John abraham wallpapers in force 2018

Date: 15.10.2018, 00:15 / Views: 31434
Закрыть ... [X]

Provided By:

Synopsis: Sandrine is a young high school student. A few days after celebrating her 18th birthday with wallpapers college only a few weeks away, she is kidnapped by a rich woman who will introduce her to the pains and the joys of submission.

Story of Sandrine (1)

By Perverpeper on 05/15/08

F/f F+/f F/f+ F+/f+ teen enema exhibition WaterSport bestriality BDSM feet hair slavery scatology college hightSchool job slow reluctant humiliation blckmail torture nc Heavy

Summary: Sandrine is a young high school student.  A few days after celebrating her 18th birthday with college only a few weeks away, she is kidnapped by a rich woman who will introduce her to the pains and the joys of submission.

Comment : This is a translation from the french version. Please, let me know what you think about it.

Target the passions rather than the virtues when you want to persuade a woman.

– D. A. F. Marquis de Sade.

Chapter 1: The kidnapping

Players (In order of appearance):

Sandrine: Young high school student who turned 18 only a few days ago

Madame: Pretty blonde in her 40s, Mistress of Lisette

Lisette: Little maidservant around 20, serving Madame

Ghislaine: Friend of Sandrine

Sylvie: Friend of Sandrine

I wake up with a throbbing pain in my head.  I open my eyes but a total darkness prevents me from seeing anything.  A terrible panic fills my mind and I try to rise quickly when I feel an even more terrible pain across my shoulders.

My wrists are locked in place…  My arms are tied above my head…  Same thing for my legs.  In fact, I’m immobilized horizontally on a very uncomfortable surface.  The strain of my effort has revived my headache and I have no other option except to let go of the tension in my body.

“HEL…”  No sound escapes my mouth.  A rag is jammed between my teeth, tightly secured in place by a muzzle that cuts across the nape of my neck.  A deafening silence surrounds me.  I hear no noise from cars, birds or voices at all.

Where am I?  What time is it?  My recollections are hazy.  I spent the day at school….  But that’s all I can remember.  A chill travels the length of my body from head to toe.  Someone grabbed me.  I was kidnapped.

I try to turn on my back with all the strength I have left but the shackles holding my wrists and my ankles are solidly anchored and keep them implacably spread apart.

A profound despair overtakes me.  What will happen to me?  What kind of horrible monster would commit such a terrible act?  I know that my parents have a tough time making ends meet and that they will never have the means to pay a ransom.

I don’t have any enemies, quite the contrary.  The graduating class in which I belong is one in which I had the most fun of all my school years.  All the boys court me and… That’s it… My kidnapper is obviously a high school kid who didn’t like the way I got rid of him.  Instantly, I think of Julien who spends his time making advances at me and who I put in his place rather sharply last week.  A rush of adrenaline hits me.  He will take by force what I refused to give him.  Still, he looked kind of nice and in love too…  He has been chasing me since the beginning of the school year, but there’s nothing I can do about it, I have no attraction whatsoever for boys.

A noise in the distance breaks my train of thought.  The sound of heels hitting the floor reaches me and grows louder, accompanied by a weaker clicking sound I can only identify the moment a key is pushed into the lock.  My blood stops cold.  The door opens with a squeaking noise and I must crane my neck to locate my kidnapper.  Unfortunately, the light coming from the open door blinds me.  I can only detect a shadow.

“So Sandrine, are you awake?”

A female voice…  A woman kidnapped me.  A little reassured, I stretch as much as my bonds allow it to make out my visitor, but an unyielding light makes me groan in the gag as it burns my eyes.  The room in which I am a prisoner is equipped with very powerful lights.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want to hurt you”, she said with a surprisingly low voice.

She moves closer to me and leans forward, bringing her face close to mine and shielding my eyes from the blinding light.  She’s a woman in her 40s, pretty good-looking.  Her face looks familiar, not that I can tell why.  She puts her hand on my forehead and caresses me softly while my eyes get accustomed to the light.  I am lying down level with her hips and I look at her, my eyes wide with horror.

“You remember me?” she asks, placing her lips on my forehead.

I thrash around in my bonds trying to avoid her contact.

“Careful my pretty one, there is only you and me here, and I just told you that I don’t want to hurt you.”

I groan louder.

“Come on, be patient, young girl, as soon as you quiet down, I will remove this sorry gag from your lovely mouth.”

Her hand continues to lightly brush my forehead.  A thousand questions form in my head: Who is she?  What does she want from me?  Why did she bring me here?  Her mouth moves closer again.  I move my head away again, but a sharp slap makes me break down and cry.

“I told you that I don’t want to hurt you but you must see to it that you do not test my limits, my dear.  In case you hadn’t noticed, I am the one who decides, I am the one who feeds you, I am the one chooses when you can go to the bathroom.  In short, you are entirely at my mercy.  No-one knows where you are and this place is sufficiently isolated for anyone to come here and look for you.”

She grabs something from behind my head and wraps it around my forehead.  It feels like a belt attached to the contraption on which I am immobilized because with the strap in place, it becomes impossible for me to move my head.

I close my eyes and the contact of her tongue on my cheek makes me jump.  She is licking my tears.

“Too bad you are not reasonable my pretty one.  Your stay here might become rather unpleasant if you don’t make a bit of an effort.”

I feel like I’m in hell.  Quartered, locked in place, at the mercy of a crazy woman that I don’t know.  Sporting an impeccable pony tail pulling her blond hair back, her wide blue eyes stand out from her severe face as they look at me pitilessly.  She looks like a predator circling her prey.  Her voice, with its calm tone, gives a stark contrast to her severe expression.  Unable to move my head, I look away like a little girl caught doing something wrong to avoid her stare.

Suddenly, I choke.  She has pinched my nose using her thumb and index finger and tells me slowly, articulating each word:

“You know my dear, I can do whatever I want to your beautiful body.  I have the power of life and death over you…”

Struck by panic, I do not hear the end of her sentence.  My lungs start to burn horribly.  She is going to kill me, that’s for sure.  I see small dots of light dancing in front of my eyes.  I scream in my gag which now slips to the back of my mouth, sucked in by my throat.  I am suffocating.  This is the end.

“So, Sandrine, have you decided to become reasonable?” she asks, letting me take in a large breath.  Her voice seems to come from another world.  Panting, I catch my breath with great difficulty.

At the end of my rope, I agree by making unintelligible sounds and by trying to shake my head yes in spite of the belt holding it in place.

“Good for you,” she says, leaning forward again to collect a new tear with the tip of her tongue.

“I always get what I want.  You will learn that.”  She carefully removes the muzzle around my head before extracting the rag gag from between my lips, crumpled and totally soaked after its time in my mouth.

I am swimming in sweat as drops trickle down my seemingly bloodless face.  Beads streak down my temples and neck.

“W…W…Why?” I ask stuttering, my breathing uneven.

“W…W…Who are you?”

“You do not need to know that.” She answers with a harsh voice.  “For you, as well as the others, I am ‘Madame’.  I hope that you will remember that.”  She adds, pressing her lips delicately against mine.

Then, without a word, she turns and leaves the room, leaving me alone in the middle of a nightmare while the sound of her heels hitting the floor grows weaker and weaker, quickly absorbed by the silence of the room.

I realize that I am tired.  My muscles are as stiff as they get after a day of physical education.  My parents’ house, my school year, college, all my usual worries seem like distant memories and totally secondary.

The rough surface on which I am lying hurts my back and my shoulders.  A thought invades me: What does she want from me?

A new wave of despair overcomes me.  Tears fill my eyes as I look up to the high ceiling.  Through a blurred vision, I can barely make out the white tiling that entirely covers it.  I am devastated.  No matter how hard I try to turn my eyes sideways, I cannot see much of anything.  The coldness of coating covering the ceiling and the walls and the lighting which looks like the kind you see in an operating room give me the impression that I am in a hospital.

Unconsciously, I let my spirit wonder.  I see myself back in high school at the end of classes.  There we were all three of us strolling down the sidewalk and talking about our upcoming college days, one of our main concerns.  Sylvie and Ghislaine, my two childhood friends, were with me.

“Ghis” has the same brown hair as I do, as opposed to the blond mane of “Syl”.  We came across a group of boys and a few whistles came from behind us after we had passed.  We had all agreed a long time ago that we would not turn around whenever that happened.  Only a word that sounded like “perverse” or “pretentious” reached my ears.  I have to admit that my friends never held back as far as being seductive was concerned.  They both had miniskirts on and “Ghis” wore shoes with four-centimeter heels.  As for “Syl”, she wore her faithful black boots with low heels.

My two friends are two hot beauties and in spite of their mediocre grades at school, I have no worries about their future.  They both signed a contract with a modeling agency that had already landed them each a modeling job.

As opposed to them, I do not like drawing attention to my body.  My favorite way to dress remains, since childhood, the traditional “black Converse Jeans”.  However, my pride got stroked by the telling stares I got from the boys who all looked at me from head to toe with keen eyes.

Men were not my “cup of tea”.  In my deepest, most intimate secrets, I knew with certainty that girls were what attracted me.  “Syl” fascinated me and “Ghis” interested me almost as much.  Still, never would I ever dare confess about the flame that burned in my soul all those years.  Probably because of the education I had received from my parents whom I adored, even if today I only saw them on the rare occasions I did not sleep away from home.

“Ok girls, let me buy you a drink,” said Sylvie.  They were both from well-off families and I admired the ease with which they discreetly displayed their good fortune.  Neither one of them would ever lead me to believe that I did not belong in the social circle.  Good thing too because I would not have allowed it.

Under a blazing sun, we took seats on the terrace of a café, happy to escape the heavy atmosphere of this whirlwind period.  The beginning of this June weekend looked fabulous.

Suddenly, a flash comes to mind.  A few tables away, a group of business women, or at least that’s what their attire seemed to say, were discussing under the shade of a parasol.  The most elegant one of them kept looking at me with an interest that made me blush.

It was her… It was that woman who had taken me… The latest events were so crazy that I had almost forgotten about that.

Engrossed in my conversation with the girls, I had stopped paying attention to her.  We enjoyed our drinks and then… A black hole… As if I had never left the terrace of that café.

This memory fells like a cold shower and abruptly brings me back to the harsh reality of my condition.  That explains why this woman has asked me if I remembered her.  New tears blind me.  An uncontrollable sorrow seizes me.  I start to sob, sniffling loudly.

A terrible urge to urinate suddenly makes me come out of my lethargic state.  Aching all over, I guess I must have slept for a moment…  Or a few hours.  I totally lost track of time, and the urge turns quickly into a nightmare.  How long have I been held prisoner in this horrible place?  I absolutely have to go to the bathroom without delay.  “It is me who decides when you can go to the bathroom.”  The words resonate in my poor head.

All false pride now gone, I start to scream:


Try as I might to fight this for the longest time…


No-one answers my calls.  My ordeal takes on dramatic proportions.  If she doesn’t free immediately, I will have to pee in my panties just like a little girl.

But my pleas remain unanswered.  My bladder has become so painful that, with the greatest shame, I let go like a little girl, inundating my undergarments at the cost of some unparallel relief.  I feel the wetness progress between my pant legs, soon to be replaced by a cold sensation brought on by evaporation.  The minutes inch by and the strong odor of my perspiration is overtaken by the more acid one of my “pee”.

I no longer count how many times I cried.  Never in my life have I felt such a humiliation.  I shiver.  I feel my nipples stick out as if they were going to pierce through my bra.

It is true horror.  Unable to stop sobbing, I lapse once again into an agitated sleep filled with strange dreams which leave me with only odd memories.

My clothes completely dried out during my sleep.  The smell now more tenacious than ever fills my nostrils.  The room temperature is hot and I am not cold anymore but curiously, my nipples are still as hard as before.

I must have slept for a long time because I feel rested.  Only the pain in my back and my arms would bother me were it not for that stubborn odor I have a tough time getting used to.  My throat is dry and I begin to feel thirsty.

An unusual heat has taken hold of my chest, much like a light itch.  The need for a massage invades my thoughts.  It is not the first time this happens to me but I am amazed that it can occur under such circumstances.  I felt the same way before one evening I was alone in my room.  I was thinking about Sylvie, about her stunning body, her long legs and her perfect chest.  That day, we had gone to the pool.  There were only the two of us and, after swimming and playing around for a long time, we had hit the shower together.  Certain of not being bothered, she had taken everything off until she was completely naked and while she was washing her hair, I turned to look at her discreetly.

She is blond from head to toe and I really enjoyed the delicious view she gave me…  The sound of footsteps and keys getting closer to my prison interrupts my train of thought.

It is the crazy woman coming back.  I cannot help but hope that this situation will not last and that the time to go free is near.  She enters the room and moves towards me at a steady pace.

“Surprise Sandrine” she says moving closer.  Her tone of voice is severe, low and demanding.  “Yuck… I can smell a little girl that neglected herself here.”

I turn red with shame.  Of course, she noticed the ‘little accident’ I had a moment ago.  Her hand caresses my cheeks softly.

“I hope that now you understand who decides here.”  Her green eyes go right through me.  She is wearing a dress made of black leather that contrasts with her blond mane of hair and enhances her inherently severe look.

“Yes, yes, I’m begging you!  Untie me!”

“Well my dear, you look in better spirits.  It is true that it’s not very comfortable here.  Let me make a deal with you…”

“Anything you want but please, untie me!”

“So be it.  I will start”, she says untying the belt that kept my head immobile, then adding: “It’s your turn now.  What do you have for me in return?”

The question surprises me; I don’t know what to answer.  “Well, er, I don’t know…”

A crooked smile appears on her face.  “You could give me a small kiss… on the mouth…” she says leaning over me.

Her fragrance is a pleasure: both fresh and subtle.  A discreet but penetrating perfume.  To the point where I forget the smell of urine in which I have been submerged for so long.

“If… If you… If you want” I manage to blurt out with a meek voice.

She was careful to keep her face about 10 centimeters from mine.  I must pull strongly on my bonds to reach her lips and reluctantly press mine against them.

She bursts out laughing.  “That is what you call a kiss?...  You could at least pretend if you want to convince me.”

My cheeks turn crimson.  This woman takes pleasure in humiliating me.  I give a superhuman effort and, pulling on my sore muscles with all my might, put my lips against hers to plant on them a more pressing kiss.


“That’s better” she says, serious once again.  “My turn.”

She takes a few steps back and hits a button located near the door.  I take advantage of this opportunity to look around the room in which I am being held prisoner.  It is entirely tiled in white and, were it not for that sturdy wooden table on which I am being quartered, it looks like an infirmary.  Long white sinks are fixed on the wall to the right and a phenomenal quantity of furniture and white shelves are all over the place.

A new set of footsteps comes from the corridor, approaching rapidly.

“Those pants must be unpleasant.  What a terrible smell” she says walking back towards me.  “It would best to take them off, don’t you think?”

“But… You said that you were going to untie me…”


“You have a short memory, I made a deal with you and you agreed” she says, cutting me off harshly.  “It’s give-and-take.  The ball is in your court.”

She has lit a cigarette which she now smokes with a long and thin cigarette holder, the kind people used a century ago.


“Madame called me?”

Much to my surprise, it is a petite brunette roughly my age that has stopped in the doorway.  She is very skinny and her white apron enhances her very narrow waist.  She seems around 20 at the most and wears a maid outfit which makes her look like she just stepped out from a Luis Buñuel movie.

“Yes Lisette, remove those pants from this young girl will you?  She stinks.”

“Very well Madame.”

I turn red again.  Not only am I at the mercy of this crazy woman but then, she asks this stranger to undress me.

Visibly accustomed to following orders, the little maid hurries towards a drawer from which she produces a pair of scissors and with which she starts cutting off my pants.  What a disappointment…

While the other one busies herself with those scissors, the blond asks me again with the same crooked smile.

“I am listening Sandrine.”  The smoke from her cigarette makes my eyes itch.

“If you untie me and let me go, I promise you not to tell anyone about this.”

New burst of laughter.  “Don’t worry, my pretty one, I will let you go… When I feel like it…”  She turns silent for a moment, dreamingly thinking before adding icily: “For now, I am waiting for your end of the deal.”

Playing cat and mouse with me seems to please her a lot.  My problem is that I really don’t know what kind of deal I can propose her.

“Come on Sandrine, are you short of ideas?  You could give me another kiss, with your tongue this time…”  Before I can think or protest, she grabs my face with both hands and kisses me for a while.  Her tongue circles my mouth at length, bonds with mine before it fades away, leaving me panting and breathless.  Curiously, this does not disgust me.

Meanwhile, the little maid is done cutting the pants off of me.

“Will Madame still need me”?

“Yes Lisette, but it will mostly be our young friend who will need your services.  Stay with us a moment.”  She hands over her cigarette, from which ash is close to falling, to the young girl who precipitately offers her hand as an ashtray.

“Very well Madame,” she answers, her head bowed.

“Give her a drink, she has been here almost 12 hours now and she must be thirsty.  Bring me back my riding crop while you’re at it.”

“A riding crop!!!  This is getting better and better all the time!!!  You are stone crazy,” I yell out of despair.

A pair of slaps makes my head spin.  “That, girl, is a language you will never use again with me.”  Her eyes are throwing flames.  “You hear me?  Never again.”

I look away and shake my head yes, sniffling.

“I think you need to learn your lesson… Lisette, the t-shirt and the bra.”


“Very well Madame.”

While she busies herself with dexterity and cuts to shreds the few pieces of clothing I have left to keep my modesty, I notice how much the little brunette looks like Inès, the maid in the movie ‘The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.’

Suddenly, a burning pain, on the left thigh, makes me thrash in my bonds screaming.

“The straps,” adds the lady, raising her riding crop again.

The second blow cuts into my right thigh.  I scream even louder.

“To you, I am ‘Ma-da-me,’” she says, pausing between each syllable to hit me again on each thigh and on the stomach.  “You understand?”

“Yes Ma… Madame.  I… I under… I understand.  Stop it.  I’m begging you.”

My voice is almost inaudible as I stammer between sobs.

“That’s better.  Now, not a word unless I invite you to talk.  Or else…”

And she swings the riding crop in the air, making it whistle by my ears.

I am now crucified on the table.  Straps hold my thighs, my waist, my arms and my forearms.

The woman moves closer to my naked form and runs her hands on my body.  Using the tip of her perfectly manicured nails, she traces the welts she just gave me.  I groan as quietly as I possibly can.  Very slowly, she caresses my belly, goes around my belly button and brings her hand up, very flatly, all the way to my breasts.  She does so softly and her caresses make me feel better.

“I can give you pleasure… Or pain.”  She grabs the nipple of my left breast between her thumb and forefinger and twists it savagely.  Using her other hand, she moves her fingertips only centimeters away from my sensitive flesh.  I feel sick to my stomach.  “Pleasure…”  She slides her hand along my belly and softly brushes my inner thighs.  “Or pain…”  A flick from her nails hits my other nipple.

“Your body totally belongs to me, as does everything else here.  Isn’t that so, Lisette?”


“Yes Mistress,” amswers the maid, her eyes downcast.  She is kneeling in a curious position at the foot of the table:  Her arms are crossed behind her back and she permanently keeps her eyes on the floor, a few centimeters in front of her opened knees.  The blond goes around me and, from her position above me, looks at me right in the eyes while presenting her a hand on which the little maid plants a long kiss.

“What do you choose, Sandrine?  The pleasure or the pain?”

“The pleasure!!!” I say without thinking.

A sudden slash from the riding crop across my belly draws a scream from me.

“The pleasure, WHAT?”

“MADAME!!!  The pleasure Madame!” I say quickly.

“Just as I thought, little pervert!  Well, the lesson is over” she says, offering me her lips.  I kiss her with a subdued eagerness, determined to do my best to not upset her.  Her hands resume her exploration of my breasts.  I groan endless through her mouth.

It’s an incredibly strong sensation, her expert tongue and hands take me to an unknown universe.  My thoughts become blurry and I forget everything to concentrate on the pleasure progressing insidiously between my legs.  She goes down to my inner thighs, comes back to my breasts, expertly alternating between superficial and deep caresses to, finally, bring me to an orgasm of tremendous intensity.  An immense frustration takes over me when she abandons me, panting in my bonds.  Never have I experienced a pleasure so complete, so devastating.

“You have know that there are other rules.  There are many of them and any transgression will be severely punished.

For starters, you must never look at me in the eye.

You will always address me with respect.

You will not talk when I ask you something.

You will obey all my orders.

Everything else, Lisette will explain to you.  You must obey her as you would me.  She has the authority to punish you if it becomes necessary.”

At that moment, my frustration is such that I do not realize all the implications of what she has just told me.


“Yes Madame?”

“I am putting her under your care.  First, make her take a complete shower.”  She insists heavily on the word ‘complete’.  “Then you will dress her, outfit #1, and you present her to me in the small living room at 12:30.   You will pay the price if the service is not perfect…”

Up next: The surprise

Chapter 2: The surprise

Without adding a word, the blond woman exits the room, leaving me alone with the little maid.  With her boss now gone, she gets up and starts, with great dexterity, to remove my bonds.  She has accurately identified my distress and tries to reassure me by talking to me softly, in a language amazingly common as opposed to the one she used in front of her mistress.

“Don’t worry, Madame is a genius of a woman.  In a few days, you will beg her to stay with her.”

“You’re crazy!  How could you…”

“Hush!  Watch it!  The place is full of mikes and cameras.  She knows everything that goes on in here.  Shut up and obey me without fail, otherwise I’ll have to punish you.  Above all, speak only when I ask you to and don’t make me repeat.”

Lisette has left one of my wrists tied to the table.  It is with relief that I move from this uncomfortable position.  Sitting at the edge of the table, I gaze at the leather straps that held my limbs in place.  Each one has a ring firmly attached to it, the inside of which is lined with fur to preserve my skin.  This token of protection reassures me.

“Here, have a drink.”

She hands me a tall glass of water.

While I quench my thirst, she keeps busy in the closets and comes back towards me pushing a small cart covered with tools of all kind.  With movements that betray a vast experience, she coats the red welts from the riding crop that cover my body with a cool balm that tickles me for a moment before giving me an amazingly beneficial sensation.

“It will do you good.  In two days, maybe three, it won’t show anymore.”

She massages my stomach at length using a very sensual circular motion, spelling out her instructions with a sure voice:

“Bend backwards… Turn around… Move up…”

Then she kneels between my legs and does the same thing with my thighs.  The smell of my panties soaked with urine puts me to shame but her nose, so close to my crotch, gives me a strange sensation.  It does not seem to bother her and I finally abandon myself to her good care.

“Mmmmm!!! You smell of piss,” she whispers.  “I love it.”  Continuing passionately with her massage, she moves her head forward and takes a long sniff from my panties.  My God, what a weird feeling.  The tips of my breasts are harder than ever.

“Open your legs and make sure you don’t move,” she adds, her voice almost too soft for me to hear.  She delicately puts her tongue on the bottom part of my panties and brings it up, very slowly, hugging the shape of my sex.  It startles me and it’s with great difficulty that I manage to stay still.  It feels like a bolt of electric current going through my stomach.

“That too, you’ll get used to it…” she says enigmatically, standing up and looking at me with her adorable and small green eyes framed by freckles.  She is really beautiful.  Her lips part slightly and, with a small chuckle of pleasure, she hits my nose lightly with her tongue.

“You smell it?”

Stunned, I don’t know what to say.  She walks around the table.

“Lie down on your back.”

She drops a small knob of balm on each of my nipples and on my belly button.  The coolness of the product makes me shiver.  The caresses from her hands are delicious.  The product spreads out easily and her fingers slide on my breasts, stretch my nipples and move over my belly in an exquisite caress.

Little by little, my pleasure starts to rise again when she abruptly stops to go wash her hands.

“Now, you have to go take a shower.”

She hands me a collar made of leather with several rings on it and orders me to fasten it around my neck.

This is too much and I get offended: “But this is a dog collar!!!”

Her worried look makes me realize that I just did something stupid.  She looks at one corner of the ceiling with apprehension.  I catch a glimpse of a small camera.

“Shut up, you idiot, you want her to spank us both?”  Her face shows real anxiety.  “I told you to speak only when I ask you to…”  Swiftly, she grabs a chain well over a meter long and fastens it to the collar which she then puts, with authority, around my neck.  Then she holds my wrists together behind my back and locks them in place using the rings on them.

“Follow me,” she tells me in a tone that does not allow for contradiction of any kind.

She grabs the leash and drags me by the neck behind her.  The infirmary borders a long corridor which we follow for a long while.  This girl is really a “reduced model”.  I am not that tall but even with her high-heel shoes on, she is still shorter than me.

Walking confidently, she leads me into a room resembling a common shower room like the one I remember from my high school.  It is entirely covered by the same white tiling as the “infirmary”.  Three shower heads hang from the wall and the ground, gently slopping, has several drains.  In a corner, a toilet bowl sits unceremoniously.  With one rapid move, she unties me.

“Ok, get undressed, hand me your panties and make it snappy.”

She raises her hand and points a finger towards a corner of the ceiling where I can spot another camera.  Sacred at the thought of making another blunder, I obey.

She points to a shower head.  “Go stand there” she says putting her hand out to take my panties and slip them in her apron.  Then she hangs my wrists to a hook located above the shower head.

The water has a wonderful effect on my skin.  It is deliciously hot and I relax to enjoy the moment to the fullest.

“About the collar, if madame ever heard you, she will give us hell.  Look!”

She undoes the hooks on her corsage and lowers it from her shoulders, revealing a flat belly and smallish breasts stripped with purple marks, some of which are still swollen.

“Two days ago she chastised me.”  She turns around and shows me her back, which is in an even sorriest state.  “And I won’t show you the rest…  If she ever beats me up again like that, I’ll have to stay in bed for at least a week.  Get it?”

Jaws agape, I fall back into the nightmare.  Such cruelty…  I can almost feel her burns.  My stomach turns.  I am on the verge of throwing up.

“Turn around so that I can lather you up with soap,” she orders me as she readjusts herself.

Little by little, the contact from her hands revives my excitement.  “The front now.”  She lathers me up head to toe.  Thank God her hands are soft.  “Spread your legs.”  All modesty now gone, I let her work on my private body parts.  God does it feel good.  The soap makes the contact from her fingers very pleasant.

“Aren’t you a hairy one.  We’ll have to shave all that off.”  She examines me, handles me as if I was a mere object of pleasure.  This troubling sensation sharpens my pleasure.  She toys a moment with my nipples.  She stretches them between her thumb and forefinger, twisting them delicately before suddenly letting them go to untie me.

“Ok, now the enema…  Watch out, it’s in your best interest to just let me do it.  If we take too long…”  The rest of the threat remains unsaid.

An enema?  I thought they had relegated this barbaric procedure to the lower levels of obscurantism over a century ago.

“Do you want to go to the bathroom first?” she asks me as she locks my wrists behind by back again.

It has been I don’t know how many hours since I could relief myself.  To add to this humiliation, still naked, I must now sit on a toilet, hands tied behind my back, before this girl, without any walls to preserve my modesty.  These events, each one crazier than the next, took place with so much speed that this demeaning position doesn’t shock me as much as I would have guessed.  The idea of an enema worries me.  A lot of questions burn my mind but out of fear of sanctions, I dare not ask them.

This degrading posture makes me tighten up and I have a tough time letting go.  After what feels like an eternity, a burning sensation fills my cheeks as my bowels loudly produce the shameful sound they make when they free themselves of their load.  With thighs fully pumped up, sick with shame, I empty myself, my eyes solely focused on the ground before me.  Finally relieved, I dare not getting up, stupidly waiting while sitting on the bowl.

In the meantime, she prepares her instruments.

“You done?”

Red as a pepper, I shake my head yes.  She motions me to get up.  I do so, quickly flushing the toilet at the same time.

“On your knees,” she orders me.  “Lean forward and spread your legs as far apart as you can.”

Mortified, I obey, having a really hard time doing it.

“Put your shoulders on the ground.”

I bow low, facing the toilet bowl.  The contact with the cold and humid tile floor cools me down a little.

She moves behind me.  Her finger slides along the most intimate part of me to part the flesh.  “Spread your cheeks with your hands.”  It feels like I’m dreaming awake.  The uncomfortable position has made my nipples touch the ground.  I feel them rubbing against the floor while she cleans me meticulously with a damp cloth.  Suddenly her finger presses against the middle of my anus.  “Relax and spread them out more.”  The intruder tickles my little flower for a long time.  “Me, I love it when someone does it to me.”  She toys around for a few moments with the tip of her nail before penetrating me slowly.  Involuntarily, my intimate muscles tense up.  “Didn’t you hear me?  You have to relax if you don’t want me to hurt you.”  Surprisingly, the dreaded pain expected does not materialize.  I do my best to make her job easier.  After a few times around, her whole finger finally penetrates me.  She does a few in-and-outs before pulling out, creating a sense of emptiness that frustrates me.  Once again, my body betrays me.  It leads me to believe that in the end, all these humiliations contribute to my pleasure.

“Now, the tube.  Don’t worry, it’s a small one.  Stay calm.”

At the same time, the thing penetrates my anus.  She must have lubricated me because I do not feel any resistance.  Just an impression I need to empty myself out again…  Then the liquid invades me…  I tense up.  The lack of difference in temperature with my body makes the procedure only less sensitive.  Only a bizarre sensation in my stomach, the feeling that I ate too large a meal.  I can feel the skin of my belly stretch out.  For an eternity, the ordeal goes on.

“There, it’s done,” she says pulling out the tube.  “Go quickly to the toilet and push to get everything out.  Don’t hold back, otherwise you will have cramps.”  She helps me get up and guides me to the bowl.

Obviously, john abraham wallpapers in force 2018 she knows what she is talking about.  I barely have time to sit on the seat, the urge to flush out the liquid is so pressing.  I shamefully let go, much to my relief.  The horribly obscene noise makes me turn red in the face again.

She repeats the procedure twice before cleaning me up for good.

“There, you’re as clean as a ‘shiny new penny’” she tells me laughing while she puts away her equipment.  “I just have to make you look pretty and we can go join Madame.”  Happy to have survived the challenge, I obediently follow her to the infirmary.

At no time did the memories from my “past life” come to haunt me.  A side of my personality that I did not know existed before has just been revealed to me.

She makes me wait and takes out a gynecologist chair and a small stool set on wheels from a large closet.  I settle in the gynecologist chair with some apprehension while she prepares her equipment.  This time, the small cart holds things that would make any beauty salon proud: Makeup, hair and manicure products, a bowl filled with shaving mousse and an old-fashion razor, the kind with a long blade and handle with a bend in the middle to fold it after use.  Clothes and shoes are carefully folded and lined up on a shelf on the lower part of the cart.

Absent-mindedly, I put up my feet in the stirrups.  She places the small cushioned stool between my legs and sits down, her face flush with my sex.

“For starters, let’s shave all those pubes.  If Madame finds even one, I’ll pay for it…”  With the help of scissors, she clears out most of my bush, leaving only a mesh of short pubic hair.  Then she moistens my pubic area and covers it with the shaving mousse.  In answer to my worried look, she replies: “Oh I’m used to it, you know.  I’m the one who takes care of Madame’s body.”  Her eyes shine with a strange sparkle that betrays more than just pride.  Visibly, this lewd little maid is madly in love with her mistress.  Reluctantly, I must admit that I also find that severe woman very attractive.  She displays a charm and charisma almost addictive.

Lisette knows what to do.  With a fluid motion, she spreads out the mousse with precision, lightly brushing my pubic area.  Small and delectable shivers run through my lower abdomen.

“You’ll see, it’s a totally cool feeling.  At first, it tickles a little but we get used to it very quickly.”  Her movements remind me of the ones from the esthetician my mother took me to see last year to have my armpits and my bikini line waxed before going on vacation.  Except that it is not wax she is using.

The razor stings a little when it gets caught in rougher patches of hair before slicing them away.  I cannot help but start.

“Make sure you don’t move, you’ll risk getting cut from me.”

The idea of being maimed there paralyzes me.  I have no problem staying still like a statue, giving her ample opportunity to finish her job well.  Next, she makes me move my pelvis forward and spread my ass cheeks by bringing my knees up to my chest.  The indecency of this position gives me the impression that the heat in this room just went up a notch.  My cheeks burn my face and I keep my eyes stubbornly fixed on the ceiling.  A few swings of the razor quickly take care of the few hairs I have around my anus.  A small mischievous lap of the tongue on my ass cheeks completes the task.

“There, it’s done,” she says sliding a finger across my most intimate part.  “Wow, how about that, you’re totally wet.”  To add to the shame, she shakes her wet forefinger in front of my eyes.  “It shows you like that, you little sex maniac,” she says, touching it several times with her thumb, making fun of the sticky lines stretching between her fingers.

I don’t know where to hide.  This humiliating situation excites me.  What decadence…  With a little sly smile, she slides the finger between her lips and sucks on it at length, looking at me right in the eyes.  The temperature becomes unbearable.

She rinses me off with a damp cloth then repeats the task with my armpits.  Next, she covers me with a perfumed cream which she spreads softly over the newly bared part of my body.  “You’re now as naked as the day you were born,” she says with that little smile I find so troubling.  Her fingers work wonders between my legs to make the cream penetrate.  Finally, she powders me with talc.  “It will reduce the burning sensation from the razor.  You’ll always have to be bare as far as that’s concerned.  After I met Madame, I had the misfortune of forgetting a few hairs once.  She tied me to that chair and plucked them out one by one with tweezers.  I swear to you I paid for it.  After that, I never wanted to go through this again,” she says, her eyes unfocused, as if that memory had made her nostalgic.

A small irritation burns my crotch, bringing an itching sensation rather pleasant that takes my excitement to a new level.  Decidedly, this little maid makes me go from one surprise to the next.  It is in a relaxed and confident state that I abandon myself to her care.  She combs my hair, manicures my feet and my hands before meticulously applying makeup on me.

“That’s it,” she tells me putting the last touch of blush on my cheeks.  “Wait till you see yourself in the mirror.  You can tell me what you think.”  Her radiant smile enhances the enchanting freckles that frame her fresh young face.  She puts my hair in two very tight braids that pull a little on my scalp.  My lips and my nipples are tinted with a very clear red lipstick.  “You look delicious.  Madame will be happy,” she says, walking towards a sink to wash her hands.

God this girl is pretty.  Her short black skirt, covered by her small white apron, prominently displays her legs sheathed in black silk, admirably shaped and raised by black stilettos with spiked heels which slim down her silhouette.  The white hat sitting on top of her head gives her a naughty look that makes her even more beautiful.

“Ok, now let’s dress you,” she says looking at her watch with a worried look.  “We have to hurry, we have only a few minutes left.”

Her comment brings me back to earth.  “What time is it?  And what day is it?”

“Hush, Sandrine.  Watch it.  You must only talk when you’re asked.”  Then, leaning in my ear, she adds whispering “It will be noon soon, Madame wants us there at half past.  Let’s hurry.”

My brain does the math.  Noon… It has therefore been almost 24 hours since I have been held captive here.  I now acknowledge the hunger that torments me.  As discreetly as possible, I whisper “may I have a glass of water please?”

Without answering, she unties my wrists, grabs from the fridge a bottle with no label and pours me a tall glass.  “Drink, it will do you good.”  I am thirsty, my throat is dry.  I quench my thirst with great delight.

“Ok, the clothes now.  Pull your right leg straight.”  She has picked up a pair of black stockings and begins putting them on me.  The soft contact of the fabric makes me shiver as it slides on my skin.  She proceeds meticulously and makes the nylon smooth with her hands to position it.  “The stitch must be right down the middle and very straight,” she says, handing me the second stocking.

The stilettos are the same as hers, although the heels are not as high.  They are brand new and the smell of patent-leather that comes from them is rather enjoyable.  I notice in amazement that they fit me perfectly.

“We have the same size,” the little maid tells me.  “Madame thinks that my feet are great.  I bet she’ll love yours.

She ties a garter belt around my waist and makes me stand to stretch everything out.  “Make sure there are no dents, there’s nothing uglier.”

It is the first time that I wear this type of undergarment.  A very powerful sensation of femininity overtakes me.  It is as if these clothes framed my bare sex to better put the emphasis on it.  I feel beautiful and desirable.  Secretly, the hope to please Lisette’s boss crosses my mind.

She makes me put on a white bodice identical to the one she has on and, much to my surprise, ties up the laces behind my back with the help of a rubber band of the same color as my lipstick.  No button is buttoned up and my small bare chest seems to pop out from the piece of clothing, freely offered.

“Perfect!  You’re perfect!” She says taking a step back to admire me.  “Will you be able to walk without falling flat on your face?” She asks, suddenly worried.

The compliment goes straight to my heart.  I feel beautiful…  Desirable.  I proudly tell her “I think it will be alright.”  I have been to clubs with heels like that and I do not doubt my ability to move about dressed like this.  Curiously, the indecency of my attire does not shock me.

She crouches at my feet and ties a small chain of about 30 centimeters at the most to my ankle bracelets.  “You’ll have to take small steps if you don’t want to fall.”

Then picking up the handle of the leash, she asks me to open my mouth wide and takes out my soiled panties from the small pocket of her apron.  “I can imagine you won’t like this but…”  She shoves them between my lips with authority.  The revulsion is more than I can bear; I take a sudden step back, almost falling when the chain holding my ankles gets taut.

She pulls sharply on the leash to bring me back closer to her.  “Watch it, don’t force me to punish you,” she says, placing the underwear in front of my mouth again.

At the edge of disgust, I comply.  My submission scares me.  “It’s good Sandrine, Madame will be happy.  Make sure that not matter what happens, you keep it in your mouth until she allows you to take it out.”  This time, I must endure not only the smell but also the salty and bitter taste of my urine.

She spends a few moment putting my panties in place, making sure that the tiniest part of them can be seen escaping my lips.  The humiliation makes the contradictory sentiments I feel in the deepest recess of my being worse.  “The touchy part will be to not stain them with your lipstick.”  The touchy part, that’s easy for her to say…  It is clear she is not the one who has to submit to this humiliation… Although…  She would probably love it.

The memory of the scars on her body makes me shiver.  She locks my wrists behind my back and, without letting go of the leash, takes a few steps back to stare at me.  Her eyes look up and down at me from head to toe as she admires her work with delight.

“I envy you,” she tells me.  “You have a splendid body.”  A tiny flame of jealousy shows up in her eyes as she looks at me.  “Madame will adore you,” she adds with a hint of regret in her voice.

“Let’s go.”  She turns on her heels and pulls me down the corridor.  My walk is tenuous.  I have to make sure I take very small steps, or else the small chain at my feet will make me lose my balance.  The sound of our heels accompanied by the clicking of metal ring out in my ears.

Soon we pass by the shower room and slowly continue our progress along the endless corridor.  A series of closed doors on either side of it makes me think of a hotel.  When finally we reach the end, the difference in temperature gives me goose bumps.  A glass double door that seems to act as an airlock opens automatically as we go on our way.

We are in an octagonal hall, roughly six meter wide with an impressively high ceiling.  The walls entirely covered with mirrors give the room a remarkable illusion of vastness.

Lisette stops and looks at me through a mirror.  “So what do you think of my work?”  Looking dazed, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror.  I already know to what degree the heels slim down my figure but it’s mostly my face that stunts me.  This girl has talents that would make the best estheticians proud.  Speechless, I move up to admire her work of art.

The pony tails make me look a few years younger and my hairless pubic area reminds me of my early teenage years.  I look like a little girl that grew too quickly into adolescence.  The discreet makeup enhances the blue of my eyes which contrast like never before with my jet black hair.  Never have I found myself so desirable.

For an instant, I think about this television show that I watch from time to time and in which people get a “makeover”.  The effect is striking.  I understand better now the surprise they can feel when they see their new appearance.  My pony tails remind me of the heroine of a television series of which I forget the name.

The coolness of the room make my nipples hurt, they are so stretched out.  Or is it some excitement because, at the same time, a sneaky warmth grows between my legs.

With the help of all the mirrors, I can survey my small and round buttocks, enhanced by the black stockings.  The leather collar around my neck, my small breasts with the nipples pointing up, the bounds that hold my ankles and my arms tied behind my back all give me a very perverse look.

For a moment, my eyes catch those of the little maid who looks at me with lust in her eyes.  Only one thing wrong with this picture, my mouth is slightly misshapen by the panties sticking out a little between my lips without affecting my beauty whatsoever.

“Ok, that’s all nice and well…”  With a slap on my butt, she puts an end to my daydreaming.  “We can’t make Madame wait.”

And we resume our walk ahead and go through another glass door, located across the previous one, also automatically operated.  A new corridor entirely covered with wall-to-wall carpet opens before us.

The residence is really huge.  Expensive paintings all showing women in the nude, created by some of the greatest painters, decorate the walls, also richly covered with carpeting.  Little by little, I get used to the new temperature.  On the right, a brightness, almost blinding, illuminates the corridor.  It is a vast reception hall dozens of square meters big, completely bordered by large bay windows overlooking a landscaped park.  In the middle of the room, I catch sight of a gigantic table, long enough to welcome dozens of guests.  Lisette’s boss must be a billionaire.

Little by little, I get used to my bounds, my walk has become more assured and I no longer fear falling down.  Patiently, Lisette helps me forward until we reach the end of the T-shaped corridor.  We turn right.

“Remember, only speak when questioned,” Lisette tells me.  “When we are in front of her, wait on your knees, eyes to the ground.  Watch out you don’t do anything to upset her.”

A few meters further, she quietly opens a door to the left and helps me enter in a new room nearly as vast as the previous one.  It looks like a salon or a big office.  It is furnished with great taste.  To our right, four leather sofas at an angle make up a corner in the middle of which a pole goes up all the way to the ceiling.  A pair of leather cuffs hangs from it, held by chains secured higher up.  While on the left, a desk equipped with several computer screens regally sits.  In front of the desk, several armchairs are spread out, as if they are expecting to receive clients.

“Here you are at last!”  I jump.  “We almost had to wait for you.”  A red haired lady, with very short hair, gets up while calling out to us.  Her attire, of the same leather as the sofa, prevented me from noticing her when I got here.  “Madame is waiting for you by the pool, hurry up a little, you slow pokes.”

Confused by this welcome, I look at Lisette for guidance.  She has lowered her eyes and has stiffened at the verbal assault.  The bay windows are wide open and a light draft gives me goose bumps in spite of the summer temperature.

Lisette pulls harshly on my leash and draws me outside.  Surprised by her gesture, I trip before regaining my balance with great difficulty.

“Lisette!”  We both stop moving.  “Nice work.”

“Thank you Christelle.  I am happy it pleases you.”  Without waiting for a reply, she pulls on my leash again and goes out on the terrace.  After leading me a little further to the right, out of sight of this woman, she whispers in my ear: “That’s Christelle.  That’s Madame’s driver and sometimes…”  Her voice is so low that I have to lean forward to understand what she is saying.  “Sometimes, she’s the one handing out the punishment…  Beware of her, she can be a real bitch.  She’s completely nuts.  Once, she tortured me with a lighter.  It was horrible, I had blisters for days.  You’ll have to show her respect.  Call her by her first name and never look at her in the eye…”  The warning makes me shiver.  We resume our walk.

The terrace leads to a grassy yard, perfectly mowed and entirely bordered by tall trees, hiding it from prying eyes.  We walk along the house to take advantage of its shadow.  The heat from the sun is torrid and Lisette has stepped up the pace a little.  I struggle to keep up with her when we leave the solid surface of the terrace to cross the lawn and aim for a corner of the house.

Finally, we reach a new wing of the main structure, another shaded terrace overlooking a magnificent Olympic-size pool.  I can make out three women lying down on the water’s edge.  Madame is lying flat on her stomach, completely naked.  Her body, astonishingly young with perfect curves, lies still, casually at the mercy of the caresses from the sun’s rays.  Two young women, one brunette, the other blond, are kneeling at the foot of her long chair, also naked.  Theirs eyes are blindfolded and each one is busy on one of her feet.

I do not understand right away what they are doing exactly but suddenly…  My legs grow weak.  For a moment, I have the feeling they’ll give out on me.  The blood is draining from my face and I must do everything in my power not to collapse to the ground.  These two young women are none other than my two friends: Syl and Ghis…  They have their hands tied behind their backs and both are copiously, or I should say lovingly, licking the feet of Madame.

A small sound escapes from my mouth through the gag, quickly stifled by a harsh tug on my leash.

The little maid pulls the chain down towards the ground to remind me of my instructions.  I kneel humbly while she lets go of me to get closer to her boss and whisper a few words in her ear.

The blonde lady does not even move.  She seems to listen to the words of her servant without paying attention to them.  Her report now completed, the aforementioned servant straightens up and moves to kneel on the other side of her Mistress, facing me.  She has crossed her arms behind her back and looks down at the ground, a few centimeters in front of her knees.  We wait for the good will of Madame in a religious silence interrupted by the chirping of the birds and the suction noises produced by my two buddies.  This woman truly has a splendid body.  Not an ounce of fat or trace of any loose skin can betray her age.  Her muscular and round buttocks are fully and evenly tanned.  She remains motionless, seemingly enjoying with delight the homage that Sylvie and Ghislaine pay to her feet so graciously offered.

We have to wait patiently this way for at least half an hour.  The heat from the sun is difficult to bear.  Beads of sweat trickle down my forehead and between my breasts and there is nothing I can do to stop it.  My saliva, which a while back abundantly soaked my soiled panties, has now become a rare commodity in my mouth.  A terrible thirst tortures me.  After what seemed an eternity, Madame finally turns around, interrupting my two buddies.  She looks at the time from a small alarm clock placed on the table beside her.

“It’s ok Lisette, you’re early.  I hope you didn’t botch your task.”  Her cold tone of voice implies a veiled threat.  “Go fetch me refreshment please,” she says pointing to her empty glass.

“Very well Madame.”

“So what do we have here?”

I haven’t forgotten my instructions.  I stare at the slabs of the terrace a few centimeters in front of me.  That doesn’t prevent me from noticing the movements she makes to scrutinize me.  “Keep going, girls, it was very pleasant.”  I feel her eyes survey me from head to toe like a horse trader would with a new animal.  My two buddies don’t have to be told a second time.  They eagerly resume their humiliating task with unabated pleasure.

My mind is racing at full speed.  How is it possible that the girls ended up in this situation?  Are they here against their will?  Are they partner in crime with this woman?

Next: The harem of Madame

Chapter 3 : The harem of Madame
“Come closer a little young girl…  So that I can see what my new toy looks like.”  Her icy and imperative tone leaves no room for contradiction.  Moving a little brings me relief because this uncomfortable position was beginning to give my legs pins and needles.  Confident in my new look, I move towards her, on my knees, carefully avoiding looking at her.  The proximity of Sylvie and Ghislaine reassures me a little, even though their blindfolded eyes prevent them from knowing about my presence here.  They do not seem to have been mistreated, far from it, considering the pleasure they take in degrading themselves this way.
“What do you have in your mouth my pretty one?”  Here we go…  I feel my cheeks turning red.  She is sitting right in front of me.  “Come closer, don’t be shy.  Kneel between my legs.”  As soon as I get within reach, she grabs the underwear and pulls it out of my mouth holding it contemptuously between her thumb and index finger.  “It looks like a pair of panties.”  The words ring in my ears.  “What an odd smell.”  She brings them up to her nose.  “Yuk!  They stink of urine.”  Every remark feels like a slap in the face.  I can see her disgusted pout.  She carelessly forces them back between my lips after rubbing them on my nose.
Lisette returns.  She is carrying a tray of refreshments from which comes the joyous clicking of ice cubes.  I raise my eyes to her.  Elegantly, she puts the tray down on the small table and pours a glass of soda to her boss.  Then she goes back to kneel at the same spot as before.  In spite of my completely parched throat, my mouth waters up with envy.  I feel miserable, kneeling there, with those infamous panties in my mouth.  I catch myself hoping for a little leniency from this woman so hateful and so fascinating at the same time.
My tormentor turns to me.  I lower my eyes.  “Look at me in the eyes, Sandrine.”  I obey.  She stares down at me with a hypnotic look I have a tough time resisting.  “I see that you have learned your lesson well.  It is worthy of a reward.”  She focuses on me with a tiny smile of contentment.  Her face finely chiseled, her perfect breasts, not too big, not too small, which stand proudly without sagging on her chest contrast with mine which I find so small.  Her large blue eyes perfectly made up put me ill at ease.  I look away to focus on the glass she holds in her hand.
“Yes Madame.”
“Pour a soda for our friend please.”
“Very well Madame.”
I cannot believe my ears.  My thirst becomes even more pressing.
“Nice work girl, she is ravishing.”
“Thank you Madame.”
The blond woman gets up and walks around my nude form.  “Truly ravishing.  I could take a bite out of her.  Stand up, Sandrine.”  The same tone, imperative.  Torn between the pleasure I get from her compliments and apprehension, I get up as best I can.  Using a fingertip, she wipes a drop of sweat trickling along my neck.  Distractively, she brushes against my chest going around me again.  She strokes my ass cheeks.  A clicking noise, some shaking on the shackles holding me and my hands are free.  My spirits rise in a flash.  “Hands behind your head, young girl.”  Disappointed, I do as ordered.  Another clicking sound and my hands are tied to my collar.  Her breath tickles the back of my neck.  She grabs my breasts and caresses them softly, lingering on my nipples, playfully pulling them and pinching them with her thumbs and forefingers.  Stronger than pain, a wave of pleasure radiates from my chest down to my lower abdomen.  She stands before me again and teases my nipples using the tips of her nails, looking at me right in the eye.  I cannot sustain her stare.  Barefooted, she stands a good five centimeters above me.
“Still waiting Lisette!” she says without looking away from me.
“There you go Madame,” answers the little maid, handing her a tall glass of soda filled with ice cubes.
Without a thank you, the blond picks up the glass and puts it under my nose.  “This must taste better than you panties, don’t you think?”  I nod in agreement, getting ready to spit out the piece of fabric but holding her finger up as if reading my thoughts, she stops me from doing so.  “I will tell you when you can get rid of it.”  And she pushes the underwear a little deeper in my mouth.  Tormented, I watch her bring the glass close to my chest.  A bit of condensation has formed on the edge of it and I flinch when the icy humidity makes contact with my nipples.  It feels to me as if they have grown some more.
“Spread your legs.”  I obey as best I can, dealing with the chain restraining my ankles.  The glass slides along my stomach, ever lower.  The sensation, unpleasant at first, refreshes me.  Shiver after shiver run through my body from head to toe.  Suddenly, a surge of heat fills my stomach.  Her free hand has quickly moved past the glass and has sneaked between my legs.  An inquisiting forefinger worms its way between the lips of my sex and has taken residence in the most intimate part of me.  An electric pulse goes through my clitoris.  She explores for a few moments the entrance of my vagina before moving up to my small organ now becoming hypersensitive.  A new tremor paralyzes my muscles.  “Lisette, untie her ankles and put a blindfold over her eyes.”  The maid quickly gets busy.  “Depraved little one,” she tells me studying her shiny fingers.  “You’re gushing like a fountain.”  Her mocking smile does nothing to temper my desire.
“Spread your legs better than that.”
The removal of her finger has created in me an immense feeling of frustration.  My brain doesn’t belong to me anymore now that desire has tapped my loins.  Eagerly, I spread my feet apart in order to give her the best possible access to my most intimate parts.  “Lean your head backwards, you naughty little one.”  Like a junkie, I offer myself totally, elbows pulled back as far as they can go, hips trusted forward, legs spread wide.  A handkerchief appears almost magically in my line of sight and obstructs my view.  Nothing matters anymore.  Only a burning desire as hot as lava obsesses me.
A burning sensation on my lips makes me startle.  I realize that she is using an ice cube to caress me.  With a sharp move, she yanks out the panties from between my teeth and replaces them with the glass from which she pours the content very slowly in my mouth.  I drink greedily till the last drop.  The ice cube slides along my neck, reaches my chest where it settles, going from one nipple to the other.  The initial burning sensation turns into a pleasure.  The world around me ceases to exist.  I only live now for this strange caress that puts me in this state.  Every nerve in my body is on edge.  Like a volcano about to erupt, a tremendous wave of pleasure grows from deep within me.
All of a sudden, a pair of hot lips lands on mine.  Exquisite sensation.  Shivers and surges of heat alternate at a hellish pace.  At the same moment, the palm of her hand covers my pubic area, trapping the ice cube against my clitoris…  It’s too much…  My legs start to shake and my body gives out on me.  I am submerged by the ravaging orgasm that bursts inside of me.  Her tongue blends with mine, stifling the groans of pleasure that my throat cannot contain anymore.  The notion of time disappears, replaced by an irresistible need to enjoy every fraction of a second.  The ice cube penetrates the entrance of my vagina.  A torrent heats the blood in my veins, apparently never ending.  The bite of her nails on one of my nipples unleashes a new gust of pleasure that overtakes me.
I must have lost it there for a few moments because when I return to reality, I am lying down on Madame’s deckchair.  Never before, during my long masturbations sessions alone, have I experienced an orgasm so devastating, so complete.  My wrists are still tied behind my head.  My legs feel like molasses.  The slightest motion makes me tremble all over.  I drift into this state of mind that follows pleasure.  The silk piece of fabric that hides the view exacerbates my feelings.  The caress from the sun progressively relaxes me.  An inescapable reality hits me: My life has just taken a turn.  Nothing will ever be the same as before…
Heels clicking end my daydreaming.  “You must be hungry.  Madame is waiting for you in her office,” whispers Lisette.  She removes my blindfold and, with a very feminine gentleness, helps me up.  She has wrapped her arm around my waist to hold me.  Unable to walk straight, I move forward like a beat up boxer.  The sun hurts my eyes.  Viewed from the pool, the house looks gigantic.  In front of us, a bay window twice as big as the one from which we came out, also entirely wide open, seems to invite us inside.
The brightness from outside prevents me from making out the room into which we have entered. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to get used to the difference in light.
I see myself as a slave from the Antiquity about to be offered to a cruel queen.  A reaction almost undetectable takes shape between my legs.  As if to make me believe that humiliation increases my desire.  I start to seriously have doubts about my mental state.
To the far right of the very wide room, Madame sits as if on a throne atop a platform.  She is sprawled on a small red leather sofa with a backrest made to look like the shape of a mouth.  Exactly the kind of seat one would expect to see at the Crazy Horse Saloon.  To her right, a plasma screen, embedded into the wall, seems to hold her attention.  Behind her, Christelle and a woman of Asian origin are assessing me carefully.  We move forward.  Two marble columns rise from the center of the room, a few meters from the platform.  Each is equipped with leather bracelets.
“Ah, here’s our little sex maniac,” shouts the blonde woman to no-one in particular, using a sarcastic tone.  Her eyes haven’t left the TV set.  I turn red.  The tips of my breasts become erect.  The stranger, who has fine features, is wearing a white blouse and a stethoscope is hanging around her neck.  The sofa prevents me from seeing her entirely but her cleavage, very low cut, shows most of her breasts.  Her eyes study my body without any shame.  My nudity seems to captivate her.
Madame is wearing a superb green-bottle colored leather dress, very short, that shows her long legs, covered with black stockings.  On her feet are red stilettos with spike heels that match the sofa.  Her legs crossed, she has in her hand a cigarette holder at the end of which a cigarette is burning itself out.  Her proud demeanor gives her an astounding look of beauty.
“Make her sit next to me,” she orders the little maid, talking about me as if I was a thing.
Obediently, the maid pushes me towards her boss and helps me sit next to her.  Dumbstruck and not believing my eyes, I see that the screen is showing a video in which I have the title role.  Suddenly, the surge of heat I was feeling just now disappears.  My blood freezes in my veins.  The scene that just took place by the pool, recorded with plenty of zooms on my face and my body, clearly shows the fantastic pleasure I felt while being humiliated and abused.  The blood drains from my face and my limbs start shaking uncontrollably.  On the screen, Madame displays the ice cube she used to caress my breasts and holds it again for the camera with a malicious smile before slapping it to my sex.  The groans of pleasure I make as I push my hips forward to meet her hand demonstrate undeniably that I am totally consenting.
“You have enormous potential, my darling,” says the blond woman as she puts her hand on my thigh.  “You look incredibly natural.”  The world around me crumbles.  The room begins to spin.  I’m gasping for air.  My vision turns blurry.  Everything goes black.
A very bitter and unbearable smell makes me regain consciousness.  I am sprawled on the red sofa, my feet raised up in the air.  Someone has removed all my bonds, leaving me only with the leather collar circling my neck.  The face of the Asian woman fills my line of sight.  Her large black eyes are fixed on me with a worried look.  She puts away the box she had under my nose and talks to me with a calm voice.  “Don’t worry, I am a doctor.  You fainted for a moment.  Probably because you haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday.  That stupid Lisette was supposed to make you eat before taking you out in the sun.”  Her voice hardens when she speaks of the little maid.  “That little idiot has no more common sense than a turkey.”  The softness with which she caresses my face contrasts with her harsh tone of voice.  “I gave you an injection that should put you back on your feet in a few minutes.”  Her lips land on mine.  “You are truly very pretty.  Irene has a lot of luck.”  Her face is very gracious and her words comfort me a little.  I would be amiss to guess her age.  “And you went through a lot of emotions today.”
“Where am I?”  My voice sounds like a croak my throat is so dry.  She hands me a glass, smiling tenderly.  “You have the honor of being housed by the duchess Irene de Villemonble.”  I greedily gulp down the sweet liquid that leaves me with a bit of a sour aftertaste.  “Do not forget that for you, she is called Madame.  It’s a piece of advice you should heed.”
Little by little, my strength returns.  “Why is she keeping me prisoner here?”
“That, little girl, is not my place to say.  One thing is sure, you are not a prisoner, even if the appearances may make you believe otherwise.  Madame de Villemonble will explain that to you later.”  She places her stethoscope between my breasts.  “Take a deep breath.”  My breathing is wheezy.  “Relax, pretty one.”  She takes my pulse.  “Good, you look in better shape.  Open your mouth please.”  Using a tongue depressor, she looks at my throat.  “Perfect.  Sit up now.”
She kneels between my opened knees and puts on a rubber glove.  “Put your feet on the edge of the sofa and spread your legs open.”  I can feel the temperature of my face go up a notch.  Expertly, her hand spreads open the lips of my sex.  I jump, her finger just landed on the entrance of my vagina.  “Just relax, this won’t hurt a bit.”  For a moment, she explores deliciously the inside of my sex.  “Little sex maniac, you are mighty sensitive.”  She dunks her index finger in a small jar.  “Spread your ass cheeks please.”  Without saying a word, I do as told.  Her finger is shining from its gooey coating.  She presses it against my anus.  A reflex makes me contract my intimate muscles.  “Push,” she says, making it penetrate progressively inside me.  For the second time in my life, my sphincter must give way to an inquisitive finger.  More than disturbing, the rape of this forbidden place, a belief solidly anchored in my subconscious, gives me an excitingly strange sensation that leaves me baffled.  I watch her without missing a detail of the ministrations that she imposes on me.  A revealing moisture is showing up between the open lips of my sex.  “It turns you on, you little slut.”  She leans towards my crotch and her tongue leaves a wet trace the entire length of my sex.  “You taste good.”
I can’t believe it.  These women make me go through the worst kind of humiliations and I derive pleasure from them.  If I could have imagined, a few days ago, what I was about to become, I would have ran away to save myself.  “There, it’s over,” she tells me without any more explanation.  “Stand up now.  If Madame finds you on her sofa, it’s going to make her angry.  That poor Lisette is in a bad enough position, no need to add to it.”  She takes my head in her hands and pulls me to her to kiss me with a mouthful.  Her tongue caresses mine for a long time before she lets me go, panting with desire.  “Ok, hurry up, they won’t be long now.”  She ends her sentence with a small slap on my ass cheeks.
“Can I go to the bathroom please?  I need to go pee.”
“Not at the moment, my pretty one.  Only Irene can authorize you to go.  Wait here quietly.”  And she leaves me, alone in the middle of the huge room.
Her tone of voice leaves me no room to appeal so I must suffer in silence.  A tingling sensation tickles my legs as the blood starts to flow through them more and more.  My eyes dart aimlessly about while my thoughts begin to wander.  I dreamily gaze at the two columns, nearly two meters apart from one another, imagining myself tied up to them, naked, spread, offered.  The room is huge and decorated with great taste.  The richness of the place betrays the luxury in which my hostess lives.  The paintings gracing the walls only show women, some of them immortalized in suggestive positions.  Among them, a portrait of great beauty fascinates me.  A young woman with a gag in her mouth seems to look at me with eyes radiating with endless happiness.  On another one, two very young girls, scantly dressed, are barely kissing each other on the lips.  They are lightly veiled by an artistic haze reminiscent of a David Hamilton photo.  At the far end of the room, much like a queen, on a life-size painting, a portrait of Madame fills most of the wall.  Hands on her hips, legs spread apart, a black cap on her head; she is dressed in an outfit consisting of matching leather pants and jacket, very tight fitting, of longs gloves made of the same material and of a pair of shiny leather boots with very high heels.  From her high position, her arrogant expression, so severe that it makes me shiver, embraces the entire room, as if she was monitoring me.  The spotlights pointing at the painting almost make her look alive.  The marble floor is covered with a splendid red carpet, made of exotic wool and of seemingly endless length that crosses the room and stretches from the platform all the way to the painting, going between the two white marble pillars.  In the middle, a second identical carpet crosses path with the first one and covers the area from the bay window to the main entrance.  If I can rely on my bearings, that door must lead to the corridor we took a while back.  Lost in thought, I imagine the painting coming to life and the duchess moving towards me, walking with distinction along the long red carpet.
A slapping sound followed by the muffled cry startle me.  “Move faster than that you slow poke!”  Madame has just entered the room, followed by Lisette.  My mind starts spinning.  She is wearing the exact same outfit as the one I was admiring on the painting earlier.  As if she has just stepped out from the frame itself.
I then notice, on one side of the painting and leading to the center of the carpet, a double door that the room design makes almost invisible as it merges with the wall around it.  The little maid does not have her black dress on anymore and the only thing left from her servant’s outfit is her white headgear and apron which contrasts with her black garter and stockings.  She is moving on her knees, her arms tied behind her back, and she is progressing slowly on the carpet.  Tears shine on her cheeks.  A curious interlacing of leather straps outlines her torso from her chest to her waist.  Armed with a whip, Madame is moving forward decidedly, pulling on a leash tied to a leather collar identical to the one I have.  In spite of all her efforts, the pace is too fast and poor Lisette falls forward.
“You klutz!  Have you systematically decided to annoy me today?”  Two cracks of the whip, fast as lightening, land on the poor girl.  A criss crossing of markings turning redder by the second blend with older, darker scars covering her body.  “Straighten up now or I’ll make you pay for it.”  Threatened with more pain, the maid rolls on her back and twists vigorously to get back up again.  Two small rings dangle from the tip of her breasts which are as ridiculously small as mine.  An ominous red mark, more so visible against her pale skin, colors her hairless sex.
My urge becomes insistent.  Timidly, I take a few steps towards the pillars.  At the cost of a supreme effort, I manage to overcome my shyness and dare speaking to Madame who is coming right at me.  With a small voice, I ask her:
“May I go to the bathroom please Mad…”  A slap across the face makes my head spin to one side.
“What gives you the right to speak to me, you little snot?”
I choke back tears, quickly turning my eyes down to the ground.
“Should I have you take the place of that dopey Lisette to make you learn to respect the few miserable orders I gave you this morning?”
“Forgive me Madame, it will not happen again.”  Heavy from the weight of all that culpability, I kneel at her feet.
“I like that better.  I really want to forgive you but…”  She stops for a moment, as if she were thinking about it.  “On the condition that you give me proof of your good faith.  A real proof.  Nor just a small kiss like this morning…”
Her incomplete sentence makes my head spin.  The more I think about it, the more my mind comes up empty.  The challenge paralyzes me.  I feel like I have gone back a few years when, as a little girl caught doing something wrong, I couldn’t find anything to say to justify myself.  Tears of scorn now replace the ones caused by the slap.  In despair, burdened by my helplessness, I burst into tears.  Heavy from the weight of the grief ravaging me, I find myself only a few centimeters from her boots.
I throw myself at her feet and wrap my arms around her ankles.  My cheek pressed against the patent leather, I desperately plead my case.  “I am truly sorry Madame.  Forgive me, please.”  To give more weight to my request, I plant a kiss on the top of her foot.
“Not bad, young girl.  It’s a good start.  I am sure that you can be even more convincing.”
Encouraged by her comments, I intensify my efforts.  The smell of leather enters my nostrils.  With devotion, I plant a thousand kisses on her boots.  I rub my face against the shiny leather.
Comforting, her husky voice comes to me from high above her long legs.  “Good, you’re beginning to understand, Sandrine.  You’re almost there.”  Using the tip of her whip, she caresses my cheek.
Ready to do anything to calm her wrath, I spinelessly lick the tips of her boots without paying attention to the taste of leather that fills my mouth.
“Finally… Here we are,” she says softly.  “Your hands now.”
Without hesitation, I cross them behind my back and humbly continue worshipping her feet, drowning them with saliva and tears.
She interrupts me by taking a step back.
“Very well, I forgive you.  Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”  Pulling with a sharp tug on the leash, she goes around me dragging Lisette behind her and heads towards the sofa.  “You, move!  Recess is over.”  Her tone is harsh once again.
I stupidly remain between the two columns, sitting on my heels.  My urge to go pee has quieted down.  The detachment she shows for me hurts me more than the slap and the humiliation of licking her boots.  What kind of powers does this woman have at her disposal to fascinate me so much?  My nipples are hard as wood and a terrible frustration ravages my belly.
“Sandrine!  Come near me.”  Feeling a tremendous relief, I hurry up to join them.  The idea that she can take care of Lisette without paying attention to me is insufferable.  Without taking her eyes off Lisette, she distractively taps on the leather next to her, inviting me to sit.
Standing in front of her boss, her legs spread apart and her eyes drawn, the young girl is waiting for her Mistress’ good will.  I nervously notice the degree with which the tender skin of her pubis and her sex is red and swollen.  The idea of getting sunburned there seems to me pointedly absurd.  Visibly she is suffering because her jaws, shut tight by the efforts she makes to stifle her moans, make her lips look white.  Our eyes meet but she looks away immediately.  Her eyelids are red from all the tears and her mascara, tracing long black lines on her cheeks, cannot make her look ugly.
“Turn around Lisette.  Position #5.”  The little maid shows us her back, leans forward and, with her legs slightly parted, puts her hands on her ass cheeks to pull them apart, presenting us her anus.  Madame teases the small orifice with the tip of her whip.  “I’m pondering whether I should put some in there too.”
“Have mercy, Madame.”  Her small voice is pitiful, broken by her sobs.  I do not understand what they are talking about.  “I beg of you, not in the asshole…”  A scathing lash from the whip makes her stop talking.  A new red mark appears.
“When will you understand that you cannot express yourself using that kind of trash talk anymore?  If you think that this is the way you can soften me up, you are gravely mistaken, girl.”  She turns to me.  “Isn’t she ridiculous?”  Again, her eyes captivate me.  I don’t know what to say in answer.  “You’ll have to decide what you want, young girl.  You speak without authorization and when I ask you something, you don’t answer.  I find that annoying.”
“N… No, no, Madame.  I am sorry.  It’s just that I don’t know what to say.”
“Good point, girl.  When you have nothing to say, best to shut up.”
My heartbeat rises.  Her hurting tone only adds to my humiliation.
“Lisette, go get me that sauce that you love so much please.  And don’t dawdle.”
“So Sandrine, are you feeling better now?”
“Yes Madame, I don’t know that happened to me earlier.”
“It wasn’t your fault.  That bird-brain had orders to give you something to eat this afternoon.  But don’t worry; it won’t be long before we move to the dining room.”
She caresses my cheek with her gloved hand.  “Tonight, you will share my table.  Just give me some time to finish taking care of that idiot and we can go have something to eat.  Tomorrow, you go back home.”
That revelation hits me like a ton of bricks.  “You mean that you will free me?”
“Of course, you silly little thing.  You will learn that I never force anyone.  I have no need to keep here people against their will.  I have known Ghislaine and Sylvie for many months through my modeling agency.  It’s there that we met.  Christelle has found them a “gig” and I think they will take part in the next fashion show prepared by Karl.
“Karl… Karl Lagerfeld???”
“The very one, sweetheart.  He’s one of my good friends.  ‘Angels’ had provided him with the majority of his models for almost 20 years.”
Angels… I can’t believe it.  It’s a world famous model agency.
“He’s the one who introduced me to Lisette.  He had noticed her during a visit to a trade school in a Paris suburb where he was the guest of honor.  He was attending a presentation about jobs in the fashion world.  That silly little thing kept imagining that one day she would strut her stuff on the catwalk.  How can one be so stupid?  She kept thinking that her pretty young face, her tiny waist and her 1m55 would be enough to become a model.  Of course, she had spent her entire childhood in the suburb, away from the city.  It explains why I had the toughest time teaching her good manners…”
Lisette’s return, still in tears, interrupts her.
“It’s about time.  I thought I was going to have to go get you.”
Without answering, the little maid resumes her position.  She holds between her interlocked hands a tube of sauce “harissa” that Madame grabs and hands to me while the young girl spreads again the perfectly round form of her small ass cheeks.
“This little stuck-up girl has been at my service full time for more than three years now.  Do you think that those three long years, during which I spent an endless amount of time trying to teach her good manners, will bear fruit?”
Before I can answer, she continues.  “Not even close.  She always has to find something to forget.  As soon as I turn my back, she lets herself go, she expresses herself swearing like a trooper.”
Lisette’s sniffles are breaking my heart.
“But it’s all an act.  In fact, that little one is just a sex maniac who loves to suffer.”
“No Madame, I…”
“Shut up you little snot.  I didn’t allow you to speak.”
She slides a gloved index finger along the sex of the maid and shows it to me, wet, glistening with the secretions from Lisette.
“Look, she’s so wet she should be ashamed.  That naughty little girl loves to be mistreated.  The more she suffers, the more she loves it.”
She grabs one of her intimate lips between her thumb and forefinger and pinches it, stretching it cruelly.
“Sandrine, put a little bit of hot sauce here please,” she says, putting out her index finger.
With a mix of horror and curiosity, I unscrew the cap from the tube and do as she has asked.  A small dab of reddish-purple sauce wraps around the tip of her index.
“A little more please.  There, perfect.”
Lisette sobs louder and louder, her sniffles fill the room.  Her hands are contorted on her two ass globes and I have the feeling that she is spreading them a little further so as to give better access to her anus.  With the index of her free hand, Madame teases the maid’s sphincter.
“Push my darling, you wouldn’t want for any of it to spill and mar the carpet, would you?”
“No Madame.”
With a small movement from her muscles, the rectum relaxes to welcome the gloved index finger from the blonde who, by turning it around a little, makes it penetrate some before pulling it out to pick up a little more of the blood red sauce.  This obscene scene captivates me.  An excitement close to the one I felt earlier by the pool is beginning to torture me.  A drop of liquid escapes from the sex of Lisette and hangs from a tiny, slimy thread.  Delicately, progressing little by little, Madame covers the anus of her maid with the hot sauce.  A deep sigh comes at us from the throat of the little servant.
“Look at the bright side, this will lubricate you.”
I dare not imagine the burning sensation that Lisette is feeling.  The pepper must be chafing her mucus like hell.  The finger is now deep embedded in the young girl’s gut.  Methodically, she inserts all the sauce in the sphincter.  The moans from the tortured victim become louder and louder.  Her breathing is faster.
“Now you have every reason to run as if your ass was on fire.”
From my spot, I can see her body becoming covered with sweat.  Large drops drip on her forehead.
“Time to go sit at the dinner table.”
She gets up and unties the little maid’s wrists.
“You are forbidden to clean up for now.  I will ask Christelle to check on you later.  Understood?”
“Yes Madame.”
“Perfect.  Now hurry up.  Go prepare your tray and set the table.  I’m giving you 10 minutes.”
Lisette leaves us running.  She trips on her heels exiting the room.  A little dazed, I also get up.
“Come here young girl,” the blond woman tells me sitting down.
Like an obsession, the scene I have just witnessed replays itself over and over in my head.  I suspiciously move closer.
“I want to check your capacity to adapt to the lifestyle in place here.  Position #1, between my legs, immediately.”
My brain kicks in automatically.  I kneel right away, thighs spread, arms crossed behind my back, facing her.  The scene with the hot sauce has given me wings.
“Well done Sandrine.”
I deserve no credit.  Along with the #5, it’s the only one I know.
“A little harder now: Position #2.”
A moment of panic makes my head spin for an instant.  The scene by the pool comes back to mind while an exquisite shiver races across my lower stomach.  In doubt, I cross my hands behind my head.
“Bravo my pretty one.”
Her husky voice, filled with softness, comforts me.
“Move closer a little bit more.”
A little more reassured by my success, I move up further between her legs.
“Lean back, head tilted backwards…Good.  Spread your elbows and your knees…  More than that.  There.  With your eyes closed now… Perfect.”
I give her my spread out body, offered, totally submitted to her every whim.  The promptness with which I executed her orders leaves me flabbergasted.  I wonder if it’s the fear or the desire to please her that motivates me the most.
“Excellent Sandrine.  You learn quickly.”
She pats my chin, caresses my neck.
“Don’t be afraid my pretty one, I have no intention of punishing you for the time being.”
The tips of my breasts are taut, hard as wood.  She grabs them both with her two hands and rolls them between thumbs and index fingers.  I feel my sex open up for a silent request.  A groan escapes from my throat before I can stop it.
“I like you a lot.  I will have a hard time letting you go.”
The pressure of her gloved fingers increases.  My desire commands my will even more.  A cold and hard contact between my intimate lips startles me.  Undecided, I let my mind wander, imagining that she has just slid a vibrator between my legs.  The intruder is becoming more and more pressing.  More imperative also, forcing its way slowly yet forcefully through the entrance of my sex.  I lean back further.  The pressure changes to a rubbing back and forth.  The object travels along the length of my slit.  The pinching becomes painful.  As incredible as it may seem, my desire increases proportionally.  The more her fingers bite, the more I offer my sex to the unfamiliar caress attacking it.
“That’s enough.  Look at me.”
An immense frustration overtakes me.  The suddenness with which she becomes disinterested in my body is almost painful.  I open my eyes, whimpering in frustration.  Christelle and Doctor Lee are both sitting on the sofa on either side of Madame.  A terrible shame sweeps over me.
“Little sex fiend!  You’ve made me wet.  Clean that up immediately.”
She points the whip to the tip of her boot made all shiny from my intimate secretions.  The other two women are staring at me with a knowing look.
“Hurry up; we have to go sit at the dinner table.”
I am so overwhelmed I can’t think straight.  Frustration, shame, pleasure and pain dance all at once in my head.  A lash from the whip stings my hip.
“I don’t make a habit of repeating myself.  Have you gone deaf?”
That’s all I need.  I get on all four to obey her.
“Position #1.”
Compliantly, I cross my hands behind my back.  The incredible quantity of secretion I generated to stain the tip of her boot surprises me.  Willingly, I undertake the task of licking the end of her foot under the watch eye of the three women.  My degradation is complete.  What kind of depraved girl am I really?
“Lisette!  How long before you’re done or will we have to wait all night?”
“It’s ready Madame.”
Without saying a word, she pushes me back using the flat sole from the other boot and gets up.  Then, changing her mind, she sits back down.
“The other one,” she says presenting me her left foot.
Next: First contract.

Please, let comments at :

I’ll be glad to read them.

You can find original illustrations for any chapter on my site :

Chapter 4: First contract

I am famished and that distracts me somewhat from the desire burning in me.  All four of us find ourselves sitting at the enormous table set against the bay window.  It must be over 15 meters long and two meters wide.  It’s the first time in my life that I am invited for dinner in such a luxurious environment.  The sun has begun to drop and its multiple shades of red fill the reception hall with a soft and warm glow reflecting off the immaculate tablecloth.  This is the large room I saw coming in with Lisette.  Facing the office of Madame, it opens up to the other side of the park.

Madame gives the signal for the festivities to start before sitting down, followed by Christelle and Doctor Lee.  I do the same.

All three are sitting side by side.  Madame presides at one end while I sit alone at the other end, facing her.  Curiously, when Lisette set the table, she didn’t put any utensils or any glasses for me.  To eat, I only have at my disposal a superb plate made of porcelain and a silver bowl from a renowned company that looks like a dish used to clean your fingers.

After a few moments, Madame gets up and moves towards me.  Her rolling gait and the grace she shows when she walks make me shiver.  I find her so radiant in the dying light of the sun.

“Sandrine, I am granting you the extreme honor of accepting you at my table.  I hope you will be worthy of it.  You will learn that I am very demanding regarding table manners.  This evening, it will not be an easy task because you will have to keep your hands crossed behind your chair during the entire meal.  I have a great deal of hope for you and I think, unquestionably, that this challenge, like the ones that preceded it, is within your reach.  Of course, the previous orders still apply.  You will not be authorized to speak unless I talk to you.  I’m counting on you, is that understood?”

Obviously, not a moment goes by that the influence this woman has on me doesn’t grow.  I nod timidly.

I do my best to adapt to this new restriction.  The menu is worthy of a four-star restaurant.  Appetizers are a succession of small crackers covered with foie gras then salmon then caviar, all delectable.  Never before have I enjoyed such a tasty meal.  The caterer must certainly be one of the most famous ones from the Paris area.  Since I cannot wipe my mouth, I pick my food slowly, taking great care to eat as cleanly as possible under the bemused eyes of my hostess.  There’s only one downside.  Every dish is very spicy and my urge to urinate has returned after the first serving.  Because instead of giving me a glass, Lisette has filled the small silver bowl with sparkling water and has placed it alongside my plate.  I must lap like an animal to quench my thirst.  I have a horrible thirst and I must look past the shame I feel demeaning myself like this.  I can only drink sparkling water while the three ladies share a bottle of wine that, listening to them, is very fine.  Another restriction, probably meant to reinforce my new condition as an inferior being.

Lisette is doing the service.  She is once again donning her maid uniform, except that she is not wearing her skirt.  Sometimes, Madame whispers something in her ear and she comes over to help me drink by holding up the bowl.  I do not question the perversity of the situation anymore.  I’ve gotten used to it, just like the victim of propaganda that eventually finds normal the worst kind of abuse.

At the beginning of the meal, Christelle checked her out thoroughly.  The little maid sat on the table, legs wide open, and had to spread the lips of her sex in an obscene show of exhibitionism.  Then she had to turn around on all four to present her anus.  From where I sat, it seemed to me that the flesh of her pubic area had turned even redder.  As for her ass cheeks, there was no doubt that the hot sauce had done its job.  A red mark matching the covered area looked like an attack of the hives, springing from her ass crack and forming a red target contrasting with her white skin lined with deep marks.

I eat slowly but with appetite.  When she has nothing to do, my partner of misfortune kneels between the legs of her Mistress, by the table, ready to slavishly obey any of her orders.  She rushes to refill an empty glass or every time one of the diners requests it.  From time to time, an indiscreet hand or probing finger finds one of her exposed charms. 

When Lisette fills my bowl for the second time, my situation begins to get worse.  The sparkling water amplifies my urge to go pee while still not quenching my thirst fed by the condiments on the food.  I find it harder and harder to hold still.  At the other end of the table, the three women have a heated conversation from which I am excluded.  With the passing of time, my urge becomes pressing.  Trapped by my forced silence, I must bite my lip, praying that I can hold back until the end of the meal.

The pace of service is very slow.  The conversation the three ladies are having drags on forever.  They ask for seconds without paying attention to me.  Systematically, I am the last one served.  I feel like a little girl invited to a banquet for adults and finding herself as the only child at the table.  Each dish is served ridiculously slowly.

The pressure in my bladder becomes painful.  The only means at my disposal to get a little bit of relief consists of a lateral movement of the knees which I open and close as discreetly as possible.  I dare not imagine the punishment that Madame would subject me to if I were to let my urge take over and pee on her chair.  The minutes tick away slowly and the looks sometimes mocking, sometimes suspicious that she frequently throws my way reinforces my resolve.

After serving the plat de resistance, Lisette comes over to assist me.  She feeds me like a young child who wouldn’t know how to hold her spoon without spilling food everywhere.  The perspiration exuding from her body and her face bears witness to the torments she is putting up with herself.  A few pressing looks make me realize that she has perceived my despair.  We each have to endure our torment in silence.  In spite of the mild temperature, I have cold sweats.

The main course is very spicy.  Discreetly, she makes me understand that I have to eat it all.  My growing thirst adds to my ordeal.  In despair, I drink two additional large bowls, not without trying to resist the need for it as long as I possibly could.

When at last we get to the dessert, my bladder is on the verge of exploding.  My legs are shaking convulsively and I have the toughest time preventing my hands from doing the same.  I must look very pale because, suddenly, Madame stops in mid-sentence, throwing an inquisitive look my way.

“Is something the matter Sandrine?” she asks me with a sly smile that profoundly bothers me to the core.

It’s now or never. I go for it.

“It’s just that…” Her hypnotic look makes me lose all my senses.  I have the feeling that her large blue eyes can read my thoughts.

“It’s just that…”

“Well what’s going on girl?  You’re repeating yourself?”

“I… I… I have to go pee.” I say with a little girl’s voice, overwhelmed by the three pairs of eyes starring down at me.

“Big deal!  Is that why you are making all that fuss?”  I was afraid that you were going to be sick again.  Not if that’s it.  The meal will end soon, you won’t have to wait much longer.  I still strongly suggest that you do not make me ashamed of you, my pretty one…” she adds with a voice filled with innuendos.

And with that, she loses interest in me.  Only Lisette discreetly throws an encouraging wink at me.  Of course, their discussion turns to the problems of incontinence and the diuretic virtues of the sparkling water.  I have to suffer this agony while I must patiently wait.  From time to time, Madame throws me a suspicious look, as if to verify that I am following her orders.

When finally comes the time for coffee, she leans towards Lisette and whispers something in her ear for the longest time.

Then, turning to me.  “So my darling, how are you holding up?”  The little maid hurries to the kitchen.

I can’t take it anymore.  I open and close my legs like a pair of scissors with all the energy of despair.  My efforts to stay discreet have long gone.  Cold shivers go through me like daggers.  I think my bladder is three times its normal size.  An incontrollable shaking runs through me head to toe.

“I… I beg of you Mad… Madame, I absolutely must go to the bathroom.  I… I can’t take it anymore.”  Tears of distress drown my eyes.

“And you think that crying will bring you relief?”  Her cruel tone floors me.  “The old saying: Cry, you will urinate less,” she adds talking to the other two who burst out laughing.  Unable to contain my grief, I burst into tears.

“What is your mental age if you must cry like this?  If you could only see yourself.  You will make you nice makeup run.”  As incredible as it may seem, her unforgiving voice gives me renewed strength.

“Lee, I would like for you to check her blood pressure please.  I find her frighteningly pale,” she says, turning to the Asian woman as if I was an object.

The doctor gets up and comes over to sit next to me to take my pulse.  Her hand touches my bloated belly.  Delicately, she feels and examines my bladder.  I shriek in surprise.

Christelle bursts out laughing.  “With everything she’s drank, she must have a bladder as big as a hot-air balloon.”  The redhead seems to enjoy my suffering.  She lifts her glass up to me before bringing it to her lips.  “To your health my pretty one.”

The hand on my stomach brings me pains that travel all the way to my urinary tract.  All my muscles are contracted to the max.  “Poor little girl that has to go pee!”  Her demeanor surprises me since she was so calm and helpful a moment ago.

Finally, Lisette returns with the coffee.  In the middle of her tray, a large silver soup tureen is resting, out of place amongst the cups.  Without a change in style, she serves the three women then puts a cup in front of me.

“Thank you Lisette.  Now take your place.”

“Very well, Madame.”  She picks up the soup tureen, takes the cover off of it and kneels at my feet.

“Come on, hurry up and drink your coffee and you will be able to relieve yourself.  I authorize you to use your hands to go faster.”

“Thank you Madame.”  I drew my last ounce of strength to use a respectful tone and not betray my impatience.  This is not the time to make her change her mind.

Hurriedly, I bring the steaming hot cup to my lips.  The coffee is boiling hot.  I don’t have time to let it cool down.  My lips and tongue are going through hell while I complete this latest ordeal without any further ado.  Suddenly, two hands make their way up between my knees and spread them apart widely.  Lisette has slid between my legs.  The element of surprise almost made me let go a squirt of urine.

“Above all, make sure you follow carefully all my instructions,” she tells me from under the table cloth.  “Move your chair back about a meter and sit forward on the front edge of the seat as much as possible.” 

Ready to do anything to end my ordeal, I quickly obey.  The three women get up and move closer to us.  Lisette places the soup tureen between my legs, right under my hairless sex.  With her elbows, she pushes on my knees, spreading me almost in a split.

Finally, I understand what they want.  The spicy meal, the sparkling water, all that is premeditated.  I will have to urinate in the soup tureen in front of everyone.  But my urge is so strong that I cannot hold it one second longer.

That is when the little maid puts her mouth against my sex.

“Good girl, just in time it seems.”  The low voice of Madame sounds unreal to me, stunned as I am by the behavior of Lisette.  Her lips press up strongly against my sex and I feel her brush my flower lightly with the tip of her tongue.  A fantastic wave of pleasure begins to grow between my legs.  A few drops of pee escape.  Lisette gobbles them up without a hitch.

“Let’s go Sandrine.  The time for deliverance has come my darling.”  Her hand takes over from the doctor’s.

Torn between shame and pleasure, I let go with merciful relief in the little maid’s mouth.

“Don’t spill a drop, girl.  If you ever stain the carpet…”

The threat, half implied, seems to stimulate Lisette.  She applies her lips even more hermetically against my vulva.  The sound of my urination, stifled by her mouth, is muted by the noise of her throat.  She swallows in great gulps my urine held in for so long.

Never have I imagined going through something so degrading and so exciting at the same time.  I just cannot take my eyes away from the maid’s face.  Her eyes closed, focused on her task, she does as best she can not to miss a beat.  But I have been holding it for too long and the flow of my urination is too strong.  Quickly, I realize that she is overwhelmed by the tide that I expel with power in her mouth.  Her cheeks swell.  Every gulp makes her fall behind.  Obviously, she doesn’t have time to breathe.

At the cost of a considerable effort, I manage to suspend the stream of pee.  My bladder is not as painful.  It gives her time to catch her breath.  It was about time.  As I stop, Lisette starts coughing.  The poor little girl had trouble swallowing.  A little bit of urine drips from her nostrils.

“You’re done already?” Madame is mocking me.  “It wasn’t worth all this drama, girl.”

I raise pleading eyes to her.  Next to her, the Asian woman has opened up her white blouse to slide her hand between her legs.  A little further back, Christelle is holding a video camera and is immortalizing our performance, not missing a bit.  She moves up towards us and crouches by my side.  I can imagine her zooming on my face, my sex and the mouth of Lisette.

A bolt of pleasure travels through my clitoris.  The maid has recuperated.  She licks me greedily, as if to thank me for my thoughtfulness.

“I… I still hav…  have to go.” I struggle to spell out

“Well, what are you waiting for, you little idiot?”

I let get again.  The stream, just as powerful as before, slams the throat of the little maid with force.  I wonder how she prevents it from leaking everywhere.  Visibly, she is experienced with this sort of thing.

I had to stop the stream two more times, for the same reasons.  When my urge begins to subside, after what seemed to me an eternity, Lisette starts licking me again hungrily.  Pitifully, I moan under the assault from the waves of pleasure shaking me to the tip of my nipples.  I imagine myself, seen through the lens of the camera, obscene, legs widely apart, arms crossed behind my back, my face twisted by the rise of sensual pleasure.  That thought has the effect of a lash from a whip on me and brings my excitement to its full height.  A torrent of molten lava threatens to explode in my mucous membranes swollen with blood.

I am on the verge of an orgasm.  My source has dried up.  Only the tongue of Lisette ties me to reality.  Waves of pleasure hit me in succession at a diabolical rate.  My legs and my arms are beginning to go numb when suddenly, following a sign from Madame, Lisette stops.

“No!!!”  A cry from the heart.  The frustration is too strong.  “Keep going, don’t stop, I’m begging you!!!”  As a reflex, my right hand moves over to replace her mouth, inexplicably drawn to my sex in turmoil.  Every part of me desperately needs this fabulous orgasm that she has just “short-circuited”.

A swift slap from a crop, on my hand, makes me freeze in place.  “That, girl, is out of the question.”  The voice of Madame shakes in anger.  “Rule #1: I and only I decide when you can have pleasure.  To caress yourself without my permission represents a very grave crime…”

I reconnect with reality.  I feel like I got caught.  My emotions are mixed.  On the one hand, I have the impression of having been denied a priceless gift.  On the other hand, a sense of deep depravation makes me feel guilty to the highest degree.  A bottomless emptiness fills my mind.  Never, ever since my childhood the idea of deserving punishment seems so obvious to me.

“Aren’t you ashamed, you dirty sex fiend?  Deriving pleasure from urinating into the mouth of my maid.  Just where do you think you are?  In a whorehouse?”

Her foul mood hurts me terribly.  Her eyes express her anger with even more vigor than her words can.  I feel like I have committed an unforgivable sin.

“If this ever happens again, I will give Christelle free rein to take care of you for 24 hours.”  The idea, terrifying, of being tortured with a lighter invades my thoughts.

“You, get out from under there!” she orders sharply.  “The table won’t get cleaned up by itself.”

In less time than it takes to say it, the maid is standing up in front of her boss.

“Christelle, check to make sure she hasn’t spilled any.”  Her tone leaves no room for contradiction.  Without a word, the redhead hurries up.  It’s obvious that no-one in the house wishes to face her wrath.

“As for you, I wonder why I shouldn’t send you home.”

Getting slammed on the head with a club would not have generated in a more disastrous result.  The urge to urinate that tortured me during the entire meal was nothing compared to that threat.  Under normal circumstances, I should have been happy with that conclusion.  I should have been rejoicing to return to my past life, my parents, my friends, the high school.  But no, everything has changed.  My priorities are totally different.  The idea of being chased away like a slob, of being rejected by this woman is, all of a sudden, insufferable.  Not for one moment, in spite of everything I had endured since I started seeing this woman, have I considered such a possibility.

“No!”  A cry from the heart.  “I beg of you, Madame, don’t do that.”

What kind of carnival monster has she turned me into for me to take so much pleasure in humiliating myself and accept being mistreated then ask for more?

“And why shouldn’t I do it?  What pathetic reason could you give me to make me keep you around?  You have spent almost two days here, fed, housed and cleaned.  All that cost money, you silly thing.  Are you that much of an idiot to believe that tonight’s dinner fell out of the sky?  All told, we’re talking four thousand Euros, minimum.  And that does not include the service.  How do you expect to reimburse me those expenses?”

I burst into tears.  “Everything you want, Madame, I will do everything you want.  Don’t reject me.  Have mercy.” I say, sobbing.

“Everything I want?  But you already do everything I want, you little slut.  Look at yourself.  With you makeup running, you look like a troll up.  What do you want me to do with you?”

“P… Pu… Punish m… Punish me if you want but I’m begging you… D… Don’t send me away.”

She pauses for a moment in silence.  “It’s clear that you deserve some punishment…”  Not a sound disturbs her thinking.  Only my sobbing rings out miserably.  “I can be magnanimous.  We can perhaps come to an agreement, you and me…”  She stops again.  “I propose a trial period of… It’s eight o’clock in the evening… Let’s say that I keep you on trial for twenty hours.  We will review the situation tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock sharp then.  What do you think?”

I throw myself at her feet.  Tears of relief join my tears of sorrow.  “I thank you Madame.”  Humbly, I press my cheek against her boot.  Her leniency fills me with happiness.  She pulls her other foot back in an inviting gesture.  Showing gratefulness, I cover with kisses the shiny leather she deems worthy of me.

“Careful, young lady.  This isn’t a decision you want to make lightly.  During the next twenty hours, you will not be allowed to change your mind.  Regardless of the difficulties you will encounter.  Are we in agreement then?”

“Yes, yes Madame.  I promise you that you will not regret it.”

“Well of course, you will be punished for your bad behavior.  Are you sure that you can honor your commitments?”

“Yes Madame.  Keep me by your side please.”

“Ok, I’m almost done.  You will also have to be totally obedient.  That is, you will not only execute all my orders but on top of that, you will have to do so with enthusiasm.  I want to see you take pleasure in everything I will demand from you.  At the slightest sign of protest, at the tiniest lack of willingness on your part, our pact will end immediately.

“I will do everything you want Madame.”

“Good, the matter is closed.  Lisette, your punishment is over.  When you are done clearing out the table, you will find Sandrine in the office.  Christelle has some administrative formalities to complete with her.  Next you will both go make yourselves pretty and you will both wait for me at 10 p.m. sharp in front of the pool.”

“As you wish, Madame.”

The redhead comes next to me, ties a leather strap to my collar and pulls me behind her, on a leash.  We follow the long corridor.  She is taller than me and moves at a brisk pace, forcing me to jog to keep up with her.  On her hip hangs a riding crop that slaps against her thighs with every step.  Little by little, I get over my emotions.  What can those mysterious administrative formalities be?  We enter the room in which I saw her for the first time.

“Sit over there,” she orders me, pointing to one of the chairs facing the desk.  “Hands behind your back, legs opened.”

She sits down, facing me.  The desk, entirely made of mahogany, is huge.  At each of its ends sits a flat screen.  Perfectly at ease, she grabs a mouse and navigates through some files for a while.  I am watching her.  In spite of her severe demeanor, she has a pretty face and her short hair give her a masculine look.  Her green eyes are alive.  She leans forward and picks up a document that just silently came out from a printer located under the desk.

“What are you looking at?”

“Caught red-handed, I lower my eyes.  I have yet to see that woman smile.  Her thin and harsh face never seems to lose that stern look she has while staring at me.

“I forbid you to put your eyes on me.  Understood?”  Her aggressive tone makes me shiver.

“Yes, Madame.”

“Yes who?”

“Yes, Christelle.”

“I prefer that.”  Totally ignoring me, she crosses her feet on the desk and starts reading the document.  Her black short leather skirt shows a large part of her long legs covered with dark nylons.

“Climb on the desk and get on all four.  Position #5.”

A hot flash fills my face.  I scramble up on the huge desk.  The screens are so far apart from each other that I could lie down completely stretched out between them.  The tips of my breasts extend.

She resumes her reading.  Her feet are resting on top of mine.  Not without some apprehension, I obediently spread out my buttocks.  A draft of cool air drifts down my intimate parts, reviving the sensitivity of my clitoris.

“Not like that, you little pervert!  Facing me.”

Red with shame, I rotate on my knees without letting go of my buttocks.  My nipples are hard as stone.  I find myself only centimeters away from her red stilettos with spiked heels.  Her legs, covered with black nylons, hypnotize me for a moment.

“Bend down more than that.”

Holding on to my buttocks, I put my chin down on the polished surface of the table.  Her feet move and come to rest against my face.  A mixed smell of leather and perspiration fills my nostrils.  With a small mocking laugh, she rubs the sole of her left foot against my right cheek.  The rough contact is unpleasant.  A drop of sweat trickles down from my forehead and slide along my nose, giving me an itch I have a tough time containing.  Using the tip of her crop, she pats me on the right cheek.  My mind is a blur.  Between my opened buttocks, a draft of air gives me an icy sensation, making me realize how wet my intimate parts are.  A slap from the riding crop, harder than the others, forces me to turn my head.  I end up facing her stilettos.  From the openings on top of them, I can see the black nylons covering her feet.

The smell becomes insistent.  This woman has stinky feet.

“Kiss my toes.”

I overcome my revulsion and place my lips on her big toe.  The unpleasant smell is strong.  Nose pressed on her stilettos, I breathe in with disgust this humiliating fragrance of leather, old cheese and perspiration mixed together.  Lips glued to the black nylon, I plant kiss after kiss on the foot of my torturer.  The redhead doesn’t make a sound.  Only the clicks from her mouse and the purring of the printer spewing printout after printout break the silence of the room.  An irresistible urge overtakes me.  A perilous urge to slide my finger between the lips of my sex.  Under duress, my breathing becomes faster.  The horrible odor of stinky feet takes hold in my nostrils.  Discreetly, my index finger progresses to the heart of my soaking intimacy.  Never, ever have I felt such a desire.

“Now the sole.”

I willingly obey, desperately stretching my finger to reach my wanting clitoris.  Her shoes are dusty and the demeaning contact with the rough and used leather adds to my humiliation.  The orgasm, held back for so long, rises up sharply in my loins, threatening to erupt inside me with the power of a river that just broke the dam.  With a fingertip, I tickle my little appendage on fire.

Suddenly, a lightening fast strike hits me in the back.

“Who gave you permission to fondle yourself, you little whore?”

The pain, along with the surprise, is such that I rise up grimacing.  Another blow lands on my left hip.  I startle, putting my hands in front of me in a useless attempt at protection.  My eyes are bathing in tears.

“Did I ask you to stop?  Kiss the sole, now!” she says raising her arm to attack again.

Terrorized, I hurry up getting back to work, nails clenching my ass cheeks.  She has not moved, content to flog me with all the might at her disposal.  The stinging pain relegates the pleasure tormenting me to the deepest depth of my libido.

“Little idiot!” she says again with contempt in her voice.  “You thought that I wasn’t aware of your little game?  Know that nothing you can do escapes me.  Here, take a look over there.”

With her riding crop, she taps me on the right cheek so that I have to turn my head.  On my left, a zoomed-in image of my face fills the entire screen.  The definition is so clear that I can see my tears.  My makeup has run.  A click and an image of my back replaces the previous one.  A small cut, red, swollen, stands out against my pale skin, as plain as the nose on your face.

“Madame will be furious with you.  I wouldn’t want to be in your place when she sees that.”

This new revelation throws me in a deep state of bewilderment.  I understand now why Lisette was so worried about the cameras in the infirmary and the showers.  Big Brother is watching you…

“The whole mansion is under electronic surveillance.  You are always monitored and everything is recorded on a hard drive.  I look at all the files before selecting them for Madame.  The slightest oversight will be relentlessly chastised with great severity.  I am patiently waiting for her to leave you in my good care.  I am anxious to play with your nice little slutty body.”

An immense sense of despair sweeps over me.  My back and my hip are in extreme pain.  I see myself, naked, tied up and spread, left to endure the worst tortures this sadistic woman can inflict on me.  My blood turns to ice.  One time, she tortured me with a lighter… I had blisters for several days… The memory of Lisette’s words has the effect of a cold shower.  Goose bumps cover my entire body.

“Here.” She says, handing me a printout with a header from the modeling agency.  “Read this.”



Last Name:

First Name:


I hereby authorize any and all persons, mandated by or working for the agency “ANGELS Models” to photograph me and shoot me on film regardless of the process used.  Similarly, I authorize Madame Irene de Villemonble, Duchess of Villemonble, representative and general manager of the agency: “ANGELS Models” to exploit my image in any way including commercially.  In payment for these services, I acknowledge benefiting and having benefited from financial and moral support from the Duchess of Villemonble to whom I give all powers to manage my career and handle our relationship, be it professional or private, as she sees fit.  Under no circumstances will I turn against her or the agency “ANGELS Models”, no matter what the state of that relationship is.

I certify being over 18 and consenting, in full possession of my faculties and acting with full knowledge of the facts.

Prepared at: on (date)


“Read it out loud, fill in the blanks and sign.” She tells me, handing me a magnificent brand named pen.  “Hurry up, we haven’t got all night.”

She gets up and circles me.  Using the tip of her nails, her fingers brush against the scars she gave me with her crop.  In spite of myself, I whine pathetically.

“Just read instead of groaning like a little bitch.”

I resume my reading with the feeling of having gone back to grade school, confronted with a despotic teacher.  Her hand moves down to my buttocks and caresses them deliciously for a long time before diving between them.

“You are gushing like a fountain.”

A glance at the screen shows my face, red as a beet.  Using the tip of her nail, she endlessly teases my anus while I get on with my task.  With a simple signature, I give Madame de Villemonble every power to use as she sees fit all the compromising videos of me she has made.

“Good.  It’s about time.” She says snatching the printout from my hands.  “That doesn’t mean we’re done.”  After leisurely sitting up straight in her chair, she hands me a pile of documents and a folder.  “Turn around the other way and file these in the tabs while I check to make sure you didn’t make any mistake.”

The folder is full of transparent tabs.  I turn around and bow down to do the work.  I must take each sheet one by one and file them in order.  There has to be a hundred of them.  On each one of them appears a detailed description of the rules to which I must submit, the constraints imposed on me, the different positions I will have to take on demand, the outfits I will be authorized to wear and the ones that are forbidden.

All the while, she moves her crop between my ass cheeks and has fun exploring my private parts with her fingertips.  Those ministrations bother me and more than once, I drop a sheet, clumsiness immediately chastised by a distracted lash from the crop or a slap on the ass.

“Boy, are you clumsy.  It’s as if you’re doing it on purpose to get punished.”

What is she thinking?  I do my best to do my work as quickly as possible but the constant state of arousal in which she keeps me prevents me from correctly concentrating.  Sometimes, she pushes her fingers through the opening of my sex or my anus.  Or, sadistically, she very slowly rubs her nails against my mucous membranes, having fun scratching me lightly.  But pain isn’t part of the equation.  My desire is so strong that my secretions protect me from torment by lubricating my flesh.

The last pages make up a submission contract, spread over 10 pages or so.  I don’t have time to read it.

“Give me that.” She says once I finish my task.

She puts the folder in a drawer and grabs my leash.  With a sharp pull, she makes me get off the desk and, without a word, drags me out of the room.

Next: First evening with Madame.

Please, let comments at :

I’ll be glad to read them.

You can find original illustrations for any chapter on my site :

Chapter 5 : First evening with Madame.

We walk the length of the corridor and reach a part of the house that I do not know.  After having me cross a large room that looks more like a community kitchen than anything else, she makes me turn left, down another corridor.  She stops and points to a closed door.
“Position #1.  Wait me for here.”
And she abandons me like an insignificant object, kneeling in front of the door.  Not a sound reaches me save for the departing clicking of her heels on the marble that covers the floor.  A little worried, I wonder what she has in store for me; I imagine being a little girl that just got punished by having to stand in the corner.  The desire between my thighs remains, obsessive.  Shamefully, I recall the troublesome pleasure I felt when I bowed against her feet, smelling their odor, that repulsive emanation that should have disgusted me, sickened me.  Yet, against all odds, I am left with the memory of a new and fascinating pleasure.  How did such a stench provide me with any kind of sexual excitement?
Ever since my kidnapping, I have been confronted with perversions that I never could have imagined possible.  And each time, I have been betrayed by my body and my senses.  I have sunk to such a state of depravation that the simple idea of giving all this up makes me shiver.  How did I get to this point?
The sound of footsteps breaks my train of thought, producing on my lower back a shudder that goes up the length of my spine.  The tips of my breasts start to hurt from it.
“Keep the position.  Lisette will come and get you.”  And she keeps on walking, leaving me alone and confused.  Suddenly, thoughts of my mother take over my mind.  The events happened with such intensity that, not one moment, did I think about my parents.  They must be worried sick.  The police might even be looking for me…
“Christelle!  Please…”
The redhead turns on her heels and walks back towards me.
“M… my… my parents.  They must be concerned.”
Taking her time, she draws closer and squats down next to me.  Her breath caresses my neck and her perfume teases my nostrils, raising my desire.  Using the tip of her left nail, she lifts my chin, forcing me to turn my head towards her.
“Don’t worry about them.  You will understand in due time.”
Her lips are centimeters away from mine.  Her piercing eyes seem to read my emotions like an open book.
“B… but… the police?”
“The police?” she asks punctuating her words with a mocking laugh.  “Why do you want the police to be interested in a little pervert, nymphomaniac on top of that, like you?”
I turn pale.  She grabs my left nipple and makes it roll between her thumb and forefinger.  I startle.  Slowly, sadistically, her fingers tighten like a vise on my tender flesh.
“Because everyone here knows that you’re nothing but a little nymphomaniac pervert, isn’t that so Sandrine?”
I lower my eyes.  The pressure of her fingers rises, complemented by a slow and painful twisting.
“I asked you a question.”
A whimper from the pain rises from my throat. “Yes.”  The word, harshly spoken, barely escapes my lips.
“Yes who?” she whispers sadistically in my ear while twisting again.
“Yes Christelle!” I answer suppressing a scream from the pain.
“Good.  Now I am going to repeat this for the last time: If you talk to me again without being asked first, It will be my pleasure to belt your cute little breasts with great care.
With that, she turns her back to me and leaves me there, panting, short of breath, crumpled against the door.
The sweet voice of Lisette.  She is standing behind me and reaches down to grab my leash.  “Let’s go, gotta get ready.”
The door in front of which I was kneeling opens up and a superb bathroom appears.  Entirely made of marble, its reasonable dimensions are in stark contrast with the excesses from the different rooms I have visited before.  Here, the classic layout is the opposite of the luxurious opulence to which I have been exposed to up to this point.  At the far end of the room, a large shower fills the entire width of the wall, sheltered by a glass that prevents the water from splashing everywhere.  On the right, a double vanity entirely made of marble is up against a large mirror that reflects a large part of the room.  On the other side, facing it, a makeup table extends almost the whole length of the wall, enhanced also by a mirror of the same dimension as the one opposing it.  Finally, a chair in all points identical to the ones one can see in a beauty salon sits royally in front of the table.
The day begins to fade.  She switches on the light and, here and there, spotlights lit up, filling the room with light and making the temperature rise by a few degrees.
“Get undressed quick, we have but an hour to get ready.”
Quickly, she takes off her clothes.  I do the same, watching her.  Our eyes meet in the mirror.
“What do you think of me?” she asks while removing her socks.
“V… very pretty.” I answer, blushing.  “I… I wanted to apologize for earlier.”
“What for?”
“Well… A while back… You know, at the table…”
“Ah.  When I drank you piss?”
I find her language shocking.
She picks up our clothes and puts them in a bin obviously there for the dirty laundry.
“You know, you don’t have to apologize for that.  I loved it.”
“B… but…”
“Madame loves to do it to me.  When she agrees to let me sleep with her, the next morning I have to drink her piss when she wakes up.”  
Frightened by her comments, I shyly join her in the shower.  Without her heels, this girl is tiny.  I am almost a head taller than she is.  Thin to the extreme, her small breasts look like they belong to a teenager.  Curiously, her nipples, disproportionally large in comparison, look like those of an adult.  I had not noticed, when she showed me her markings, that each of them was adorned with a small ring going through the middle of them.  Her flat and toned belly borders an amazingly narrow waistline.  Between her rather well proportioned thighs, a third ring sticks out from between the lips of her bare sex.  I had read or heard about eccentrics getting a “piercing” on their sex or their breasts but I hadn’t seen one with my own eyes before.
Her childlike body and the ease with which she spews out these vulgar words make her look like a retarded adolescent.
“You know, it’s not the worst,” she adds diving under the shower head.  “With Christelle, it’s not only her piss that I have to deal with…”
“What do you mean?”  I can’t believe what she has just told me.  Her tone of voice is as casual as if she was talking about the sun or the rain.
I watch her lather up her youthful body.  Her soapy hands scrub vigorously the purple marks of her previous punishments from which she doesn’t seem to feel pain anymore.
“Well, with her it’s also the other thing I have to swallow.  At first, I had a tough getting used to it.  But now, it’s ok.  I almost get off when it happens.”
Stunned, I look at her without moving.  She rubs her entire body, sparing only her lower abdomen.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?  You look like a statue.  Hurry up if you don’t want to be punished for being late.”  The water has a wonderfully relaxing effect; I could stay under it for hours.  Intrigued that she has avoided soaping up between her legs, I ask her if it still burns, pointing to her tumescent sex.
“No, not anymore, but boy does it itch.  Madame wants you to clean me.  Look, I must be really chafed.”
Drawn by curiosity, I kneel at her feet.  The water cascades between her breasts, flows down on her belly and falls off, forming a little sliver between her legs.  Using both her hands, she spreads and exposes her sex in an obscene fashion.  Her pubic area is as red as if it had been sunburned.  Her intimate parts have the color of a piece of raw meat on the butcher’s block.  Numerous little pink deposits, probably leftovers from the hot sauce, are spread out all over between the top of her pubic area and her anus.  An odor both fishy and spicy hits my nostrils.  Her sex has marinated in that mixture during the entire meal.  I cannot imagine how much the chafing torments her.
“It looks as if you peeled.”
“Yes, it always does that.  I was terribly afraid that she was going to apply another coating after the meal.  Ok, go ahead and lather me up, I can’t stand it anymore.”
I let a drop of gel douche land on her pubic area and after putting some on my index finger, I make it slide carefully through the opening of her sex.  A moan makes me withdraw it quickly.
“No, keep going, it feels good.”
She arches her back and pushes her pelvis towards me in an inviting gesture that leaves no doubt.  Delicately, I resume my adventure inside her devastated nether regions.
“Yessss, keep going.”
This time, her tone of voice does not fool me.  The pain that I am inflicting on her by touching her swollen flesh is giving her pleasure.  Using the flat part of my hand, I cover her intimate parts with soap and rub her for a long time, back and forth, teasing along the way her turgescent clitoris that sticks out like a small member in erection.  My excitement goes up as hers does and her earlier moans quickly turn into whimpers of pleasure.
“Inside too.”
Her voice is just a whisper now.  Rinsed away by the water that trickles on her body, the soap flows down along her thighs, tinted with pink.  The idea that it could be blood pops into my head for an instant but I give it no heed.  Delicately, I press my index against the entrance of her vagina.
“Yessss, like that.”
Her whimpers turn into groans.  I make my finger penetrate her until I reach the knuckle before pulling it out then I push it back in several times.  Some times, I stop with my finger deep inside her offered sex, taking delight in the spasms of pleasure this causes her.  Her muscles, amazingly toned, tighten around my finger with force, as if they never wanted it to get out.  A reddish juice flows down my wrist.  Her body is taut like the string of a bow.
“Stop, let it go.”
Her command surprises me as much as it petrifies me.
“If I cum, Madame will skin me alive.  The other side now.”
She turns around suddenly and presents me two small cheeks, perfectly round and proportioned, without an ounce of fat, separated by a deep cleft that reveals in an obscene way her most secret place.  There too, numerous purple lines are crisscrossing, covering entirely both hemispheres.  Using her two hands, she pulls on her buttocks, completely exposing her anal area to me.  The similarity with the front is surprising.  Her ass cleft is nothing but redness and blisters, as if a sudden onset of the hives had taken place.  Remains from the hot sauce are now black and look like some little disgusting leftovers all around her sphincter.  The spray from the shower drowns the crack of her ass, taking with it a lot of what sticks out there.
“Let’s go Sandrine, do it!”
Her authoritive tone overrides the last of my scruples.  My finger brushes for a moment against the heated mucus then, encouraged by her lack of reaction, I become bolder and, using a circular motion, I soap up the area around her anus.  Her hands spread open her butt cheeks as if she wanted to tear them out.  Her rectum flutters like the mouth of a fish in search of oxygen, opening and closing in convulsions.  It’s without any difficulties that my finger makes its way deep inside her gut.
“Mmmmm… Does that feel good.”
One last surge of modesty torments me.  I am kneeling behind a young woman that I didn’t know a week ago.  She is bent over in front of me and is spreading open her cheeks with both hands to give way to my forefinger which I forcefully inserted in her anus past my first and second phalanx.  A veil of shame makes my face hot.  Paradoxically, at the same time, my desire has never been this strong.  Perversely, I raise the pressure on my finger.  My second phalanx crosses the elastic barrier, rewarded by a new groan of pleasure.
“Turn your finger around to make go deeper,” she recommends.
I must be completely crazy.  Unable to control my excitement, I shove my index all the way in with one quick motion.
“Yessss… turn it more.”
In all this frenzy, I make my finger turn in every direction.
“Stop, that’s enough.  Take it out now.”
She must have some undesirable host deep within her bowels because, when I take it out, the tip of my index shows, in addition to the corrosive mixture, a few dark maroon specks of suspicious origin, stuck under my nail, which I do not doubt to be her excrements.  On the verge of disgust, I hurriedly rinse it out under the water spray.
“I’m still itching,” she says while rinsing out.  “Too bad we don’t have more time.”  She gets out of the shower to look at herself in the mirror.  “It’s not surprising that I’m all red.”
I wash up thoroughly, surprised that she doesn’t follow suit.  She took out my leash before getting in the shower but the collar bothers me enormously.  Dry, I managed to forget it but now, weighted down by its wet condition, every move I make reminds me of its presence.
“Hurry up, we only have half an hour left and I still have to cut your hair.”  Stunned, I stay immobilized under the shower.
Sitting in front the vanity, she studies me through the mirror while putting on a new pair of stockings.  “You look cute with your ponytails.  Too bad Madame doesn’t want them.  Me, I like them a lot.”
Dripping water, I get out of the cabin.
“No time to dry you up.  Sit over there.”
She points to the seat she just vacated.  Her heels slim down her figure, making her seem almost underweight.  I take my place in front of the large mirror and get the feeling I just stepped into a very special kind of hair salon.  Her reflection in the mirror sends back the image of a life-size obscene doll.  She has put her headdress and garter belt back on which, along with her stockings and her stilettos, let a disturbing perfume of forbidden nature escape.  The swaying the seat makes as it comes down makes me wince.  It has an electric jack which allows her to adjust the height exactly as she wants it.
Armed with a pair of long scissors, she begins trimming my hair.  Seeing my worried look, she tries to reassure me.  “Don’t worry, Madame has very good taste.”  Her face shows a deep admiration.  “If she prefers you with short hair, it’s because it’ll look great on you.”
More resigned than confident, I witness, powerless, the fall of my locks one after the other.  It is true that the opinion of Madame, as the manager of a model agency and owner of a house decorated with exquisite taste, is somewhat reassuring.  Nevertheless, I have had long hair ever since my childhood and it’s with a twinge of sadness that I accept to part with it.
Again, the dexterity my companion shows surprises me.  Like a professional, she goes about her business with precise and efficient movements.  Quickly, the hair dryer and the brushes replace the scissors.
“You worked in a hairdressing salon before?”
“Yes, I did the first two years of a certificate of professional aptitude.  One to be a hairdresser and the other to be a beautician, before getting into fashion.  I even met Karl Lagerfeld.”
The trace of pride that sharpens her tone of voice reminds me of the speech Madame made on the way she became acquainted with Lisette and the contempt she had shown in rejecting modeling as a career for the girl.
“But apparently, I’m too small.”
Her disappointment breaks my heart.  I decide to change the subject.  My haircut has a boyish style and the image the mirror shows pleases me.
“I rather like my hair short,” I say.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, wait till you see the makeup.”
Her dazzling smile makes me realize that I nailed it.
The makeup is applied in a few minutes and my dress even faster since Madame wishes to see me appear before her totally naked.  Lisette takes out a new set of restraining devices from the closet and it’s with leather bracelets, a collar and a leash as only attire that I accompany her to the pool.
We get there first.  The place is bathed in a powerful light that keeps the night at bay well beyond the trees surrounding the perimeter.  The brightness, produced by several clusters of spots supported by lampposts, is such that we could believe that we’re still in the daytime.
“You know the position now,” Lisette tells me as she kneels down, her back to the pool.  I follow her lead, sitting by her side.
Doctor Lee is the first one to join us.  She has traded her medical smock for a small white dress, very short, that enhances her tan.  She stops next to me.  Two endlessly long legs, perched on top of small stilettos matching her dress, fill my field of vision.
“Congratulations girls, you are early.”  She squats down in front of me, thighs parted.  I can’t help but notice that she is not wearing any panties.  Using the tip of her index finger, she raises my chin.  “Mmmm I could take a bite out of you Sandrine.”  And without any further ado, she puts her lips to mine in a deep and long kiss.
My body reacts instantly to this ministration.  The tips of my breasts grow and a wetness, now familiar, registers between my thighs.
“Lisette, show us position #2 please.”  Her sweet voice makes me flutter.
“Very well Doctor.”  My friend leans backwards, puts her hands on her back and, knees parted to their limit, pushes her stomach forward.  The arc that her back is forming presents her small chest as an offering and her knees are at an angle close to a full split.
“Perfect.  Now it’s your turn, Sandrine.”
The position is taxing.  Luckily, the roughly ten years of dance lessons I took when I was a child have left me with some suppleness that can easily match what the young girl can do.  The indecency of the position adds to my excitement.
“Good!  Congratulations for the suppleness!” she says, moving her immaculate stiletto up to about ten centimeters from my crotch.  She dominates me from her height and, hands on her hips, says this short sentence that I find simple in nature: “Move towards me.”  Using my hands for support, I make my knees slides towards her.
“Again.”  The order is more brunt, the soft voice from earlier on is now replaced by this authority I worship and which confirms me in my new condition as a submissive.
My pubic area is now very close to her foot.  My face turns red.  Not daring to look up, I feel more than I make out her conquering look staring down at me.
“You’re almost there, my pretty one, just a little bit more effort.”  This time, there is no alternative, I know where she wants to go with this.  The humiliation imposed by this perverse exhibitionism translates into a wave of pleasure.  I cover the few centimeters left and press my sex against her boot.  To top off my shame, a low moan of pleasure escapes my lips.
“Very good.  Now, you make your stomach swing up and down.  A little like those oriental dancers do.”  Her sugary tone and the richness of the details that she uses to guide me make me realize that she is addressing me as if I were mentally handicapped or had the mind of a ten year old.
My pulse speeds up.  Cheeks on fire, I understand all too well that she wants me to rub my crotch against her shoe.  All pride gone, I follow her direction with all the weakness of a nymphomaniac in heat.  The ball of pleasure born in my lower abdomen is progressively climbing up my chest.  I behave like the worst type of slut.  The more I feel debased, the more my pleasure takes over my reason.  Even the notion of time has become foreign to me when suddenly, totally indifferent to my state of mind, she pulls her foot back and leaves me in a deep chasm of frustration.
“You like to rub yourself, don’t you, you little pervert.  Look in what shape you left my shoe.”  The final proof of my depravation glows on her shoe, made shiny by the nocturnal lighting.  Frustrated, I struggle with all my might against the terrible urge to caress myself that overwhelms me.  Against this imperative and irresistible desire that pushes me to continue caressing myself with her shoe.
At that moment, with a resounding clicking of heels, Christelle makes her entrance.  She is still wearing the same leather outfit and gives off such an aura of authority that I feel at fault and straighten up hurriedly on my knees.  She moves forward nonchalantly, with the swaying stride of a mannequin, holding in her hand a long riding crop that she slaps against her leg with every step.
Coming near me, she looks me in the eye for a long time before crucifying me: “Two things my pretty one.  First, who authorized you to look anywhere but on the ground when you are in the presence of a Mistress?”  Right away, I lower my eyes.  A wall of silence crashes down on my shoulders.  “It’s about time for you to learn the lessons young girl.  If you find them hard to understand, it will be my pleasure to help you get there.”
“Forgive me Christelle.  I won’t happen…”
I don’t even time to finish my sentence when a slap from the riding crop stings my left hip.
“Secondly, who authorized you to change position?”  A blow, on the other hip, follows her question.  “Here, you have no rights.  Only the one that says that you should do what we demand from you.  Do you understand?”
“Yes Mad…”
A third blow stings me before I have time to return to my original position.  “YES WHO?”
“CHRISTELLE, yes Christelle.  F… for… forgive me.”  Terrorized by the pain, I fight with great effort to speak clearly.  The words struggle out of my mouth.  I hurry in resuming the position when the voice of Madame rings out.
“Well, well.  What’s going on here?”
A dangerously beautiful princess just appears at the far end of the terrace, wearing an evening gown coming right out of a fairy tale, with a slit up to her mid-thigh, perched on stilettos of unrivalled and superb design.  She is escorted by a black Doberman wearing a muzzle and pulling on his leash with such force that she can hardly hold him back.
“Easy, Blackie, easy.”
The command calms down the beast a little and she majestically moves towards us, making her spiked heels ring on the tiles around the pool.
“Nothing serious, just a little adjustment between Sandrine and me,” answers Christelle.
“And what kind of ‘little adjustment’ requires this kind of screams my dear?”
The tone of voice used by Madame is so cold and severe that it condemns the redhead.
“It’s just that Sandrine has a tough time remembering certain rul…”
“Did she show you any lack of respect?” Madame asks Doctor Lee, cutting in.
“No, it was more about rules, let’s say…”  She stops, as if she was looking for her words.  “Let’s say the more subtle rules,” answers the doctor.
“Sandrine, explain to me what grievances they have against you,” she tells me, leaning down to look at the marks from the riding crops on my hips.
“It… it’s just that… I swear to you that it will never happen again Mad…”
An unreasonable fear that I offended her, that I failed my contractual duties makes me lose my composure.
“My question is about the past, not the future.  I am not asking you what you should do tomorrow my dear, but what you did a while back.”  The impression of looking like a retarded girl generates in me a charge of adrenaline that gives me the strength to answer.
“I changed positions without authorization and I looked Christelle in the eyes.”  Like a machine gun, I fired the words out as if they were burning in my mouth.
“Is that all?  Dear old Christelle.  She is always so worried about protocol.  Well, let’s forget the whole thing, shall we?”
And she graciously sits on the luxurious eight-place corner sofa, under an awning made of fabric, immediately followed by Doctor Lee and Christelle.  It’s obvious she is the one leading the dance.  The other two respect and endure her decisions just as much as Lisette and I do.  She makes the Doberman lie down at her feet and pets him on the neck, turning distractedly to her maid.
“Lisette!  Refreshments please.”
Not knowing what else to do, I stay in the humiliating #2 position.
“Sandrine, come closer so that I can admire your new do.”
Happy to be the center of her attention, I get up hurriedly.
“No, not like that.”  I freeze.  “Keep the position my darling.”
Right away, I am gripped by a moral dilemma.  Should I, as my common sense suggests, move forward arched backwards but using for support my hands and feet, which doesn’t really represent position #2.  Or rather, should I listen to this crazy little idea that just popped into my head and commands me to do it crawling on my knees.  Why have I chosen the second solution?  The nonskid tiling is rough and I know that inevitably my skin will not fare well against it.  Is it the urge to prove my allegiance to Madame?  Was she aware of what she was demanding of me and will she appreciate my mortification for what it’s worth?  In any event, when I reach her feet, I have shredded knees and I am dripping sweat from head to toe.
Blackie welcomes my arrival with a coarse bark.  He points his shiny nose covered with dribble towards me and moves his mouth closer to my offered body.  Surmounting my disgust, I prepare myself to be subjected to this repulsive contact when a sharp order severely given by Madame makes him back off.
“BLACKIE!  DOWN.”  The big dog returns to his previous spot.  “You should get up on the table my dear.  That way, we would have some peace and quiet.”
The acrobatic performance I give while climbing the low table captivates her.  The table top is at least a meter and a half wide and four to five meters long.  I take my place in its center, exposing my nudity like a statue that has the only purpose of being part of the decor.
In the meantime, Lisette is serving the refreshments with that refinement that defines her in that role and contrasts so strangely with the vulgar words she sometimes uses to express herself.
The three women are comfortably settled in.  Christelle and Lee took their drink while Madame merely amused herself by pushing hers between my thighs, real close to my pubic area.  Even with my eyes looking down, I sense her gaze locked on me.  Her eyes feeding on my body are bothering me more than I had imagined.  The temperature is still mild, in spite of the late hour and I am profusely sweating again.  Even as the pain builds up in my knees, I try to appear unaffected, admiring the long nails of her hand, which remind me of claws, and her finely chiseled wrist around which she is wearing a gold bracelet certainly worth a lot more than what I can imagine in my wildest dreams.
Her glass is filled with ice cubes and tiny droplets of condensation are showing all around it.  Her fingers are still holding it when she cries out:
“My poor child, you’re bleeding!”  Her tone of voice shows indignation that I hesitate to qualify as faked.  Using a fingertip, she removes delicately a bit of blood from my left knee and puts it in her mouth.  “Luckily, we have a doctor on board.”  This time, no doubt about it, her words have no other meaning but to mock me.
Probably not wanting to miss a moment of the performance about to take place, Lee has moved closer.  “Oh but I didn’t bring with me the tools that such a delicate procedure would require.  And what if we called the firemen?”  They burst out laughing.
“Good idea, that way we could kill two birds with one stone.  They could put out the flames that we haven’t succeeded in controlling.”  While saying that, Madame moves her glass and makes it slide very slowly in the direction of my boiling sex.  For what seems like an eternity, I see it get closer and closer until it comes into contact with my pubic area.
“Spread them better than that Sandrine, otherwise how do you expect us to operate if you don’t help a little.”  New roars of laughter, all around this time.
“Wait, I’ll help you,” says the Doctor with a playful voice, sneaking her hands between my thighs to spread out my intimate lips.
With a small rotating motion, Madame pushes the glass against the interior of my sex, carefully maintaining the contact between the cold surface and my flesh.
Overtaken by these events, I start to whimper.  My heart beats at the pulse of the pleasure growing in my belly.
“Fire! Call the firemen…” Christelle starts signing, generating a new wave of laughter all around.
Lee has pressed her glass against my chest and makes it go from my right breast to my let breast.
“I will only stop when those two funny tiny tits no longer taunt me.”
I throw all my efforts in a fight to remain in the required position.  The more the icy contact spreads over my sexual organs, the more sweat is dripping down my forehead, revealing the tremendous pleasure running through my veins.  The beating of my heart increases to match my breathing.  I close my eyes to better concentrate on the orgasm I feel burgeoning in my stomach.
The perfume of Madame makes me open them again.  Her mouth is moving closer to mine.  I prepared so much for this magical moment that I close my eyes again while opening my mouth.  At the last moment, she turns to lick my temple.  I must wait mouth open, looking as silly as a goldfish waiting for its food from inside its bowl, frustrated from not receiving that kiss she is refusing me.
“Don’t worry my darling, the doctor will take care of you,” she whispers in my ear before finally and unequivocally putting her lips on mine.  My heart races.  The freshness of her mouth, her perfume, the softness she uses to take hold of me make my head spin.  As in a dream, I close my eyes and feel her delicately peck at my lips with an infinite tenderness which fulfills me beyond anything I could have imagined.  Her lips land hermetically on mine in a long caress that brings my sensual pleasure to new heights.  Her tongue takes possession of mine and leads it in a devilish dance that empties my mind.  Forgotten, the pain on my knees, my uncomfortable position, the humiliation brought on by the presence of the three women both spectators and partners in crime of my degradation.  Nothing else matters except for that mouth and that wonderful tongue that are inevitably taking me to ecstasy.  When her hand slides up the length of my thigh, I can’t stop myself from spreading wide so as to offer her those virgin territories I have guarded for so long.  In my mind, there is no objection to the idea that she and she alone will allow me to reach this bestial pleasure I’ve suppressed deep within my libido all this time.
The feeling, so delicious, of her hand between my thighs generates such a powerful contraction in my stomach that it knocks the wind right out of me.  My nipples are so sensitive, they’re hurting me.  When her finger circles the center of my most intimate part expertly, an uncontrollable shaking runs through my arms.  I am so wet that I have the feeling she is sliding that finger inside my flesh as easily as if it had been covered with butter.
Unable to hold back, I let out a moan of joy that she stifles with her lips.  Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through my clitoris.  She has just pinched it with her nails.  The shaking in my arms now runs through my entire body.  She grabs my left tit.  My breathing becomes faster.  Everything around me starts spinning.  Her fingers roughly tighten their grip, twisting the pointed extremity of my breast, sending electric currents across my chest.  The groan of pleasure filling my chest locks my mouth to hers.  The pain creates a devastating orgasm, a pleasure of unequal violence that explodes inside my entire being, sparing no part, turning all my beliefs on their head.  The feeling of her torturing fingers and of her cuddling mouth on me makes me forget all other sensations, leaving me unaware of the powerful cramp which, in a flash, bites the muscle of my right calf.  My scream becomes a roar. It escapes unconsciously.  Everything goes black.
A cold sensation on my right knee makes me come back to reality.  Assaulted by a bright light, I blink my eyes several times before keeping them opened.  I am lying down on the sofa.  Doctor Lee, kneeling at my feet, is pressing down on a compress soaking with an icy product that brings relief to my sore knee.  I raise my eyes, Madame caresses my cheeks and a soft breeze generated by the air that she blows on my forehead cools me down wonderfully.  To add to my bliss, my head is resting on her thighs and her large blue eyes are keenly looking at me with benevolence.
“How are you feeling my darling?”
Dumbfounded by so much concern, I collect my wits about before answering her.
“I am fine, thank you Madame.”
She leans down on my face and places a kiss on my forehead.
“Get some rest, you had enough emotions for now.”
Her hand wanders to my chest and absent-mindedly caresses my small breasts, making my nipples stand out in no time.
“What good health!  I’ve never seen anything like it.”  With a radiant smile, I shiver from the contact from Doctor Lee while she gives me medical care.  “Tonight, my pretty one, you sleep in my bed.”
These words make me feel better than anything the nice doctor does for me.  “However, there is something that bothers me…  A while back, Lisette and you took a shower, didn’t you?”
“Yes Madame.”
“Then she cut your hair the way I asked her.  Am I wrong?”
“No Madame.”
“Lisette, come closer please, I have a few questions for you.”
The young girl comes and kneels near us.
“Tell me girl, what time was it when you reached the pool?”
“A quarter to ten, Madame.”
“That means a fifteen minute gap, doesn’t it?”
“Yes Madame.”
“How many minutes do you think you needed to refresh the pubic area of Sandrine?”
Right away, I know where she’s going.  Lisette takes longer to get it.
“I don’t know Madame.  A few minutes I think.”
“Good.  Move closer a little bit,” she says grabbing her by the hair and forcing her to lean her face above my Mount of Venus.  “What do you notice?”
Instantaneously the face of the little maid breaks down.  “Her pubic hairs have started growing again Madame.”  By her tone of voice, it’s clear that she has just realized.  “I… I should have shaved her,” she says lowering her head.
“It’s unacceptable, girl.”  Madame brings her glass to her lips and drinks a few sips from it, making the suspense last.  “You too will spend the night with me… But not in my bed.”  Lisette turns white.
“As you wish, Madame.”
“Yes Madame.”
“Bring her to my room and prepare her please.  Position #10, eyes blindfolded.  You can play with her a little while you’re waiting for me.  But be careful, no marks.”
“Very well Madame.”
Lisette lost her composure when she heard the orders.  With a heavy heart, I see jogging pitifully behind Christelle who doesn’t hide her satisfaction.

Next: Lisette’s torment.

Please, let comments at :

I’ll be glad to read them.

You can find original illustrations for any chapter on my site :

Review This Story || Email Author:

Похожие новости

Crescent moon tumblr
Beautiful green wedding dresses 2018
Stiletto nails with crosses photo
Stacy adams mens dress shoes 2018
Most beautiful decoration on christmas 2018
Cute country concert outfits for winter photo
Hip hop fashion women photo
Evelyn lozada engagement ring 2018