Enslaved Chapter 53 free porn video

“Enjoy yourself?”
“You bet!”
Melissa smiled at Quentin. “I thought Julia put up a good performance,” she said.
Julia was, in fact, serving them their customary evening drinks out on the patio. Quentin patted her bottom as she bent over to re-fill his glass. “So did I,” he smiled. “If you like that thing up your arse so much, you must have it there more often.”
“Thank you, Master,” said Julia deferentially.
“Go and fetch it now, slave” came the order from Melissa.
“Yes, Mistress... ” Julia hurried away.
“What did you do with her?” asked Melissa.
“I fucked her.”
“I thought you might, somehow. That’s why I left you in peace.”
“Thanks... ”
“Different tactics this time.”
“I like a bit of variety.”
“Any good?”
“No not really. But very enjoyable in its way.”
Melissa nodded. “May I suggest, my dear, that next time, you get her warmed up first by Hans or Cassim. Or both for that matter.”
“What a good idea!” replied Quentin. Mmm... yes... it was. He liked the idea of watching the two studs have Simone. Then finding her warm and juicy for him. What a clever wife Melissa was!
Julia returned, carrying the big black rubber dildoe with its bell at the end. Her face was tense and she was biting her lower lip. She knew they knew just how much she hated this!
“Down,” ordered Melissa.
Julia got down on all fours and pushed up her behind conveniently for Melissa. The dildoe was positioned and Melissa forced it slowly but strongly in. A wailing cry came from Julia... and it grew louder as the dildoe penetrated deeper and deeper. She shuddered convulsively as she waited for the order to rise.
“There... ” said Melissa, as if she had done Julia a good turn.
“Lucky girl,” grinned Quentin.
“Wag it,” said Melissa.
Julia’s shapely posterior wagged to and fro. The little bell tinkled. 
“Very pretty,” said Quentin.
“Alright, up you get, slave.”
Gasping, Julia got stiffly to her feet and, walking uncomfortably, retired into the background.
“Sometimes, Melissa,” said Quentin gravely, “I think you spoil that girl.”
His wife tittered like a schoolgirl. “You may be right, Quentin... you may well be right,” she said.

After dinner, Quentin accompanied Melissa on a brief tour of the cellars. First they visited Maria’s cell.
Still in a state of shock following her merciless thrashing, the girl did not kneel erect when they entered but, in view of her condition, this lapse was excused. She was lying face down on her bunk... and Quentin gave a low whistle when he saw the state of her bottom.
“Wwwhhheee... you certainly gave her something to remember!”
“She deserved it,” said Melissa flatly. She looked down at her handiwork, seeing many of the weals now purple, some black.
Maria stirred, groaning. But she did not attempt to get up. She was too weak for that. She simply wishes she could die.
“Disobedience?” queried Quentin.
Melissa explained her failure to suck Cassim to a proper conclusion.
“Not for the first time, I say,” she added. „However, I don’t think she’ll give any more trouble in that connection.”
“Nor do I!” said Quentin. It was delightful to know that all this was being done for his benefit. So that this ripely curvaceous teenager could give him the maximum pleasure!
They left the cell and entered Heidi’s.
Immediately they did so, they heard loud, whimpering-snorting noises.
“I say... I say... what’s this then? Girl been talking out of turn?
“Correct,” replied Melissa grimly.
Heidi had knelt up on her plank-bunk, hands holding the iron cage over her head, shaking it from side to side. The urgent whimpering went on and, through the grille, they could both see her mad-staring blue eyes.
“She doesn’t appear to like it,” said Quentin.
“I hope not,” said Melissa. “The girl was most insulting to me. Even called me a murderess.”
“Indeed? Disgraceful!” The cage shook violently from side to side again. “I think she’s asking you to take it off.” This time there was a violent nodding of the cage.
“Really?”
Nod... nod... nod... 
“Yes... ”
Oh those beseeching eyes!
“Pity. It’s not coming off until tomorrow morning. And after that, she gets a good thrashing.”
Poor Heidi slumped down on the hard bunk, the iron cage clanging.
“You’re in charge, Melissa.”
“Oh yes, I’m in charge. I think Heidi will keep control of her tongue in future.”
“Quite so... ”
The couple strolled from the cell; closed the door, locked and bolted it.
Heidi would be left alone in her hideous, choking torment until the following morning.

“Feel like gambling?” asked Quentin when they were up in the house again.
“Yes, I do rather.” Out of the corner of her eye, Melissa saw Julia give a quick shudder... knowing that, once again, the wheel would be spinning for her later that night. Anything from Zero to 36! “Slave, fetch my mink wrap!”
“At once, Mistress... ” As Julia ran to a wardrobe, the little bell tinkled. Quentin couldn’t help smiling. He guessed Melissa was going to leave that thing up her slave all the time she was out! Julia came back, breasts bouncing. “Sh-Shall I... may I... put it on, Mistress?”
“Of course, you stupid bitch!”
Julia d****d the wrap over Melissa’s smooth white shoulders. She was looking radiant in a low-cut, full-length gown of ice-blue. What a picture those two lovely women made, thought Quentin!
One at the peak of power, beautifully gowned, proud, confident and commanding - his wife.
The other at the nadir of her existence, naked, degraded, cringing, submissively obedient - his wife’s slave.
And it was all due to him.
Another most satisfying thought.
“Shall we be off then, my dear?”
“I’m ready. No... wait a moment. I’ll go and chain Julia in my lavatory... ”
“Certainly,” grinned Quentin. It was one of Melissa’s favourite places for keeping Julia in when she was not required.
“Off you go, girl... ”
Julia’s bottom undulated seductively across the room. Slave she might be, degraded she might be, but she still had beauty and she moved with natural charming grace. Quentin watched the inch or so of protruding black dildoe swinging from side to side, surrounded by the quivering nates. The girl disappeared from view and Melissa followed. Quentin sighed contentedly.
Who, at one time, would ever have thought Julia would come to this!

That evening, Melissa won over 20,000 Euro. Not that she needed the money; but it was nice all the same. Quentin was playing Baccarat and, the last time Melissa had visited the table, seemed to be winning also.
At around 1 am, Melissa began to feel rather tired. She decided it was time for a final spin. Julia’s spin. She placed her bets.
“Rien va plus,” said the croupier.
The wheel spun. The ball clicked and bounced.
“Cinque... rouge... impair... ” came the announcement.
Melissa clapped her hands together. Five was one of her numbers and she had had a 100 Franc chip on. Another 3,500 Euro won. Lucky for Julia, too, reflected Melissa. Just five strokes of the rod when she got back!
“I’ve had enough, darling. Going home... ”
Quentin nodded. “Take the car,” he said. “I’ll get a cab.”
“Thanks... see you in the morning. Night... ”
“Night... ”
Melissa drove the Mercedes home at a fast pace. She liked driving, especially at night. Suddenly she realised she wasn’t feeling tired any more. It must have been the balmy night air reviving her. She began to think about the day just gone. Thrashing Maria. Putting the head-cage on Heidi. Seeing the horror on the new slave’s face when Julia was brought in.
All great fun.
There they were, all four women, enduring different degrees of mental and physical torment.
Simone’s physical suffering would be the least but, as a newcomer, her mental suffering would probably be the greatest.
Maria and Heidi would be matching each other stride for stride, mentally and physically. Maria with her bottom on fire, Heidi, with jaw stretched, choking on an iron gag. And as for Julia, she, experienced as she was, would still be hating the dildoe thrust up her and trembling inwardly as she waited for her Mistress’s return... wondering what the wheel of fortune had brought her.
It was delightful to contemplate such things, knowing it was she who was free and had the power. Melissa became aware that she was feeling rather randy. Not Quentin... and she didn’t particularly fancy Julia’s attention. What then? Her mind turned suddenly to Hans and Cassim. One of those young bucks would do nicely, she thought. Yes... why not? Melissa drove a little faster as she approached the ‘Maison Juane’.

“Bottom up, slave!”
Julia adopted the required posture, kneeling on the hard, cold tiles of the lavatory. Unceremoniously, Melissa yanked out the dildoe. Julia screamed. It was almost as painful out as going in!
Melissa’s cane tapped the curving bottom.
Clench... clench... went the soft nates. Melissa grinned. Julia was taut as a bowstring. Understandably. For all she knew, she might be about to get thirty six strokes!
“You’re lucky tonight, slave,” she said. “Five only.”
One could see the tension seep out of Julia. Five was almost like a bonus to someone of her experience. She even thrust her bottom a little higher, as if eager to receive.
Slowly and methodically, Melissa laid on the strokes with all the force at her command. Julia took them exceedingly well. No more than a little gasp at each and, though her bottom made a quick little juddering squirm as the cane bit, she kept it high and fully presented throughout.
Melissa tossed aside the cane and strode out. As far as she was concerned, Julia could stay there for the night. Then she picked up the house phone by her bed and dialled a number. He’ll be asleep, she thought, but no matter. After all, he was a servant. And, besides, most men would be delighted.
“Yes?” A drowsy voice.
“Hallo, is that Cassim?”
“Yes... who is that, please?”
“Mrs Osman... ”
“Oh yes, Ma’am. What can I do for you?” Melissa was pleased to hear the Lebanese at once come on the alert.
“Come to my bedroom, Cassim.”
There was little pause. “Very well, Ma’am. If you say so.”
“You know where it is?”
“Yes, Ma’am... ”
Melissa put down the receiver, stood up and unfastened her dress. In a few moments she was stretched naked on the bed. Ah yes... after such a day... a nice fuck would suit her perfectly!
A knock on the door.
“Come in... ”
Cassim entered, wearing only his white satin pouch. What a handsome brute he is, thought Melissa, with his strong Arab features, slim, well-muscled body and coffee-coloured skin. She saw his dark eyes glittering on her body and sensed his nervousness.
“Yes, Ma’am?” he said enquiringly.
Melissa smiled in welcome. “I have sent for you, Cassim,” she said, “because I want you to fuck me.”
Cassim gave a little bow and his hands clenched. “I... if you say so, Ma’am... ” he said. Doubtless he was wondering about Quentin.
“I do,” replied Melissa. “You want to, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, Ma’am. I shall be very honoured.” The nervousness was going; delight and desire were increasing.
“Don’t think of me as your Mistress... but just as a woman who wants a strong young man.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“So take that thing off and come on the bed.”
The pouch came away and Cassim’s prick dangled thickly. Melissa eyed it happily as he slid on to the bed. Then she got hold of it. “This feels nice,” she said. Cassim smiled. What a superb body this woman’s got, he thought. I shall endeavour to give her a very good fucking indeed!
Suddenly, Melissa bent and kissed the prick which lay cradled across the palm of her hand. “I’m going to suck you for a little while,” she said. “Afterwards you will eat me... ”
“Yes, Ma’am... you do me great honour... and I shall be delighted.”
Melissa took the knob in her mouth and began to suck gently. Almost at once she felt the organ beginning to swell. How extraordinary life is, reflected Melissa. When I was first a slave, I was whipped again and again before I would submit to doing this very thing. Yet now I am enjoying it. Equally, tomorrow, Simone would probably feel she would rather die than be fucked by Cassim. Yet, she herself, at that moment, was aching for him.
The difference was, of course... as she had realised before... between being forced to do something and doing it voluntarily. There was, indeed, a vast ocean between the two!
Cassim came to full erection and Melissa went on sucking. How lovely and big he was! It made her feel all hot inside. All the time he was stroking her back with one hand and caressing her breasts with the other. Finally, hearing him starting to breath rather faster, she removed her mouth. She didn’t want him to come to the boil too soon!
“Now get down there,” she said, opening her thighs wide.
“It will be a great pleasure, Ma’am... the very greatest!” And Cassim put his full, thick lips expertly to work. It was some job, he thought, when you not only had the slaves to play with but their Mistress as well!
Three or four minutes later Melissa came to orgasm. As she gasped and cried out ecstatically, it occurred to her that Julia would hear her. So much the better!
“Now fuck me, you big brute,” she sighed.
Cassim’s strong hands went under her buttocks and she was lifted up a little. Then she was entered... slowly but surely... inch by inch. Melissa’s sighs increased, her breasts heaved.
“Oh God... that feels good!”
“I’m glad, Ma’am... ”
“Come on... fuck me! Fuck me hard... come on... I want it... I want it!”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
Cassim clenched his teeth and got down to work, his solid length ramming in forcefully at a fast pace. This woman reminds me of the slave Julia, he thought. But there was much more prestige, as well as pleasure in fucking a woman of this class!
“Lovely... lovely... come on... bang it into me... harder... harder!”
“Yes... Ma’am... yes... ”
Cassim’s haunches began to move even more vigorously. How long was he going to be able to keep this up? The liquid-velvet hotness of this woman was well-nigh intolerably delightful. Did she expect miracles?
“Oh God... that’s good... ohhhh... your prick feels good!” To Cassim’s relief, Melissa began to pant and squirm. Her nails were clawing his back.
“G-Give it me... hhhhaaaahhhhhh... give it m-me... whenever... you like... ”
“Yes, Ma’am... yes... ”
Cassim let down mentally. Thank God for that! Now he could go flat out and really enjoy himself. He squeezed the warm, squirming bottom and raised it higher, ramming away with might and main. Oh what a marvellous fuck this woman was! He hadn’t had such a good one for ages!
“Ahhh... yes... hhhhaaahhhhhh... yes... yes!” Melissa was crying out, her back arching up.
“Yes... aaah... yes... ” panted Cassim in return. He had passed the point of no return... riding in the crest of a wave of exquisite lust.
“NOW... AAAAHHHHH... NOW!” cried Melissa.
“YES... AAAAHHHHH... YES!”
With Melissa squealing... with her lovely body writhing and jerking under him... Cassim came to a simultaneous climax.
“EEEEE... EEEEGGGGH... HHHHHAAAAAHHHHHH... HHHAAAAHHHHH!”
“AHHH... HHHHAAAHHHHH... HHHHAAA... HHHHHAAA... ”
The frenzy finally ceased. Both felt their sweating bodies clinging together. They heard their rasping breath. Their sighs mingled. Softly and gently they kissed.
There as a long silence. Then Cassim spoke. “Excuse me, Ma’am... but what about Mr Osman?”
“What about him?”
“Well... I mean... ”
Melissa smiled and stroked Cassim’s hair. “Oh don’t worry about him,” she said. “My husband fucks who he likes and so do I.”
“Ahh, now I understand.”
“So you see, Cassim, you can stay here and I’ll have a piece of that lovely big prick of yours a little later on.”
“Delighted, Ma’am... ” The handsome Lebanese felt relieved. And exceedingly happy!

Quentin got in late and decided not to use the suite where Simone was being kept. All he wanted to do was sleep, so he chose one of the smaller bedrooms in the house. His new possession would keep till the morning. After all, there was no place for her to go!
Getting up rather later, he showered and then made his way to the breakfast room. Julia was there, fetching some warm croissants and hot coffee to take up to her Mistress. The lovely, but forlorn-looking girl, dropped a curtsey as he entered.
“Have an enjoyable evening?” asked Quentin with bland cruelty.
“Yes, Master,” answered Julia in a low voice. What else could she say? The fiction was that she actually liked that revolting thing within her!
“And what was your lucky number?” enquired Quentin, helping himself to coffee.
“Five, Master... ”
“Oh, that was lucky!” Quentin moved so that he could see Julia’s curvaceous bottom. A bottom he knew so, so well! It was certainly less weal-marked than usual.
“M-May I go now, Master?” Julia was holding a silver salver nervously.
“Yes... you can run along. Don’t want to keep your Mistress waiting, do you?” came the reply.
“No, Master... ” Julia’s reply was fervent.
Quentin watched her leave the room. He could never resist gazing upon that seductively swinging bottom. Seeing it bounce and quiver. Noting the weals encircling it.
It was incredible to realise, he reflected once again, that this woman was the same one who had once been one of the most overweeningly arrogant bitches you were likely to meet!
How low were the mighty fallen... 
A few minutes later Quentin made his way to his main suite and unlocked the outer door. Then he walked stealthily towards the iron-grille door of the converted dressing room where Simone now was.
She was lying on the low trestle bed - which had no sheets or blankets on it - facing the wall. From the iron collar around her neck rant a chain to the wall. Simone’s wrists were manacled to the collar. It was the customary way of chaining up slave-girls whilst they were being trained... and often after training had finished. It emphasised the inescapability of their helpless servitude.
The white shoulder heaved gently. Quentin’s eyes ran down. What a splendidly firm straight back it was... terminating at a slim waist and hip... before the swell of the hindquarters. The curve of Simone’s upper thrust high by reason of the way she was lying on her side.
Was she asleep?
No... he suddenly heard a little sob.
Quentin inserted the key in the lock, and uttering a terrified cry, Simone started violently and half turned round. Her lovely, liquid-brown eyes were wide with fear. She shrank back against the wall.
“NO... OOOOOO... ” It was her first word of the day.
“I trust you are well rested, slave,” said Quentin advancing. If I like, he thought, I can play with those lovely tits... and his right hand went down and fondled them briefly. Instantly Simone twisted herself away as far as she could.
“Don’t touch me... don’t... you monster!” she burst out, her voice hoarse.
Quentin slapped a curving flank. “You’ll have to be taught some manners, young lady, and soon. Still we’ve plenty of time for that.”
“Ooooh... sstoppppp it... stooopppp it... you... you filthy swine!”
Quentin had grabbed Simone by her dark hair and hauled her down so that she was on her back on the bed. Then his right hand began fondling again. Although she twisted and turned, Simone could not escape the mauling... and her juddering breasts only added to Quentin’s pleasure.
“B-Beee... eeeeast! BEEEE... EEEEASTTTT!” she screamed.
It was incredible to her that she did not bury her teeth into those hands. But, somehow, it was impossible for her to do!
“If I want to feel your tits... any time... I will... the sooner you learn that the better... ”
Simone had stopped her protesting cries. She was just sobbing quietly and helplessly. Oh dear God... how could this be happening to her? How could it? How could God allow it?
Somehow, unbelievably, she had fallen into the hands of a sex maniac! Or, rather, the hands of sex maniacs! The horror of it all was utterly overwhelming... 
But what could she do?
Nothing... it seemed... nothing!
“Now, Simone,” said Quentin, seating himself, “you have an awful lot to learn. That’s quite understandable... and it’s not going to be easy, especially for a woman of your background and characteristics. Submission does not come naturally to such as you... ”
A hissing-rattling sound came from Simone’s throat. She was looking at Quentin with eyes of baleful hate, interspersed with flashes of rage.
“... however, submit you will. In the end. You will recall Julia yesterday, of course... ”
Terror flashed into Simone’s eyes and she shuddered.
“Julia was once rather like you,” went on Quentin easily. “But, as you saw, she has changed. Quite remarkably really!”
Simone shuddered again and turned her face away. “You should be struck dead!” Again that low, hoarse voice, vibrant with detestation.
“Maybe,” said Quentin with a little laugh. “However, let us stick to the facts. I hope you now fully realise that all I told you yesterday was true. Naturally, you were rather distraught... again, understandable... and didn’t wish to believe me. But now, I think, you have to. Right?”
Simone made no answer.
Unhurriedly, Quentin stood up, moved across and took hold of Simone’s hair again. And this time, he began to slap her face. Hard.
Left... and right!
Left... and right!
Simone shrieked with shock and pain, her head jerking violently.
Left... and right.
Left... and right!
Then Quentin released her hair and sat down again. Simone, with reddened cheeks, was sobbing uncontrollably, breasts heaving.
“When I ask you a question, slave, you answer it!” said Quentin firmly.
“Mmmfff... mmmffff... mmmffff... ”
“Do you hear me?”
Simone didn’t answer directly. She raised her head slightly. “Y-You... coward... you... striking a... d-defenceless... woman... ”
Quentin smiled faintly. “Words will never hurt me,” he said. Then he leant forward. “Let me tell you, slave, if it goes on happening, it won’t be just my hand you’ll be feeling, but something considerably more painful!”
The dark eyes were raised and lowered quickly. The hate, mingled with fear, blazed.
“Oh help me someone... help me... please... ooohhh... please... ” moaned Simone. She was alternating between outer-aggression towards Quentin and an inner-weakness. Rather a familiar pattern for a woman in her situation, as Quentin knew.
“No one is coming to help you,” said Quentin flatly. “Best to make your mind up about that.”
“Mmmmfff... u-u-ugghhh... mmmmmffff... u-u-ugghhh... ”
“Unfortunate for you, but true.”
“U-U-Uggghhhh... uuuuugggghhhhhhhh... ”
“Now slave, we come to an important point. Your first punishment.”
For a moment, Simone went still, then she continued to sob heart-rendingly. “U-U-Uggghhh... u-u-ugggghhh... u-u-ugggghhhh... ”
“Yesterday,” said Quentin, “you spat on your Master. An outrageous thing. Even for a novice. So you are going to be punished for it. Not too severely... but adequately. It will be a taste of what you can expect in future whenever you do not behave yourself, or if you are disobedient.”
“Stop it... STOOOPPPP... I can’t stand any more of this! Oooohhh... stoppp... oooppppp!”
Quentin stood up. How he loved to hear those terrified cries! To see this once-proud woman’s distress! This was just what he wanted... oh yes, yes, yes!
“You’re going back into the pillory,” he said, “but, this time, you won’t be fucked, you’ll be caned!”
“Stooo... opp it... stooo... opppp... you’re mad! Oooohhhh... how can you say such things... you can’t mean it... you C-CAAAANN’TT!”
“Come along, my beauty... ” Quentin unlocked the chain from the ring on the wall. Then he hauled Simone off the bed.
“AAAAGGGGGHHH... NO... OOOOOOO!”
The top half of the pillory was open and ready. Simone’s neck went into it... and down the top of the pillory came. There was no need, on this occasion, to make use of the wrist-holes. Simone’s wrists were shackled to her collar.
“There... ” sighed Quentin. The lovely hindquarters curved up invitingly over the leathern squab. Ready for him.
“NOOO... OOOOOO... NO... OOOO... LET ME OUT... NO... OOOO... OOOOHHHHH... NO... OOOOOOO... ”
Simone’s cries echoed round the room. She twisted and turned frantically. And quite uselessly, of course. She simply could not believe it was all happening. Yet it was! Yes... it was impossible! Yet it was happening!
With slow-throbbing relish, Quentin went to the cabinet where the instruments of correction were stored. He selected one of the lighter canes. Three feet of slim, whippy willow. Just the thing for a beginner! He came back so that Simone could see him in the mirror before her. Then he slashed the can through the air. The thin rod whistled shrilly and Simone’s eyes dilated.
“Your first punishment, slave,” smiled Quentin. He looked down at the softly-swelling bottom... a virgin to pain.
“Y-You can’t do this to me... you c-can’t... YOU CAN’T! Ooooh... you can’t beat a h-h-helpless... w-w-woman... ”
“Can’t I?” The cane swished menacingly again.
“NO... OOOOO... STOOO... OPPP... oooooh... God... p-pleeeasse!”
“Slave,” said Quentin severely, “you spat upon your Master. That is a serious offence. So you are going to be punished for it. Any repetition, and you will be punished more severely... ”
“NO... OOOOOOOO!”
“Also, slave, while you are being punished, realise it is a mild punishment compared with those you can get... ”
“NO... OOOOOOOOO!”
“... if you misbehave... if you disobey... “ Quentin was looking down at his victim... seeing her luscious hindquarters thrusting up towards him. He measured the twisting bottom, lightly touching the quivering white flesh.
“NO... OO... YOU CAN’T... NOT ME... NO... YOU CAN’T... STOO... OOPPP!”
Quentin raised the rod and lashed it down across Simone’s bottom.
Her first stroke... 
Her first taste of pain... 
There was the thin weal. Bright pink. Encircling the squirming nates.
Quentin was aware, as he gazed down in delight, that Simone’s cry had been shrill. Disbelieving.
“That hurt, didn’t it, young Lady?”
“Uuurff... urrff... oohh... you devil... oooh ..;. you devil... ”
“You are going to regret that you spat upon your Master.”
“Never... oooohhhh... never!”
Quentin was enchanted by this revival of spirit. It was just what he wanted! Slowly he measured the lovely, thrusting bottom again.
“Never?” he queried.
“Aaaaaagghhh... NEVER!” shrieked Simone eyes wild, twisting and turning from side to side.
Quentin gave her another hard-slashing cut... and Simone shrieked with pain, squirming convulsively. Yet her fury at this treatment overcame her pain.
“DEVIL... DEVIL... OHHH... YOU DEVIL!” Simone’s features were a frenzy of fury. She was quite beside herself that such a monstrosity was being perpetrated upon her!
Frankly, Quentin could not have asked for a better reaction. This woman certainly had spirit.
“I am going to give you a dozen, slave,” he said... and instantly lashed down the third stroke.
Simone uttered a gasping-shriek and squirmed. Being quite unused to such pain, it was simply impossible, despite all her hate, rage and determination, for her to check that cry. How dearly she wished she could, for Simone realised this was what her tormentor wanted to hear.
“I’ll kill you for this!” she groaned, eyes blazing out from the mirror. It seemed a favourite theme, thought Quentin. It was a very understandable desire.
“I expect you’d like to,” he said with a smile. He raised the cane and made as if to lay on, checking the stroke however. Simone’s nates contracted convulsively in anticipation and her bottom twisted half over. It was a delectable sight for Quentin, who gave her the fourth stroke as Simone twisted back again.
“Ahh... oowww... oh you’re h-hurting me... oooohhh... you swine!”
“I should hope so. That’s the idea.”
“You filth... ”
“You’re going to be taught to guard your tongue shortly,” said Quentin laying on the fifth stroke as hard as he could.
This produced the loudest shriek yet from Simone... but an even louder one followed as the sixth stroke lashed down, equally hard, a moment later. And how she squirmed... soft bottom juddering uncontrollably!”
“Oooohhh... st-stooo... oppp... that’s enough... enough... ”
“You’re getting a dozen, slave... and you can think yourself lucky. And, afterwards, you’ll apologise.”
Blazing rage. “N-NEVER!” screeched Simone, teeth bared, mouth a wide slit.
“Never?”
“NEVER!”
“I suppose you’d do it again if you could?”
“You... pig... I would... yes... YES... I would spit on you again, cochon!”
What courage! What spirit! But how fool-hardy! Quentin was absolutely delighted.
“Well, well,” he said. “I think it’s about time I really made you feel it, my beauty.”
He measured the twisting, quivering bottom... and then laid on six full-blooded strokes in quick succession. A cacophony of breathless-gasping screams rose up... growing ever louder and more anguished... as Simone squirmed frenziedly. At the end she was sobbing unashamedly.
“N-No... mmmmfff... m-more... ooohhh... no... more... mmmff... uuugh... p-please... no... m-more... ” For a moment, her resolve had weakened.
“Apologise,” said Quentin, lightly tapping the quaking buttock-cheeks.
The rage, the hate, came back. Apologise to such a monster!
“NEVER!” came the shriek.
Quentin gave Simone a good hard cut... and this time the shriek was of pain. The lovely bottom, he saw, was getting nicely striped, the weals crossing each other haphazardly in view of the amount of movement available to Simone’s hindquarters.
“Apologise,” repeated Quentin.
The teeth clenching. “N-No... n-never... ”
Another good hard cut... 
“Yyyaaiiieeee... oh s-stop it... you d-devil!”
“Apologise... ”
“NO... NO .. OOO... NO... OOOOO!”
Two good hard cuts in quick succession. Two piercing shrieks... Simone’s eyes were wild with pain. Once again her resolve was slipping.
“Apologise,... ”
This time, Simone said nothing. But her eyes closed and her head drooped. Quentin laid on two more hard cuts across the clenching nates. He, needless to say, was happy to on in this fashion indefinitely! Perhaps Simone sensed it. Realised her stubbornness was only adding to Quentin’s pleasure.
“Apologise... ”
“I... aah... I a-apologise,” came a whisper.
“Louder... ”
“Oh you swine! I a-apologise,” The voice was stronger.
“Master... ”
Oh the fury in those wide-set eyes! Silence... the teeth clenched fiercely again.
This time, three cuts came in quick succession, to set Simone writhing frantically again.
“YYYAAIIIE... AAAAGHHHHHHH... YYYAAAGHHH... ST-STOO... OPPP... no... m-more... no... M-Master... M-Master!”
Quentin smiled contentedly. The first lesson. The first submission. Excellent. And so delightful. Simone’s head was down again and she was sobbing unrestrainedly. She, too, knew she had been made to submit. And she hated herself for it. Almost as much as she hated the monster who had temporarily broken her.
But what else could I do, she asked herself?
The b**st could have gone on for ever... 
“You could have save yourself those extras,” said Quentin coolly, watching the flesh of the curving nates continue to twitch under the incessant stabbing-burning pain. It would be pain all the more fierce for one completely inexperienced.
“Mmmmffff... ugh... mmmmfff... ugh... oh... G-God... h-how... can you d-d-do... ooo... it... uuuuggghhh... ”
Oh that lovely bottom... what a sight it was!
“Let me tell you something, Simone,” said Quentin. “The caning you have just had is nothing compared with what you can get... and will get if your behaviour does not rapidly improve!”
“Ogghh... stop it... stooo... oppp... ooohhh... let me out of her... for God’s s-sake let me out!”
“Oh no, slave. On the contrary. Your punishment continues. You’re staying there for a couple of hours... ”
“NOOO... OOOOO... YOU C-CAN’T... ”
“... to contemplate the error of your ways... and your future.”
Quentin moved a four-foot high mirror behind Simone, turning it at a slight angle so that she would be able to see her own weal-striped buttocks reflected.
“L-LET ME OUT... OOOHH... LET ME OUT... HELP... OOOHHH... HELPPPP SOMEONE... OOOHHH... SOMEONE HELP ME!”
“Your first taste of discipline, my beauty,” smile Quentin.
“OOGGH... FOR GOD’S SAKE... OOOGHH... OH YOU SWINE... YOU DEVIL... LET ME OUT!”
Quentin was moving towards the grille door. He unlocked it. “And when I return, slave, I shall have a treat for you. You might like to spend part of the time trying to guess what it is!”
Great retching sobs came from Simone as she burst into a fresh flood of tears.
Thus began her first lesson...