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Story of Sandrine (1)
By Perverpeper on 05/15/08
F/f F+/f F/f+ F+/f+ teen enema exhibition WaterSport bestriality BDSM feet hair slavery scatology college hightSchool job slow reluctant humiliation blckmail torture nc Heavy
Summary: Sandrine is a young high school student. A few days after celebrating her 18th birthday with college only a few weeks away, she is kidnapped by a rich woman who will introduce her to the pains and the joys of submission.
Comment : This is a translation from the french version. Please, let me know what you think about it.
Target the passions rather than the virtues when you want to persuade a woman.
– D. A. F. Marquis de Sade.
Chapter 1: The kidnapping
Players (In order of appearance):
Sandrine: Young high school student who turned 18 only a few days ago
Madame: Pretty blonde in her 40s, Mistress of Lisette
Lisette: Little maidservant around 20, serving Madame
Ghislaine: Friend of Sandrine
Sylvie: Friend of Sandrine
I wake up with a throbbing pain in my head. I open my eyes but a total darkness prevents me from seeing anything. A terrible panic fills my mind and I try to rise quickly when I feel an even more terrible pain across my shoulders.
My wrists are locked in place… My arms are tied above my head… Same thing for my legs. In fact, I’m immobilized horizontally on a very uncomfortable surface. The strain of my effort has revived my headache and I have no other option except to let go of the tension in my body.
“HEL…” No sound escapes my mouth. A rag is jammed between my teeth, tightly secured in place by a muzzle that cuts across the nape of my neck. A deafening silence surrounds me. I hear no noise from cars, birds or voices at all.
Where am I? What time is it? My recollections are hazy. I spent the day at school…. But that’s all I can remember. A chill travels the length of my body from head to toe. Someone grabbed me. I was kidnapped.
I try to turn on my back with all the strength I have left but the shackles holding my wrists and my ankles are solidly anchored and keep them implacably spread apart.
A profound despair overtakes me. What will happen to me? What kind of horrible monster would commit such a terrible act? I know that my parents have a tough time making ends meet and that they will never have the means to pay a ransom.
I don’t have any enemies, quite the contrary. The graduating class in which I belong is one in which I had the most fun of all my school years. All the boys court me and… That’s it… My kidnapper is obviously a high school kid who didn’t like the way I got rid of him. Instantly, I think of Julien who spends his time making advances at me and who I put in his place rather sharply last week. A rush of adrenaline hits me. He will take by force what I refused to give him. Still, he looked kind of nice and in love too… He has been chasing me since the beginning of the school year, but there’s nothing I can do about it, I have no attraction whatsoever for boys.
A noise in the distance breaks my train of thought. The sound of heels hitting the floor reaches me and grows louder, accompanied by a weaker clicking sound I can only identify the moment a key is pushed into the lock. My blood stops cold. The door opens with a squeaking noise and I must crane my neck to locate my kidnapper. Unfortunately, the light coming from the open door blinds me. I can only detect a shadow.
“So Sandrine, are you awake?”
A female voice… A woman kidnapped me. A little reassured, I stretch as much as my bonds allow it to make out my visitor, but an unyielding light makes me groan in the gag as it burns my eyes. The room in which I am a prisoner is equipped with very powerful lights.
“Don’t worry, I don’t want to hurt you”, she said with a surprisingly low voice.
She moves closer to me and leans forward, bringing her face close to mine and shielding my eyes from the blinding light. She’s a woman in her 40s, pretty good-looking. Her face looks familiar, not that I can tell why. She puts her hand on my forehead and caresses me softly while my eyes get accustomed to the light. I am lying down level with her hips and I look at her, my eyes wide with horror.
“You remember me?” she asks, placing her lips on my forehead.
I thrash around in my bonds trying to avoid her contact.
“Careful my pretty one, there is only you and me here, and I just told you that I don’t want to hurt you.”
I groan louder.
“Come on, be patient, young girl, as soon as you quiet down, I will remove this sorry gag from your lovely mouth.”
Her hand continues to lightly brush my forehead. A thousand questions form in my head: Who is she? What does she want from me? Why did she bring me here? Her mouth moves closer again. I move my head away again, but a sharp slap makes me break down and cry.
“I told you that I don’t want to hurt you but you must see to it that you do not test my limits, my dear. In case you hadn’t noticed, I am the one who decides, I am the one who feeds you, I am the one chooses when you can go to the bathroom. In short, you are entirely at my mercy. No-one knows where you are and this place is sufficiently isolated for anyone to come here and look for you.”
She grabs something from behind my head and wraps it around my forehead. It feels like a belt attached to the contraption on which I am immobilized because with the strap in place, it becomes impossible for me to move my head.
I close my eyes and the contact of her tongue on my cheek makes me jump. She is licking my tears.
“Too bad you are not reasonable my pretty one. Your stay here might become rather unpleasant if you don’t make a bit of an effort.”
I feel like I’m in hell. Quartered, locked in place, at the mercy of a crazy woman that I don’t know. Sporting an impeccable pony tail pulling her blond hair back, her wide blue eyes stand out from her severe face as they look at me pitilessly. She looks like a predator circling her prey. Her voice, with its calm tone, gives a stark contrast to her severe expression. Unable to move my head, I look away like a little girl caught doing something wrong to avoid her stare.
Suddenly, I choke. She has pinched my nose using her thumb and index finger and tells me slowly, articulating each word:
“You know my dear, I can do whatever I want to your beautiful body. I have the power of life and death over you…”
Struck by panic, I do not hear the end of her sentence. My lungs start to burn horribly. She is going to kill me, that’s for sure. I see small dots of light dancing in front of my eyes. I scream in my gag which now slips to the back of my mouth, sucked in by my throat. I am suffocating. This is the end.
“So, Sandrine, have you decided to become reasonable?” she asks, letting me take in a large breath. Her voice seems to come from another world. Panting, I catch my breath with great difficulty.
At the end of my rope, I agree by making unintelligible sounds and by trying to shake my head yes in spite of the belt holding it in place.
“Good for you,” she says, leaning forward again to collect a new tear with the tip of her tongue.
“I always get what I want. You will learn that.” She carefully removes the muzzle around my head before extracting the rag gag from between my lips, crumpled and totally soaked after its time in my mouth.
I am swimming in sweat as drops trickle down my seemingly bloodless face. Beads streak down my temples and neck.
“W…W…Why?” I ask stuttering, my breathing uneven.
“W…W…Who are you?”
“You do not need to know that.” She answers with a harsh voice. “For you, as well as the others, I am ‘Madame’. I hope that you will remember that.” She adds, pressing her lips delicately against mine.
Then, without a word, she turns and leaves the room, leaving me alone in the middle of a nightmare while the sound of her heels hitting the floor grows weaker and weaker, quickly absorbed by the silence of the room.
I realize that I am tired. My muscles are as stiff as they get after a day of physical education. My parents’ house, my school year, college, all my usual worries seem like distant memories and totally secondary.
The rough surface on which I am lying hurts my back and my shoulders. A thought invades me: What does she want from me?
A new wave of despair overcomes me. Tears fill my eyes as I look up to the high ceiling. Through a blurred vision, I can barely make out the white tiling that entirely covers it. I am devastated. No matter how hard I try to turn my eyes sideways, I cannot see much of anything. The coldness of coating covering the ceiling and the walls and the lighting which looks like the kind you see in an operating room give me the impression that I am in a hospital.
Unconsciously, I let my spirit wonder. I see myself back in high school at the end of classes. There we were all three of us strolling down the sidewalk and talking about our upcoming college days, one of our main concerns. Sylvie and Ghislaine, my two childhood friends, were with me.
“Ghis” has the same brown hair as I do, as opposed to the blond mane of “Syl”. We came across a group of boys and a few whistles came from behind us after we had passed. We had all agreed a long time ago that we would not turn around whenever that happened. Only a word that sounded like “perverse” or “pretentious” reached my ears. I have to admit that my friends never held back as far as being seductive was concerned. They both had miniskirts on and “Ghis” wore shoes with four-centimeter heels. As for “Syl”, she wore her faithful black boots with low heels.
My two friends are two hot beauties and in spite of their mediocre grades at school, I have no worries about their future. They both signed a contract with a modeling agency that had already landed them each a modeling job.
As opposed to them, I do not like drawing attention to my body. My favorite way to dress remains, since childhood, the traditional “black Converse Jeans”. However, my pride got stroked by the telling stares I got from the boys who all looked at me from head to toe with keen eyes.
Men were not my “cup of tea”. In my deepest, most intimate secrets, I knew with certainty that girls were what attracted me. “Syl” fascinated me and “Ghis” interested me almost as much. Still, never would I ever dare confess about the flame that burned in my soul all those years. Probably because of the education I had received from my parents whom I adored, even if today I only saw them on the rare occasions I did not sleep away from home.
“Ok girls, let me buy you a drink,” said Sylvie. They were both from well-off families and I admired the ease with which they discreetly displayed their good fortune. Neither one of them would ever lead me to believe that I did not belong in the social circle. Good thing too because I would not have allowed it.
Under a blazing sun, we took seats on the terrace of a café, happy to escape the heavy atmosphere of this whirlwind period. The beginning of this June weekend looked fabulous.
Suddenly, a flash comes to mind. A few tables away, a group of business women, or at least that’s what their attire seemed to say, were discussing under the shade of a parasol. The most elegant one of them kept looking at me with an interest that made me blush.
It was her… It was that woman who had taken me… The latest events were so crazy that I had almost forgotten about that.
Engrossed in my conversation with the girls, I had stopped paying attention to her. We enjoyed our drinks and then… A black hole… As if I had never left the terrace of that café.
This memory fells like a cold shower and abruptly brings me back to the harsh reality of my condition. That explains why this woman has asked me if I remembered her. New tears blind me. An uncontrollable sorrow seizes me. I start to sob, sniffling loudly.
A terrible urge to urinate suddenly makes me come out of my lethargic state. Aching all over, I guess I must have slept for a moment… Or a few hours. I totally lost track of time, and the urge turns quickly into a nightmare. How long have I been held prisoner in this horrible place? I absolutely have to go to the bathroom without delay. “It is me who decides when you can go to the bathroom.” The words resonate in my poor head.
All false pride now gone, I start to scream:
“HELP!!! GET ME OUT OF HERE… CAN YOU HEAR ME? IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE?”
Try as I might to fight this for the longest time…
‘MADAME!!! I BEG OF YOU!!! HELP!!!”
No-one answers my calls. My ordeal takes on dramatic proportions. If she doesn’t free immediately, I will have to pee in my panties just like a little girl.
But my pleas remain unanswered. My bladder has become so painful that, with the greatest shame, I let go like a little girl, inundating my undergarments at the cost of some unparallel relief. I feel the wetness progress between my pant legs, soon to be replaced by a cold sensation brought on by evaporation. The minutes inch by and the strong odor of my perspiration is overtaken by the more acid one of my “pee”.
I no longer count how many times I cried. Never in my life have I felt such a humiliation. I shiver. I feel my nipples stick out as if they were going to pierce through my bra.
It is true horror. Unable to stop sobbing, I lapse once again into an agitated sleep filled with strange dreams which leave me with only odd memories.
My clothes completely dried out during my sleep. The smell now more tenacious than ever fills my nostrils. The room temperature is hot and I am not cold anymore but curiously, my nipples are still as hard as before.
I must have slept for a long time because I feel rested. Only the pain in my back and my arms would bother me were it not for that stubborn odor I have a tough time getting used to. My throat is dry and I begin to feel thirsty.
An unusual heat has taken hold of my chest, much like a light itch. The need for a massage invades my thoughts. It is not the first time this happens to me but I am amazed that it can occur under such circumstances. I felt the same way before one evening I was alone in my room. I was thinking about Sylvie, about her stunning body, her long legs and her perfect chest. That day, we had gone to the pool. There were only the two of us and, after swimming and playing around for a long time, we had hit the shower together. Certain of not being bothered, she had taken everything off until she was completely naked and while she was washing her hair, I turned to look at her discreetly.
She is blond from head to toe and I really enjoyed the delicious view she gave me… The sound of footsteps and keys getting closer to my prison interrupts my train of thought.
It is the crazy woman coming back. I cannot help but hope that this situation will not last and that the time to go free is near. She enters the room and moves towards me at a steady pace.
“Surprise Sandrine” she says moving closer. Her tone of voice is severe, low and demanding. “Yuck… I can smell a little girl that neglected herself here.”
I turn red with shame. Of course, she noticed the ‘little accident’ I had a moment ago. Her hand caresses my cheeks softly.
“I hope that now you understand who decides here.” Her green eyes go right through me. She is wearing a dress made of black leather that contrasts with her blond mane of hair and enhances her inherently severe look.
“Yes, yes, I’m begging you! Untie me!”
“Well my dear, you look in better spirits. It is true that it’s not very comfortable here. Let me make a deal with you…”
“Anything you want but please, untie me!”
“So be it. I will start”, she says untying the belt that kept my head immobile, then adding: “It’s your turn now. What do you have for me in return?”
The question surprises me; I don’t know what to answer. “Well, er, I don’t know…”
A crooked smile appears on her face. “You could give me a small kiss… on the mouth…” she says leaning over me.
Her fragrance is a pleasure: both fresh and subtle. A discreet but penetrating perfume. To the point where I forget the smell of urine in which I have been submerged for so long.
“If… If you… If you want” I manage to blurt out with a meek voice.
She was careful to keep her face about 10 centimeters from mine. I must pull strongly on my bonds to reach her lips and reluctantly press mine against them.
She bursts out laughing. “That is what you call a kiss?... You could at least pretend if you want to convince me.”
My cheeks turn crimson. This woman takes pleasure in humiliating me. I give a superhuman effort and, pulling on my sore muscles with all my might, put my lips against hers to plant on them a more pressing kiss.
“That’s better” she says, serious once again. “My turn.”
She takes a few steps back and hits a button located near the door. I take advantage of this opportunity to look around the room in which I am being held prisoner. It is entirely tiled in white and, were it not for that sturdy wooden table on which I am being quartered, it looks like an infirmary. Long white sinks are fixed on the wall to the right and a phenomenal quantity of furniture and white shelves are all over the place.
A new set of footsteps comes from the corridor, approaching rapidly.
“Those pants must be unpleasant. What a terrible smell” she says walking back towards me. “It would best to take them off, don’t you think?”
“But… You said that you were going to untie me…”
“You have a short memory, I made a deal with you and you agreed” she says, cutting me off harshly. “It’s give-and-take. The ball is in your court.”
She has lit a cigarette which she now smokes with a long and thin cigarette holder, the kind people used a century ago.
“Madame called me?”
Much to my surprise, it is a petite brunette roughly my age that has stopped in the doorway. She is very skinny and her white apron enhances her very narrow waist. She seems around 20 at the most and wears a maid outfit which makes her look like she just stepped out from a Luis Buñuel movie.
“Yes Lisette, remove those pants from this young girl will you? She stinks.”
“Very well Madame.”
I turn red again. Not only am I at the mercy of this crazy woman but then, she asks this stranger to undress me.
Visibly accustomed to following orders, the little maid hurries towards a drawer from which she produces a pair of scissors and with which she starts cutting off my pants. What a disappointment…
While the other one busies herself with those scissors, the blond asks me again with the same crooked smile.
“I am listening Sandrine.” The smoke from her cigarette makes my eyes itch.
“If you untie me and let me go, I promise you not to tell anyone about this.”
New burst of laughter. “Don’t worry, my pretty one, I will let you go… When I feel like it…” She turns silent for a moment, dreamingly thinking before adding icily: “For now, I am waiting for your end of the deal.”
Playing cat and mouse with me seems to please her a lot. My problem is that I really don’t know what kind of deal I can propose her.
“Come on Sandrine, are you short of ideas? You could give me another kiss, with your tongue this time…” Before I can think or protest, she grabs my face with both hands and kisses me for a while. Her tongue circles my mouth at length, bonds with mine before it fades away, leaving me panting and breathless. Curiously, this does not disgust me.
Meanwhile, the little maid is done cutting the pants off of me.
“Will Madame still need me”?
“Yes Lisette, but it will mostly be our young friend who will need your services. Stay with us a moment.” She hands over her cigarette, from which ash is close to falling, to the young girl who precipitately offers her hand as an ashtray.
“Very well Madame,” she answers, her head bowed.
“Give her a drink, she has been here almost 12 hours now and she must be thirsty. Bring me back my riding crop while you’re at it.”
“A riding crop!!! This is getting better and better all the time!!! You are stone crazy,” I yell out of despair.
A pair of slaps makes my head spin. “That, girl, is a language you will never use again with me.” Her eyes are throwing flames. “You hear me? Never again.”
I look away and shake my head yes, sniffling.
“I think you need to learn your lesson… Lisette, the t-shirt and the bra.”
“Very well Madame.”
While she busies herself with dexterity and cuts to shreds the few pieces of clothing I have left to keep my modesty, I notice how much the little brunette looks like Inès, the maid in the movie ‘The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.’
Suddenly, a burning pain, on the left thigh, makes me thrash in my bonds screaming.
“The straps,” adds the lady, raising her riding crop again.
The second blow cuts into my right thigh. I scream even louder.
“To you, I am ‘Ma-da-me,’” she says, pausing between each syllable to hit me again on each thigh and on the stomach. “You understand?”
“Yes Ma… Madame. I… I under… I understand. Stop it. I’m begging you.”
My voice is almost inaudible as I stammer between sobs.
“That’s better. Now, not a word unless I invite you to talk. Or else…”
And she swings the riding crop in the air, making it whistle by my ears.
I am now crucified on the table. Straps hold my thighs, my waist, my arms and my forearms.
The woman moves closer to my naked form and runs her hands on my body. Using the tip of her perfectly manicured nails, she traces the welts she just gave me. I groan as quietly as I possibly can. Very slowly, she caresses my belly, goes around my belly button and brings her hand up, very flatly, all the way to my breasts. She does so softly and her caresses make me feel better.
“I can give you pleasure… Or pain.” She grabs the nipple of my left breast between her thumb and forefinger and twists it savagely. Using her other hand, she moves her fingertips only centimeters away from my sensitive flesh. I feel sick to my stomach. “Pleasure…” She slides her hand along my belly and softly brushes my inner thighs. “Or pain…” A flick from her nails hits my other nipple.
“Your body totally belongs to me, as does everything else here. Isn’t that so, Lisette?”
“Yes Mistress,” amswers the maid, her eyes downcast. She is kneeling in a curious position at the foot of the table: Her arms are crossed behind her back and she permanently keeps her eyes on the floor, a few centimeters in front of her opened knees. The blond goes around me and, from her position above me, looks at me right in the eyes while presenting her a hand on which the little maid plants a long kiss.
“What do you choose, Sandrine? The pleasure or the pain?”
“The pleasure!!!” I say without thinking.
A sudden slash from the riding crop across my belly draws a scream from me.
“The pleasure, WHAT?”
“MADAME!!! The pleasure Madame!” I say quickly.
“Just as I thought, little pervert! Well, the lesson is over” she says, offering me her lips. I kiss her with a subdued eagerness, determined to do my best to not upset her. Her hands resume her exploration of my breasts. I groan endless through her mouth.
It’s an incredibly strong sensation, her expert tongue and hands take me to an unknown universe. My thoughts become blurry and I forget everything to concentrate on the pleasure progressing insidiously between my legs. She goes down to my inner thighs, comes back to my breasts, expertly alternating between superficial and deep caresses to, finally, bring me to an orgasm of tremendous intensity. An immense frustration takes over me when she abandons me, panting in my bonds. Never have I experienced a pleasure so complete, so devastating.
“You have know that there are other rules. There are many of them and any transgression will be severely punished.
* For starters, you must never look at me in the eye.
* You will always address me with respect.
* You will not talk when I ask you something.
* You will obey all my orders.
* Everything else, Lisette will explain to you. You must obey her as you would me. She has the authority to punish you if it becomes necessary.”
At that moment, my frustration is such that I do not realize all the implications of what she has just told me.
“Lisette!”
“Yes Madame?”
“I am putting her under your care. First, make her take a complete shower.” She insists heavily on the word ‘complete’. “Then you will dress her, outfit #1, and you present her to me in the small living room at 12:30. You will pay the price if the service is not perfect…”
Up next: The surprise
perverpeper@perverpeper.com
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