Description
by Lindsey Brooks
Yvonne is a courtesan, submissive to one Master and prepared to perform almost any act of submission for his pleasure. Almost any act. She is intelligent, well educated, elegant and refined, and knows what she wants. She is sure she is everything a proper courtesan should be, and very, very different from the common whores of Paris.
So it is something of a shock to find herself dressed much like a street prostitute and on a train to Marseille, following brief instructions she received from her Master down a crackling telephone line.
Or were the instructions from her Master? Suddenly, she is no longer certain, and her doubts increase as she is used and abused on her journey, and clearly those who abuse her know everything about her, as if someone had planned every step of it. Surely her Master would never use her like that? Surely he would not allow strangers to treat her in ways that had always been reserved exclusively for his pleasure? Surely, if it were her Master who was behind all this, then at least he would be there to witness her suffering?
And then it gets worse.
Published: 4 / 2012
No. words: 53200
Style: BDSM/Bondage – Content: Moderate – Classed as: Consensual – Male Dom – M/F, Sex Slavery / Training
“Perhaps you should leave the train at Lyon with me,” Lysette suggested. “One of my most trusted clients recommended me to a gentleman there who has offered me an attractive remuneration for visiting him, but I will gladly forego it. We can return to Paris together.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that.” It would be no minor infraction of her Master’s rules. She would be breaking all her ties with him at once, for he would never forgive such a gross act of rebelliousness. And she was not ready for that. Not yet, at least.
Lysette looked disappointed. “Then I wish I could do something else to help you. I begin to wish I had never taken you to that party.”
“But I’m glad you did, and that Marcel was there,” Yvonne assured her. “I always will be, however things turn out in the end. And just seeing you like this has helped. You don’t know what a relief it’s been to be able to talk to someone.”
“Something you were specifically ordered not to do.”
Yvonne jumped as Linen Suit slid into the chair next to hers. Sunk too deeply in conversation she had forgotten to look out for him.
“Good evening, Miss Sudrenne,” he said to Lysette. “Forgive me if I do not introduce myself, but it would be inconvenient if this young woman were to know my identity.”
Lysette showed her perfect white teeth in a smile. “Then it seems you have us both at a disadvantage, sir.”
“But you less so than Miss Valmy, for unlike her you will not shortly be punished for disobedience.”
Lysette’s smile vanished. “Punished? Surely you are not serious?”
“I am,” he assured her. “It is an unfortunate coincidence that the two of you have met, as your friend will learn to her cost. Of course, if she had remained silent as she was told she would not now be facing the prospect of further pain.”
Yvonne shuddered. A steward appeared. Linen Suit ordered and Yvonne declined dessert. Her belly was fluttering too much. The man took out a cigarette.
“Do you mind, Miss Sudrenne?” He ignored Yvonne.
“May I have one?” Lysette asked, and after he had lit it for her, “Are you acquainted with Monsieur Marcel Hanriot?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“You clearly recognise Miss Valmy and myself, yet I do not think we have met?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He gave a short laugh. “But I know about you. From that expensive outfit you have on I’d guess it pays well to be a whore.”
Lysette was unruffled. “A courtesan, sir. There is a world of difference, I assure you.”
“Not when you’re on your back with your legs open, I think,” he sneered.
It was Lysette’s turn to laugh. “Oh, especially then, sir! Especially then!”
He smiled thinly then turned to Yvonne. “Pull your skirts up.”
Her stomach turned over but she managed to hold back the protest that rose to her lips.
Though only the merest widening of her eyes betrayed her shock, Lysette was not so restrained. “Monsieur, this place is far too public,” she said, her reversion to French revealing her agitation. “You really cannot mean -.”
“Mademoiselle,” he interrupted, “your presence here was not invited and I find it most annoying. If you have concerns they should be focused on your own situation, not that of your friend. You presume too much in involving yourself in a Master’s business with his whore.”
Lysette’s outraged expression vanished and her eyes narrowed. “Then this is Marcel’s doing. Mon dieu, whatever is he thinking?”
“I am her Master for the present. You would do well to remember what is good for you and refrain from interfering.” He looked hard at her and then Yvonne. “I am waiting for you to obey me.”
She had not often seen Lysette abashed but Linen Suit achieved it. He had the same effect on her. She reached under the table and drew the thin stuff of her dress up to the tops of her thighs.
“Higher.”
Yvonne raised them until nothing but the tablecloth covered her sex. The man slid his hand beneath the table and over the damp warmth of her inner thighs before moving it to tickle the pout of her pussy-lips and come to rest on the light covering of hair on her love-mound. His big forefinger delved beneath the hood of her clitoris and she gasped. A moment later she heard Lysette do the same.
“Yvonne, I’m sorry,” the girl said, “but I cannot stay and watch you being degraded like this.” She stubbed out her cigarette and began rising to her feet.
“I think you should, Miss Sudrenne,” Linen Suit said with a gesture at the crowd in the dining car. “Your presence would help conceal her from… over-inquisitiveness on the part of her fellow passengers.”
Her mouth tightening, Lysette sank down again.
“You will not move or make a sound,” the man told Yvonne. She trembled. Her bud was already erect beneath his fingertip, and tremors were thrilling through it and her quivering sheath. Her belly was tight and her heart racing from the fear of discovery. She could feel the closeness of the man sitting at the table behind her and the people at the one in front were barely a metre away. They could not fail to see what was happening. The fingertip flicked her straining clitoris. Yvonne gave a horrified squeak and clamped her lips hard together, holding herself stiffly upright in her chair.
Linen Suit rubbed roughly and swiftly. Shivers of pleasure ran through her and the pulsing warmth that had been filling her pussy for hours flared into fiery heat. She stared fixedly at Lysette’s worried features, struggling to keep all expression from her face and to resist her growing need to thrust herself against the teasing fingers that were creating such wonderful sensations. It felt lovely, but it was torture too. Breathing hard through her nose, Yvonne pressed her right forearm hard onto the table and shut her eyes as her sex wriggled madly.
Lysette’s hands pressed her clenched fist. “No, don’t close your eyes. You won’t have any control like that. Open them and look at me.”
Yvonne stared into her friend’s wide brown eyes as the urge to moan, to squirm her buzzing bottom on the seat and heighten her pleasure by thrusting her hips became unbearable. For a moment, the memory of the last time Lysette had seen her so aroused filled her thoughts, swamped by a sudden trembling in her upright bud. She was close. Yvonne strained every ounce of will, every muscle and sinew to stop herself moving and to stifle the moans rising in her throat.
The man’s touch vanished. Relief, resentment and a deep, devastating disappointment filled Yvonne all at the same time. Her sex raged, demanding fulfilment. She would have slumped forwards had not Lysette’s hand on her shoulder held her. Linen Suit gave her a minute to get her breath back, and then held his glistening finger to her lips.
“Lick.”
She saw Lysette watching her with a worried frown as she ran her tongue up its length. He withdrew it and held it before the other girl.
“You too.”
Lysette gave him an affronted look, her mouth twisting in distaste. “I’ll be damned before I do.”
“You may feel my hand across your backside before you do, Mademoiselle, and I guarantee your friend’s punishment will be doubled if you don’t. Come now, I know it won’t be the first time you’ve tasted her.”
The skin over Lysette’s aristocratic cheekbones showed a tinge of colour as she gave him a narrow look. She looked nervously around, and then pushed out her pink tongue and flicked it quickly over his upheld finger. He laughed softly and her blush spread further as she glared at him.
“Yvonne, don’t you think you should come back to Paris with me?” she asked.
With a glance at Linen Suit, Yvonne shook her head.
“You were told not to interfere,” he said to Lysette. “What she should do is get undressed and go straight to bed. And no, you will not accompany her.”
The beautiful brunette closed her mouth, the suggestion unmade. Aching to thank her properly for her comfort and concern, Yvonne could only close her hand over the girl’s and smile. Lysette smiled wanly back.
“Good luck, Yvonne.” Her expression said she thought she would need it.
“Go,” the man said. “Do not lock your door.”
She looked back as she left the dining car. They were both watching her, the man stony-faced and Lysette looking agitated.
