Juliana Ch. 12

And then Hell had broken loose.

This new strange and sudden feeling for the big bad doctor was a conditioned revelation, embedded in fear, dampened by reservation. It was also taboo, popping up like a burning coal in a bucket of ice. During her first stay at the villa, amidst storms of emotions and radical experiences, she heard it sizzle and felt its glow spreading. She couldn't believe it; she didn't want to believe it.

When she returned from her disastrous night with Alec, Dr. Charrier had been waiting at the door of the villa, surprising her. She wondered why he was there; he was a busy man. But he had rushed over to her, locking her in a bearlike embrace that muffled the beat of her racing heart.

"You returned," he said. "You are back."

Juliana looked up, seeing frowned eyebrows in the concerned face of a boy. And the glow returned inside her, burning its way straight through the ice. A storm of feelings overwhelmed her. It could hardly be love, could it? Motherly love, maybe, the urge to protect.

It was silly, she knew – she, Juliana Austin, the captive whore slave protecting her master? Still, there was a sudden exhilaration – was it happiness? But there was also a darker tinge, a sense of... power – was it control?

Leaning into the mighty embrace of her warden, standing there at the entrance to her prison she felt herself growing bigger, until she loomed over his shrinking presence.

"Yes, Eugene," she whispered, establishing her new position. "Yes, of course I'm back." And they kissed.

Now she was here, ready to once more play their topsy-turvy game of power. Not a game, really, but a serious, secret dance denying the charade of their public life. No one knew how she catered to his hidden urges, except for John, maybe. At the villa she stayed the submissive girl, servicing clients, guests and friends, dressing sexy and undressing fast. Charrier often watched. He'd shown her his secret closets and hidden peepholes, but he just as often was present in person, urging on his pets and their guests. He kept renting Juliana out for weekends, parties and once even for a week long vacation on a yacht. She took the regular humiliations gladly; she was a content slave to her body's greedy needs – an enthusiastic apprentice at the school of deprivation.

But this, in the end, was what she came to live for: mothering her big boy, controlling him by making him loose control. As she was on the brink of doing now...

"Come to mommy, baby," she said in a low, sweet voice, gripping the big black snake. "Suck her cock and make it ready for your tight, hungry pussy."

***

Juliana never left the villa again. Her divorce from Alec Austin was quick and painless; a bill was torn up and a sum of money changed hands. She knew she'd meet him at the signing of the papers and she dressed outrageously. He brought a girl, young, but quite slutty. After signing, Juliana walked over, extending her hand. He ignored it. She shrugged.

Juliana's peculiar relation with the neurosurgeon who saved her ex-husband's life became gradually closer. Charrier's flippant decision to make Juliana his whore had proved to be the start of something bigger than him – or her, as a matter of fact. They took more and more time off to be together in secrecy. In the end it all led to an evening on the island of St. Kitts when, after a private dinner, Eugene Charrier went down on one knee, presenting her a long black box. She opened it to find a huge black dildo on purple satin. Stuck to its shining head was a diamond ring. She looked up, meeting his eyes; thaey once more belonged to her little boy.

"Mrs. Austin," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "will you become my husband?"

Their marriage was a huge occasion held at an ancient villa in Tuscany. Charrier wore a white tuxedo and Juliana's lithe body was tightly tubed in a white mini dress. People agreed they were an odd couple – the mighty old elephant marrying a sweet little mouse. But they also agreed that the couple's love shone through every glance and movement.

Juliana never stopped performing for her husband, and in the privacy of their bedroom they never stopped turning their world upside down.

Then it all came to a sudden halt.

Ten years into their marriage, Eugene Charrier suffered a massive stroke. It was painfully ironic to see the mighty surgeon slain by an enemy he'd fought his whole life – often successfully. But now he just lay there defeated and in a coma, looking large and pink in the whiteness of his hospital bed. All around him cheerfully beeping machines kept him alive for yet a little while.

Juliana Charrier again watched an unconscious husband, but this time she knew he was dying. She pondered the kind of man he'd been. Juliana loved him, but she never fooled herself. He wasn't a good man, Eugene Charrier. Feeling inadequate to find a normal relation, he had used his talents and his position to force women into a life of prostitution, using their despair to make money out of. But most of all: to make them fulfill his frustrated fantasies.

She knew that morally he was a bad person, but then again, how much of a moral person was she? Maybe there had been too much morality in her youth to accept it as a blockade on her way to what she wanted.

Juliana felt sad after Charrier left her, but she knew she wouldn't be alone. She had friends.

Ellis McCormick still regularly visited the villa to service clients – no longer for the money as the medicine for her mother kept being miraculously paid for after Juliana married Charrier. She came for the pleasure, and for meeting a good friend.

Selena Smith, the butterscotch beauty, never stopped either, when Charrier started paying her child's medicine. Now she used the money she made to get herself through college.

Melinda Carter – or Melinda Melon as her stage name was – had reached FF status by now. Juliana decided that the girl could very well keep paying her way into balloon-hood.

Dr. Charrier left her a wealthy widow. She sold the clinic to Fleming and moved to Florida, where she shared a large house with Aimée and Jack, who'd retired. She never remarried. She also never told Aimée about the sunny penthouse she bought in nearby Jacksonville – and the purpose she bought it for. Finally, how could she deny her and her friends' bodies the pleasures they had gotten so fondly used to?

THE END