Eva's Further Education

Monique stepped up to her, pushed her lovely hair out of her eyes, and kissed her, then said softly, 'You will learn to take it, my dear, you'll see – and I guarantee that you will come to ask for it, even crave it, before your time is through here, that is what we train you for. Whip her, Marcel!'

Marcel stepped up and dispassionately lashed Christine hard across her lower back with the cruel crop. She shrieked as the wicked thong bit into her tender white flesh, and Petra, beside me, murmured, 'Mmmm, she'll look pretty with some stripes, won't she?'

'Jealousy will get you nowhere,' I whispered, 'but just look at Marcel's muscles.' He struck her again, lower down, and her moans were lower, more guttural, with each stroke, as she writhed in her bonds under his accurate and expert flogging.

Monique deemed six strokes enough for Christine, but didn't want us to soothe her wounds with ointment for the time being. 'She can spend the day remembering her first punishment,' she said, 'she's an arrogant number, and will have to learn a few manners. Dress her and bring her to lunch – on a leash!'

While I waited for Marcel to fetch me a collar and a leash, I took brief pity on Christine, and asked her if her back hurt. She gave me a scornful look and said, 'If that's all I have to endure, I doubt I shall have any problem.'

I exchanged looks with Petra, who wore a wry smile, and then Marcel was back with a metal collar, which I clipped in place around Christine's swan-like neck. Then we dressed her in her sheath, just like our own, stood her in her needle-heels, clicked the leash in place, and I let Petra lead her down to the dining room. Lunch was being served when we arrived, and, as usual at the Abbeye, was very good.

As we finished, Monique said, 'Bring Christine to my room at five, after she has rested in her room, will you, ladies? For now, I will instruct Marcel to take her to her room.'

Marcel came, took up Christine's lead, and led her off to her room, leaving us free to rest for a couple of hours.

I woke Petra and we went to collect Christine just before five. She had been chained loosely to a ceiling-chain by her wrist-cuffs, as was to be normal for our guests, and I had to take a key down from where it hung, out of her reach, to release her. She wanted to pee, and I thought it would be nice if we watched, humiliating her just a little more, so I told her to go while Petra held her above the toilet, so that she couldn't sit down, then put my hand in the warm stream she produced, and told her to lick it when she was finished. She spat at me, and I laughed.

We took her down the corridor to Monique's room, and Monique smiled when she saw us.

'Sit down, ladies, please,' she said, then, 'not you, Christine! You can kneel on the floor in front of the sofa there.'

I gave a sharp tug on her leash to help her do so, and once she was on her knees, Monique said, 'Now, Eva, unfasten her hem, please, and let me see her behind.'

I crouched down and did a I was told, opening up the velcro and ripping apart the slit in Christune's skirt, right up to her waist.

'Knees apart!' said Monique, who was now on her feet, and helped her obey by kicking her legs apart physically. Then she put an exploratory hand to the young brunette's anus.

'I see,' she said, 'I take it your fiancé has never taken you here?' For emphasis, she poked a long-naailed forefinger just into the portals of Chrstine's tiny puckered arsehole.

'Ugh, that's disgusting!' said Christine, 'of course not – what do you take me for?'

Petra and I were giggling by now, and Monique shot us a warning glance.

'Eva,' she said, 'go and get a number one with flange, and a tube of lube, from my drawer, will you?' I understood, and went straight to the very items.

'What are you going to do to me?' asked Christine, in a trembling voice.

'Only something that must be done, and which you will thank me for,' said Monique.

I was back in a trice with a small butt-plug, and a tube, from which Monique took a liberal amount of lubricant to smear around the entrance to Christine's arsehole. Then, without ceremony, she simply shoved the slim black plug straight up the prim young lady's rectum, until only the flange protruded. She screamed loudly as the unfamiliar object invaded her rear passage, stretching muscles that had never been trained to accept entry.

'Oh, you fucking bitch!' she yelled, 'you've torn me, you've torn me!'

'No I haven't, and that's no way for a young lady to talk,' said Monique, quietly, 'and I shall have to punish you for speaking to me like that – and in front of your colleagues, too!'

But Christine was still incensed. 'Take that fucking thing out of me. I can't bear it!'

'You can and you will. You will keep it in place until this time tomorrow, when it will be replaced by a larger one. You may only remove it when you need to shit. Is that clear?'

There was no reply.

'IS THAT CLEAR?' repeated Monique, and slapped Christine very hard across her bare buttocks.

'Yes, mistress,' she said meekly.

'Petra,' she said, 'go get me a set of clamps, please.'

Petra went over to the drawer and was soon back with a set of silver nipple clamps.

'Right,' said Monique, 'this will be your punishment, Christine. You will wear them for an hour. Unzip her please, Eva.'

I drew down the zipper under her armpit which secured the top of her sheath, and Moniqueran her hand over the brunette's almost flat chest, teasing her prominent nipples to erection. Then, taking the clamps from Petra, she deftly fitted them in place, and screwed them both down until Christine yelped with pain. She hung a solid silver globe from the connecting chain, so that Christine wouldn't be free of the pain from the clamps as she moved around, then told me to zip her up. I did so, completing the job by closing the slit in her skirt, and clipping together her hem.

'Now, let me have a look at you,' said Monique, and it was a very different, tear-stained, subdued Christine that stood before her. Nonetheless, she shook still further when Monique told her, 'Today has merely been the start of your training. Starting tomorrow you will come to know much more. Go now!'

Christine was sullen during dinner, not speaking to anyone, despite sevral attempts by Petra, who sat beside her, to engage her in conversation. Monique, tiring of the newcomer's presence, dismissed her early to her room, telling Marcel to go and make sure she was chained up.

Later, I had wriggled out of my sheath, taken off my make-up, and slipped into a long silk nightgown, when a knock sounded at my door.

'Who is it?' I demanded.

'Marcel,' came the unexpected reply, and the door opened. In walked the servant, in a short robe, muscular, hairy legs projecting below, a horse-whip stuck in his belt. He stood, legs slightly apart, regarding me as I sat at my dressing table.

'I've been watching you,' he said, a trifle thickly, 'and I thought I may be able to give you ……something you want?'

I looked up at him, the memory of his whip on my back still fresh, and combining with images of him laying into Christine with the riding crop, and of him fucking Petra, his big, thick cock pounding into her arsehole until she screamed.

'What could you possibly have that I want?' I asked, trying to keep cool.

He stepped towards me and, in one swift movement, grasped the long, thick mane of my hair, turning my face up towards his. With his other hand, he slapped my face, a hard, stinging slap.

'Don't play hard to get with me!' he growled, and pulled me by my hair, up from the chair and over to the bathroom. Taking a pair of handcuffs from the pocket of his robe, he quickly secured my wrists to the shower-head, so that I was helplessly suspnded, clad in my long silk nightgown, below the shower. He flicked on the control, and an icy jet of water soaked me instantly, sticking the thin silk grment to my body like a second skin. He took the small dressage hip from his belt, took aim, and immediately started to lay about me with it. It hurt most terribly, the sting of the thin leather lash somehow amplified by the wet silk that was between it and my skin. He whipped my stomach, my breasts, my thighs, my flanks, my back, virtually my whole body, and paused when he had given me ten strokes, turning off the water.

'Can you take more?' he demanded, 'or do I stop?'

I desparately wanted the punishment to stop, but I wanted, somewhere within me, more, and said so. After only a few more strokes, I came, convulsively, with a long, shuddering, ecstatic moan, and he knew to stop. He took me down from the shower-head, stripped off my nightdress, which seemed to be ruined, and dried me tenderly with a big, soft towel. Then he caarried me into my bedroom and laid me down on my bed, stripped off his robe, and sat beside me, his massive cock inviting attention. I cradled it in both hands, then took it gently between my lips, allowing my tongue-stud to graze the crown and give him maximum pleasure. Oblivious to my wounds, which were superficial anyway, and overcome by lust now, I pushed a cushion under my buttocks, and lay back, spreading my legs. I looked at Marcel from under hooded eyelids, showed him just the very tip of my tongue, and, then looking downwards, opened my labia as wide as I could, with thumb and middle finger of one hand, showing him my hot wet, glistening cunt. I knew my gestures were irresistible, and he fell upon me, driving his shaft into me up to the hilt. I thought he would surely split me – I had never taken a cock so huge, and it was almost a relief that he wasn't going to last long, after the excitement of the whipping he had given me. Just a few great pounding strokes, and he shouted his triumph as he thrust one mighty heave, and his hot gushing spunk filled me in a way that satisfied me beyond belief, even though I didn't climax again – that would have been too much to ask!

That night, I slept like a baby.

Next morning, I dressed and had a look at myelf in the mirror. The wounds Marcel had left around my body could be seen, but only faintly, so I was a little surprised when Petra, holding my hand as we walked down to breakfast, out heels echoing as they clicked on the tiled floor, glanced sideways at me, and said, 'So you had a visit last night, then?'

'Oh shit, is it so obvious?'

'I know you too well, darling. Big, isn't he?'

'Enormous!' We giggled together as we entered the refectory, where Christine was already sat, drinking coffee, and eating a croissant. She didn't acknowledge us.

'Cat got your tongue?' taunted Petra, but just then Monique came in, dressed as we were, and we greeted her respectfully, but Christine still remained silent. Monique ignored her as we had our breakfaast, then said, 'Christine, go and sit on that couch!' She indicated a small, leather-upholstered ottoman, with two small footstools in front of it, and Christine did as she was told.

'Petra,' said Monique, 'go and release her hem, an open her skirt, will you, my dear?'

Petra scurried around and did her bidding, then Monique told Christine to put her feet on the footstools, which were wide apart. Once he had done that, her clean-shaven pussy was now on full view, under the room's bright lights. Monique pressed a buzzer, and, while we sat there, and Christine, spread wide and completely vulnerable, awaited her fate, we heard footsteps out in the corridor. Very soon Marcel, Henri, and the two young maids came in, and Monique bade them take seats to watch.

'Now,' she said to Christine, 'you will masturbate for us. We should all like to see you have an orgasm.'

'I can't – I never, I mean, I…I, with people watching, oh, oh, no, no, please, mistress!'

'Come now, don't be shy, of course you can – we're all waiting!' Monique's voice grew harsher.

Christine's hand wandered to her pussy, but she started to cry, 'I can't, I really can't, please, mistress.'

'Perhaps what you need is some sort of image – a stimulus – is that it? What if Marcel shows you his cock, or you watch him fucking one of the girls – he does that rather well!'

That was a nasty dig, I thought, and could have sworn she was looking right through me as she said it.

But Christine was still sobbing, and Petra went and whispered in Monique's ear.

'Yes,' she said, then, 'Christine, Petra says she'll sit in front of you and masturbate as well. Perhaps that will help?'

Christine looked slowly from Monique to Petra and back again, and gave what could have been mistaken for a nod. Petra carried a chair over and placed it at an angle in front of the brunette, then unclipped her own hem, and ripped open her velcro fastening, exposing her long, slender legs as she sat down, legs apart, facing Christine.

Petra smiled at Christine, who deliberately looked away, but Monique came up behind the brunette, and siezed a handful of her dark locks, and pulled her head around so that she was forced to look in Petra's direction. Petra had both hands between her legs, and used one to spread her labia with fingers and thumb, while, with th other, she began to massage her clit, slowly and rhythmically, keeping her eyes on Christine, her studded tongue making tiny darts just out betwween her luscious red lips.

Christine's right hand moved reluctantly, hesitantly, towards her pussy, and she squirmed percebtibly on her seat, showing the obscene butt-plug to all and sundry, its flange protruding from her anus. Her eyes had dropped noticeably from Petra's face to her pussy, and her mouth was now slightly open, as if she couldn't get sufficient air in through her nasal paassages. The fingers of her right hand slowly crept to her outer labia, tentatively exploring, as if she had never done this before. My eyes moved to Petra, who was now masturbating enthusiastically, her fingers alternately massaging her erect little clit, and plunging deep into her vagina, two of them, always two, as I remembered she liked to do. A pang of jealousy came as I watched my lovely Petra showing herself to another, but I suppressed it, and my gaze switched to Christine, who was now moving her fingers rhythmically too, as if in time with Petra's, her clitoris a larger-than-normal bud, (ripe for piercing, I thought) now standing proud of its hood for all to see. Christine's breath was now coming in panting gasps, as she started to introduce first a fingr into her cunt, then to fuck herself vigorously with two long, beautifully manicured fingers, as her eyes never for one moment left Petra. As I knew she would. Petra lifted her buttocks slightly from her chair, and thrust a forefinger deep, deep into her arsehole. That was too much for Christine, who shouted, 'Oh, oui, oui, mon Dieu!' She arched her back and came, in a shuddering climax, which brought with it an astonishing squirt, spraying out her juices in a great stream, which hit Petra, soaking the front of her gown.

'Well, well,' said Monique, helping Petra up from the chair and handing her a wholly inadequate napkin, 'we do live and learn, don't we?'

For my part, I was too excited to contemplate moving, for the moment. But Monique continued, 'Marcel, pass me a leash!'

She clipped the leash onto Christine's collar, and, giving her a sharp tug, said, 'Now then, you squirting little slut, we know enough to continue your training, perhaps. I'll take her with me for the rest of the morning, ladies, and I'm sure you'll appreciate a while together, so I'll see you at lunch.'

So saying, she led Christine off, and Petra looked at me with ill-concealed anticipation. The episode with Christine had left us both, and especially Petra, with 'unfinished business' and we both yearned for closeness.

As soon as we got to my room, we stripped each other, leaving our waist-chains in place – 'I think they're really quite sexy,' said Petra – and fell together onto my big bed, assuming the '69' position that seemed to come so naturally to us. Petra's cunt was sopping wet already, her musky scent and wonderful sweetness pervading my senses, my whole being. Her clit was as rigid as a bullet, and it took no more than a couple of flicks at it, a tug on her hood-ring, and a deep plunge of my studded tongue into the steaming heat of her cunt to drive her to paroxysms of delight, and a shuddering, heaving, writhing climax.

'Oh, I love you so much, Petra,' I told her, 'now it's my turn!'

And it took very little for me to join her in her ecstasy. Petra always had the power to bring me rapidly to orgasm, and knew just what I needed, working on my moist vagina and prominent clit until I was almost there, then, hen she sensed my moment was nigh, plunging two long fingers deep into my anus and pumping just a very few times, fucking my arse like no man could, until I came – blessed relief.

We lay on my bed and talked, played with each other for an hour, then entertained one another with my 'toys' – two vibrators of varying thickness, a set of balls on a string, an expanding anal dildo, and finally a double-ended dildo, with which we fucked each other until we were exhausted, and had to sleep until lunchtime.

We dressed in our 'uniforms' and went hand-in-hand down to lunch, a bit early, to find Monique leading in Christine, on a leash, now clad in quite the tightest black corset I had ever seen, which gave her the appearance of an hourgñass figure, her waist constricted to tiny proportions by the tightly-laced, whale-boned garment, which also had the effect of thrusting out her naked buttocks. She was wearing black seamed stockings, cinched to the long garter straps, and a much larger plug protruded obscenely from her anus, bright orange in colour. Her tiny breasts were uncovered above the cruel corset, and Monique had attached clamps to her prominent nipples.

'Hello, ladies,' she said, 'I'm glad you've come down early. I've spent some time with our friend here this morning, and we now know a little more about her, don't we, my dear?' She had turned to Christine, and was idly running a finger through the brunette's naked slit.

'Yes, mistress,' answered Christine, more perkily than I'd ever heard her speak before.

'And what have we learnt?' asked Monique.

Christine's old, sullen demeanour looked like returning, as she looked down at the ground.

'Do I have to repeat myself? What is it we now know about you?

Christine spoke sheepishly, still not looking at us directly, 'That…..I like women.'

'And what else?'

Looking still more embarrassed, her voice was scarcely audible, but she muttered, 'That I like pain – it excites me!'

'There,' said Monique, 'that wasn't too hard, was it? A nice combination, I think, and we can cater for you beautifully here. Now we should all go and have some lunch, then you two can draw lots as to who will punish Christine.'

I looked at Petra, who glanced back at me, but it was impossible to read her expression. We filed into the refectory for lunch – I was suddenly very hungry.

During lunch Monique organised a straw-poll, which I 'won' – I suspected her of rigging it.

She had compelled Christine to sit and eat in just her corset and stockings – she must have been very uncomfortable, but maintained a proud expression as she sat and toyed with her salad.

After lunch, Monique led us, with Christine tottering along behind her on the end of her leash, down the uneven-floored corridor to the grim dungeon. Once there, she led the brunette to a heaavy, shaped wooden block, designed for her punishment. Christine, wide-eyed, was pulled towards it, and placed over it, so that her buttocks were nicely presented, her head over the edge, and her arms dangling down almost to the floor. Monique secured her wrist-cuffs to rings set in for the purpose, then fastened her ankles down too. Christine was effectively doubled over, her naked, white buttocks an invitation for a whipping.