The Pleasure Palace

by Caroline Swift

  The prospect of meeting at last the famous Tansu in itself made the occasion well worthwhile. And the chance of seeing Juliette’s set-up, as she termed it, was not to be missed.

  Claudia agreed at once. Mishka would take the exclusion in his stride; a weekend at home alone with Verena and Marina would please him.

  “So, Saturday around one, angel, “Juliette confirmed. “I’ll send the car for you. Ciao!”

  Juliette’s compelling personality seemed to linger on long after the phone went dead.

  After lunch and coffee the hostess invited her beautiful blonde guest to ‘peep’ at her cellar.

  “We’ll just take a glance, treasure. My Pipilotti and Johannes are busy packing Tansu and the males up for the journey but at least you’ll see my little dungeon at last.”

  Little? The confinement cellar was extensive. After a descent in the lift that, as so often in Paris, seemed to date back to Haussmann, Juliette opened a door at the end of a long passage. She used her own passkey. The place consisted of two chambers, the first room being a comfortable lounge, harmoniously furnished with high backed Henri IV chairs on magnificent carpets - Turkish like Tansu? Claudia wondered - and couches. The saffron-draped walls displayed elegantly framed scenes of slave torture: naked saints with suffering countenances turned heavenwards in ecstasy as the nipples or penises were wrenched with pincers; nubile maidens contorted in erotic writhings as they were flagellated in medieval surroundings by handsome youths with knotted sourges. Claudia readily identified the celebrated illustration from de Sade’s Justine (or was it, like her hostess, in Juliette?), depicting the deserted torture chamber with its pillars sporting razor-edged falchions, ropes, hooks...

  Juliette tinkled a silver bell, as if celebrating Mass. Instantly two silken-masked figures, practically naked, appeared from the archway leading from the adjoining room. Claudia caught her breath at the sleek build of the couple. They were like young athletes, the female somewhat older than the man.

  “Ah, there you are, you two,” Juliette said, kissing each lightly on the lace-covered cheek. “I trust we’re all set for departure. This is my friend Claudia, also a slave owner. Is Tansu ready? And the males?”

  The female, a tall, sinuous figure in latex tights, her thorax bridled in a latticework of straps, bowed gracefully and nodded, as her mistress introduced her.

  “This gorgeous creature, Claudia, is my Pipilotti.”

  The woman must be in her early thirties, alarmingly attractive but intimidating, almost frosty. A sheaf of thongs drooped from the belt, its corrugated, studded haft fashioned in the form of an erect penis. Claudia stared at the female’s well-combed flourish of pubic thatch, dyed bright turquoise; similarly tinted, the areoles allowed the swollen teats to emerge from silver cones armed with slender barbs like straightened fish hooks. Claudia made a note carefully to avoid having to embrace the slave mistress.

  The youth appeared somewhat less spine-chilling in his billowing silk blouse and jabot but most of his neat figure was also sheathed in clinging nylon, a triangular gash leaving his ponderous cock to hang loose, awaiting orders. A pad of sharp spikes strapped over the pubic mound promised scant pleasure for any slave he fucked. There too Claudia made point of steering clear of his sexual attentions. Below the lace mask, the lips were thin, almost a line that seemed to have forgotten how to smile.

  “And that’s Johannes,” the hostess added. “Now come and see my Tansu. I trust you’ve whipped her arse, Pipilotti dear, so that she has a really uncomfortable journey down.”

  “Yes, Madame la Comtesse, thirty lashes. An hour ago.”

  Juliette led the way into the next room, which was dark, overheated and L-shaped. Candles flickered over the stone walls and flagstones to reveal several pieces of apparatus of torture. In the centre, suspended by the wrists from a massive chain reaching down from a pulley in the arched ceiling, hung Juliette’s mythical piece of Turkish delight.

  Frankly, Claudia felt at first a trifle disillusioned. True, the body displayed a wealth of brown flesh of a certain elegance but Tansu was solidly built, big-boned and muscular, her assets however became clearer, as Juliette ran her hands over the flesh. The ringed breasts stood out like howitzer shells one sees on war memorials and were matched by the bulging, depilated sex with its jangling cluster of more rings than Claudia imagined the female genitals could hold; they dragged down the labia a couple of fingers’ breadth below the vulva. But what intrigued the visitor was the mauve and crimson tattoo representing barbed wire encircling the impressive hips; the design issued out of the sex slit, followed the groins up to and round the pelvis to disappear down the buttock crease into the rectum.

  The dark head of hair had been sheared short. The slave was indeed very special.

  “Goodness me, That’s something, Juliette. Really something,” Claudia had to concede finally as she strolled round the wealth of nude flesh. In profile the body indeed yielded its full attraction: the huge buttocks, not unlike Verena’s, Claudia saw, had been well flogged into scarlet welts; the powerful thighs, concave belly and erect contours of the breasts - it all added up to what Juliette evidently fancied: ample meat available for use, a stamina capable of holding out under whatever Juliette did to the girl. Claudia tried to picture the torrid sessions inflicted on Tansu by her proprietor or by the slave handlers in front of Juliette watching from a throne...

  “Does she scream a great deal?” she asked for something plausible to say and admiring the marks of the recent flagellation

  “Scream? Never, darling. Just moans delightfully. She hankers after punishment and the fiercer the better. She’s been trained and conditioned by her former owners in Istanbul to a degree you can’t imagine. The more ingenious the torture, the more incredibly responsive her feedback.”

  Juliette slapped the girl’s udders hard. “Right, Tansu?”

  The shorn head nodded.

  “You see, she doesn’t speak much, first because she doesn’t understand a thing and secondly because she has an impediment. Stick your whore’s tongue out, Tansu, to show my friend.”

  Again Juliette slapped the breasts hard and made them roll and ripple.

  Claudia gasped as the mouth opened and the tongue came out; through it was pierced a circle of stainless steel. It clinked once on the teeth and was withdrawn.

  “I’ll you her story on the drive down,” Juliette said. “But now, we’ve got to get a move on. Release her, Pipilotti, and cloak them all up. You five will travel in the van, and see she and the others are tied tight,”

  The journey to the Sologne residence, driven by an obsequious chauffeur, proved more delightful than Claudia had expected. The car took the two elegant women along pleasant secondary roads under the shade of the plane trees as evening began to close in. Some respectable way behind, the grey van with its pair of cloaked servants and triad of slaves, bound and gagged, followed with Pipilotti at the wheel.

  “Now, about Tansu,” Claudia’s hostess said, remembering her promise. “Well, I grew tired of Veronique. We both needed a change. So I sold her off. Then I heard of a slave auction taking place in Turkey, so off Marcus and I went in his new yacht and stayed at the best hotel in Istanbul, the one looking out over the Bosphorus.

  “We contacted the sellers and they drove us out into the country to a rather shabby, run-down place. But the harem quarters were stiff with slaves for sale or leasing, females and males of all sorts. They were arranged on their knees, heavily chained, round a steaming pool where we were invited to bathe. Delightful, darling. The slaves were kept alert by servants in baggy, harem pants and turbans, armed with bamboos and malacca canes. I saw this Tansu girl straightaway among the others, her thighs splayed wide to show her mass of sex rings - she has ten of them, by the way. I knew the size of the breasts and buttocks was just right and I pointed to her from the pool. A turnkey whipped her to her feet a
nd we saw the whole of her stupendous body, barbed wire tattoo and all. Of course Marcus wanted to see all the other pieces but I’d decided. So we bid and got her. Expensive but worth every dollar or whatever my sweet Marcus paid.”

  “And how does one ship a naked slave back to Paris from the banks of the Bosphorus? Air freight, fragile, this side up?”

  “But, darling, we had Marcus’s big yacht. I used to tie Tansu to the mast and whip her solidly before having her service us down in the lounge. She slept in the hold, tied up like a mainsail. Great voyage, and was she beautiful, staked out naked on the deck, all suntanned!. And here she is.”

  The car had turned down a sandy drive, overhung with oaks. Far more than the simple weekend shooting lodge Claudia had expected, the gabled house stood between lawns, kennels and outhouses, sheltered amid firs. Here and there sounded the croak of the pheasants Marcus raised for shoots in season.

  Several servants welcomed their august employer: maids in starched aprons and valets with striped waistcoats. Claudia was conducted to her room where she unpacked her lone toothbrush. Then she looked out over the purple heather and the dense Solognat woods and below she caught sight of the tethered slaves being hustled into a side door.

  The dinner served rustically in the beam-ceilinged salle a manger, surrounded with boars’ heads on shields of wood, proved a delight. The fare of fricassee de poulet was a treat, the Loire wine nicely chambre and Juliette in corduroy breeches, riding boots and a silk shirt that showed much of her bosom. The three slaves ate in the gunroom, chained to the bench by their cocks and Tansu by her clit ring.

  Juliette summoned Joel, the gamekeeper and told him to have the slaves presented at nine, refreshments to be served at ten.

  “Now, down to business, sweet one.” her hostess announced after the cognac. “I don’t know how you want to appear but there’s my private wardrobe on the first landing, full of body straps, tights, cloaks, boots, what have you. Select what you want. Some of my colleagues prefer to be nude. Do as you usually do. Wear a mask if you want to look medieval and very cruel!”

  Claudia chose a sleeveless leather waistcoat, long, pale purple gloves and a hip belt of black leather. To it, she clipped a thin whip of several thongs, after fingering through the vast array of alternatives. She decided to keep her high heel shoes but the idea of stockings appalled her.

  “Claudia darling, you look simple divine,” came the compliment from her hostess, superb in thigh-high boots. Abruptly, the blonde visitor realized she had, of course, never stood as she was, cunt bare, before Juliette. She admitted to herself that even that stimulated her.

  “Now, I’m going to give you Tansu to whip, hung by the breasts and I want to watch. Then you can work on the males, if you wish. I’m a great one for a stiff, circumcised cock and a dangling sack of balls throttled at the root with a steel clasp. I can bring a male off with a quirt, you know, before you can say Torquemada!”

  Claudia knew she was out of her depth. “Well, I’d love to whip your Tansu, if that’s all right, Juliette,” she murmured. “I rather go for females as a matter of fact.”

  The prospect of slave whipping in this house hidden in the woods sent loads of sap oozing out of Claudia; the vaginal gutter under the flaxen triangle of hair was responding fully. She knew she was very beautiful under her leather waistcoat and needed to show her body in action.

  Under the vacuous gaze of the antlered deer and a chamois Marcus had shot on the Jalouve in the Haute-Savoie, they entered the chamber.

  As Pipilotti bowed ceremoniously, Claudia gazed round the room. Several whipping stakes rose to the rafters and beyond, the trestles, on two of which were bound the male slaves. Prostrated backward, chained by the wrists and ankles, the nude bodies exposed their tensed cocks, throbbing vertically from the curved loins; the stem of the flaccid scrotum was crammed into a broad circle of steel, and that had been screwed very tight.

  Then Claudia saw Tansu. Her wrists bound behind to a throat strap, she hung by the roots of her breasts, swaying from the chain supporting her superb body and the ropes encircling the mammaries. A steel spreader bar parted the legs to the extent the hip joints would permit without dislocation and the mass of cunt rings dangled like iron fruit on a tree. The body shimmered with oil, Pipilotti still holding the jar from which she had anointed the slave. A silence seemed to freeze the room like an old photograph.

  “She’s all yours, Claudia, love. She’s waiting for her daily punishment...” Juliette spread herself out on a chair to watch.

  Disconcerted, Claudia felt the handle of her whip slither in her grasp and wiped it in a fold of her waistcoat. Then she let fly across the lower belly. It welted easily but Tansu barely moved. She delivered a couple of dozen lashes, back and front, watching the nude sway under the thuds, but failing to get even a groan from the girl. A dozen more hard strokes and still the slave swung in silence.

  “She’s quite something,” she repeated her initial compliment, sensing she was in the eye of a storm she could not fully control.

  “She certainly is,” Juliette assented. “but she warrants more than that. What about her huge arse, Claudia? Lay into it, that’s if you want to... If you can make her scream, I’ll give her to you for the night and that’ll really wear your clit and nipples out.”

  “But she’s been welted already there, Juliette,” the blonde murmured, thoroughly intimidated by the slave’s stoicism

  “All right, darling. Just leave her to me. And you give those cocks a load of the quirt. And when you’re done, let Pipilotti bring them off. They deserve it, I suppose.”

  As Juliette rose and approached her slave, Claudia accepted the leather quirt from Pipilotti’s hand, the slave handler giving her a look of disdain.

  No expert in whipping cock, Claudia hesitated. Then she struck into the rigid shaft, watching it slap back on to the belly and revert to its tumescent erection. She lashed backwards and forwards until the rod was crimson, bulging with pulsing veins. The victim groaned but took it admirably, Claudia thought. Then, after a score of cuts, Pipilotti stepped forward and grabbed the engorged cock in her leather and - Claudia guessed - studded grasp. Only a dozen fist-tight caresses up and down the bloated shaft sufficed; the slit spewed out its spunk high in the air, the cum slapping into and covering the youth’s chest and belly. Claudia watched the huge organ subside between the thighs and shrink.

  Meanwhile, Juliette had ferociously whipped her favourite into frenzy, helped by Johannes who twisted the girl’s nipples, swollen under the throttling and tension, with a pair of breast pincers. Then a touch of the same steel on the clit sent the slave into violent orgasm. Jerking maniacally on her breast bondage, she came with the roar of a wild animal.

  No one seemed to pay particular attention to the massive climax nor to the breasts beginning to turn dark purple under their garrotting.

  “Relieve that slave over there,” Juliette ordered hoarsely, ignoring Tansu and pointing with her whip to the other male slave. “He’s ready to come. Let him spurt.”

  Johannes obeyed immediately by seizing the huge prick in a pair of cock tongs and elongating the shaft with violent jerks. The spunk gushed out of the bloated glans like an Icelandic geyser, arching over almost to where Juliette stood watching the performance.

  “Now for some refreshments, darlings,” announced the mistress of ceremonies.

  Marguerite trotted in, oblivious of the scenario and the sperm anointing her floor, to place the food and drinks on the table. The chilled Chablis revived Claudia who was feeling sorely taxed by the need of orgasm after the excitement. As she tried to relax and enjoy the wine, she saw Juliette signal to Johannes to shift a chair so she could be close to her. The older woman ran her hand through the blonde hair that had lost its velvet bow.

  “Well, there you are, Claudia. You saw Tansu - no inhibitions. Unconditional. Pure sex. That’s
why I love her. But now, you, darling, you need your orgasm. I give you a choice, as you’re a guest. You can either have Johannes to fuck you right now - he’ll have Pipilotti all night anyway - or you can come to bed with me and Tansu when we retire. I really don’t know you well enough sexually yet, you see.’

  The hand smoothing her thigh, the nails grazing the engorged clit, tempted Claudia; but the prospect of bed with the whipped Tansu and her mistress together suffocated her. And Juliette sensed it. Brusquely, she called over the handsome Johannes.

  “Fuck this gorgeous woman and make it good,” she ordered. “On the mattress over there,” she pointed to one of the many beddings on the floor which Claudia had guessed were for precisely that function.

  The young man kissed Claudia’s hand and led her to the far side of the room.

  Rarely, even with Mishka or her former lovers, had she had such sex. It was not entirely to the credit of the young man’s cock; the session had involved her in such a maelstrom of excitement that any cock would have sufficed Claudia simply let go and died the death.

  No sooner was her third orgasm complete than Juliette came over to where she was lying exhausted on the mat. The dark eyes looked into the blue.

  “Ready for more?”

  The party eventually wound down slowly after all the actors had had their fill. Even Claudia had had a moment - she could not remember at what point - with Pipilotti and the older of the male slaves who, unchained from the trestle, had taken Claudia while she leaned against it. Juliette continued with her Tansu to the very end; she seemed incapable of separatng herself from the Turk. At last released from the breast ropes, she leant over her mistress’s crotch and did her service.

  Finally, all passion spent, the group broke up. Physically and emotionally exhausted, she climbed the stairs and, too tired even to sponge away the residues of the evening, slumped into the huge bed and fell asleep.

  The hand that later curled round her breast woke her not suddenly but gradually. The spicy, pungent smell of the body sliding into the bed immediately identified Tansu. Claudia felt the girl’s lap close up against her bottom, the sex rings cold and strange on her. Then, half awake, she turned towards the slave girl and let her hands rove hazily over the strong body, her fingertips feeling the rope furrows at the root of the breasts and the whip welts ridging the rump and much more of the slave besides.