The French Club

On their first evening they were too jet-lagged to do anything but sleep. During the next day, they engaged in the standard activities of a first-time tourist in Paris, the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysée, shopping, and so on. Matt insisted they rest from 4–6 pm.

At dusk, drinking champagne, Janice changed into her new lingerie and the clothes she'd purchased during the day at two specialty boutiques she'd been directed to. These expensive outfits were black, either sheer, revealing, constricting, or otherwise conducive to their roles as submissives. The clothes frequently had straps, wide belts, and sheer lace.

They met their master in the sitting room and enjoyed more champagne. The hotel thoughtfully – and discreetly – provided a large armoire full of all the implements Matt could think of. Despite the heat, Matt turned off the air conditioning and opened the French doors. He told his slave mother to remove everything except her shelf bra, garter belt, stockings and heels. He strapped her to iron rings drilled into the marble at the sides of the main fireplace.

Janice had begun perspiring from the August heat, the exoticness of their surroundings, and from apprehension about whether Matt would inflict some new torture or debasement on her, some unknown level of pain and pleasure. He could feel her excitement. He lit a small fire so it would light her glistening body. Immediately, he saw her slut juices streaking the inside of her thighs, reflected in the firelight. He wiped his fingers through Janice's juices, held his fingers in front of her face, and told her to lick them off.

At that moment, room service arrived. An attractive man and a young woman pushed a serving cart into the sitting room. This surprise appearance made both Janice cringe with humiliation. Janice noted that the maid's traditional uniform was much like the one Janice wore during the degrading dinner she'd had with Matt and her sister. The two staff members arranged the cold buffet. When they were about to leave, Matt tried to tip them. The butler informed him that, rather than tip with cash, many guests gave a single gratuity, before their departure, in the form of their slaves. Matt thought that was an excellent idea.

The morning of the club meeting, a large black Mercedes took them to the country spa. Janice woke up feeling apprehensive and could not eat any breakfast. Although not enormous, the chateau was large and beautifully kept. They did not see any other guests. The butler escorted them directly to their suite, where fresh fruits, flowers and drinks awaited them. He spoke perfectly acceptable English, suggesting they relax by the pool where a light lunch could be served. Following luncheon, a walk around the grounds might be pleasing.

"Monsieur and Madame, please be sure to rest this afternoon before dinner, since tonight will probably continue many hours. Champagne and hors d'oeuvres begin at eight o'clock."

"Where are the other guests?" Matt asked.

"They will be arriving later in the afternoon," he said.

A pretty young maid unpacked Janice's luggage in the smaller bedroom, appearing to be familiar with the special bras, panties, stockings, thongs, waist cinchers, garter belts and other exotic lingerie.

In the master bedroom, the maid carefully unpacked Matt's clothes and paraphernalia, organizing the ropes, clamps, dildos, chains, weights, rings and other items in orderly groupings within the drawers.

The two of them enjoyed a couple of hours at the pool, swimming and reading, where they enjoyed a lovely lunch. After changing, they strolled around the magnificent grounds and returned to their suite to rest by mid-afternoon.

Two more maids arrived in the late afternoon, slightly older than the first one. By now, Janice was nervous. Matt gave them instructions on certain details and they carried a box of items into the dressing room adjacent to the bathroom.

They whisked her into the spacious bathroom, where they gave her two enemas, bathed her, and sprayed her with a tanning solution. Then they worked on cutting and styling her hair, shaving hr pussy, and applying makeup, all the while reassuring her. Anybody with her magnificent face and body would perform wonderfully, they told her. From the way her body responded to the bath and styling, they could tell the guests would like her. These comments calmed the apprehensive mother. She did not want to disappoint Matthew or embarrass Mr. Wheland.

Two hours later, Janice emerged from the bathroom/dressing room. Matt was impressed by how stunning she looked, and said so. Her lustrous black hair was cut shorter than usual, accentuating her young appearance. Her makeup was heavier than ever, but beautifully done, accentuating her eyes and lips. Her calf-length length black dress was gorgeous. The bodice was sheer, covered by a very short gray jacket that extended down just below her breasts.

At 7:00, fortified from a bottle of delicious champagne, Matt and Janice joined the others, a half dozen couples, on the terrace. They were impressed by the handsome young men, dressed like Matthew in gray or dark blue suits, and beautiful women, all finely dressed. More champagne and food was pressed on Matt and Janice. For the most part, everybody was most pleasant, excited to have their first American couple. Everybody was well-educated and therefore spoke English. A couple of the women were cool to Janice, but she'd been warned about that tendency of the French and didn't let it bother her, especially since most of the women were welcoming and friendly.

After a few minutes, Janice realized that all the women were older and that the young men were teenagers. At first she thought it was wealthy women with young bucks, but that didn't seem correct. One of the young men turned to sit on a chair around the edge of the group. As soon as he did, the woman he was with accompanied him. Except that he sat in a chair while she knelt by his side.

Janice's head rotated across the group, so animated and chic and alluring. The secret hit her full force. She was staggered by the realization, her cunt fluttering, her head dizzy. She downed almost an entire glass of champagne. No, she must be mistaken. She turned back to look at the boy sitting. He was feeding the kneeling woman. Yes, they looked just like each other. These people were just like Matthew and her – women with their sons.

Janice turned to stare at Matthew, her heart pounding. "Yes, Mother," he smiled. "They're just like us. Except they've been doing it a lot longer than we have. Each of these beauties is both a mother and a slave to her son. Although they're all gorgeous and expensively dressed, at heart they're all submissive sluts, just like you are. Now that you know the truth, you can relax." She took another glass of champagne from a waiter and swallowed hard. "But you won't be able to relax too long. As soon as it's dark, you and I will be performing for all of them. An audition of sorts, so they can determine whether or not we'll be admitted for membership."

"Membership?"

"Apparently, they visit each other all around the country. And of course the mothers serve any son – or group of sons – at any time."

She looked back at the couple on the periphery. The woman's jacket had been removed, the zipper on the front of her skirt undone, exposing her beautiful stockinged thighs and bald pussy. A pair of black panties filled her mouth and her bra had been pulled down to expose her breasts. Another boy, standing next to her, was pulling and twisting her nipples while talking to the seated boy.

Janice finished her champagne and turned back to Matt. Never before had an entire group of strangers watched her being degraded and abused by her own son, forced to service him like a cum- and fuck-slut. Everything started spinning. She collapsed into Matt's arms.

Coming: Janice is humiliated with intimate questions and passes the first test.

Chapter Five — The dinner

Janice became aware of a knocking at the door. At the last knock, she opened her eyes. The knocks were slaps to her face in order to revive her. She was seated on a plush, high-backed dining chair. In front of her was a long, rectangular table laid with beautiful cloth, china, silver, glasses and candles. Oh, the candles: dozens of them. Even though it was dusk, the multitude of candles created bright illumination. The chairs were filled with the seven members plus Matt, who sat at the end, furthest from her.

When she saw her son, Matt, it all came flooding back. Matt had been invited, with his two personal slaves, to attend a mysterious club gathering for the weekend at a fabulous mansion in the remote French countryside. The outdoor cocktail party where she'd fainted had been full of handsome boys and beautiful women. The shocking truth was that this was a slave club with a twist – the women, all mothers, were like Janice: degenerate slaves to their sons. However, none of the mothers were now presently sitting at the table.

Janice could not know they'd been sent indoors for their dinner and would rejoin them outside for Janice's initiation trial. She would never have imagined that they were avidly discussing the hot American beauty. They placed a variety of bets, such as: how much weight her nipples and labia could take in ounces, how many strokes of the whip she could withstand, whether she could deep throat her son, how many times she could be fucked in the mouth, cunt and ass in one session, and so on.

Gerard, the boy sitting directly across from Janice, was the tallest and arguably, besides Matt, the best-looking. He leaned forward to begin his inquiry. "Janice," he asked with a stern expression, "when did your physical relationship begin with Mathieu?"

Janice noted that, although Gerard spoke with a strong French accent, his English was excellent. "I don't remember. Quite some months ago, shortly after he was eighteen, before college."

The other six stared at her as intently as Gerard did. "Why did your relationship begin?"

"Well," she paused in humiliation, "I suppose, because after my husband I had no partner, even though I dated a few times. But the men were either jerks, had boring personalities, or didn't attract me physically. Whereas Matt is incredibly good-looking, smart, and . . ."

"And what?" Gerard asked.

She glanced at her son, who sat quietly. "And he was very strong, very commanding." Gerard sat still, waiting for more. "Plus, Matthew could control me. . . he corrected my bad behavior."

"Undo your jacket." She unbuttoned the short jacket, aware of the sheer material beneath. She remembered the previous times when she'd been questioned, like sitting on the coffee table in her den, topless in front of Mr. Wheland. "Now remove the jacket." Once the jacket was down to her elbows, the boy sitting to her left prevented her from removing it completely. Her arms were now pinned. Janice's eyes were closed, lost in the memory of the clips Mr. Wheland had attached to her nipples and clit. How he'd forced her to answer his insulting questions by twisting and slapping the clips. She opened her eyes, wondering if Gerard was as cruel and domineering as Mr. Wheland or the Vice Chancellor. She figured nobody could possibly be as sadistic as Father Hood. She watched the boys stare as the cool evening air hardened her nipples, so fat and prominent beneath the thin bodice.

"May I have more champagne?" she asked. Gerard nodded to the boy sitting next to her on the right. He brought a full glass to her lips. She swallowed half, gratefully. Suddenly, the boy yanked open her bodice, exposing her full breasts resting on a leather half-bra. A couple of boys murmured their approval of her tits. Abruptly, she felt the rush of champagne going to her head. "How does it feel to have your tits exposed to seven strangers?" He lit a cigarette while waiting for her answer.

"Uhhh, I feel embarassed. . . No, I feel humiliated."

Gerard exhaled a stream of smoke. "Then why do you do it?"

Several of the other boys lit cigarettes. "Ummm. . . because it pleases Matthew."

Gerard was relentless. "Is that the only reason? Because it is what your son wishes?" She sat, cringing and speechless. She darted a glance at Matt, whose expression was as stonefaced as the others.

"Janice, your face is red. Perhaps we should cool you more. Spread your legs!" As dictated by her training, she opened her legs until her shoes were outside the front chair legs. Mr. Wheland had made her spread her legs as well before forcing her to spread her outer lips. "Philippe," Gerard said to the boy on her left, who pulled her gown up her thighs until it was bunched at her waist, exposing her gorgeous thighs and the beautiful lace at the tops of the expensive French stockings. During this exposure, Janice was remembering when she was on her knees, deep-throating her son, her finger embedded in his ass, a wooden kitchen implement in her own ass, while Mr. Wheland fucked her cunt from behind.

For the first time, Gerard turned to Matt. "Mathieu, is this behavior typical? She does not answer questions?"

"It happens sometimes," Matt murmured apologetically.

"When it happens, what is your response?"

"She is punished," Matt explained.

"How do you discipline her?"

"Either she is slapped, bound, whipped, flogged, caned, clamped, or weighted."

"I see," Gerard said. "Janice, would you care for more champagne?"

"Yes, please!" Gerard leaned over the table, lifted the glass with his left hand and held it to her lips. She swallowed eagerly until he slapped her left breast with his right hand, hard. She screamed, as much from the surprise as from the pain, spewing champagne over her chest and place setting.

"I asked you a question," he said in a quiet voice. "Are you a submissive who experiences humiliation only because it is what Mathieu wishes?"

"No," she whispered, eyes downcast." "No. . . it's also because. . . because I deserve it. . . I need it."

"That is better," Gerard responded. But he was only warming up. "Is it not true that you crave punishment?" Meekly, she nodded her head. Gerard nodded his head as well.

Philippe and Rene, the other boy, pushed Janice forward until her stomach pressed against the table. Philippe placed two short, empty wine glasses in front of her. Rene lifted a champagne bottle out of an ice bucket and filled both glasses. Philippe unhooked the leather half-bra from between her breasts and moved the cups to her sides. Each boy took one of her breasts and lifted it so the fat globes rested on the wine glasses, the huge nipples extending over the edge. In spite of this new degradation, Janice giggled as the bubbles tickled her breast flesh.

The boys discussed the many marks striping her breasts. Gerard asked Matt to describe which instruments caused which lines. Gerard turned back to the mother, so lewdly on display. "In which places does your son fuck you?" he asked. Janice was aghast. She did not reply. Surely Gerard knew the answer and was simply debasing her more.

She stopped smiling when each of the boys produced a small lighter from a pocket and set it on the table, one under each nipple. "No!" she yelled, desperate. "He fucks my mouth, my cunt and my ass."

"Your reply arrived too late," said Gerard, pityingly. The boys flicked their lighters and short flames emerged. Immediately, her nipples felt the heat. To her shame, she liked the sensation and squirmed in her seat, moisture emerging from her exposed pussy. "Which orifice do you prefer?" asked Gerard, as if he had all the time in the world. She sat mutely.

When she hesitated, the boys pushed the lighters' tiny levers to the next higher position. Sweat broke out on Janice's face and chest. Her eyes fluttered, adjusting to the hotter flame. The cold champagne was a bizarre contrast to the strong heat of the flames. She wished one of them would take one of the sweating nipples into his mouth and bathe it, or maybe pump her clit. "I like it most in my mouth. . . and in my ass."

"You must learn to respond promptly, Janice. Continué," Gerard ordered, shoving back his chair and walking around the table until he stood behind her chair.

Phiippe and Rene each produced a metal keychain connected to a small metal key ring. When the boys placed each of the key rings on a nipple and raised the flames another notch, Janice quickly understood. The bottoms of the chains swayed in and out of the flames, the metal conducting the heat directly to her nipples.

Marc, the boy with the largest upper body strength stood, walked over to her chair, pulled her top off her arms so they were free, inserted his arms under hers, and lifted Janice. While he held her raised, Philippe positioned a double dildo on the seat of her chair while Rene strapped it into place. Philippe lubricated the anal dildo.

Upon Gerard's signal, Marc lowered Janice until her groin made contact with the dildos. Philippe guided the large cock into her cunt while Rene aligned the big anal dick with her dark ring. Upon the double insertions, her eyes closed with pleasure, she cried "Arrrggghhh!" But her eyes flashed open with frustration when Marc refused to lower her any further.

Instead, Gerard raised one of two metal tools. It was a four-inch, round metal cylinder. At the base was a wheel that rotated. At the other end, four pincer claws opened. Janice's eyes widened with dread. It was a type of tong, used for picking up sugar cubes. Gerard smiled and leaned forward, twisting the knob so the pointed claws closed around the tip of her nipple, above the key ring, just enough so the metal hung down. Janice struggled in resistance, her legs shaking with the strain, but Marc easily held her.

Gerard loosely attached the claws on her other nipple. He glanced at Marc to be sure he was ready. Marc nodded. Janice was in such a state of arousal and pain that she looked on as if someone else's breasts were being tortured in front of her. Time slowed as she watched Gerard slowly twist the first knob. The boys were rapt as the gleaming pincers applied pressure to the fat black nipple, causing it to bulge and elongate. Janice was as amazed as the rest to see the metal pincers sink deeply—at least a half inch—into the nipple buds from all around it. Janice screamed. Inside the mansion, the mothers paused in their dinner, distracted by the screams, wondering what novel abuse their sons were engaged in.

The boys had never seen anything like this: a submissive whose nipples were so lengthy that two appliances could be attached, a key ring and tongs. Nor had they ever witnessed a slave mother whose nipples were as thick as this one's. She did not immediately feel the pain as a separate sensation, nor was she aware of her screaming, because at that moment Marc released her arms. Her weight sank her down on the double dildos and she climaxed in a second orgasm that engulfed her in an ocean of ache and bliss.

Gerard had prepared two more questions for Mathieu's slave mother. "How many men do you like to fuck in an evening, you slut? And will you fantasize that we are all your sons?" Without waiting for a response, Janice's tormenter screwed the second set of points into her nipples, leaving the final sadism to Philippe and Rene. In tandem, they dropped the lighters and, holding short canes, rained down a flurry of strikes on the tops and sides of her breasts.

The boys dropped the canes and, each holding the stem of a wine glass in one hand, used the other hand to grasp a breast and plunge the burning nipple and hardware into the champagne glasses.

Janice screamed in a berserk ongoing orgasm, the searing heat from her clit merging with the searing coldness of her nipples, fused into a burning ecstasy. She smashed her thighs into the table, knocking over the two glasses as she crashed up and down on the chair.