Enslaved on an Alien World Ch 02
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Enslaved Chapter 23 free porn video
“Well now, how did it go then?”
Glenda Heine, wife-to-be of Quentin Osman eased herself further into the soft cushions piled on the Ottoman upon which she reclined. She wore a lightweight trouser-suit of flower design. Her light, blonde hair fell to her shoulders and this lessened the hardness of her rather angular face.
She was a woman who once might have been pretty but now, in mid-thirties, was no longer that. On the other hand, she had not become a beauty. In effect, she had one of those rather timeless American faces. Rather immobile; verging on the ‘plastic’.
“Very well,” smiled Quentin Osman.
He never felt quite at ease in Glenda’s luxurious penthouse apartment. Not did he ever know quite why that was. It was a pity she hadn’t agreed to come to his house on the outskirts of town.
“Been fucking yourself silly, I suppose,” said Glenda with a little curl of her pale-pink, almost translucent lips.
Very thin lips, they were.
“Not so...” answered Quentin with a certain demureness.
“You mean to say, after all you’ve done - and paid – you haven’t been really taking it out of that bitch?”
“I’ve been taking it out of her,” answered Quentin quietly, “but, it so happens, I haven’t been fucking her.”
Glenda Heine looked slightly incredulous. She knew her Quentin... and just how he felt about Julia.
“I can’t believe it,” she said.
“True though,” smiled Quentin. “Mind you - I had a little touch of here and there with some of the others.”
Glenda smiled in return. “Ahh... that’s more like it.
That’s how thing go on the ‘Paradise’.
“Yes... that’s how they go,” agreed Quentin.
“Well... tell me all about it then...”
Glenda had been expecting Quentin to be brimming over with details of all the fun he’d had with his ex-Mistress – now his slave. But in the main seemed strangely reticent.
“Not much point,” said Quentin. “The girl wants to remain as my personal slave indefinitely. And yours, too. She said she would serve you in any way you want. Just as she has to serve me.”
“Sounds interesting,” replied Glenda, raising pencil-thin eyebrows.
“Does she mean it?”
“She can’t help but mean it,” answered Quentin. “I own her body and soul. I’ve only to send a mail at this very minute and I can have her whipped.”
“Even more interesting,” smiled Glenda. “I always knew you were a sadist Quentin. Did you know I was one too?”
“I guessed it,” nodded Quentin. “Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why we get on so well together.”
“The difference is, I’ve never properly been able to indulge my sadism.” said Glenda. “Never had an unwilling girl please me. I reckon that would be really something.”
“It is,” grinned Quentin lecherously. His mind flickered reflectively over the delights of Melissa.
“So, are you asking me something? I gather you want this Julia as some kind of permanent slave. I don’t quite know how you’re going to organise that. Especially from the security point of view.”
“Yes... I am asking you something,” replied Quentin. “I want you to agree to both of us having Julia as a slave. To serve us in every way. But, particularly in sexual ways. It won’t interfere with our own relationship.”
Glenda smiled wryly. “No, I imagine not,” she said. “I’m all for this. It’s just that I don’t see how it can be arranged.”
“Craigness,” said Quentin. “We own it. It’s isolated. Just needs a little conversion... and we can keep her there.”
“Possible...”
“But I’d like you to look her over first.”
“Julia, you mean? Well, I wouldn’t mind. Just for kicks.”
“But you agree in principle to what I am suggesting?“
“That we keep the girl as a slave? Oh yes! It sounds the greatest fun. I just want to make sure about the security aspect.”
“Leave that to me... and Madame Vesta.”
“Very well...”
Quentin Osman stood up and moved towards the drinks cabinet. He had not though that Glenda would make any objection to his proposal, still he was glad everything had gone so smoothly.
Perhaps that was the main reason why he intended to marry Glenda. She was the kind of woman who took the most bizarre sort of suggestion without turning a hair. A kink. A pervert. Unbalanced in so many ways. Yet absolutely balanced when it mattered most. Yes... he liked that type.
“And have you had a good time while I’ve been away?” he asked.
“Not very,” answered Glenda. “Had a row with Sandra. I’ve got an idea she’s falling out of love with me.”
“Oh dear... what a pity...” Quentin was aware that Sandra was one of Glenda’s most long-standing girl-friends.
“In a way,” sighed Glenda, accepting a drink from Quentin.
“But there are plenty of other fish in the sea.”
“And Julia,” smiled Quentin.
“Yes.. and Julia,” smiled Glenda in return.
* * * * * *
“What about staff at Craigness?”
It was coffee-time after dinner in just about the most expensive restaurant in New York.
“I could take Havers over,” replied Quentin. “I’ve got enough on him to be absolutely sure he keeps his mouth shut. Apart from that, he’d love having Julia occasionally. He’d make a first class factotum.”
“Mmm.. yes.. I agree. I’d need somebody, of course. A general amid.”
“Apart from Julia?”
“Yes.. of course apart from this Julia. We need some proper staff as well.” Glenda sat pensive for quite some time. “I think Rosalie is the answer,” she said at last.
“I’ve got enough on her, too, to keep her quiet. She was that abortionist, remember?”
Quentin didn’t, but nodded. “Right then,” he said, “is it agreed that all the other details are left to me? Organising.. timing.. and so on?” Naturally he had Madame Vesta in mind as the one who was really going to lay it all on. But then, why own a dog and bark?
“Yes.. that’s agreed, Quentin. Order me another brandy, my sweet.”
“A pleasure, my darling,” smiled her swain. “I’m so glad we’re agreed on this one.”
“If we weren’t” answered Glenda, her pale blue eyes just about as cold as slate, “we wouldn’t be getting married.”
“It takes a hard one to know a hard one,” said Quentin.
“Doesn’t it just,” smiled Glenda.
Outwardly she looked as tough as old boots. Inside she was a jelly of excitement at the very idea of having someone like Julia to play games with. After all, it is an accepted fact that the female of the species is cruellest to its own kind.
* * * * * *
E-Mail to the ‘Paradise’:
‘Now on honeymoon. Wish to bring my bride aboard in ten days time’
E-Mail from the ‘Paradise’.
‘You’ll be welcomed aboard. And your bride. Julia is behaving.’
E-Mail to the ‘Paradise’
‘Return Julia to silver. She is to be untouched ready for the arrival of my bride.’
E-Mail from the ‘Paradise’
‘Your instructions received. Will comply. Julia still behaving.’
* * * * * *
Prior to leaving for a month long honeymoon in the Bahamas, Quentin had flown to Scotland, landing at Ayr with his man Havers and then driving North to the remoteness of Craigness.
This was a grey stone manor which Quentin had bought some years before with the idea of using it for salmon-fishing and shooting parties. It had only been used once for such a purpose and had largely remained unoccupied.
“It will need quite a lot of renovation,” Quentin had told Havers, “apart from the modifications I mentioned.”
“I should imagine so,” Havers had smiled. He was a bulletheaded man of around forty with a typical criminal face... an opportunist who had turned his hand to many things; he had also done several stretches. Now Quentin had enough evidence of a certain crime to send him to gaol for life... so naturally Havers was prepared to play ball, whatever Quentin Osman said. Having made the position clear, Quentin did not mention, or threaten Havers, again.
“The main thing is for you to keep your mouth shut tight. See all, hear all, say nothing. I shall pay you will... and you’ll occasionally be able to have some fun yourself. My wife is bringing along a personal maid. If you play your cards right, you should be able to enjoy yourself in that direction as well. Remember, you’ll be alone at Craigness for a lot of the time. Apart from Julia, naturally. But she’ll be kept in her own private quarters. Got it?”
“Yes... I’ve got it. You can trust me, Quentin...”
“That’s why I chose you. Nut just one slip up and your finished Havers.”
“I won’t slip up,” Havers had promised. He knew a good billet when he saw one! Not that he was exactly taken with Craigness when he first arrived. It was a bleak, stark Victorian-style building, all the bleaker when seen in the winter mist.
“You can get builders and decorators from Inverness to do the renovations,” said Quentin. “Spare no expense. I want this place exceedingly comfortable inside. As to the modifications in the cellar, you’ll have to undertake those yourself, on security grounds.”
“Of course...”
“Get in all the materials you need and go to it. You have my outline plan. Soundproofing and escape-proof system are absolutely essential.”
“Of course, boss...”
“Don’t worry about equipment, I shall be bringing that with me.”
“Right...”
So it had been lift before Quentin and his bride flew off into sunnier climates. And he was confident that Havers would do a first rate job in the time allowed. The man was an excellent organiser. Simply a pity that he was a crook.
Tanned and well-rested, Quentin and Glenda flew from the Bahamas to the Far East. There they put themselves in the hands of Madame Vesta’s organisation... and were soon on the secret undercover route that ultimately ended at the ‘Paradise’.
They helicoptered in late one afternoon.
Looking down from a great height, Quentin saw the vessel just as he had left it. Like a toy. Then he thought of its cargo. Its naked cargo, as he had once called it. He thought especially of Julia, his own personal slave. Awaiting his pleasure. And Glenda’s pleasure. It would be amusing to see Julia’s reactions to having to service a woman. And, thought Quentin with a sudden exhilarating glow, I reckon this time I’ll fuck her. There were limits to his initial policy of ‘rejection’!
The plane touched down softly and the blades quietened as they slowly revolved to a halt. Madame Vesta was waiting to receive the couple. She appeared absolutely no different, garbed as ever in black and shod in lace-up boots.
“Welcome aboard,” she called as they reached the deck.
“Hi there, Madame Vesta,” replied Quentin. The thought flashed across his mind that he, and everybody else, always called her Madame Vesta. Not simply Vesta. She was that kind of woman. “Meet Glenda...”
“I’ve been looking forward to your arrival.”
“Thank you, Madame Vesta,” said Glenda. Quentin could see that she, too, was impressed by the owner of the ‘Paradise’. She had the most remarkable aura of authority.
“I expect you’d like to go below and freshen up right away,” said Madame Vesta.
“That would be nice...”
“This time, naturally, I’ve allocated you a double cabin, Quentin.”
“Thanks...”
“And for the moment, I’ve given you just one personal maid. It’s Marisa. If you want another one, just let me know.”
“Sure thing...” Quentin felt pleased it was Marisa and, on the way down to the cabin, he explained to Glenda that the girl was the youngest slave on board.
“Only s*******n!” said Glenda. “My God, poor little bitch. What a life at her age.”
“It’s the luck of the draw,” said Quentin callously. “It’s no use getting soft and sentimental on this ship.”
“Don’t worry,” laughed Glenda. “I think I might surprise you, my dear Quentin. I told you... I am a natural born sadist who, hitherto, has been rather frustrated.”
The cabin was luxurious. Softly lit and furnished with pink d****s and coverlet. The suite was in deep red leather, with white leather cushions; the furniture had a Louis XV look about it. Marisa was kneeling on a foot-stool at the end of the bed, awaiting their arrival. She was, of course, nude but for the tiny little white apron and cap, and a pair of white leather high-heeled shoes. Glenda could not take her eyes off the youngest; she was the first slave-girl she had ever seen.
“Just use the house-phone if there is anything you want.” said Madame Vesta.
“Thank you,” smiled Quentin. Already he was slipping into the unique atmosphere of the ‘Paradise’. The door closed behind their hostess and Quentin put his arm around Glenda.
“It takes a little time to relax.. to acclimatise...”
“Does it?” replied Glenda. There was the faintest trace of a smile on her thin, pale pink lips. She strolled over and stood before the kneeling Marisa. The girl’s eyes flinched as they met the cold blueness of Glenda’s gaze. Then Glenda smacked the girl’s face. Hard. She used the palm of her right hand and, as Marisa’s head jerked round, Glenda gave her an equally hard backhander. Marisa gasped.
“You look a bit cheeky to me,” said Glenda harshly. “Get down and kiss my feet, girl. I like to be shown a little respect by my servants.”
Marisa did not delay a second to do as she had been ordered. Glenda’s eyes looked triumphantly across at Quentin’s.. who stood there with his mouth open. Glenda’s instant action had certainly surprised him. My God, he thought, she is a Dominatrix to the manner born!
“Well.. well...” he said.
“I think I shall acclimatise quite quickly,” said Glenda, giving Marisa a sharp little kick in the shoulder. “Go and run a bath, girl.. and then come back and disrobe me.”
“Yes.. M-Ma’am.. yes.. at once, Ma’am...”
Quentin watched with amusement as Marisa scuttled across the room, her young, tightly-rounded bottom swinging and bouncing. It certainly was a pity about the silver chain!
“And there was me thinking I’d have to wise you up on how to behave here,” laughed Quentin, taking off his jacket.
Glenda’s lips curled fractionally. “Where are the instruments of correction kept?” she asked.
“Usually in a drawer.. the dressing table drawer...”
Glenda went across and opened it. She took out the singlethonged strap and slim, whippy cane with hooked handle which lay there. “These standard?” she enquired.
“More or less.. for bedroom use, that is,” said Quentin.
“Of course, there are longer, thicker and meatier ones for proper punishments. These are just meant to give a girl the odd reminder.”
“I see,” nodded Glenda. She seemed satisfied and replaced the two implements and closed the drawer. A short while later, Marisa came hurrying back into the bedroom.
“Your bath is ready, Ma’am,” she said. She was a cowed and terrified little creature. Understandable. She had received a second birching since her initial one of ten strokes. It had consisted of twenty strokes... and Marisa’s most urgent desire was not to return to that Punishment Room. All her energies, all her mind and will, were devoted to that cause.
“May I undress you, Ma’am?”
Glenda nodded curtly and Quentin, stretched out on the soft bed, and watched idly. Glenda had a svelte, well-kept figure. Good, but without the curvaceousness of a Julia or a Melissa. When the last garment had been removed she strolled to the bathroom with Marisa close in attendance. My wife is obviously going to enjoy herself here, reflected Quentin with an inner smile. So much the better.
Then he considered the afternoon and evening ahead. After he had taken a bath, it might be an idea to send for Julia right away. To get his ex-mistress and his new wife acquainted.
Still, he’d be guided by Glenda’s wishes on that. This was largely for her benefit.
There came the sound of Glenda’s sharp voice from the bathroom.
“My God, girl.. this water’s far too hot for my tender skin. Help me.. out.. quick.. quick!”
Then there was the sound of several hard slaps. Quentin grinned. What a marvellous woman he had married!
“Go and fetch that strap out of the drawer...!”
Quentin grinned even more broadly. Marisa came scurrying in, face tense, to fetch the strap. Then she disappeared again.
“Bend over the stool!”
There was the sound of leather on flesh.. and a gasp from Marisa.
Again.. thwack!
“Oww... oww!”
Again.. thwack!
“Ahh.. owww!”
I wonder how many she’s going to give, thought Quentin. I hope she keeps a sense of proportion. Mild faults should be treated mildly, serious ones seriously. Glenda would learn that.
Again.. thwack!
“Oowww!”
Again.. thwack!
“Aahhh...”
“Get up, girl... and run some cold water in.”
“Y-Yer.. ess.. Ma’am... at once, Ma’am... I beg pardon, Ma’am...”
Five, said Quentin to himself. Sensible woman. That was just about what Marisa’s offence deserved. It did not seem that Glenda had very much to learn.
He closed his eyes to the sloshing sounds of water and Glenda’s crisp orders as she took her bath.
Perhaps he dozed, for when Quentin opened his eyes again, Glenda was seated before the dressing table mirror, wearing a long white dressing gown, and Marisa was brushing her hair.
“Taking a bath? asked Glenda, seeing Quentin awake.
“I think I’ll have a shower,” answered Quentin. “If you’ve finished with Marisa, I’ll have her into soap me.”
Glenda’s lips twitched in a fractional smile. It must, she thought, be quite something for a fat, middle-aged bastard like Quentin to have a ripe 17 year-old do that for him!
Still, good luck to him. He’d been smart enough to organise the whole set-up. “sure,” she said, any time.” She gave Marisa’s reddened bottom a slap. “Run along, girl,” she said. Never, never had she had such a delightful personal servant. How often she had wanted to order some hotel maid about and slap her face if she didn’t please her! Now she could do far more than that.
Quentin stripped off the rest off his clothes and waddled into the bathroom after Marisa. The girl was already running the shower, adjusting the taps to her the right heat and flow. She didn’t want another strapping! She stepped aside as Quentin approached the cubicle.
“Oh no...” he said, “you come in with me...”
Marisa’s pretty features quivered and she bit her lower lip. All the same, she stepped quickly into the shower. Two birchings and a further warning from Madame Vesta had made her realise that, whatever her feelings, she must submit with apparent willingness to the obscene maulings of whatever b**st of a man happened to fancy her. And, it need hardly be said, the gross, pot-bellied Quentin Osman particularly revolted her.
No sooner had she picked up the soap than Quentin pulled her to him, crushing her apple-round breasts to his chest, squeezing those tight bottom cheeks. “Soap me, little one,” he said.
The girl did her best, but could not get very far in his bear-hug.
“I... I can’t do... do any more, Master,” she whispered, “if... if you hold me like this...”
Quentin released her. “Soap my prick,” he said, grinning hugely. He was swelling and stiffening fast. Marisa did as she was told, clenching her teeth. The effort she had to make was very obvious. “That’s good,” said Quentin. The girl went on soaping him, quite unnecessarily.
Then, when he was fully erect, Quentin took the soap from the girl “Open your legs, my pretty” he ordered.
Marisa hesitated. But only for a fraction of a second. The memory of those birching was strong! Looking down into the girl’s face, holding her by her hair so that her head was tilted back, Quentin massaged the slippery bar of soap between the girl’s sex lips.
“Nice?” he asked after a little while.
“Y-Yes... sss... M-Master,” whispered Marisa, blinking back her tears.
“Get hold of my prick...” said Quentin. “That’s it. Now play with it. Gently. Just gently. That’s it...”
He dropped the soap and began to use his fingers between the soapy lips... and then concentrated on the clitoris. “I
am going to make you come,, girlie,” he said lecherously, still gazing down into the distraught features.
“Y-Yes... M-Master...” Marisa shuddered violently. The sickness was rising with her. Yet she had to fight it down. She had to endure this monstrous indecency. She had to!
“Don’t try and fool me,” warned Quentin. “I shall know...”
“Yes... M-Master...”
Quentin frigged the girl expertly, sometimes delving in with his fingers. He knew what he was about and he knew the girl would not be able to resist him, despite all her loathing and revulsion. That was the way of the world!
Soon he was aware of a greater warmth and an even greater wetness of the soft young lips which parted so easily under his probing, titillating fingers.
“Nice?” He breathed.
“Y-Y-Yes.. ss.. Master...” nodded Marisa. The tears were running down her cheeks.
“Feel you’re going to come soon?”
“Y-Yes, M-Master...”
Grinning lasciviously, Quentin worked his fingers faster. My God, only s*******n he thought... and his prick jerked under the girl’s gentle massaging. He’d have to be careful.
Much as he would have liked to let go, it would be wise to save himself for something even more enjoyable later.
Marisa began to moan, her eyes closing. Then her haunches and bottom began to give little jerks.
“That’s it,” said Quentin, “lovely, isn’t it, eh?”
Marisa had began to pant. Quentin knew the girl had passed the point of no return... and he revelled in it.
“Go on... spend... spend... you little beauty,” he said thickly.
The young body... the sex all hot and slippery... suddenly jerked violently and Marisa collapsed against him, her mouth opening, harsh rasping sounds coming from it.
“Lovely... just lovely...” smiled Quentin, continuing to titillate his victim until the last spasm was rung from her.
Then he gave the girl’s bottom a stinging slap. “O.K... off with you, little one,” he ordered with a raucous laugh. Sobbing, face buried in her hands, Marisa tottered out of the shower.
Still laughing, Quentin turned on the cold water. Partly to remove the soap, partly to freshen himself up, but mainly to get rid of his erection. Marisa was still drying herself when he emerged... and he wondered in the bedroom with his bath-towel d****d around himself.
“What have you two been up to?” asked Glenda, with a mockexpression of wifely indignation on her face.
“Nothing... nothing, my dear,” answered Quentin, smiling away wickedly.
“I don’t believe you,” said Glenda smiling back.
“Well... I couldn’t have been fucking her, could I?” he said. “Not with her having that silver chain on.”
“I wouldn’t put it post you...”
“Oh no... I very much respect Madame Vesta’s rule on that.”
“Well, what were you up to?”
Quentin managed to look suitably guilty. “I played with her. Frigged her.
Till she came...”
“Lucky her!” laughed Glenda. She could just imagine what it must have been like for that girl to have to submit to such attentions from Quentin. The idea pleased her greatly. Yes... life aboard the ‘Paradise’ was certainly going to be fun.
“Yes.. lucky her,” agreed Quentin.
“What’s the programme?” enquired Glenda, in a wifely way.
“That’s rather up to you, my dear,” said Quentin, all husbandly concern.
“Thanks...”
“We could have Julia sent up. We’ve got a couple of hours to play with before evening drinkies with Madame Vesta.”
“Not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all...”
“You might as well make the young lady’s acquaintance as soon as possible.”
“Yes,” nodded Glenda. “I must say I’ve been looking forward to that.”
Quentin picked up the house-phone.
“Mr Osman, speaking,” he said. “Have Julia sent up to my cabin right away.”
“Certainly, Sir,” answered the unseen voice.
Quentin replaced the receiver and towelled himself dry. Then he put on a dressing gown and seated himself in one of the armchairs to wait.
And he, like Glenda, waited most expectantly.
Glenda Heine, wife-to-be of Quentin Osman eased herself further into the soft cushions piled on the Ottoman upon which she reclined. She wore a lightweight trouser-suit of flower design. Her light, blonde hair fell to her shoulders and this lessened the hardness of her rather angular face.
She was a woman who once might have been pretty but now, in mid-thirties, was no longer that. On the other hand, she had not become a beauty. In effect, she had one of those rather timeless American faces. Rather immobile; verging on the ‘plastic’.
“Very well,” smiled Quentin Osman.
He never felt quite at ease in Glenda’s luxurious penthouse apartment. Not did he ever know quite why that was. It was a pity she hadn’t agreed to come to his house on the outskirts of town.
“Been fucking yourself silly, I suppose,” said Glenda with a little curl of her pale-pink, almost translucent lips.
Very thin lips, they were.
“Not so...” answered Quentin with a certain demureness.
“You mean to say, after all you’ve done - and paid – you haven’t been really taking it out of that bitch?”
“I’ve been taking it out of her,” answered Quentin quietly, “but, it so happens, I haven’t been fucking her.”
Glenda Heine looked slightly incredulous. She knew her Quentin... and just how he felt about Julia.
“I can’t believe it,” she said.
“True though,” smiled Quentin. “Mind you - I had a little touch of here and there with some of the others.”
Glenda smiled in return. “Ahh... that’s more like it.
That’s how thing go on the ‘Paradise’.
“Yes... that’s how they go,” agreed Quentin.
“Well... tell me all about it then...”
Glenda had been expecting Quentin to be brimming over with details of all the fun he’d had with his ex-Mistress – now his slave. But in the main seemed strangely reticent.
“Not much point,” said Quentin. “The girl wants to remain as my personal slave indefinitely. And yours, too. She said she would serve you in any way you want. Just as she has to serve me.”
“Sounds interesting,” replied Glenda, raising pencil-thin eyebrows.
“Does she mean it?”
“She can’t help but mean it,” answered Quentin. “I own her body and soul. I’ve only to send a mail at this very minute and I can have her whipped.”
“Even more interesting,” smiled Glenda. “I always knew you were a sadist Quentin. Did you know I was one too?”
“I guessed it,” nodded Quentin. “Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why we get on so well together.”
“The difference is, I’ve never properly been able to indulge my sadism.” said Glenda. “Never had an unwilling girl please me. I reckon that would be really something.”
“It is,” grinned Quentin lecherously. His mind flickered reflectively over the delights of Melissa.
“So, are you asking me something? I gather you want this Julia as some kind of permanent slave. I don’t quite know how you’re going to organise that. Especially from the security point of view.”
“Yes... I am asking you something,” replied Quentin. “I want you to agree to both of us having Julia as a slave. To serve us in every way. But, particularly in sexual ways. It won’t interfere with our own relationship.”
Glenda smiled wryly. “No, I imagine not,” she said. “I’m all for this. It’s just that I don’t see how it can be arranged.”
“Craigness,” said Quentin. “We own it. It’s isolated. Just needs a little conversion... and we can keep her there.”
“Possible...”
“But I’d like you to look her over first.”
“Julia, you mean? Well, I wouldn’t mind. Just for kicks.”
“But you agree in principle to what I am suggesting?“
“That we keep the girl as a slave? Oh yes! It sounds the greatest fun. I just want to make sure about the security aspect.”
“Leave that to me... and Madame Vesta.”
“Very well...”
Quentin Osman stood up and moved towards the drinks cabinet. He had not though that Glenda would make any objection to his proposal, still he was glad everything had gone so smoothly.
Perhaps that was the main reason why he intended to marry Glenda. She was the kind of woman who took the most bizarre sort of suggestion without turning a hair. A kink. A pervert. Unbalanced in so many ways. Yet absolutely balanced when it mattered most. Yes... he liked that type.
“And have you had a good time while I’ve been away?” he asked.
“Not very,” answered Glenda. “Had a row with Sandra. I’ve got an idea she’s falling out of love with me.”
“Oh dear... what a pity...” Quentin was aware that Sandra was one of Glenda’s most long-standing girl-friends.
“In a way,” sighed Glenda, accepting a drink from Quentin.
“But there are plenty of other fish in the sea.”
“And Julia,” smiled Quentin.
“Yes.. and Julia,” smiled Glenda in return.
* * * * * *
“What about staff at Craigness?”
It was coffee-time after dinner in just about the most expensive restaurant in New York.
“I could take Havers over,” replied Quentin. “I’ve got enough on him to be absolutely sure he keeps his mouth shut. Apart from that, he’d love having Julia occasionally. He’d make a first class factotum.”
“Mmm.. yes.. I agree. I’d need somebody, of course. A general amid.”
“Apart from Julia?”
“Yes.. of course apart from this Julia. We need some proper staff as well.” Glenda sat pensive for quite some time. “I think Rosalie is the answer,” she said at last.
“I’ve got enough on her, too, to keep her quiet. She was that abortionist, remember?”
Quentin didn’t, but nodded. “Right then,” he said, “is it agreed that all the other details are left to me? Organising.. timing.. and so on?” Naturally he had Madame Vesta in mind as the one who was really going to lay it all on. But then, why own a dog and bark?
“Yes.. that’s agreed, Quentin. Order me another brandy, my sweet.”
“A pleasure, my darling,” smiled her swain. “I’m so glad we’re agreed on this one.”
“If we weren’t” answered Glenda, her pale blue eyes just about as cold as slate, “we wouldn’t be getting married.”
“It takes a hard one to know a hard one,” said Quentin.
“Doesn’t it just,” smiled Glenda.
Outwardly she looked as tough as old boots. Inside she was a jelly of excitement at the very idea of having someone like Julia to play games with. After all, it is an accepted fact that the female of the species is cruellest to its own kind.
* * * * * *
E-Mail to the ‘Paradise’:
‘Now on honeymoon. Wish to bring my bride aboard in ten days time’
E-Mail from the ‘Paradise’.
‘You’ll be welcomed aboard. And your bride. Julia is behaving.’
E-Mail to the ‘Paradise’
‘Return Julia to silver. She is to be untouched ready for the arrival of my bride.’
E-Mail from the ‘Paradise’
‘Your instructions received. Will comply. Julia still behaving.’
* * * * * *
Prior to leaving for a month long honeymoon in the Bahamas, Quentin had flown to Scotland, landing at Ayr with his man Havers and then driving North to the remoteness of Craigness.
This was a grey stone manor which Quentin had bought some years before with the idea of using it for salmon-fishing and shooting parties. It had only been used once for such a purpose and had largely remained unoccupied.
“It will need quite a lot of renovation,” Quentin had told Havers, “apart from the modifications I mentioned.”
“I should imagine so,” Havers had smiled. He was a bulletheaded man of around forty with a typical criminal face... an opportunist who had turned his hand to many things; he had also done several stretches. Now Quentin had enough evidence of a certain crime to send him to gaol for life... so naturally Havers was prepared to play ball, whatever Quentin Osman said. Having made the position clear, Quentin did not mention, or threaten Havers, again.
“The main thing is for you to keep your mouth shut tight. See all, hear all, say nothing. I shall pay you will... and you’ll occasionally be able to have some fun yourself. My wife is bringing along a personal maid. If you play your cards right, you should be able to enjoy yourself in that direction as well. Remember, you’ll be alone at Craigness for a lot of the time. Apart from Julia, naturally. But she’ll be kept in her own private quarters. Got it?”
“Yes... I’ve got it. You can trust me, Quentin...”
“That’s why I chose you. Nut just one slip up and your finished Havers.”
“I won’t slip up,” Havers had promised. He knew a good billet when he saw one! Not that he was exactly taken with Craigness when he first arrived. It was a bleak, stark Victorian-style building, all the bleaker when seen in the winter mist.
“You can get builders and decorators from Inverness to do the renovations,” said Quentin. “Spare no expense. I want this place exceedingly comfortable inside. As to the modifications in the cellar, you’ll have to undertake those yourself, on security grounds.”
“Of course...”
“Get in all the materials you need and go to it. You have my outline plan. Soundproofing and escape-proof system are absolutely essential.”
“Of course, boss...”
“Don’t worry about equipment, I shall be bringing that with me.”
“Right...”
So it had been lift before Quentin and his bride flew off into sunnier climates. And he was confident that Havers would do a first rate job in the time allowed. The man was an excellent organiser. Simply a pity that he was a crook.
Tanned and well-rested, Quentin and Glenda flew from the Bahamas to the Far East. There they put themselves in the hands of Madame Vesta’s organisation... and were soon on the secret undercover route that ultimately ended at the ‘Paradise’.
They helicoptered in late one afternoon.
Looking down from a great height, Quentin saw the vessel just as he had left it. Like a toy. Then he thought of its cargo. Its naked cargo, as he had once called it. He thought especially of Julia, his own personal slave. Awaiting his pleasure. And Glenda’s pleasure. It would be amusing to see Julia’s reactions to having to service a woman. And, thought Quentin with a sudden exhilarating glow, I reckon this time I’ll fuck her. There were limits to his initial policy of ‘rejection’!
The plane touched down softly and the blades quietened as they slowly revolved to a halt. Madame Vesta was waiting to receive the couple. She appeared absolutely no different, garbed as ever in black and shod in lace-up boots.
“Welcome aboard,” she called as they reached the deck.
“Hi there, Madame Vesta,” replied Quentin. The thought flashed across his mind that he, and everybody else, always called her Madame Vesta. Not simply Vesta. She was that kind of woman. “Meet Glenda...”
“I’ve been looking forward to your arrival.”
“Thank you, Madame Vesta,” said Glenda. Quentin could see that she, too, was impressed by the owner of the ‘Paradise’. She had the most remarkable aura of authority.
“I expect you’d like to go below and freshen up right away,” said Madame Vesta.
“That would be nice...”
“This time, naturally, I’ve allocated you a double cabin, Quentin.”
“Thanks...”
“And for the moment, I’ve given you just one personal maid. It’s Marisa. If you want another one, just let me know.”
“Sure thing...” Quentin felt pleased it was Marisa and, on the way down to the cabin, he explained to Glenda that the girl was the youngest slave on board.
“Only s*******n!” said Glenda. “My God, poor little bitch. What a life at her age.”
“It’s the luck of the draw,” said Quentin callously. “It’s no use getting soft and sentimental on this ship.”
“Don’t worry,” laughed Glenda. “I think I might surprise you, my dear Quentin. I told you... I am a natural born sadist who, hitherto, has been rather frustrated.”
The cabin was luxurious. Softly lit and furnished with pink d****s and coverlet. The suite was in deep red leather, with white leather cushions; the furniture had a Louis XV look about it. Marisa was kneeling on a foot-stool at the end of the bed, awaiting their arrival. She was, of course, nude but for the tiny little white apron and cap, and a pair of white leather high-heeled shoes. Glenda could not take her eyes off the youngest; she was the first slave-girl she had ever seen.
“Just use the house-phone if there is anything you want.” said Madame Vesta.
“Thank you,” smiled Quentin. Already he was slipping into the unique atmosphere of the ‘Paradise’. The door closed behind their hostess and Quentin put his arm around Glenda.
“It takes a little time to relax.. to acclimatise...”
“Does it?” replied Glenda. There was the faintest trace of a smile on her thin, pale pink lips. She strolled over and stood before the kneeling Marisa. The girl’s eyes flinched as they met the cold blueness of Glenda’s gaze. Then Glenda smacked the girl’s face. Hard. She used the palm of her right hand and, as Marisa’s head jerked round, Glenda gave her an equally hard backhander. Marisa gasped.
“You look a bit cheeky to me,” said Glenda harshly. “Get down and kiss my feet, girl. I like to be shown a little respect by my servants.”
Marisa did not delay a second to do as she had been ordered. Glenda’s eyes looked triumphantly across at Quentin’s.. who stood there with his mouth open. Glenda’s instant action had certainly surprised him. My God, he thought, she is a Dominatrix to the manner born!
“Well.. well...” he said.
“I think I shall acclimatise quite quickly,” said Glenda, giving Marisa a sharp little kick in the shoulder. “Go and run a bath, girl.. and then come back and disrobe me.”
“Yes.. M-Ma’am.. yes.. at once, Ma’am...”
Quentin watched with amusement as Marisa scuttled across the room, her young, tightly-rounded bottom swinging and bouncing. It certainly was a pity about the silver chain!
“And there was me thinking I’d have to wise you up on how to behave here,” laughed Quentin, taking off his jacket.
Glenda’s lips curled fractionally. “Where are the instruments of correction kept?” she asked.
“Usually in a drawer.. the dressing table drawer...”
Glenda went across and opened it. She took out the singlethonged strap and slim, whippy cane with hooked handle which lay there. “These standard?” she enquired.
“More or less.. for bedroom use, that is,” said Quentin.
“Of course, there are longer, thicker and meatier ones for proper punishments. These are just meant to give a girl the odd reminder.”
“I see,” nodded Glenda. She seemed satisfied and replaced the two implements and closed the drawer. A short while later, Marisa came hurrying back into the bedroom.
“Your bath is ready, Ma’am,” she said. She was a cowed and terrified little creature. Understandable. She had received a second birching since her initial one of ten strokes. It had consisted of twenty strokes... and Marisa’s most urgent desire was not to return to that Punishment Room. All her energies, all her mind and will, were devoted to that cause.
“May I undress you, Ma’am?”
Glenda nodded curtly and Quentin, stretched out on the soft bed, and watched idly. Glenda had a svelte, well-kept figure. Good, but without the curvaceousness of a Julia or a Melissa. When the last garment had been removed she strolled to the bathroom with Marisa close in attendance. My wife is obviously going to enjoy herself here, reflected Quentin with an inner smile. So much the better.
Then he considered the afternoon and evening ahead. After he had taken a bath, it might be an idea to send for Julia right away. To get his ex-mistress and his new wife acquainted.
Still, he’d be guided by Glenda’s wishes on that. This was largely for her benefit.
There came the sound of Glenda’s sharp voice from the bathroom.
“My God, girl.. this water’s far too hot for my tender skin. Help me.. out.. quick.. quick!”
Then there was the sound of several hard slaps. Quentin grinned. What a marvellous woman he had married!
“Go and fetch that strap out of the drawer...!”
Quentin grinned even more broadly. Marisa came scurrying in, face tense, to fetch the strap. Then she disappeared again.
“Bend over the stool!”
There was the sound of leather on flesh.. and a gasp from Marisa.
Again.. thwack!
“Oww... oww!”
Again.. thwack!
“Ahh.. owww!”
I wonder how many she’s going to give, thought Quentin. I hope she keeps a sense of proportion. Mild faults should be treated mildly, serious ones seriously. Glenda would learn that.
Again.. thwack!
“Oowww!”
Again.. thwack!
“Aahhh...”
“Get up, girl... and run some cold water in.”
“Y-Yer.. ess.. Ma’am... at once, Ma’am... I beg pardon, Ma’am...”
Five, said Quentin to himself. Sensible woman. That was just about what Marisa’s offence deserved. It did not seem that Glenda had very much to learn.
He closed his eyes to the sloshing sounds of water and Glenda’s crisp orders as she took her bath.
Perhaps he dozed, for when Quentin opened his eyes again, Glenda was seated before the dressing table mirror, wearing a long white dressing gown, and Marisa was brushing her hair.
“Taking a bath? asked Glenda, seeing Quentin awake.
“I think I’ll have a shower,” answered Quentin. “If you’ve finished with Marisa, I’ll have her into soap me.”
Glenda’s lips twitched in a fractional smile. It must, she thought, be quite something for a fat, middle-aged bastard like Quentin to have a ripe 17 year-old do that for him!
Still, good luck to him. He’d been smart enough to organise the whole set-up. “sure,” she said, any time.” She gave Marisa’s reddened bottom a slap. “Run along, girl,” she said. Never, never had she had such a delightful personal servant. How often she had wanted to order some hotel maid about and slap her face if she didn’t please her! Now she could do far more than that.
Quentin stripped off the rest off his clothes and waddled into the bathroom after Marisa. The girl was already running the shower, adjusting the taps to her the right heat and flow. She didn’t want another strapping! She stepped aside as Quentin approached the cubicle.
“Oh no...” he said, “you come in with me...”
Marisa’s pretty features quivered and she bit her lower lip. All the same, she stepped quickly into the shower. Two birchings and a further warning from Madame Vesta had made her realise that, whatever her feelings, she must submit with apparent willingness to the obscene maulings of whatever b**st of a man happened to fancy her. And, it need hardly be said, the gross, pot-bellied Quentin Osman particularly revolted her.
No sooner had she picked up the soap than Quentin pulled her to him, crushing her apple-round breasts to his chest, squeezing those tight bottom cheeks. “Soap me, little one,” he said.
The girl did her best, but could not get very far in his bear-hug.
“I... I can’t do... do any more, Master,” she whispered, “if... if you hold me like this...”
Quentin released her. “Soap my prick,” he said, grinning hugely. He was swelling and stiffening fast. Marisa did as she was told, clenching her teeth. The effort she had to make was very obvious. “That’s good,” said Quentin. The girl went on soaping him, quite unnecessarily.
Then, when he was fully erect, Quentin took the soap from the girl “Open your legs, my pretty” he ordered.
Marisa hesitated. But only for a fraction of a second. The memory of those birching was strong! Looking down into the girl’s face, holding her by her hair so that her head was tilted back, Quentin massaged the slippery bar of soap between the girl’s sex lips.
“Nice?” he asked after a little while.
“Y-Yes... sss... M-Master,” whispered Marisa, blinking back her tears.
“Get hold of my prick...” said Quentin. “That’s it. Now play with it. Gently. Just gently. That’s it...”
He dropped the soap and began to use his fingers between the soapy lips... and then concentrated on the clitoris. “I
am going to make you come,, girlie,” he said lecherously, still gazing down into the distraught features.
“Y-Yes... M-Master...” Marisa shuddered violently. The sickness was rising with her. Yet she had to fight it down. She had to endure this monstrous indecency. She had to!
“Don’t try and fool me,” warned Quentin. “I shall know...”
“Yes... M-Master...”
Quentin frigged the girl expertly, sometimes delving in with his fingers. He knew what he was about and he knew the girl would not be able to resist him, despite all her loathing and revulsion. That was the way of the world!
Soon he was aware of a greater warmth and an even greater wetness of the soft young lips which parted so easily under his probing, titillating fingers.
“Nice?” He breathed.
“Y-Y-Yes.. ss.. Master...” nodded Marisa. The tears were running down her cheeks.
“Feel you’re going to come soon?”
“Y-Yes, M-Master...”
Grinning lasciviously, Quentin worked his fingers faster. My God, only s*******n he thought... and his prick jerked under the girl’s gentle massaging. He’d have to be careful.
Much as he would have liked to let go, it would be wise to save himself for something even more enjoyable later.
Marisa began to moan, her eyes closing. Then her haunches and bottom began to give little jerks.
“That’s it,” said Quentin, “lovely, isn’t it, eh?”
Marisa had began to pant. Quentin knew the girl had passed the point of no return... and he revelled in it.
“Go on... spend... spend... you little beauty,” he said thickly.
The young body... the sex all hot and slippery... suddenly jerked violently and Marisa collapsed against him, her mouth opening, harsh rasping sounds coming from it.
“Lovely... just lovely...” smiled Quentin, continuing to titillate his victim until the last spasm was rung from her.
Then he gave the girl’s bottom a stinging slap. “O.K... off with you, little one,” he ordered with a raucous laugh. Sobbing, face buried in her hands, Marisa tottered out of the shower.
Still laughing, Quentin turned on the cold water. Partly to remove the soap, partly to freshen himself up, but mainly to get rid of his erection. Marisa was still drying herself when he emerged... and he wondered in the bedroom with his bath-towel d****d around himself.
“What have you two been up to?” asked Glenda, with a mockexpression of wifely indignation on her face.
“Nothing... nothing, my dear,” answered Quentin, smiling away wickedly.
“I don’t believe you,” said Glenda smiling back.
“Well... I couldn’t have been fucking her, could I?” he said. “Not with her having that silver chain on.”
“I wouldn’t put it post you...”
“Oh no... I very much respect Madame Vesta’s rule on that.”
“Well, what were you up to?”
Quentin managed to look suitably guilty. “I played with her. Frigged her.
Till she came...”
“Lucky her!” laughed Glenda. She could just imagine what it must have been like for that girl to have to submit to such attentions from Quentin. The idea pleased her greatly. Yes... life aboard the ‘Paradise’ was certainly going to be fun.
“Yes.. lucky her,” agreed Quentin.
“What’s the programme?” enquired Glenda, in a wifely way.
“That’s rather up to you, my dear,” said Quentin, all husbandly concern.
“Thanks...”
“We could have Julia sent up. We’ve got a couple of hours to play with before evening drinkies with Madame Vesta.”
“Not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all...”
“You might as well make the young lady’s acquaintance as soon as possible.”
“Yes,” nodded Glenda. “I must say I’ve been looking forward to that.”
Quentin picked up the house-phone.
“Mr Osman, speaking,” he said. “Have Julia sent up to my cabin right away.”
“Certainly, Sir,” answered the unseen voice.
Quentin replaced the receiver and towelled himself dry. Then he put on a dressing gown and seated himself in one of the armchairs to wait.
And he, like Glenda, waited most expectantly.
Julianne
- 03.05.2020
- 13
- 0
