#claudia
Verona sat on the fur covered ottoman for what seemed like hours – there was no clock in the room- but was, in fact, only twenty minutes. During this time, her mind raced from thought to thought. “What will happen next? Will my experience here lead to a great segment on my show? Will I be rewarded with a raise?” Then as she thought more about her situation, “Just what was I thinking when I agreed to This? What will be done to me?”
Suddenly, Verona’s thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of a man. He looked at her and said, “Do not move.” Verona was struck by the tone of his voice, so she stayed perfectly still, “Like an insect pinned to a board in a child’s collection,” she thought. But, although Verona did not move, her eyes took in the visage of the man. He was wearing some sort of mask that covered his entire face, except for his eyes and mouth
He was wearing what looked like a white silk shirt with bellowed sleeves. His hands were coveted by what looked like black kid driving gloves. But it was his pants that Verona noticed most. Not really pants, per se, but rather something more resembling chaps, like the American cowboys wear. No matter what they might be called, this attire left the man’s sex completely exposed. Although it was still in its flaccid state, Verona noticed its size.
The man reached to Verona and actresses her face with a gloved hand, then trailed it down to her breast where he ran his fingers over her nipples. Seeing them immediately stiffen, the man laughed and said, “Good. You will be presented shortly.” Then he turned and left the room. Now a ripple of fear ran through Verona. But her nipples remained erect, and she knew she was aroused at the thought of what was to come.
Shortly after the man left, the two women who had earlier bathed and made-up Verona reappeared. This time, the taller one was carrying a woven basket and the shorter one a swath of cloth and some wooden mules. The taller girl lay the basket down and Verona saw that it contained leather bracelets and collars. After taking a tape and measuring Verona’s wrist, ankles and neck, the girl chose a tight-fitting leather collar and bracelets for Verona’s wrists and ankles. Both the bracelets and collar were designed with a metal tongue that fit into the female slot on the other end and snapped into place. There were also O-rings set in the leather so that they might be secured if need be.
Once the collar and bracelets were placed on Verona, the taller girl, whose name Verona would later learn was Collette, told her, “Please stand up and step into the mules.” As Verona did so, the shorter girl placed the swath of cloth to the collar on Verona’s neck. It turned out to be some sort of cape that went to her below her knees but had no closing snaps or buttons except at the very top. Then, Collette took Verona’s hands and using the rings set in the bracelets, secured them behind Verona’s back.
Then she said, “You must also wear a blindfold.” Once Verona was blindfolded, she heard the snap of a leash being attached to the ring in her collar and Collette say, “I will lead you. Be careful walking. Don’t stumble.”
Verona stepped under the shower that was already running and was greeted by more cold water. Again, she let out a gasp. Jeanne, also under the cold water grinned and said, “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it after a while.” Saying this, Jeanne lifted her breasts so that the cold water splashed on them, causing her prominent nipples to stiffen even more. Verona considered the naked young woman, smiling and laughing and twirling under the water as her curly hair matted on her face. She thought to herself, “Why, she seems so happy even though I can tell from the stripes on her thighs and buttocks that she has been beaten recently. And she seemed so proud that her sex had been pierced so she could wear her lover’s medallion there. How strange is that?”
Verona’s thoughts were interrupted by Colette who said, “Finish up I hear Pierre calling to take you to your room. Claudia and I will wait here with Jeanne for another valet to escort us to our rooms.” Verona stepped out from the cold shower and dried herself with a towel Colette gave her. Just as she finished, the valet called Pierre appeared and said, “Come with me.”
Verona, lost in her thoughts, followed the valet down a long hallway, the wooden clogs she was wearing, softly banging on the stone floors. At one turn in the hall, the valet stopped and turned around, asking, “You don’t remember me, do you, Miss?” Now Verona looked at his face, the face of a middle-aged peasant. She said, “Your face looks familiar. Have we met previously?”
Now Pierre chuckled and said, “You interviewed me when you were here over three years ago. Anne Marie said you were doing some sort of expose about deviant sexual practices for your TV program. You interviewed me, No one and Julienne. Later I watched it on your program, ’Discovery with Verona.’ My face was digitized.”
Now, it all came back to Verona. In late 2018 she had indeed done a program in which she had interviewed some of the personalities at Roissy. The subsequent program had been a rousing success for Arte Television and, no doubt, made a fortune for Roissy. She looked at Pierre and said, “I remember you now.” Then, “We had everyone I interviewed here faces digitized. For privacy issues.”
“Oh,” said Pierre. “I thought it was because I am ugly.”
“Oh no. You are not the least bit ugly,” lied Verona. Pierre was silent, and Verona tried to break the ice. “I recall interviewing a couple of the women, uh, I mean slaves here. One was African, the other a French girl. Are they still here, also?”
“You mean Niobe, one of the ‘free’ prostitutes and Julienne who belongs to one of the Masters, Etienne.”
“Yes, the French girl’s name was Julienne. I remember now. Like Jeanne, she had her labia pierced and even had a brand on her backside. Like Jeanne says her lover is going to do to her.” Pierre responded, “Yes, that was Julienne. And then about a year later, you came back and did another program when Etienne had her cervix pierced.”
“Yes. Now I remember that also. It was awful. How could a man do that to her?”
“She consented. Women in love do strange things.”
“Well, I think anyone who consents to something like that is crazy.”
Pierre looked Verona in the eyes and said, “And why are you here?” Verona responded, “I am doing a program about what it’s like to be a sex slave. I will be here as one for several weeks.”
Pierre shook his head and replied, “Jeanne and Julienne are not the only crazy ones.”
Collete said to Veron and the other girl, Jeanne, “You probably should squat and relieve yourselves of what the Masters deposited in you earlier tonight.” Verona wasn’t sure exactly what she meant but saw Jeanne squat down and relieve herself. As she did so, her image appeared in the mirrors, and in the corner wall, Verona saw an infinity of Jeanne’s privates and the liquid escaping from it. She also saw the large ring and medallion that pierce Jeanne’s sex. Startled, Verona asked, “What in the world?”
Finished emptying her bladder, Jeanne stood, smiled and said, “My Lover – well, actually, his uncle- wanted my labia pierced with a large ring so that I might wear a medallion with the family crest hanging from it.” Then Jeanne spread her legs slightly and Verona saw that the medallion hung a third of the way down her thigh. She also noticed that there were angry red stripes on both of Jeanne’s inner things where she had recently been caned.
Verona’s eyes widened and she said, “But, it’s so large and looks so heavy. You must constantly be aware of it.”
“Oh, I am,” responded Jeanne. “It serves to remind me that I am the property of my Lover and Master. Although it is the crest of his family on the medallion, he was kind enough to put a more personal notation just above my sex. Look. See.” Saying this, Jeanne pointed to a tattoo in neat script above the slit of her sex that read, ‘property of Louis.’ She continued, “And he has told me that soon he will have his initials branded into my buttocks. Then whether I am seen from the front or rear, everyone will know who I belong to.”
Verona was dumbfounded and looked to Claudia who pointed to her head and rolled her eyes. Then Collette said, “Now, Verona, you should squat and empty yourself.” Verona squatted down and, in the mirrors, saw an infinity of images of herself open. She looked at the other women and said, “I am embarrassed; could you please look away?”
Collette laughed and said, “Get used to it. Pierre or the other valets will certainly watch you squat. There is no privacy at Roissy. Even in the restroom of the public dining area there are no stalls for privacy, just toilets and a bidet in the open. It is a way of the Masters exerting control and showing that women have none. Not even the ones who are ‘free’ and just brought for lunch.”
Hearing that Verona emptied her bladder letting the urine wash away the semen that had been deposited in her sex. As she did so, she watched it splash in the mirrors. “Good,” said Verona. “Now for your showers.”
They freed Verona’s hands, which were still tied behind her back, and led her to a room inside. There they told her to get undressed, they were going to bathe her and redo her make-up. Verona proceeded to strip off her dress which was the only clothing she was wearing. Then Verona stepped out of her high heels. Once she hadn’t a stitch of clothing left, one of the girls put her dress and shoes away neatly in a closet. Verona was led to a tub of steaming water. There she was not allowed to bathe herself; rather the two women soaped and sponged her. As they did so, one of them slipped a finger into Verona’s sex. She let out a small gasp and the girl said, “You had best get used to it.” Then they did her hair as at the hairdresser’s, making her sit in one of those large chairs which tilts back. Verona was seated on this chair, naked, and the women kept her from either crossing her legs or bringing them together. And since the wall in front of her was covered from floor to ceiling with a large mirror, which was unbroken by any shelving, she could see herself, thus open, each time her gaze strayed to the mirror. As the women worked on Verona’s brown hair, she thought to herself, “I wonder if it is this way for every woman who comes, or is brought, to Roissy.”
The two women, whom Verona would later learn were called Collette and Claudia, continued to ensure Verona was properly made up and prepared. Her eyelids were pencilled lightly; a smoky grey eye shadow was applied; her lips were coloured a bright red. Verona thought to herself, “This is similar to the way my hair and make-up is done before my show on Arte Television.
But then the tip and halo of her breasts were highlighted with some sort of dark pink liquid. Then the edges of her inner labia were brushed with the same dark pink liquid; her armpits and pubis were generously perfumed, and perfume also applied to the furrow between her thighs, the furrow beneath her breasts, and to the hollows of her hands. After all this, she was led into a room where a three-sided mirror, and another mirror behind, which enabled her to examine herself closely.
Verona was told to sit down on an ottoman, which was set between the mirrors, and told to wait. The ottoman was covered with black fur, which pricked her slightly; the rug was black, the walls red. She was completely naked except for high heeled mules.
“Well, here I am,” thought Verona. “What next?”
Pierre stood to the side and let the girls have coffee and gossip. He was the only valet around and did not always enforce the rule of silence, especially if no Master was around. He said, “Five minutes to ten. Better finish up your coffee, then I will escort you to the refectory for your baths.” Therese took sip of her coffee and said, “I swear I do not know why we spend so much time with bathing, hair, make-up, dresses and the like. Most of the men who come here don’t give a fig about it. All they care about is how far you can spread your legs, how tight you are, and whether or not you can give a good blow job. I could be bald, no make-up, and as sweaty as a field hand and some guest would still want me. And some, if not most men, like a little female musk smell down there. Am I right or not?”
Jeanne replied, “Oh I like getting all made up and dressed. It makes me feel pretty. And I’m sure Louis likes for me to look good when he comes to see me.”
Therese said, “You mean if he comes to see you. I haven’t seen him around much lately.”
“His uncle Gaspar has been sending him to Spain a lot lately to work on some project down there. I think it’s good that Louis wants to expand his expertise beyond just his paintings.”
Now Collette spoke. “Jeanne, you are such a dullard. I’m sure Louis has another girl there.” She paused, then added, “Although, I‘m not sure you could say he’s two timing you, what with you being his whore and all.”
Jeanne’s eyes began to well up and Marloes said, “Leave Jeanne alone, Collette. You are such a bitch sometimes. We all know that getting all dolled up is really about power. It’s just another way the Masters have of exercising power and control over us. They could just as soon keep us naked, but by making us get all dressed up as if for a party, it is a way of showing that they have the power, and we have none.”
Everyone as silent for a bit, then Marloes broke the silence, “Anyway, you and Claudia have looked like two birds who have swallowed a canary all morning. What’s up?”
Colette grinned and said, “Well, since you asked. Last night before we were chained in our beds, Anne Marie sent for us.”
“Oh! That’s usually not good,” interrupted Therese.
“But last night it was,” said Claudia. “You see a new girl is coming to Roissy. And not just any new girl. It’s one who is famous.”
“Really?” said Therese. “Another model like Alessa or Anna?”
“No. Maybe even more famous. You see it’s Verona F. You know the girl on Arte Television, the host of ‘Discovery with Verona.’ Anne Marie told Collette and me that we will be in charge of preparing her for her presentation. I can hardly wait!”
Now Marloes spoke. “Verona F., the television personality. Why on earth would she come to Roissy?
Claudia and Collette led Verona away from the library and down a hallway. There at the turn of the hallway stood two valets and another woman – totally naked as was Verona save for a leather collar around her neck and leather bracelets on her wrists and ankles. The valet stopped the women escorting Verona and said, “I take it this is the new woman, the famous television personality who is doing an expose on Roissy?”
Colette answered, “As usual James, you have got your information all mixed up. Yes, this is Verona, the television personality, but she isn’t doing an expose, as you call it. Instead, she is doing research as to what being a Roissy slave is like. She has already been presented to the Masters, and now she will learn that we slaves have to put up with ignorant nincompoops like you.”
James raised his riding crop as if to hit Collette with it, saying, “I should whip you for that remark, but you’d probably like it.” Then the other valet, who was older said, “James! Remember what you were doing. Calm down and tell me what you were doing with Jeanne here.” As he said this, he nodded to the naked girl whose name was evidently Jeanne.
James answered sullenly, “I was escorting Jeanne to the bathing area.” The older valet responded, “Yes. That is what you were supposed to be doing. Not gawking at a new slave.” He paused, looking at Verona, then continued, “Even if it is the famous Verona F. hostess of ‘Discovery with Verona,’ one of my fat wife’s favourite TV programs.” He paused, then continued, “In fact, you are dismissed, I will escort all of these ladies to the bathing area.”
Verona watched as the younger valet, skulk off down the hall. As she did so, Collette leaned over and whispered in her ear, “That was James, one of the crueller valets. Be careful around him. And obviously he and Pierre do not like one another.” Hearing that Verona looked at the older valet and thought to herself, “So, this must be Pierre.”
Pierre must have heard Collette whispering because he glared at her and said, “You know the rules. No talking in the hallway. Just because I cut you and your friends some slack in the dining room, doesn’t mean I won’t flog you for breaking the rules at night.” Saying this, he tapped the small whip attached to his belt.
“Yes, Pierre. Sorry. Please forgive me.”
Now Pierre smiled and said, “Okay, good. Just so we understand one another. Now why don’t you and Claudia escort Jeanne and Mademoiselle Verona to the bathing area. I’ll wait here until you are finished.”
“Yes, Pierre,” said Collette as she and Claudia went into an arched doorway, pulling Verona and the other girl behind them.
She did ask Pierre where Anna was as she did not see her after she and Ahmet went into the suite’s other bedroom. Pierre gave a noncommittal shrug and said, “Don’t worry about her.” So, Marloes went about her duties in the library. One of the Masters whose name she hadn’t yet learned was reading the paper and drinking coffee. When Marloes approached to see if his coffee needed refilling, he said, “No. Not yet. But tell me – did that Turk have you whipped last night? If so, you should roll up your dress so that the marks are visible.” When Marloes told him that she had not been whipped, he sighed and said, “What a pity,” and went back to the paper.
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In fact, Marloes did not see Anna that day or the next. On the third day at breakfast she sat at a table with several Roissy veterans: Therese, Claudia, Collette, and Jeanne. Technically, the girls were to remain silent while in the cafeteria, but that was a rule most valets didn’t insist on. They let the girls gossip among themselves, and depending on the valet, sometimes joined in the conversations. Marloes asked Therese if she had seen Anna lately.
“Oh yes. Yesterday in the bathing area. Evidently her customer – that Turk or whatever he was- must have had her flogged. There were bruises all over her rear and upper thighs. She was concerned about them.”
Jeanne, who had only recently been returned to Roissy by her Master and who did not know Anna, interrupted, “So what? We are all flogged from time to time. Bruises are a part of it. The Masters like to see them. It enforces their sense of superiority to us.”
Therese went on to explain, “Yes. But Anna is different. She is a model, you know. At least when she isn’t here. The Society releases her to work in some fashion shows. Anna is evidently quite popular and paid well to model. Neither she nor the Society want it to be known that when she isn’t modeling, she is a Roissy slave. She was probably afraid that the bruises might be visible when she is dressed for the show.”
This time Marloes interrupted saying, “I had no idea! Well, she is certainly pretty enough.”
Therese continued, “Yes, a very pretty girl who loooks good in the clothes she models. She is paid well, and the Society gets most of it as Anna is a bound slave. Her late lover was a Master, and when he was killed, Anne Marie told Anna that her ownership passed to the Society.”
Collette then spoke, giggling, “Yes. Anna makes money for the Society by walking, but the rest of us make money on our backs.”
“Or on our hands and knees,” added Claudia.
In unison Jeanne, Claudi and Therese nodded and said, “Oh yes.” Pierre continued, “Perhaps Anne Marie wants Collette to witness Noelle being punished or more likely Collette will do the actual punishment.” Marloes gave him a blank look and he continued, “When a slave is chosen to punish another slave, both girls are naked. It’s one of Anne Marie’s little quirks. She thinks it gives both the slave being punished and the one wielding the whip a sense of vulnerability. The one with the whip knows she could just as easily be on the receiving end, so it makes her even more ferocious, even savage. A sort of returning to the primeval self or something like that.”
Therese interrupted, “Yes that’s true. It also heightens the sexual tension, especially if the slave being punished is being whipped between her widespread thighs, on her sex.” She looked at Marloes and said, “You know – the ‘special punishment’ at Roissy that Michael and James threaten us with if we disobey.”
Marloes eyes widened, and she said, “You know this how?” Now, little Jeanne spoke. “it’s true. I was at Anne Marie’s home in Samois along with Colette and Therese when a girl named Yvonne was sent there by her lover. It was Anne Marie’s rule that when a new girl arrived, she was to be whipped like that. We drew lots to see who would whip her and Collete ‘won.’ Yvonne was arranged on the dais in what Anne Marie called her music room. I helped tie Yvonne’s legs to posts on either side f the dais so that her legs were raised and spread. Her sex was open for all to see. Her hands bound to the other end of the dais. Then Collette, who was naked – Anne Marie required us to be naked at all times – stood over her. She raised the whip and came down hard on her while Anne Marie played music to drown out her screams. Therese and I sat on a sofa and watched. I felt myself getting wet and aroused watching it. So did Therese. Right?”
Therese looked sheepish but nodded in agreement. She said, “And later Collette said that she almost came herself from hearing poor Yvonne scream and cry.”
Jeanne spoke again, “And most surprising, Yvonne told me that later after the whipping while she was let there on the dais, bound and spread for two hours, while she could feel the welts and bruises forming, she, too, was wet and aroused because she had nearly come from being flogged.”
Marloes looked at Jeanne with a look combining both disbelief and horror and said, “I think you are all crazy.”
And old Pierre nodded in agreement.
Now Emilie looked back on her first night at Roissy and realized she had no idea what she was getting into. She had expected a somewhat romantic tryst or trysts with rich, powerful, and relatively handsome men like Gaspar. Perhaps wine and bedding in a luxurious hotel-like room and gentle, slow love making. But instead, it had been more like a gang rape. Emilie wasn’t sure how many men had taken her as she was blindfolded, but thought it was at least four. She thought, “True I did have at least two great orgasms, but then one of them pushed his member into my rear. Fucked in the ass, like a common whore! I’ll be sore for a week. And then I was tied to a post and flogged. Neither Denis, nor Gaspar ever said anything about that!”
And afterwards, she had been taken to a solitary room where she was chained to some sort of bed. Then Denis had come in and sat on the bed beside her. “I remember Denis sitting down and telling me that he was very proud of me. That’s when I unloaded on him! I said, ‘Denis, you son of a bitch! Just what in the hell have you talked me into? I agreed to come here to have sex with other men so you could watch, but I never, NEVER agreed to what happened to me tonight! No, unchain me and get me the hell out of here!’ But Denis had calmly said, ‘Darling, I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to. I don’t have the keys to the chain, plus I am afraid even if we did try to leave, Gaspar or another of the Masters here would have us stopped. Remember you told him that you would stay for at least a week. I’m sure tonight was the worst of it. Maybe from here on out, you’ll be treated better. Just remember to do what they say and obey the rules.’ And then he leaned over and kissed me on the forehead and said, ‘And you seemed to enjoy the sex. I am sure I saw you have at least two orgasms. And also remember I love you very much.’ Then someone, I’m not sure who, knocked on the door of my little room and said that Denis should leave me alone, so I could get some rest. Then I fell into a deep sleep.
“And this morning, I was awakened and taken down by some guy in a butler’s suit to some sort of breakfast area where there were four naked women sitting at a table drinking coffee and some older guy in a similar suit talking to them. He told me that I was to accompany them to work in the library. That’s when I forgot the rule of silence that one of the Masters had told me about the previous night. I wasn’t supposed to speak unless spoken to. After last night, I certainly didn’t want to break any rules and get whipped again. Anyway, I followed the man - he said he was a valet, and his name was Rupert – as he took two of the naked women to get dressed. He told me their names were Jeanne and Claudia. As they walked, I noticed that the one called Claudia was wearing what looked like a chastity belt and the other one had a heavy looking medallion hanging from a short chain that pierced her labia. Rupert must have noticed the shocked look on my face because he told me that Claudia had been caught masturbating and had been whipped and now had to wear the chastity belt for two weeks as additional punishment. Emilie noticed she also had marks on her rear, no doubt from a more recent flogging. As for the other, shorter girl, he said Jeanne was the property of the Waingro-Valmont family, specifically the younger one called Louis and that she had agreed to having her labia pierced so that she could wear a medallion proclaiming her as their property. Then I watched as they put on dresses similar to the one that I’m wearing.”
As Emilie was mulling her thought, the foursome encountered a tall valet in the hallway outside a closed door. Rupert halted and spoke, “James, I take it you are the valet on duty in the library?” The valet, whose names was evidently James answered, “Yes. Until six pm, then Charles takes over.” As the two valets were talking, Claudia leaned over and whispered to Emilie. “Now be sure not to talk and keep your eyes downcast and follow all the rules. That’s James. He is a stickler for rules, unlike Pierre. And he can be very cruel.”
Suddenly James turned, looked at Claudia, and shouted, “I heard you talking, wretched whore! You know the rules! No talking unless you are called on. Now you’ll be punished!” Saying this, he pulled the riding crop he carried from his belt and grabbed Claudia by the wrist.
Claudia immediately dropped to her knees in front of James and said, “Oh, please don’t whip me. I beg of you. I was flogged by a Master last night and still have the marks to prove it.” Hearing this James pulled up the rear of Claudia’s dress to reveal a fresh set of stripes across her buttocks. He said, “But you broke the rules. You must be whipped again.” With tears already forming in her eyes, Claudia begged again, “Please no! Don’t, I beg of you!” And as she spoke, she began unbuttoning James’ trousers. “Don’t flog me! I’ll make it up to you! Please!” And she reached in and took James’ member, already stiffening, in her hands and brought it towards her mouth. Saying, “I’ll be good. I promise I’ll make you happy. I promise!” And her mouth engulfed him.
Rupert, pushing Jeanne, and Emilie away said, “Just bring her to the library when you are through. I’ll go ahead and take these two there. Then the three soon entered what really did look like a library. There were shelves and shelves of books, tables with newspapers and a fireplace against one wall. Keeping her eyes downcast as she had been told the previous night, Emilie discretely glanced about the room. There were several easy chairs and a couch. An old fat man was sitting in one of the chairs. He looked a little drunk. And two men standing in front of the fire with their backs turned. It was Gaspar and the man who had driven Emilie to Roissy the previous day.
The six slaves from the morning had been given their assignments, and now garbed in their Roissy gowns - gowns that were cut tight in the waist but flared at the hips and slit so that the gown might be rolled up in front or back to reveal a slave’s rear or sex, while the corset -like top was cupped and stopped just below the breasts so that the breasts were pushed forward and visible. Additionally, a type of transparent veil could be used to cover yet reveal the breasts. Now the six were escorted to their assigned duties for the day. Marloes and Therese and Zoe, recently released from the Roissy dungeon and deemed fully trained by her Master Alex followed old Pierre to the restaurant and dining area, while Rupert, another valet, led Jeanne, Emilie, and Claudia, who still was wearing the chastity belt to the waiting area and library.
The restaurant and bar area of Roissy was located in the ‘public’ area of Roissy on the left side of the entrance to the chateau. There anyone – Master or guest – might have a drink or eat a meal. Interestingly enough, the cuisine served at Roissy was excellent: locally grown vegetables. Beef or lamb from local herds, duck or chicken dishes or seafood which was trucked in from Honfleur once a week. All prepared by a world-renowned chef who was not only paid handsomely, but also allowed the slave of his choice as if he, too, were a Master. Of course, the wait staff was composed of the women who were slaves of the Chateau.
As Pierre turned over the three to the Maitre ’d who was standing near the Vietnamese girls Quy and Binh, he said, “Here are the other three assigned to you today. Now, my shift is over and I’m off to home where my fat wife and ugly children await.” The Maitre ‘d, whose name was Phillip, looked over his assigned staff and said, “You all look nice today, a veritable rainbow of beauties waiting to serve. And ‘ladies,’ please remember to keep the veil over your breasts when serving. No nipples dragging in the salad dressing.” Then, “Oh, it’s eleven and here comes our first customers for an early lunch.”
Zoe recalled the first time Axel had brought her to Roissy. Surprisingly, it was not to be trained. Instead, at that time she and Axel had just become loves after being introduced by a mutual friend. Zoe had just completed her schooling and was awed by the several years older Axel. The same mutual friend who had introduced them had told Zoe that Axel came from a very wealthy family. While Zoe’s parents were staunchly bourgeois. Besides being wealthy, Axel was handsome in a chiselled sort of way. Everyone said they made a nice couple. Zoe remembered, “Axel said he wanted to take me to a fancy restaurant where the food was fabulous. Of course, I said yes. We went for lunch. It was a fairly long drive from Paris, but we went through the countryside in his BMW. And then we were here. The first thing I noticed was that the wait staff were all beautiful women in fancy dresses resembling 18th century styles I had seen in school textbooks. The two who waited on our table seemed to fawn over Axel as if they knew him well but were cold and aloof to me. Now I understand why. I was at that time a free woman and they were slaves as I am now.”
Zoe’s reverie was broken by Therese’s voice, “Come on. We need to take their order.” And Zoe followed her to a table where a handsome man and pretty woman, who looked a bit uncomfortable were seated.
After Michael had led Collette away, the remaining four women – Marloes, Jeanne, Therese and Claudia – went back to their coffee. Shortly afterwards, old Pierre said, “Drink up ladies, it’s time for you to earn your keep. And remember to follow the rules, so you’re not flogged today. Understand?” Four voices said simultaneously, “Yes, Daddy Pierre.” Followed by small giggles, as the four truly liked Pierre and enjoyed bantering with him when they could.
Pierre began reading the day’s assignments, “Therese and Marloes. You will join the two Vietnamese girls, Quy and Binh, in the dining room. All four of you are servers today.” Then he turned to Claudia and Jeanne. “You two will be in the waiting area and library.” Then, “Everyone got it?” Again, four voices in unison, “Yes, Daddy Pierre.”
This time even Pierre smiled, dropping his usual dour expression. He said in mocking exasperation, “Like herding cats.” Then from behind came a voice, “Well old fellow, you are supervising the pussy.” Pierre turned quickly and saw Rupert another valet approaching with two more women in tow. Rupert had a good relationship with Pierre, the senior valet at Roissy and often joked with him. Pierre had trained Rupert when he first came to Roissy and like Pierre- and unlike Michael and James - saw no need to be overly cruel to the slaves unless they disobeyed.
The women following Rupert were Zoe, just released from the dungeon and Emilie, who was on her second day – first morning – at Roissy. Pointing to the shorter girl with the honey-colored hair, Rupert said, “This one is Zoe. You may remember her from her previous short stint here a year or so ago. Then her Master had to move to Indonesia to manage the family’s rubber plantation, so he pulled her out. About a month ago, he brought her back to complete her training. Now, her Master decided that her training time in the dungeon was completed, and she should be put in the general population.”
Pierre nodded as Rupert continued, “And this other one is Emilie. I’m not really sure about her story, but Gaspar told me a while ago to bring her to you for assignment.”
Hearing this, Emilie who looked like she might be in shock, started to speak, but decided better and remained silent. She remembered, “Last night, after those men finally finished with me, I was taken to a small bedroom. I guess I was still stunned at having been taken so roughly and then whipped. I was laid on a hard bed and my hands were chained to the headboard. Then Denis came in and sat beside me on the bed…”
Emilie’s thoughts were interrupted by Pierre who said, “They both look a little worse for wear this morning. Are you sure they should be put to work already?”
Rupert chuckled and said, “Pierre, I know you are getting old and have become rather fond of these bitches, but if a Master says they should be put to work, I don’t think we should even consider otherwise.”
Pierre considered for a moment what the younger valet had said, then, “You’re right. Not our decision.” Then looking at the two women, “Okay. Zoe, you go with Therese and Marloes to work in the restaurant area. And you, new girl, go with Claudia and Jeanne to the library.”
Hearing this, Emilie, who still had a bewildered look on her face, said, “Library?”
Hearing this, Jeanne took her by the upper arm and said, “Oh, don’t worry; it’s easy work. Mostly you just tend the fire and hand newspapers or books to the Masters who want to read them. Perhaps fetch drinks.” And Claudia added, “And mainly look available and ready for use.”
Jeanne replied under her breath, “It’s true. My lover returned me to Roissy about two weeks ago after being away for a year. I had forgotten some of the rules. When he left, I made the mistake of looking James in the face and asking him a question. I hadn’t even finished before he yelled, ‘You know the rules! Now you’ll be flogged for breaking them!’ Thinking I could ‘bribe’ my way out of a whipping, I dropped to my knees in front of him, grabbed at his crotch and said, ‘Please don’t flog me! I’ll be good. I’ll be very good!”
Pierre laughed and said, “And did your little bribe work?”
“No! The sorry fellow flogged my ass anyway. And afterwards, he had the nerve to tell me to blow him!”
“That sounds just like him,” said Pierre. “James can be a hard one. But you should have known better than to look him in the face. You should never forget that.”
Now Colette spoke, “Yes. We all know that rule: ‘Keep your face lowered and eyes on the thing that is your Master.’ That’s why you valets keep the flap of your trousers open, so we have to stare at your cocks all the time.”
“And you don’t like that?” asked Pierre.
“Now, I didn’t say that,” said Colette with a slight giggle.
Their banter was interrupted by the approach of young Albert, a valet who had just happened to come upon Roissy while backpacking across Europe. He showed up just as Pierre was in charge of Roissy during the time of the ill-fated trip to Malaga by Anne Marie. He had come to the chateau asking for work, expecting to be put to cleaning the stables, but Pierre, short-handed because several of the regular valets had accompanied Anne Maire and her entourage, had hired him as a valet. Albert rather enjoyed supervising the female slaves (and, truth be told, exposing himself to them) and had stayed on afterwards. Albert came to Pierre and said, “One of the Masters has requested a morning tryst with Colette and wants me to bring her to him.”
Hearing this, Colette got up from the table and said, “I will see you girls later. Duty calls now.”
And Albert led her away.
Collette was troubled. Shortly after Etienne showed up at the table where she was sitting on old fat Cyril’s lap and shown off his latest ‘acquisition,’ Cyril had taken her upstairs to one of the short-term rooms. She had been hoping for a tip even though it was not customary for Masters to tip slaves after an encounter. It was expected for guests, but not for Masters of Roissy. Nevertheless, Collette had spent considerable time complimenting the drunken old fool. “Even if he didn’t tip me, I thought he might at least fondle or tongue me to climax. But ‘No.’ All he wanted was a blow job. And it was truly a job. I don’t think he ever got hard. He just stayed limp in my mouth until he finally squirted a little bit. Then he called for a valet to take me away. No tip and no coming for me.”
Involuntarily, Collette moved her hands but heard the clink of the chain that connected them to the leather collar around her neck which was in turn connected to a ring set in the head of thew bed in the tiny cell-like room that she shared with Claudia, another Roissy slave. “And I can’t even masturbate, chained like this,” she said out loud. Claudia who Collette had thought was sleeping heard this and said from her own bed, “Those are the rules here at Roissy. Every woman must spend the night chained in bed. Personally, I think it’s a silly rule, but Pierre told me once that it is so that we cannot masturbate at night even if we want to. Every aspect of our sexuality must be controlled.”
Collette responded, “It’s a silly rule. We’re usually fucked several times a day, but not allowed to masturbate!”
“It’s about control, dear. As they say, ‘Everything is about sex, but sex. Sex is about control. Now, go to sleep. I’m tired.”
But Collette wasn’t tired. She was frustrated. Rather than trying to go to sleep, she rolled thoughts and memories in her mind. “Alessa was here tonight. Here as a ‘free’ woman with her lover. I remember when she was here ‘just for a visit to see what it’s like’ a couple or three years ago. She was so pretty. She’s still beautiful and must be in her mid to late thirties now. I’ve seen photos of her recently in magazines, but they don’t do her justice. And she and her lover took Marloes up to a room. I bet Marloes got to have several orgasms.”
Collette’s mind drifted to another memory. “Then Etienne came over leading that poor new girl on a leash attached to the ring that pierces her labia. Led like a dog! I wonder what her face looks like. I couldn’t see her face what with that hood he made her wear. I’m sure she was humiliated. Her body was all bruised and filthy from being in the dungeon, I bet. She had a nice breasts and a slender figure though. And he showed Cyril how her cervix is also pierced like Julienne’s. I wonder what it is with Etienne that he likes to have girls whose most intimate parts are pierced. Why would a woman agree to that? I certainly wouldn’t, although I must admit I was a little turned on at the sight.” And then again Collette tried to reach down to her wet sex.
To no avail, though.
Of course, what Emilie did not know, and had no way of knowing, was that Kubel already knew she was there. He had been one of the men who had participated in her initiation to Roissy the previous night. As all the men had been masked, Emilie was unaware of their identities and had only just discovered that the young Spainard who had just finished with Collette was one of them when she recognized his voice.
As Emilie tried to remain inconspicuous, Kubel, Gaspar and Eric retired to an alcove on the other side of the immense room. Mercifully, Emilie noted that Kubel sat with his back to the side of the room where Emilie was “Perhaps, he won’t see me,” she thought, as her attention went back to the center of the room where Claudia was now straightening the trousers of young man who had finished with Collette. Seeing this, Emilie’s thoughts again returned to the young Spainard. “I still cannot believe that pipsqueak was one of the men who used me so brutally last night. Why, he’s shorter than me and I’ll wager he doesn’t weigh sixty kilos. And a Spainard at that. But his cock! Why it’s half again as large as Denis. Maybe bigger even than Thierry! And he rammed it into me at least once. Maybe more. And I’ll bet the little turd was one of the ones who whipped me. And Denis, my supposed lover, my Denis who talked me into coming to this place, just stood by and watched!”
While Emilie was working herself up into a fill snit, a conversation was taking place at the table in the alcove across the library. “Okay then. We seem to have settled on a deal, correct Herr Kubel?” said Gaspar.
“Yes, I believe so. I will let Herr Weber know that you and Eric here wish to invest in his repurposed Yugo factory, an assembly portion of which will be situated in Spain. There he will receive tax incentives. And in return, Herr Weber will support the elder Montoya’s bid for the Spanish presidency. Yes, I am sure Herr Weber will agree to it.”
“Excellent,” said Gaspar. “And on another note, I trust you have been enjoying your time here at Roissy. It seems obvious that young Montoya has been.”
“Yes. Quite so. I wish I did not have to go back to Stuttgart in the morning.”
“Well, I do hope you will avail yourself of mote of the pleasures of the flesh before you depart. Shall I have a valet bring you another girl.”
“No, that is all right. I believe I will just take the one we used last night, the one who seems to be hiding in the nook over there, up to my room if that is okay.”
Gaspar laughed and said, “Of course. She is here only for a week. We want her to have the full Roissy experience. “
Marloes felt as if she had found kindred spirits in her new friends at Roissy. Therese, Jeanne, Colette, Claudia and she had formed a small clique who shared meals and gossip whenever old Pierre or one of the other less discipline minded valets was in charge of them. And it was no real wonder as they shared a great deal in common in their past lives before coming (or being brought) to Roissy. All five had either been fully immersed in the sex trades like Marloes and Therese or its periphery like Claudia who had been a stripper at one of the seedier clubs near Montmartre. They were still relatively young, their looks intact, but fully resigned to their lots in life.
Marloes, of course, had been brought to Roissy by Sutton and Rene who had told her that there she might make a great deal of money, certainly more than she was making flagging down motorists along the highway and offering quick blow jobs for thirty-five Euros. Therese had been working the streets of Nice when she heard about Roissy from a customer. She had ridden the train up to Paris and from there managed to get to the gates of Roissy. She had stayed at Roissy for several months, then left, only to have returned a couple of weeks prior to Marloes’ arrival. Jeanne had initially been brought to Roissy by her lover several years ago. He had taken her away but had recently returned her after deciding the ‘wages’ she might earn as a slave of a member of the Society would be an excellent income supplement. Claudia as mentioned above, was recruited from a strip club in Paris by two members of the Society who were there on a quiet Wednesday night. And there was Colette. How she initially came to Roissy was somewhat of a mystery, but it was common knowledge that once she had been Anne Marie’s ‘girl’ only to be later replaced by little Yvette who had been Anne Marie’s favorite for over two years now.
It was the first day of autumn at Roissy. The asters and few maple trees on the grounds surrounding the Chateau had begun to turn and the morning air had begun to have a chill in it. All five were seated around a table having fruit and bread – the normal breakfast for Roissy slaves. None of the five were on duty until noon and Pierre was the supervising valet, so they had a second cup of coffee and talked. Gossiped really.
Therese said, “You know I was here at Roissy for about eight months the last time. I made enough money to treat myself to a vacation in Crete. I was a blonde then – top and bottom. Those Greek men love blondes; I made enough to turn a profit on my vacation, but Crete was too hot, so I decided to come back. Now I’m saving up to go to Norway, or maybe Sweden.”
Pierre who allowed the women to gossip despite the rule of silence, who had been eavesdropping and secretly enjoyed their stories, interrupted, “I remember you from the previous time you were here. You and that other girl also called Therese often worked in tandem. The Masters would call the two f you, ‘Double T for trouble.’ All the women laughed at this remark. Then Therese asked, “I remember the other Therese had a big ‘R’ branded on her ass and a tattoo of the Roissy Chateau. She was fun. Whatever became of her?
A silence fell over the table. Pierre looked down and shuffled his feet. Therese said, “What?”
Finally, Jeanne spoke. “Therese along with several other girls- Nena, Eurydice, Corinne, Binh, myself who were here at the time – you were gone – were taken to Malaga, Spain where we were to be ‘entertainment’ for a slave auction and the crucifixion of poor Uta. There was some sort of terrorist attack.”
“Oh yes. I heard about that.”
“Anyway, poor Therese was killed in the attack.”
“Oh God! How awful!” cried Therese. Klaus, another valet who was also evidently eavesdropping sauntered over. He said, “Yes. It’s true. I was there. The other Therese was shot in the head. Nearly blew her head off.”
Marloes, along with the other girls at the table was silent. She saw tears forming in Therese’s eyes. Then she heard Klaus add, “She was kneeling down, blowing a fat American when she was shot. At least she died doing what she did best.”
The women ate the rest of their meal in silence.
Marloes continued to tell of her holiday at Gaspar’s estate. “I walked into the dining room full of trepidation. After all, the man sitting alone at the table, eating a half of grapefruit, was the same man who at Roissy had directed that my anus be enlarged so as to better accommodate him and later had the valets flog me. But he seemed very pleasant that morning. He looked up at me and said, ‘Good morning. I trust you slept well, and I see Cuc laid out a nice robe for you. By the way, that color is quite becoming on you. Please have a seat, Cuc will serve you some fruit and pastries.’ To say I was surprised at his comments would be an understatement. Once I sat down, Cuc appeared with a plate of pastries and half a grapefruit. And, most importantly, a large cup of coffee. Once I was served, Gaspar continued. ‘I am afraid I must leave you today. My sister married a Christian and they celebrate Christmas and always invite me. I don’t particularly care for the man Esther married, but I am quite fond of their son, Louis.’
Hearing this Jeanne interrupted. “Louis is my lover. The man who brought me to Roissy. He is Gaspar’s nephew.”
Marloes continued, “Gaspar said that I had probably noticed that there were no Christmas decorations in the house. ‘It is because I am not of the Christian faith. My family is Jewish, but my sister chose to marry outside the faith. Anyway, I go every year to their little feast. I should return by evening, and perhaps we can then get, how shall I say, better acquainted. Meanwhile, you may lounge around the manor. There is a library with many books as well as a snooker table, if you are so inclined.’ Imagine this politeness coming from a man who, here at Roissy, had already used me in all of my orifices, as well as having me flogged. How much better acquainted did he suppose we could get!”
Jeanne again interrupted, saying, “I told you that Gaspar was quite a different man away from Roissy.”
“He got up to leave – all dressed in a tweed suit and tie. Then he leaned over and kissed me lightly on the cheek. I was dumbfounded. He left and I was free to roam around his home, but I am sure he had cameras or his seemingly ever-present maid looking at me. I went into the library which was off the hallway near the dining room. There were a great many books on the shelves lining the walls. My knowledge of reading in French is not good, but there were a great many books with pictures or drawings. I opened one; the title was “Marie Gabrielle in St Europe” or something like that. I remember that the author was named Georges Pichard. There were many drawings of women who looked like prostitutes and who were being punished by nuns. Actually, not punished so much as horribly tortured. And then there was another book of drawings by a man called Loic Dubigeon. It too was full of drawings – so well drawn that they resembled photographs- of women being abused. Beaten and fucked. And finally, there were several books by someone called Guido Crepax. Those, too, were very erotic. Just looking at the pictures and drawings made me quite aroused. I thought about masturbating, but as I was sure I was being watched, instead I went to the snooker table and played. I imagine it was quite a sight – a nearly naked woman playing pool.”
“Snooker, not pool,” said Claudia.
“Whatever,” replied Marloes. “The afternoon passed and near dusk, Gaspar returned…”
Marloes was interrupted by Pierre. “Sorry to break up this gab fest, ladies. But it’s time to go to work. Claudia, you and Collette have duty in the dining room. Jeanne and Therese will be serving in the bar.”
Collette said, “But usually we have more than two girls in each area – four in the dining room and three in the bar.”
“But we haven’t been having as many ‘guests’ lately,” said Pierre. “Slow time of year, plus the pandemic.”
As Pierre led the four away, Jeanne leaned back over her shoulder and whispered, “Marloes, will you tell us this evening about the rest of your holiday with Gaspar.”
And Marloes mouthed, “Of course.”
But Jeanne was too far gone. She gave way to old Cyril’s insistent fingers. Despite her humiliation, she uttered a weak cry and her face changed to that face that indicates a woman reaching her pleasure. A face that is eternal, and beautiful. As Louis looked on, Jeanne’s cries turned to gasps as the orgasm swelled and convulsed throughout her body.
Claudia stood by the end table, not uttering a sound. And from the shadows by the fireplace, Emilie watched, feeling her own self becoming wet and aroused at seeing Jeanne. Then as Jeanne’s orgasm subsided, her sex made a few ‘pfft’ sounds, and old Cyril laughed and said, “Ahh, pussy farts! What a lovely sound.“ Then he pulled his fingers and thumb from Jeanne’s sex and rear, the thumb making a slight noise similar to that of a cork being pulled from a bottle of wine.
For a few moments silence ensued within the Roissy library before Cyril broke the silence saying, “Louis old chap, you might want to think about enlarging your young whore’s asshole. She’s quite tight. I had a bit of trouble even inserting my thumb. I can only imagine how troublesome it must be for that young cock of yours.” Jeanne’s face burned red with shame and humiliation. She dared not look up at her lover’s face. She thought, “I know Louis will leave me now. I’m sure he thinks of me as the lowest sort of whore. I’m sure he will just turn and leave. Leave me to my Fate. And then I shall kill myself.” And tears began forming in her eyes.
But Louis spoke, “Jeanne, you were even more beautiful when you came. It is no wonder that I love you so.” Then he came over and took Jeanne’s hand, raising her up from old Cyril, saying, “Now I must take you upstairs to my room. To bed.” With Louis’ hand guiding her, Jeanne stood up from the sofa and pushed her skirt down. As she did so, she could feel the weight of the medallion on the small chain hanging from her labia, and thought, “Perhaps Louis does love me. After all, he thinks enough of me to mark me as his property.” And she looked up at Louis and mouthed the words, “I love you.”
As the young lovers left the room, Old, fat Cyril brought his fingers under his nose and chuckled to himself. Gaspar made a slight frown and then resumed his conversation with Eric in whispered tones. The wood in the fireplace crackled as it burned. It was as if Time stood still. Then Cyril broke the near silence, looking at Emilie and saying, “You there. New girl. Bring me another brandy.”
(Tw: blood)
Haunted house’s walls: *starts to bleed, revealing 666*
Claudia:
Heh nice
