CHAPTER ONE

 

"That was a hiding she won't forget in a hurry," remarked Quentin.

He and Melissa were seated in the cool of one of the smaller drawing rooms of Maison Jaune. In attendance were Maria and Heidi. Both were naked but for white calf-length boots with very high heels, and small white linen aprons which concealed neither girl's breasts nor her smoothly-shaved pubic mound. They were worn simply as a decorative symbol of servitude.

"She deserved it," replied Melissa callously. She was dressed in a lightweight pale-blue pyjama-suit and, thought Quentin, looked most fetching. He was lucky to have such a beautiful, understanding and competent wife.

"Oh, I agree," nodded Quentin. "Can't have disobedience in a slave, can we? Still, if Simone wants to learn the hard way, that's her affair." He drained his glass and snapped his fingers ... and blonde Heidi came hurrying to his side, apple-round breasts swaying delectably, the soft flesh of her thighs quivering with her movements.

"Yes, Master?"

Quentin said nothing but merely pointed to his glass. At once Heidi turned and went to fetch the bottle from its ice-bucket, thus favouring Quentin with a view of her soft-bouncing bottom as it swung seductively from side to side. That too, he reflected, had felt plenty of the rod in its time. And, doubtless, would continue to do so on occasions! Heidi came back, seemingly unmoved, her pretty face set. Yet there was a dullness of despair in her blue eyes. She had become used to being nude under the gaze of both men and women ... to obeying their orders, however difficult or repellent they might be. She had suffered enough already and wished to suffer as little as possible in future. Thus, in mind, spirit and body, she now submitted. And obeyed. Carefully she poured the chilled white wine into her Master's glass. Oh yes ... it had become natural for her to think of Quentin as that. Just as she thought of Melissa as her Mistress.

"Do you know, Heidi," said Quentin with a smirk, "you've got very good tits. Nicely round, nicely firm."

"Th-thank you, Master," replied Heidi, bobbing a half curtsey which set her breasts bobbing too. Casually, Quentin fondled one of them, tweaking the rose-pink nipple. Amazing, her thought, to realise that but a few months ago, if he had attempted to do any such thing, this girl would have gone berserk. Screaming the place down. Now he could do anything he liked with her ... and she accepted it. More than that, she CO-OPERATED.

Quentin transferred his hand to Heidi's taut-skinned bottom. Buttocks also beautifully rounded. So smooth, so young. I reckon, thought Quentin, I am beginning to prefer this blonde to her dark haired sister, Maria, just a year older. But there wasn't much to it. Both made a superb fuck ... and Melissa had seen to it that they had been taught to suck superbly. He gave the buttock cheek a gentle slap.

"Go and serve your Mistress," he ordered.

Heidi moved across to Melissa and poured more wine. As always when near Melissa, Heidi trembled inwardly. She was in mortal dread of this sloe-eyed woman. Not surprising in view of all that she had done to her ... and was still capable of doing. It was true that women could be crueller to their own kind.

Quentin glanced at his watch. "Another half hour and I'll go and stick that dildo up her," he said.

"Yes ... you do that, dear husband," nodded Melissa with a brief, tigerish smile. "And don't be too gentle about it. That arrogant cow deserves everything that's coming to her!" That was a statement it would have been remarkably difficult to justify ... but it was how Melissa thought. Why ... that haughty-looking French aristocrat had actually insulted her! Well, she had been made to feel, and look, a lot less haughty. By Melissa personally.

Simone, it must be said, had now remained secured over the Punishment Block for an hour and a half, following her thirty-stroke caning by Quentin. She had received a stimulant injection to ensure she was fully aware of the agonising throbbing-burning of every single weal which encircled her buttocks and thigh-tops. Simone was fulsomely curvaceous in that area. The weals were long. She was moaning softly but almost continuously, except when shaken by a series of deep-groaning sobs. No sound could have better epitomised the bottomless pit of her wretchedness and despair. But it was a sound which did not reach the drawing room.

"I think I'll go and do a little shopping," said Melissa, getting up and tossing the remains of her glass into Maria's face. The girl, who had been standing attentively alongside, uttered a little gasp but did not move.

The wine trickled down over her breasts, which were as rounded as her sister's but just a shade larger. "You girl, come dress me in something else."

"Yes ... M-Mistress," said Maria meekly and followed after Melissa.

"Spoil yourself," called Quentin as his wife disappeared.

"Have fun ... " came her answer from a distance.

 

***

 

'Fun' began for Quentin when he returned to the Main Hallway a short while later. It was there that the Punishment Block had been set down temporarily. It had been a birthday present from Melissa and was of somewhat unusual design. The victim placed over it had her torso falling straight down its front, her neck secured in a collar and her wrists linked to that collar. Thus her buttocks were at the apex, thrust up high by a leather bolster ... a posture which offered, most particularly, her lower buttocks and thigh tops for attention. A most sensitive region. The thighs, which sloped down at an angle of about forty-five degrees, were not secured, but the calves were trapped under a heavy wooden trestle. But the main securing strap was a broad one which buckled around the waist at the front side of the bolster. Thus the girl was held rigid from waist to head, forced to keep her bottom squarely presented yet permitted some limited movement in that region. Simone had taken full advantage of that small freedom whilst being caned by Quentin! And, although held down by the heavy trestle, her lower limbs had repeatedly kicked and splayed as her torment had mounted.

Listening to the moans, Quentin surveyed the weal-striped hindquarters. By God, he thought, I really gave it to her that time! It was the worst thrashing she'd yet had from him.

Those long weals ... red-mauve tracks, crossing and criss-crossing everywhere. She'd be mighty glad when he sent her for treatment.(*) A spasm of those groaning-sobs shook Simone. Was she aware of his presence, he wondered? He picked up the rod he had used ... and tapped Simone's bottom lightly.

The woman screamed uninhibitedly in stark terror ...

"Well, my slave," said Quentin loudly ... and with a casualness he did not feel. "Are you now sorry you disobeyed your Master?"

Another and louder series of sobs, but no coherent answer. Quentin tapped again. Simone squirmed and shuddered uncontrollably.

"M-Mercy ... " came a hoarse croak. Despite her injection, Simone's mind was still half-wandering. The pain was too intense.

"Are you hearing me, slave?"

"Y-er ... esss ... u-u-ughhhh ... y-yess ... M-Master ... ugh ... uuggh ... uuugghhh."

"Then answer me!" Quentin tapped rather harder ... and Simone screamed again."

"M-MERCY ... AAAAGGGHHHH ... M-MERCY ... M-MASTER!" Simone was half-crazed with dread.

"I shall repeat the question," said Quentin heavily. "Are you sorry you disobeyed your Master?"

"U-u-ughhhh ... u-u-u-ugghhh ... y-y-uuughhh ... es ... y-yes ... M-Master ..." Simone managed to choke.

Quentin smiled faintly. Who wouldn't be, with a bottom in that state, he thought! He felt no remorse. It was not in his make-up. Well, perhaps that is not entirely true. There had been odd moments of remorse ... even pity ... in the early days of Julia. But he had hardened a lot since then. Perhaps Melissa's example had something to do with that. Now, if a slave ... a plaything ... had to suffer, so be it!

"Do you recall WHY I had to cane you?" asked Quentin.

There was a long pause, broken by more heaving sobs. "Y-Yer ... Y-Yer ... ess ... M-Master ..." Simone said at last.

"Because you were disobedient, slave, eh? And that I will NOT have!"

"Mmmfff ... u-u-ughhhh ... mmmfff ... u-u-ugggghhh ..."

Quentin watched the repeated quivering contractions of Simone's sumptuous buttocks. This was some woman. Plenty of meat on her. She made a pleasant contrast to the younger, riper charms of Maria and Heidi. Not that Simone was by any means fat or overweight. It was just that she was generously and maturely made.

"You refused to have that dildo up you. Very foolish. Since it's going up you in any event ..."

"Mmmfff ... u-u-ughhhh ... Oh God ... n-no ... oooo ... h-have mercy ... have mercy ... kill me ... r-rather ..."

"Don't be foolish, woman, " said Quentin briskly. "You're here for my amusement. And to serve me."

"U-UUUUGGGGHHHH ..." One long groan seemed to say it all. This was utter defeat. Utter degradation.

Quentin took the black dildo off the table. It had a purplish knob and glistened with the grease with which it had been coated.

It was six inches long and not particularly thickly girthed. In due time, Simone would be taking a nine-inch dildo and solidly-rounded with it. This was but the first state. She had to be stretched. In a certain sense, it could be called a 'merciful' procedure, reflected Quentin. To be bum-fucked by Cassim, when in a virgin state, would have been a true savagery. A mutilation. No point in that, really. Best this way ...

"Open your thighs," ordered Quentin. He held the dildo ready. Despite Melissa's injunction, he intended to go easily.

The thighs remained closed. Simone groaned horribly again.

"Do you want to feel the rod again?" Demanded Quentin in a voice of steel.

Hesitantly ... so reluctantly ... those thighs parted.

"You'll soon get used to it," said Quentin, rather like a kindly doctor with his patient. He pressed the knob of the dildo to Simone's anus. She began to wriggle as best she could ... but she could not wriggle far. Quentin had her at his mercy.

"NO ... OOOOOOOOOO!" It was a shrieking cry as the knob forced its way in. "DON'T ... FOR GOD'S SAKE ... DON'T ... NO ... OOOOOOOOOO!"

Quentin paused. There was no hurry. Anyway, he was enjoying the moment. "I could give you the lot in one, slave," he said, "if I felt like it. So think yourself lucky!"

However, from the horrible sounds Simone was making, she obviously did not consider this her lucky day.

Another inch ...

Another shrieking cry ... and even more desperate.

"Think yourself lucky it's not Cassim's prick," said Quentin, "he'd be in far more of a hurry ...

Another inch ...

Simone's shrieking began to become hysterical. Her pleas would have melted a heart of stone. But not Quentin's. Grinning with sadistic lechery, he continued to force the dildo in ... inch by inch... every minute or so ... until only its black base was visible.

Simone's shrieking had ceased. She was nearly insensible. Groaning again. It seemed to Quentin that a further injection was required. Two a day was the maximum. He gave it to his helpless victim ... whose awful sobbing and weeping filled the Hall as she revived.

"You're staying there for another couple of hours," announced Quentin. "By that time, it will be beginning to feel like a normal part of you ...

"Uuuuuurrrrrffff ... uuuurrrrrfffff ... uuuuuurrrrrrffffff ..."

"For the next few weeks," continued Quentin, "you'll have one up you for eight hours a day. Every day. And they'll get bigger. By the time I've finished, you'll be taking nine inches. Like Julia and the girls now can. Nothing to it, my beauty!"

He gave Simone's scarred bottom a none to gentle slap. Was he getting through to her? Did she understand? Or was she too distraught? It didn't matter much. She'd hear all the glad tidings again on the morrow anyway!

"Uuuuuurrrrrrffffff ... uuuuuurrrrrrffffff ... uuuurrrrrfffff ..."

No ... it did not seem that, at the moment, Simone was quite COMPOS MENTIS. A pity, but no matter. Quentin swung on his heel, left the Hall and returned to the small drawing room.