Chapter 1

 

Eva Ariosi was behind her desk, with a single chair placed as far from her as it was possible to get. The expression on her face gave nothing away.

"Please sit down, Peter."

He did so.

She wasted no time. "I have decided that I will not attend any more training sessions with you for the moment; I simply cannot afford to risk the possible consequences of being in close proximity with you in those conditions. I will however, watch the proceedings on CCTV and have had high definition cameras fitted in the rooms set aside for your use." She took a deep breath. "The sessions I have attended with you have been... extraordinary in their effect on me, as you know. As you also know, I am deeply concerned that the changes I have detected in myself may affect my daily business. I have taken the things you have said to me deeply to heart and I promise that I will do my best to follow your advice. I will, of course, tell you of the results, good or bad."

He said nothing, simply inclined his head in acknowledgement.

She went on. "I owe you a deep debt of gratitude for showing me things in my character that I never suspected existed and which have brought me such intense pleasure. I truly long to experience those feelings again, but I must... must first evaluate their effect. I have already told you all this, Peter, but now I am making a formal record of it for my private files. I further promise you unconditionally, that I will never knowingly cause you any form of harm for any reason related to this... relationship. Does that satisfy you?"

"It does."

Another deep breath. "Thank you, Peter. I wanted to commit this promise to paper, but such documents, if misplaced..."

"I quite understand. Your word is good enough for me."

"You gave me a safety word: 'peppermint'. Now I'm giving you one, just in case: 'spearmint'."

He had to grin. It was reciprocated.

"Today is the eighth. On the seventh of next month, with your agreement, I will join you in the training room."

"Agreed." A thought struck him, "but I can't leave Pet on ice all that time."

"Accepted. Which brings me to the other subject we spoke about. Have you considered the plan about abducting new... material?"

"Yes. I think Europe, Luxemburg or Lichtenstein. Possibly Andorra or San Marino."

"Not the first two," she retorted, promptly. "I have... things going on in those areas. San Marino... maybe, but it doesn't appeal for some reason, not that that is a disbarment to further study. But Andorra has certain advantages, now that it comes up. Do you know a Juan Alvarez?"

He frowned. "It rings a faint bell from somewhere, but I can't fix it."

"He must be in his sixties now, but twenty years ago, he was head of a Spanish unit that specialised in abducting the wives of prominent Basque activists."

"Ah! Now I have him! Big scandal when one of the women was killed. The foreign press went to town on it, called him the Hispanic Skorzeny."

"That's right. Why 'Skorzeny?' by the way?"

"He was the man who commanded the Mussolini rescue in 1944; still used as an example of how to do such operations. Confirmed Nazi, but quite a character; I think they tried him for war crimes after the war, but he got off."

"Ah, yes. Thank you. But on the subject of Juan Alvarez; he claimed then and still does, that none of his men fired the shot, but that it was her husband letting loose with a sub-machine gun. He had a very good-looking mistress, Alvarez claims, and took the chance to get rid of his wife. Whatever the truth of it, Alvarez took the blame for the whole thing and was ejected from the service without a pension."

"That is a surprising amount of knowledge of an incident that was what, twenty-odd years ago."

She smiled, "I have a good memory, if not for SS officers and I read as many field reports as I can. This Juan Alvarez turned up in an agency we run in Andorra, looking for work, They checked up on him, discovered his history and concluded that they couldn't make a decision without guidance, so they referred it up and it landed on my desk, because I want to know when we come into contact with prominent people, even if their prominence is... dated. I thought that he'd make a good sniffer-out of information, so told them to take him on."

"Ah. Interesting. Does he know who he works for?"

"Of course not. But with his background and history, which includes the fact that he likes his women in numbers, he could be invited for interview. With suitable safeguards in case he's developed a loose tongue. Or a taste for alcohol, though there's nothing in record to that effect."

That sounded like the old Eva, anyway, but he didn't comment on it. "Will you interview him?"

"No. That's your territory. How's your Spanish?"

"Rough. I might be able to order a beer."

"I'm fluent, but I don't want him to see me or even suspect who I am. Let's hope he speaks English, then. If not, Isabella can interpret." She gave him an arch look. "You'd appreciate her. She's good with her mouth; speaks Spanish, too. If necessary, ask Bettina for her."

She seemed to be unfreezing from her early rigidity, but he thought it prudent to make no comment. "Right, then I'll get on with the training and try not to get in your line of sight. And I'll wait for you to tell me when Senor Alvarez is due."

"Three days."

"You mean you've already arranged it?"

"No, of course not; how could I when you brought up Andorra only five minutes ago? I just say 'three days' and it's done in three days, that's all."

"Oh... I see." 'That', he thought, 'is what power is all about.'

 

***

 

"Good morning, Pet." She glowered at him, but didn't speak. So she was learning to guard her tongue. "Did you enjoy you latest encounter with Alexis and Alexander?"

"They rough fucked me!" she spat. "Before they put me in this damned contraption again!"

"Did they, now? That's interesting. So is the fact that liars get extra strokes. Now that was both clumsy and poorly judged. It certainly isn't worthy of you; getting scared, are you?"

She paled, but said nothing.

The new frame still wasn't ready, but it was meant to be used with a group of onlookers, so he was happy to wait for it. Following his directions, the pair had put her in the first of the gadgets he'd used on her, so that she was spread very uncomfortably as well as being widely exposed. The marks of his and Madame Eva's previous attentions were still quite visible, many of them now purple, but the inside of her thighs was an attractive, deep red. "Care to retract that accusation?" he enquired.

Silence, with her head turned to one side.

"No? It's up to you. It's... let's say ten extra."

Still silence and the refusal to look at him. She'd gone to passive defiance mode. It was ridiculously easy to break. He reached forward, to the centre of her gaping thighs, and tweaked out a single blonde pubic hair.

"Ow! Bastard! What the hell do you...?" she bit her lip.

"Slipped, did we? Ah, well, we all do it. Now, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you...

She couldn't hold back any more. "Bad news? You are fucking bad news, you greasy excuse for a human being!" she burst out. "You're nothing more than a fucking coward! Why don't you untie me from this thing and give me a fair chance?"

"All very eloquent, Pet. Slightly repetitive, too. But you really should have realised by now that outbursts like that bring consequences. You've just earned yourself twenty more strokes."

"Fucking bastard!"

"Pet, please don't make me give you more, I beg you. Let me tell you where you're going to get them before you make things much worse."

She seemed to realise that he was serious. He saw the colour drain even further from her cheeks and her throat worked. She stared at him, anxiety in her eyes.

"You see," he said, keeping his voice conversational. My original intention was to use this," he produced the riding crop from behind his back, "to give you ten. On the cunt."

She gasped, her eyes becoming stricken, face now stark white. "You... can't! Not even you... No, please God no!"

"Nice of you to accord me the status of deity, Pet, but it gets a bit worse. You see, you've earned yourself an extra thirty strokes."

Her eyes bulged. "No," she cried hoarsely, tears starting. "Please, you can't...can't! Not that! I... I take it back!"

He shook his head. "It's a bit late for that, I'm afraid. You have to pay for your mistakes And you do keep making them. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Please, don't do it! Please! Tell me what you want, but not... there. Please!"

He unlocked the swivel mechanism. "Oh, come on, Pet. It won't be all that bad. I've known lots of women who..." he swung the entire frame so that she rotated backward to just beyond the horizontal..

Her litany of pleas was cut off by a squeal of alarm as she was swung upside-down - it always happened, no matter how often it was done - but came back, re-doubled when she realised just how vulnerable this new position made her to what he'd promised.

"Please, no! Don't! I beg you, don't!"

"You can take ten, Pet." He paused. "Mind you, another thirty on top of that, well..."

The pleas grew even more desperate and increased in intensity, but cut off into a demented howl when the first stroke went in. It was always the same with cunt-beatings; the mere threat of being hit... there... was bad enough for the woman, but that first impact always drew the same sort of shriek. He'd been told by slaves who'd experienced it - and all had - that it wasn't really as bad as the inside of the thighs; it was just the thought of having the centre of her womanhood so assaulted that caused the reaction. The single exception to that was if a stroke hit full on the clitoris which, they said, surpassed anything. It was one reason that he always took a good look to make sure that his victim wasn't one of those with an enlarged clit. If they were, he reduced the strokes, sometimes to as few as two.

He didn't hold back; most of his punishments were intended to be salutary at this stage of training, but this one was special: it drove home the point that he could do anything he liked with nothing and nowhere sacred. It wasn't done too often because the psychological effect was most effective early on, like now. So it was full strength from the word go.

She didn't like it one little bit; she howled and shrieked from the beginning, the sounds so prolonged that there was no room for pleading. After three, he paused to look, in case the clit had swollen, which happened sometimes. That pause gave her time to draw breath and begin to beg, but he gave her the next before she really got started, so the incoherent yells were very nearly continuous for the entire time,

At ten, he paused and waited for the noise to die to sobs. He left the frame where it was, just for effect as he had no intention of continued there.

"Well, Pet," he said, again in his fireside chat voice. "You see now why I warned you about your behaviour. "Normally, any extra strokes you've earned go into the same place..."

He was cut off by the howl of anguish that arose. "No! No! Anything! Not there, I beg you!"

She was in the state in which she would have agreed to anything, but was a false dawn in terms of progress, brought on by the shock of being hit there.

"Let's see," he went on. The first ten were for lying, weren't they?" He paused. "I don't hear a reply, Pet. Are you disagreeing with me about that?"

There was sufficient inflexion if those words to prompt a response. "Yes," she groaned. "I lied."

"Ah! And what does that make you, Pet?"

He was toying with her and she knew it. But she knew that she was the one suspended on her back with her legs spread obscenely and oh, so vulnerably, with him stand between them. "A liar," she muttered.

"Sorry, didn't hear that," he said.

He almost heard her teeth grind. "I'm a liar!" she screamed... and checked what very nearly followed.

"Well now. They say that confession is good for the soul. In your case, it's gone rather more good for something else. I'm cutting it down to five. But they're still going... guess where?"

"Nooooo! No......aaaaaaaaaagh!"

They were quite as hard as the last ten, but you'd have been hard put to tell from the noises she made. When he finished, he walked away from her and took a swing from the bottle of fruit juice that was always put there for him. He waited, relaxing, until the sound had diminished to sobs, then walked to her head, which was hanging back, lacking support. The position did curious things to the tear-tracks on her face and brow.

"Well, Pet. You will probably be glad to know that I won't be doing that to you again. Not unless you blot your copy-book in a big way, that is. And I don't think you'll be doing any more lying, will you?"

A groan. "No," she managed then groaned again.

"Don't worry, it's not bleeding and it'll heal soon enough. But now we have to address the rest of the strokes you earned yourself."

The head jerked up." She stared at him with tear-filled eye. Rest?" she almost squeaked, panic showing. "But..."

"But nothing, Pet. Nasty bit of verbal abuse, that was; quite hurt my feelings."

"Hurt..." she gasped incredulously. "Why, you..." she must have seen the smile forming and bit it off, letting her head drop back.

He grinned. "Yes, the rest. All twenty of them."

The hanging head shook a violent negative, but she stayed silent.

"Sorry, but there it is, You earned them and as I've always said: 'it's up to you'."

"Gaaaaaaaargh!"

He grinned again; he loved this teasing game. But it has its practical side: it taught them early to keep their opinions to themselves. Discipline; lovely word. "But I'm feeling rather more magnanimous than usual today, so I'll give you a choice. Aren't I kind? No? Oh, all right. What about ten on the arse and ten on the tits? Or maybe five on the arse and fifteen on the tits? Or the other way round? Or maybe all twenty on tits or arse?" It's up to you. Five seconds, or I choose."

"Ooooooo! Aaaarrrrrrgh! F... five on the b... tits and fifteen on the a... arse."

"Sure?"

"Yes! " it came out as a shriek, followed by a howl of anguished anticipation.

"Right-ho. Give me a sec while I get the crop and then we can start." He strolled over to his store and selected the crop, the same one that Eva had used. Bending it between his hands, he wandered back, taking his time as the sobs intensified.

"You're in a pretty good position as you are, " he commented. "And they really are good, aren't they? Thirty-six, maybe? C cup, or D? Difficult to say from here. I rather look forward to getting my cock between them."

"Aaaaaaarrrrrgh!"

"Oh, sorry. Quite forgot why I was here for a moment. Now, how would you like them? All on one? Three and two? Or lucky dip?"

"Oh... oh... please! Just get on with it!"

Well if you're that impatient... Er, just one question, if I may. Do I start on the left or right?"

She howled frustration. He grinned then gave her five half-hearted taps that hardly raised a weal, though she squealed a bit.

"Now to arrange you again. You're putting me to a lot of trouble, you know. I hope you appreciate it."

As he swung her upright, he could see from her face that she knew exactly what he was up to. Her eyes and mouth were clamped tight, but he was prepared to bet that what she most wanted was to cover her ears. He kept up the idle, mocking tone as he fitted the large roller across her lower belly and pushed until she was bent and nicely strained, adjusted the frame to put her at just over forty-five degree, face down, picked up his cane and started putting them in.

She might have judged from the taps on her tits that he was going to do the same here. But although the flesh was still tender from previous attentions, he laid them in viciously hard. Of all places on the body, this was the natural target and most resilient. It attracted and received the vast bulk of punishments, becoming more or less sensitive with the time between beatings. Poor Pet was at the stage where it was still two or three sessions away from its most tender and this fifteen hardly counted; half a session, at most.

Whether she appreciated that or not he couldn't tell, though he could place where he was in the 'tenderising' process with considerable accuracy from her reactions, which were vocally active, but at nothing like the pitch they'd reach in a very few days. He applied the strokes in his usual meticulous way, changing sides every five and examining the area just struck for excessive over-cut and damage before starting again. When finished, he stored the cane, swung the frame upright, squeezed a breast and left, humming.

The two Alex's were outside, watching one of the CCTV monitors. As he emerged, they smiled. "That was one of the best sessions we've ever seen, sir," said Alexander, with Alexis rumbling agreement. "You got her just right."

"She's got a long way to go," he replied, pleased at the praise from these two, who could do his job if they chose. "But she's getting there slowly."

"And that's the best way, sir," agreed the towering black man. Any special instructions?"

"Give her a drink and food and let the doctor have a look at her, if you would. You could give her a mattress and a pillow, too. And ask Bettina if should could organise a shower, with female company, numbers as appropriate. She's starting to smell."

"Consider it done, sir."

"No message from Eva? Well, perhaps she was getting bored. Thanks, boys."

"Thank you, sir" they chorused.