The lunch with Anne Marie, Verona and the other two Arte Television employees went on a long time. Much champagne was consumed. Verona knew that she was getting tipsy as was her producer, Mathilde. Their photographer, Jacques, was better at holding his alcohol since he was much larger and really had no taste for champagne. Finally, Verona leaned over to Anne Marie and asked, “Just when will I be able to interview those two girls you spoke about – Julienne and Blaise?”

Anne Marie answered, “They were both working in the library today. I should have pointed them out to you, but they are off duty now. I’m sure one of the valets has escorted them back to their room. Shall we go there now?” Anne Marie got up from the table. “Please follow me.”

Verona leaned over to Mathilde and whispered, “Finally, I get to interview someone who is a true slave for love.” Then she and her companions followed Anne Marie upstairs to a long hallway. About half way down, Anne Marie stopped and took a key from her pocket and inserted it into a lock on the heavy wooden door. She turned to Verona and said, “The doors to the girls’ rooms can only be locked from the outside.”

When Anne Marie opened the door, Verona saw two young women; each sitting on a bed on either side of the room. A small dressing table and mirror was against the wall and separated the two beds. There were two windows set high on the wall above the beds. And against one corner was a wardrobe; it had no door and Verona could see three or four dresses hanging in it. Two pair of high heeled mules were in the bottom of the wardrobe.

Anne Marie spoke, “This is Julienne,” nodding to the older looking girl, “And Blaise. Her real name is Marie-Blaise, but she goes only by Blaise.”

Verona looked more closely at the two girls sitting on the bed. The one called Blaise looked younger – probably in her very early twenties. She had a slim build and hair that fell in color somewhere between light brown and dishwater blonde. Her hazel eyes were heavily made up. Julienne, on the other hand, was older – possibly thirty judging from her world-weary face. She, too, had a slender figure with narrow shoulders. Her hair which was also a light brown or dark blonde hung to those same narrow shoulders. Verona thought that the two could almost pass for sisters. Verona also noticed that both were dressed in the same fashion as the girl who had served them lunch – dresses that were tight around the waist and belly but flared at the hips. The dress stopped just short of the girls’ breasts and were curved as a brassiere and caused each girls’ breasts to be presented forward. Verona thought that the nipples had been rouged but was not able to say for sure. Each girl also sat so that their legs were not closed.

When she asked Anne Marie about it, she responded, “It is a rule of Roissy that no girl sits with their legs closed. Or lips either for that matter.”

Mathilde leaned to Verona and whispered, “Look between their legs.” Verona did so and saw that the dresses were slit up so far in the front that each girl’s sex was clearly visible. But what was so striking to Verona was that Julienne’s sex was pierced by rings that were quite visible.

Anne Marie said to the two girls, “Both of you sit on one bed.” And then to Verona, “You may begin your interviews now.” And as Jacques began filming Verona said “Please tell me in your own words how you came to Roissy.”

After Etienne had abandoned Julienne at Roissy, she knew she was no more free than a bird in a cage, except that she was held there like a slave by her own desire to be a slave, a slave who craves the punishment and humiliation, even though she is ashamed to feel that way….

Of course, Most of the other girls at Roissy were whipped every morning. Immediately before breakfast they were tied to the banister in the drawing room and whipped on their rear, either with a crop or one of the short dog whips that the valets carried. These whippings were not overly severe, perhaps only a few strokes just hard enough to bring a few tears to the girls’ eyes.

But sometimes the morning whipping was different and given only to those who were deemed personal slaves like Julienne. She recalled that from her earlier time at Roissy, and now she was back there. One morning, Pierre, the valet, awakened Julienne and had her bathe and put on her make up. No clothing was allowed, nor was she allowed any breakfast, although she was able to have as much coffee as she wanted, probably to add to her sense of nervousness and to keep her on edge. By then the other girls at the chateau had dressed and finished breakfast and were waiting their turn to work in the library or dining room. They were generally assembled in the central large hall of the chateau.

Pierre took a chain and attached it to the rings that pierced Julienne’s labia. Then he tied her hands behind her back. Finally, she was blindfolded. Then he led her, her mules clacking on the tile floor, from her room down the hall, across the central hall where all the other girls could see her being led by the chain connected to her pierced genitals. Julienne could feel their looks –some of pity, some of disgust, and she suspected even a few of admiration. But Julienne was always humiliated to be led like some animal on a leash, especially when the leash was connected like it was.

She was led into an alcove with a raised stage. There Julienne was laid on the dais, her legs raised and spread, connected to two straps hanging from up right posts that were in turn attached to the leather straps around her ankles. Her tied hands were attached to a ring mounted in the back of the dais. Then the straps around her ankles were tightened. She was violently quartered, her legs quite open for all to see. Only then was the chain leash disconnected from the rings in her labia and the blindfold removed. Julienne knew she was wide open for all to see, for most of the girls and even a few valets came in to watch. Julienne was humiliated and very troubled. She could feel herself becoming wet and her clitoris was peeking out from beneath its hood. She wondered why she felt this way.

She remembered from her first stay at Roissy that sometimes one of the valets would choose a girl to whip whomever was laid on the dais. Sometimes they made them draw lots to determine who would wield the whip. This time the valets chose Niobe, the African girl. They made her also strip naked. The valets told Niobe to play with Julienne for a bit, but not enough to bring on a climax. She did so and wrested a low moan from Julienne. Then at the valet’s direction she stood astride Julienne’s belly and brought the whip down on her loins.

The whipping went on only for about ten minutes. But it was awful no matter what the length. Julienne was whipped hard, her thighs and lower belly marked with stripes. Her genitals with no hair to shield them soon became red and quite swollen. Especially her inner lips, since they were quite large and prominent in relation to the outer ones. Therefore, they received the brunt of the punishment. Julienne screamed and cried and begged for mercy all to no avail. She endured it to the bitter end.

Afterwards, she was left tied on the stage for about an hour. She could feel the welts rising; feel the sore ache in her loins. Feel the others in the room looking between her open legs. Once one of the valets told Julienne that she was whipped on Thursday so that she would be well marked for the weekend. This ensured that any new customers would know right away what type of girl she was and what should be done with her.

“Well, Julienne. Your answer, please.” It was Anne Marie talking. “Do you consent to what your Master wants of you or do you no longer wish to belong to him? It is one or the other. Choose now!”

Julienne stood there, completely naked with tears running down her cheeks. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Choose now! Give me your answer!” said Anne Marie harshly.

Julienne managed to say in a small voice, “I consent.”

“Say you consent to your Master’s wishes, that you consent to what he wants done to you. Say you want it also.” Again, in a small voice, “Yes, I consent to what Etienne wants to be done to me. I freely consent. I desire what he wants for me.”

“Good,” said Anne Marie. “That wasn’t so difficult was it?” Then she looked to little Yvette and said, “Yvette, please be so good as to show our guests in.”

Yvette nodded and went to the door and opened it. In came a man in a white medical coat, followed by three others: A rather tall slender brunette woman dressed impeccably - Verona Estrange, formerly the star of the television program ‘Discovery with Verona,’ her producer, Mathilde and cameraman, Jacques. Late last year, Verona and crew had done a feature on Roissy for Arte Television Network– part of a plan to revive Roissy’s coffers. The feature, although heavily edited to permit it to be shown on television was a great success for the network, and had fetched Roissy a hefty payment, enough to settle debts and put the Society in the black. The Masters were quite pleased and had expressed their gratitude by giving Anne Marie a raise in salary.

Upon seeing four strangers enter the room, Julienne reflexively went to cover herself. Anne Marie laughed at this and said, “Such modesty in a whore.” Julienne blushed and placed her hands at her side. Then Anne Marie looked at her and said, “Julienne, this is Doctor Serrano. He will perform the procedure.”

Julienne looked bewildered and said, “But you…”

Anne Marie cut her off. “My dear, it’s true I pierced the lips of your sex so that the rings could be inserted, and I branded Etienne’s initials on your rear, but this will require true medical knowledge which I do not possess.” Then turning to Verona, “I trust you got Julienne on tape.”

Verona answered, “Yes indeed. It was great. The way her face changed as she read what her lover wants from her. And how she agreed to it with tears streaming down her face. A picture of true submission. I take it we will also be allowed to video the procedure?”

Anne Marie answered, “Yes, of course. But I have no idea how you will be permitted to broadcast it.”

“Leave that to us,” said Verona.

Christmas at Roissy: Part Six

It was the day after Christmas and Pierre, the senior valet at Roissy had to work. He was not pleased. As he entered the chateau and walked down the long corridor to the steps that led to the dungeon, he thought, “Almost thirty years I’ve worked for the Society. I’ve supervised hundreds of women as they dressed, ate and used the toilet, escorted them to the Master’s chambers, administered countless whippings and beating – even when I had to get up in the middle of the night to do it – and this is the thanks I get, having to cut my holiday short just because Anne Marie has too many bitches that she can’t trust to leave supervised by one valet. If only she had asked me, I could have told her that three or maybe, maybe four is the maximum number that she should keep on hand during the holidays. But no! She wanted to keep Blaise Marie, Julienne, Jeanne, that bald American bitch, Collette and then Anna since she was returned after the party on Christmas Eve. They have to be fed and watered. Plus, she wants them beaten regularly. So, Charles, James and I have to work on the day after Christmas!”

Pierre’s grumbling thoughts were interrupted by Charles, the other valet who was also there. “What’s got you all upset, Pierre? Don’t you want to be here with me and James and these lovely whores?” Charles gestured with his small whip to a cell which held one of the unfortunate slaves.

Pierre answered, “No. I’d much rather be home with my fat wife and ugly children and have some of the younger valets tending to these bitches.”

The valet James answered him, “Those younger valets were on duty yesterday while you were home in your warm little cottage in the village.”

Charles laughed and said, “Yes, and you were here too, James. Getting your member sucked and then administering the whip to them.”

He responded, “Anne Marie said to use them as we wished, but be sure to punish them afterwards. No Merry Christmas for these slaves.”

Pierre said, “Enough chatter. Let’s get to it.” Then opening the door to the cell that contained Julienne.

“Come on miss, time for your whipping. Please be so kind as to move to the whipping post.”

Jacques, the Arte Television cameraman assigned to Verona was a true professional. He had filmed everything – Verona’s interviews with Anne Marie, the valet, the prostitute Niobe, and the slaves Julienne and Blaise, as well as Julienne’s preparation this morning. Now he filmed the African girl Niobe leading Julienne down the hall like a dog on a leash. Being led by a leash attached to her most tender spot, Julienne had to step carefully, especially so since she was wearing high heeled mules that clacked noisily on the stone floors of the chateau. He had heard Anne Marie say that Julienne was to be taken to the Blue Room, but Jacques didn’t know how far that was. Anne Marie, Verona, and Mathilde were behind Niobe and Julienne, but Jacques heard Mathilde say, “Be sure and get a panoramic shot of the expressions on the other girl’s faces. Jacques also heard Niobe quietly say to Julienne, “I certainly hope Anne Marie lets me whip you this morning. You and that other bitch, Blaise, feel you’re so high and mighty. Not a common street whore like me and the other ‘house girls.’ Just because you have a man who you think loves you. A man who loves you, but wants to make you a prostitute. At least I know why I let all these men use me – money, lots of it. But you. No. You think it’s a way for you to prove that you really do love your man more than anything. You go ahead and call out for him while I’m whipping that miserable thing of yours. See what good it does.” Then as Jacques watched, Niobe stopped suddenly and turned to Julienne. Holding the chain attached to her sex in one hand, she pulled Julienne’s face to hers with the other. Then she kissed Julienne deeply. So deeply and so long that finally Anne Marie said, “That’s enough now, Niobe. You can play some more with her once she is secured on the whipping table. Come along now.” And Jacques filmed the entire incident, thinking all the while, “Women! Who on earth can understand them?“

The pale light of early morning shone through the window of the hotel-like room in the west wing of Chateau Roissy on two figures in bed. Verona grasped the headboard with both hands. Mathilde, her producer and occasional lover, had been busy between Verona’s splayed open legs for fifteen minutes, alternating thrusts of the first two fingers of her right hand into Verona’s vagina with small biting kisses on her lower lips and clitoris. Verona knew she was quite close. But before she could achieve release, there was a loud knock at the door followed by a male voice that said, “Your wake-up call, ladies; it’s 6 AM.” “Merde,” hissed Verona, then looking down at Mathilde, “Please, three minutes more.” Instead, Mathilde withdrew her fingers and leaned back in the bed. Then she placed the same two fingers against Verona’s lips and said, “No more, my love. Duty calls.” Then she got out of bed and began to slip on her jeans. Verona, breathing in her own scent from where Mathilde had placed her fingers on Verona’s lips said, “Oh, all right,” Then she added, “You’re so lucky. No one cares how a producer looks or what she wears. I have to at least look presentable.” And with that Verona got up from bed and began to arrange herself. Forty five minutes later, Verona was presentable. Shortly afterwards, a valet came to escort Verona and Mathilde to the place Anne Marie had designated earlier. Along the way, they stopped by the room occupied by Jacques, the cameraman assigned to Verona and Mathilde. The valet led them to Anne Marie. Then, with her leading, the three were shown to a sort of refractory where there were half a dozen women getting ready for the day. None seemed to notice or care about the Arte Television crew, or the fact that most of the women were naked. They went about their business – getting ready for the day, eating pastries from a silver tray, drinking coffee, or gossiping. Anne Marie noticed the startled looks on the faces of Verona and her crew and said, “These are the rest of the ‘house girls.’ There isn’t really any reason for them to get dressed as most will be naked for the early morning customers in a bit,” Then, “Ah, here we are.” Verona looked at the scene. There was Julienne, completely naked, sitting in a chair, the type of chair at a salon that leans back almost vertically, so that hair might be washed and dried. Yvette, Anne Marie’s ‘girl’ and the black girl Verona had interviewed two days ago were busily applying make-up to Julienne and putting her hair up in a pony tail tied with a red ribbon. Verona noticed that there was a mirror across from the chair and that the two girls made Julienne keep her legs open while they worked on her. When Verona glanced in the mirror she could easily see the chain hanging down from the ring that pierced Julienne’s labia. Seeing Verona looking, Anne Marie said, “If the weight of the chain doesn’t remind her, seeing it in the mirror does. Constant proof of her enslaved state. Now watch as Niobe and Yvette apply the finishing touches.” Yvette had finished penciling Julienne’s brows and reached over to a tray containing some boxes of powder and several bottles containing the type of liquid used as lipstick and applied with a brush. Taking a brush, Yvette carefully applied some sort of powder to Julienne’s nipples. Verona noticed that Julienne winced when the brush made contact. Anne Marie explained, “Remember, the poor girl had clips on her nipples all night. I expect they are sensitive even to the slightest touch.” When Yvette applied the powder it began to darken almost immediately. As she was doing this, Niobe, using the liquid lipstick began coloring Julienne’s nether lips. Like the powder above, it, too, darkened on contact. Soon Julienne’s nipples and lower lips were a dark peony, making a drastic contract to her pale skin. Anne Marie added, “Both the powder and the liquid will produce a faint burning, itching sensation.” Then she went over to inspect the work of Niobe and Yvette. Once satisfied, Anne Marie said, “Good. She is ready now. Who wants to lead Julienne to the Blue Room? Niobe volunteered; she grasped the chain attached to the ring that pierced Julienne’s sex while Yvette tied Julienne’s hands behind her. Then Niobe led poor Julienne from the refractory while all the other women watched. Verona thought to herself, “What are they feeling? Dread? Pity? Horror? Perhaps envy?“

Anne Marie spoke first. “Etienne, it is good to see you again. What has it been? Two years? Three?” Then looking at the girl, “And Julienne, it is also good to see you. You look well.”

The girl nodded and smiled but did not look up. Little Yvette had grabbed a dressing gown and held it to her breasts when the couple entered looked to her Mistress and cleared her throat and gave a look that said, ‘Should I leave?’. Anne Marie said, “No. Stay, it’s all right.” Then turning to Etienne, “Please. You two sit on the other sofa there and tell me why you are here.”

Yvette noticed that when Julienne sat don on the other sofa that was leather covered, she pulled up her dress so that she didn’t sit on it. Yvette also noticed that the girl kept her legs apart and did not close her knees. Etienne looked first at Yvette and then to Anne Marie. Anne Marie said to him, “This is Yvette,” and provided no further explanation. Etienne, looking at Yvette, said, “And this is Julienne.” Yvette noticed he still had the leash in his hand and the girl called Julienne had never looked up. Anne Marie stated to no one in particular, “Etienne brought Julienne here to Roissy several years ago. She was trained, and I branded her and affixed Etienne’s crest to the rings where I pierced her sex. Then Julienne stayed with us for several months. She was quite popular with both the Masters and customers. But Etienne took her away.” Then looking at Etienne, “And now they are back?”

Etienne spoke up. “Yes. I have to go to the United States on business for a couple months. What with the new emphasis there on immigration, I thought it might be awkward for Julienne. I can’t very well leave her unsupervised and thought perhaps she might be able to earn a little at Roissy while I’m gone. How does that sound to you?”

Anne Marie lit a cigarette, smiled and said, “I think that perhaps we might accommodate her. She was quite popular before, and I’m sure you have maintained her disciplinary regime. She can share a room with the new girl that Rene brought. Her name is Blaise.”

Etienne snorted. “Blaise? Isn’t that a man’s name?”

“Usually, but not always,” answered Anne Marie, who then rang for a valet.

A valet soon appeared. Anne Marie looked at Etienne and said, “I presume she has no luggage?”

“None. No belongings. Just what she is wearing. I told her she wouldn’t need any clothes.”

Anne Marie looked at Yvette and said, “Go with her. Get her settled. Oh, and introduce her to the new girl.” Then without so much as a good bye, Etienne handed the leash to the valet who led Julienne away with little Yvette accompanying them.

After they departed Etienne looked at Anne Marie. He shook her hand and as he was leaving said, “Now don’t be too easy on her.”

Anne Marie answered, “Oh, we never are.”

After Etienne left, Anne Marie sat back down to her spread sheets. And in the hallway Yvette noticed silent tears streaming down Julienne’s face.

Anne Marie spoke up. “Yes, Rene R. brought Blaise to Roissy. He has, in fact brought three women to Roissy – Blaise, of course, but also a girl named Chloe and one called O.”

Verona then asked, “Are they still at Roissy?”

Anne Marie answered, “No. Unfortunately, Chloe had only visited Roissy once. She was to come for training but was with Rene on holiday at Malaga last December when there was a terrorist attack. While Rene escaped, Chloe, during the confusion of the attack was taken captive by the terrorists. There has been no word of her since.”

Then Blaise spoke up. “Rene started dating me in the spring. I guess I am just a substitute for that Chloe girl.”

Anne Marie smiled and said, “My dear, all girls are just substituting for another girl. At least in men’s eyes.”

Verona went on, “And this girl called O?”

Again, Anne Marie answered, “Rene first brought O to Roissy a little over three years ago. She was so in love with him. Rene once told me that he had asked O to come to Roissy in the same manner that Julienne described, even down to asking her while she was completely naked and holding her breasts in his hands. But eventually Rene gave her away to his older half-brother, Sir Stephen S. And now O is no longer here.” Anne Marie did not go on to tell Verona that both O and the Russian girl, Natascha, were ‘on loan’ to Haus der Sklavin.

Verona raised an eyebrow and said, “So, girls at Roissy may be literally given away?”

Anne Marie answered, “Yes. If a girl is a personal slave to a Master, she is considered his property. Property may be sold or given away as the owner decides.”

“How very interesting.” Said Verona.

Verona looked at the two now naked girls. While she still saw a strong resemblance, she noticed that the older girl, Julienne, while still slender was more rounded and fuller than the younger Blaise who was almost skinny. She began the interview by asking Julienne, “Just how did you come to Roissy?”

Julienne answered, “Etienne, my lover, my Master, brought me.” Verona said, “Please give me more details.” Julienne continued, “We met at a bar. He bought me a drink. I was newly back in Paris from Milan where I had been studying art. I thought he was cute. We hit it off and began dating. He was quite the romantic at first – wining and dining me. Buying me flowers – dozens of roses. And the sex was great. I came every time with him. I fell completely in love with him. I moved into his apartment. I told him I would do anything for him. He laughed at that, but over time he kept asking if I really would do anything for him. Of course, I said I would.”

“So, he said, ‘go to Roissy’?”

“Not in so many words. One day we were in the park near Sainte Chapelle. It was fairly deserted. He asked me to completely undress. Once I was totally nude, we made love – well, he went down on me. I came. Then he pulled me to my feet and came behind me. He reached around and cupped my breasts in his hands. Then rubbing my nipples between his fingers and thumbs he whispered in my ear, ‘Were you serious about doing anything for me?’ I could feel his erection pushing against me. I answered ‘yes’ and knelt before him, undid his trousers and took him in my mouth. After he discharged in my mouth, he pulled me to my feet and said, I want you to go to Roissy.’ The next day, he brought me here for the first time. That was almost six years ago.”

Suddenly Blaise looked up and almost shouted, “That was the same way Rene did me – the same park near Sainte Chapelle. Telling me to undress completely at the park. Caressing my nipples and telling me about Roissy!”

Anne Marie smiled and said, “It seems to be a common tactic among some of the Masters. Perhaps a ritual among them.”

As Anne Marie entered the room, Cyril was having a ‘discussion’ with Reynard. “So, the Brits did indeed charge your wife with driving under the influence?”

Renard responded with a slight edge in his voice. “Yes. It was in all the London papers. And ‘Paris Match’ ran nearly a half page on it, even had a photograph of us going into court.”

“Well, she is still a very comely woman. Hardly looks the part of a super model gone to seed. Her face is a little weathered, but she still has a figure that would stop a train. I’m sure that helped with the judge.”

“Yes. That and a little contribution of 30,00 Euros gifted to his favorite charity resulted in Stephanie getting only three month’s home confinement and probation,” replied Renard sourly.

Gaspard whispered to Raymond who was sitting next to him at the conference table, “It’s a shame she couldn’t do the confinement here. She would probably be a good draw. Oh, here is Anne Marie with the report.”

Anne Marie entered and quickly flipped on a projector showing several slides about Roissy’s finances. She said, “AS you can see gentlemen, although we finished in the black last year, our profits were down markedly from previous years.”

“And why is that?” asked Cyril.

Anne Marie responded, “There are many reasons. Guest clientele who provide the bulk of our earnings was down quite q bit last year. It wasn’t due to lack of effort on behalf of staff…”

Cyril interrupted, “Yes, those bitches still remember how to give a good blow job!” Then he laughed at his little joke.

Anne Marie, who was not amused, continued, “Many clients were afraid to venture out in this year of plague. This led to a decrease in income from the bar and restaurant as well as hotel usage. Even short-term liaisons with a Roissy slave were down from previous years. Sadly, I do not expect the first quarter to be any better profit-wise. The time of year – winter- and the continuing plague will likely result in fewer customers. But we have taken steps to cut expenses.”

“How so?” inquired Gaspar.

“Well, staff has been reduced a bit. Several of the free prostitutes did not return from the Christmas break. Perhaps they thought they might do better on the street rather than staying here and turning over a good bit of their earnings.”

This time it was Raymond who interrupted. “So, these girls would rather take their chances on the streets? Trading our protection, a warm room and meals, and weekly testing for the plague for a chance – just a chance, mind you – to make a little more money?”

Anne Marie continued, “Evidently so. But their absence means reduced costs – meals, heating, less water usage, etc. Plus, as I stated, this time of the year is slow. As you probably noticed when you arrived, there were only two guests in the library. Of course, you Masters will come regularly, but you are not paying to use the facilities or paying for a slave’s usage.”

“Ah, the perks of being a Roissy Master,” interjected Gaspar. “Just how many slaves do we have at present?”

“Barely a dozen and a half. There are the free prostitutes – Apryl, her twin Selena. The two Vietnamese girls Quy and Bihn. And the Nigerian girl, Niobe. Judith, Clarice, Claudia and Therese. And I guess I would place Collette and Marloes in that group, also. Then there are the girls who are property of a Master or the Society proper. Girls like Anna, Blaise Marie, Julienne, Jeanne. And for the time being, that bald American girl, abigail. Even with Anna leaving shortly to do a fashion show – and remember the Society gets most of what she is paid for these, I think these will be more than enough to satisfy any customer requirements. And yours, of course.”

Gaspar nodded and continued, “At the last quarterly meeting you had mentioned that Etienne and Axel, both Masters, were returning to France with some women that need training here at Roissy. And there was that proposal from Arte Television to send a reporter here. What about those?”

“Of course, as Masters both Etienne and Axel can come anytime and bring whoever. However, due to the plague, both men have decided not to bring their women to Roissy yet. It is my understanding that they are staying elsewhere and will bring Dani and Zoe to Roissy in the spring. As for Verona F., the reporter for Arte Television. For reasons associated with the virus, she, too, has postponed. Not having those three girls here reduces our costs for the first quarter. And finally, we have furloughed two cooks and three valets for the remainder of the quarter. Subject to any questions, this concludes my presentation.”

As Julienne was being led along like a cow, she thought to herself about the first time Etienne had brought her to Roissy, “It was what? Five, no I think it was seven years ago. Anyway, it seems like a dream now; one of those dreams that are so startling that you awaken but can only recall bits and pieces of it. I guess that’s why I cannot remember exactly how long ago I came here for the first time. I do remember Etienne telling me that he wanted me to come here – or as he said then, ‘I want you to agree to go to Roissy’ – to prove my love and devotion to him. I was young and naïve. We had only known oner another for about six weeks, but I was so in love with him. I thought I had found my soul mate. And maybe I did.

“Anyway, it was an evening in late summer. I remember getting in a car. Another man drove. Etienne sat in the back with me. It was some sort of limousine, perhaps a large Citroen or maybe a Peugeot? Anyway, once I was in, Etienne told me to remove my panties and pull up my dress – I had worn a pale blue summer dress with dark blue polka dots that buttoned in front - so that my bare ass was against the leather. Once I wiggled out of my panties, he took them and put them in his suit pocket. I can still recall how cool the leather of the car seat felt against my skin. Then he unbuttoned the top several buttons on the dress. I leaned forward, thinking he wanted to caress me. Instead, he took his pen knife and cut the straps of the bra. Then he grabbed the top of my bra and pulled it hard. So hard that it broke. He pulled it off and threw it on the floor of the car. Thus, I was completely naked under my dress. The car air conditioning was on. The driver adjusted it so that cold air blew on me. I remember feeling my nipples stiffen, pushing against the cloth of the dress. Etienne carefully rebuttoned my dress, without otherwise touching me. We drove in silence. I was fearful, but I was aroused by my fear.

We turned off the main road. Etienne leaned over and said, ‘Now I must blindfold you, my love.’ He took a silk handkerchief from his other suit pocket and formed a blindfold with it. Then he tied it around my head. I couldn’t see. Blessed darkness. It aroused me even more. I felt the car stop. The door beside me opened. Hands took my arms. A man’s voice said, ‘Careful Mademoiselle, don’t stumble and fall. I will lead you inside.’ I didn’t recognize the voice. Was it the man who was driving? He had not spoken a word the entire drive. I turned my head and said, ‘Etienne, are you coming with me?’ He replied, ‘I will be along shortly. Go on now.’ The man led me. I could feel gravel crunching under my high heels. I heard a door open, and a female voice say, ‘Good evening. We will take her from here.’ Other hands, softer hands, female hands, took my arms and guided me. I no longer felt gravel under my feet. Instead, it was stone, stone floors.”

James broke Julienne’s reverie, saying, “Here we are.” At the sound of his voice, her mind came from the past to the present. She looked around. They were in a room adjacent to the library, a room that looked inconsequential save for one feature. There was a single supporting column in the center of the room; it seemed to be a support for an exposed beam that ran from one wall of the room to the other. But what stood out about the column was the fact that there was a ring set in it about two meters up. And there was a chain hanging from the ring. James quickly undid Julienne’s hands from behind her back, only to attach them to the chain, again using the leather bracelets on her wrists. He tightened the chain, so that Julienne’s body was stretched. He took Julienne’s hair in his hands, pulled on it, and turned her face to his. Then he kissed her on the mouth, so deeply that she could hardly breathe. She felt his fingers invade her sex. He continued kissing and fondling her for a full minute. She felt the riding crop stuck in his belt press against her belly. Then he stepped back and pulled the crop from his belt, saying, “You know what comes next.”

And Julienne thought to herself, “Of course, I do.”

Julienne continued, “Etienne left me here at Roissy for several months after I had my sex pierced and his brand placed on my rear. I remember he said, ‘Now there will be no way to hide your condition as a personal slave; my slave; my property.’ And of course, he was correct, many more men – Masters and customers- took an interest in me once they saw how I was marked. And I was treated more harshly. I remember how I and the other two girls who were pierced and branded – Yvonne and the girl called O- would be taken each morning from our rooms. We would be tied to one of the balustrades of the stairs and then whipped. Each morning. True, it was not a long whipping, not really hard enough to mark us, but enough to make us cry and beg whoever was doing the whipping for mercy.”

“And did they stop then?” asked Verona.

“Not really,” said Julienne. Then she continued, “It was the three of us for what seemed like several months. I don’t know; I lost all track of time. But then, Yvonne left. It was just O and me. Then O’s Master, an Englishman I believe, took her away. It was just me. Then Etienne returned and took me away to our new home- a nice cottage in Strasbourg, near the German border. I loved it there. Etienne worked at some job; I stayed in the cottage. As before I was usually completely naked. I remember that the rings that pierce my sex would softly jingle when I moved around quickly. The cottage had a sun room where I painted.”

Anne Marie interrupted, “Julienne is a truly gifted painter. Some of her paintings may be seen on the walls of the chateau. You may have noticed them. She is quite the modern impressionist.”

Julienne laughed, “Yes. I would get so involved in my painting that I would forget that the sunroom where my easel and paint were had glass walls. Passerbys could easily see me there, completely naked, brush in hand.”

Anne Marie interrupted again, “Julienne, tell mademoiselle why you are back at Roissy.”

“Oh yes,” Julienne continued. “Etienne told me that he had to go to the United States for an extended period of time. He would not leave me alone, so he returned me once again to Roissy. For the third time. He said that while he worked in America, I would ‘work’ in Paris. He said that because I am a personal slave, customers would be paying twice the normal fee to have me. Of course, the Masters pay nothing. He also said that I would be treated quite harshly to remind me of my slavery and devotion to him.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Julienne, and then she began: “You see after my first visit here, Etienne took me back to Paris where we shared an apartment. Things were as before in some ways, yet very different in others. I followed some of the rules from Roissy – I threw away all of my underwear – no more bras, or panties, and I always slept naked. In fact, most of the time in our apartment, I was naked save for a dressing gown. He would get up and leave for work. I was more of a lazy girl. I had classes at school, but I didn’t always go. Etienne made a good salary, I was happy to stay at home and wait for him. Sometimes when we would go out to a restaurant, he would slide his hand up my skirt to my bare sex and fondle me. I loved it, and I loved Etienne so much. I told him I would do anything for him. Anything at all. He said, ‘Will you be my slave? My total slave?’ I said yes, of course, and he brought me back to Roissy. We sat in front of Anne Marie while she asked me if I was willing to have Etienne’s marks of ownership placed on my body. Placed on my body without knowing what they would be or where these marks would be placed. I said yes, and Anne Marie put a document in front of me to read. It was a contract between Etienne and me whereby I gave up my freedom to him and agreed to be his slave. I happily signed it.”

Anne Marie interrupted, “A mere legality, just in case a girl later changed her mind.”

Verona asked, “Does that happen often?”

“Almost never,” said Anne Marie, then turning to Julienne, “Please continue.”

Julienne continued, “This time I was not kept in a cell, nor was I given to other men. Instead, Etienne and I stayed in a suite in the hotel part of Roissy. I still remember that night. He said he was so proud of me saying that I would be his slave. He said, ’You are totally mine now. And I love you for it.’ Then he tied me to the bed and rang for a valet. Shortly a valet came in with another girl – a naked redheaded girl. The valet brought her into the room on a leash, but the leash was attached to a large iron ring that was piercing her labia. I had never seen anything like that before. Etienne said, ‘This is O. She is a slave to another member of the Society.’ Then to the girl, ‘Show her the mark of your Master.’ When he did, she turned around and there on her rear was a brand. A large ‘SS.’ Etienne then said, ‘I want you to be marked in a similar way. Do you agree?’ Of course, I said yes. Then Etienne looked at O and said, ‘I want you to go down on her. All night. Caress and please her, but do not under any circumstances let her reach orgasm. I want Julienne exhausted and aroused in the morning when Anne Marie pierces her and then brands her with my initials.’ And O did just that. She went down on me and, each time I was close to orgasm she would stop. I remember there were tears in her eyes and she said, I’m sorry. Forgive me,’ but she did her job. Etienne watched, and I never came.”

Again, Anne Marie interrupted, “At this time, only O and a girl named Yvonne were pierced and branded personal slaves. Julienne was soon to join them.”

Julienne continued, “The next morning I was taken to a room where there was a seat with stirrups like in a gynecologist office. I was arranged in it with my legs spread wide. Etienne held my hand while Anne Marie pierced my labia and inserted a gold ring with Etienne’s insignia hanging from it. And then I was tied to a post. There was the smell of burning charcoal although I was blindfolded and unable to see it, I knew it was brazier with a branding iron being heated. Suddenly I felt a sharp burning pain on my bottom. It was awful. I fainted from the pain. Anne Marie had branded me.” “Show them, my dear,” said Anne Marie. Julienne got up from the bed and turned around. There on her buttocks was a brand showing ‘’ET.’ It was somewhat faded but still visible.

“My God,” said Verona as Mathilde, the producer said to Jacques, “Did you get video of that?”