tagNovels and NovellasThe Courtesan's Journal Ch. 4

The Courtesan's Journal Ch. 4


Soon after my grandmother's death, Eleanor decided that I needed to be taught in the ways of dominance. As the headmistress, it was a simple thing for her to get me hired on to an infamous opera singer. Eleanor cautioned me to play the part of the virgin, which I did with complete perfection.

When Madame arrived at the school, she appeared thrilled with her new charge. I had taken special pains that day to wear my school uniform and braids, giving me the charming appearance of innocent youth. She inquired as to my age, and having learned I was over eighteen, a faint sweat appeared on her brow. Once under way, Madame offered me a sip from her travel flask. After several such sips, I pretended to be inebriated and allowed myself to admit to several very personal masturbatory explorations from her less than delicate questioning into that arena of my education. Madame quickly moved across the carriage and began to mimic my recollections, which although factual were also greatly embellished for her benefit. Before the carriage reached the train station, Madame had given me the first of many orgasms.

From then on, Madame seduced me quickly and efficiently, caressing my breasts in her dressing rooms, fingering me under my skirts in carriages as she had that first day, sucking me to orgasm on trains despite my many protestations. She ordered me to bare my breasts whenever we were alone, even made me do my daily exercises naked while she masturbated herself. I remained a ‘virgin' up until the Madame and I arrived in Vienna.

It was in Vienna after a performance that Madame drew me down onto my knees in the conservatory and bent me over the piano bench. Madame was extremely thorough and most pleased to see a small bit of blood on the phallus she used, which didn't surprise me at all given the voracious with which she thrust into me. To this day, I have never come close to experiencing the power of her hips with another lover, although the duchess did come close and of course, the machines.

Madame took me soon after to her favorite shop and requisitioned me in an entirely new set of lingerie. Most of which seemed to have split seems between the legs. After seeing the shop owner caress my buttocks several times, Madame offered me to her. The shop owner introduced me to the delights of mutual oral sex, under the careful eye of Madame, who sipped tea in an easy chair a short distance away. The French certainly have a way with their mouths, not to mention their hands.

The shop owner took a seat next to Madame afterwards and I was then introduced to the delights of multiple simultaneous partners, as the shop owner's very knowledgeable female staff took me in hand. I was laid on the floor, while the ladies divided the duties among them. One of them kissed me, another two sucked on my breasts with their sharp little teeth barely covered, the last one fingered me while she rubbed my clitoris until I screamed in pleasure. Since then, I have spent many a beautiful evening remembering this day. Madame was always quite generous with me, giving me both lavish clothing and numerous delightfully wicked partners.

That night when Madame and I returned to our suite of rooms, her lovemaking was nearly violent but very satisfying. I can only believe that watching me with other women enflamed her, as she continued to give me to her female friends, always watching out for my safety but allowing me to come to new heights of sensual delights. Thinking back to that night, it was the most thoroughly submissive night of my life. "Take off your clothes, Margaret," she ordered. I removed my clothing slowly, with deliberate shyness, watching her dark eyes the entire time. She murmured her satisfaction at the myriad bruises the French women had made upon my body and asked whether I was bothered by unease or pain.

"No, Madame," I replied, shyly. "They make me feel quite decadent," I whispered. Madame nodded, satisfied. She waved her hand to the cabinet where she kept her sexual apparatus, telling me how to set the scene for this evening. According to her instructions, I placed several bottles of oils on the piano. The bench had been cleverly made and was quite unique. Once the cushion was removed, there was a grooved notch to which a phallus could be inserted. I did this at her instruction, pretending all the while to be shocked at her orders.

As I stood there, waiting, Madame went to the cabinet and took out a long-handled phallus of the type Eleanor preferred when she was in a dominant mood. Madame laid it on the piano bench, before binding my hands behind me. She took me in her arms, pressing my naked flesh to her stiff velvet. I shuddered delicately, loving the feel of my skin against such textures as her expensive clothes. She captured my mouth readily, willing me to submit as I always did to her ministrations.

Placing us before the mirrors, she held my head when I pretended shyness at watching our movements. It was only after she threatened to blindfold me, that I boldly watched us in the three mirrors across from us.

Her hands made quick forays over my breasts, drawing shuddering sighs from my lips. As her painted mouth moved to the tip of one breast, I felt the phallus begin to move against my outer lips. She guided it skillfully just outside my vagina until I was shaking for release. I begged her, shamelessly for entrance, but she denied me, chuckling delightedly. A few more movements, her teeth applied without mercy to my nipples and I succumbed to pleasure, calling her name repeatedly as I shook within her grasp.

"Did I give you permission to have an orgasm?" She demanded, playing the part of the outraged dominant.

"No, Madame, you did not." I agreed, readily.

She roughly turned me around so that my front was again facing the mounted mirrors. Madame made me look at myself, describing the changes in my body to her before she pressed me against the cold glass. One hand held the back of my neck, as the other forcibly rubbed the phallus between my legs from behind.

"So you think I'll give you another one, do you, slave?" Madame hissed in my ear, her own voice harsh with passion. I nodded, knowing my role very well by this time.

"Is this what the slave wants?" Madame asked, pushing the phallus a few inches inside my now drenched passage. I panted loudly, trying to thrust my hips to receive more of its length, which proved impossible, as I was still plastered to the mirror. Madame chuckled again, this time delightedly.

"Say it, what does the slave want?" Madame ordered.

I blushed prettily for her, a rare talent in a courtesan I have been told but one I was always able to display on command. I lowered my eyes demurely and whispered in a pained voice. "The slave wants more of the rod inside her."

Madame obliged, thrusting the phallus slowly into me. I bucked despite myself, for her talents in domination were quite extraordinary. I could not help the faint sheen of sweat that gathered on my skin. I bit my lip and moaned as she began her slow, gradual thrusting. Madame slid her index finger into my mouth, ordering me to be quiet. I sucked obediently on her finger, pretending to try to curtail my wild cries as she quickened her pace.

She managed to get her free hand between my breasts and the glass, pinching me wonderfully. I have always been enflamed by a carefully administered measure of roughness to my breasts and responded wantonly.

"The slave begs permission to have an orgasm," I cried, trying to hold back my pleasure as she continued to thrust the phallus between my legs. Madame gave me another round of pinches to my tight nipples, which drew forth another set of sharp cries. "The slave may have an orgasm," Madame agreed, digging her fingers into my breast as she doubled the force of the phallus within me, pushing faster and harder into my depths. It was not long before my orgasm raged through me, as I groaned her name repeatedly. She released me afterward, leaving the phallus on the piano. She went back to her chair after pouring herself a large drink.

"Madame orders you to masturbate on the bench," she said with all deliberateness. "Rub your breasts with oil, slave, they're really quite damaged at present." Although my breasts were red from being pressed to the glass for so long and bore marks from several lovers, they were hardly damaged. In fact, they felt quite wonderfully sensitive. I straddled the bench, directly behind the mounted phallus and began to rub oils into my breasts.

Madame nodded her satisfaction, watching me. I tipped my head back and began to rub my clitoris against the phallus, even as I continued rubbing. Madame called out various instructions as I continued to masturbate before her. I obeyed her every command, in either word or action. I was thoroughly enjoying myself when she finally agreed to let me mount the phallus.

I lowered myself to all fours, hands resting on the edge of the bench, as I lowered myself onto the phallus. The firm feel of it pressing into me was delicious and reminded me pointedly of Eleanor's true deflowering of me. I bit back my tutor's name as I rode the phallus on all fours, until Madame instructed me to sit so that my hands were free to squeeze my nipples again.

This continued for some time, as I was at this point really rather tired and almost uninterested in another orgasm. After a very full day of most satisfactory love making, it was almost too much for me to consider. Sensing this and being wonderfully demanding, Madame came to me and nonchalantly began to caress my breast, sipping delicately at her sherry. With my suddenly free hand, I took up the neglected phallus she had used on my earlier and used it to rub my clitoris. Madame rolled my nipple between her satin-encased fingers as I rode myself to a screaming orgasm. Still sipping her sherry, Madame excused me for the night and as I dressed to go to my room, I watched her consider the wet phallus for some time before leaving her presence.

In her careful tutelage, I learned the delicate and deliberate ways of her craft. I also made a wide array of business contacts from which the tools of the trade may be discretely purchased. I owe a good deal of my business to Madame's careful application of the rod and switch. Although I have many fond memories of Madame, I was never able to fall in love with her as I had m dear tutor. I had naively thought that given enough time, even pleasure, love was destined. Madame could be tender, gentle and almost affectionate, and inexplicably deliberate, dominating and ruthless. It was a very heady mix. Perhaps her extreme determination to become a world famous opera singer had forced her to become such an extreme personality. We kept contact over the years, Madame often arranging for my time when she was in town for an engagement. Figuring out the pricing of my time when she took me to her friends was an invigorating exchange. Madame was under the thought that since I always the most submissive in those exchanges, and often the focus of several women's sensual attention at one time that I could hardly dare to ask my full hourly rate given the pleasure I received.

Our arguments often ended with me straddling a phallus over the bench, Madame watching patiently as I obeyed her every command, bound and blindfolded and agreeing that being the submissive to such pleasure certainly called for a different rate.

Madame's piano bench was a favorite of ours since my supposed deflowering and figured prominently in our scenarios. Many years later, at her death, Madame's instructions left the piano and its bench to me. A lovely reminder of our summer together, I was very touched to have received it in her will.

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