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Chapter 5 : First evening with Madame.
We walk the length of the corridor and reach a part of the house that I do not know. After having me cross a large room that looks more like a community kitchen than anything else, she makes me turn left, down another corridor. She stops and points to a closed door.
“Position #1. Wait me for here.”
And she abandons me like an insignificant object, kneeling in front of the door. Not a sound reaches me save for the departing clicking of her heels on the marble that covers the floor. A little worried, I wonder what she has in store for me; I imagine being a little girl that just got punished by having to stand in the corner. The desire between my thighs remains, obsessive. Shamefully, I recall the troublesome pleasure I felt when I bowed against her feet, smelling their odor, that repulsive emanation that should have disgusted me, sickened me. Yet, against all odds, I am left with the memory of a new and fascinating pleasure. How did such a stench provide me with any kind of sexual excitement?
Ever since my kidnapping, I have been confronted with perversions that I never could have imagined possible. And each time, I have been betrayed by my body and my senses. I have sunk to such a state of depravation that the simple idea of giving all this up makes me shiver. How did I get to this point?
The sound of footsteps breaks my train of thought, producing on my lower back a shudder that goes up the length of my spine. The tips of my breasts start to hurt from it.
“Keep the position. Lisette will come and get you.” And she keeps on walking, leaving me alone and confused. Suddenly, thoughts of my mother take over my mind. The events happened with such intensity that, not one moment, did I think about my parents. They must be worried sick. The police might even be looking for me…
“Christelle! Please…”
The redhead turns on her heels and walks back towards me.
“M… my… my parents. They must be concerned.”
Taking her time, she draws closer and squats down next to me. Her breath caresses my neck and her perfume teases my nostrils, raising my desire. Using the tip of her left nail, she lifts my chin, forcing me to turn my head towards her.
“Don’t worry about them. You will understand in due time.”
Her lips are centimeters away from mine. Her piercing eyes seem to read my emotions like an open book.
“B… but… the police?”
“The police?” she asks punctuating her words with a mocking laugh. “Why do you want the police to be interested in a little pervert, nymphomaniac on top of that, like you?”
I turn pale. She grabs my left nipple and makes it roll between her thumb and forefinger. I startle. Slowly, sadistically, her fingers tighten like a vise on my tender flesh.
“Because everyone here knows that you’re nothing but a little nymphomaniac pervert, isn’t that so Sandrine?”
I lower my eyes. The pressure of her fingers rises, complemented by a slow and painful twisting.
“I asked you a question.”
A whimper from the pain rises from my throat. “Yes.” The word, harshly spoken, barely escapes my lips.
“Yes who?” she whispers sadistically in my ear while twisting again.
“Yes Christelle!” I answer suppressing a scream from the pain.
“Good. Now I am going to repeat this for the last time: If you talk to me again without being asked first, It will be my pleasure to belt your cute little breasts with great care.
With that, she turns her back to me and leaves me there, panting, short of breath, crumpled against the door.
“Sandrine”
The sweet voice of Lisette. She is standing behind me and reaches down to grab my leash. “Let’s go, gotta get ready.”
The door in front of which I was kneeling opens up and a superb bathroom appears. Entirely made of marble, its reasonable dimensions are in stark contrast with the excesses from the different rooms I have visited before. Here, the classic layout is the opposite of the luxurious opulence to which I have been exposed to up to this point. At the far end of the room, a large shower fills the entire width of the wall, sheltered by a glass that prevents the water from splashing everywhere. On the right, a double vanity entirely made of marble is up against a large mirror that reflects a large part of the room. On the other side, facing it, a makeup table extends almost the whole length of the wall, enhanced also by a mirror of the same dimension as the one opposing it. Finally, a chair in all points identical to the ones one can see in a beauty salon sits royally in front of the table.
The day begins to fade. She switches on the light and, here and there, spotlights lit up, filling the room with light and making the temperature rise by a few degrees.
“Get undressed quick, we have but an hour to get ready.”
Quickly, she takes off her clothes. I do the same, watching her. Our eyes meet in the mirror.
“What do you think of me?” she asks while removing her socks.
“V… very pretty.” I answer, blushing. “I… I wanted to apologize for earlier.”
“What for?”
“Well… A while back… You know, at the table…”
“Ah. When I drank you piss?”
I find her language shocking.
“Yes…”
She picks up our clothes and puts them in a bin obviously there for the dirty laundry.
“You know, you don’t have to apologize for that. I loved it.”
“B… but…”
“Madame loves to do it to me. When she agrees to let me sleep with her, the next morning I have to drink her piss when she wakes up.”
Frightened by her comments, I shyly join her in the shower. Without her heels, this girl is tiny. I am almost a head taller than she is. Thin to the extreme, her small breasts look like they belong to a teenager. Curiously, her nipples, disproportionally large in comparison, look like those of an adult. I had not noticed, when she showed me her markings, that each of them was adorned with a small ring going through the middle of them. Her flat and toned belly borders an amazingly narrow waistline. Between her rather well proportioned thighs, a third ring sticks out from between the lips of her bare sex. I had read or heard about eccentrics getting a “piercing” on their sex or their breasts but I hadn’t seen one with my own eyes before.
Her childlike body and the ease with which she spews out these vulgar words make her look like a retarded adolescent.
“You know, it’s not the worst,” she adds diving under the shower head. “With Christelle, it’s not only her piss that I have to deal with…”
“What do you mean?” I can’t believe what she has just told me. Her tone of voice is as casual as if she was talking about the sun or the rain.
I watch her lather up her youthful body. Her soapy hands scrub vigorously the purple marks of her previous punishments from which she doesn’t seem to feel pain anymore.
“Well, with her it’s also the other thing I have to swallow. At first, I had a tough getting used to it. But now, it’s ok. I almost get off when it happens.”
Stunned, I look at her without moving. She rubs her entire body, sparing only her lower abdomen.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you? You look like a statue. Hurry up if you don’t want to be punished for being late.” The water has a wonderfully relaxing effect; I could stay under it for hours. Intrigued that she has avoided soaping up between her legs, I ask her if it still burns, pointing to her tumescent sex.
“No, not anymore, but boy does it itch. Madame wants you to clean me. Look, I must be really chafed.”
Drawn by curiosity, I kneel at her feet. The water cascades between her breasts, flows down on her belly and falls off, forming a little sliver between her legs. Using both her hands, she spreads and exposes her sex in an obscene fashion. Her pubic area is as red as if it had been sunburned. Her intimate parts have the color of a piece of raw meat on the butcher’s block. Numerous little pink deposits, probably leftovers from the hot sauce, are spread out all over between the top of her pubic area and her anus. An odor both fishy and spicy hits my nostrils. Her sex has marinated in that mixture during the entire meal. I cannot imagine how much the chafing torments her.
“It looks as if you peeled.”
“Yes, it always does that. I was terribly afraid that she was going to apply another coating after the meal. Ok, go ahead and lather me up, I can’t stand it anymore.”
I let a drop of gel douche land on her pubic area and after putting some on my index finger, I make it slide carefully through the opening of her sex. A moan makes me withdraw it quickly.
“No, keep going, it feels good.”
She arches her back and pushes her pelvis towards me in an inviting gesture that leaves no doubt. Delicately, I resume my adventure inside her devastated nether regions.
“Yessss, keep going.”
This time, her tone of voice does not fool me. The pain that I am inflicting on her by touching her swollen flesh is giving her pleasure. Using the flat part of my hand, I cover her intimate parts with soap and rub her for a long time, back and forth, teasing along the way her turgescent clitoris that sticks out like a small member in erection. My excitement goes up as hers does and her earlier moans quickly turn into whimpers of pleasure.
“Inside too.”
Her voice is just a whisper now. Rinsed away by the water that trickles on her body, the soap flows down along her thighs, tinted with pink. The idea that it could be blood pops into my head for an instant but I give it no heed. Delicately, I press my index against the entrance of her vagina.
“Yessss, like that.”
Her whimpers turn into groans. I make my finger penetrate her until I reach the knuckle before pulling it out then I push it back in several times. Some times, I stop with my finger deep inside her offered sex, taking delight in the spasms of pleasure this causes her. Her muscles, amazingly toned, tighten around my finger with force, as if they never wanted it to get out. A reddish juice flows down my wrist. Her body is taut like the string of a bow.
“Stop, let it go.”
Her command surprises me as much as it petrifies me.
“If I cum, Madame will skin me alive. The other side now.”
She turns around suddenly and presents me two small cheeks, perfectly round and proportioned, without an ounce of fat, separated by a deep cleft that reveals in an obscene way her most secret place. There too, numerous purple lines are crisscrossing, covering entirely both hemispheres. Using her two hands, she pulls on her buttocks, completely exposing her anal area to me. The similarity with the front is surprising. Her ass cleft is nothing but redness and blisters, as if a sudden onset of the hives had taken place. Remains from the hot sauce are now black and look like some little disgusting leftovers all around her sphincter. The spray from the shower drowns the crack of her ass, taking with it a lot of what sticks out there.
“Let’s go Sandrine, do it!”
Her authoritive tone overrides the last of my scruples. My finger brushes for a moment against the heated mucus then, encouraged by her lack of reaction, I become bolder and, using a circular motion, I soap up the area around her anus. Her hands spread open her butt cheeks as if she wanted to tear them out. Her rectum flutters like the mouth of a fish in search of oxygen, opening and closing in convulsions. It’s without any difficulties that my finger makes its way deep inside her gut.
“Mmmmm… Does that feel good.”
One last surge of modesty torments me. I am kneeling behind a young woman that I didn’t know a week ago. She is bent over in front of me and is spreading open her cheeks with both hands to give way to my forefinger which I forcefully inserted in her anus past my first and second phalanx. A veil of shame makes my face hot. Paradoxically, at the same time, my desire has never been this strong. Perversely, I raise the pressure on my finger. My second phalanx crosses the elastic barrier, rewarded by a new groan of pleasure.
“Turn your finger around to make go deeper,” she recommends.
I must be completely crazy. Unable to control my excitement, I shove my index all the way in with one quick motion.
“Yessss… turn it more.”
In all this frenzy, I make my finger turn in every direction.
“Stop, that’s enough. Take it out now.”
She must have some undesirable host deep within her bowels because, when I take it out, the tip of my index shows, in addition to the corrosive mixture, a few dark maroon specks of suspicious origin, stuck under my nail, which I do not doubt to be her excrements. On the verge of disgust, I hurriedly rinse it out under the water spray.
“I’m still itching,” she says while rinsing out. “Too bad we don’t have more time.” She gets out of the shower to look at herself in the mirror. “It’s not surprising that I’m all red.”
I wash up thoroughly, surprised that she doesn’t follow suit. She took out my leash before getting in the shower but the collar bothers me enormously. Dry, I managed to forget it but now, weighted down by its wet condition, every move I make reminds me of its presence.
“Hurry up, we only have half an hour left and I still have to cut your hair.” Stunned, I stay immobilized under the shower.
Sitting in front the vanity, she studies me through the mirror while putting on a new pair of stockings. “You look cute with your ponytails. Too bad Madame doesn’t want them. Me, I like them a lot.”
Dripping water, I get out of the cabin.
“No time to dry you up. Sit over there.”
She points to the seat she just vacated. Her heels slim down her figure, making her seem almost underweight. I take my place in front of the large mirror and get the feeling I just stepped into a very special kind of hair salon. Her reflection in the mirror sends back the image of a life-size obscene doll. She has put her headdress and garter belt back on which, along with her stockings and her stilettos, let a disturbing perfume of forbidden nature escape. The swaying the seat makes as it comes down makes me wince. It has an electric jack which allows her to adjust the height exactly as she wants it.
Armed with a pair of long scissors, she begins trimming my hair. Seeing my worried look, she tries to reassure me. “Don’t worry, Madame has very good taste.” Her face shows a deep admiration. “If she prefers you with short hair, it’s because it’ll look great on you.”
More resigned than confident, I witness, powerless, the fall of my locks one after the other. It is true that the opinion of Madame, as the manager of a model agency and owner of a house decorated with exquisite taste, is somewhat reassuring. Nevertheless, I have had long hair ever since my childhood and it’s with a twinge of sadness that I accept to part with it.
Again, the dexterity my companion shows surprises me. Like a professional, she goes about her business with precise and efficient movements. Quickly, the hair dryer and the brushes replace the scissors.
“You worked in a hairdressing salon before?”
“Yes, I did the first two years of a certificate of professional aptitude. One to be a hairdresser and the other to be a beautician, before getting into fashion. I even met Karl Lagerfeld.”
The trace of pride that sharpens her tone of voice reminds me of the speech Madame made on the way she became acquainted with Lisette and the contempt she had shown in rejecting modeling as a career for the girl.
“But apparently, I’m too small.”
Her disappointment breaks my heart. I decide to change the subject. My haircut has a boyish style and the image the mirror shows pleases me.
“I rather like my hair short,” I say.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, wait till you see the makeup.”
Her dazzling smile makes me realize that I nailed it.
The makeup is applied in a few minutes and my dress even faster since Madame wishes to see me appear before her totally naked. Lisette takes out a new set of restraining devices from the closet and it’s with leather bracelets, a collar and a leash as only attire that I accompany her to the pool.
We get there first. The place is bathed in a powerful light that keeps the night at bay well beyond the trees surrounding the perimeter. The brightness, produced by several clusters of spots supported by lampposts, is such that we could believe that we’re still in the daytime.
“You know the position now,” Lisette tells me as she kneels down, her back to the pool. I follow her lead, sitting by her side.
Doctor Lee is the first one to join us. She has traded her medical smock for a small white dress, very short, that enhances her tan. She stops next to me. Two endlessly long legs, perched on top of small stilettos matching her dress, fill my field of vision.
“Congratulations girls, you are early.” She squats down in front of me, thighs parted. I can’t help but notice that she is not wearing any panties. Using the tip of her index finger, she raises my chin. “Mmmm I could take a bite out of you Sandrine.” And without any further ado, she puts her lips to mine in a deep and long kiss.
My body reacts instantly to this ministration. The tips of my breasts grow and a wetness, now familiar, registers between my thighs.
“Lisette, show us position #2 please.” Her sweet voice makes me flutter.
“Very well Doctor.” My friend leans backwards, puts her hands on her back and, knees parted to their limit, pushes her stomach forward. The arc that her back is forming presents her small chest as an offering and her knees are at an angle close to a full split.
“Perfect. Now it’s your turn, Sandrine.”
The position is taxing. Luckily, the roughly ten years of dance lessons I took when I was a child have left me with some suppleness that can easily match what the young girl can do. The indecency of the position adds to my excitement.
“Good! Congratulations for the suppleness!” she says, moving her immaculate stiletto up to about ten centimeters from my crotch. She dominates me from her height and, hands on her hips, says this short sentence that I find simple in nature: “Move towards me.” Using my hands for support, I make my knees slides towards her.
“Again.” The order is more brunt, the soft voice from earlier on is now replaced by this authority I worship and which confirms me in my new condition as a submissive.
My pubic area is now very close to her foot. My face turns red. Not daring to look up, I feel more than I make out her conquering look staring down at me.
“You’re almost there, my pretty one, just a little bit more effort.” This time, there is no alternative, I know where she wants to go with this. The humiliation imposed by this perverse exhibitionism translates into a wave of pleasure. I cover the few centimeters left and press my sex against her boot. To top off my shame, a low moan of pleasure escapes my lips.
“Very good. Now, you make your stomach swing up and down. A little like those oriental dancers do.” Her sugary tone and the richness of the details that she uses to guide me make me realize that she is addressing me as if I were mentally handicapped or had the mind of a ten year old.
My pulse speeds up. Cheeks on fire, I understand all too well that she wants me to rub my crotch against her shoe. All pride gone, I follow her direction with all the weakness of a nymphomaniac in heat. The ball of pleasure born in my lower abdomen is progressively climbing up my chest. I behave like the worst type of slut. The more I feel debased, the more my pleasure takes over my reason. Even the notion of time has become foreign to me when suddenly, totally indifferent to my state of mind, she pulls her foot back and leaves me in a deep chasm of frustration.
“You like to rub yourself, don’t you, you little pervert. Look in what shape you left my shoe.” The final proof of my depravation glows on her shoe, made shiny by the nocturnal lighting. Frustrated, I struggle with all my might against the terrible urge to caress myself that overwhelms me. Against this imperative and irresistible desire that pushes me to continue caressing myself with her shoe.
At that moment, with a resounding clicking of heels, Christelle makes her entrance. She is still wearing the same leather outfit and gives off such an aura of authority that I feel at fault and straighten up hurriedly on my knees. She moves forward nonchalantly, with the swaying stride of a mannequin, holding in her hand a long riding crop that she slaps against her leg with every step.
Coming near me, she looks me in the eye for a long time before crucifying me: “Two things my pretty one. First, who authorized you to look anywhere but on the ground when you are in the presence of a Mistress?” Right away, I lower my eyes. A wall of silence crashes down on my shoulders. “It’s about time for you to learn the lessons young girl. If you find them hard to understand, it will be my pleasure to help you get there.”
“Forgive me Christelle. I won’t happen…”
I don’t even time to finish my sentence when a slap from the riding crop stings my left hip.
“Secondly, who authorized you to change position?” A blow, on the other hip, follows her question. “Here, you have no rights. Only the one that says that you should do what we demand from you. Do you understand?”
“Yes Mad…”
A third blow stings me before I have time to return to my original position. “YES WHO?”
“CHRISTELLE, yes Christelle. F… for… forgive me.” Terrorized by the pain, I fight with great effort to speak clearly. The words struggle out of my mouth. I hurry in resuming the position when the voice of Madame rings out.
“Well, well. What’s going on here?”
A dangerously beautiful princess just appears at the far end of the terrace, wearing an evening gown coming right out of a fairy tale, with a slit up to her mid-thigh, perched on stilettos of unrivalled and superb design. She is escorted by a black Doberman wearing a muzzle and pulling on his leash with such force that she can hardly hold him back.
“Easy, Blackie, easy.”
The command calms down the beast a little and she majestically moves towards us, making her spiked heels ring on the tiles around the pool.
“Nothing serious, just a little adjustment between Sandrine and me,” answers Christelle.
“And what kind of ‘little adjustment’ requires this kind of screams my dear?”
The tone of voice used by Madame is so cold and severe that it condemns the redhead.
“It’s just that Sandrine has a tough time remembering certain rul…”
“Did she show you any lack of respect?” Madame asks Doctor Lee, cutting in.
“No, it was more about rules, let’s say…” She stops, as if she was looking for her words. “Let’s say the more subtle rules,” answers the doctor.
“Sandrine, explain to me what grievances they have against you,” she tells me, leaning down to look at the marks from the riding crops on my hips.
“It… it’s just that… I swear to you that it will never happen again Mad…”
An unreasonable fear that I offended her, that I failed my contractual duties makes me lose my composure.
“My question is about the past, not the future. I am not asking you what you should do tomorrow my dear, but what you did a while back.” The impression of looking like a retarded girl generates in me a charge of adrenaline that gives me the strength to answer.
“I changed positions without authorization and I looked Christelle in the eyes.” Like a machine gun, I fired the words out as if they were burning in my mouth.
“Is that all? Dear old Christelle. She is always so worried about protocol. Well, let’s forget the whole thing, shall we?”
And she graciously sits on the luxurious eight-place corner sofa, under an awning made of fabric, immediately followed by Doctor Lee and Christelle. It’s obvious she is the one leading the dance. The other two respect and endure her decisions just as much as Lisette and I do. She makes the Doberman lie down at her feet and pets him on the neck, turning distractedly to her maid.
“Lisette! Refreshments please.”
Not knowing what else to do, I stay in the humiliating #2 position.
“Sandrine, come closer so that I can admire your new do.”
Happy to be the center of her attention, I get up hurriedly.
“No, not like that.” I freeze. “Keep the position my darling.”
Right away, I am gripped by a moral dilemma. Should I, as my common sense suggests, move forward arched backwards but using for support my hands and feet, which doesn’t really represent position #2. Or rather, should I listen to this crazy little idea that just popped into my head and commands me to do it crawling on my knees. Why have I chosen the second solution? The nonskid tiling is rough and I know that inevitably my skin will not fare well against it. Is it the urge to prove my allegiance to Madame? Was she aware of what she was demanding of me and will she appreciate my mortification for what it’s worth? In any event, when I reach her feet, I have shredded knees and I am dripping sweat from head to toe.
Blackie welcomes my arrival with a coarse bark. He points his shiny nose covered with dribble towards me and moves his mouth closer to my offered body. Surmounting my disgust, I prepare myself to be subjected to this repulsive contact when a sharp order severely given by Madame makes him back off.
“BLACKIE! DOWN.” The big dog returns to his previous spot. “You should get up on the table my dear. That way, we would have some peace and quiet.”
The acrobatic performance I give while climbing the low table captivates her. The table top is at least a meter and a half wide and four to five meters long. I take my place in its center, exposing my nudity like a statue that has the only purpose of being part of the decor.
In the meantime, Lisette is serving the refreshments with that refinement that defines her in that role and contrasts so strangely with the vulgar words she sometimes uses to express herself.
The three women are comfortably settled in. Christelle and Lee took their drink while Madame merely amused herself by pushing hers between my thighs, real close to my pubic area. Even with my eyes looking down, I sense her gaze locked on me. Her eyes feeding on my body are bothering me more than I had imagined. The temperature is still mild, in spite of the late hour and I am profusely sweating again. Even as the pain builds up in my knees, I try to appear unaffected, admiring the long nails of her hand, which remind me of claws, and her finely chiseled wrist around which she is wearing a gold bracelet certainly worth a lot more than what I can imagine in my wildest dreams.
Her glass is filled with ice cubes and tiny droplets of condensation are showing all around it. Her fingers are still holding it when she cries out:
“My poor child, you’re bleeding!” Her tone of voice shows indignation that I hesitate to qualify as faked. Using a fingertip, she removes delicately a bit of blood from my left knee and puts it in her mouth. “Luckily, we have a doctor on board.” This time, no doubt about it, her words have no other meaning but to mock me.
Probably not wanting to miss a moment of the performance about to take place, Lee has moved closer. “Oh but I didn’t bring with me the tools that such a delicate procedure would require. And what if we called the firemen?” They burst out laughing.
“Good idea, that way we could kill two birds with one stone. They could put out the flames that we haven’t succeeded in controlling.” While saying that, Madame moves her glass and makes it slide very slowly in the direction of my boiling sex. For what seems like an eternity, I see it get closer and closer until it comes into contact with my pubic area.
“Spread them better than that Sandrine, otherwise how do you expect us to operate if you don’t help a little.” New roars of laughter, all around this time.
“Wait, I’ll help you,” says the Doctor with a playful voice, sneaking her hands between my thighs to spread out my intimate lips.
With a small rotating motion, Madame pushes the glass against the interior of my sex, carefully maintaining the contact between the cold surface and my flesh.
Overtaken by these events, I start to whimper. My heart beats at the pulse of the pleasure growing in my belly.
“Fire! Call the firemen…” Christelle starts signing, generating a new wave of laughter all around.
Lee has pressed her glass against my chest and makes it go from my right breast to my let breast.
“I will only stop when those two funny tiny tits no longer taunt me.”
I throw all my efforts in a fight to remain in the required position. The more the icy contact spreads over my sexual organs, the more sweat is dripping down my forehead, revealing the tremendous pleasure running through my veins. The beating of my heart increases to match my breathing. I close my eyes to better concentrate on the orgasm I feel burgeoning in my stomach.
The perfume of Madame makes me open them again. Her mouth is moving closer to mine. I prepared so much for this magical moment that I close my eyes again while opening my mouth. At the last moment, she turns to lick my temple. I must wait mouth open, looking as silly as a goldfish waiting for its food from inside its bowl, frustrated from not receiving that kiss she is refusing me.
“Don’t worry my darling, the doctor will take care of you,” she whispers in my ear before finally and unequivocally putting her lips on mine. My heart races. The freshness of her mouth, her perfume, the softness she uses to take hold of me make my head spin. As in a dream, I close my eyes and feel her delicately peck at my lips with an infinite tenderness which fulfills me beyond anything I could have imagined. Her lips land hermetically on mine in a long caress that brings my sensual pleasure to new heights. Her tongue takes possession of mine and leads it in a devilish dance that empties my mind. Forgotten, the pain on my knees, my uncomfortable position, the humiliation brought on by the presence of the three women both spectators and partners in crime of my degradation. Nothing else matters except for that mouth and that wonderful tongue that are inevitably taking me to ecstasy. When her hand slides up the length of my thigh, I can’t stop myself from spreading wide so as to offer her those virgin territories I have guarded for so long. In my mind, there is no objection to the idea that she and she alone will allow me to reach this bestial pleasure I’ve suppressed deep within my libido all this time.
The feeling, so delicious, of her hand between my thighs generates such a powerful contraction in my stomach that it knocks the wind right out of me. My nipples are so sensitive, they’re hurting me. When her finger circles the center of my most intimate part expertly, an uncontrollable shaking runs through my arms. I am so wet that I have the feeling she is sliding that finger inside my flesh as easily as if it had been covered with butter.
Unable to hold back, I let out a moan of joy that she stifles with her lips. Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through my clitoris. She has just pinched it with her nails. The shaking in my arms now runs through my entire body. She grabs my left tit. My breathing becomes faster. Everything around me starts spinning. Her fingers roughly tighten their grip, twisting the pointed extremity of my breast, sending electric currents across my chest. The groan of pleasure filling my chest locks my mouth to hers. The pain creates a devastating orgasm, a pleasure of unequal violence that explodes inside my entire being, sparing no part, turning all my beliefs on their head. The feeling of her torturing fingers and of her cuddling mouth on me makes me forget all other sensations, leaving me unaware of the powerful cramp which, in a flash, bites the muscle of my right calf. My scream becomes a roar. It escapes unconsciously. Everything goes black.
A cold sensation on my right knee makes me come back to reality. Assaulted by a bright light, I blink my eyes several times before keeping them opened. I am lying down on the sofa. Doctor Lee, kneeling at my feet, is pressing down on a compress soaking with an icy product that brings relief to my sore knee. I raise my eyes, Madame caresses my cheeks and a soft breeze generated by the air that she blows on my forehead cools me down wonderfully. To add to my bliss, my head is resting on her thighs and her large blue eyes are keenly looking at me with benevolence.
“How are you feeling my darling?”
Dumbfounded by so much concern, I collect my wits about before answering her.
“I am fine, thank you Madame.”
She leans down on my face and places a kiss on my forehead.
“Get some rest, you had enough emotions for now.”
Her hand wanders to my chest and absent-mindedly caresses my small breasts, making my nipples stand out in no time.
“What good health! I’ve never seen anything like it.” With a radiant smile, I shiver from the contact from Doctor Lee while she gives me medical care. “Tonight, my pretty one, you sleep in my bed.”
These words make me feel better than anything the nice doctor does for me. “However, there is something that bothers me… A while back, Lisette and you took a shower, didn’t you?”
“Yes Madame.”
“Then she cut your hair the way I asked her. Am I wrong?”
“No Madame.”
“Lisette, come closer please, I have a few questions for you.”
The young girl comes and kneels near us.
“Tell me girl, what time was it when you reached the pool?”
“A quarter to ten, Madame.”
“That means a fifteen minute gap, doesn’t it?”
“Yes Madame.”
“How many minutes do you think you needed to refresh the pubic area of Sandrine?”
Right away, I know where she’s going. Lisette takes longer to get it.
“I don’t know Madame. A few minutes I think.”
“Good. Move closer a little bit,” she says grabbing her by the hair and forcing her to lean her face above my Mount of Venus. “What do you notice?”
Instantaneously the face of the little maid breaks down. “Her pubic hairs have started growing again Madame.” By her tone of voice, it’s clear that she has just realized. “I… I should have shaved her,” she says lowering her head.
“It’s unacceptable, girl.” Madame brings her glass to her lips and drinks a few sips from it, making the suspense last. “You too will spend the night with me… But not in my bed.” Lisette turns white.
“As you wish, Madame.”
“Christelle!”
“Yes Madame.”
“Bring her to my room and prepare her please. Position #10, eyes blindfolded. You can play with her a little while you’re waiting for me. But be careful, no marks.”
“Very well Madame.”
Lisette lost her composure when she heard the orders. With a heavy heart, I see jogging pitifully behind Christelle who doesn’t hide her satisfaction.
Next: Lisette’s torment.
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