by Anya Howard
“Madam holds special classes there every few weeks for those Disciples deemed in need of them. Etiquette lessons actually, for newcomers who have difficulty shedding bad habits learned on Earth, or those of us who have simply taken up bad habits.”
Gillian grinned and said, “Have you had to take lessons, Pearl?”
The girl blushed. “Only once or twice.” Her eyes darted down the table and she said confidentially, “You know Alexandra, don’t you?”
Gillian followed her eyes and saw Alexandra sitting far down the bench on the other side of their table. She was one of the few Disciples stripped of her clothing, and Gillian wondered what she had done to still require such exposure.
“Yes, I know her,” she replied as the sensual memory of the afternoon in the woods made her tingle all over.
“She’s on the list for the next semester. Thoughtless in her passions, that’s her problem, always has been. But she got carried away once too often. Now she will be sorry.”
Gillian did not care for Pearl’s righteous tone and was sorry to hear Alexandra was in trouble. She wondered, too, if she had anything to do with Alexandra being scheduled for lessons. It was unlikely; she had only just arrived when Alexandra and Lara seduced her into the deep woods.
The recollection of that time with them was still sweet. Just as sweet was the recollection of seeing the two bound to the Rapture Pillars; their lovely, helpless flesh exposed for any and all to appreciate, to touch, to stimulate.
No, if she failed to learn from that lesson, she was in sore need of special attention.
But then Gillian felt a wave of apprehension, for she had sneaked away with Clive just as surely as Alexandra had sneaked away with Lara. Her mouth parched, for she could not forget the Warden’s prediction: as a Disciple she would be punished accordingly for breaking the rules.
Pearl whispered distantly, and the anxiety in her voice drew Gillian out of her own concerns. “Looks like they are ready to announce the tally.”
Gillian saw that she was staring across the room to the Dommes’ table. They were poring over sheets of parchment and marking something down on a separate sheet laid out on the table, talking quietly among themselves for the first time since dinner had commenced.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh,” Pearl said, fidgeting with the ribbon cinched at her cleavage, “I don’t know if you noticed today, but the Leather Wives observe us during the day; a particular Domme for a number of girls. Of course, we can only guess sometimes which one of them is watching us. After dinner, they take out the notes they have made on our behavior, comparing all acts of misconduct. The five Disciples who are then deemed to have committed the most or worst acts are given special penalties in order to set an example that the rest of us won’t easily forget. See those by the wall? They are reserved for this.”
Gillian looked at the stools she had hardly noticed lined up against one wall and a large, plain box nearby.
“The ones selected will be humbled in view of us all. Afterward, they will be given over to the kitchen prisoners for the rest of the night. These trustees are chosen from those on the redemption list, awaiting return to Earth, rehabilitated. They enjoy privileges the other prisoners do not.”
Gillian nodded soberly. Several moments passed and one of the Leather Wives rose to her feet and called for the Disciples to fall silent. Gillian’s stomach twisted when the woman’s intense blue eyes flashed her way.
“For those who are not yet acquainted with our le dessert des disciples, we will now announce the names of those who have shown the least inclination to behave today. Those named will come forward to receive a fitting reward for it. As Domme Camille could not attend dinner tonight, she has given me her accounts, so be assured her notations have been tallied along with the rest.”
The door to the kitchen opened and five prisoners walked in and lined up against the wall. The first four carried trays laden with servings of what looked like strawberry torte. The fifth stood with his arms folded casually over his chest as the Leather Wife read out the names from the sheet in her hand.
“Melody, Sharon, Alice.” The Domme glanced at the list quickly and added with a wicked ghost of a smile, “Alexandra—hmm, why am I not surprised? And oh, yes, Pearl.”
Relief washed Gillian’s dread away. After Pearl’s judgmental words about Alexandra, however, she was tickled to see her crestfallen face and wondered what act of misconduct Pearl had committed to merit this punishment. The other girls were no happier, and their respective belled ankle bracelets or shoes jingled softly as they went to meet their punishment. But Pearl looked to be glued to the bench.
The Leather Wife strode to the table. “On your feet, Pearl!”
When she still did not move, the woman grabbed Pearl’s arm and pulled her up. Pearl let out a protesting whimper and covered her face with her hands as she was led away. The other three were removing their panties when Alexandra threw a contemptuous look at the prisoners. But then, as the other Disciples, she bent over a stool with her face to the wall.
The Leather Wife removed Pearl’s panties and forced her down over the stool.
“Continue to feel sorry for yourself, Pearl, and you will find yourself spending the night bound to a Rapture Pillar. But perhaps that is where a Disciple who cannot resist fondling herself belongs. That pussy belongs not to you, young lady, but to Nemi, and you have been reminded of that on more than one occasion.”
Pearl pursed her lips sullenly as the Leather Wife gestured the empty-handed prisoner over. He drew from the red-tissued box what looked like a candy tin and handed this to the Leather Wife. She opened the lid back on its small hinges, and the prisoner lifted out a slender phallus-shaped wand. At the Leather Wife’s nod, he grinned and smacked Pearl’s ass with his free hand. Pearl suppressed the cry that flew to her lips, and Gillian saw her shudder when he spread her legs and parted her buttocks.
He inserted the wand into her anus, stopping at the red bobble that stayed outside to draw all eyes to her shame. Returning to the box, he took out a tall, white cone hat. This he set on Pearl’s head. It seemed all the girl could do to keep her composure, and Gillian heard her groan softly as the prisoner moved down the line of Disciples, dispensing the same chastisement.
When the last Disciple was crowned with her humbling hat, the Leather Wife waved her finger at them all.
“One word, one whimper, one cry, and I’ll turn my paddle over to one of the kitchen help!”
The five did not answer, did not move. The Leather Wife returned to her table and the prisoner to the kitchen. The other four moved to the Disciples’ table and began serving the tortes. A few moments later, another prisoner came out and offered little glasses of liqueur with slivers of ice to those girls who had been spared le dessert des disciples.
Gillian tried to concentrate on the sweet concoctions, but she knew how lucky she was to have avoided Pearl’s humiliating display. Yet Pearl had been right about something: it was indeed one example she would not easily forget.
As she finished the torte and listened to the hushed conversations of those about her, Gillian’s thoughts drifted to other things. She smiled to think of Clive’s sweet nothings and her pussy warmed a little to recall the time spent with the very masculine Warden.
The memory of the overcompensating Thomas W. made her grimace, and she knew some regret over the disgrace she had caused poor Sir George. Then there was the chastising breakfast outside that morning. That memory brought a painful blush to her face.
But the humbling memory eased away as she thought of the ritual in the Temple of Purity. Despite all she had been through that day, the impact of that ritual had helped silence the voice that had protested so loudly before against the exacting Nemian customs. She understood now that the voice had echoed earthly customs she had never embraced, ethics that her heart, if not her mind, had known were impractical and senseless even as she went through the mundane motions of earthly existence.
; The recognition of this truth was making it easier to understand the purpose of her new life. If she had one lasting remorse, it was that she had not accepted herself while still on Earth. She smiled sadly now, thinking of Bruce, the man she had fantasized about so often but did not have the nerve to approach, at least not as the submissive she was. What would have happened, she wondered, if she had allowed him a glimpse into her real nature and let him know he was the one she dreamt of releasing her from the constraints of taboo?
Even if he’d been interested, his own restraining demons would have probably turned him away.
She noticed the Leather Wife had risen again and moved to the door of the kitchen. She said something to someone inside. A few moments later, a prisoner came out carrying a towel. With this he grasped each red bobble and removed the anal wands in full view of all. The faces of the punished Disciples were just as red with shame.
The Domme clapped her hands. “Now, go and serve the prisoners tonight,” she instructed them.
They removed their dunce’s hats, gave them over to the Leather Wife, and with their faces downcast, followed the man who had cleaned them into the kitchen.
“Gillian.”
Gillian looked up and saw it was Domme Camille who had addressed her. The woman’s smile was as thin and hard as the ice in the shots of liqueur.
“You will come with me now.”
Gillian followed her to the door of the very room the Leather Wife had entered earlier. Domme Camille knocked gently and after several moments, Madam opened the door. She was dressed in a long, flowing black silk gown with bell sleeves and a red ribboned bodice. Her brown hair had been combed so that it fell in cascades over her shoulders.
“Come in, ladies,” she welcomed and closed the door behind them.
The room was spacious, perfumed with the countless flowers and flaming, scented candles set throughout. The reflections of these candles illuminated the polished, dark grain of the floorboards. Through the large windows, Gillian saw the garden area where she had been forced to nurse the feeding bottle. She looked away bashfully, to the great bed, canopied with black veils and its posts garlanded with crimson roses that had been planted in niches cradled on the outside of the bed’s wide spindle legs. Beside the bed was a table covered with gold cloth. Items of discipline and pleasure were set here: bottles of oils, feathers and dildos, masks and gags of all sizes. Several crops lay there, too, and the paddle Madam usually carried, as well as a lengthy switch.
She trembled as Domme Camille pressed her shoulders and spoke low, “Always on your knees when you enter here, Disciple.”
Gillian descended quickly, having to stifle the moan that rose to her throat. Madam looked down at her thoughtfully, her face unreadable as she turned and took a seat in a blue overstuffed chair. She raised her feet to the matching ottoman and snapped her fingers over the arm of the chair.
“Come over here, Gillian.”
Without either of the women saying so, Gillian understood that she was expected to crawl. Blushing hotly, she did so, stopping right at Madam’s draped hand. As she lowered her face, a strange, engulfing and almost luxurious sense of resignation swept over her.
Madam made a sensual sound and stroked the back of Gillian’s neck. Her fingers launched a bolt of cool electricity down Gillian’s spine.
“You are fully a Disciple now, Gillian,” she said. “I welcome you and am honored to call you mine.”
Gillian’s eyes raised and she caught Madam’s sincere smile. Her bearing was as forbidding as ever; and this, Gillian knew, evidenced her sincerity more than any coddling welcome ever could. She knew now, too, that she would not change the lady’s strict affections even if she could. Impelled by emotion, Gillian lifted her face and kissed Madam’s hand.
This Nemian proprietress had welcomed her for exactly what she was.
“I love you, Madam,” she whispered.
Madam inhaled gracefully and bent forward. She kissed Gillian’s brow and hugged her face to her breasts.
“And I love you, my sweet.” Gillian watched as she looked up to Domme Camille. “You were right, Camille. Most of these young women are grateful.”
Domme Camille’s face brightened so that the unspoken darkness that had weighted her manner now vanished.
Madam smiled and sat back again.
“Of course, my sweet, you know I have been informed of your liaison at the prison.”
Gillian nodded humbly, but she was now more remorseful than frightened.
“This incident caught poor Camille at a bad time, because of another situation, involving two of her sister Leather Wives. Otherwise, I assure that she would have doled out a suitable punishment straightaway. But here you are now, to answer to both of us.”
The sense of impending doom descended over Gillian again, but she did not even think to plead her cause this time. She had been disobedient and she knew it.
“Camille, go fetch my crop.”
Gillian’s heartbeat pulsed in her temples as Domme Camille stepped to the table beside the bed. At her return, Madam sat up straight in her chair and slid the skirt of her lovely silk gown up over her thighs.
She pointed to the ottoman and said, “Up there, Gillian, belly down.”
As Gillian crawled up over the ottoman, Madam told her to keep her legs spread open. Holding Gillian’s head between her hands, she directed Gillian’s lips between her thighs so that they touched the nest of brown curls at her pubis.
“You will show your devotion to me now, my girl,” she commanded sternly, “while Domme Camille punishes you. And if I determine your efforts are flagging, you shall spend the night bound to the Rapture Pillar, after the Warden is brought here and you suck his cock while wearing the dunce’s cap!”
She knows I was with him! Gillian blushed so hard that her eyes filled with stinging tears.
Madam trailed a fingernail up the nape of her neck. Shyly, Gillian opened the folds of the older woman’s musky sex and kissed her clit just as the first strike of the crop bore down across her backside. She shuddered and the crop swooped down again, scoring her flesh with heat. Again and again Domme Camille flogged her. With tears in her eyes, Gillian licked Madam’s clit. It burgeoned forth and she sucked it gently and probed two fingers into the fount of Madam’s vagina. How hot and succulent the flesh was there. Even as Gillian’s buttocks grew raw and her hips winced under the sensual barrage, she pumped Madam steadily.
Madam’s clit swelled and throbbed. With a gush of juices, her body tensed and her clit beat wantonly in Gillian’s mouth. Domme Camille’s strikes fell easier for a moment, long enough to allow Madam to recover from her climax. Then Madam pulled Gillian’s head back by her hair. She nodded to Domme Camille, and observed as the Leather Wife now flailed Gillian’s backside mercilessly.
Gillian tried to keep still, but when Domme Camille began to lash her thighs with the smarting crop, she squirmed wildly over the ottoman. Madam sucked the cries from her mouth with kisses and lifted a hand.
Gillian heard the crop fall to the floor. Domme Camille pried her legs far apart and knelt between them. She buried her face in to Gillian’s pussy. It quivered at the touch of her hot mouth, and Madam kissed her deeply just as the Domme’s tongue penetrated her sex. Gillian’s clit pulsed indecorously. She cried in shame and anxious need. Domme Camille fucked her madly with her tongue, ignoring the craving beats of her clit until suddenly she lapped it once, twice, and an approaching orgasm tightened Gillian’s pussy.
Domme Camille abruptly drew back and spanked her sore bottom with a palm. The annulled climax was maddening. Gillian’s hips rose pleadingly toward the Domme and her wanton moan filled Madam’s mouth.
“No, oh, no,” Camille purred, continuing to punish her, “you owe me this passion, mischievous girl!”
Gillian’s clit hungered as painfully as her buttocks throbbed. When at length the spanking stopped, she panted desperately at Madam’s lips.
Madam drew her face away gently. Her bold
, knowing eyes deflowered a part of Gillian she had not known existed until that moment.
At last, Madam smiled and said, “I am aware of the creature that spotted and attempted to seduce you from the circle. And so I’ve called for one of our most diligent guards to watch over you for a time. Sir Vincent is discussing the incident and your particulars with the man as I speak.”
Gillian frowned curiously as Madam continued. “For your own safety, I feel this is warranted. But take comfort in knowing you will be spared the dunce cap tonight. While you are bound to the Rapture Pillar, remember that the unrelieved arousal you feel is a lesson and a passion in itself.”
Gillian’s mouth fell open. Why did she have to face the Rapture Pillar when the spanking had been so thorough? It seemed so unfair. Yet through the haze of her self-pity, she knew the answer. If Madam proved lenient tonight, she, Gillian, might be forever lost to brazen whims. For this she was grateful, even as she shivered in terror at the thought of being exposed all night long—utterly vulnerable to the attentions of the night guards.
So she tried to take comfort in the kiss Madam blew and regretted it had not the power or intention to snuff the sexual flame deep between her legs.
It had been a long while since Domme Camille had gone back inside the house and left Gillian bound to the Pillar. The guards the Domme had summoned had stripped Gillian utterly and stuffed the dildo part of a submissive’s muzzle into her mouth. With it tied firmly in place two of the men lifted her up and pressed her back against the Pillar. The other one had then draped her arms and spread-eagled her legs back so they hugged the Pillar. He tied her wrists and ankles with silk cord. The cords were fastened into the wood with the same kind of metal-toothed clamps used with Alexandra and Lara.
Two of the guards had returned to their usual posts out in the yard, and as the one remaining finally withdrew his probing fingers from Gillian’s vagina, she cried silently around the thick dildo filling her mouth. The man had taunted her to the very point of a climax and left her to writhe shamefully against the unyielding Pillar.