O had barely recovered from the crushing orgasm when Sir Stephen took the phone and hung up. O vaguely remembered Henri’s voice and Sir Stephen speaking to him. She thought to herself, “What was it he said to Henri? Something about we will see you at three pm. Just what does that mean? Sir Stephen will see him alone or both Sir Stephen and I will see him then. It all seemed so jumbled, like my thoughts when I was about to come. Then Sir Stephen put the phone to my mouth and all I could do was moan and mumble something. If there was any doubt that Henri considers me a whore and slut, I’m sure they were removed when he heard me.” Then O heard Sir Stephen say as he pushed the chair he was sitting in away from the large mahogany desk, “Now O, I want you to get down from the desk. Get on your knees and caress me with your mouth.”
Of course O obeyed. She got down from the desk and got on her knees in front of Sir Stephen’s thighs which were slightly spread. She ran her hands up the woolen trousers he was wearing until she encountered the heavy bulge in his crotch. She ran her hand over it, then her face, then her mouth. As she did so she heard Sir Stephen say, “What do you say now, O?” She replied, “Oh how I love you. I worship and adore you.” She felt the bulge of his member twitch and increase inside the trousers. She reached up and began undoing the buttons. After she had undone three buttons, she reached her hand inside the trousers and silk under drawers and grasped Sir Stephen’s thick member.
Sir Stephen lifted up slightly as he undid his belt. O pulled down on the trousers and underwear so that Sir Stephen’s entire sex and testicles were visible. Then with one hand grasping near the base and the other pulling him towards her, O again said, “I love you. I love you.” Then she placed her mouth on him. O knew exactly what to do; how best to please Sir Stephen with her mouth. She kissed the tip then worked her way down the shaft while slightly pumping it with her hand. She heard a soft moan, no – more like a sigh escape from her Master’s lips. She continued, occasionally drawing back to take a breath and again murmur, “Oh how I love you. How I love belonging to you.”
Then O felt Sir Stephen’s hand on her head. He pushed O down on him so that she almost gagged. O knew that often it was not the caress of her lips along his length that he desired, but rather the back of her throat. O heard him say, “Now suck.” Then she heard another moan from him – louder this time – and felt him begin to discharge. He suddenly and violently pulled O’s head back, so that he spattered some semen on her face. Then pulling her head back down so that she could swallow the remainder, she heard him say, “O, you work wonders with your mouth.”
And then he was spent. He rudely pushed O aside; she collapsed on the floor, naked save for the red fox jacket, hose and gloves. Sir Stephen stood, pulled up his trousers and began buttoning himself up. He looked disdainfully at the young woman with disheveled red hair lying supine at his feet. He said, “Your gloves are soiled. Remove them and give them to Norah. Leave your hose and jacket on; otherwise stay naked. Go to the dining room. I’ll have Norah serve lunch in a bit.” Then with a wave of his hand, O was dismissed, and Sir Stephen went back to the papers on the large mahogany desk.
O got up from the floor. She removed her gloves. They were wet from… From what? Then gloves in hand, O went out the door of the office and down the hallway to the dining room. As she walked, she thought, “He did not even say that he loves me.” And tears began to form in her eyes.
Idetta couldn’t help herself. As she lay there in the recliner that resembled a cross between the type of chair found in a beauty parlor and the table in a gynecologist office, her eyes were drawn to the reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. There she saw the reflection of herself with her legs in the stirrups, so they were spread open. Open for anyone to see should they too look at the reflection. She thought to herself, “Is this what my late husband, Hans, wanted from me? To be naked and open in a room with several other people: the valet Heinrich, the other valet, Wilma, the dominatrix and these two young women – Snejana and Anastasia. To be a sex slave like them? To be viewed as nothing more that a receptacle for men’s pleasures? Is this truly what Hans had in mind for me?”
Occasionally, the image she saw of herself was broken up when Snejana or Anastasia would walk in front of the mirror, but when they moved on, Idetta’s gaze still returned to that of herself. She continued to think, “It must have been what Hans wanted, after all when I was cleaning out his desk after his death, I found that letter and contract from here, Haus der Sklavin, with information about sending me here. At first I couldn’t believe it, but that man, Sir Douglas, who came to visit here from that place in France called Roissy told me that he had met my husband and taken him to Roissy where he was with one of the saves there. And after he took that slave, Hans told Sir Douglas that he wanted me to be like that. And here I am – a slave. Albeit of my own choosing. Oh yes, I tell myself that it is my way to honor my late husband, but is that the only reason? On some level, don’t I relish the life of a sex slave. Having no say in who uses me or how my body is used? Random sex without any guilt? Isn’t that what all women really want?”
Idetta saw Snejana, the round and curvy Polish girl bend over. When she did, the marks on her bare rear were quite visible because she had been order to roll up her dress so that her bottom was exposed. “At least I am not often whipped like some girls. Poor Snejana. She seems so suited to the whip. And the marks from it are always so visible on her pale skin. I wonder if she finds any enjoyment in it?”
Then Idetta’s reverie was interrupted by the buzzing of the cell phone that Wilma, the dominatrix, always carried in the pocket of her black leather trousers. She heard Wilma say into the phone, “Yes Ma’am. Yes, of course, We will stop for now. We can finish the preparation tomorrow after the others are brought from the dungeon. Yes, I think that will be enough to ‘entertain’ the entire party.”
Then Wilma hung up and addressed the valets and the young women. “Okay, stop what you are doing. We will finish tomorrow. There is a group of executives coming tomorrow night and all of the bitches must be made ready for them.” She paused a moment, then went on, “Heinrich, you won’t take the old sow back to her room. Instead you take these two whores,” nodding towards Snejana and Anastasia. Then nodding to the other valet, “Wolfie, you take the old sow back to her room and wait there until her new cellmate is brought. You can amuse yourself with the old bitch while you wait.” She said the last sentence with an evil grin.
And Idetta, looking somewhat bewildered, was assisted in getting up from the recliner.
US paratrooper Joseph Beyrle served with the 101st Airborne Division during World War II. Prior to the start of the Normandy invasions, Beyrle jumped twice into occupied France to coordinate, provide arms, and money to several French resistance units. He then jumped into France on D-Day, destroyed a enemy gun emplacement, was captured, escaped, and captured again. He was beaten nearly to death, his uniform and dog tags were taken from him. A German soldier attempted to infiltrate US lines dressed in Beyrle’s uniform and was killed. The US War Department believed Beyrle had been killed in combat and notified his parents. His mother refused to believe her son was dead and continued to ignore the calls from the family to accept his death.
Beyrle was taken into captivity at a German-controlled POW camp. He attempted to escape and was shot and wounded. He survived on minimum food and medical attention. Beyrle would be held in seven different POW camps and escaped again; this time the Gestapo was ready to shoot him, claiming he was a spy. He escaped again and found his way to a Soviet armored brigade which was near the POW camp. Beyrle having knowledge of engines and mechanical background assisted the Soviet tank unit which was equipped with American made M4 Shermans. He served with an armor unit commanded by a Soviet female officer and acted as a scout for the Russians against German positions. He was wounded again when German dive bombers attacked the Russian armor column.
He was taken to a Soviet hospital where he met Soviet Marshall Zhukov who was curious on how this American paratrooper ended up in a Soviet hospital. Zhukov was so impressed with Beryle’s story he provided safe passage back to the US Embassy in Moscow.
Due to the U.S. War Department believing Beyrle had been killed back in June 1944, the U.S. government kept him under guard for several days until his dental records confirmed he was indeed Beyrle. Beyrle served more combat time with the Soviets than the Americans and received both US and Soviet citations.
Beyrle returned home and married his sweetheart by the same priest who two years earlier had held his funeral when his family believed he was dead.
Here is Sgt. Joseph Beyrle’s Prisoner of War picture after he was captured again by the Germans.
Slipping into the dressing room while you’re trying on that new skirt and Daddy plunges his fingers in your pretty little princess parts from behind, choking you with his other hand as he makes you look at yourself in the mirror and tells you what a good little piece of fuck meat you are
