Teach Me Tender, Teach Me Rough Page 8

  “You’re an asshole.” Cameron scrambled back across the linoleum on her ass. “I don’t want you, I don’t need you.”

  “I feel sorry for you, Cameron, I really do,” he shot back. “More than that I feel sorry for what we could have been. I’m going out for a walk, if you can manage it, don’t be here when I get back.”

  Cameron rolled herself into a ball on the floor.

  She sobbed until there was nothing left.

  Finally, reason kicked in.

  She had to call someone, find somewhere to stay.

  There was only person who would understand.

  She hit the redial, praying Veronica would answer.

  “Hello?”

  Cameron’s heart skipped a beat. She looked in horror at the phone.

  The last number hadn’t been hers…it had been his.

  “Who is this?” Victor demanded.

  Cameron couldn’t bring herself to hang up. “It’s…it’s Cameron Blaine.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “Our little graduate student, how is the research coming?”

  The floodgates opened. “Craig…I…we…”

  Victor cut to the quick. “Did he hurt you?”

  His gallantry caught her off guard. “No, he’s not that type.”

  Although maybe you are.

  “Do you need a place to stay?”

  For some reason she saw humor. “Sorry, I am not into cages…or bunny food.”

  “You’ll stay at the mansion.”

  Cameron tensed. He was serious. “What about Rachel?”

  “She has no say in the matter.”

  “Veronica says otherwise…”

  “Veronica is a treacherous, jealous snipe, and I mean that in the most loving way.”

  “Yes, she told me how much you love women.”

  “My driver will come for you, no arguments.”

  “You don’t know where I live.”

  “I can find out, you’d be surprised.”

  That she didn’t doubt. Robotically she recited the location, numb as any GPS.

  “He’ll be there in fifteen minutes, be ready.”

  Cameron terminated the call. She packed a small bag and put on jeans and a tee shirt.

  “I hope we’ll talk,” she said meekly in the doorway to Craig’s study. “In a few days.”

  “I don’t trust myself to say anything right now, Cameron, please respect that.”

  She nodded, fresh tears in her eyes. He never even bothered to look up from his monitor.

  Served her right.

  Victor’s driver was a perfect gentleman. He never once looked at her in anything but a professional way.

  And why should he, she thought, Victor wasn’t an animal, just because he kept naked women, treating them like dogs…

  She settled herself in the back seat of the limousine, marveling at the carved wood interior, the plush leather seats. There was even a built in bar.

  “Help yourself,” said the driver, closing the door.

  Cameron poured herself a vodka.

  Here’s to you, Veronica, boy do I have a funny story next time I see you.

  Victor’s estate was located outside the city, in a northern suburb famous for its millionaire occupants. Even on a street of mansions, his stood out. The wrought iron gate stretched a quarter mile ending at a guard house with a uniformed officer.

  The driver lowered the back window so the man could look inside. He did so with trained eyes, ex-police or military. Beyond the gate was a long winding drive, lined with sculpted shrubbery in the shapes of various animals. The drive ended at the house itself, a long gray stone frontage with dozens of windows and a high gabled roof.

  Two more guards were waiting. One of them had a dog, a Doberman on a heavy leash. For the first time, Cameron felt afraid.

  Were the guards trying to keep something out…or in?

  She had to remind herself that Victor came referred. He was a member of the Club, the same one recommended by her teacher.

  “Are you in over your head?” Craig had asked.

  She hadn’t been able to answer him. There was a logic to what she had been doing the last few days but not everything logical was sane.

  A butler greeted her at the door. He had white gloves and black tails.

  Half past two in the morning, she thought, what did Victor do, roll him out of a closet somewhere?

  “Welcome, Miss, to Cabrini Greens,” he said with a bow.

  “It’s a bit of a joke,” said Victor, entering now through a marble arch at the far side of the massive foyer. “Cabrini Greens is a notorious housing project. I’ve adopted the name and made it something beautiful.”

  Victor looked splendid as always in a smoking jacket and slacks.

  He probably woke up looking fabulous.

  “I’ve heard of the place, yes,” she said.

  Somewhere in the distance, echoing through the portrait lined walls, Cameron heard crashing glass.

  “That would be Rachel,” Victor said dryly. “Tend to her,” he told the driver who was standing just behind Cameron, dwarfing her with his muscular, football player form.

  “Yes, Sir,” he said, his voice giving no indication as to what he might do.

  Tend to her. The words cut through Cameron. Was this part of the ongoing drama?

  “Chambers will show you to your room,” Victor said. “If you will be so kind as to give him your schedule for tomorrow he will see to your needs.”

  Her schedule…yes, tomorrow was Monday.

  She had classes, her internship at the county clinic in the afternoon.

  “I—I don’t know if I will feel up to going anywhere,” she said.

  Victor inclined his head. “The choice is yours. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business?”

  “Rachel?” said Cameron, her nosiness getting the better of her.

  Victor smiled, enigmatic. “Rachel, indeed.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cameron woke up with that odd feeling, the kind you get when you know someone is watching you.

  She blinked twice, focusing on the blonde girl, her hair fine as spun silk, her skin glowing in the morning sunlight. She was sitting across from the bed on a red velvet armchair. One leg was swung up over the arm revealing a very neatly shaved sex, a pair of pretty pink lips brazen as petals underneath a feather light robe, fairy green.

  Her breasts were surprisingly lush for such a delicate frame. The robe darkened her nipples but did not obscure them.

  She was barefoot, a circle of flowers tattooed around her left ankle.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” the girl said, extending her leg for a better view. “It’s Victor’s mark…one of them.”

  “You must be Rachel.” Cameron sat up groggy.

  “And you’re what the cat dragged in.” Rachel licked her lips, imperious. “You’re not all that.”

  “I am what I am,” Cameron managed, gathering the sheet about her naked breasts. It was one thing to be evaluated by a man, or even by the likes of Veronica, but this girl was something else.

  Rachel arched a brow, like she was a million years evolved. “Victor’s not going to fuck you, you know, you aren’t his type.”

  “What makes you think I want him to?”

  “Everyone wants Victor.” She had her button nose in the air. “He’s the best…and so am I.”

  “I thought slaves were modest,” Cameron said.

  Rachel ignored the dig. “You want to look at my pussy but you won’t let yourself, why?”

  “I’m not bisexual if that’s what you’re driving at.”

  “We’re all bisexual, it’s human nature.”

  Cameron couldn’t resist. “Really? And what college did you learn that at?”

  “I’ve never been.” Rachel ran her fingers through her hair.

  “No shit.” Cameron tried not to watch her, the hypnotic motions, the pretty aquamarine nails.

  Rachel just laughed, pure tinkling, falling glass, snow flake thi
n, slow motion, kaleidoscopic. “You’re so transparent. If you want it, just ask.”

  “All I want is breakfast.”

  “Do you now…” Rachel spread obscenely. “Then come and get it.”

  Rachel threw a pillow at her. “Cover up, will you? Does Victor even know you’re here?”

  Rachel pushed the pillow between her thighs, wrapping her legs around it “Dare me to come?”

  “Get out!”

  Rachel had the look of the devil. Slowly, but very, very methodically, she began humping. The halves of her robe fell open. “You get out, street trash.”

  “I’m not trash!”

  Why was this impudent young woman getting to her like this?

  And why hadn’t she noticed the jewelry before, the tiny emeralds in her pink lobes, the matching necklace, the gems held together by fine spun gold, a luxurious interweave of chains.

  Was it a collar or something else?

  “You know why you are afraid of me?” Rachel said.

  “I am not afraid.”

  “It’s because of what I am…”

  “You’re a brat, that’s what you are.”

  “So put me over your knee. Oh, I forgot, you’re not dominant.”

  Cameron was on her feet, trying to tear the pillow away. She succeeded, only to have Rachel lunge at her like a wildcat.

  Fuck! Her nails were like claws. She ripped across Cameron’s face, opening a row of scratches.

  Cameron struck back, using her palm. Rachel recoiled but only for a second. This time Cameron lifted her and tossed her on the bed. They rolled several times until finally Cameron pinned her.

  Rachel’s eyes were pure green hell fire. “Do it,” she hissed. “Fuck me, own me.”

  Cameron growled, overcome by the moment. She pushed the girl’s slender thighs apart with her knee.

  “Is that all you have?” Rachel taunted.

  “Little cunt,” said Cameron. “Spoiled little cunt.”

  “It’s not so little,” said Rachel, grinding her pelvis against Cameron’s bare thigh. “Check and see.”

  “Damn it, what’s wrong with you, Rachel?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Rachel managed to lift her head, her teeth clamping down hard on Cameron’s breast.

  “Ow!” she screamed. Now she was pissed. Disengaging the girl, she flipped her over onto her back and began to spank her, peppering her pert little buttocks with savage blows from the palm of her hand.

  Rachel started moaning, humping the bed.

  Figured she would like it.

  “That’s enough.”

  Victor was in the doorway, his firm tone more than sufficient to stop Cameron’s arm midair. He was wearing a double breasted suit which emphasized his strong masculine build. The tie was blue, cobalt like his eyes, unblinking.

  Cameron climbed off the bed like it was on fire.

  Rachel sat up, hair plastered to her face, smirking. “She laid hands on me, Victor, are you going to let her get away with it?”

  Victor regarded Rachel, his expression complicated. “Wait for me in the solarium.”

  Rachel licked her lips. She winked at Cameron.

  Like a cat, she sauntered off, humming an unknown tune.

  “Are you all right?” Victor asked.

  Cameron moved to cover herself with the blanket. “No thanks to that little monster of yours.”

  “She will be dealt with. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “You can answer a few questions. In what galaxy do you consider that thing a slave?”

  Victor smiled, revealing a kind of twisted fatherly admiration. “Think of her as a pet, a rather high strung one.”

  Cameron frowned. “I would like to take a shower.”

  “Of course, and if you would like to after you are dressed, you may feel free to come to the solarium to see firsthand how I deal with my little monster as you call her.”

  Cameron feigned disinterest. “I will think about it.”

  Actually there was nothing she would rather see than the insolent little Rachel getting her comeuppance.

  It was all she could think about as she cleansed her body of the layers of sweat and sexual heat. She had the smell of Rachel on her, animal sex, plus her own arousal. They had come damn close to love making, if that was the right word for it.

  Rachel had flat out wanted to be overpowered. And barring that she was going to use every weapon in her arsenal to hurt or maim.

  A pet indeed.

  She was a rabid beast who belonged in chains.

  How could the same man own her and also the genteel, playful, emotionally mercurial but infinitely more mature Veronica?

  And in between the two there was Chloe, simple, pretty, caged Chloe.

  Cameron slipped the bar of soap inside her aching pussy now, pretending it was Victor’s cock. According to Rachel he would never fuck her, but Rachel was a cruel girl who said cruel things.

  She was also a liar.

  With a lot of mental issues, a doctoral thesis topic unto herself.

  What kind of childhood had Rachel endured? Had she been abused?

  And why was Victor so obsessed with her?

  Leaning against the wall, Rachel spasmed, her pussy clamping down on the soap, her clitoris swollen and pulsing. At the last second before orgasm, just to push herself over the top, she clamped down on her nipple, pinching it with her thumb and forefinger.

  Veronica would be proud.

  Craig would be…disgusted, fascinated, what?

  She had told him she would call in a few days.

  He wasn’t sure he would want to talk.

  Fine, so she had fucked things up for good, couldn’t have been that great a relationship in the first place if he wasn’t even giving her a chance to explain.

  It was shock, that’s all. It would wear off.

  After all, suppose the situation were reversed and he showed up with a paddled ass?

  Almost comical.

  Cameron slid down, back to the wall, her spine rubbing on the tile, all the way to the floor. She came and came and came and still she wanted more.

  Only the prospect of seeing Rachel’s punishment kept her from masturbating any longer. As it was she couldn’t get dressed fast enough, throwing on a tee shirt and running shorts.

  Now she just needed to find the solarium.

  She almost ran into the butler in the hallway. “I am to escort you,” he said.

  The solarium was down a long corridor which led to another corridor. The walls were lined with suits of armor and paintings of men in various antique military costumes dating as far back as the sixteenth century. Juxtaposed were pictures of lounging, cherubic females, largely in reclined positions, naked or near naked besides streams and rivers or on picnics.

  The message of female objectification and subordination was subtle but potent. One only had to visit the club to know that things hadn’t change all that much.

  There were certainly no male slaves to be seen there, either cramped in demeaning little cages or serving away on hands and knees, groveling for bits of food from the hands of their superiors.

  One of the guards was standing outside the double doors. He wore a blue blazer over a red golf shirt. He cast a menacing look at Cameron. The butler said a few words and he stood down, albeit reluctantly.

  The butler opened the left door, indicating Cameron should enter. He closed it quickly behind her, adding greatly to the shroud of mystery.

  “Ah, Cameron, there you are. Have a seat.” Victor was standing in the middle of the room, a giant glass enclosed area two stories high and some thirty feet long. There were plants of enormous size along with a bar, two couches and a fireplace, which looked strangely incongruent in the warm, jungle style ambiance.

  Victor had removed his jacket and tie. He was holding a long red velvet rope that hung down from the high ceiling. “You’re just in time.”

  Several of the guards were in a semicircle, their flies open, enormous hard c
ocks exposed.

  Victor put some slack into the rope. A pulley squeaked and an apparatus lowered. It was a kind of frame made up of gold rods laid out at cross angles. There were leather cuffs, two on top and two on the bottom.

  Rachel was suspended from it, her lithe body painfully contorted into an upside down X. She had been stripped of her robe and locked inside of a leather helmet device with zippers over the eyes and nose. The mouth portion was open, her jaws being held wide apart by a kind of reverse clamp.

  She hung limp, looking exhausted and broken already.

  “You look pale, Cameron, I thought you were anxious to see justice done.”

  “This…is hardly justice.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t have it both ways. I’m too lax, I’m too strict, which is it.”

  “Let her down,” Cameron said.

  “But the fun is only beginning.” Victor adjusted the rope, bringing Rachel’s leather hooded head to the level of the guards’ crotches.

  “Look alive, Rachel, darling,” crooned Victor, inclining his head toward one of the guards.

  The guard had a two pronged silver rod.

  “No,” cried Cameron.

  The guard pressed the prod into Rachel’s belly. Her body shook, she moaned indiscriminately into her gag.

  The first guard handed the prod to one of the others. Putting his hands on either side of Rachel’s head, he guided his cock into the open hole.

  Rachel coughed, drooling.

  The first guard grunted, fucking her hard.

  The second guard used the prod again, this time pressing it to Rachel’s breast, just below the left nipple. The shaking and quaking of Rachel’s torso was just what the first guard needed to push him over the edge. Pulling himself out of the captive hole, he took aim, spilling himself directly onto her tongue. The spray coated the pink surface, dripping down.

  “Swallow,” said the second guard, electrocuting Rachel on the hip.

  Rachel gulped the come as best she could, her body twisting and writhing against the frame.

  “Please…” Cameron was begging. “I’ll do anything.”