Chateau Malmont

Jacqueline had now returned with a silver tray, on which a short riding crop was resting. He took it, and showed it to Rachel. 'I think you will find pleasure in the pain this gives you, my dear,' he said.

He stood back and took aim, then there was a loud swish as the crop flew through the air, and he whipped Rachel expertly, lashing her cruelly, ten slashing strokes across her back, arse and upper thighs. She writhed and bucked against the bonds, and screamed as each blow fell on her tender flesh, leaving red lines criss-crossing her body. Sandra, watching, found herself, inexplicably, almost envious of her friend, and very turned on by the whole proceeding, in spite of their predicament. Abruptly then, he left them, beckoning Jacqueline to accompany him, and they heard the door to the television room close behind them. Not more than a minute later, they heard, Jacqueline's throaty voice, 'Oh, oh, oh, oooh, oaaah!' and the unmistakeable sound of the rhythmic thumping of the sofa against the wall.

'They're shagging,' said Rachel, unnecessarily, still scarcely able to speak properly after her whipping, and they fell silent, both pondering their situation, until a dishevelled-looking Jacqueline, minus the robe, now dressed only in a white cotton dress, came and unfastened Rachel's ankle restraints, then took her wrist chain down, but, keeping her firmly handcuffed, led her off out of sight. Sandra heard some clanging noises, and an exchange of a few words, then Jacqueline was back, repeating the process for her. She found herself being led off around a corner, on the same rough stone floor, past more wall-chains, momentarily unoccupied, and to one of two cages, again both dimly lit by single bulbs. She was pulled into one of them, which contained an iron bedstead with a thin mattress and a slop-bucket. Without a word, Jacqueline indicated that she should lie on the mattress, and rapidly chained her left wrist to the bedstead. Still silently, she left, locking the door behind her and taking the key with her. Taking stock, Sandra discovered that with some kind of manoeuvre, she would just about be able to reach the slop-bucket, whilst still chained to the bed. She also discovered that by stretching a little, she could see Rachel in the adjacent cage. She was also chained to her bedstead, and her nakedness had been covered with a white robe of some sort, before she had been left alone.

'What the fuck do we do now?' Rachel asked, an edge of hysteria unsurprisingly creeping into her voice.

'I'm going to try and get some sleep,' said Sandra, 'maybe it's all a bad dream anyway.' She really was incredibly tired, she just discovered, and soon slept, in spite of everything.

Sandra awoke to the sound of her lock being opened. The light from the bulb overhead now merged with a grey light coming in from outside, admitted by high slit windows, up near the roof of the dungeon. A lumpish-looking young guy she had never seen before came in carrying a tray, which he placed on the floor near her bed, then left silently, locking the door behind him. She raised herself, initially forgetting the chain at her wrist, but found she could reach the tray, which contained coffee, croissants and orange juice. All were delicious. With her free hand, she managed to enjoy them, then had to use the bucket. Dignity was impossible in her situation. Time passed, and she glanced over, and saw that Rachel was sleeping soundly. She decided not to call to her.

Before many minutes had passed, Jean-Pierre (or was it Jean-Marc?) appeared, and opened the door, grim-faced.

'Which are you?' asked Sandra.

'Does it matter?' He had a point.

He unfastened her wrist-chain and led her out into the dungeon. He was a strong man, and she knew it was pointless to attempt to escape. Around a corner, he pulled her into a cubicle which she immediately recognised as a shower, and, before she could think of slipping out of her nightgown, a mighty jet of icy-cold water cascaded from a rose above her head, drenching her from head to foot, so that the silk of her gown stuck to her slim body like a second skin. She shivered uncontrollably, and swore at the twin in every language she could think of, but he merely laughed, from the dryness of the exterior. After a couple of minutes, he turned off the jet, and pulled her by her wrist-chain from the cubicle. She had never felt so cold and miserable, so humiliated, in her life. Back in her cell, he chained her wrist, more tightly this time, to the side of the bed, then, producing another cuff from his pocket, he cuffed her other wrist to the right side of the bed, so that her torso was face down on the bed, as she knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed, her drenched nightgown stuck to her body, outlining every inch of her.

He knelt behind her, pulling her gown up to expose her wet buttocks, then slapping first the right then the left one resoundingly, with a sharp 'crack', leaving red handprints on the cheeks of her arse.

'Lovely,' he said, then produced from his pocket a tube of lubricant, and squeezed some onto his fingers, and started to work it slowly into her tiny, puckered arsehole.

'No,' she cried, 'not that. I've never.......I mean, I just can't.'

'Oh yes, you can. It's going to hurt you terribly, you know. So prepare yourself.'

'Oh, please be gentle with me,' said Sandra.

'It's not my choice,' he said, and she didn't understand, until he quite suddenly got to his feet and she heard a word of greeting. His place had been taken by Yves! She saw, out of the corner of her eye, his burly form, in his monk's habit, a huge erection projecting from its folds like a tent-pole, entering through the cage-door, and kneeling behind her.

He grunted as first he rammed his great rod straight into her unsuspecting but surprisingly moist cunt-hole, but then he withdrew as quickly as he had entered. He was wanting a rarer prize! Lubricated by her own juices, he pushed his crown slowly but horribly hard against the narrow portals of her anus, forcing his way into her reluctant entrance, stretching her wider than she would have thought credible. She screamed with agony as he went thee first few centimetres into her tender channel, then as he approached her sphincter, and she knew her anal virginity was being lost for ever, she moaned and sobbed with the terrible pain, now merging with a desire which spread into her very centre. She writhed with the awful, fiery suffering of it, as she felt him pound into her once most private place, and a tremendous orgasm overcame her, and blotted out the pain, as he gave a great strangled shout, and shot a load of hot, creamy spunk, right up into her bowel.

When he had finished, he left without a word, and Jacqueline came in, dressed in her 'regulation' satin robe. There was no soothing word from her, no word at all, in fact. She simply unfastened Sandra's wrists, helped her off with her soaking nightgown, gave her a large towel, and white silk negligee to put on. Then she left, again without a word.

Rachel, who had watched the proceedings from her own cage, said merely, 'Wow.'

Ten minutes later, Jacqueline was back, whilst Sandra was still aching from the brutal invasion of her arsehole.

'Kneel on the floor!' she ordered, and Sandra did her bidding.

Jacqueline pulled the negligee from her back, and produced a riding crop from under her robe. Without any warning, she lashed Sandra with all her might across her upper back with the crop, which landed with a terrible 'crack' on her tender skin, and left a bright scarlet welt, with droplets of blood starting to form where it had broken the skin. She repeated the dose six times, working her way down Sandra's back to her buttocks. When she finished, Sandra was sobbing uncontrollably.

'Tomorrow,' said Jacqueline, 'you will now be ready to go to Phase Two. Yves wants a few minutes with Barbara, and then she will be ready too.'

Some time later, Sandra heard the sounds of Rachel's door being unlocked, and looked around to see Yves standing there, huge, in her doorway.

'So, my little Barbara, we are almost ready for the next phase,' he said.

'My name is Rachel,' she spluttered.

'You are Barbara for me,' he said, 'that is how I shall remember you.'

Then he fell upon her, dragging off her negligee, thrusting her slim legs wide apart, and seeking her arsehole, which Sandra knew was far from virgin. He thrust himself into her in one great surge and moaned as he found his great cock clamped within her rectum, then he pounded in and out, shouting loudly, 'This is the last cock you will ever have inside you, Barbara – enjoy it, and cum for me!'

She screamed, fear, pain and ecstasy combining, and then lay, spent, as he withdrew, and got up and left her.

They were both fed during the rest of the day, but no amount of questioning would elicit information from the half-wit who brought them their food. Sandra slept surprisingly well that night, securely locked in the cage, but no longer chained to the bedstead. Then, in the morning, as first light hit the dungeon, Jacqueline appeared with garments piled in her arms.

'Strip!' she said, and when Sandra had slipped off her negligee, she was given a long cream cotton robe, fastened by a cord at the waist. Rachel was similarly attired, then both girls were brought out of their cages, their wrists cuffed in front of them.

'You are now going to Phase Two,' said Jacqueline, 'and from now on you will be shackled and collared.' Thus saying, she fetched heavy leg-irons from a cupboard, and placed them on the girls' ankles, then snapped broad leather collars around their necks, to which she attached leashes.

Thus completely humiliated and controlled, she led them both to a huge steel door, which she opened with a great box-key she had been carrying on a chain around her waist. It was terribly difficult to walk with the heavy chains between their ankles.

The dungeon they now entered was darker than the one they had just left, with a flickering quality to what light there was. At one side they saw two empty sleeping compartments like the ones they had occupied, but without mattresses, just wooden boards. Along the other wall was an unmistakeable medieval rack, complete with pulleys, and loops for the wrists and ankles. Rachel and Sandra started to shiver with fear, only increased as they came around the corner into the dungeon's source of light.

There were ring-bolts and chains hanging from the walls, whose purpose was obvious, and there was a huge cast-iron brazier in the middle of the floor, with a stone step by the side of it. It was full of red-hot coals, and irons of various types stuck out from it.

But what made the two girls gasp were its attendants – for by the side of the brazier stood none other than Natalya and Dana, both clad in thigh-length spike-heeled boots, black leather corsets and long black silk gloves.

'Mmmm,' said Natalya, 'I see you have brought Barbara. I can hardly wait to brand her.'

Jacqueline pulled the terrified Rachel into position, face to the wall, and Dana stripped off her robe, then clipped her handcuffs to ringbolts above her head.

Natalya took a casual step to the brazier, and pulled out one of the irons. Not satisfied, she replaced it, and tried another. It was glowing bright red. With a glance at Sandra, as if to confirm the she was next, she plunged it hard down on to Rachel's right buttock. Rachel's body contorted, and she screamed, a terrible wailing shriek, from the bottom of her soul, then she passed from consciousness.

At that, Natalya, sat on the stone pier, and very deliberately opened her legs, separating her shaven pink labia with both hands. Dana dropped to her knees in front of her and started to tongue her, lapping up the juices which oozed from her excited cunt.

But Jacqueline was busy taking the unconscious Rachel down, slipping her robe about her, and throwing her bodily down onto the wooden bed in what passed for a sleeping compartment.

Then it was Sandra's turn to be chained to the wall, her fear all the more because of the waiting, and watching her friend being branded. She tried to steel herself, but, when the moment came, the pain was, as she suspected truly terrible, and she, too, passed out, and woke up some time later, her arse on fire, finding it quite impossible to get comfortable on the stark wooden board.

Time seemed to stand still, and they had no idea whether an hour or a day had passed. They could call to one another through the bars, but the hopelessness of their situation seemed beyond discussion, so they didn't talk any more.

Some time later, Jacqueline came again, and said, 'Strip!'

Sandra got awkwardly to her feet and shrugged off her robe, feeling the pain, not only of her branding (she didn't even know what it said), but also of her terrible whipping, and the sheer difficulty posed by the leg-irons.

Jacqueline helped her on with a black robe, and said, 'This is for Phase Three, the final phase.'

'Do we get to go then?' asked Sandra

'Come,' said Jacqueline, by way of an answer, and picked up both girls' leashes. She led them through another door, into a small dark dungeon, lit by a single bulb in the stone ceiling. There was a heavy wooden cross fastened to the wall, which bore many nail marks in the arms, each of which had trickles of dried blood running down from them, as if someone had been crucified. Then Jacqueline stopped before a huge iron contraption, waving towards it, 'The Maiden,' she announced.

Sandra examined it in abject terror. When its door was closed, great needle-sharp spikes would transfix anyone within. She fingered a spike, and found it was covered in fresh blood.

Sandra knew instantly what had happened to the girls who had disappeared from this part of France – and she knew what was to be their fate.