by Sarah Fisher
‘You sound somewhat subdued. Are you okay?’
Before she had a chance to reply Peter Tourne took the phone from her, and in doing so he let a long finger snake around to find a way inside her. She let out a strangled gasp as he found his mark.
‘I am very pleased - I just wish you’d told me. Alex is proving to be extremely talented,’ he said with a smile, tucking the phone under his chin. ‘I am delighted with her efforts so far.’ His fingers moved to and fro in an intimate, invasive arc. ‘I think she’ll do very well here.’
Alex didn’t quite hear Laurence’s reply at the other end of the line, but Peter Tourne laughed. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure she’ll prove to be more than satisfactory. I’m afraid we have to go now, we’re just about to eat.’ While he made his goodbyes his finger remained in place. Alex stood frozen to the spot, afraid to move.
He looked at her as he placed the phone on the side table.
‘Well done,’ he said softly, while pulling his finger from her body. She flinched, but didn’t resist as he lifted his hands to her face and pressed the finger into her mouth. The heady musk of her own body flooded her taste buds.
He smiled. ‘We will eat, and then later we’ll continue with your education.’ Alex’s eyes didn’t leave his. He took her hand and led her to the table, seating her beside him. A second or two later Gena and Starn appeared, and dinner was served.
As each course was completed Alex couldn’t help but wonder what would happen once they had finished their meal. A little spark of tension hung in the air, and by the time coffee was served the atmosphere was so expectant that Alex could hardly bear the wait. Finally Peter Tourne looked at her.
‘Go down to the room near gallery and wait for me there,’ he said softly. She felt a little tremor of excitement and hesitated for an instant - did she really want her education to continue? He looked at her again, but by this time she was on her feet and moving.
Afraid to look back in case her courage failed her, she hurried down through the house and out into the garden, imagining his footfalls on the stairs behind her. Scurrying through the velvet shadows of the gallery above the pool she opened the door of the room where she had spent the night, and gasped - waiting inside was Mario, his dark feral eyes glistening in the gloom.
Alex glanced back over her shoulder, wondering where Peter Tourne was. Across the room Mario leered and licked his lips.
‘No - you shouldn’t be here,’ she stammered, as the rough looking man crept towards her. ‘Mr Tourne said,’ she began, and then remembered that he’d told her to wait for him. She had to obey his instructions - she couldn’t leave. She had to stay if she wanted what Peter Tourne had to offer.
Alex moved towards the door until her back was against the wall. She trembled slightly. Mario’s eyes wandered over her body, as cruel and obscene, as his fingers had been the night before. Alex was desperately aware that her clothes offered little protection from the him. She was wearing the thinnest of cotton dresses and was naked beneath, in anticipation of Peter Tourne’s needs.
Mario continued to leer at her, and slowly extended a hand. Alex shook her head violently, and started to side step towards the door. As her fingers closed around the door handle Mario lunged forward and grabbed hold of her arms. Her first instinct was to bring her knee up, but to her horror Mario anticipated the move and dodged the blow before it hit home.
His dark eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and amusement.
‘You want hurt me?’ he said gruffly. Alex wriggled to try and free her hands, pulling desperately to escape him. As she did the door opened behind her and she spun around to see Peter Tourne and Starn framed in the opening. She sighed with relief.
‘Oh, thank God,’ she whispered. ‘He was already waiting when I got here. He - ’ To her abject surprise Mario didn’t release her, in fact if anything his grip tightened.
Peter Tourne smiled thinly. ‘I know he was, my dear. He was dutifully obeying my orders, as he always does.’ He turned to the driver. ‘Tie her up, Mario.’
Alex stared at him in astonishment. ‘No,’ she pleaded. ‘Please, Mr Tourne, tell him to stop - please! You know I’ll do exactly what you want!’
As she begged Mario pulled a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket and deftly snapped them onto her wrists. Her heart began to race. It seemed the encounter with Mario was part of the education Peter Tourne had in mind for her.
Part of her wanted to laugh; this was silly, just a game - but she wanted them to stop now. She looked from face to face, desperately hoping to find a hint of compassion in the eyes of one of them. Instead she found an unnerving mixture of desire and contempt that knocked every ounce of resistance out of her.
With a slight nod of his head Tourne signalled to Mario, who dragged Alex to the centre of the room. Glancing up she noticed for the first time a hook suspended on a length of chain from the ceiling. Surely it had not been there before? She squirmed as Mario held her with one strong arm while he pulled her hands up and attached the hook to the centre of the chain, which linked her cuffs. He leered constantly, obviously enjoying his work, and then adjusted the chain so that her hands were lifted above her head, her feet just resting on the floor. Alex was trussed like an animal carcass.
Tourne nodded his approval. Mario moved away, and Alex couldn’t help but notice his disgusting erection jutting forward through his chinos. Another almost discernible nod from his boss, and Mario rubbed his hands together, and then opened one of the cupboards set in the far wall. From inside he produced a set of leg irons; a long steel bar, with an ankle cuff at each end.
‘Please,’ Alex begged softly. ‘There’s no need for all this. I’ve already promised to do everything you want. Surely you know that? I - ’ Her ramblings were cut short as Mario grabbed each of her ankles. She shuddered and instinctively tried to draw away from him. He snorted and grabbed her foot, dragging off one of her shoes. He unbalanced her, and the sockets in her shoulders screamed out in complaint. If she fought too much, he would tip her over and then her whole weight would be suspended on her arms. The thought horrified her. Mario lifted one foot higher to snap the ankle cuff into place and as he did he lifted her foot to his mouth and ran his tongue between her toes.
Alex gasped in horror. The sensation turned her stomach to liquid. Spreading her legs wider Mario pushed the bar into position and snapped the second cuff into place. He knelt back on his heels to admire his handiwork. Alex’s sense of panic was growing with every passing second. She was totally at the mercy of the three men - nothing she could do would prevent them from doing whatever they pleased with her. She twisted and tried to meet Peter’s eyes. Surely now that his henchman had secured her he himself would take over?
‘You have to understand the true nature of obedience, Alex.’ Peter Tourne said quietly. ‘This is a game we are playing, but you have to understand it is I, not you, who makes the rules.’
His voice shook her to the core. She stared at him. ‘Mr Tourne...’ she began, uncertain as to what she actually wanted to say.
He held up his hands. ‘Speak only when I tell you to. You make the mistake of believing that who you are and what you think is important to us here. In this game the only things you have to offer are a - your body, and b - your total obedience to my every wish.’ As he allowed his words to sink in, he nodded again to Mario.
The burly driver stepped closer and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Before Alex could protest he blindfolded her.
Suddenly plunged into darkness, Alex felt her terror mingling with the same dark, unnerving wave of expectation that had haunted her since her arrival at KaRoche. Rough hands clawed at her dress, ripping it away like tissue. She mewled in fear as the cool evening air hit her body. Now she was truly defenceless. She strained to try and hear what was going on in the room. Her head span. She was on the edge of hysteria when she felt the tou
ch of a hand. Was it Mario or Tourne or Starn who was exploring her intimately now - pawing and licking her vulnerable breasts and nipples? Her sense of smell gave her the answer she needed; the stench of Mario’s beer-soaked and sweating body threatened to overwhelm her. And she knew, as Mario thrust a rough finger into her, that the master and his guest were quietly watching while the servant played.
The sense of humiliation made her flush scarlet. Did Tourne and Starn plan to watch while Mario indulged himself? Did they intend to watch while he forced his thick cock into whichever orifice took his fancy? Tears welled up inside her, soaking the blindfold, while Mario’s fingers opened her sex wider and teased at the tight bud of her clitoris.
What stunned Alex more than her fear and her sense of shame was that some rogue part of her mind was breathlessly excited by what was happening. Despite everything, Mario’s crude fumbling sent a ricochet of pleasure up through her belly. As he pushed and prodded, making her shriek with fear and secret pleasures, she imagined Peter Tourne’s eyes on her, savouring every detail of the erotic scene.
Picturing his expression in her mind, she didn’t feel Mario’s teeth closing on her nipple until too late. She gasped in anguish as he bit her, and then tried to pull away from him, fighting her own mounting desire as much as her tormentor’s touch. She heard him snort and step away.
For a moment Alex wondered if Mario would stop now - perhaps her punishment was over. They would leave her tied and alone with her feverish thoughts and fears. Her sense of relief was short-lived. From behind the blindfold she heard the unnerving sound of something cutting through the air, and an instant later a corona of pain exploded in her mind as a lash bit her squarely across the shoulders. She screamed and tried to fight. She twisted and turned against her restraints, oblivious suddenly to the pain in her shoulders. She span so far that the second blow caught her breasts, burning across her already sore nipples like a firebrand. The sensation was so astonishing that she leapt into the air. In her solitude it seemed as if she was defying gravity; almost flying away from the pain.
Before she had time to recover another blow wrapped around her waist, and she knew with blinding certainty that Mario was using an old-fashioned horsewhip. Another blow seared across her shoulders before the pain of the previous one had had a chance to ebb. The sensations threatened to consume her, like a flame speeding along a fuse and leaving a white-hot residue on her flesh and in her mind that refused to be extinguished. Every nerve ending in her body felt as if it was alight. More unnerving, along with the pain, plaited and twisted in with everything else, Alex could still feel terrifying threads of pleasure weaving themselves together. She heard a voice begging and mewling, and was stunned to realise it was her own.
For an instant she wondered if she would go mad. Would the sensations she was feeling catch light and consume her? How was it, that in all the years she’d lived, she’d never been aware of this dark seed growing within her? Out beyond the pain and the pleasure she suddenly understood what was compelling her to accept Peter Tourne’s education - it was the act of total surrender. She gasped as the realisation flooded over her, struggling to catch her breath as Mario applied the whip again and again. She had given herself totally to Peter Tourne - an act of trust beyond anything she had ever thought herself capable.
‘Let go,’ whispered a voice close by. For an instant Alex wondered if it was her own inner voice speaking, and then she realised it was the voice of her master, Peter Tourne. Had he been able to read her mind?
‘Let go,’ he urged again as the whip bit into her back. She whimpered, finally letting all rational thoughts trickle away as her body was caught up in the maelstrom of pleasure and pain. As Mario struck again all that remained was sensation - as electrifying and all engulfing as a summer storm.
Peter Tourne sensed the moment of surrender, that split second when Alex Sanderson abandoned everything she’d ever known and committed herself to him completely. He had witnessed it many times before, and had an instinctive understanding of when a pupil became his slave. Whatever else happened to Alex Sanderson, she would never be the same again. The seed that had lain dormant for so long would blossom and grow under his expert tutelage.
He signalled to Mario to bring the whipping to an end. A trickle of sweat ran down between Alex’s straining breasts. Her body, though trembling, was relaxed now, accepting the whip like a lover’s kiss. He smiled and walked over to the blindfolded girl. He gently traced a finger down over her taut nipples. He knew she sensed it was his touch and not Mario’s. She whimpered and rubbed herself against him like a cat seeking attention. He motioned to Mario to release the chain so that her arms would drop. She was understandably unsteady. He caught her before she could fall, and guided her down to the floor while Mario worked to free her ankles from the irons. She pressed herself against him, wordlessly seeking his approval. Kneeling over her he guided her face towards his groin.
Although hampered by the intense sting in her back and by the limiting and awkward restrictions of the handcuffs, Alex struggled feverishly to free his aching shaft and pull it into her mouth. She needed the comfort of his closeness. She curled onto her side, drawing him deep between her lips, lapping and licking at his phallus in an act of complete submission. Her fingers cradled his balls, her tongue and mouth eager to suck him dry. He shivered and pressed deeper, relishing the heat and the tightness around him. She moaned in appreciation.
He parted her thighs and stroked the soft naked rise of her sex. Without hesitation she opened her legs wider for him, offering herself up for whatever he wanted to take. She was so wet her juices coated his fingers like a fragrant tide. He smiled and sought out the pleasure bud that nestled like a ripe cherry between the lips of her sex. Her moans of delight vibrated through his shaft, taking him to the very edge of oblivion.
He pressed a single finger deep inside her quim, and at once felt her begin to tighten rhythmically around it, her moist heat perfectly echoing the rhythm of her mouth. He had barely touched her, but it had been enough to trigger her orgasm.
‘Yesss...’ he murmured as he surrendered to the call of his own pleasure, and flooded into her eager and gasping mouth.
Under his expert fingers Alex writhed like a wild animal, giving him every part of herself. It seemed that for an instant their minds met, each sensation replayed and echoed in the other. For that moment master and slave were equal and the same - riders on a storm of ecstasy.
When he’d done with her, Peter Tourne gently pushed her away. She licked her lips as if afraid she’d missed a drop of his precious essence, and then curled back into a ball. Across the room Starn Fettico grinned and began to unfasten his trousers. Tourne shook his head.
‘Leave her,’ he murmured. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later.’ He turned to Mario. ‘Take her to one of the cells and leave her chained. This is just the beginning.’
Climbing to his feet, he looked down at the naked English girl, her narrow back crisscrossed with welts, and smiled. It wouldn’t take long though, he thought; Alex Sanderson was a natural submissive, even if she hadn’t previously realised it herself. She would go far, and he would help her on her way.
Mario unfastened the chain from the handcuffs and hefted the girl up into his arms. His face was a mask.
Tourne stared hard at him. ‘Let her rest,’ he said, hoping the man would have sense enough to leave the girl alone when he got her to the cell; she’d already given him exactly what he wanted, and had earned herself a rest. He leaned over her and untied the blindfold. Alex’s eyes were closed, her face totally expressionless.
Alex’s consciousness had retreated into a dark safe corner of her mind, and it took a few minutes to feel she was once again in control. She’d almost felt as if she was watching herself suck Peter Tourne dry. Her body had been working on instinct alone, taking what it craved from the man who would be her master. Now, held tight i
n Mario’s burly arms, she wondered what would follow.
Ridiculously, she felt somehow safe and secure, as if a great weight had been lifted from her. Slowly reason began to reassert itself as Mario carried her across the room to the door beside the bathroom. It was ajar, and inside Alex could just make out a long corridor from behind her half closed lids. It was gloomy and cold. As the chill hit her naked flesh, Alex struggled to suppress a shiver.
Mario walked slowly, though there wasn’t the slightest suggestion he might drop her. At the end of the corridor was another open door. Alex stiffened as she glanced inside; it was a cell, barely taller than she was, with a platform along one wall. On the platform was a thin mattress and a rough grey blanket. Beside it was a toilet and a shower. Other than that the room seemed totally bare.
Mario rolled her unceremoniously onto the mattress, caught hold of the handcuffs she was still wearing, and clipped them onto a chain that hung from above. It was arranged so that she would be able to move around the cell, would be able to use the toilet and shower, but would not be able to leave this prison. But what disturbed her more than this alarming form of imprisonment was the expression on Mario’s face. He sniffed as he peered down at her, and ran his tongue over his fat lips. He didn’t look at her face. Instead his gaze rested on her nakedness, and he casually ran a hand up over her flank.
‘You like man to beat you,’ he said thickly. ‘It make you wet.’
Alex stared at him, struggling to find her voice. ‘Mr Tourne said you were to leave me alone,’ she said timidly, curling into a tight ball.
Mario snorted. ‘He don’t care, he not come down here. He just say, ‘Mario, fetch the girl. Mario, beat the girl’, but he don’t come down here. Down here there only me to look after you. If you don’t do what I like, then...’ he lifted his hands in an all encompassing gesture. ‘No food, no water, no blanket... no nothing! I make your life very - how you say,’ he struggled over the last word, fighting to find sufficient English. ‘Difficult!’
