Ari and Margareta were already in the room when Michael brought Zoe, Margareta was still dressed. Ari was wearing a robe and standing by the sofa. He noted the look of surprise on Zoe’s face, and said, “You weren’t expecting to also find a woman here?”

Zoe, with down cast eyes replied, “No, Sir.”

Ari said, “Please go to Margareta. Kiss her and undress her. Then I want to see you two caress one another.”

Zoe obediently went to Margareta and kissed her on the mouth. Margareta kissed her back, but without much enthusiasm. She had female lovers in the past, but knew this was for Ari’s benefit, not hers. She and Zoe were merely the actors in his fantasy. She let Zoe remove her dress, then bra and finally panties. Ari said, “Now caress her breasts and then her sex.” Zoe did so and Margareta felt herself becoming aroused. “That’s more like it,” said Ari. “Now, kiss her breasts and nipples.” Now Margareta reached down and ran her fingers over Zoe’s flat belly to her sex. Zoe moaned slightly at Margareta’s touch.

Then Ari opened his robe and said to Zoe, “That’s enough. Now come caress me with your mouth.” And Margareta watched as Zoe did as she was told.

++++

Dani’s night was not as pleasant.

Verona blinked in the sudden bright light, but saw a man dressed similarly to the way the valet named Pierre had been earlier. But this was not Pierre; this man was younger, taller and more slender. He had a full head of black hair and a stern look on his face. He quickly went to the chain hanging from a ring set in the wall, several meters above the bed. The other end of the chain was attached to the ring set in the leather collar around Verona’s neck, where her hands were also secured. Pulling on the chain caused Verona to rise. She quickly got on her knees, and then as the man pulled the chain some more, she got to her feet. She stood naked, her feet on the bed, her hands at her throat as the bracelets she wore on her wrists were clamped to the ring in the collar around her neck. She looked down in fear at the valet and saw him draw a riding crop from his belt. “Turn to the wall,” he said. Then he put a foot on the bed to steady himself.

Verona heard the whistle of the crop and felt a deep burning across her buttocks. This was quickly followed by at least four more blows, each parallel to the previous. It caught Verona by such surprise that she barely had time to scream and say, “Don’t! No! Please! Please don’t! I beg you! Stop! Please!”

With her buttocks burning from the blows, the man took Verona by the hips and said, “Turn around please.” As he turned her hips so that she was facing him and her back to the stone wall of the room, she felt the crop he was holding in his hand brush against her. Then he raised the crop and brought it down hard on the front of her thighs. She screamed as the first blow struck, but again it was in vain. The valet laid four more blows on her thighs. Then he replaced the crop in his belt and loosened the chain a little so that Verona could slump down a bit. Now she was able to assume a kneeling position, but with her hands still secured above her head.

The valet stepped back and considered his work. He could see, and Verona could feel, welts already beginning to rise where she had been whipped. The valet smiled. At Verona or at his work? Then without a word, he turned and left leaving Verona softly sobbing.

Verona’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Pierre’s voice saying, ‘Just what do we have here?” Verona looked up and saw her camera man Jacques and Frida, the junior producer who was taking Verona’s regular producer (and lover) Mathilde’s place due to Mathilde’s recovery from Covid, standing in front of a locked door. Frida, her platinum blonde hair done up in a bun, was holding both a tape recorder and notebook in her hands. Verona noticed the look of – what? Suprise? Shock? Bewilderment? - on the face of the young woman. She thought, “They have never seen me when I was unclothed. Usually dressed for my show, ’Discovery with Verona,’ or perhaps casually for rehearsals, but certainly never naked.”

Pierre said, “Who are you? And why are you here?”

Frida quickly said, “I’m the producer for Verona’s television show, and this is Jacques her camera man. Anne Marie said it would be okay for us to get Verona’s thoughts about her first night here.”

Pierre scowled. “I’m to see her to bed. I’m supposed to chain her to her bed just as if she were any other slave here at Roissy.”

Now another voice spoke. It was Anne Marie who appeared from around a corner. “It’s okay, Pierre. I told Frida that she might have a little time to capture Verona’s thoughts. Now, unlock the door and let them have five minutes to interview and film her. Then you may proceed as usual.”

Pierre replied, “Yes, ma'am,” and unlocked the door to the small, cell like room where Verona would sleep during her stay at Roissy.

Verona lay there on the marble floor, softly sobbing and whimpering, hoping the cool of the marble might soothe her tortured flesh. She was sure the whip had left welts and marks which would soon turn to purple bruises. Then Verona felt her head being lifted from the floor by someone. She turned and saw that it was one of the men who had whipped her and had taken her before that. He was till masked and had squatted down with his legs spread. Verona’s eyes were drawn to his crotch where his sex, now partially flaccid, hung down. She stared at his sex momentarily, thinking to herself, “That was inside me not long ago, thrusting and tearing at me.”

The man spoke, “We are done with you for tonight, but do not think your ordeal is over. In fact, it is just beginning. We have been told that you are some sort of video journalist who wants to explore what it is to be a sex slave. Well, your wish is to be granted. You will learn that your only purpose is to serve us. During the day you will be dressed as a Roissy slave and be given menial tasks such as cleaning and serving in the bar or restaurant. But if asked- no, if told- you will immediately cease what you are doing and give yourself to any Master who desires you. In any way, he desires. You will not be whipped except to instil discipline.” He paused, then continued, “Nights will give you no respite. In fact, you will be treated more harshly at night. Each night you will be kept naked in chains. You will serve us still, but as your hands will be chained together as they are now, you will serve us only with your mouth and your widespread thighs. And you will be whipped each night, before you are chained in your bed. Do you understand?”

Verona, still lying on the marble floor, did not answer. However, she noticed the man’s member becoming erect as he described what her life would be like at Roissy. Then the man reached down and slapped her face, saying, “Answer me! Do you understand?”

Now Verona whimpered, “Yes, Sir.”

Jacques, Verona’s long time camera man, had filmed Verona’s presentation from a quiet corner. Although Jacques liked men rather than women, he had felt himself becoming aroused watching his boss, who often treated him badly, being basically raped, whipped and humiliated. He did not speak and remained out of her sight, but thought to himself, “You are, indeed, getting what you asked for.”

Having heard Verona say that she understood the rules of Roissy and what would be happening to her, the masked man stood up and called for Collette and Claudia. He said to Verona, “These two will escort you to your room. There a valet will put you to bed.” The two women helped Verona to her feet without saying anything. Then Collette took a leash – the same leash that had been attached to Verona’s collar to lead her into the library – and reattached it to the ring in the leather collar that Verona wore around her neck. Then Collette said, “Please come with us.”

The Masters of Roissy watched as Verona was led away while Jacques filmed it.

Dani’s reverie was interrupted by a man’s voice. It was James, the valet. He said, “It’s time. Let’s get it over with. I have only an hour or so left on my shift.” Then he undid the hanging chain from the bracelets on Dani’s wrists that held her in an uncomfortable, stooped position with her hands raised behind her back. Dani, freed from this painful position, fell to the floor of the dungeon. Then James, without speaking and with one hand holding the leash that was attached to the large ring piercing Dani’s labia, took her by the shoulders and guided her up the 39 steps to the main floor of the Chateau. There he released her shoulders and said, “Your hands will remain bound behind your back, and I will lead you by the leash attached to your sex past the refectory to the whipping room. The other slaves here have been told to watch you being taken. Your Master wants you to be seen by them in order to further humiliate you.” Then he took the leash and started down the long hallway.

Albert and Charles Martel, the other two valets on duty in the refectory that morning, had assembled the other slaves – Niobe, the blonde twins Apryl and Selena, Collette, Claudia, Marloes, Jeanne, Therese, Quy, Binh, as well as Verona- to watch Dani being taken to the whipping room. Dani could feel their eyes on her. She thought, “I wonder what they are thinking. They know that I am being taken to the little room with the raised dais. There I’ll be tied spread eagle with my legs splayed open and raised, my sex visible to all. It’s so humiliating to be watched while I am taken there, especially the way I am being led – like an animal on a leash.”

And some of the girls were, indeed, aghast at the sight of poor Dani being led that way. But some had other feelings – perhaps jealousy or envy. As Dani passed by, Collette leaned over to Jeanne and whispered in her ear, “Watch and just think, that may be you the next time.” To which Jeanne replied, “If that is what Louis wants of me.” Hearing this, Marloes just shook her head.

James led Dani into the whipping room. Unlike the music room at Anne Marie’s the walls were not lined with cork. Instead, the wall directly in front of the raised dais had a very large mirror hanging from a hook. “James said to Dani, “That’s so you can see yourself open and being whipped.” Then he had Dani sit on the dais. First, he unclipped her hands from behind her back, only to secure them to rings set at the head of the dais opposite the mirrored wall. Then, one at a time and using the bracelets on her ankles, James bound her legs to the small posts on either side of the dais. Only after doing so, did he unhook the metal dog leash from the ring piercing her labia. Then with a flourish of his hand, he waved at the mirrored wall where Dani could see herself open, the smaller chain from her pierced cervix hanging from her vagina, and said, “Behold, the lovely lady!”

While Dani, chained in the dungeon below Chateau Roissy, had no way of knowing it was dawning, Verona watched the morning sunlight gradually brighten in the basement window set high above the little fit covered platform that served as her bed. She was still in a kneeling position with her hands bound to the chain looped around a ring set in the stone wall. Earlier was it an hour, two hours, it seemed a lifetime ago- a valet had come into her room, hauled her to her feet, and flogged her. After he left, Verona had tried to ease the burning pain in her buttocks and thighs by pressing against the cool stone of the wall. It had helped a little and she had dozed some. But now she was awake and wondered what would happen next. Suddenly, Verona heard the door to her mall, cell like room being opened. “Oh my God!” she thought. “Another flogging?” But when the door opened, she saw two small women come in. They were both dressed in dull grey sack dresses, not naked as was Verona. A veritable giant of a man, dressed in clothes similar to that worn by Pierre and the valet who had flogged her earlier came in behind them. Verona blinked and looked at the naked girls. They appeared to be Asian.

In fact, they were. It was Bihn and Quy. Both had been at Roissy for over a year. Binh’s mother was Vietnamese, her mother being the daughter of refugees who had come to France after the disaster at Din Bihn Phi. Her father was French, while little Quy was full blooded Vietnamese. The two were often taken for sisters, although upon a closer look, they were not all that similar

One of them said in her sing song voice, “I am Quy, other girl is Binh. Time to get up. You no be a lay a bed whore. Time go to work. Kitchen floor need mopping. Hammer Ong take you squat. Then we mop.”

Verona blinked, uncomprehending. She said, “I don’t understand.”

Then the other Vietnamese girl spoke in slightly better French. “Hammer Ong will take you to the toilet area, then we you will help us mop the kitchen, then later we will dress you, and you will report to your duty in the library.”

Now, Verona remembered what she had been told last night. She thought to herself, “I remember one of the men telling me that I would do domestic duties while here at Roissy, nothing too strenuous – light housekeeping, sweeping, dusting and such- but my main duty was to be available to anyone, a Master or a guest at any time.” To Binh she said, “Okay. But who is this Hammer Ong?”

Before Binh could answer, Quy giggled, jerked a thumb at the giant man standing behind her and said, “This Hammer Ong. He take you to squat.” Again, Verona cast a confused look. Binh spoke, “In our language, the word for man is ‘nguoi dan ong,’ literally ‘human man.’ The valet’s name is Charles Martel. The Masters call him Charles the Hammer after some famous French king, but we call him Hammer Ong because he has a member like a hammer. Quy giggled again, and the valet smiled broadly and grabbed at his crotch, saying, “I’ll show you later. But now, it’s time for you to go to the toilet. Come on, let’s go.”

With Binh and Quy following them, Charles the Hammer led Verona down a hallway to the same bathing and toilet area where she had been the previous night. Again, she squatted over the Turkish toilet and saw herself exposed in the mirrors that lined the area. She tried not to watch as an infinity of images of her emptied her bladder reflected in the mirrors. Quy giggled again, “You sure pee a lot.”

Afterwards, the valet escorted the three women, Verona still naked, to the kitchen. There Binh went to a closet and selected three mops. She gave one to Verona and said, “After we mop the floor, we’ll go back to your room and get you dressed for your shift in the library.”

The four then crowded with others in the hallway just in time to see James pulling a slender woman with hair the colour of dirty snow down the hallway. Her hands were bound behind her. Verona saw he was pulling her on a leash and the leash was attached to a large ring that pierced the woman’s labia. Then Quy whispered again to Verona, “That Dani. Etienne’s new slave. She also got her cervix pierced like Julienne his other slave. Don’t think I’d like that. What about you?”

Verona whispered back, “Of course not. That’s barbaric!” Of course, little Quy didn’t know that Verona had done a segment on Julienne having her cervix pierced for her show, ‘Discovery with Verona,’ a segment that drew an extraordinary number of viewers to Arte Television.

Charles Martel heard the girls whispering and said, “Hush! Or else.”

Now Verona thought to herself, “It really is barbaric, and of course, I would never want it done to me, Nor would I want my labia pierced and be led on a leash attached it the ring. But I have to admit it is a quite erotic thing to see.”

After James and Dani passed by, Charles Martel said, “Come on now. Show’s over. You have to get dressed so you can help mop the kitchen floor.”

And in the two chairs in front of the dais, Ari leaned over to Margareta and said, “Is this turning you on? I find it quite erotic, watching this poor whore being whipped like this.” Margareta didn’t answer but felt a quiver in her own loins.

Now Zoe concentrated the whip blows on Dani’s sex. Dani knew it was red and swollen already. She cried some more, screaming, “For God’s sake, stop! I beg of you. If only for a moment. Please!”

Little beads of sweat appeared on Zoe’s naked body from the exertion of wielding the whip. Then Dani heard Etienne say, “Zoe, stop for a moment and caress Dani’s sex again. But don’t let her come from your caress, just get her close. Then flog her some more.”

Zoe did as she was bidden, pushing the inner lips to the side and running her finger around Dani’s erect clitoris, kissing and sucking, making Dani moan some more, before resuming the flogging. Dani’s consciousness melted into a hazy combination of pleasure and pain. In the chair in front of the dais, Margareta felt her own sex melting.

After ten minutes, Dani was a blubbering mess. A blow hit just above her clitoris, on the hood which was now pulled back. Dani groaned. Then in quick succession two blows landed directly on her exposed clitoris. Her entire body convulsed.

Etienne said, “That’s enough now, Zoe. You may stop.” And Ari leaned over to Margareta and said, “Her previous Master was correct. Unlike my Doutzen, this whore can actually come from being flogged.

Dani did not answer, and Etienne continued, “Probably not since you were hooded. But I brought you by there table and we spoke about you. I invited them to watch you being punished. I hope that is alright.” He paused, then, “Oh! And Zoe. Zoe will administer the flogging. But first she will caress, kiss, and tongue you. Not enough to allow you to come, of course, but enough to make you ache for that release. Todd told me that he thought you might reach orgasm from being flogged. We’ll see f that is true.” Then turning to Ari and Margareta, he continued, “I’m sure you would be interested in knowing that.”

When Ari spoke, Dani immediately recognized his voice from the night before in the bar. “Yes. I often had Doutzen flogged on her cunt, but I don’t think she was ever able to come from it.”

“Well, we’ll see if Dani can,” said Etienne. Then, “Zoe, please begin to kiss Dani.”

Zoe kissed Dani on the mouth, softly at first, then deeper. So deeply that Dani had to gasp for breath. Then Zoe’s lips moved to Dani’s breasts, gently sucking and biting at her already erect nipples. Dani couldn’t suppress a soft moan. She heard the man called Ari’s voice say, “Margareta, would you too like to kiss and caress her? Go ahead. Etienne won’t mind.” As Zoe continued to attend to Dani’s breasts with her mouth, her hand slid down Dani’s belly to her waiting, open sex. Dani felt fingers on her clitoris, already emerging from its protective sheath. She moaned again as the woman called Margareta kissed her softly on the lips.

Dani’s hips began to roll involuntarily. She moaned again. She was very close when she heard Etienne say, “That’s enough. Step back, Zoe.” He came to Dani’s face and said, “Dani, tell these people what comes next.”

Dani too a deep breath and said, “I’m to be flogged.”

“How and where?” asked Etienne. Dani didn’t answer. Etienne said, “Tell us how you are to be flogged. Say, ‘I’m to be flogged on my pussy,’ then tell u show that will make you feel. Say it now.”

Dani finally said, “I am to be flogged on my pussy to remind me that I am a slave. Nothing more than a slave.”

As Dani said this, Zoe stood astride her. Dani could see the tassels of the whip between Zoe’s legs. She heard Etienne say, “Begin now, Zoe.”

She was aroused. Her nipples were stiff and hard, and not just from the cool morning air of the dungeon. She was wet and knew it. “Dear God! I’m probably dripping,” she thought to herself. “Why am I like this? The thought of humiliation, pain and torture turns me on, especially if it is prolonged and harsh. I guess Todd was right when he told Etienne that I was a regular pain slut.” Dani tried to move a bit to ease the strain on her shoulders. Instead, a sharp pain shot down her arm. She winced. “But it’s not just any pain that turned me on. It has to be sexually oriented and be humiliating. I know that later this morning, I will be taken to what they call the whipping room. I’ll be led there on this leash attached to my pierced sex. It’ll be humiliating for me, but also arousing. Then I’ll be tied down with my legs raised and spread for everyone to see. And then I’ll be beaten. Whipped between my widespread thighs. Whipped on my sex. It’ll hurt terribly, I’ll cry and beg for it to stop. And yet, on some level, I won’t want it to. God help me, I desire it. The humiliation! The pain! What type of woman am I?”

Dani thought back to her former life before Etienne brought her to Roissy, back to southern California. There she had been the property of a man named Todd. She had met Todd after coming to Los Angeles from Kansas with dreams of becoming a Hollywood star. Of course, those dreams weren’t realized. Instead, Dani discovered a world of drugs and ended up starring in pornographic films that Todd produced. After Todd enslaved Dani, he eventually tired of her and gave her to Etienne. But before he did, Todd had taken a new girlfriend, Ginger - a woman with whom Dani had done lesbian BDSM porn. Todd had Ginger tattoo ‘Slave for Love’ on Dani’s right buttocks and his initials on her left – a tattoo that looked like a brand. Todd also had Ginger beat and flog Dani. Once as Dani was bound on the bed and Ginger had been flogging her, she said to the bound woman, “You are such a slut! I swear, you enjoy being beaten. It looks as if you’re about to come when I flog your pussy!”

Now, bound in the Roissy dungeon, about to be led to another whipping, Dani thought to herself, “Was Ginger right?”

A Saturday Night at Roissy: Part Four

As Margareta watched Zoe, naked and on her knees, caressing Ari’s member with her ardent mouth in one of the suites in the hotel wing of Chateau Roissy, poor Dani was having an entirely different type of experience in the dungeon of the Chateau. After displaying her in the bar area of the Chateau, Etienne had told James, the valet, to bring her to the dungeon where he would be waiting. Saying this, Etienne handed the leash which was attached to the heavy metal ring piercing Dani’s labia to James.

James led the hooded woman from the bar and down a long hallway, the only sound was the click clack of the wooden mules Dani wore on her feet. Dani may have wanted to say something, but inside the hood which covered her face and eyes, a penis shaped gag was secured in her mouth, preventing her from speaking. Suddenly, she felt the tension on the leash go slack and heard James say, “Here we are at the entrance to the dungeon. There will be steps I will take your arm to guide you down them.” Then Dani heard the creak of a heavy door being opened.

“Here is a step,” said James. He took one hand and placed it on Dani’s waist to guide her. The other hand grasped Dani’s hands which were secured behind her using the leather bracelets that every Roissy slave wore on their wrists. This same hand of James’s held the loop at the end of the leash connected to Dani’s sex. She thought to herself, “I can feel the leash that leads me around as if I were an animal. The leash that is connected to the ring that pierced my sex, one of the symbols of my abject slavery. How on earth did I ever end up this way?”

With thoughts like that in her head, Dani descended the 39 steps to her Fate.

++++

At the bottom of the steps, James led Dani into a small vestibule. Etienne was already there sitting on a leather covered sofa. Dani heard her Owner say, “Have her kneel and remove the hood and gag. I want to see her face now.” James did as he was bid. Dani blinked in the dim light of the dungeon, the first light she had seen in several hours and gasped as the large gag was removed, causing drool to run from her mouth and drip onto her breasts. She noticed Etienne approaching. He was wearing a robe which was not closed and flared open as he walked, revealing his semi erect member.

Etienne said, “In a bit I’ll have James flog you. And, of course, you’re to be whipped in the morning, but now I want you to caress me with your mouth.” Saying this he pushed his member towards Dani’s mouth. She took it without protest, kissing, sucking, and twirling her tongue around its tip. Soon it was fully erect, filling Dani’s mouth. She felt Etienne’s hands grasp her hair, her hair, the color of dirty snow. He thrust into her, forcing her tongue to the back of her throat and nearly gagging her.

It didn’t take Etienne long to come.

++++

James pulled Dani up by grasping her hands bound behind her. With spittle and seen dripping from her mouth, she felt her hands being raised. She heard the sound of a chain hanging from a rafter in the vestibule being attached to the rings in the bracelets on her wrists. She felt the pressure of the chain as it was being pulled taut, raising her arms in a most uncomfortable way. She was forced forward, half leaning, causing her breasts to hang down. Her shoulders ached. Etienne grabbed both nipples, squeezing them, and said, “It’s painful, isn’t it?” After you’re flogged, you’ll spend the rest of the night like this -arms raised behind your back. I would imagine you’ll be too uncomfortable to get any sleep, so you can just think about the whipping you’ll receive in the morning. But for now…” Etienne’s voice trailed off. He nodded at James who held the riding crop in his hand. Dani heard the swish -the sound a crop makes- and felt a terrible burning on her buttocks.

++++

Upstairs Ari snored, but Margareta couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts kept going back to the hooded woman she had seen in the bar earlier that night.

Anne Marie replied, “So I noticed. Collette and Claudia will begin preparing her for her presentation.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “I see she has the same cameraman, but her producer is different. Can you tell me why that is? I thought Verona and Mathilde were lovers as well as work colleagues. Did they have some sort of falling out?”

Gaspar replied, “No. Not really. Mathilde, Verona’s regular producer, had a very severe bout of Covid. She is nearly recovered, but James F. thought it best to have another woman do the producing on this series.”

“I saw her get out of the van. I would hardly call her a woman. More like a teenage girl.”

Gaspar laughed. “She does look young. I guess those Norwegian girls age well.” Then he continued, “Her name is Frida. I do not know the complete story. James F. seems to think highly of her. He said she came from Oslo to Paris to study at the Sorbonne and then got interested in media. She is probably smart, and she is certainly quite stunning. Platinum hair, crystal blue eyes, and a splendid figure. Although Verona is quite comely, I wish it were Frida we were training.”

One of the men explained to Verona that this was how it would always be, for as long as she was in the Château, she might see the faces of those who violated or tormented her, but never at night, and she would never know which ones had been responsible for the worst. He went on to say that this was how every woman brought to the Chateau was treated. Usually, the same would be true when she was whipped, except that tonight they wanted her to see herself being whipped, and so this once she would not be blindfolded. This is why they had donned masks, so that she would not be able to recognize them.

One of the masked men helped Verona to her feet and made her sit down on the arm of an easy chair near the fire, so that she could hear what they had to tell her and see what they wanted to show her. Her hands were still fastened behind her back. He showed her the riding crop, which was long, black, and delicate, made of thin bamboo encased in leather, a leather whip, which the first man she had seen after she was prepared and sitting on the ottoman had been carrying in his belt. It was long and consisted of six lashes knotted at the end. Then there was a third whip of fairly thin cords, each with several knots at the end. These cords were quite stiff, as they had been soaked in water and left to dry. One of the men caressed Verona with this whip and nudged open her thighs, so that she could feel how stiff and damp the cords were against the tender, inner skin of her thighs and sex. She shuddered as he did this.

Along one entire wall of the library, halfway between floor and ceiling, ran a gallery which was supported by two columns. A hook was imbedded in one of them, just high enough for a man standing on tiptoe, with his arms stretched above his head, to reach. A man told Verona, supporting her shoulders with one hand, and the other in the furrow of her sex, which was burning so she could hardly bear it, that her that her hands would be untied, but only so that they could be fastened anew to the column, using these same bracelets and a short length of chain. As he removed her cape by unfastening it from the leather collar she wore around her neck, he said that, with the exception of her hands, which would be secured just above her head, she would be able to move slightly and see the blows coming. “We want you to be able to see yourself being flogged,” he said.

He went on to say that she would be whipped on her thighs and buttocks, in other words the same region which had been prepared in the car that had brought her here, when she had been made to sit with her naked rear on the seat. “However,” he said, “in all likelihood one of the four men would want to mark your thighs with the riding crop, which makes lovely long deep welts which last a long time.” He went on to say, “You will not have to endure all this at once; there will be ample time for you to scream, to struggle, and to cry. We will grant you some respite, but as soon as you catch your breath we will start in again. We will judge our results not from your screams or tears but from the size and colour of the welts raised. This method of judging the effectiveness of the whip makes it pointless for you to exaggerate your suffering to arouse pity. We may also resort to the same measures beyond the château walls, outdoors in the Chateau’s grounds or in another room within the Chateau.”

“We could gag you, but there is no question of using it that night. On the contrary, we want to hear you beg, scream and cry, and the sooner the better.” Verona told herself that she would not give the men the pleasure of seeing her cry, but the pride she mustered to resist and remain silent did not last long. After only a few well-placed blows, the men heard her beg them to untie her, to stop for a second, just for a second. Verona writhed, trying to escape the bite of the lashes; she turned almost completely around. As a result, her belly and the front of her thighs were as marked as her backside. Verona felt as if she could not bear it; could not bear the pain coupled with the humiliation at being used by four unknown men. And yet, she endured it to the bitter end.

Finally, they untied the young woman, she staggered and almost fainted, as she collapsed on the marble floor.

“Turn her around, so we can see her breasts and sex.”

Hands turned Verona around, and the heat of the fire was against her back. A hand seized one of her breasts, a mouth fastened on the tip of the other. Suddenly Verona lost her balance and almost fell backward, but someone caught her. Then her legs were opened, and her lower lips gently spread. She thought – no expected that – she might be fondled, but no. Instead, she heard them saying that they would have to make her kneel down. This they did. She was extremely uncomfortable in this position, especially because they forbade her to bring her knees together and because her arms pinioned behind her forced her to lean forward.

A voice asked, “You’ve never been tied up like this? Not by any of your lovers?”

“No, never,” answered Verona, summoning all the courage she could muster.

"And you’ve never been whipped?”

Terrified at the thought, Verona did not answer.

“Answer me,” said a voice in a firm manner.

“No,” Verona finally stuttered.

“But you have fantasized about it. Fantasized about being bound and whipped.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.

Verona said nothing. Then she felt a hand grab at her sex and a finger being thrust into her. A voice – another voice from the one questioning her- said, “No need to answer. She’s wet already!”

Verona felt flushed behind her blindfold as she heard several voices laughing.

“As a matter of fact,” the first voice went on, “if you are tied up from time to time, or whipped just a little, and you begin to like it, that’s no good either. You have to get past the pleasure stage, until you reach the stage of tears. And eventually you will grow to desire that also.”

Then they made Verona get up and someone said that he wanted to take her right then and there. So, they made her kneel down again, this time across an ottoman, with her hands still tied behind her, so that her hips were higher than her torso. Then one of the men, holding her with both his hands on her hips, plunged into her. It did not take him long. He yielded to a second. Another wanted to force his way into Verona’s rear passage and, driving hard, made her scream, “No! No! It hurts! Please no!”. But the man did not stop until he reached his pleasure in her. When he let her go, she was sobbing and befouled by tears beneath her blindfold. She slipped to the floor, only to feel someone’s knees against her face, hands pulling her head and a voice saying, “Open up. Caress me with your mouth.”

And Verona did.

As Verona was being prepared a conversation was taking place in Anne Marie’s office. Anne Marie was seated at her desk with little Yvette, her current ‘girl’ sitting on the floor near her. Frida, the platinum haired Norwegian production assistant that James F. head of Arte Television had sent with Verona and Jacques, her long-time cameraman, to Roissy, was pleading with Anne Marie. “How can I possibly produce this series if I cannot accompany Verona to everywhere she is taken in this place? I need to be with Jacques when he is filming Verona being presented tonight!”

Anne Marie answered politely but firmly, “Young lady, I cannot permit it. The Masters would not permit it. Besides, Roissy has literally centuries of protocols and practices. Other than Masters and slaves, no one is permitted in the library when a new girl is presented. You and your people are quite fortunate that a man is being allowed to film it. That in itself is very rare!” Then Anne Marie’s voice softened a bit, “You may be able to talk with Verona later after she is taken to her cell. Perhaps she can relay her experiences to you at that time. I would think that then you might begin putting together how you will produce this segment.” Then, smiling, she continued, “Besides, having a young woman as beautiful as you are present during Verona’s ‘initiation’ might prove to be a distraction to the Masters. I’m sure both you and Verona want their full attention on her tonight. You know, for your program’s authenticity.”

This seemed to mollify Frida. “Well, I guess so. So long as Jacques can film whatever is happening to Verona tonight.”

“Oh yes. Gaspar has approved it.” Anne Marie paused, then, “And while all that is happening, why don’t you have supper with me and Yvette here. We can chat and get to know each other a little better.”

“Well, okay, I guess,” replied Frida.

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.”

“A television personality? Who?” asked Margareta.

Etienne answered, “Verona F., the hostess for ‘Discovery with Verona.’ It’s part of some plan, Gaspar and Anne Marie cooked up as a way for Roissy to make several hundred thousand Euros.”

“Personally, I think the girl just wants an excuse to be fucked and beaten,” said old Cyril.

“Well, that is certainly true in some cases,” replied Ari. “Most women want that from time to time. Don’t you agree, Margareta?”

Margareta, still trying to regain some composure, replied, “Perhaps. Perhaps the former, but I doubt many want to be beaten.”

“Well, it is certainly true for this,’ said Etienne, tugging on the leash. “In fact, this craves pain more than it craves sex.” Then he leaned over and said in a theatrical whisper to the hooded woman, “I know you cannot speak, but nod your head if you agree.” Several moments passed with no movement from the hooded woman. Etienne said in a louder voice, “I asked you a question. Respond if you know what is good for you!”

Now, the woman’s head bobbed up and down. Etienne laughed and said, “Being somewhat stubborn is just its way of asking for a beating. In fact, it can come from just being beaten.” Then, looking at Margareta he said, “Why don’t you come watch it being whipped in the morning? The way disobedient slaves are whipped. We’ll see if it comes from that. I promise it will be quite a show.”

Margareta looked at Ari and said, “I don’t think that is possible. I must get back home tonight.”

Ari said, “We could stay over. It sounds like it would be quite amusing. I remember watching Doutzen being whipped in that way. I do not think she came from it, but I almost did.” He laughed, then, “Why don’t we stay over. We can go back after breakfast. Rudy is out of the country and would never know.”

Margareta sighed and said, “Okay.”

If You want to read more about Verona’s first visit to Roissy, You can scroll back to posts from the fall of 2018. Her second visit about Julienne having her cervix pierced was in the fall of the following year. Or You might click on th efollowing: #verona, #julienne.

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.

While Verona drifted off into an uneasy slumber, another scene was playing out in the bar in the public area of Chateau Roissy. Earlier that night Ari had brought Margareta, his friend’s wife and Ari’s sometime lover, for dinner at the Chateau. “After all, it’s one of the better restaurants in France,” Ari had said when he suggested it to Margareta. “And with your husband away on business, no one need know that we went there.” Margareta had replied, “I’m not sure Rudy would care. He said he had to go to Venezuela to heck on some oil contracts, but I am sure he’ll find some whore house along the way.”

After a four-course meal, with Lobster as the main course, was finished, Ari suggested they go to the bar for drinks. Several drinks later, old fat Cyril, one of the Senior Masters at Roissy, joined them. Cyril, as was his custom, was already half drunk. He said, “Oh Margareta, it is indeed a pleasure to see you here at Roissy again. It’s been months and months since I’ve seen you. Did Ari show you the new acquisitions yet?”

Margareta thought about ignoring the drunkard’s question, but did not want to appear rude, so she replied, “New acquisitions? Whatever on earth do you mean?”

“Well, since you have last been here, there are several new slaves. Some quite interesting.” He paused, looking around the room, then spying Etienne across the way, he called to him, “Etienne! Good fellow! Do please come join us and bring your new creature.”

Now Margareta looked across the room and saw a rather tall man in his early thirties. But what startled her was what was at the end of a dog leash, the man had in his hand. It was a woman – completely naked save for high heels, leather bracelets on her wrists and ankles, and a leather collar around her neck. And her face and head were completely covered by a leather hood, obscuring every feature – even her eyes. The man tugged on the leash and said, “Come along, slave.” As they approached the table Margareta noticed the leash was attached to a large ring that pierced the woman’s sex.

Ari pushed out a chair from the table and said, “Etienne, it has been a while. Please join us.” The man named Etienne sat down and said to the woman on the leash, “Sit, slave.” Margareta noticed the woman dropped to her knees beside the chair where Etienne was sitting. Cyril beamed and said, “So well trained. Now Etienne, do tell us about… uh, what is her name?” Etienne smiled and said, “It has no name now. So, I just call it slave. Once upon a time its name was Dani, at least that is the name that the man who gave it to me called her.”

Now, Ari spoke, “Is this not Julienne? I know that at one time you two were lovers. And I remember some talk about you having her cervix pierced with a small ring.”

“Yes, indeed. Julienne and I were lovers. And she agreed to have her cervix pierced for me. I got the idea when I saw a slave in California whose cervix was pierced. But when that quack Cerrano, he shouldn’t even call himself a doctor, botched the piercing Julienne got an infection and nearly died. And then as she was recovering, he caught Covid. I’m afraid she is still not well enough for heavy use. So, in the meantime, I amuse myself with this,” nodding to the kneeling woman beside him. “You see its cervix is also pierced, but I use the larger ring in its labia for the leash, so as to not tear the cervix.”

“Really?” said Margareta, dumbfounded.

“Certainly,” replied Etienne. Then, “Stand up, slave, so that these fine people can see you.”

The woman stood. Margareta, who had already consumed three after dinner drinks and was a little tipsy, looked closely. A rather thick ring pierced the slave’s right inner labia and was attached to the dog leash. But Margareta also saw a small chain hanging down from the woman’s vulva. Etienne said, “The other end of the chain is attached to the ring that pierces the entrance to her cervix. Go ahead, pull on the chain.” Margareta recoiled in horror, but Ari said to her, “Go ahead. Do it.” So, Margareta reached over, grasped the small chain in her hand and tentatively tugged at it. The woman behind the mask didn’t utter a sound but winced in pain.

Margareta quickly drew her hand back. “She didn’t utter a sound! But it must have hurt.”

“Oh, I’m sure it did,” replied Etienne. “But she cannot speak or cry out. You see, I have put a large penis shaped gag in her mouth. It silences all but the most extreme groans, especially when she is hooded.”

Margareta was horrified, but also aroused. “Horrible, but somewhat erotic. Basically, blind and mute?”

“Yes, all she recognizes is pain and submission.”

With these thoughts swirling in her head, Verona again instinctively sought to move her hands down to her sex. The distinctive ‘clink’ of the chain preventing her from doing so startled her somewhat. Her thoughts returned, “Dear God, I am so turned on. Even though that old peasant of a valet, fingering me was humiliating, it was arousing. I just wish he had masturbated me to orgasm. I wish he had continued to finger me while he was telling me about what will happen to me here at Roissy.” Verona thought she might try to cross her legs or rub them together in order to produce an orgasm, but of course that was not possible. “He was right of course. I am no longer mistress of my body. Here I am, chained to the bed with mu hands bound close to my neck. Chained naked. Available to anyone who might unlock the door and come to me. Open and available to anyone. Anyone, except myself.” Unable to think of anything else, but her own desire and inability to do anything about it, Verona finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Pierre opened the door to the room and entered. He said, “Anne Marie said you might have some time for a quick interview with this one,” nodding to Verona. “But now it’s time for me to put her to bed.” He paused, then added with a chuckle, “She will need her beauty sleep.”

Hearing this, Frida looked onto Verona’s face with a quizzical look. Verona said, “It’s okay.” Then Frida and Jacques left the room and went into the hallway where another valet, Albert, was waiting. He said, “Follow me. I will show you to your respective rooms in the hotel wing of the Chateau.”

Meanwhile, Pierre shut the door and considered Verona who was still sitting on the bed. He said, “Please lie down. I must chain you to your bed tonight and every night you are here.” Then he bent over and took both of Verona’s ankles in his bear paw like left hand and lifted them as he pushed down her shoulder with his right. Once Verona was prone on the bed, he pulled her hands together and using the rings set in the leather bracelets and a small clip, secured her wrists together. Using the other end of the clip, Pierre attached it to the ring that was set in the leather collar around Verona’s neck. Then, he took a length of chain -one end of which was looped around an eye bolt set in the stone wall above the bed -and attached it to the same ring in the leather collar. Thus, Verona’s hands were just below her neck as if she were praying.

Pierre looked at Verona and said, “You’re chained this way so that you cannot touch yourself. It’s a reminder that you are no longer mistress of your body. It belongs to the Society now and will as long as you are here at the Chateau.” He paused, then added, “The slaves who have their sex pierced also have a chain attached to the ring that pierces them there. Not so much top secure them as to remind them of their status as chattel.”

Verona looked at the valet but didn’t speak. Pierre placed a rough hand on her ankle just above the leather bracelet there and continued, “I have served the Society for almost forty years as did my father before me. Indeed, being a valet here is the only job I have ever had except for the time I was in the French Army. I have seen literally hundreds of women come here. Some just as ‘free’ prostitutes; others brought by their lovers to prove their devotion to them. And even a few who, I think, just wanted to prove to themselves tat they could ‘take it,’ so to speak.” Pierre pushed Verona’s legs apart but continued to talk. “A very few were homely, and a few were what one might call beautiful, I mean after all, there have been a few models and even movie stars who have come here.” Pierre ran his rough hands up Verona’s thighs, pushing her legs apart even further. Instinctively, Verona moved her hands as if to stop him, but was unable to do so because of the chains. Piere continued, “Most of the women who came here were what I would say were comely, like you.” Saying this, Pierre thrust two fingers into Verona’s sex. She gasped and flinched. ‘But I must say, you are the first television personality I have seen here.” He massaged her sex a little and ran his thumb over Verona’s clitoris, causing it to rise from its protective sheath. “Oh, what do we have here?” said Pierre. And then he stopped and withdrew his fingers and stood by the bed.

Looking down at Verona, he said, “Now, all you will be able to think of is that a man of low estate, a peasant really, just fingered you and you could not stop him. Perhaps you would now like to masturbate, but the chains binding you prevent it.” He turned to go, and as he did, he said over his shoulder, “In several hours before dawn when it is darkest, another valet will come into this room. He will haul you up with the chain and flog you. And there is nothing you will be able to do to prevent it.”

Pierre then turned out the light, and after he closed the door, Verona heard it being locked from the outside, leaving her alone, chained in the darkness.

As Jacques set up his equipment, Frida, who had never been to Roissy, indeed did not know of its existence, having only heard rumors and gossip of a place where women went to submit themselves to sexual slavery to please their lovers, marveled at the immense size and grandeur of the Chateau’s exterior.

Anne Marie noticed Frida right away, her platinum-colored hair catching the waning light of late afternoon. She turned little Yvette beside her and said, “Evidently, Verona has a new producer. That is not the woman named Mathilde, who acted as her producer on the previous two trips here.” She considered the slender young woman and continued, “She looks younger and less experienced. I wonder if Verona and Mathilde had a falling out. They were lovers as well as work colleagues, you know.”

Yvette replied, “She is quite pretty, though. Don’t you agree, Mistress?”

Meanwhile the large Citroen carrying Verona pulled up. Two men emerged from the back of the car, then Verona. One of the men pushed Verona against the side of the car and pulled her hands behind her so the other man might tie her wrists together with a silk tie. Verona didn’t protest. Then Anne Marie noticed him run his hands up Verona’s thighs and push into her sex. Anne Marie saw Verona flinch and let out a small cry. Both men laughed. Anne Marie said to little Yvette, “Eric always has been impatient.” The other man – it was Gaspar – said, “Now Verona, see that woman with the dark hair standing in front of the doorway? I want you to walk to her. She will take you inside and tell you what do next.”

As Verona walked to the woman in the late afternoon light, she felt he gravel crunch beneath her feet. She thought to herself, “Here I am, hands bound behind my back, walking towards… What?”

And from a short distance away, Frida said to Jacques the cameraman, “Oh my, I do hope you got that on film. This afternoon light is so very perfect!”

The van pulled through the main gate on the road that led to Chateau Roissy, on the grounds of the estate proper, but still about a kilometer and a half from the main buildings. Verona noticed the lack of the van’s movement, but with the blindfold covering her eyes, she could not see why the van had stopped. Momentarily, Verona heard the van’s door slide open. Then she heard a voice say, “Ms. Feldbush, would you come with me?” Then Verona felt a hand on her arm, pulling her from her seat in the van.

With the assistance of unseen hands, Verona was helped from the van. Then she heard the voice say, “Charles, would you please take the cameraman and the production assistant to the drive in front of the Chateau. There the cameraman may set up to record Ms. Feldbush’s entrance into the Chateau.” Verona heard another voice, presumably that of the driver, whose name she deduced was Charles, say, Yes Sir.” Then she heard the van drive away.

Verona felt the unseen hand guide her several steps and heard the voice say, “Now you will get into the back of a car. Please duck your head.” Verona was seated in a car and felt the presence of someone beside her. Then she felt someone else sit beside her. The voice said, “You have expressed the desire to see what it is like to be a slave of Roissy. In order for you to have the full experience, you will be brought to the Chateau as if you were the lover of a Roissy Master. Isn’t this true?”

Verona swallowed hard and said, “Yes, I guess so.”

The voice went on, “I am going to remove your blindfold, but please look straight ahead. Do not look at me or the other man beside you. Understand?”

“Yes,” responded Verona. Then the blindfold was removed. Verona noticed that she was sitting in the backseat of a large Citroen, but she stared straight ahead and noticed a reflection in the rear-view mirror of the two men sitting beside her as well as the driver, whose face was obscured by large sunglasses. Verona did not recognize either man, but she thought she had seen one of them speaking with James F., the owner of Arte Television previously. The voice beside her continued, “All women coming to Roissy must do so without wearing anything beneath their outer clothing. Do you know what this means?”

Verona was silent and the voice continued, “It means you must remove your panties. Please sit up on the seat and slide them off.”

Verona lifted her slender hips, slid her hands up under her skirt, hooked her thumbs under the top of her bikini panties and slide them down to her ankles. Then she held them in front of herself where the hands of the man sitting to the right of her took them. The voice then said, “Make sure your bare bottom is against the seat. You should become used to the feel of leather on your rear.” Then she felt a hand on her breast, and the voice said, “Splendid! You’re not wearing a bra.” Then Verona felt the fingers tease her nipple, already erect beneath her blouse.”

Then Verona felt the car stop. “Well, here we are,” said the voice. Verona looked out of the car window and saw a somewhat familiar sight – the main entrance to Roissy Chateau.

Marloes was on duty in the library with Therese and Jeanne, who had only just been returned to Roissy a couple of weeks ago after being away for over a year and a half. Marloes rather liked Jeanne. She was petite with curly brownish hair and a pleasant face. Plus, like Marloes, she had a dry sense of humor. Both girls thought many of the rules for Roissy slaves were foolish but abided by them. Jeanne because she loved her Master who had returned her to Roissy and Marloes because she really had no other choice. “And,” thought Marloes, “the Masters really don’t expect us to do a lot of hard work – tending tables in the restaurant, making sure there is a fire going in the library, light housekeeping, that sort of thing. But the main thing, in fact the only thing, that is expected of us is to be constantly available for use by a Master or a ‘customer.’ And I have been getting used since I was fifteen.”

Presently Marloes was standing next to Gaspar, an older Master, who was seated in an over-stuffed chair by the window. She and the other two women had on the typical Roissy uniform – a dress that was tight at the waist, but flared at the hips with slits up the sides so that it could be rolled up in front to reveal a girl’s sex or in the rear so that her buttocks was visible. The waist had a sort of built in corset, constricting the waist and pushing the breasts up and out. It was cut so that the nipples were clearly visible but covered by some sort of semi-transparent material. Therese’s dress was aqua in color; Jeanne’s a pale blue; and Marloes’ a lavender. Marloes noticed that Therese’s was rolled up in back to reveal three red stripes where she had been flogged earlier. When Jeanne had earlier noticed them, she had dryly remarked, “Nice stripes. Someone knew what they were doing.”

Therese had replied, “It was James. The bastard flogged me for looking a Master in the eye.”

“Ah, that James. He can be a mean one. Perhaps one of the crueler valets,” said Jeanne.

A Master whose name Marloes didn’t know had been reading a newspaper when he noticed Therese bending over to sweep up ashes by the fireplace. The red stripes on her rear must have caught his eye. He got up from his chair and told Therese to get on her hands and knees over a nearby ottoman. Then he turned to Jeanne and said, “Undo my trousers. Get me hard.” Jeanne knelt before him. Marloes noticed Jeanne’s tiny hands unbuttoning the Master’s trousers and bringing out his already semi-erect member. She watched those same hands working the length of his member. All the while, Therese patiently awaiting, bent over the ottoman with her rear higher than her torso. Marloes then watched as he plunged into Therese’s sex in short, quick spasms. She heard Therese utter a low moan.

Gaspar watched, then grabbed Marloes and pulled her across his lap. Marloes felt her dress being pulled up, exposing her rear. She expected Gaspar to fondle her sex, but instead felt his fingers circling her anus. Then she felt one of them penetrate her. She gasped and heard Gaspar say to no one in particular, “Why, this bitch is entirely to tight. Just what have Rene and Sutton brought us? We will have to do something about it.”

And he kept Marloes bent across his knee, impaled by his finger as they both watched the unknown Master empty himself into Therese.

A short time later little Yvette, Anne Marie’s current ‘favourite,’ appeared. In her hand she held two items: one that looked like an oversize knitting needle and a hole punch – the kind a shoemaker might use on leather. She said, “Mistress, I was afraid the big needle might not work, so I also brought the hole punch just in case. Is that okay?”

Anne Marie smiled and said, “You did good, little one.” Then taking the needle which was about 20 centimetres in length and with a diameter as large as the lead in one of those oversize pencils like children use, she sat on the bed near where Jeanne’s feet were. Then Anne Marie grasped the inner labia that had earlier been pierced so that Jeanne could wear a small decorative piercing. She looked at Jeanne face which showed a combination of fear and apprehension and said, “I have to enlarge the earlier hole that the small piercing made. I am afraid this will hurt. Much more so than it did when you were originally pierced. She then looked Louis and said, “You should hold Jeanne’s shoulders.” Then looking over her own shoulder, she said to Gaspar and little Yvette, “You two each grab and ankle and make sure she doesn’t struggle too much.”

Anne Marie then placed the needle at the earlier, smaller hole and pressed. As she did so, she said, “Just as I feared. There is some scar tissue around the earlier hole. I’ll have to push the needle so as to tear it and enlarge the hole.” Then she pushed harder.

Jeanne said, “Oh this is dreadful. It’s really hurting.” Involuntarily, she tried to close her legs to escape the pain, but Yvette and Gaspar held her tight. Louis pushed down on her shoulders and said, “Be brave, my darling. It’ll all be over soon.”

Anne Marie was able to get the tip of the needle through, but the scar tissue seemed to prevent the hole from opening further. Yvette looked at her Mistress and said, “That’s why I brought the hole punch. Shall I get it?” Tears were streaming down Jeanne’s cheeks and she was sobbing, “Please stop! It hurts so bad! It really hurts!”

Anne Marie gave the needle one more push and it broke through the scar tissue, enlarging the hole. “There!” she said. “That did it.” Then turning to Yvette, “No need for the hole punch. I was able to push the big needle through. Now go get the box with the ring and medallion.”

One the hole in Jeanne’s labia was enlarged, the rest of the procedure went quickly. Anne Marie inserted the ring with the screw end through the hole in Jeanne’s inner lip, then wound the threaded barrel until it was tight. Gaspar watched and said, “But couldn’t she unscrew it if she were to desire?”

Hearing that, Anne Marie held up a small tube. “Liquid solder.” And she proceeded to squirt some around the base of the threaded barrel. “Once it dries, it is as strong as the metal itself.” Then to Jeanne, “Stand up now. See how it feels to bear the medallion with the Valmount-Waingro crest.”

Louis helped Jeanne stand. Attached to the ring was a small, three-link chain and at its end was the actual medallion - about as large and heavy as a South African Krugerand. On one side was a triskelion with a crossed whip and crop over it. The obverse showed Jeanne’s name in script and below it ‘slave to Valmont-Waingro.’ It hung down almost a third of the way down Jeanne’s thigh. She said, “Oh, it’s heavy. I can feel its weight, especially when I walk. And everyone who sees me naked will notice it. It’s so obvious.”

“As it should be,” said Gaspar. Now anyone – other Masters, valets, and most especially guests of Roissy will see it and know that you are our property.”

And Anne Marie thought to herself, “And I will make sure that a photo of you wearing it is in our guest album along with the notation that, with you, anything goes.”

A Previous Morning at Roissy: Part Two

After meeting with Gaspar concerning his plan for Jeanne, Anne Marie began planning for the quarterly meeting with the Roissy Society’s Personnel and Finance Committee which was scheduled for 10:45 that morning in hopes that old, fat Cyril might still be sober or at least coherent. In addition to Cyril, the other members of the committee were Gaspar, Sir Donald, Reynard, and Raymond, the DGSE spymaster. All were already seated around the conference table when Anne Marie made her entrance. She nodded to Gaspar as if to say, ‘we meet again,’ and strode to the head of the table.

She began, “Gentlemen, it is good to see you on this fine spring morning. And I do mean that it is a fine morning not only due to the blooming flowers, but also because it seems the Covid plague is loosening its grip on France. Accordingly, with your permission, I am proposing that we fully re-open Roissy to guests beginning the first of May.”

Hearing this, old Cyril interrupted, “Reminds me of a ditty I once heard many years ago: Hooray! Hooray! It’s the first of May. Hooray! Hooray! Outdoor fucking starts today!” Then he laughed at his own joke.

Gaspar glared at him and said, “Anne Marie, please continue.”

She continued, “Well, Cyril is correct in a sense. With the Chateau opening completely on May first, I expect we may have some outdoor liaisons when our staff goes back to full strength.”

“And what do you estimate that strength to be?” asked Sir Donald.

“We will bring back all the support staff – cooks, valets, servants, grounds crew that we had furloughed the previous quarter…”

“And the girls? How many?” asked Sir Donald.

“That is more difficult to determine,” responded Anne Marie. “Of course, any Master may bring whomever he wishes at any time. A Master’s slave or a girl seduced into coming by a Master will always be welcomed at Roissy. For example, even during this past quarter when we went to a short staff, slaves Collette, Julienne, and Blaise Marie were housed here along with about a dozen ‘free’ prostitutes.”

“So what numbers are we talking about?” continued Sir Donald, sounding mildly exasperated.

“I would think perhaps two dozen, possibly a couple more. It is really hard to forecast,” said Anne Marie.

“And for a guest to take a girl who is a personal slave and considered property of her Master. That guest is still charged double the rate of what he would pay for one of the free prostitutes. Am I correct?”

“Yes. That is correct. If a girl bears marks indicating she is the property of a Master, she is paid twice the rate of a free prostitute.”

Sir Donald continued, “Then we Masters need to encourage other Masters to bring in girls willing to become personal slaves.”

Old Cyril interrupted again, “Easier said than done.”

“But doable,” responded Gaspar. Take my nephew’s little whore Jeanne for example. She has been here at Roissy several times before. Perhaps some of you may have even sampled her pleasures. But now my nephew and I are planning to turn her into a fully owned slave and marked accordingly. Future guests will be paying twice as much to take her.” Then turning to Cyril, he continued, “You see, old friend, it can be done. One just has to work at it.”

There was a brief silence in the room. Then Anne Marie continued, “Don’t forget. Etienne has returned from California with a girl he wishes to bring here, and Axel, another Master who has been away has his girl Zoe primed to complete her training. So, that is two more who will possibly be earning double, so to speak.”

This seemed to pacify Sir Donald who said, “I think you have done well, Anne Marie. Accordingly, I make amotion that Chateau Roissy fully re-open on May First.”

The motion carried unanimously.