and the whistle as the birch cane came down ceased as she concentrated on giving her slave the best experience she could. Her vision narrowed to the slightest movement of his body, the signs that he was going away within himself to a place where the pain became his pleasure and he became completely hers.

She knew he hated being fucked or handled by men, but she also knew, because she had trained him, that he would accept such treatment if she wanted him to. And there was more to come yet. He still needed to survive whatever the Demons came up with next.

 

The twelfth stroke landed lower, just catching the underside of his balls, making his breath hiss out around the pounding presence of Lord Blaydon’s shaft. His own cock was hard and so wet now that he was surprised no one had commented on it.

“Ah, God.” Blaydon shoved forward one more time, his hand in Alistair’s hair, forcing him to stay put, and pumped his load down Alistair’s throat.

Alistair hardly cared, the pain of the beating simply enhancing the humiliation and secret excitement of being used in front of the Demon court. When Blaydon released him, his head fell forward, as he sucked in some much needed air.