The Pleasure Palace

by Caroline Swift

  “Claudia darling, be patient,” her lover murmured. The man was already fully aware of his mistress’s languishing desires as well as her ambitions. He was in full agreement but preoccupied by her unjustifiable eagerness.

  “Step by step, Claudia, my avenging angel.”

  Unpredictably, his gorgeous mistress promptly fell asleep in his arms. As he held her and cherished her lithe body close beside him, he meditated whether he should not have kept Juliette as his main mistress - Marcus never raised the slightest objection to that - and enjoyed her lascivious evenings and the sessions she organized so elegantly with the sexual help of her fabulous, exquisite Tansu. He would see how Claudia and the two girls acted.

  Chapter Six

  It was a week before Claudia could reach Juliette, absent in Rome. Meanwhile, Marina had seemed to be far more obedient when called upon to service her, ensuring that her Mistress, prostrated naked either on the black silk sheets or on the library table, regaled herself fully and at ease beneath her agile tongue that flicked and curled dutifully. Further, her duties towards her Master developed, with hints from Verena, even more conclusively. Her fellatio became increasingly proficient; she had learnt a host of wiles and techniques that rendered her performances with previous cocks mere travesties of what adroit fellatio should bring about on a rampant prick. In the past, she had equivocated too often with men’s needs, neglecting the anal ring, disregarding the vas deferens gorging and pulsating along the enigmatic but exciting perineum between the anus and the balls, waiting to spurt. And frequently she omitted to stimulate out the necessary supply of lubrication, using her saliva in its place. But she was learning. With Verena’s knowledge prompting her, she never failed to strip the foreskin back promptly to ensure that the hard ridge of the cock received full friction. The results on Mikhail’s shaft, standing swollen with blue veins, were promising; she could urge him on or restrain him, maintaining him in a limbo of tension until the man could bear the ripple of her lips, tongue and teeth no longer. As the clots of semen surged into her gullet, she drank it down with relish, just as she slurped up Claudia’s and Verena’s discharges.

  Handling the demands of the clitoris was less of a problem for Marina as an experienced lesbian but with Claudia, she discovered numerous new tricks, including her Mistress’s insistence on the Grafenberg point hidden in the inner roof of her sex. The girl derived unmitigated delight when the pungent, astringent discharge flooded her mouth, bringing her own sex to readiness. She looked forward to servicing the beautiful, tender cleft.

  Marina’s sole problem lay in the initial lashes of the whip over her flesh but, there too, she began gradually, in the successive whippings she endured in that first week, to sense the pain changing into sexual pleasure as her delicate epidermis grew used to the strokes. Towards the end of the week she received her sentence of three dozen lashes to the breasts. Claudia laid them on hard and as she leaped and twisted in her bonds while the fleshy lumps rebounded and bounced under the flagellation and Verena sucked hungrily at her cunt, Marina at last fully transcended the pain and found her first true slave’s orgasm.

  Above all, she became conscious of how her superb nudity invigorated her flagellators. This in turn exhilarated her and generated the orgasms she sought. Claudia seemed tolerably pleased with the progress and particularly with the girl’s docility. Marina would do anything to stay with her sister slave - and that Claudia knew. Slavery closed around her.

  Nevertheless, her Mistress envisaged far more challenging and arduous activities for her, for both the slaves. And increased pleasure for all concerned. Indeed, she badly needed Juliette to advise her. And at last, the anticipated meeting was arranged.

  Claudia had Antoine leave her in the rue de Rivoli so that she could walk a little before entering the Hotel de Crillon where Juliette had fixed the rendezvous. As she strolled along in the soft autumn sunshine, she rehearsed the questions to which she needed answers. And she decided to share her sentiments openly with Juliette as one dominant to another. Be frank, she told herself.

  Juliette was at her best, carefully groomed and dressed by Ungaro in a fawn costume that clung to her slender form, an outfit obviously made for her. The two women kissed in the hushed luxury of the lounge of the Crillon which Juliette frequented so regularly and where sometimes she took Tansu whom she made to sit naked, except for stiletto-heeled shoes and a cloak.

  Claudia listened with rapt attention to the woman’s account of the long Roman weekend and to the description of the Renaissance hall where Tansu and several other slaves had been exposed to ceremonial whippings and long sessions of servicing distinguished guests. Finally, Claudia’s turn to speak came as the white-gloved waiter brought the tea. Squeezing the lemon in her delicate fingers, Claudia sipped and announced the news.

  “They are making progress, Juliette dearest, yes, but I’m afraid they are novices. But you mentioned once some place where I could get them properly trained.”

  “Ah, you mean Beaucastel, darling. Yes, Beaucastel. I’ve used their services both for Veronique whom Marcus and I sold to that Dutch diplomat and for darling Tansu last year. The place is highly exclusive and rather expensive, but that’s no dilemma for you two! It’s situated in a magnificent chateau in the rather austere countryside of the Rouergue, not far from Rodez, if I recall. But, Claudia, you can’t just send them down there at the drop of a hat. There must be spaces available and the Master of Beaucastel - an extraordinary individual, to say the least - has to accept them.”

  Claudia nodded. “Perhaps you and Marcus could recommend us, Juliette. It sounds promising.”

  “With the utmost pleasure. And I assure you that neither you nor your slaves will regret going there. If you like, I’ll call them to see how they’re placed for new inductions. But you’ll have to have them ringed first.”

  “But can’t the people do that down there?”

  “Absolutely not, darling, if you and Mishka are really serious about Beaucastel, I would advise you to get your girls pierced and ringed forthwith. It takes some time for them to become accustomed to the hardware. I can recommend a man near the Place Victor-Hugo who pierces admirably, all seven points for the female.”

  Claudia marshalled her courage. “And what are the seven, Juliette?”

  Unhesitatingly, the woman touched her friend’s bosom lightly, letting her hand drift to the crotch. It was only a second’s gesture, but it excited Claudia with an unaccountable thrill.

  “Both nipples, deep near the base, all four labia, both inner and outer, and the clitoris hood. That’s the statutory minumum but several of the slaves I saw on my visit there were wearing rings in the navel and septum.”

  The Comtesse poured out the tea while her neighbour listened.

  “A course at the castle lasts normally two weeks. As to the actual training, it’s severe but covers everything you could wish for, my dear. A slave never looks back after a naked fortnight in those cellars.”

  “Juliette, where can I get equipment made? I mean trestles, a crucifix and breast-whipping bars and so on?” Claudia was determined to extract what she could from her friend while the climate was favourable.

  The woman delved into her Gucci bag to draw out a gold pencil and visiting cards.

  “Go to these people, out at Montreuil. They make everything. Whatever you require from huge oak flogging benches, completely fitted with bondage rings, to torture slabs covered with nails that teach an excellent lesson once in a while. They have harnesses, hoods, dildos, gags, what have you. You already possess slave helmets to mask and stifle your girls, I suspect?”

  Unable to resist the temptation, Claudia told her of Mikhail’s latest acquisition. For once she could be a trifle arrogant, for it was a precious and rare object. On a trip to Venice he had come across an ancient hood of crimson calf-leather, it had ear and eye pads and a wooden gag sewn into the lining. The ga
g was scored with the marks of countless gritted teeth.

  “We used it on Verenka and it fitted and worked perfectly but the older girl put up a bit of a fight at first...”

  “Scourge her, darling, scourge her until she implores you to use it on her.” The Comtesse’s approach was direct and to the point, as usual. “Sorry, go on.”

  “Do you think your man out at Montreuil could make me another hood like that one?”

  “Of course, darling. Meanwhile, you’ll have to use a normal one, won’t you? Just as effective and the gag’s of nice tough rubber. Tansu adores its girth.”

  The conversation seemed to Claudia to have lasted long enough. She had her briefing.

  And she realized that she had to leave quickly; her crotch was worrying her. It was flowing liberally into her slip. Her clit was excruciatingly rigid. The thing was demanding, compelling attention.

  Urgently...

  The women kissed warmly as the cars were summoned. The older woman felt attracted to Claudia and said as much.

  “You are very beautiful and I want to get to know you better.” The remark, charged with salaciousness, was not lost on the blonde dominant.

  When the Comtesse arrived at her enormous cavernous apartment, Tansu was there, lying on the bed, open and naked. And properly ringed as a slave should be. Juliette wondered whether Claudia would really go ahead with her plans. Beaucastel certainly awaited clients like her... And Juliette had undertaken to enquire for her. Which she did that same night. The answer was mid-November. That would give Claudia time.

  Driving home in the opposite direction, Claudia was desperate as the traffic slowed up Antoine and the Mercedes. Then she was home, viscous with an uncontrollable trickle sliding down the hot inner reaches of her thighs.

  She promptly opened the girls’ door. “Marina, I need you for a moment. Come.” She clasped the girl’s thin wrist, drawing her towards the black sheets beyond the passage, separating the rooms. Rapidly Claudia stripped herself to her garter belt; she could not wait for Mikhail’s cock. Where on earth was the man every time she needed fucking during the day? She bent Marina’s head down, making her kneel, elongating her own tense body, casting her arms out above her head, her thighs sprawled wide.

  “Suck me off. Quickly. Get into me with your tongue...”

  On her knees before the dripping sex, Marina took the pale stub of jerking flesh into her mouth, still astringent with the tang of Verena’s spicy come. The orgasm had heaped up within her Mistress and broke abruptly; it matched the proportion of the woman’s need and the distracted cry rang through the apartment, frightening the slobbering girl. My God, she’s going to die, Marina thought in a sudden rush of panic.

  Both remained inert for a long moment until Claudia roused herself. Hoarsely, she told Marina the good news.

  “I’m going to have you both, well... pierced and ringed next week. And sent to a place where you will both learn to become adequate slaves. Which is not the case at present. Go to your room and share this with your sister in sin, you slut. You’ll both dine with us tonight.” She felt extenuated for once, as she caressed the girl’s tangled, flaxen strands of hair. The slave had worked admirably - that she had to admit.

  Marina was lost in the maze of her Mistress’s utterances. She thought it best simply to bow in silence. She’s quite demented, was the sole conclusion she could summon up. Surreptitiously, she wiped the cloying liquid from her face, after tasting it again hungrily with the tip of her tongue. Then she left very quietly, her duty done. It had been far more gratifying than she had foreseen and yet each act of this nature was, she knew, drawing her inexorably into a web of collusion with her new owners. She felt she was voyaging out into uncharted seas, both alarming and thrilling to her docile temperament. One inference she drew from the situation was that strict conformity must prevail over resistance and even questioning. Above all, obedience, however humiliating, would safeguard her relationship with Verena. Be obsequious and you keep her, Marina reminded herself; act obstreperously and you’ll lose her. Moreover, these imposed sexual duties stimulated her own libido; at the same time, the prospect of piercing - quite apart from the further flagellations certainly to come perturbed her to an extent she had not expected.

  “What does the woman mean, for heaven’s sakes?” she queried Verena who listened quietly while showering and having Marina smear a balm lotion over her buttocks. The younger girl took the threat with surprising sang-froid, recalling to mind some of the illustrations she had studied in the library, magnificently naked slave women, bearing flesh rings in various parts of their bodies, were loaded with weights that distended the flesh while they were prepared for torture.

  As Marina dried and perfumed her body, chafing her teats into the required erection, the younger girl smiled encouragement.

  “Don’t be scared, darling. You’ll look stupendous with rings in you. How stimulating darling! Just think of it!.”

  “You can’t mean that, Verena!” But she knew her lover meant it in all seriousness. Perhaps she was right, but still Marina worried.

  Promptly at eight, Gemma entered to inspect them, glancing at the welts on Verena’s rear cheeks, and then ordered them to table.

  For once, however, their naked dinner was devoid of the usual joy. Mikhail, fresh from the squash courts, was puzzled; his attempts to add gaiety failed and he could only look questioningly, first at Marina’s glum countenance and then at his mistress.

  “What’s been going on here, may 1 ask?”

  “I’ll tell you later, Mishka. Would you care to have our little slaves make love together in our bed tonight while you enjoy me?”

  “If you wish, darling. But tell me what’s afoot.”

  “I saw Juliette,” was Claudia’s only reply. “She gave me some ideas, Mishka.”

  Chapter Seven

  The following five days and nights were replete with entertainment. Marina was most often beaten and Verena loved watching her graceful body twisting and jerking under the lash. The girls were allowed to spend two afternoons in the Jardin du Luxembourg in short dresses and sandals, accompanied by the inevitable Gemma, with Antoine waiting in the car. The cool air caressing Marina’s flogged buttocks made her cunt clench under the scant covering.

  The piercing took place without difficulty. The staff were efficacious with the sterilization and anaesthetizing of the relevant portions of flesh to be dealt with and the business was carried out deftly on a white operating table in silence, Claudia checking the rings were disinfected; saw them threaded through and immovably affixed with the clamping tool. All arrangements had been agreed upon beforehand and the only remark made during the time the girls spent there, came from the nurse who noticed the buttocks when it was Marina’s turn to strip for piercing. “Oh, good grief!” she commented, “They have whipped you well, haven’t they?” Marina blushed crimson like her nates.

  It took time for the slaves to grow accustomed to the presence and the strange, if unexacting, weight of the metal in their sensitive extremities. They felt no real discomfort when the anaesthesia wore off except occasionally in the nipples and clitoris hood but soon they were manipulating the rings with pride. The erotic effect the steel had on both girls provided them with a new source of excitement. They played with the shining, circles like youngsters with toys; the regular suckings they lavished on each other assumed a new dimension by enabling them to splay the vaginal labia wide open and even to tie back the lips with silk cords passed round the buttock crease. This lent itself to new sexual exploration and orgasms more delirious than ever before. They were proud to be ringed slaves. And Verena, while she masturbated her yearning lover, invented hallucinating fantasies, in which white-skinned, naked prostitutes, were hooked by their flesh-rings to flogging posts in the depths of Venetian prisons... Her tales brought forth staggeringly powerful orgasms and screams more akin to ses
sions in a torture cellar than in a Parisian bedroom.

  Claudia seemed more content than even they. She admired them continuously, snaring each girl in turn with her crooked finger to haul the body towards her or towards the library pillars around which she could now secure the nude by the rings elongating the pierced flesh. Mikhail agreed her initiative had been worthwhile. He began to derive pleasure by reducing the girls’ bondage to a single thong through the clit ring, watching them teetering on tiptoe, striving to safeguard the delicate hood. The rings embellished the slaves and heightened the erotic effect and cruelty of the regular flagellations.

  When the phone buzzed by her side, Claudia was sitting on the balcony, dappled with autumn sunlight flickering off the Seine. It was Juliette to enquire how the piercing had gone.

  Claudia was thrilled. That slightly hoarse voice always excited her. “Splendidly, Juliette. Thank you so much for the address.”

  “Listen, darling, talking of slaves, would you care to come down to our place in the Sologne this weekend? You remember I invited you that night when we met on the lakeside? Come to the Avenue Kleber for lunch on Saturday and I’ll show you my little town set-up. And you can meet my Tansu. Then we’ll all drive down and have some fun. I’m taking Tansu and my two slave handlers. There’ll be a couple of male slaves too who’re ‘en pension chez moi’ for a spell while their owners are abroad. It’ll be fun.”