Discipline of the Private House (21 page)

Oh well, she thought. It's not that bad. My bottom's warm and tingling again, which I like. And it's true that I'm excited. I can't deny it. I feel like having every person in this room, one after the other, with a spanking between each one.

'Stand.' The instructor's command interrupted Jem's pleasant reverie. 'I will now use the slave to demonstrate the standard postures for standing, sitting and kneeling in the Chateau, and then go on to place her in several more punishment positions.'

An hour later Jem was seething with a confusing combination of lust and indignation. Not a part of her body had not been exposed, prodded with the rod, pointed out to the class and, more often than not, manhandled by the instructor or one or more of the students.

The instructor had repeatedly remarked on the physical evidence of the filthy little slave's insatiable sexual appetite and, while Jem dutifully adopted and held a series of increasingly revealing poses, had encouraged the students to stick their fingers into her and to test the hardness of her nipples.

Now she was squatting, with her feet on tiptoes on the tops of two desks. The gap between the desks was, as the instructor demonstrated, wide enough for a person to stand in, either in front of Jem or behind her.

'You will find this position difficult to maintain for long,' she told the class. 'It is less of a strain on the calf muscles if you place your feet flat, but it is also less pleasing for others to look at. There are few positions that stretch the sexual areas as widely open as this; you can see that the slave's outer and, indeed, inner labia are parted. And you can see more clearly than ever that she is still producing copious amounts of lubrication.'

It's your fault, Jem wanted to shout at her. If you persist in sliding that rod into me, what do you expect?

'This is a good position for punishment or sex,' the instructor went on, 'or indeed both, serially or simultaneously.'

'Simultaneously, miss?' one of the students asked.

'Of course,' the instructor said. 'Once you have been trained to hold this position for some time, you will find that it is very adaptable. For instance, this slave can be penetrated from the front - would you use your finger, please, to simulate genital congress - while she is whipped from behind. The buttocks are widely separated, and thus very easy to punish with upward strokes. Perhaps more interestingly, in this position the slave's anus is very exposed - you see that I can place three fingers flat across it - and is therefore available for the more specialist punishments that you will be told of in other lessons.'

I'm going to come, Jem thought. This is so humiliating. If they don't stop touching me, I know I'll come.

Jem remembered, with a shock of anxiety that caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach, that if she were to enjoy a climax without having been given permission she could be reported to the Chatelaine. It could be enough to lose Jem her wager and condemn her to a life of slavery in the Chateau. Somehow the danger did nothing to damp the fire that was burning inside her.

'Alternatively, the slave can be penetrated anally and, simultaneously, punished from the front. Once again, you will be taught in other lessons about these particular techniques. Suffice to say for the moment that when punishing the genital area - of a man or a woman - it is necessary to use modest instruments and to be very careful about the vigour of the strokes. This, however, is an excellent position for such punishments because, as you can see, the folds of skin are held open. If one of you would be so kind as to use a finger again, this time to penetrate the slave's anus, I'll just give her a few light strokes with the rod for demonstration purposes.'

Jem felt the finger slide into her. She rocked back on her heels to meet the gentle pressure, and then remembered that she had to maintain her posture. She went back on to her toes, and gasped as the rod, swung lightly upwards, landed between her open labia. She shuddered, sank backwards on to the finger, and waited for the next stroke.

Just a little higher, please, she thought; touch me anywhere near my clitoris and I'll be there. I am ready to come at any moment, and I don't care how many of you are watching. In fact, I want you all to see.

'Miss,' one of the students said, 'is the slave actually dripping?'

'I do believe you're right,' the instructor said. 'She has no self-control. Take your finger out of her. I can't bear to use her any more.'

Jem felt the finger being pulled abruptly from her anus. She heard the students' feet as they shuffled away. It was suddenly over: she wasn't going to be allowed to come; she wasn't even going to remain the centre of attention.

'Disgusting slave,' the instructor called out, 'the lesson's almost over. You're to stay in that position until the end. If there's any mess on the floor underneath you, you will lick it up before I escort you to your next class, where I will make a point of asking Kadif to be particularly severe with you.'

But Jem was hardly listening. She was berating herself for her lack of will-power. This was only the first day; she had to submit for five days to everything the Chatelaine had planned for her, and she was sure that this deportment class was a negligible test compared with those that were to come. Twice she had almost succumbed to the temptation to resist: once through anger, and once through sheer lust.

As the discomfort in her calves and thighs started to develop into cramping pains, she began to despair. She had set herself an impossible task. She had thought it would be easy - a relaxing interlude from the problems of running the Private House - to turn herself over to the disciplinary regime of the Chateau. She had expected it to be a matter simply of allowing herself to be whipped and sexually used - more frequently than was her habit, certainly, but there was no reason why she shouldn't enjoy every moment.

But she had reckoned without her own awkward character: her bursts of humour, of temper, of desire. In order to submit, willingly, for five days, she needed to discover reserves of equanimity that she was sure she did not possess. That, or find some other strategy by which to survive.

Another gloomy chamber, another instructor. Kadif, a burly dark-skinned man, was presenting a lesson in discipline.

'Usually,' he explained to the class as Jem kneeled beside him, 'it is my routine to demonstrate the various disciplinary techniques using students from the class. Today, however, I have been granted the use of the new slave whose arrival you saw this morning. She will receive all the demonstration punishments. Therefore we will begin by inspecting the slave.' Jem felt a pull on her collar as Kadif tugged the leash. 'Get up on the desk, you little trollop.'

Jem stood, and flashed a cheerful grin at the class as she climbed on to the desk. Most of them, she saw, were almost as naked as she was: they were wearing the leather harnesses usually worn in the Chateau by the most junior staff and the slaves. She knew, however, that among them could be temporary guests whose desire was to experience enthralment, or senior staff for whom this lesson was remedial - or simply entertainment.

Jem remembered ,also to smile at Kadif as she knelt on the cushions that were strewn on the top of the desk. She was determined to appear confident; however, she felt close to defeat. She had almost fallen at one of the earliest, lowest hurdles: a basic lesson in deportment. An hour or more of being used to demonstrate Kadif s skills with instruments of correction would surely be even more difficult to bear.

'Well, now,' Kadif said, in a friendlier tone than Jem had expected. His big hand stroked her face. 'It seems everything they said about you is true. You really are a pretty little thing. Give me another smile with that cocksucking mouth of yours.'

Jem obliged, and as Kadif gave her a huge grin in return she felt a little spark of optimism and defiance reignite within her. An hour or two of corporal punishment - not a problem. She had happily endured far more at the hands of Julia and some of her guards, on several occasions when she been feeling particularly submissive.

'Would you like me to suck your cock, sir?' Jem said, glancing down at the prodigious bulge of his crotch and then up to his eyes.

His grin broadened. 'It would be an honour as well as a pleasure, you pretty little whore,' he said. 'But I think we had better postpone that delight until after you have shown these people just how much you love to feel the whip on your worthless hide.'

He spoke slowly, and continued gently to caress Jem as he addressed her in terms that were so demeaning that she found herself blushing. She was becoming aroused; she found Kadif very attractive, and was looking forward to unbuttoning the flap at the front of his breeches and taking his big, dark manhood into her mouth. Before then, she would be punished several times, but she knew now that she could trust Kadif. This lesson was going to be very enjoyable.

And so it proved. Kadif was instructing the class in the uses of one of the less well-known corrective implements. With Jem kneeling, he showed how a small whip with a multitude of thin leather lashes could be used to bring a rosy glow to her breasts; then, once she had lowered her head on to the cushions, he produced the same effect on her buttocks. Finally he had her lie on her back, holding her knees to her chest, while he whipped the backs of her thighs. Then, with great care, he alternated downward and upward flicks of the lashes to her vulva and anus.

Throughout the demonstration he referred to Jem in the most insulting and degrading terms. He repeatedly pointed out to the students that 'the filthy cocksucking piece of garbage' was quite obviously enjoying every moment of the punishment; this was undeniable, as he used his large, surprisingly gentle hands, and the handle of the whip, to keep Jem in a state of panting need.

'Look at the disgusting little tramp,' he said indulgently, as Jem lay on her back, exposing her most intimate parts which were burning from Kadif s expertly applied strokes. 'It's right to call her no better than a piece of shit, because she loves to take it up her shit-hole.' Jem felt the cool tip of the whip-handle touch the hot ring of her anus. 'You see? The little piece of excrement wants the whip up her arse. See how her shit-hole opens like a little mouth? Like it's begging for me to push this inside?' He placed a hand on the burning membranes of Jem's sex. 'And if I start to push it in, and press down at the same time -yes, as you can see, the little tramp starts leaking her juice all over my fingers. Even her arsehole is whorish.'

And it was true. Every sexual part of Jem - her breasts, her buttocks, her vulva - felt hot and tingling, and alive with sensation. She was so close to coming that she almost forgot to clasp her knees to her chest, so when Kadif pressed his hand on to her labia and ground the heel of his thumb against the hood of her clitoris, she felt the waves of a climax begin to pulse more and more insistently.

Kadif moved his hand away.

'For the remainder of the lesson,' he said, Til use the whore-slave to show you a variety of clips and clamps that can be used on nipples. I'll also show you how some of them can be used on other sensitive parts of the slave's body, such as the opter and inner labia, the prepuce of the clitoris, and the skin around the anus. Get up, piece of garbage, and adopt the kneeling position.'

Kadif was a thorough instructor. For half an hour he toyed with the most delicate parts of Jem's anatomy. At times Jem felt as though her entire body must be decorated with glittering metal attachments, each of which was at least a little painful. Kadif was inventive: he pointed out that the skin of the areolae and indeed of any point on the surface of Jem's breasts could be gathered and pinched with either a simple peg or a complex, screw-tightened clasp. Using Jem's nipples, and then her outer labia, he demonstrated that a clip with a weak spring but with serrated edges could support weights as well as could a tightly fastened clamp or a clip with a strong spring. Referring in the crudest terms to Jem's alleged love of anal sex, he fastened tiny, jewelled clips on both sides of her anus, along the sides of the valley between her buttocks; although Jem was wincing with the pain, and tears were squeezing from the corners of her eyes, he merely had to touch the handle of his whip to her jewel-encircled ring to produce evidence that she was once again very aroused.

And all the time, as he encouraged the class to follow his example and call Jem by the lowest, most loathsome epithets they could devise, his hands touched her in ways that made her tremble with longing.

After he dismissed the class, he stood back and admired his handiwork. Jem, breathing deeply and with her eyes shut, tried to master both the sharp twinges of pain all over the surface of her body and the spasms of desire within it.

'How many, sir?' she asked. 'May I know how many I am wearing?'

Kadif laughed softly. 'I will count them as I remove them. This one will come off last, and I'll touch it from time to time. I think it's my favourite. You must keep still now, little dung-beetle.'

Jem felt a thrill of sensation so sharp that she couldn't decide whether it was pain or pleasure. Kadif had touched something between her legs; she felt something brush her thigh as it swung.

'What is it, sir?' she gasped.

'I attached a clip to the skin just above your clitoris,' he said. 'And I've hung a pendulum from it: a weight, hanging on a chain, that is pulling the gathered skin down and over the tip of your clitoris. When I swing the pendulum - well, you know what it feels like, don't you, whore-slave?'