The Ultimate Submission (Jacqueline's Story)
By Gato Medio

Chapter 8

[Fashion Model]

Being with Ramon was a wonderful experience. He shared
with me his interest for music, the arts, good food and
most of all his worship for the female body. He made me
feel like a fully grown, mature woman, like the only
woman in the world. His attention, his gentleness, his
generosity made me want to give myself to him in any
possible way. And when he fucked me - although he rarely
used this term; he preferred to say we were making love -
I wanted time to stand still, wanted the experience to
last forever.

It was Saturday morning, but I had no notion how early or
late it was. I didn't need to. All I knew was that I
would be spending this and the following day in the
company of Ramon, until he would deliver me back to my
parents on Sunday evening. I was lying on the 'altar', as
Ramon had christened the bed on the raised platform,
because it was a place of offerings and worship: I
offered myself to him and he worshipped me.

I was in that marvellous state where one is no longer
asleep but not yet awake, when one is at peace with the
world, when everything around one is perceived as through
a soothing mist.

I was somehow aware that there was a third person present
in the room. I didn't know how much or how little of me
was covered and I didn't particularly mind if Ramon's
visitor saw all or none of my charms. I vaguely
remembered Ramon telling me that Alain would come by to
discuss business, but had assured me that it wouldn't
take long. The two men had worked together on some
project that I didn't know much about, and had become
friends.

Alain had indicated that he might be able to help Ramon
find a financial backer for his ambitious plan of
launching a range of sexy lingerie under his own designer
label. Ramon was showing Alain drawings and some finished
pieces of the collection he was creating. Alain was
impressed but wanted to see the garments on a live model.
Ramon, a little disappointed, said in this case it would
have to wait until next week when he could ask some
models he knew for a favour.

Alain pointed in the direction of the bed and asked, "Do
you think we could ask your girlfriend?"

Ramon hesitated, then said, "I can give it a try."

I hadn't paid much attention to their conversation but
had caught enough of the last few sentences to know what
Ramon wanted when he kissed me gently and said, "Good
morning, darling."

I hugged him and said, "Come back to bed, it's so lonely
without you."

He promised that he would join me soon and asked if I
would do him a big favour. I looked at the garment in his
hand. I couldn't quite make out what it was, but it
looked very sexy. I whined a little and mumbled something
about a girl not being allowed a little rest after a hard
night of love-making, but then I put on the garment which
turned out to be a very sexy teddy.

I wanted to make it quite clear that I was not pleased.
Expecting me to get up without having had a cock, a
tongue or even a finger in my pussy was no way of
treating me. I was sure the Convention of Human Rights
had something to say about that. As I walked towards
Alain, dressed in the teddy, I put on the sleepiest face
I could manage, which combined very well with my unkempt
hair and my pout.

Alain's eyes widened. "My God, this is fantastic!" he
exclaimed. He quickly corrected himself. "My God, you
look fantastic."

The teddy was made of an exquisitely light textile which
clung to my body like a second skin. It was almost
transparent but had been hand-painted with a motive which
resembled a Japanese landscape painting. The pubic region
contained a number of shrubs and trees to mask the
transparency of the fabric. Likewise, the part covering
my breasts showed a group of birds in flight,
camouflaging my nipples and areolas. This sexy creation
showed everything but revealed nothing.

Alain got very excited about it. "I've got to take some
pictures to show them to Michel," he proclaimed, adding,
"if that's alright with you," when he noticed my frown.

Ramon got one of his cameras and Alain started to take
pictures of me. First standing, then sitting on a chair,
with my legs crossed, with my legs uncrossed, full
frontal, in profile, with one arm raised as if I was
trying to arrange my hair. I was amazed how many
different poses he could think of.

After the chair came the bed. They arranged a pile of
cushions on which I could recline. Alain complimented me
on how well I could play the 'sleepy-eyed disgruntled
brat' role and suggested I should try a few other facial
expressions, like seductive, innocent or seductively
innocent. He acted like a film director spurring on his
star actress to a memorable performance. When Ramon
mentioned the fact that there was a wall of mirrors
hidden behind the wall cover, Alain went really wild. He
had me lie on my belly, one foot up in the air, and look
at the mirror. He took a snap of me looking seductively
at own my image in the mirror.

After a while Alain asked if there was something else I
could model. Ramon went away to look for something
suitable. In the meantime I took off the teddy and for a
few moments I stood there, completely naked, right in
front of Alan, a man I had only met half an hour ago. I
guess I will never manage to be indifferent to this kind
of situation where I'm completely exposed to a man's
eyes. It made my skin tingle with excitement and my
nipples hardened.

Ramon came back with a slip, or maybe it's better to call
it a half-slip. It was held up by spaghetti straps, and
reached only half way down my thighs, barely covering the
essentials. The colour of the new garment was deepest
burgundy which combined very well with my brunette hair
and complexion. It wasn't transparent as the teddy had
been but anyone looking at a woman dressed in this slip
would automatically start fantasising about what lay
beneath it - and then want to check if the reality
matched his imagination.

Alain took pictures of me in various positions and poses,
just as he had done with me wearing the teddy. As I was
lying on my belly, looking at myself in the mirror, an
air current caught the thin fabric and lifted it up,
revealing part of my bottom. Alain got ecstatic. "That's
marvellous. Why didn't I think of that?"

Then he suggested we'd do some 'erotic' shots. I asked
him what he meant by 'erotic'.

"Well, slightly revealing, seductive, nothing dirty," he
answered.

He took a picture of me reclining on a pile of cushions,
apparently sleeping, where one strap had slipped off my
shoulder, revealing a nipple. Ramon was in charge of
arranging the partial undressing while Alain gave
directions.

"A little lower! Just a little more! Hold it there!
That's it. Fantastic!"

In the next shot the hem of the slip had accidentally
ridden up, revealing my pussy, with one of my hands
suggestively resting on my thigh.

For the next setting I had to take off the slip
completely and hold it to my cheek, my face slightly
inclined sideways, as if to feel its softness. The rest
of the garment was hanging down the middle of my body,
bunched together, covering my pussy as if by accident. My
breasts were hidden behind my arms which were holding the
slip to my face. The only part of my body the picture
revealed was my bottom which was reflected in the mirror
behind me. It was a wonderful picture, so innocent, yet
so hot.

I asked what was going to happen to these pictures. I
didn't want them to get into the wrong hands. I didn't
want to see them published in some sleazy magazine or
posted on the internet. I didn't want them to fall into
my father's hands.

Alain noticed from the tone of my voice that this was
important to me. He assured me that the only person to
see these pictures would be Michel, Ramon's potential
backer. He wanted to know why I was so concerned about
who got to see them. There wasn't anything indecent or
obscene about them. They were just very sensual pictures
of an attractive woman showing off sexy lingerie.

"I don't want my father to call me a slut," I explained.

There was more on my mind than my father's unfavourable
judgement of my behaviour. I was still a few weeks away
from my eighteenth birthday and I was sure he would
prosecute anyone involved with these pictures, accusing
them of corrupting a minor, producing child pornography
and whatever other crimes he could find.

Alain had used a digital camera so we were able to see
the results immediately. When I saw myself on Ramon's
large TV screen, I really felt like a famous fashion
model or film star. Alain must have read my thoughts,
because he suggested I take up a career as a model. He
thought I had both the talent and the necessary figure to
make a big splash.

Ramon didn't agree. He advised against giving up my
studies for an uncertain future as a model. Besides, he
said, it would be throwing pearls before the swine.

"You are an egoist," Alain exclaimed, "you want to have
her only for yourself. Whatever happened to socialism?
Down with private ownership of women! The working masses
have the right to be devastated by this beauty."

After Alain had left, Ramon said, "Don't hold his remarks
against him. Alain has a very difficult job. You have no
idea how many beautiful girls approach him every week and
offer to do anything he wants, just to get a chance to
audition for the chamber girls."

"I wouldn't have thought that he'd consider that a
problem."

"No, that isn't the problem. The problem is that he lives
by very strict rules. He doesn't mix business with
pleasure. He won't touch any of the girls who work for
him."

"Well, I'm glad you don't have this problem. I'm horny as
hell," I said, embracing him and tugging on the zipper of
his trousers. I made it clear that I expected a
compensation for having been made to work that early in
the morning. And I wanted to be paid in hard currency -
the one he carried between his legs.

                         -----

Men are so predictable, so transparent, even when they
try to hide their real intentions! When Ramon met me at
the railway station the following Friday, he carried a
huge bunch of flowers which he handed to me after we had
hugged and kissed. There didn't seem to be any logic in
this. I was arriving to spend the weekend at his
apartment and I sure wasn't going to take those flowers
back to Villiers with me. So why didn't he just put the
flowers into a nice vase in his apartment and present
them to me as we got there. The answer was that he either
felt guilty about something and wanted to achieve my
forgiveness, or he was going to ask for a special favour
and wanted to put me in a positive frame of mind with his
gift.

He had only phoned me once, on Thursday night, to confirm
our arrangements for the weekend and apologized for not
having called more often, explaining that he had been
very busy. That wasn't something which needed my pardon.
So, as I thanked him for the flowers, I wondered what his
special request would be.

He didn't come straight out with his request. I had to
wait for some time until I found out what it was. He
didn't mention anything unusual during our meal in a cosy
Vietnamese restaurant. When we got to his apartment,
Ramon undressed me, carried me to the 'altar' and made
love to me in a very sweet and tender way. Afterwards,
with his cock still inside me but rapidly shrinking, he
said, "Remember those pictures Alain took of you last
weekend?"

He tried to sound casual but didn't quite manage.

"I remember them well. What happened?"

Apparently, Alain had talked to Michel, the potential
sponsor, the following Monday and showed him the
photographs along with the clothes I was wearing in those
pictures. Michel had been on the phone to Ramon the same
evening, asking him to come and see him to present his
entire collection the next day. And to bring the model
who featured in the pictures with him. Ramon had
explained that the woman in those photographs wasn't a
model but his girlfriend but he would gladly arrange
another model for the meeting.

Michel had answered, 'I don't care if the model is your
girlfriend or your girlfriend is the model, I want her
and nobody else. Otherwise there's no deal'. Ramon
realized that this request was not subject to
negotiation, but explained that his girlfriend did not
live in Paris and was only available on weekends.

'In that case', Michel had said, 'we'll do it in my home.
That way my wife can join us and we also get a woman's
point of view. Shall we say Saturday at 2 pm. And don't
make any plans for the rest of the day.'

So there it was. Ramon had made a commitment involving me
without asking me first. He felt guilty about that but he
was obviously keen on the opportunity. He told me that if
for whatever reason I felt I didn't want to do it, I
should just say it and he would cancel the appointment.

"No, my love," I said, "of course, I'll do it for you.
I'm yours."

I found Michel's insistence that it had to be me and not
any other model a little strange and asked Ramon, "Do you
think he wants something from me?"

Ramon paused. "I hadn't thought of it that way. From what
Alain told me about Michel, he's a shrewd businessman, a
tough negotiator, but I don't think he's into raping
little girls."

I slapped him. I hated it when he called me a little
girl. I thought I had proven to him often enough that I
was a woman.

"Besides," Ramon added after he had recovered from my
blow, "he said his wife would be there as well. So I
don't think there is any danger. But in any case, if
there's anything you don't like, just say it and we'll
leave."

I was determined to do whatever necessary to help Ramon
realize his dream. I couldn't imagine anything that might
make me want to break up the meeting.

"Do you know what name I have chosen for my brand of
ladies' fashion?"

I didn't know.

"'_Vous êtes très jolie_' by Ramon," he said.

I was flattered. Those were the first words he spoke to
me when we met, not such a long time ago, at '_Le Club_'
in Villiers.

"Every woman wearing my lingerie should be able to say
that to her image in the mirror. And every man fortunate
enough to see a woman in her underwear by Ramon should
say it, before saying anything else."

We spent the night making love in a very romantic, almost
dream-like way.

The following morning we planned our little fashion show.
Ramon had been busy arranging the garments I was going to
wear according to a number of themes, from
'conservative', and 'romantic' to 'daring' and 'slutty'.
There was even a 'bridal' theme, presenting his
suggestion of what a bride should wear under her wedding
dress. I didn't have any plans to get married - I still
don't - but this outfit made me think twice. Except, I
imagined getting married in these clothes without any
wedding dress on top.

Ramon told me which mood each of the sets was supposed to
represent and gave me hints on how to emphasise that mood
by my facial expression, gestures or my way of walking.
In some cases the outfit consisted of two layers of
clothes and we rehearsed the best moment for shedding the
top layer.

After so much preparation I felt pretty confident that I
was going to put on a show they wouldn't forget so soon,
but when we arrived at the address Michel had given to
Ramon, my heart sank. What was a girl like me doing in a
place like this?

The impressions piled on top of each other. There was the
man at the ornamental wrought-iron gate who checked our
names against a list of expected visitors. There was the
gravel driveway taking us through meticulously looked-
after gardens to the steps leading to the mansion There
was the chauffeur who helped us retrieve our bags from
the boot of the car and then took care of parking it
behind some hedges for us. There was the butler who led
us to the room where Monsieur and Madame Meunier were
expecting us. And there was the mansion itself.

We didn't get a guided tour of the property but the small
part we saw made me feel like a snotty-nosed girl who had
intruded into a wealthy man's property in order to
retrieve a ball and was now standing in front of that
man, having to explain what on earth she was doing here.

Michel Meunier and his wife Roxanne were extremely
pleasant and did their best to make us feel at ease. He
told us to call him simply Michel and his wife preferred
to be called Roxy. She was a redhead - her head sported
the reddest copper-curls I had ever seen - which made me
give her my own nickname: Foxy Lady.

Michel looked very much how I had expected, except that
he was younger than I had imagined. I guessed he was
forty, give or take a couple of years. Even though he was
dressed casually, he couldn't hide the fact that he was a
businessman through and through. He had a square, closely-
shaven face with an energetic lower jaw. He gave me the
impression of someone who is used to hearing 'Yes, Sir.
No, Sir. Certainly, Sir. Sorry, Sir.' and never any
disagreement.

I'm not very good at estimating the age of women and
Roxanne was a particularly difficult case. All I could
say is that she probably was quite a bit older than she
looked and that she spent a lot of time and money on
looking younger than she really was. Anything between 25
and 45 seemed possible.

After we had exchanged the usual niceties and the butler
had served drinks, Roxy showed me to her bedroom which
was going to serve as my changing room. She asked if I
wanted her maid to help me change from one outfit into
another.

I looked at the girl. She seemed to be about my age, very
shy and probably very obedient. I imagined that she
helped Roxanne into and out of her clothes. Seeing a
woman without clothes was probably part of her daily
routine. The idea of having this girl help me take off
and put on Ramon's sexy underwear opened up the
perspective for many exciting fantasies, including some
resulting in the seduction of the poor innocent girl. But
I had come here to help Ramon, not to enjoy myself, so I
declined the offer.

As I arranged the clothes in the sequence in which I was
going to model them on the large bed, I had a look around
the room. The wall behind the bed was one large mirror -
quite convenient for checking myself before going out. In
front of the mirror, both on the floor and hanging from
the ceiling, I noticed some loops and other fittings
which I didn't quite understand. I assumed they had
something to do with Roxy's fitness programme - I was
sure she worked out regularly - and left it at that.

I still felt a little out of place when I started the
fashion show. Luckily, the first sets were more
conservative, less revealing. I would walk diagonally
across the long room to the corner where Michel, Roxanne
and Ramon were sitting, stand there for a few moments to
let them have a good look, do a few turns so they could
see me from every angle, and then saunter back.

I soon grew more confident when I realized that Michel
and Roxanne liked what they saw - and I don't mean only
the clothes I was displaying. Ramon's face also showed
that he was pleased. Just like me, they liked the bridal
wear very much. Roxanne commented that she'd like to get
married again. Michel said they would have to get
divorced first and asked Ramon jokingly if he'd also
designed something appropriate for a divorce.

The last theme in the show was called 'red light
district'. Ramon had indicated that we would only show
this one if he thought the mood was right. I had checked
his face and he had nodded, so I put on the outfit which
consisted of a quarter cup bra which didn't cover
anything but just pushed my breasts up so that my nipples
pointed straight at whoever happened to be in front of
me, a suspender belt, silk stockings and miniscule lacy
panties. Everything except the stockings was in screaming
red. Ramon had suggested that I wear an equally
scandalous red lipstick and put some rouge on my nipples
to heighten the sluttish effect.

The outfit was really stunning and it got everybody's
attention as soon as I entered the room. I looked at
Michel with a seductive, inviting smile but then I
thought this might get me into trouble with Roxanne and I
gave her the same look. I hadn't expected her to react.
My heart started to pound fast as she got up from her
chair, approached me and put one hand inside my panties.

"Look Michel," she said, "how wonderfully soft this
material is. It feels like velvet." She moved her fingers
up and down. She wasn't checking the softness of the
textile but the wetness of my pussy. I didn't know what
to say or do.

Michel said, "No, thanks. Maybe another time." Then he
added, "Why don't you take Jacqueline to your room and
check it out more thoroughly. I've got some serious
business to talk with our friend here. You'd only get
bored."

I was thrilled to hear that Michel wanted to talk
business with Ramon. This was a good sign. Roxanne's hand
was digging deeper into my panties, one finger was now
inserted into my slit. I was sure that the men saw what
was going on, but if they knew, they didn't let on.
Roxanne put one arm around my shoulders. I heard her say
'Thank you, Sir' to Michel. Then she turned me around and
marched me back to her bedroom without removing her hand
from my pussy.

As soon as we entered her room, Roxanne used the arm
around my shoulders to turn me around, facing her and
gave me a deep kiss, her tongue invading my mouth. Her
other hand was still in my panties, one finger lodged
inside my pussy. She pushed me back towards the mirror
wall until I could feel the cool glass against my back.

Then, in a surprisingly quick move, she pulled her hand
out of my panties, grabbed both my wrists, lifted my arms
up and secured them in two of the loops that were
suspended from the ceiling. I didn't know what to make of
this. What on earth was she doing? Next, she bent down,
removed my panties and attached my ankles to rings fitted
in the floor. She gave me another deep kiss and said,
"Hang on a moment, sweetie, I'll be back in a second."

She left me there, half standing, half hanging, my legs
slightly apart, and disappeared into an adjoining room.

Disconnected thoughts raced through my mind. What exactly
were her intentions? Did I have reason to get worried?
Was this her revenge for me having flirted with her
husband? My mind went back to the conversation with Ramon
the day before. "I don't think he's into raping little
girls," Ramon had said about Michel. Maybe his wife was?

When Roxanne returned she was completely naked except for
a strange contraption she wore around her hips. It didn't
take me long to realize that this was a strap-on dildo,
something I had read about and seen pictures of, but had
so far not encountered in real life. The sight of a woman
with an artificial penis protruding from below her belly
was strange, but it somehow aroused me. Her intentions
were clear. She was going to fuck me like a man. What
would it feel like? She came towards me, the plastic
phallus swaying in front of her.

"Don't worry, darling, you're going to enjoy this."

I wasn't able to move. She kissed me once more; deep,
desiring, bewitching. Her hands moved down my body,
caressing my breasts, rubbing my nipples, running down my
sides and then behind me to reach my bottom, squeezing my
bottom cheeks. Then they found my pussy. One finger went
inside. She noticed my wetness.

"You're looking forward to this, aren't you?" she
whispered into my ear.

The plastic cock felt strange, inhuman. I gasped as she
thrust it deep inside me. Her hips moved back and forth,
first slowly, then gathering speed. I could feel her
excitement mount, her breathing get louder. I realized
that the dildo stimulated her as well as me. Every thrust
brought her closer to orgasm. Her desire took control of
her. She fucked me hard and fast, fucking herself at the
same time. Then she came with a loud sigh of fulfilment.

'Just like a man,' I thought, 'she didn't wait for me.' I
hoped this wouldn't be the end. I wanted more. I could
think of many things I wanted to do to this sensual
redhead.

I said, "Let's move to the bed. It's much more
comfortable there."

She looked at me approvingly. I hadn't struggled or
screamed for help, I hadn't complained or begged her not
to do such a thing to me. And, apparently, I wanted more.

"Your right, darling, let's move to the bed." She undid
the catches which restrained my arms and legs, put one
arm around my shoulders and lead me to the bed. She
motioned me to get on all fours and entered me from
behind. The smooth plastic shaft slid inside my waiting
pussy. Her hands found my breasts, caressed my nipples.
Her hips picked up speed, moving faster, thrusting deeper
with each stroke. She whispered sweet nothings into my
ear, telling me what a juicy little cunt I had, what a
cute ass, what beautiful tits, what sensitive nipples;
encouraging me to enjoy myself. I did. I forgot about the
strangeness of the situation. I encouraged her to fuck me
hard, pushing my rear back to meet her thrusting hips. We
encouraged and stimulated each other. And finally, we
both came with loud moans of pleasure.

Roxanne removed the dildo and lay on her back, her legs
spread. I could see that she was a true redhead. Her
pussy was covered with the same curly-smooth copper wire
as her head. She offered me the dildo, inviting me to
fuck her. I looked at her toy. There was a second penis
which the woman wearing the dildo inserted into her own
pussy. With every thrust the fucking woman stimulated
herself as well as her partner. It looked tempting.

Roxanne was disappointed when I declined the offer.

"I've never done this before," I said, "I'm afraid that
it won't be very good for you the first time around - and
I want it to be good for you. I'll do something else I
know you're going to enjoy."

She looked at me in anticipation. I climbed on top of
her, pressing my still half-dressed body against her
nakedness. I kissed her. Her face, her lips, her neck,
her shoulders, her firm round breasts, her nipples, hard
as pebbles, her belly and finally her pussy. Her moans
started when my mouth touched her pubic mound - and
didn't stop until much later, when I finally collapsed,
exhausted, with my face buried between her thighs.

The Foxy Lady's pussy tasted of vanilla and was extremely
sensitive to the lightest touch. I let my tongue run wild
through the folds of her labia. My mouth discovered the
hiding place of her clitoris and I took it hostage
between my lips. I licked her slit and was rewarded with
a rich flow of her juices. I made her writhe and squirm
as I stabbed my tongue deep into her love hole and had to
pin her down so she wouldn't wriggle out of reach. Oh,
what a joy it was to make love to this woman who did not
hold back and let me know with so much enthusiasm how
much she appreciated every move I made. Her orgasms,
announced by unmistakable gasps, made my own pussy cream
in sympathy.

"That was absolutely wonderful!" Roxanne said after her
breathing and heartbeat had returned to normal.
"Jacqueline, you have a magic tongue! This was worth
getting punished for."

"Punished?" I asked, wondering if I had understood
correctly.

"Oh yes," she confirmed, "raping a guest is a punishable
offence. And there's probably a rule about behaving so
wantonly."

"But who's to know? I won't tell anybody."

"Michel will find out. I can't keep anything from him."

"So he's the one who punishes you. How?" There were so
many questions I wanted to ask.

"He spanks me. His hand on my bare bottom. Sometimes he
also uses his belt." There wasn't any sign of fear in her
voice.

"You almost sound like you're looking forward to it," I
observed. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Only in the beginning. When my bottom gets hot, so do I.
And he gets very excited too. Afterwards he fucks me like
a wild man, like an animal. It's fantastic. I'm sure
you're going to love it."

I started to get alarmed. "What do you mean, '_I_ am
going to love it'?" I asked. If she enjoyed having her
backside thrashed, that was her choice. I had no
intention of getting involved.

"Well, you've committed at least one punishable offence:
making love to me without his permission. You won't get
away without punishment for this."

I grew apprehensive, but she spoke with so much
enthusiasm about the feeling of helplessness and
vulnerability, about being at the mercy of the punisher,
that I started to get interested and agreed to give it a
try.

We showered together to wash off our perspiration and any
other traces our love session may have left behind. Then
she asked me if I had a spare set of the 'red light
district' outfit that she could wear. I managed to find
one and she put it on, except the panties. She told me to
wear the same outfit but also leave the panties off. "One
of the things which Michel enjoys most is looking at a
spankable bottom, framed by a suspender belt. Today, he's
going to see two of them."

When we rejoined the men they had finished their
negotiations and were drinking brandy from big snifters
to celebrate the outcome of their discussions. We walked
side by side, with our arms around each other's shoulders
towards the two men, displaying our pussies and tits, as
if this was part two of the fashion show. When we reached
the place where Michel was sitting we turned around to
show him our backsides. Then we bent down to give him an
even better look.

When we had returned to an upright position and were
facing Michel and Ramon, Roxy said, "We have behaved
badly, Sir, and deserve to be punished."

Michel's face lit up, while Ramon clearly didn't know
what was going on.

"What do you want to confess?" Michel asked.

"Raping a guest, Sir."

"You _raped_ Jacqueline?" His voice was like thunder.

"Yes, Sir. I fucked her with my dildo."

"And did she enjoy it?"

"I think so, Sir."

"Do you want to confess anything else?"

"Yes, Sir. Wantonness."

"Be more specific."

"She licked my pussy and I came and came. I thought my
orgasms would never end. It was wonderful."

"That's very serious. Anything else?"

"No, Sir."

"You'll get a double-fifty. Your punishment will start as
soon as I'm finished with this young lady here."

"Ouch."

"What did you say?"

"I said 'Thank you, Sir', Sir"

Michel turned to me. "You made love to my wife?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" he growled.

"Yes, Sir."

"And did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, Sir. Very much."

"So what do you think I should do about this?"

"Nothing, Sir."

"So you think you can walk in here, make love to my wife,
behind my back, and I do 'nothing'! If you were a man I'd
have you castrated. So you think, just because you're an
attractive young lady, I'll let you get away with it?"

"No, Sir."

"So you agree that you deserve a punishment?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you want me to spank your bare bottom?"

"Yes, please, Sir."

"Alright then. I won't be too harsh on you because it's
your first offence. You get 25 on your bare bottom."

"Thank you, Sir."

Deep down inside I knew that this was only a role play,
but Michel had been so stern-faced and had spoken with so
much firm authority that I did indeed feel like I was
going to get the punishment I deserved for my misdeed.
Throughout the exchange I had stood there with my hands
behind my back, my head bowed, looking at the carpet in
front of me, not daring to look him in the face.

He called Roxy to him. She draped herself over his knee,
supporting herself with her hands on the floor, so that
her bottom was sticking up in the air, conveniently
placed for Michel's hand. I could see her wince as the
first blow hit one of her cheeks. Michel counted aloud as
he spanked her bottom, alternating between cheeks,
hitting both cheeks with every fifth blow. He stopped
after twenty-five.

Roxy knew the routine. Obviously, she had done this
before. She got up from his knees and knelt on the sofa,
this time supporting her weight on the backrest and again
sticking her bottom up in the air. I could see the effect
of the 25 blows on her tender cheeks. Her bottom had a
dark pink glow to it.

Michel removed the belt from his trousers and rolled one
end several times around his hand. He stood next to
Roxanne and whipped her rear, again counting the strokes
aloud. These strokes were harder than I had ever
imagined. Roxanne whimpered quietly, taking her
punishment without complaining too much. The belt left
red lines, crisscrossing on her bottom, some running
further, to her side, some even reaching her front. Those
blows, when the belt wrapped around her and stung her
side and front, really made her jump.

The sight of my new-found friend being punished so
mercilessly did nothing to comfort me. I knew it would be
my turn soon. What I didn't know was that I would be
spared the belt. The 'double-fifty' which Michel had
pronounced as Roxanne's punishment consisted of fifty
swats with his hand and fifty strokes with the belt,
given in two instalments. I was only going to get 25
swats.

When Michel had completed the first half of her
punishment, Roxanne got up and walked a little shaky to
the corner where she stood, facing us, with her hands
behind her head. She explained later to me that this was
to prevent her from comforting herself by rubbing her
sore bottom. I could see excitement on her face and her
nipples were hard. I wondered if she had actually enjoyed
this treatment.

Michel sat down again and beckoned me over to where he
was sitting. I bent over his knees, imitating what
Roxanne had done and waited for the worst to come. Michel
didn't start spanking me straight away. He put his hand
on my bottom to feel these tender globes of flesh which
had never been spanked before. He moved his hand up and
down, pushed my cheeks apart and slid one finger along
the crack between my cheeks, all the way until it reached
my pussy. My pussy reacted. It wanted attention. Then the
first swat hit my backside.

"Ow, that hurt," I screamed, putting my hands on my
backside to sooth the pain and protect my bottom from
further blows.

"Keep still or I'll tie you down," Michel hissed
impatiently. He moved his legs apart and made me stand
between them. I was now immobilized, his legs held me in
an iron grip like a vice. With his left hand he grabbed
my wrists and held them so that I couldn't protect my
bottom.

"That one didn't count. I'll start again from the
beginning." Then he proceeded to spank my bottom as
systematically and thoroughly as I had seen him spank
Roxanne's.

Boy, did that hurt! At least for the first eight or ten
strokes. Then I seemed to get used to it. The pain in my
cheeks receded and a sensation of pleasure between my
legs took over. Holy Cow! I was starting to enjoy this.
When he reached 25 I was both relieved and a little
disappointed that it was already over. I got up and
positioned myself on the sofa as I had seen Roxanne do,
resigned to receiving 25 lashes with his belt.

"No, no." Michel said, "The belt is only for hardened
criminals like Roxy. Just stand in the corner and think
about your sins."

Now I was definitely disappointed. "Please, Sir, can I
have some more?" I heard myself say.

That caught everybody, including myself by surprise. But
Michel didn't need a second invitation. He bent me back
over his knee and treated my bottom to another 25 swats.

While I felt my bottom burn I watched Roxanne receive the
second instalment of her punishment: 25 swats with his
hand and 25 strokes with his belt. The colour of her
cheeks turned from dark pink to a deep red. The
crisscross pattern of lines on her bottom turned into a
chaotic cluster of lines. She gasped, she winced, but she
didn't complain. When she got up after the last stroke
she was visibly aroused, her pussy was soaking wet.

"Fuck me. Please, take me," she said as she lay down on
the carpeted floor, spreading her legs invitingly and
lifting them above her head. Michel dropped his trousers
and literally jumped on top of her. Seeing those two
abandon all convention and fucking right in front of
their visitors reminded me of my own needs. My pussy was
in urgent need of attention. I turned to Ramon. I didn't
need to say anything. He had already started to undress.
I helped him get rid of the rest of his clothes and then
lay down on the floor, eager to receive his wonderful
cock. When my sore bottom made contact with the carpet, I
felt an agonising pain but I grit my teeth and urged
Ramon on to fuck me hard and fast. I experienced one of
the most intense orgasms of my life.

Later, after we had returned to Ramon's apartment and he
had treated my bottom to several applications of soothing
skin cream, I wondered why pain seemed to have such an
arousing effect on me. I had felt proud and accomplished
when Ramon had fucked my pussy into a state of soreness
during our first night together, and again when he and
his two friends had achieved the same feat. The pain
meant that I had given myself unconditionally. But today
it hadn't been Ramon who had punished me, who had caused
the pain. It had been a stranger whom I had never met
before. Why did I get so turned on by it?

                    To be continued