Enslaved on an Alien World Ch 02
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Enslaved Chapter 42 free porn video
“Quentin... ”
“Yes, my dear?”
“I’ve been thinking... ”
“Uh-hu... good for you.” Quentin Osman’s reply was lazy. He stretched out a hand and patted Melissa’s bare, warm thigh. The lightly bronzed thigh of the wife of just less than a month. The couple were stretched out on two loungers, side by side, under a beach umbrella. It was very warm, but there was always the cool blue Mediterranean nearby to plunge into.
Melissa gave Quentin’s midriff a playful pat. It was a different midriff to his pre-marriage days. Quentin had been dieting and exercising, spurred on by his young wife and determined to look less than his fifty years. He was beginning to succeed.
“Hey, wake up you... and listen,” said Melissa. How different it was from former days! Then it had always been Quentin who gave the orders and Melissa who obeyed them. Now Quentin was happy to submit to his enchanting young bride’s whims and wishes. Frankly he reckoned he was enjoying her more as a wife than he had done as a slave-girl. He could not remember before being so stimulated both physically and mentally. Certainly he had not felt fitter for years. He pushed himself up on one elbow and turned towards Melissa.
“Let’s have it then,” he said with a sleepy grin. His eyes gloated possessively on his wife’s shapely body, clad in tight-fitting white, one-piece swimsuit. Sometimes Quentin could not believe Melissa was his wife! And how delightful it was to be the envy of so many younger men. Yes... yes... it was far preferable to have this woman as a wife than a slave.
“I don’t want to go back to Cragness,” said Melissa. Quentin looked startled, suddenly wide awake.
“Don’t want to go back?” he queried. “But... but... all arrangements have been made. With Madame Vesta, I mean. You can’t chuck it in now. Think of all the fun we can have together. Why, Melissa? Have you suddenly got cold feet?”
Melissa shook her rich, dark auburn locks. “Don’t be silly, Quentin,” she replied. I don’t want to chuck it in. Far from it. I simply said, I don’t want to go back to Cragness.”
“Aahh... ”
“Understandable, isn’t it?”
“Of course. Sorry...” Quentin ran a hand over Melissa’s smooth back. He recalled, suddenly, how much he had enjoyed whipping that back. Melissa had been the first woman he had ever whipped. Quickly Quentin switched his mind back to the present. He mustn’t think about Melissa in that way anymore. She was his wife. And soon she would be his slave-Mistress. “Rather tactless of me.”
“Typical of a man,” said Melissa, without rancour.
“What do you propose then, my dear?”
“That we move the whole caboodle over to France. All the gear, all the security devices. There’s no reason why we can’t operate in this country... rather than that gloomy barracks perpetually surrounded in mist.”
Quentin was silent for a little while, gazing into the haze above the powder-blue sea. “You’re right, my dear,” he said at last. “ That dump certainly leaves a lot to be desired.”
Melissa smiled at him. A dazzling white smile composed of small, perfectly even teeth. Quentin, in fact, had not yet quite got used to her smiling. It was a revelation. “I thought you’d see it my way,” she said, a shade smugly.
“Of course... of course... you’re the boss now, my lovely,” smiled Quentin happily. “But it will take a bit of planning. We still need a certain amount of remoteness.”
“Quite so. I’ve already given it a little thought, though. How about somewhere in the Carmargue?”
“Could be,” nodded Quentin. The Carmargue was a somewhat desolate region, flat and marshy, stretching westwards from Marseille to where the coast turned down towards Spain. “Let’s take a run out there tomorrow. Get the lie of the land. See some agents maybe.”
“Lovely idea,” said Melissa.
Then she suddenly leapt off the lounger and ran lightly and gracefully down to the sea, her shapely bottom bouncing as it swung from side to side. Quentin watched contentedly. Oh how well he knew that bottom! The sight of it squirming... the feel of it squirming. Once again Quentin made the effort to pull his mind back to the present. It would be easier to forget such things, he decided , when he had two new young slave-girls to amuse himself with.
Melissa plunged in and swam a long way under water before her head broke surface. The locks tossed and twirled. Then she began to swim smoothly with an easy crawl stroke. Soon her head was hardly more than a distant speck. Quentin had no fears for her safety. Melissa was young, strong and athletic... His wife.
Later, in the early evening, Melissa sent one of the house servants down to the Poste Restante. This, for reasons of security, was where any communications from the ‘Paradise’ were sent. The servant returned with a fairly bulky envelope and Melissa felt the tingle of pleasure within herself as she took it. It looked as if it contained a cassette.
Elegantly dressed in a lightweight, pale pink trouser suit... hair restored to its glory by a maidservant... Melissa strolled into her luxuriously furnished boudoir. She and Quentin had separate apartments in the villa. Then she stretched out on a silk-covered chaise longue and opened the letter. Her husband had gone down to the Casino for an hour or so before dinner... so she had plenty of time to enjoy it.
Yes... it did contain a CD.
Melissa put it on the table alongside her. That would come later. She unfolded the letter. As usual, it was from Miss Judith. It seemed that Madame Vesta did not bother with correspondence but left it to her assistants.
Dear Mrs. Osman, (read Melissa - and could not help smiling at the formal and respectful mode of address) First, following your requests to Madame Vesta, she asks me to tell you that she will be most happy to supply you with three assistants. Two male, one female. Unless you have any special requirements, she suggests you leave the choice to her. She assures you that you will find all of them adequately experienced in the training of slaves. If you will let her know a suitable airport, Madame Vesta will arrange for the three assistants to be flown there, so that you can interview them to see if they meet with your approval. (Melissa smiled again. How extraordinary it was that Miss Judith could be writing in this way on behalf of Madame Vesta - especially in view of what agonising dread she had once held both women. The world had indeed turned upside down!) Now to other events (continued the letter).
Julia has been behaving herself quite well. But, of course, this is only to be expected. She is very popular with the guests, both men and women, of whom we have a considerable number at the present time. The other evening, she gave a superb demonstration of the sexual expertise she has acquired. It took place on the main table after dinner had ended... and Julia contrived to service three men simultaneously. There was much applause at her performance but I am not at all sure that Julia appreciated it!
(Melissa could imagine the look of scornful amusement on Miss Judith’s face as she wrote that.) Understandably (the letter continued) Julia now gives little cause for punishment. What correction she does receive is mainly for imagined faults, contrived by a guest, or simply for a guest’s amusement. Julia has a message for you which doubtless, you will hear on the tape later.
Now we come to Rosalie. Though there are still some elements of stubbornness and rebelliousness in this slave they have, by now, largely been eradicated. She has at last realised there is no limit to the number of times she can be taken to the Punishment Room... nor to the severity of the disciplinary treatment she receives there. Accordingly, it can definitely be said her behaviour is improving.
As you requested, I see to it that Rosalie always gets ten extra strokes - whatever the instrument, however severe the punishment - these strokes being administered on your behalf. Always she is informed they are on your behalf before she gets them. (Melissa’s perfect teeth were exposed in a little grimace of cruel pleasure at this information. She knew just how Rosalie would feel at getting those ten extra. But, after what that woman had done to her, it was no more than she deserved. Once Rosalie had been a winner; now she was a loser!) As instructed by you (went on the letter) I give Rosalie to either Ahmed or Jason daily. Sometimes to both of them, if they are available.
It is this aspect of her servitude which Rosalie obviously finds the most disagreeable. Since she is a thorough-going lesbian, this is natural. At first, such was the frenzy of her resistance, she had to be secured down. It was ****... and that’s not how we like to do things here. Now... after a deal of hard work and a lot of pain and anguish for her... she is learning to offer herself in a more suitably submissive manner. However, that woman has a long, long way to go yet before her behaviour is as satisfactory as I would wish. But she will get there... believe me, she will get there! (Melissa believed her!) If neither Ahmed or Jason are available, I give Rosalie to one of the other assistants. In any event, I make sure she gets plenty of sexual exercise every day. When she had been sufficiently trained, I shall start giving her to guests.
If you have any further instructions regarding this slave of yours, I shall be glad to receive them. And implement them.
At the time of writing, you may like to know that Rosalie is On Report this evening. I shall recommend a birching. Fifteen strokes. In her case, that means twenty five. Tomorrow Rosalie has an hour to do on the Treadmill.
From what I have written I hope you consider our efforts satisfactory at this stage.
Yours, with respect,
MISS JUDITH
Melissa put down the letter. She closed her eyes. Long dark lashes lay over her cheeks. My God, she thought, could any revenge be more exquisite? She thought of what Rosalie had done to her... Then she thought of Rosalie’s present agonising torments... Torments that were going on and on and on... Perhaps, at that very moment, Rosalie was screaming... Heaven!
Melissa put out a neatly manicured hand, picked up a cigarette from a cedar box, then lit it with a gold lighter. She puffed out the smoke with luxurious content. It certainly was good to be a winner!
She had been a winner...
Then a big loser...
Now she was a big, big winner...
There was Quentin. A bastard. But a bastard with an incredible amount of money. Her husband. And she had him twisted round her little finger. Amazing in many ways. A fact all the same.
Then there was this set-up they were arranging. Two aristocratic young Austrian girls. Fodder for their fantasies. To do as they wished with. Melissa’s newly-discovered sadistic antennae quivered.
Oh what fun it was going to be!
This was going to be for real. Not just listening to tapes or reading letters. Fun though that was.
Oh yes... for real... for real...
Real flesh and blood.
Real screams.
Real pleas.
Melissa knew all about that sort of thing. That, therefore, was going to make the whole thing more enjoyable for her.
Melissa lay back in happy contemplation, finishing her cigarette. Then she rose from the Chaiselongue with languid, graceful ease. She looked very much the mistress of the house. Cool and relaxed; smooth and soignee. Utterly in command of herself. And, one could have imagined, of anyone else in her presence.
The very antithesis of her previous existence.
She moved to the drinks tray, solid with cut-glass decanters and goblets. Ice, then Green Chartreuse, splashed into one of the goblets. Melissa sipped... and luxuriated. She was approaching a moment of particular delight.
In her left hand was the CD. She slotted it into the player, pressed a button. Then walked back to the Chaise longue and reclined again. The CD began to hum faintly. There was a click. A voice came:
This is Miss Judith speaking from the ‘Paradise.’ The slave-girl Julia has a message for her Mistress. There was a pause. Melissa sipped her drink. She was thrilling and thrilling deep inside. Though she had once been a victim herself, she was beginning to understand the unique pleasure of personal power of this nature.)
Mistress (said a low, hoarse voice) it is an honour to be permitted to address you. (It was Julia.)
May I first thank you for sending me back to the ‘Paradise’ so that I may have the opportunity of understanding the true meaning of complete and utter slavery. You have given me this opportunity - and I know I must strive to learn all I can from it.
(Melissa uttered a sudden giggle. She simply couldn’t help it. She drank the remnants of her glass, then wandered over and re-filled it.) Mistress (continued the same low, hoarse voice) there is only one thing in life I now yearn for. Not that a slave should really yearn, of course. That is to be accepted back by you. As your most humble and obedient slave. Happy that you should have me as such. Proud that you should have chosen me to serve you.
Abject in my respect for your being... happy that you choose me to spit upon. To defile me. Happy, happy, that you even deign to take notice of my insignificant existence. Mistress... I yearn for the first stroke of your lash. I shall thank you for it. To show you how devoted and honoured a slave I now am. The stopped, then went dead.
Melissa smiled and sighed. Very nice, very nice. On the other hand, she reflected, I suppose I could have been made to send the same sort of message to Julia. If the positions had been reversed.
Yes, ultimately, one can always be made to do something.
Still, as far as she was concerned, that didn’t arise any more. She simply looked forward to the time when Julia would return - no longer as an equal in misfortune - but to come grovelling naked at her feet, honoured to be permitted to kiss her boots.
Melissa smiled again. Life had suddenly become very, very good. All the more good, perhaps, on account of the searing ordeal she had been through.
Contrast always adds piquancy...
The graceful figure rose from the couch again. Stepped across the room. The superb body shaped and smoothed under the lightweight suit. A delectable creature.
Another Green Chartreuse, heavily iced.
Melissa returned to the chaise longue. As she lay back, the CD startet into life again. The pleasure antennae fluttered again within Melissa. This was what she had really been waiting for!
This is Miss Judith speaking.
The following transcription concerns slave-girl Rosalie, who is now in the third week of her training on board the ‘Paradise’. Despite a considerable amount of persuasion, she is still reluctant to give herself sexually. Nor is she ready to co-operate subsequently.
In due time, these faults will be eradicate. For the time being it should be remembered that the slave-girl Rosalie is at a very early stage of her training.
Thus allowances must be made... And a great deal of improvement is expected in the future... Rosalie is chained naked in one of the Training Rooms. She has been kept there for some long time... having been previously been made aware that some sexual demands were going to be made upon her. The CD stopped, then fell silent. Then it began to start again.
A sound of sobbing could be heard. The sobs were deep and heart-rending. Choking. The sobs of someone spent and despairing.
Melissa pictured Rosalie’s ample body stretched out on a rough plank bed... her white shoulders rising and falling with her unremitting sobs... her buttocks and thighs probably already striped with weals. She thought to of the depths of her despair and dread.
Delightful!
Then there came the grating sound of a key in a lock. Even at this distance, and after all the time that had passed, felt a twinge of fear. So she could imagine what that sound did for Rosalie! The door creaking. Then slamming home.
Miss Judith: Up... up, you bitch! Quicker than that...
The whistle of a rod or switch. The sound of it biting into flesh. A yelping-gasping cry of pain from Rosalie.
In her mind’s eye, Melissa could now see the dark-haired, buxom Rosalie kneeling erect... lips twitching, eyes wild and wide with pain and fear.
J: Look what I’ve brought for you, my girl... Girl! That was a laugh. Rosalie must have been all of thirty!
J: You remember, Ahmed, I’m sure!
R (moaning): Ooohh...n-no... ohhh... n-noooo...
The plaited leather switch (for that was what Melissa had decided it was) whistled and bit again. Once... twice. Two more yelping, - gasping cries from Rosalie.
J: I asked you a question, slave... answer it!
R: U-Ughh... mmfff... uggh... y-yer... ess... M-Miss... y-yes... sss...
J: Next time I’ll give it you across your tits...
R (in mortal dread): Aaaahhh... n-no... oooo... m-mercy...
Melissa imagined Rosalie cringing back, swinging her big, white melon-breasts to one side.
J: Do you know what you’re going to do to Ahmed, slave?
R (in a whisper): N-No... M-Miss...
J: You’re going to suck his prick!
R: N-No... oooo... p-please... eeeas... not that...
J: You’ll like that, won’t you, you lesbian whore?
R: N-Nooo... oooo...I can’t bear it!
Again the switch whistled and bit twice. Rosalie screamed in agony... and Melissa could almost see those big orbs bouncing and swinging wildly, carrying two bright new weals.
Wonderful! She must remember, sometime, to instruct Miss Judith to give Rosalie a proper breast caning!
J: I asked you a question!
R (sobbing heartrendingly): I... agh... I... mmmff... c-can’t... M-Miss...
J: Can’t remember what I asked?
R: Y-Yes... Miss...
J: I asked you if you’d like to suck Ahmed’s prick.
R: Ogh... n-no... Miss... p-please... d-don’t ma-make me...
Doubtless, the giant Ahmed would be standing, arms folded, grinning hugely, already in rampant erection. A formidable sight. All the more so for one of Rosalie’s predelictions.
J: Unshackle her, please, Ahmed.
A: Sure, Miss...
R: N-No... ooooohhh... no... ooo... STOO... OPPPPP... DON’T TOUCH ME!
Ahmed laughing. The sound of slapping. Rosalie crying out desperately.
A: You got big boobs, lady... I like to slap ‘em!
R: STOO...OPPPP... OOOGGGH...STOOOPPPP!
J: Sit on the planks, Ahmed.
A: O.K., Miss...
The switch again. A shriek...
J: You... get on your knees.
The switch yet again.
J: I said... on your knees...that’s better... now... get it in your mouth, you bitch...
The sound of hysterical sobs came from Rosalie, mounting higher and higher.
R: NO... OOOO! OHHH... FOR GOD’S SAKE... DON’T M-MAKE M-MEEEE...
J: Suck it, slave!
R: NO... OOOO...III... I . CAAAAAN’T!
Melissa smiled a slow, sadistic smile. There was a little pause on the CD.
J: Get her arms, Ahmed.
Yes, thought Melissa, that was how it would be. Rosalie on her knees between Ahmed’s treetrunk thighs. Now he would have gripped her forearms, pulling them high up her back. Forcing her to raise herself. Forcing her to thrust out her hindquarters.
J (viciously): Right, you fat-arsed bitch. You’ve asked for it! If there’s one thing in a slave I won’t abide, it’s disobedience!
The switch fell...
And then continued to fall at measured intervals... errible screams came slightly distorted from the CD.
Five strokes...
Ten strokes... The high-pitched, rasping whistle. Then the bite into soft flesh. That latter sound was particularly sharp and Melissa had a vision of that plump bottom jerking and writhing agonisedly as the long, encircling twin-tracked weals multiplied.
Perhaps, reflected Melissa happily, you are now regretting you once caned me. Certainly Rosalie was getting back ten times more than she had ever given!
Fifteen!
The noise was rather like that which emanates from a pig’s slaughter-house, thought Melissa. Yes... it was becoming quite a thrashing.
Sixteen...
s*******n...
Eighteen...
Nineteen...
Twenty...
Yes... Rosalie wouldn’t forget this in a hurry!
The last few strokes had produced choking-groans rather than pig-like screams.
A: She’s gone, I guess, Miss...
J: Fainted?
A: More or less...
J: Bring her round. I haven’t finished with her yet.
A: Sure thing, Miss.
The smelling salts would be being produced. Melissa clenched her fists with delight. Oh... oh... you deserve it, you cow, for what you did to me! I’m glad... I’m glad! And you’ll get more and more! I’ll see to that!
Choking... gasping... retching...
J: Her arms again, please, Ahmed.
Incoherent babbling sounds. Like someone demented.
Then Rosalie’s agony began again...
Oh those breathless screams! Oh those howls for mercy!
In her excitement, Melissa rather lost count. But Rosalie must have got between ten and fifteen more before she was rendered senseless again.
J: Right, Ahmed, chain her up again. Then bring her round.
A: Sure, Miss.
J: We’ll come back in an hour.
The CD stopped and went silent. Then came the voice of Miss Judith.
J: Understandably, before continuing with Rosalie’s training, there had to be a brief interval. (Miss Judith spoke coolly and calmly, rather like a schoolmistress talking about a pupil). The hour would give her time to feel to the full the weals I had just raised across her backside... and to contemplate the dangerous folly of disobeying my orders. Also, to brace herself for the ordeal she had striven to avoid but which, she must know, still lay ahead. Somehow, she must find the will and strength to do something which obviously revolted her to the depths of her being. Those weals... and the thought of more... would be a potent incentive.
Would they not, reflected Melissa. She herself remembered.
Then she switched her mind away. All that was over for her. Far better to enjoy her good fortune. And the present.
Again the CD started. Melissa almost purred with anticipatory pleasure.
Sobbing... whimpering... piteous moaning noises.
Again the key in the door. Then panting and scuffling sounds. That would be Rosalie forcing herself erect as quickly as possible.
J: Unchain her, Ahmed.
A: Right, Miss.
Clink... clank... clankity... clank...
J: On your knees, slave. Bottom well up...
Louder whimpering. Sobs. Deep, groaning sobs.
R: M-Mercy... M-Miss... merceee...
J: A little painful, is it, Rosalie? Burns and smarts somewhat, does it, Rosalie?
Moans. More sobbing.
R (with feeling): Yes... ooooh... y-yes... Miss...
J: Good! Well, my girl, let me tell you, it can burn and smart a lot more than that. And it will do, if you dare disobey me again. Understood?
R: Mmmff... uugghh...y-y...ugh... y-er...esss... M-Miss...
J: Thank you, Ahmed. On the planks again. Now... slave... I will repeat my order. Crawl to Ahmed... then take his prick into your mouth... and suck it!
Whimpering, groaning, choking. A slithering sound as Rosalie crawled. Now... now... could she make herself do it?
A retching sound...
J: Grip the root. Take more of it in...
Ah yes, she WAS doing it! Pity in a way, another thrashing would have been really something, thought Melissa. Though Rosalie must have been nearing the end of her tether and would not have been able to take much more shock and exhaustion overcame her.
Ah yes, there was the slurp-slurp-slurping sounds of Rosalie’s mouth working. Melissa smiled. That was a big, big cock she was having to deal with! Not at all to Rosalie’s taste!
The switch whistled and cracked across agonied flesh.
J: Did I tell you to stop?
Miss Judith’s voice came rasping as the shrieking sounds subsided.
J: Take it in again... and suck, girl, suck... do you hear me?
Groans and retching sounds. Then the slurp-slurp-slurping was resumed. Two or three minutes passed. As well as the slurps, the snorting sounds could be heard coming down Rosalie’s nostrils. She certainly doesn’t want any more switch, said Melissa to herself. Understandable! I wonder if they made her go all the way?
J: Hold her head now, Ahmed.
A: Sure... Miss...
His voice had become a little thick. Not long now...
J: Suck, you whore, suck! Or I’ll flay you alive!
Slurp... slurp... slurp... slurp... slurp... slurp
Suddenly Ahmed was grunting.
J (urgently): Hold her there... hold her!
Ahmed was grunting louder... It was happening... it was happening! Ahmed must be shooting and shooting!
Howling-gasping... louder retching... heaving sounds...
Ahmed groaning happily...
J: Oh dear... oh dear... she took half of it over her face and tits. Oh dear... oh dear... still... she’ll learn. Oh yes... she’ll learn!
And silence...
A silence in which Melissa wallowed most contentedly.
“Yes, my dear?”
“I’ve been thinking... ”
“Uh-hu... good for you.” Quentin Osman’s reply was lazy. He stretched out a hand and patted Melissa’s bare, warm thigh. The lightly bronzed thigh of the wife of just less than a month. The couple were stretched out on two loungers, side by side, under a beach umbrella. It was very warm, but there was always the cool blue Mediterranean nearby to plunge into.
Melissa gave Quentin’s midriff a playful pat. It was a different midriff to his pre-marriage days. Quentin had been dieting and exercising, spurred on by his young wife and determined to look less than his fifty years. He was beginning to succeed.
“Hey, wake up you... and listen,” said Melissa. How different it was from former days! Then it had always been Quentin who gave the orders and Melissa who obeyed them. Now Quentin was happy to submit to his enchanting young bride’s whims and wishes. Frankly he reckoned he was enjoying her more as a wife than he had done as a slave-girl. He could not remember before being so stimulated both physically and mentally. Certainly he had not felt fitter for years. He pushed himself up on one elbow and turned towards Melissa.
“Let’s have it then,” he said with a sleepy grin. His eyes gloated possessively on his wife’s shapely body, clad in tight-fitting white, one-piece swimsuit. Sometimes Quentin could not believe Melissa was his wife! And how delightful it was to be the envy of so many younger men. Yes... yes... it was far preferable to have this woman as a wife than a slave.
“I don’t want to go back to Cragness,” said Melissa. Quentin looked startled, suddenly wide awake.
“Don’t want to go back?” he queried. “But... but... all arrangements have been made. With Madame Vesta, I mean. You can’t chuck it in now. Think of all the fun we can have together. Why, Melissa? Have you suddenly got cold feet?”
Melissa shook her rich, dark auburn locks. “Don’t be silly, Quentin,” she replied. I don’t want to chuck it in. Far from it. I simply said, I don’t want to go back to Cragness.”
“Aahh... ”
“Understandable, isn’t it?”
“Of course. Sorry...” Quentin ran a hand over Melissa’s smooth back. He recalled, suddenly, how much he had enjoyed whipping that back. Melissa had been the first woman he had ever whipped. Quickly Quentin switched his mind back to the present. He mustn’t think about Melissa in that way anymore. She was his wife. And soon she would be his slave-Mistress. “Rather tactless of me.”
“Typical of a man,” said Melissa, without rancour.
“What do you propose then, my dear?”
“That we move the whole caboodle over to France. All the gear, all the security devices. There’s no reason why we can’t operate in this country... rather than that gloomy barracks perpetually surrounded in mist.”
Quentin was silent for a little while, gazing into the haze above the powder-blue sea. “You’re right, my dear,” he said at last. “ That dump certainly leaves a lot to be desired.”
Melissa smiled at him. A dazzling white smile composed of small, perfectly even teeth. Quentin, in fact, had not yet quite got used to her smiling. It was a revelation. “I thought you’d see it my way,” she said, a shade smugly.
“Of course... of course... you’re the boss now, my lovely,” smiled Quentin happily. “But it will take a bit of planning. We still need a certain amount of remoteness.”
“Quite so. I’ve already given it a little thought, though. How about somewhere in the Carmargue?”
“Could be,” nodded Quentin. The Carmargue was a somewhat desolate region, flat and marshy, stretching westwards from Marseille to where the coast turned down towards Spain. “Let’s take a run out there tomorrow. Get the lie of the land. See some agents maybe.”
“Lovely idea,” said Melissa.
Then she suddenly leapt off the lounger and ran lightly and gracefully down to the sea, her shapely bottom bouncing as it swung from side to side. Quentin watched contentedly. Oh how well he knew that bottom! The sight of it squirming... the feel of it squirming. Once again Quentin made the effort to pull his mind back to the present. It would be easier to forget such things, he decided , when he had two new young slave-girls to amuse himself with.
Melissa plunged in and swam a long way under water before her head broke surface. The locks tossed and twirled. Then she began to swim smoothly with an easy crawl stroke. Soon her head was hardly more than a distant speck. Quentin had no fears for her safety. Melissa was young, strong and athletic... His wife.
Later, in the early evening, Melissa sent one of the house servants down to the Poste Restante. This, for reasons of security, was where any communications from the ‘Paradise’ were sent. The servant returned with a fairly bulky envelope and Melissa felt the tingle of pleasure within herself as she took it. It looked as if it contained a cassette.
Elegantly dressed in a lightweight, pale pink trouser suit... hair restored to its glory by a maidservant... Melissa strolled into her luxuriously furnished boudoir. She and Quentin had separate apartments in the villa. Then she stretched out on a silk-covered chaise longue and opened the letter. Her husband had gone down to the Casino for an hour or so before dinner... so she had plenty of time to enjoy it.
Yes... it did contain a CD.
Melissa put it on the table alongside her. That would come later. She unfolded the letter. As usual, it was from Miss Judith. It seemed that Madame Vesta did not bother with correspondence but left it to her assistants.
Dear Mrs. Osman, (read Melissa - and could not help smiling at the formal and respectful mode of address) First, following your requests to Madame Vesta, she asks me to tell you that she will be most happy to supply you with three assistants. Two male, one female. Unless you have any special requirements, she suggests you leave the choice to her. She assures you that you will find all of them adequately experienced in the training of slaves. If you will let her know a suitable airport, Madame Vesta will arrange for the three assistants to be flown there, so that you can interview them to see if they meet with your approval. (Melissa smiled again. How extraordinary it was that Miss Judith could be writing in this way on behalf of Madame Vesta - especially in view of what agonising dread she had once held both women. The world had indeed turned upside down!) Now to other events (continued the letter).
Julia has been behaving herself quite well. But, of course, this is only to be expected. She is very popular with the guests, both men and women, of whom we have a considerable number at the present time. The other evening, she gave a superb demonstration of the sexual expertise she has acquired. It took place on the main table after dinner had ended... and Julia contrived to service three men simultaneously. There was much applause at her performance but I am not at all sure that Julia appreciated it!
(Melissa could imagine the look of scornful amusement on Miss Judith’s face as she wrote that.) Understandably (the letter continued) Julia now gives little cause for punishment. What correction she does receive is mainly for imagined faults, contrived by a guest, or simply for a guest’s amusement. Julia has a message for you which doubtless, you will hear on the tape later.
Now we come to Rosalie. Though there are still some elements of stubbornness and rebelliousness in this slave they have, by now, largely been eradicated. She has at last realised there is no limit to the number of times she can be taken to the Punishment Room... nor to the severity of the disciplinary treatment she receives there. Accordingly, it can definitely be said her behaviour is improving.
As you requested, I see to it that Rosalie always gets ten extra strokes - whatever the instrument, however severe the punishment - these strokes being administered on your behalf. Always she is informed they are on your behalf before she gets them. (Melissa’s perfect teeth were exposed in a little grimace of cruel pleasure at this information. She knew just how Rosalie would feel at getting those ten extra. But, after what that woman had done to her, it was no more than she deserved. Once Rosalie had been a winner; now she was a loser!) As instructed by you (went on the letter) I give Rosalie to either Ahmed or Jason daily. Sometimes to both of them, if they are available.
It is this aspect of her servitude which Rosalie obviously finds the most disagreeable. Since she is a thorough-going lesbian, this is natural. At first, such was the frenzy of her resistance, she had to be secured down. It was ****... and that’s not how we like to do things here. Now... after a deal of hard work and a lot of pain and anguish for her... she is learning to offer herself in a more suitably submissive manner. However, that woman has a long, long way to go yet before her behaviour is as satisfactory as I would wish. But she will get there... believe me, she will get there! (Melissa believed her!) If neither Ahmed or Jason are available, I give Rosalie to one of the other assistants. In any event, I make sure she gets plenty of sexual exercise every day. When she had been sufficiently trained, I shall start giving her to guests.
If you have any further instructions regarding this slave of yours, I shall be glad to receive them. And implement them.
At the time of writing, you may like to know that Rosalie is On Report this evening. I shall recommend a birching. Fifteen strokes. In her case, that means twenty five. Tomorrow Rosalie has an hour to do on the Treadmill.
From what I have written I hope you consider our efforts satisfactory at this stage.
Yours, with respect,
MISS JUDITH
Melissa put down the letter. She closed her eyes. Long dark lashes lay over her cheeks. My God, she thought, could any revenge be more exquisite? She thought of what Rosalie had done to her... Then she thought of Rosalie’s present agonising torments... Torments that were going on and on and on... Perhaps, at that very moment, Rosalie was screaming... Heaven!
Melissa put out a neatly manicured hand, picked up a cigarette from a cedar box, then lit it with a gold lighter. She puffed out the smoke with luxurious content. It certainly was good to be a winner!
She had been a winner...
Then a big loser...
Now she was a big, big winner...
There was Quentin. A bastard. But a bastard with an incredible amount of money. Her husband. And she had him twisted round her little finger. Amazing in many ways. A fact all the same.
Then there was this set-up they were arranging. Two aristocratic young Austrian girls. Fodder for their fantasies. To do as they wished with. Melissa’s newly-discovered sadistic antennae quivered.
Oh what fun it was going to be!
This was going to be for real. Not just listening to tapes or reading letters. Fun though that was.
Oh yes... for real... for real...
Real flesh and blood.
Real screams.
Real pleas.
Melissa knew all about that sort of thing. That, therefore, was going to make the whole thing more enjoyable for her.
Melissa lay back in happy contemplation, finishing her cigarette. Then she rose from the Chaiselongue with languid, graceful ease. She looked very much the mistress of the house. Cool and relaxed; smooth and soignee. Utterly in command of herself. And, one could have imagined, of anyone else in her presence.
The very antithesis of her previous existence.
She moved to the drinks tray, solid with cut-glass decanters and goblets. Ice, then Green Chartreuse, splashed into one of the goblets. Melissa sipped... and luxuriated. She was approaching a moment of particular delight.
In her left hand was the CD. She slotted it into the player, pressed a button. Then walked back to the Chaise longue and reclined again. The CD began to hum faintly. There was a click. A voice came:
This is Miss Judith speaking from the ‘Paradise.’ The slave-girl Julia has a message for her Mistress. There was a pause. Melissa sipped her drink. She was thrilling and thrilling deep inside. Though she had once been a victim herself, she was beginning to understand the unique pleasure of personal power of this nature.)
Mistress (said a low, hoarse voice) it is an honour to be permitted to address you. (It was Julia.)
May I first thank you for sending me back to the ‘Paradise’ so that I may have the opportunity of understanding the true meaning of complete and utter slavery. You have given me this opportunity - and I know I must strive to learn all I can from it.
(Melissa uttered a sudden giggle. She simply couldn’t help it. She drank the remnants of her glass, then wandered over and re-filled it.) Mistress (continued the same low, hoarse voice) there is only one thing in life I now yearn for. Not that a slave should really yearn, of course. That is to be accepted back by you. As your most humble and obedient slave. Happy that you should have me as such. Proud that you should have chosen me to serve you.
Abject in my respect for your being... happy that you choose me to spit upon. To defile me. Happy, happy, that you even deign to take notice of my insignificant existence. Mistress... I yearn for the first stroke of your lash. I shall thank you for it. To show you how devoted and honoured a slave I now am. The stopped, then went dead.
Melissa smiled and sighed. Very nice, very nice. On the other hand, she reflected, I suppose I could have been made to send the same sort of message to Julia. If the positions had been reversed.
Yes, ultimately, one can always be made to do something.
Still, as far as she was concerned, that didn’t arise any more. She simply looked forward to the time when Julia would return - no longer as an equal in misfortune - but to come grovelling naked at her feet, honoured to be permitted to kiss her boots.
Melissa smiled again. Life had suddenly become very, very good. All the more good, perhaps, on account of the searing ordeal she had been through.
Contrast always adds piquancy...
The graceful figure rose from the couch again. Stepped across the room. The superb body shaped and smoothed under the lightweight suit. A delectable creature.
Another Green Chartreuse, heavily iced.
Melissa returned to the chaise longue. As she lay back, the CD startet into life again. The pleasure antennae fluttered again within Melissa. This was what she had really been waiting for!
This is Miss Judith speaking.
The following transcription concerns slave-girl Rosalie, who is now in the third week of her training on board the ‘Paradise’. Despite a considerable amount of persuasion, she is still reluctant to give herself sexually. Nor is she ready to co-operate subsequently.
In due time, these faults will be eradicate. For the time being it should be remembered that the slave-girl Rosalie is at a very early stage of her training.
Thus allowances must be made... And a great deal of improvement is expected in the future... Rosalie is chained naked in one of the Training Rooms. She has been kept there for some long time... having been previously been made aware that some sexual demands were going to be made upon her. The CD stopped, then fell silent. Then it began to start again.
A sound of sobbing could be heard. The sobs were deep and heart-rending. Choking. The sobs of someone spent and despairing.
Melissa pictured Rosalie’s ample body stretched out on a rough plank bed... her white shoulders rising and falling with her unremitting sobs... her buttocks and thighs probably already striped with weals. She thought to of the depths of her despair and dread.
Delightful!
Then there came the grating sound of a key in a lock. Even at this distance, and after all the time that had passed, felt a twinge of fear. So she could imagine what that sound did for Rosalie! The door creaking. Then slamming home.
Miss Judith: Up... up, you bitch! Quicker than that...
The whistle of a rod or switch. The sound of it biting into flesh. A yelping-gasping cry of pain from Rosalie.
In her mind’s eye, Melissa could now see the dark-haired, buxom Rosalie kneeling erect... lips twitching, eyes wild and wide with pain and fear.
J: Look what I’ve brought for you, my girl... Girl! That was a laugh. Rosalie must have been all of thirty!
J: You remember, Ahmed, I’m sure!
R (moaning): Ooohh...n-no... ohhh... n-noooo...
The plaited leather switch (for that was what Melissa had decided it was) whistled and bit again. Once... twice. Two more yelping, - gasping cries from Rosalie.
J: I asked you a question, slave... answer it!
R: U-Ughh... mmfff... uggh... y-yer... ess... M-Miss... y-yes... sss...
J: Next time I’ll give it you across your tits...
R (in mortal dread): Aaaahhh... n-no... oooo... m-mercy...
Melissa imagined Rosalie cringing back, swinging her big, white melon-breasts to one side.
J: Do you know what you’re going to do to Ahmed, slave?
R (in a whisper): N-No... M-Miss...
J: You’re going to suck his prick!
R: N-No... oooo... p-please... eeeas... not that...
J: You’ll like that, won’t you, you lesbian whore?
R: N-Nooo... oooo...I can’t bear it!
Again the switch whistled and bit twice. Rosalie screamed in agony... and Melissa could almost see those big orbs bouncing and swinging wildly, carrying two bright new weals.
Wonderful! She must remember, sometime, to instruct Miss Judith to give Rosalie a proper breast caning!
J: I asked you a question!
R (sobbing heartrendingly): I... agh... I... mmmff... c-can’t... M-Miss...
J: Can’t remember what I asked?
R: Y-Yes... Miss...
J: I asked you if you’d like to suck Ahmed’s prick.
R: Ogh... n-no... Miss... p-please... d-don’t ma-make me...
Doubtless, the giant Ahmed would be standing, arms folded, grinning hugely, already in rampant erection. A formidable sight. All the more so for one of Rosalie’s predelictions.
J: Unshackle her, please, Ahmed.
A: Sure, Miss...
R: N-No... ooooohhh... no... ooo... STOO... OPPPPP... DON’T TOUCH ME!
Ahmed laughing. The sound of slapping. Rosalie crying out desperately.
A: You got big boobs, lady... I like to slap ‘em!
R: STOO...OPPPP... OOOGGGH...STOOOPPPP!
J: Sit on the planks, Ahmed.
A: O.K., Miss...
The switch again. A shriek...
J: You... get on your knees.
The switch yet again.
J: I said... on your knees...that’s better... now... get it in your mouth, you bitch...
The sound of hysterical sobs came from Rosalie, mounting higher and higher.
R: NO... OOOO! OHHH... FOR GOD’S SAKE... DON’T M-MAKE M-MEEEE...
J: Suck it, slave!
R: NO... OOOO...III... I . CAAAAAN’T!
Melissa smiled a slow, sadistic smile. There was a little pause on the CD.
J: Get her arms, Ahmed.
Yes, thought Melissa, that was how it would be. Rosalie on her knees between Ahmed’s treetrunk thighs. Now he would have gripped her forearms, pulling them high up her back. Forcing her to raise herself. Forcing her to thrust out her hindquarters.
J (viciously): Right, you fat-arsed bitch. You’ve asked for it! If there’s one thing in a slave I won’t abide, it’s disobedience!
The switch fell...
And then continued to fall at measured intervals... errible screams came slightly distorted from the CD.
Five strokes...
Ten strokes... The high-pitched, rasping whistle. Then the bite into soft flesh. That latter sound was particularly sharp and Melissa had a vision of that plump bottom jerking and writhing agonisedly as the long, encircling twin-tracked weals multiplied.
Perhaps, reflected Melissa happily, you are now regretting you once caned me. Certainly Rosalie was getting back ten times more than she had ever given!
Fifteen!
The noise was rather like that which emanates from a pig’s slaughter-house, thought Melissa. Yes... it was becoming quite a thrashing.
Sixteen...
s*******n...
Eighteen...
Nineteen...
Twenty...
Yes... Rosalie wouldn’t forget this in a hurry!
The last few strokes had produced choking-groans rather than pig-like screams.
A: She’s gone, I guess, Miss...
J: Fainted?
A: More or less...
J: Bring her round. I haven’t finished with her yet.
A: Sure thing, Miss.
The smelling salts would be being produced. Melissa clenched her fists with delight. Oh... oh... you deserve it, you cow, for what you did to me! I’m glad... I’m glad! And you’ll get more and more! I’ll see to that!
Choking... gasping... retching...
J: Her arms again, please, Ahmed.
Incoherent babbling sounds. Like someone demented.
Then Rosalie’s agony began again...
Oh those breathless screams! Oh those howls for mercy!
In her excitement, Melissa rather lost count. But Rosalie must have got between ten and fifteen more before she was rendered senseless again.
J: Right, Ahmed, chain her up again. Then bring her round.
A: Sure, Miss.
J: We’ll come back in an hour.
The CD stopped and went silent. Then came the voice of Miss Judith.
J: Understandably, before continuing with Rosalie’s training, there had to be a brief interval. (Miss Judith spoke coolly and calmly, rather like a schoolmistress talking about a pupil). The hour would give her time to feel to the full the weals I had just raised across her backside... and to contemplate the dangerous folly of disobeying my orders. Also, to brace herself for the ordeal she had striven to avoid but which, she must know, still lay ahead. Somehow, she must find the will and strength to do something which obviously revolted her to the depths of her being. Those weals... and the thought of more... would be a potent incentive.
Would they not, reflected Melissa. She herself remembered.
Then she switched her mind away. All that was over for her. Far better to enjoy her good fortune. And the present.
Again the CD started. Melissa almost purred with anticipatory pleasure.
Sobbing... whimpering... piteous moaning noises.
Again the key in the door. Then panting and scuffling sounds. That would be Rosalie forcing herself erect as quickly as possible.
J: Unchain her, Ahmed.
A: Right, Miss.
Clink... clank... clankity... clank...
J: On your knees, slave. Bottom well up...
Louder whimpering. Sobs. Deep, groaning sobs.
R: M-Mercy... M-Miss... merceee...
J: A little painful, is it, Rosalie? Burns and smarts somewhat, does it, Rosalie?
Moans. More sobbing.
R (with feeling): Yes... ooooh... y-yes... Miss...
J: Good! Well, my girl, let me tell you, it can burn and smart a lot more than that. And it will do, if you dare disobey me again. Understood?
R: Mmmff... uugghh...y-y...ugh... y-er...esss... M-Miss...
J: Thank you, Ahmed. On the planks again. Now... slave... I will repeat my order. Crawl to Ahmed... then take his prick into your mouth... and suck it!
Whimpering, groaning, choking. A slithering sound as Rosalie crawled. Now... now... could she make herself do it?
A retching sound...
J: Grip the root. Take more of it in...
Ah yes, she WAS doing it! Pity in a way, another thrashing would have been really something, thought Melissa. Though Rosalie must have been nearing the end of her tether and would not have been able to take much more shock and exhaustion overcame her.
Ah yes, there was the slurp-slurp-slurping sounds of Rosalie’s mouth working. Melissa smiled. That was a big, big cock she was having to deal with! Not at all to Rosalie’s taste!
The switch whistled and cracked across agonied flesh.
J: Did I tell you to stop?
Miss Judith’s voice came rasping as the shrieking sounds subsided.
J: Take it in again... and suck, girl, suck... do you hear me?
Groans and retching sounds. Then the slurp-slurp-slurping was resumed. Two or three minutes passed. As well as the slurps, the snorting sounds could be heard coming down Rosalie’s nostrils. She certainly doesn’t want any more switch, said Melissa to herself. Understandable! I wonder if they made her go all the way?
J: Hold her head now, Ahmed.
A: Sure... Miss...
His voice had become a little thick. Not long now...
J: Suck, you whore, suck! Or I’ll flay you alive!
Slurp... slurp... slurp... slurp... slurp... slurp
Suddenly Ahmed was grunting.
J (urgently): Hold her there... hold her!
Ahmed was grunting louder... It was happening... it was happening! Ahmed must be shooting and shooting!
Howling-gasping... louder retching... heaving sounds...
Ahmed groaning happily...
J: Oh dear... oh dear... she took half of it over her face and tits. Oh dear... oh dear... still... she’ll learn. Oh yes... she’ll learn!
And silence...
A silence in which Melissa wallowed most contentedly.
Cathalina
- 08.05.2022
- 26
- 0
