The Way to Paradise-Part 2

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

When we last left our story we had discovered how Jean d’Langham a young country boy from France had joined the French Imperial Army as a naïve and wide-eyed blond seventeen-year-old “to find his fortune”. Posted far from the center of power in Paris the young lad had, at first, been downcast. Soon Jean learned that living on the edges of an empire had its own unusual advantages. Jean was taken under the wing of a certain demanding young woman named Apolline Descartes and educated in the art of pleasure via domination. The story continues with Jean, now a Count, having found his way to the idyllic African tropical paradise of Île de France. The Count looked around his sumptuous and expansive bedchamber and slipped on his chocolate-brown soft kid-leather slippers. His mind wandered to the delicious young Manon who was only a few hundred feet away in the servant’s quarters. He wondered how the stirringly beautiful sixteen-year-old was spending her last evening as a virgin? He was so intrigued by the young beauty he almost wanted to summon her to the house. “Non!” Jean reprimanded himself. All wondrous things in life required patience Jean reminded himself, even the deflowering of virgins. Jean was wearing his special loose cotton pants with a large flap cut in front to release his massive ten-inch cock as and when required. He wore no top to cover his hairless broad rippling chest and strong muscular arms. The Count had oiled his smooth skin and bulging muscles to a high sheen. He admired his own powerful profile in the floor length mirror. His highly defined muscles and veins glowed in the candlelight, the ridges on his abdomen hard and lacking even the slightest amount of fat. Jean smiled in admiration at his own male perfection understanding why young Martine and so many other gorgeous women on the island had become such ardent disciples of his body and his methods. He had no doubt ripe young virgin Manon would happily join his coterie of admiring female supplicants. The Count tried to imagine what kind of dress Manon would wear the next evening for the ball, his cock filling slightly at the thought? He scooped up some delicious African groundnuts from a dish and munched on the delicacy that was brought over by the Somali traders in their tiny crest shaped boats. The nuts were rich in his mouth and he took a final sip of Cognac to wash them down. He then leaned down and blew out his bedchamber candles, darkness enveloping him as his mind returned to the woman he was about to debauch. “Martine, sweet young Martine.” The Count savored her name and savored the upcoming degradation he would inflict on her feeble husband. Jean padded down the smooth grey stone steps in the secret back passage that led from his expansive private bedchamber to his specially constructed basement of pleasure and its elaborate rooms of varied themes. His soft kid-leather slippers made a gentle scrapping sound as they rubbed on the dappled grey stone steps. While he descended the steeply inclined stone stairs Jean rested his hand on the side stonewalls to steady his balance. In the dark depths of the Count’s large grey stone African chateau Madame Pagnol, the young enchantress named “Martine” the exquisitely beautiful eighteen-year-old wife of one of his junior officers was eagerly awaiting her master’s arrival. On Jean’s patiently explained instructions Martine had left her clumsy husband Claude, a mere Sous-Lieutenant (Sub-Lieutenant) in the Troupes de Marine, at home humiliatingly tied by a collar and leash to the to the large wooden matrimonial bed. He had instructed the young Martine that her husband needed to be “trained”. The young wife, despondent at her clodhopper husband’s pathetic performance in the matrimonial bedroom, had proved an eager and spirited recruit to Jean’s devilishly debauched “training” regime. Jean had proved a patient and persuasive tutor to the highly sexed young married beauty after her arrival on the island from France. The lusty young wife’s initial training steps had involved disclosing her infidelity with the Count to her husband. Of course given Jean’s power on the island her husband had no choice but to accept this sad state of affairs. He was despondent to become a cuckold, but what could he do? As beautiful Martine progressed under Jean’s guidance he instructed her to no longer have sex with her husband, as her pussy was now the exclusive property of the Count. Step by step he followed the training program he him self had been taught by his Mistress Apolline. He slowly guided Martine to embrace the total sexual freedom of her own humiliation and submission as his adored special pet. The more that fiery and horny young Martine learned the more she became a zealous disciple. Now in the final stages of training Jean had finally ordered pretty young Martine that on these evenings when they shared their wild sexual dalliances she was required to attach a collar to her husband’s neck and to leash him to their matrimonial bed. By this point Martine’s shock at Jean’s instructions was faux. The first time she performed this taboo task it made her giddy with excitement. Her heart had pounded as she tightened and secured the collar around poor Claude’s neck. Her pussy had tingled as she tied the leash to the bed her husband looking downcast and his eyes sad and averted. Binding her husband’s hands so he could not release himself had made her nipples harden and tingle in anticipation of the Count’s approval. Martine’s orgasms with Jean that first night she tied her husband to the bed had been the most explosive of her young life. The Count’s young charge had then been further instructed by Jean to take further steps when she was leaving their home to sate her sexual needs with Jean. He instructed her to sit before her leashed husband and have a “little talk” with him before she left their junior officer’s quarters to make her now regular visits to his basement. He instructed Martine to inform her husband Claude in very clear and unambiguous terms of exactly “where” she was going and “what” she would be doing with the very well-endowed Count. Jean cautioned the anxious Martine that at first her husband would weep and gnash his teeth and flail about the room and beg her not to go. This was to be expected he advised the young wide-eyed and innocent Martine. “C’est normal.” The flood of pathetic male tears and blood-shot red eyes, the simpering face and red-runny nose, it would all unnerve her, but Jean insisted Martine must remain resolute if the “training” was to be effective. The first few times after subjecting her husband to the new discipline Martine had arrived at his chateau clearly shaken. Jean had always managed to calm her and convince her to continue with her husband’s “training”. It had not taken long and soon young Claude became more and more docile as the Count coached his young avid student Martine in the best techniques to subdue her husband’s weak character to her more dominant will. Having followed the required steps of discipline the young Martine would depart her home giddy and horny in expectation of her sexual deliverance at the rough hands of her new master. Martine’s nubile young body craved to be ravished by the lusting masterful domination of the Count. The way Jean restrained her, slapped her if she were too insolent or demanding, the way his huge cock filled her every cavity to its limit was exhilarating: her mouth, her pussy, her anus all ached for her master. Martine’s entire body tingled in anticipation of the Count’s total domination of her every sense. Soon even the mere sound of Jean’s deep throaty voice could make her pussy cream and her nipples harden in involuntary reaction to his proximity. Pavlov would have been very proud of Jean. After Martine had been completely ravished by the Count, his insatiable cock having turned her pussy and anus red and raw, she would take the Count’s small carriage for the short ride home. The sensual young adulterous wife, her sexy firm young body drained by orgasm followed by orgasm followed by yet another orgasm, her mind numb from domination, would return home to her cowering leashed husband huddled and whimpering next to their matrimonial bed. Imagine the provocative vision the sexy young blond beauty Martine would make as she walked slowly towards her leashed husband Claude after returning from the chateau. Her clothes ripped and torn from the Count’s uncontrollable assault, her body red with welts, her eyes wide and crazed by unending body shaking orgasms; what must her betrothed think? Claude would know that his superior officer had satisfied himself with the taut young ripe body of his wife possessing her completely in ways that he could never match. Could Claude’s humiliation reach any higher heights? Martine would then follow her master’s further orders to complete the “lesson” and deliver her final blow to her husband’s ever diminishing ego. The shapely young slut wife was required to hold her husband in her arms. The poor nervous fellow was, of course, still attached by collar and leash to the bed. Martine would hold her shivering husband in her arms and comfort him with soothing coos and soft sounds of endearment. Then in a very detailed manner Martine would begin her “story”. This was the part of the “training” that Apolline (Jean’s original Mistress) had referred to as “story time” and it was one of Jean’s favorite parts of the ritual and essential to successful humiliation and total submission. Her face radiant the glowing young wife would recount for her husband blow-by-blow, thrust-by- thrust, orgasm-by-orgasm, what Count d’Langham had done to her tight taut young sex-crazed body. Martine would describe in every detail how she had screamed, moaned, almanbahis wailed and how her firm young body had shaken and trembled and convulsed in response to the Count’s talented ministrations. Martine would describe how the Count had satisfied her in multiple ways her husband would never be able to accomplish. Martine would at a certain point of the story describe in graphic detail the massive length and girth of the Count’s copious cock. At this point in the story Martine would cast a sad-eyed look down at her husband’s pitiful skinny appendage flopping flaccidly between his legs and pout, a scornful look covering her countenance. During this “story time” Martine’s husband invariably would get hard. His tiny dick, a thin stubby little thing, would stick up like a humorous joke. If Martine’s pussy happened to be full of the Count’s cum that evening she would then spread her legs and make her husband lick her pussy clean. How she loved watching her pathetic weak husband lap at the creamy cum and swallow the seed of her powerful masculine lover. Claude’s bride would then continue her “story time” and poor Claude, becoming too excited and unable to control himself at a particularly explicit point in the story, would shoot his puny load of thin watery cum. With her husband’s white watery cum dribbled all over her dress, she would jump up and scream, “Look what you’ve done you scum. You’ve made a mess on my dress. Lick it off you useless pig!” Martine’s pathetic contrite husband was terrified of losing her forever and would then meekly beg for forgiveness from his enraged wife as he licked his own seed from her lace frock. Her heart would soar at the sight, pounding in excitement against her tiny female ribcage. Under the Count’s firm hand of discipline Martine had become his ever-adoring plaything, his sex kitten, his sex slave; but here in her own home Martine had become the master, the dominatrix, the “Mistress” and her word was the law. The now very confident young wife would giggle her delicious high-pitched giggles and leave to have a long soothing bath with sandalwood oils softening her skin, their eastern fragrance intoxicating and calming her sex-excited spinning mind. During her languorous scented bath Martine would leave her humiliated husband huddled under a blanket on the floor, curled up like a leashed dog and sometimes sleeping in the puddle of his own sticky cum. Later she would drift off to sleep alone in the matrimonial bed, sated, satisfied and awaiting her next “visit with the Count”. Soon enough (and as Jean had predicted) when pretty Martine applied the collar to her husband’s neck and tied him to the bed with the leash his tiny thin cock would immediately spring up. Poor Claude had been fully conditioned and the application of the collar now equaled sexual release and his own humiliation. Her husband now craved his own degradation and dishonor; he craved his shame and he hungered for his own wife’s domination at the hands of the Count. He was such a failure as a husband; he deserved it after all didn’t he? The Count had become just as much a drug for the addicted Claude as he had become for his sex-crazed young wife. When Martine would dress in her beautiful lace dresses and prepare for a visit to the Count her husband Claude would fall to his knees and beg his wife to tell him what she planned to do that night with her master. She would always giggle her feminine giggles and smile down at her husband’s begging while patting him lovingly on the head as he crawled on the floor around her feet. She would tell Claude he must wait for her return to have his “story time”. Martine now understood that the Count had been correct and the training had been effective. Her husband Claude, poor pathetic small-cocked creature that he was, now looked forward to these special evenings she spent with the Count almost as much as she did or perhaps even more? The “cuckold” Jean explained to Martine was a very special kind of household pet. When properly trained the cuckold could get hard and cum just from the thought of his wife being taken by a dominant male. The Count had by now descended almost to the bottom of the stairs. His manservant, the hunchback Ugolin, would have prepared the room for Jean’s evening enjoyment in every perfect detail. The thing about hunchbacks he thought to himself is that they are very loyal. As Jean reached the thick and heavy wooden door at the foot of the stairs Ugolin was standing off to the side in the recessed portico carved out of the grey stonewall. Ugolin was holding the jangling ring of black iron keys. The Count turned and looked at Ugolin who was rubbing his hands nervously and bowing repeatedly toward Jean as a servant supplicant. He had to agree that Ugolin, while very loyal, was certainly not the most attractive creature on the island. Ugolin’s blackened crooked teeth, his thinning hair and reddish bald patches on his scalp, his stooped posture and curved hunched back and natty worn clothes did not paint a pretty picture. The Count may have not appreciated Ugolin’s external façade, but Jean knew that what happened inside the basement of pleasure would be kept in complete confidence. The kind of trust he had in Ugolin was not the kind you could purchase with gold coins. Twisted creatures of nature found an affinity in each other, birds of a feather so to speak. “Everything is ready Ugolin?” Ugolin fidgeted nervously his glassy blank eyes darting here and there more nervously than usual. “Yes my master. Madame is in the ‘Red Room of Restraint’. Shall I return at the usual time?” The Count nodded and smiled at his trusted servant as he pushed the thick wooden door open, his cock already swelling in anticipation of the fun to come. Jean loved the Red Room of Restraint. He pushed the door closed and heard it being locked by his trusted servant Ugolin. He heard the shuffling steps as Ugolin ascended the steep stairs in the slow irregular swinging gait of a hunchback. The Count walked through the damp dark corridor and made his way to the left. On his right was the “Blue Room of Mirrors” with its gilded mirrors and piles of quilted pillows. Past the room of mirrors was the “Purple Room of Pain” with its racks of varied whips and paddles. Entering the “Red Room of Restraint” Jean was greeted by the site of the naked white-skinned body of young Claude’s beautiful wife prostrate and splayed out, chained by each ankle and each wrist. Adele together with Jean’s team of beautiful young female housekeepers had meticulously removed every hair on Martine’s pale white body and softened her skin with exotic and expensive scented oils. Two large log fires burned in impressive stone fireplaces at each end of the room warming it and offering a golden light that licked at Martine’s perfect pale white skin. The Count’s sexy student of pleasure was standing bent over a wide smooth flat wooden bar positioned at her waist. The wide bar was secured to the floor by two thick wooden posts. The wooden bar formed an angled support platform about eighteen inches wide with smooth rounded edges. The wooden bar was designed to fit perfectly under a woman’s hips and along her stomach and to offer support to the chained person’s abdomen as she was bent over forcing her ass out into the air. Another post was positioned forward of this bar with a small padded leather head rest so the woman could rest her head while she was bent over and immobilized. The wide wooden bar at Martine’s hips had a deep half-moon carved into its middle ensuring that both the anus that was being pushed out into the air and the pussy immediately below the anus would be fully accessible to anyone standing behind or kneeling below the restrained person. The young wife was bent over at the waist and each wrist was pulled wide to the side by a leather cuff and a thin taut chain attached to the sidewall. A solid metal ankle spreader cuffed to each ankle spread her ankles wide. Martine’s firm rounded white ass pointed straight out from her bent-over body completely vulnerable to anyone. The Count’s sex-pet was totally immobilized and her ass and pussy were at his mercy. At her master’s approach Martine began to whimper, cry and mew in a mixture of strange female noises. Jean smiled knowing that his mere presence could now cause this young woman’s pussy to cream with a thick viscous liquid shining in her slit. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for something. Did she desire mercy? Or did she lust for the ecstasy of “almost pain” and perfect pleasure that only her master could deliver? Whatever it was the total submission in Martine’s eyes acknowledged her release would require her master’s deft touch. Her throat constricted tightly feeling tight and dry. A hesitant nervous whimper escaped her throat and Jean’s hand lashed out so fast she did not even see the slap coming. Martine’s face whipped to the side, her cheek turning red and burning. “I’m so sorry my Count….I…..I…..” Martine’s stuttering blubbering and pleading were interrupted by Jean’s command. “Shut up you worthless bitch. Did I command you to whimper? Did I consent for you to look at me?” Martine cast her eyes immediately to the stone floor, averting them from her master’s face. A tremor rippled through her nervous body, but seeing the huge bulge in the light cotton of her master’s trousers, her pussy became even more wet, its puffy-pinkish outer lips becoming coated with slick, thick viscous creamy secretions of hope. She pulled her neck up trying to watch Jean’s position, but the thick leather collar attached by a chain to the floor held her head down and severely restricted her movement. The powerful Count grabbed a fistful of his gorgeous sex prisoner’s long blond hair and almanbahis yeni giriş yanked upwards lifting her head roughly against the leather collar and bending her neck backwards. He ran a large masculine hand down to one of Martine’s dangling plump young firm breasts. His fingers roughly grabbed her small pink nipple and rolled it hard as he kissed her forcefully on the lips thrusting his tongue into her sweet young cherry-lipped mouth. Claude’s wife moaned uncontrollably in response to the Count’s exercise of manhood and ownership and her body squirmed in lusty expectation of more. Jean pulled out his massive ten-inch cock from the bulging light cotton trousers and dangled it, hard and massive, only an inch from Martine’s soft sweet lips. He made the young adulterer beg for his cock before once again grabbing a fist-full of her hair and placing his cockhead lightly against her sweet lips. “Suck my lovely. Suck your master’s cock. Prove to me you are worthy.” She licked her lips, getting them well lubricated before enveloping the massive purple-red cockhead and swirling her tongue around its stiff rim. Jean threw his head back and moaned as his lovely subordinate’s wife began to play with his manhood in her warm mouth. He drove his big thick cock forward causing young Martine to gag. He began to slowly fuck her sweet soft young mouth while holding her head steady with a fist-full of her lush golden blond locks. Jean’s groans mingled with Martine’s moans as both of their arousals grew in eager carnal intensity. As the Count commenced taking his liberties with the beautiful young Martine, his ever-faithful servant Ugolin knew he had two hours at least before he must return. The loyal but deformed dwarfed cretin skulked out the back door of the chateau nervously. By habit the hunchback used the shadows as much as possible as he went past the vegetable garden towards the stables. He would meet Florette in the dark and in the shadows where creatures like him self felt comfortable and safe. Like two harried fugitives they met in secret and Ugolin handed her the ring of dark metal keys. The hunchback looked up at Florette his eyes watering, his hands rubbing together nervously, expectantly. “My reward? What about my reward? You promised?” Florette had done a deal and now was time for payment. She called out to Marie and the pretty young seventeen-year-old stable girl approached in a flower print frock. A simple cotton dress to be sure and second hand and worn at that, but even the simplest cloth could not diminish Marie’s youthful beauty and undeniable sex appeal. Ugly hunched Ugolin began to salivate at the mouth and licked his lips at the enticing sight of young Marie with her flared hips and firm young breasts. Florette motioned for the two of them to go to the blankets she had laid out behind the stack of straw. “And hurry Ugolin! We don’t have all night. We need to take care. Any misstep could lead to disaster.” Florette took the keys on the ring and began to make impressions in the candle wax she had formed into a thick block square. Florette could hear the hunchback Ugolin grunting and rutting as he fucked the sweet young teenage Marie only a few feet away. She had promised the young stable girl a position in the household if her plan succeeded in return for satisfying the hunchback’s base needs. It didn’t take long before the hunchback’s grunts had ended and Marie emerged, her hair all tousled with little pieces of straw stuck to her floral print dress. “Are you okay my dear?” Florette enquired. “I have had worse sister.” Young Marie forced a tense fake smile. She trusted and worshipped Florette and out of respect addressed her elder with the intimate term “sister”. “When my virginity was first taken by the foreman it was much worse you know. While my mother and I knew what was expected of me as a mere stable girl, still I……” Marie’s voice quivered with a slight tremor as she recalled losing her virginity at the hands of a brute. It was not rape of course, but still the young girl’s wound was deep. The older woman could feel her despair as the young girl’s mind was cast back to that traumatic day. The young stable girl continued. “He is a rough and coarse man. That was a hard day.” Florette nodded to the young girl in acknowledgement of their bond of sisterhood, of bearing the burdens of being a woman. She could see the distress in Marie’s eyes, the reflected pain of her rough life under the control of rough men. No matter how much a woman denied the pain another woman could detect it in her eyes. The life of a woman, especially a pretty young woman like Marie who lacked a male protector was very difficult on Île de France. This was the burden of being born with a sweet desirable young pussy and being under the power and whim of despicable men with fewer morals than an insect. Ugolin’s hunched form came shuffling from around the stack of straw with his awkward unbalanced hunched gait making him look like an apparition from Hell. He was fixing his clothes and bore a limp satisfied grin on his distorted face, his eyes glazed with sated lust. “The keys Florette? And remember if anything happens I had nothing to do with this.” Florette handed the black ring of metal keys back to the disgusting stooped creature, his body gnarled and knotted by unknown dark forces of evil. Perhaps a local witch had cast spell on his mother when she was pregnant Florette speculated. The hunchback’s mother had committed a sin of some sort to cause such deformity, but of what nature who knew? Ugolin’s short dark and dwarfed hunched frame quickly skulked away into the long black shadows and the two women were left alone. Florette looked back at sweet young Marie. The older woman could see the glistening almost-tears gathered in her eyes. She could tell the young girl was struggling not to cry, trying not to show any weakness. If there was one thing Florette had encyclopedic knowledge of it was the human heart. A fifty-year-old French officer had taken Florette herself at sixteen with her mother’s consent. While she had been willing the memory of the older officer’s huge hard cock and how terrifying it had been to spread her legs for the first time was still vivid in her mind even after all these years. The sight of young Marie in such distress at servicing the hunchback almost broke her heart. She took the young stable girl by the hand and led her back to the blanket on the dry yellow straw where they laid down. Florette put the beautiful young stable girl’s head on her ample bosom and stroked her hair while making soft cooing sounds to soothe her young charge. The tears began to flow and Marie began to sob uncontrollably. She let Marie cry for a little while to provide solace for her pain. When the sobs had stopped Florette softly reminded Marie of their dream, of their plan. She told her to close her eyes and dream of a better day when her own daughter Manon would deliver them to a better place. With that Florette let her right hand slide under Marie’s thin cotton frock and rest on young Marie’s firm right breast. Her left hand shifted to Marie’s silky soft thigh and she softly stroked. Florette continued her soft words and sweet promises with her soft calm voice lulling pretty young Marie. At the same time her right hand began lightly grazing over the sensitive skin of the young girl’s right breast. Soon enough she could detect Marie’s breathing rate was increasing and she felt Marie’s nipple harden and become erect under her light touch. The older woman did not change the tempo of her strokes, but smiled a knowing smile. Young Marie clenched her eyes closed even more tightly as Florette added more light touches with her left hand, stroking up and down Marie’s soft smooth thigh. The light strokes on her breast and thigh soon had her breathing heavily and Florette then moved her left hand higher. She began to stroke softly around Marie’s pubic mound teasing the wispy tufts of soft silky hair and at the same time she lightly pinched Marie’s now hardened nipple. A sharp intake of breath let her know the young girl was enjoying the feather-like feminine touches. She spoke to young Marie softly, relaxing her and lulling her into a peaceful rest and teasing her senses to help her forget the session with the repulsive hunchback. “I am just massaging you my dear. Relax and close your eyes my darling. I am like your older sister. I will take care of you. Do not worry.” She felt young Marie’s body relax and soon little soft sounds started to be audible from the beautiful doll lying in her lap. Yes the stable girl was trying her best to restrain her sounds, but she could only do so much with Florette’s experienced touches making her more and more aroused. When she sensed the moment was right she let her finger trace the outer lips of Marie’s pussy. She felt the stickiness of Ugolin’s disgusting cum that was leaking from the sweet young girl’s vagina. Marie’s body tensed at first, but Florette proceeded patiently and soon her finger was swirling and touching Marie’s hard erect clit. The pretty stable girl now began to moan more loudly and her legs involuntarily spread wider allowing the older woman full access to her recently violated womanhood. She looked down and watched Marie’s young body. She was amazed at the young girl’s fresh green beauty and graceful curves that had so recently blossomed. It was so cruel thought Florette that this very sparkling beauty, which in France should have been a gift from god, on this island was like a curse. She wanted nothing more than to relax young Marie and to give her a few moments of respite from the horrible world the young maiden inhabited. She stroked Marie’s pussy faster with her fingers and listened almanbahis giriş happily as the young girl began to lose control. Moans and groans and simpering cries began to be emitted from Marie’s throat. The young girl’s body began to tense and she began to thrust her hips up against Florette’s teasing hand and fingers seeking her release. She knew a woman’s body very, very, well and she played with Marie and teased her until young Marie thought she could bear no more. Again and again Florette took young Marie to the edge of release before letting her fall back. The older woman’s fingers felt like a magic wand casting spell after spell on Marie’s throbbing pussy and burning nipples. Each time the tingles, the burning, the need, seemed to get more and more intense. Marie’s fingers gripped tightly onto her forearm, the aroused girl’s nails digging into the older woman’s skin, as she wordlessly implored Florette to deliver her into sexual oblivion. The young stable girl could feel her pussy walls contracting in violent contractions as they sought a cock to cling to, to rub against, to release against. Each time Florette simply toyed with her and Marie could only moan and groan in frustration waiting for her release. Finally Florette decided the writhing body grinding against her hand had had enough. She brought Marie to the edge a final time and her hand now soaked in the girl’s slick pussy juices mixed with Ugolin’s cum she drove two fingers into Marie’s tight young pussy. She used her thumb to rub Marie’s erect clit while she made circular motions with her fingers inside Marie’s pussy, feeling the walls grasping at her digits. At the same time Florette’s right hand rolled Marie’s right nipple hard and then it happened. Florette felt Marie’s young body shake and shudder and then it went rigid and arced off the ground. Marie tried to stifle the cry, but it was impossible. “Aaarrrgggghhhhhhhhh…….” The young girl cried out like a feline cat being raped in the alley. Her fingernails dug deeply into Florette’s skin and her body shook violently as wave after wave crashed through her young body. Florette kept her fingers moving as best she could to continue the massive orgasm as long as possible. The wild animal intensity of Marie’s cries surprised even Florette as she felt the young girl’s body writhe and twist uncontrollably in her lap. Marie’s eyes were clenched tightly shut in denial of the woman delivering the pleasure and Florette had no idea what image floated in young Marie’s head to deliver such a crazed release of passion. Was it the image of a naked woman or a naked man? Was it an image of Florette herself? Most probably she would never know as these were the secrets damaged souls kept hidden inside. She let young Marie’s breathing slowly return to normal. Florette slipped her fingers slowly out of the young girls tight pussy and wiped them on her soft cotton frock. She slid her right hand off Marie’s breast and began stroking her hair softly again and cooing reassuring words. Soon enough young Marie had fallen asleep in Florette’s lap and the older woman leaned back and rested against the bale of hay listening to the sound of the girl’s heavy breathing and snores. Finally she relaxed as her job was done for now and she too relaxed. The wax impressions were hopefully worth the risks she had taken. Growing up in Île de France Florette had learned all about the sins of the world and the violence of living on the edge of grandeur. Florette had met hubris personally in the aristocracy. Florette dealt with avarice daily and she knew extravagance and gluttony lived only a few meters away in the stone chateau. Envy was all around as was the sloth of the ruling French class. But above all else, when it came to the human heart, Florette knew lust. As Florette’s sad soft eyes gazed down at the slumbering young Marie, her chest rising and falling softly in deep sleep, finally free in dreamland, Florette knew it was her duty and that of her daughter Manon to free this young girl for a better future. They had a plan and the plan must work. Back in the basement of the huge stone chateau Jean was continuing his debasement of beautiful young Martine, the gorgeous blond wife of his subordinate. He grinned wickedly as Martine sucked and tongued his huge cock. Jean had a special surprise tonight, a new twist to their playtime. He would take Martine’s training to the very next level. He pulled up hard on the fistful of golden blond hair he was holding, abruptly ripping Martine’s mouth off his tingling cock. Martine’s tightly latched cherry-lips made a loud “popping” sound as his thick purplish cockhead was pulled out of her eagerly sucking sweet young mouth. He laughed a deep husky laugh on hearing the loud popping sound reverberate in the stone room. Martine cried out from the pain of her hair being pulled so harshly by the roots. “You are so eager tonight my dear. You are sucking my cock with genuine enthusiasm?” He patted Martine’s head like you would pet that of a pet dog. Jean ran his hand slowly down Martine’s neck and reached under and played with one of her pert pinkish nipples turning it quickly hard. Jean’s eyes savored the firm gentle curves and contours of this young woman’s perfect taut body. He thought of Manon, the young virgin he would deflower the very next night in this very same basement. Where Martine was blond and beautiful and French, a cultured young wanton wife, the young Manon was wild, dark, lusty and tropical, an untamed slave girl; the two were like opposites of sexual attraction. Where beautiful young married Martine was born to a French family in civilized Paris and baptized a child of the holy savior, Manon was a mongrel child without any race or pedigree, a virgin sex-nymph born into pure nature on a stack of straw in this Garden of Eden paradise called Île de France. Which one would satisfy him more he wondered completely unaware that his sexual gluttony was a gross perversion of nature? Jean moved around Martine’s tightly secured body running his hands possessively over her curves and stroking her waist and firm ass. He owned her now and possessed her just like he possessed the horses in his stable. Martine was his property as certain as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, it was simply the way of nature. In nature he thought it was only natural that the dominant male would mate with the most desirable females. Lesser males would be pushed to the side. As he gazed at the sexual perfection of her firm body he was certain Martine’s pathetic husband had no right to this wonderful prize. Martine whined and nervously mewed in nervous worry and tried to squirm and twist her body as she both hungered for Jean’s touch and feared it may turn into something to be feared at any moment. Jean picked up a crystal decanter of Cognac from the sideboard and poured a large glassful. Putting his hand roughly under Martine’s chin Jean forced her head up. He brought the glass of Cognac to her lips. “Drink up my dear. I have a special surprise tonight.” Jean tipped the glass back and Martine gulped as the strong alcohol seared its way down her throat. He poured too fast and some of the amber liquid dribbled down the sides of her chin. He brought the glass back a second time and made her drink more. The desirable sweet young wife was not used to the strong Cognac and her head was soon spinning, her eyes losing focus. Jean’s body seemed to be swirling around the room as Martine tried to keep him within view her fear and nervousness growing, her body sweating. She heard his throaty husky laughter as she frantically looked to see where he had gone. Her body tightly chained, her neck collar secured to the floor, there was little Martine could do. Craning her neck this way and that way she struggled to look behind her as she frantically worried where her master had gone and what he was up to? Martine thought her ears must have been deceiving her? Was that another woman’s voice? Jean suddenly re-emerged from an unseen side door. He was striding in long deliberate strides with his muscular chest glistening and oiled in the firelight. Her master was leading one of his special servant girls “Elodie” by a short leather leash. Martine’s eyes went wide as she saw the tiny young naked girl being led on a leash. Elodie was petite and young, perhaps only eighteen or so. Martine had never seen this petite girl before and she had no idea why Jean had brought her into the room. Elodie was no more than five-feet tall and perhaps only ninety-pounds. She was actually nineteen years old, but she was so tiny and cute she looked like she was sixteen. Pretty young Elodie looked so tiny and delicate beside Jean’s huge muscular body. This young girl had an almost completely flat chest with only tiny slight mounds passing for breasts. These little rises were adorned with the cutest little light pink nipples. Elodie’s light brown hair was cropped pixie-short like a boys with her front bangs angled across her forehead. The dominant feature of Elodie’s youthful face was her huge almond eyes and pencil thin arched eyebrows. Other than the hair on her head and her eyebrows, Elodie’s body was completely hairless and smooth. Elodie followed Jean meekly clearly waiting for her master’s instructions. Martine began to speak her voice strained and nervous. “But Jean…..she’s a woman and…” Martine paused her face blushing bright red. “I’m naked Jean……Please!!” Martine’s final “Please” was a cross between begging and a wail of despair. When Jean’s hand arrived to strike Martine’s ass the harsh “smack” sound that reverberated in the stone chamber was so loud it made Elodie shrink back in fear her neck pulling against the black leather collar and her eyes flying wide and crazed in distress. With Jean you never knew his mood and how quickly it could change and Elodie was clearly on edge. “You dare to question my judgment you adulterous slut?” Jean looked at Martine in clear disgust at her outburst.

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