Enslaved on an Alien World Ch 02
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Enslaved Chapter 43 free porn video
After a couple of visits to the Carmargue area, Quentin and Melissa decided they had found what they wanted. It was a rambling 18th century farmhouse which had been considerably extended in the 19th century.
“Four reception rooms... eight bedrooms... servants quarters... usual offices... ” said Melissa reading from the particulars an agent had given them.
“Even more important,” smiled Quentin, “large wine cellarage space.”
“Quite so,” nodded Melissa.
“Not too difficult to convert. Though it will take a bit of time”
“Madame Vesta’s ‘heavies’ ought to be able to cope... ”
“When are they arriving?” asked Quentin.
“In a week’s time.”
“Good... if they’re suitable, they can get down to work right away.”
“What are the boundaries like? Did you take a look?”
“Not all the way round. But they look first class. High brick wall. And there’s a kind of lodge... so we can arrange the same kind of set-up at Cragness for deliveries and so on.”
“All pretty secure then,” said Melissa.
“It will be very secure by the time we’ve finished,” replied Quentin.
The couple were seated on a cool patio at the back of their rented villa. In the distance an old gardener was working.
“That’s fine then,” said Melissa, stretching luxuriously. She was wearing a flimsy dress of pale lemon-yellow... and practically nothing else.
Quentin yawned. “I think I might play a little Bridge this afternoon,” he said. “Have you any plans, my dear?”
Melissa smiled innocently. “I think I might have a fuck,” she answered.
Quentin raised his eyebrows, momentarily taken aback. “Oh?” he queried.
“You heard me. No objections, I hope?”
The middle-aged American pondered it. Absurdly, he realised, he felt slightly jealous. Yet, at one time, it had amused him to watch Melissa being fucked by Ahmed, Jason or anyone else who fancied her.
“No... no... of course not, my dear,” he replied a shade too quickly. “Anyone I know?”
“Certainly not. I wouldn’t do it that way. No... I hire men to entertain me.”
“You’ve done it before then?”
“A couple of times. There’s a woman in Nice who can supply some well-hung studs.”
“I see... ”
“Look, Quentin, you don’t expect me to stand by and watch you fucking young birds... and me to stay ‘faithful’, do you?”
Quentin Osman laughed. Melissa was right. In the first place, although he was good, he couldn’t give this young woman all she wanted. All the more so when he had a couple of slave-girls to hand. So she had every right to go elsewhere if she wanted, hadn’t she?
“Sorry, Melissa,” he said, “I don’t know what came over me. I just think I might mind if it were with people I knew. Friends, you know.”
“Bad for your ‘amour propre’ eh, Quentin?” smiled Melissa. “I understand. But I won’t let you down like that.”
“Thanks.” Quentin stood up. “I’ll be off then.” He smiled down at his enchanting wife. “Enjoy yourself... ”
“You too,” said Melissa, smiling back.
She felt very contented as Quentin disappeared. There’s real Women’s Lib. for you, she thought. The freedom every woman deserved. Then Melissa strolled into the villa and picked up the nearest phone. She dialled.
“Madame Boite?”
“Oui?”
“It’s Mrs. Osman... ”
“Ah... good afternoon, Mrs. Osman. Can I help you?”
“Send something similar.”
“A pleasure madame. I have a young Italian you might enjoy.”
“I leave the choice to you, Madame Boite.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Osman. What time?”
“In about an hour... ”
“Eh bien, Madame.”
Melissa replaced the receiver and made her way to her apartment. There she removed her flimsy dress and stood naked... admiring herself in a full-length mirror from various angles. She liked what she saw. Incredible, she thought, that not long ago, she had had to give this to anyone who wanted it. No longer though. Now she was in the driving seat. She sat down and put on a pair of open-work golden sandals with very high heels. Then she went over and stretched out on her very wide bed, looking up at the ceiling mirror. I’ll make him go down to me first, she thought. For ages...
Her hand went out to the CD by the bedside. It would be amusing to listen to Rosalie being thrashed again. Melissa turned the volume up loud and soon the room was filled with the sound of the whistling switch and Rosalie’s agonised shrieks of torment.
Soon, almost u*********sly, Melissa found her fingers playing.
She came to a shuddering climax just before the end of the CD. Then she lay there relaxed, revelling in the pleasure of her power. She had just ordered a man and, the previous evening, she had sent Miss Judith a cable asking for the three assistants to be flown to Nice Airport. And she had added that, the next time Rosalie was on Report, and to be punished, she was to receive a breast-caning. Twenty or twenty five strokes. Melissa left it to Judith...
Melissa sighed and gently caressed her own superbly shaped orbs.
Perhaps, she said to herself, Rosalie has erred today.
Perhaps she will get that cruel caning tonight!
„What is your name?”
“Aldo, Madame.”
“You are Italian?”
„Yes, Madame.”
Melissa still lay naked on the bed and she could see the handsome young man’s eyes hot upon her body. Her maid had let him into the ante-room and then discreetly and quickly left.
“Take off your clothes, Aldo.”
“Yes, Madame.”
Aldo found himself rather shaken. And puzzled. Usually he had to please fat, ugly, middle-aged women. Why did this ravishing creature have to hire a man? It didn’t make sense. Aldo removed his final garment and placed it carefully away... then he stood naked. And stood proud.
“Mmmm...” said Melissa, after a prolonged stare. “Not bad... ”
Aldo smiled happily. “I am glad I please you, Madame,” he said and took a step towards the bed.
Melissa held up a hand and he halted. She pointed to a pile of Francs on the dressing-table.
“Those are for you, if you please me,” she said. It was important that she established completely that she was buying this man. That, for a brief while, she owned him. Understandably, for Melissa, that was a most gratifying sensation.
“Thank you, Madame, you are most kind,” mumbled Aldo. He hated that part of it; just wishing to be the handsome Latin lover.
“Also, Aldo,” went on Melissa, “you will do nothing... absolutely nothing... I do not order you to do. I am in charge and you will do as I say. I want none of your romantic Italian bravura.”
“I... I understand, Madame,” nodded Aldo, looking a little crestfallen. Still in all honesty, he had little to complain about... with this lovely woman to service.
“You will begin by tonguing me,” said Melissa. “Do not touch me with your hands. Just with your mouth and tongue.”
“Very well, Madame...”
Melissa settled herself comfortably on a pile of pillows and opened her thighs. Aldo slid between them. His mouth pressed his tongue probed.
Soon Melissa uttered a long shuddering sigh.
Aldo was very good, she realised. But she said nothing. Then, in a little while, she came to orgasm. Aldo slowed, then stopped, but kept his mouth gently pressed. Still Melissa said nothing. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of relaxation, pressing her thighs closer to Aldo’s face. I’ll keep him there, she thought, just for as long as I want. Until I want him to do it again.
She almost got as much pleasure from the power of being able to do that as anything else!
A little over half an hour later, after being brought to a second climax in the same fashion, Melissa ordered Aldo onto his back on the bed. These were virtually the first words she had spoken... although Aldo had attempted, on several occasions, words of praise and endearment - only to be perfunctorily silenced.
The powerful organ rose up, long and solid, quivering a little. Melissa fondled it casually, rather as if it were a toy. Her lovely face was almost expressionless. I can take this... or I can reject it... she said to herself. And oh how important it was to be able to do just that! Oh how utterly delightful!
I’ll take it, she said to herself, with a secret inner smile.
Then she rose up, straddled Aldo’s strong young body and sank down on to the rampant erection.
“Ahhhhhh....” she sighed happily.
“M-Madame... ahh...Madame... lovely... Lady... ”
“Shut up!” snapped Melissa. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
Then, with an easy-swinging, rhythmic movement, she began to ride her stallion...
It was lucky for Aldo that, Melissa being already so stimulated, she did not need him to remain in erection long. She came to a final all-absorbing climax just in time for him. The young man, panting and sweating with the efforts of control, did not think he could have held out a moment longer!
A week later, Quentin Osman had bought the house they had seen in the Carmargue. It was a cash deal - in dollars. He spent an afternoon there, studying the cellars and roughly sketching out the alterations that would be required. It would not take long to make the whole place quite secure. Nor would it take long to make it adequately usable - and they could make improvements as time went by.
Melissa had Madame Vesta’s personnel picked up at the airport and then interviewed them at the villa individually. The particulars she took and the notes she made at the time will be of interest.
ZELDA
Aged 28. Anglo-Turkish.
Tall, powerful-looking woman. An ideal dominatrix type, in my view.
Black-haired (with a touch of grey). Almond eyed, high cheekbones (the Turkish side of her). Wide mouth, but thin lipped. Smiles rarely... and then it is only a kind of automatic movement
with her mouth. Never smiles with her dark, oily eyes.
Very respectful to me but I could well imagine she could put the fear of God into anyone in her power.
So I much approved of her!
Has been in the service of Madame Vesta for four months. Learnt ‘the tricks of the trade’ from Miss Judith (a recommendation in itself!).
Confessed she enjoyed her work exceedingly.
Also confessed she is now 100% lesbian - although she had made some use of men in her early days.
A few years ago, she had worked in Paris as a professional dominatrix. Not of women - but of men! She confessed she enjoyed that too, but nowhere near as much as dominating women. Especially young women.
When I told her her future charges would be eighteen and nineteen, she was evidently delighted. She said, at first, she had been reluctant to leave the ‘Paradise’ but this news made things look rather different.
She has a variety of ‘uniforms’ and some equipment following on another flight.
We got on well from the outset and I think we shall continue to do so. It was pretty obvious to me that Madame Vesta had said nothing to her of my previous experiences. Which, I think, is all for the best under the circumstances.
HANS
Aged 25. German.
Your original blonde Nordic male - the type Hitler planned to breed his Master Race from!
Pale blue eyes to go with it. Yet for all his good looks, there is a certain dumbness about this man. He is probably as thick as he looks. However, he is certain to obey orders and be ‘faithful unto death’!
Seemed absolutely unconcerned when I told him to strip. He is very well hung, as are all Madame Vesta’s male assistants. Hans was equally unconcerned when I ordered him to bring himself to erection - by hand. When he had done so, I measured him. Eight inches - and thickly girthed with it. Quite a formidable prospect for a teenager!
Six months service and has worked mainly as assistant to Zelda.
He is unimaginative, but obviously thorough.
He will do.
CASSIM
Aged 26. Lebanese.
Again, quite handsome, but in a very different way to Hans.
He is olive-skinned... with a rather oily appearance.
Thinnish, sallow features. Hard jaw, cruel mouth. One can see the Arab in him.
Equally unconcerned when I told him to strip. I was surprised to find he had no body hair at all! He explained that he had very little anyway, and preferred to remove what was left and keep his skin soft with oils and lotions. It gives him a slightly bizarre appearance. Like Hans, he was unconcerned about masturbating before me.
He turned out to be even longer than Hans - nine inches - but, on the other hand, was not quite so thickly girthed.
The girls will have a choice!
A Hobson’s choice!
Surprisingly, has only served two months on the ‘Paradise’ but, I gathered, had done similar work elsewhere. However, he did not want to talk about this, which is fair enough. He is brighter than Hans and, maybe, more vicious.
He, also, will do. Very well.
“Are you satisfied with your staff, my dear?” asked Quentin.
“Very... ” nodded Melissa.
“Good... good. I like the look of them too. That Zelda is a wicked looking bitch.”
“Isn’t she just! And Hans and Cassim have a lot to recommend them.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll take them all over to Maison Jaune and get them started on the work.”
“Maison Jaune?”
“Yes, that’s the name of our new place. Didn’t you know?”
“As a matter of fact, I didn’t. It’s called that on account of the yellow shutters, I expect.”
“Most likely. Any plans for today, my dear?”
“No... just lounging. Maybe I’ll go to the beach.”
“No fucking?” asked Quentin with a wry little smile. He was only just getting properly used to the idea that Melissa, though his wife, was a completely free woman as far as sex was concerned. And in every other way, if it came to that!
“Possibly. How about you?”
Quentin shrugged. “It might be wise for me to save myself for the new arrivals.”
“Oh, come on, Quentin. You’ve plenty of stamina. Especially with those pills you use.”
Quentin looked pleased. It was always satisfying to have his sexual prowess extolled. “Perhaps I might fuck you,” he said.
“Feel free, husband dear,” replied Melissa. She rose from her chair, strolled sinuously across the room and pressed herself seductively to Quentin. Instantly he felt the surge of desire. Once he could have taken this lovely woman whenever he wished... yet how much more delightful it was to have her offer herself!
“Now?” he murmured, fondling soft breast-fruit.
“Now... ” nodded Melissa.
They moved into Quentin’s bedroom. And soon were locked in panting naked lust...
At about the same time, several hundred miles away, two figures came hurtling down a mountainside on skis. One blue track suit, one red. From the blue streamed, like a flag in the wind, a mass of blond hair; the red wore a white helmet from which only wisps of dark hair fluttered.
The blond was 16-year-old Heidi Baumann; the brunette was 17-year-old Maria, her sister. For the moment, in the exhilaration of their sweeping plunge through the powdery snow, they had not a care in the world. To quote some words of the immortal Thomas Gray: - Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play!
No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today. Breasts heaving, cheeks glowing, eyes glistening, the two young girls finally pulled up at the bottom of a slope. Enchantingly pretty, they looked the epitome of health and happiness. And, needless to say, at the Schloss in which they were staying, they were very much in demand amongst the bronzed, handsome young men also on a ski-ing holiday. But, although Maria and Heidi enjoyed the flattery... and liked being wined, dined and danced... that was as far as they would let these persistent young men go.
“Do you know, Heidi,” Maria had remarked only that very morning, “I think I prefer cock-teasing to a cock itself.”
Heidi had laughed a tinkling laugh. “Oh I agree with you Sis,” she had replied. “What a bore men are. So randy all the time. There seems to be only one thing they want.”
“Yes... they are pretty disgusting.” Maria looked covertly at her younger sister. It was only recently that they had begun to talk about sex at all. “Have you... er...have you... while you have been here?”
Heidi shook her blond head. “No... and I haven’t wanted it either. Too many other things to enjoy. Besides, like you I get a lot of fun out of teasing. You know that great lump of a Yank, name of Wilbur, who thinks he’s God’s gift?”
“Uh-hu...”
“He’s mad about me. Drooling. I think he’d willingly lick my boots for an hour, just for the privilege of getting his hand on it.”
It was Maria’s turn to laugh. “Poor man,” she said.
“Maria,” asked Heidi as they made their way towards the ski-lift. “Would you say we were very pretty?“
“Yes,” came the reply, which sounded without conceit. “Very. And it behoves pretty girls to be more reserved... more choosey... than the less attractive ones. If you want to hook a Count... or some English Lord... the more choosey you are the better.”
Heidi nodded thoughtfully. “Quite so,” she said. And that should not be too difficult, reflected the girl who had permitted only two young men - and then briefly - the honour of pleasing her. She had done so more as an experiment than anything else and had not enjoyed it much at all. She decided then and there that sex was overrated. Maria, who was only a shade more experienced, felt much the same way.
Thus it can be safely said that the Baumann sisters were not experiencing any great difficulty in remaining chaste!
However, although on the surface the lives of the two girls appeared more or less idyllic, it was far from being so. There was one permanent black shadow in their lives... Their step-mother.
Fifteen years younger than their 45-year-old father, she was hated without reserve by the two sisters. That hatred was returned by Magda Baumann in like measure... and it was often almost impossible to hide this ‘electric current’ of virulence from Herr Baumann. Fortunately, he was away a lot, travelling on business. Both sisters became convinced that Magda was not only steadily robbing them of their father’s affection but also that she was physically robbing him of his wealth.
They confronted Magda with it... and the charge was angrily denied. It was at this point that Magda Baumann was fortunate enough to hear of the existence of Madame Vesta and her organisation. At once she began to make arrangements. For the hatred of the two sisters... and the knowledge of her illicit activities they had acquired... made them exceedingly dangerous.
For, of course, though denied, the charges against Magda Baumann were true. She was an out-and-out adventuress, determined to get sole possession of her husband’s considerable fortune. Ruthless in her aims and her actions, she had no compunction in consigning Maria and Heidi to oblivion.
To an existence of unremitting horror.
Indeed, the more she learnt of Madame Vesta’s organisation, the more pleased she was. It will do those two arrogant little bitches good, she told herself. They’ve had it too easy in life. Rich, powerful... fawned on... favoured. Now they would learn another side to things! Whilst she would have her husband all to herself, to twist around her little finger, and suck at his riches like a vampire bat.
She was not aware, however, that her two step-daughters had decided to kill her.
They had agreed their father was too besotted with this evil woman. That he would never believe she would betray him. He was a simpleton ‘in love’. So Magda would have to be disposed of... and the plan was set for when they returned from their ski-ing holiday, whilst their father was still away.
An accidental overdose. For Magda was known to take more than an average number of sleeping pills. Combined with an excess of wine and brandy... well, people can make mistakes...
But ‘the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley.’ Magda was alerted to the plan by her butler (one of her personal retainers) who had overheard it being discussed in what the girls presumed to be the privacy of the conservatory. Needless to say, Magda’s reserve to send the girls to Madame Vesta was strengthened. Moreover, any last qualms of conscience were removed.
Yes... they certainly deserved it...
The only thing that remained was to get a confession from them. Just in case. So she would always be able to prove to her husband just how wicked his two daughters really were. That confession would easily be obtained once they were in Madame Vesta’s hands!
Herr Baumann was returning from Japan in ten days. So quick action became imperative. Madame Vesta was cabled. Two of her agents were speedily despatched to the Austrian Tyrol.
Within a week, the awful tragedy on Lake Lerda was announced.
The silent, upturned yacht...
The pitiful personal possessions drifting in the freezing water...
No sign yet of the bodies...
They may have been sucked down by fierce underwater currents - a feature of Lake Lerda... In any event, a very deep lake...
Doubtless, one day, their horrible bloated corpses would rise to the surface...
But, surely, no one really wanted that. Better to let them lie deep, in peace...
A mourning father returned...
His wife, with glycerine tears, wearing a black veil...
The deed had been done.
Quickly, efficiently, securely. As always, with Madame Vesta’s organisation.
Two senseless bodies lay secure in packing cases, awaiting the signal for despatch to Maison Jaune, the residence of Quentin Osman and his wife Melissa.
“Four reception rooms... eight bedrooms... servants quarters... usual offices... ” said Melissa reading from the particulars an agent had given them.
“Even more important,” smiled Quentin, “large wine cellarage space.”
“Quite so,” nodded Melissa.
“Not too difficult to convert. Though it will take a bit of time”
“Madame Vesta’s ‘heavies’ ought to be able to cope... ”
“When are they arriving?” asked Quentin.
“In a week’s time.”
“Good... if they’re suitable, they can get down to work right away.”
“What are the boundaries like? Did you take a look?”
“Not all the way round. But they look first class. High brick wall. And there’s a kind of lodge... so we can arrange the same kind of set-up at Cragness for deliveries and so on.”
“All pretty secure then,” said Melissa.
“It will be very secure by the time we’ve finished,” replied Quentin.
The couple were seated on a cool patio at the back of their rented villa. In the distance an old gardener was working.
“That’s fine then,” said Melissa, stretching luxuriously. She was wearing a flimsy dress of pale lemon-yellow... and practically nothing else.
Quentin yawned. “I think I might play a little Bridge this afternoon,” he said. “Have you any plans, my dear?”
Melissa smiled innocently. “I think I might have a fuck,” she answered.
Quentin raised his eyebrows, momentarily taken aback. “Oh?” he queried.
“You heard me. No objections, I hope?”
The middle-aged American pondered it. Absurdly, he realised, he felt slightly jealous. Yet, at one time, it had amused him to watch Melissa being fucked by Ahmed, Jason or anyone else who fancied her.
“No... no... of course not, my dear,” he replied a shade too quickly. “Anyone I know?”
“Certainly not. I wouldn’t do it that way. No... I hire men to entertain me.”
“You’ve done it before then?”
“A couple of times. There’s a woman in Nice who can supply some well-hung studs.”
“I see... ”
“Look, Quentin, you don’t expect me to stand by and watch you fucking young birds... and me to stay ‘faithful’, do you?”
Quentin Osman laughed. Melissa was right. In the first place, although he was good, he couldn’t give this young woman all she wanted. All the more so when he had a couple of slave-girls to hand. So she had every right to go elsewhere if she wanted, hadn’t she?
“Sorry, Melissa,” he said, “I don’t know what came over me. I just think I might mind if it were with people I knew. Friends, you know.”
“Bad for your ‘amour propre’ eh, Quentin?” smiled Melissa. “I understand. But I won’t let you down like that.”
“Thanks.” Quentin stood up. “I’ll be off then.” He smiled down at his enchanting wife. “Enjoy yourself... ”
“You too,” said Melissa, smiling back.
She felt very contented as Quentin disappeared. There’s real Women’s Lib. for you, she thought. The freedom every woman deserved. Then Melissa strolled into the villa and picked up the nearest phone. She dialled.
“Madame Boite?”
“Oui?”
“It’s Mrs. Osman... ”
“Ah... good afternoon, Mrs. Osman. Can I help you?”
“Send something similar.”
“A pleasure madame. I have a young Italian you might enjoy.”
“I leave the choice to you, Madame Boite.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Osman. What time?”
“In about an hour... ”
“Eh bien, Madame.”
Melissa replaced the receiver and made her way to her apartment. There she removed her flimsy dress and stood naked... admiring herself in a full-length mirror from various angles. She liked what she saw. Incredible, she thought, that not long ago, she had had to give this to anyone who wanted it. No longer though. Now she was in the driving seat. She sat down and put on a pair of open-work golden sandals with very high heels. Then she went over and stretched out on her very wide bed, looking up at the ceiling mirror. I’ll make him go down to me first, she thought. For ages...
Her hand went out to the CD by the bedside. It would be amusing to listen to Rosalie being thrashed again. Melissa turned the volume up loud and soon the room was filled with the sound of the whistling switch and Rosalie’s agonised shrieks of torment.
Soon, almost u*********sly, Melissa found her fingers playing.
She came to a shuddering climax just before the end of the CD. Then she lay there relaxed, revelling in the pleasure of her power. She had just ordered a man and, the previous evening, she had sent Miss Judith a cable asking for the three assistants to be flown to Nice Airport. And she had added that, the next time Rosalie was on Report, and to be punished, she was to receive a breast-caning. Twenty or twenty five strokes. Melissa left it to Judith...
Melissa sighed and gently caressed her own superbly shaped orbs.
Perhaps, she said to herself, Rosalie has erred today.
Perhaps she will get that cruel caning tonight!
„What is your name?”
“Aldo, Madame.”
“You are Italian?”
„Yes, Madame.”
Melissa still lay naked on the bed and she could see the handsome young man’s eyes hot upon her body. Her maid had let him into the ante-room and then discreetly and quickly left.
“Take off your clothes, Aldo.”
“Yes, Madame.”
Aldo found himself rather shaken. And puzzled. Usually he had to please fat, ugly, middle-aged women. Why did this ravishing creature have to hire a man? It didn’t make sense. Aldo removed his final garment and placed it carefully away... then he stood naked. And stood proud.
“Mmmm...” said Melissa, after a prolonged stare. “Not bad... ”
Aldo smiled happily. “I am glad I please you, Madame,” he said and took a step towards the bed.
Melissa held up a hand and he halted. She pointed to a pile of Francs on the dressing-table.
“Those are for you, if you please me,” she said. It was important that she established completely that she was buying this man. That, for a brief while, she owned him. Understandably, for Melissa, that was a most gratifying sensation.
“Thank you, Madame, you are most kind,” mumbled Aldo. He hated that part of it; just wishing to be the handsome Latin lover.
“Also, Aldo,” went on Melissa, “you will do nothing... absolutely nothing... I do not order you to do. I am in charge and you will do as I say. I want none of your romantic Italian bravura.”
“I... I understand, Madame,” nodded Aldo, looking a little crestfallen. Still in all honesty, he had little to complain about... with this lovely woman to service.
“You will begin by tonguing me,” said Melissa. “Do not touch me with your hands. Just with your mouth and tongue.”
“Very well, Madame...”
Melissa settled herself comfortably on a pile of pillows and opened her thighs. Aldo slid between them. His mouth pressed his tongue probed.
Soon Melissa uttered a long shuddering sigh.
Aldo was very good, she realised. But she said nothing. Then, in a little while, she came to orgasm. Aldo slowed, then stopped, but kept his mouth gently pressed. Still Melissa said nothing. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of relaxation, pressing her thighs closer to Aldo’s face. I’ll keep him there, she thought, just for as long as I want. Until I want him to do it again.
She almost got as much pleasure from the power of being able to do that as anything else!
A little over half an hour later, after being brought to a second climax in the same fashion, Melissa ordered Aldo onto his back on the bed. These were virtually the first words she had spoken... although Aldo had attempted, on several occasions, words of praise and endearment - only to be perfunctorily silenced.
The powerful organ rose up, long and solid, quivering a little. Melissa fondled it casually, rather as if it were a toy. Her lovely face was almost expressionless. I can take this... or I can reject it... she said to herself. And oh how important it was to be able to do just that! Oh how utterly delightful!
I’ll take it, she said to herself, with a secret inner smile.
Then she rose up, straddled Aldo’s strong young body and sank down on to the rampant erection.
“Ahhhhhh....” she sighed happily.
“M-Madame... ahh...Madame... lovely... Lady... ”
“Shut up!” snapped Melissa. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
Then, with an easy-swinging, rhythmic movement, she began to ride her stallion...
It was lucky for Aldo that, Melissa being already so stimulated, she did not need him to remain in erection long. She came to a final all-absorbing climax just in time for him. The young man, panting and sweating with the efforts of control, did not think he could have held out a moment longer!
A week later, Quentin Osman had bought the house they had seen in the Carmargue. It was a cash deal - in dollars. He spent an afternoon there, studying the cellars and roughly sketching out the alterations that would be required. It would not take long to make the whole place quite secure. Nor would it take long to make it adequately usable - and they could make improvements as time went by.
Melissa had Madame Vesta’s personnel picked up at the airport and then interviewed them at the villa individually. The particulars she took and the notes she made at the time will be of interest.
ZELDA
Aged 28. Anglo-Turkish.
Tall, powerful-looking woman. An ideal dominatrix type, in my view.
Black-haired (with a touch of grey). Almond eyed, high cheekbones (the Turkish side of her). Wide mouth, but thin lipped. Smiles rarely... and then it is only a kind of automatic movement
with her mouth. Never smiles with her dark, oily eyes.
Very respectful to me but I could well imagine she could put the fear of God into anyone in her power.
So I much approved of her!
Has been in the service of Madame Vesta for four months. Learnt ‘the tricks of the trade’ from Miss Judith (a recommendation in itself!).
Confessed she enjoyed her work exceedingly.
Also confessed she is now 100% lesbian - although she had made some use of men in her early days.
A few years ago, she had worked in Paris as a professional dominatrix. Not of women - but of men! She confessed she enjoyed that too, but nowhere near as much as dominating women. Especially young women.
When I told her her future charges would be eighteen and nineteen, she was evidently delighted. She said, at first, she had been reluctant to leave the ‘Paradise’ but this news made things look rather different.
She has a variety of ‘uniforms’ and some equipment following on another flight.
We got on well from the outset and I think we shall continue to do so. It was pretty obvious to me that Madame Vesta had said nothing to her of my previous experiences. Which, I think, is all for the best under the circumstances.
HANS
Aged 25. German.
Your original blonde Nordic male - the type Hitler planned to breed his Master Race from!
Pale blue eyes to go with it. Yet for all his good looks, there is a certain dumbness about this man. He is probably as thick as he looks. However, he is certain to obey orders and be ‘faithful unto death’!
Seemed absolutely unconcerned when I told him to strip. He is very well hung, as are all Madame Vesta’s male assistants. Hans was equally unconcerned when I ordered him to bring himself to erection - by hand. When he had done so, I measured him. Eight inches - and thickly girthed with it. Quite a formidable prospect for a teenager!
Six months service and has worked mainly as assistant to Zelda.
He is unimaginative, but obviously thorough.
He will do.
CASSIM
Aged 26. Lebanese.
Again, quite handsome, but in a very different way to Hans.
He is olive-skinned... with a rather oily appearance.
Thinnish, sallow features. Hard jaw, cruel mouth. One can see the Arab in him.
Equally unconcerned when I told him to strip. I was surprised to find he had no body hair at all! He explained that he had very little anyway, and preferred to remove what was left and keep his skin soft with oils and lotions. It gives him a slightly bizarre appearance. Like Hans, he was unconcerned about masturbating before me.
He turned out to be even longer than Hans - nine inches - but, on the other hand, was not quite so thickly girthed.
The girls will have a choice!
A Hobson’s choice!
Surprisingly, has only served two months on the ‘Paradise’ but, I gathered, had done similar work elsewhere. However, he did not want to talk about this, which is fair enough. He is brighter than Hans and, maybe, more vicious.
He, also, will do. Very well.
“Are you satisfied with your staff, my dear?” asked Quentin.
“Very... ” nodded Melissa.
“Good... good. I like the look of them too. That Zelda is a wicked looking bitch.”
“Isn’t she just! And Hans and Cassim have a lot to recommend them.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll take them all over to Maison Jaune and get them started on the work.”
“Maison Jaune?”
“Yes, that’s the name of our new place. Didn’t you know?”
“As a matter of fact, I didn’t. It’s called that on account of the yellow shutters, I expect.”
“Most likely. Any plans for today, my dear?”
“No... just lounging. Maybe I’ll go to the beach.”
“No fucking?” asked Quentin with a wry little smile. He was only just getting properly used to the idea that Melissa, though his wife, was a completely free woman as far as sex was concerned. And in every other way, if it came to that!
“Possibly. How about you?”
Quentin shrugged. “It might be wise for me to save myself for the new arrivals.”
“Oh, come on, Quentin. You’ve plenty of stamina. Especially with those pills you use.”
Quentin looked pleased. It was always satisfying to have his sexual prowess extolled. “Perhaps I might fuck you,” he said.
“Feel free, husband dear,” replied Melissa. She rose from her chair, strolled sinuously across the room and pressed herself seductively to Quentin. Instantly he felt the surge of desire. Once he could have taken this lovely woman whenever he wished... yet how much more delightful it was to have her offer herself!
“Now?” he murmured, fondling soft breast-fruit.
“Now... ” nodded Melissa.
They moved into Quentin’s bedroom. And soon were locked in panting naked lust...
At about the same time, several hundred miles away, two figures came hurtling down a mountainside on skis. One blue track suit, one red. From the blue streamed, like a flag in the wind, a mass of blond hair; the red wore a white helmet from which only wisps of dark hair fluttered.
The blond was 16-year-old Heidi Baumann; the brunette was 17-year-old Maria, her sister. For the moment, in the exhilaration of their sweeping plunge through the powdery snow, they had not a care in the world. To quote some words of the immortal Thomas Gray: - Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play!
No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today. Breasts heaving, cheeks glowing, eyes glistening, the two young girls finally pulled up at the bottom of a slope. Enchantingly pretty, they looked the epitome of health and happiness. And, needless to say, at the Schloss in which they were staying, they were very much in demand amongst the bronzed, handsome young men also on a ski-ing holiday. But, although Maria and Heidi enjoyed the flattery... and liked being wined, dined and danced... that was as far as they would let these persistent young men go.
“Do you know, Heidi,” Maria had remarked only that very morning, “I think I prefer cock-teasing to a cock itself.”
Heidi had laughed a tinkling laugh. “Oh I agree with you Sis,” she had replied. “What a bore men are. So randy all the time. There seems to be only one thing they want.”
“Yes... they are pretty disgusting.” Maria looked covertly at her younger sister. It was only recently that they had begun to talk about sex at all. “Have you... er...have you... while you have been here?”
Heidi shook her blond head. “No... and I haven’t wanted it either. Too many other things to enjoy. Besides, like you I get a lot of fun out of teasing. You know that great lump of a Yank, name of Wilbur, who thinks he’s God’s gift?”
“Uh-hu...”
“He’s mad about me. Drooling. I think he’d willingly lick my boots for an hour, just for the privilege of getting his hand on it.”
It was Maria’s turn to laugh. “Poor man,” she said.
“Maria,” asked Heidi as they made their way towards the ski-lift. “Would you say we were very pretty?“
“Yes,” came the reply, which sounded without conceit. “Very. And it behoves pretty girls to be more reserved... more choosey... than the less attractive ones. If you want to hook a Count... or some English Lord... the more choosey you are the better.”
Heidi nodded thoughtfully. “Quite so,” she said. And that should not be too difficult, reflected the girl who had permitted only two young men - and then briefly - the honour of pleasing her. She had done so more as an experiment than anything else and had not enjoyed it much at all. She decided then and there that sex was overrated. Maria, who was only a shade more experienced, felt much the same way.
Thus it can be safely said that the Baumann sisters were not experiencing any great difficulty in remaining chaste!
However, although on the surface the lives of the two girls appeared more or less idyllic, it was far from being so. There was one permanent black shadow in their lives... Their step-mother.
Fifteen years younger than their 45-year-old father, she was hated without reserve by the two sisters. That hatred was returned by Magda Baumann in like measure... and it was often almost impossible to hide this ‘electric current’ of virulence from Herr Baumann. Fortunately, he was away a lot, travelling on business. Both sisters became convinced that Magda was not only steadily robbing them of their father’s affection but also that she was physically robbing him of his wealth.
They confronted Magda with it... and the charge was angrily denied. It was at this point that Magda Baumann was fortunate enough to hear of the existence of Madame Vesta and her organisation. At once she began to make arrangements. For the hatred of the two sisters... and the knowledge of her illicit activities they had acquired... made them exceedingly dangerous.
For, of course, though denied, the charges against Magda Baumann were true. She was an out-and-out adventuress, determined to get sole possession of her husband’s considerable fortune. Ruthless in her aims and her actions, she had no compunction in consigning Maria and Heidi to oblivion.
To an existence of unremitting horror.
Indeed, the more she learnt of Madame Vesta’s organisation, the more pleased she was. It will do those two arrogant little bitches good, she told herself. They’ve had it too easy in life. Rich, powerful... fawned on... favoured. Now they would learn another side to things! Whilst she would have her husband all to herself, to twist around her little finger, and suck at his riches like a vampire bat.
She was not aware, however, that her two step-daughters had decided to kill her.
They had agreed their father was too besotted with this evil woman. That he would never believe she would betray him. He was a simpleton ‘in love’. So Magda would have to be disposed of... and the plan was set for when they returned from their ski-ing holiday, whilst their father was still away.
An accidental overdose. For Magda was known to take more than an average number of sleeping pills. Combined with an excess of wine and brandy... well, people can make mistakes...
But ‘the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley.’ Magda was alerted to the plan by her butler (one of her personal retainers) who had overheard it being discussed in what the girls presumed to be the privacy of the conservatory. Needless to say, Magda’s reserve to send the girls to Madame Vesta was strengthened. Moreover, any last qualms of conscience were removed.
Yes... they certainly deserved it...
The only thing that remained was to get a confession from them. Just in case. So she would always be able to prove to her husband just how wicked his two daughters really were. That confession would easily be obtained once they were in Madame Vesta’s hands!
Herr Baumann was returning from Japan in ten days. So quick action became imperative. Madame Vesta was cabled. Two of her agents were speedily despatched to the Austrian Tyrol.
Within a week, the awful tragedy on Lake Lerda was announced.
The silent, upturned yacht...
The pitiful personal possessions drifting in the freezing water...
No sign yet of the bodies...
They may have been sucked down by fierce underwater currents - a feature of Lake Lerda... In any event, a very deep lake...
Doubtless, one day, their horrible bloated corpses would rise to the surface...
But, surely, no one really wanted that. Better to let them lie deep, in peace...
A mourning father returned...
His wife, with glycerine tears, wearing a black veil...
The deed had been done.
Quickly, efficiently, securely. As always, with Madame Vesta’s organisation.
Two senseless bodies lay secure in packing cases, awaiting the signal for despatch to Maison Jaune, the residence of Quentin Osman and his wife Melissa.
Maddy
- 28.06.2020
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