The Seigneur looked down at Yvain, who had her maidservant Gizela over her knee, bottom the colour of tomato. He said, “I’d wondered what that noise was. I mean, it’s a familiar enough sound, but I was surprised to find you making it.”

“My Seigneur, have I done wrong?”

“Of course not. I told you it’s part of your job to keep your servant in order. Though you’re more her slavegirl than her servant really, aren’t you, Gizela?”

Gizela’s face was suddenly nearly as red as her bottom.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girls, both of you. Now, Gizela, get up now.”

“Yes, Master.” Gizela kissed Yvain’s thigh, murmured, “Mistress,” and stood, facing the Seigneur.

He smiled, again. “Gizela, you’re a provoking girl, aren’t you?”

“I try to be, Master.”

“Hah! Well, we’ll both finish your discipline later. Your mistress may not be allowed to use implements, but you’ll find that I am.”

“Yes, Master.” Gizela’s eyes still sparkled. This was a promise, not a threat.”

“Go and stand in the corner there, Gizela, hands on head, and don’t move or make a sound until you’re told.”

“Master.” Gizela removed herself to the side of the room, knowing she was making that corner far more interesting with her presence. Yvain glanced at her once, then looked up at her Seigneur. “My Seigneur. May I make your guests welcome?”

“Please.” The Seigneur stood aside. “Beldam, you first.”

The Beldam entered, looking sternly down at Yvain, who she had flogged, or ordered flogged, several times in the past. She did not smile.

The Seigneur said, “Beldam, you have lost the right to discipline either of these two girls. Discipline of the girl in the corner is shared between Yvain and me, while discipline of Yvain is solely a matter for me.”

“Yes, my Seigneur. I understand.” If the Beldam had any feelings about what was, effectively, a demotion, she did not show it.

“And you will from now on address Yvain as, ‘Mistress’. And Yvain, you now have the same limited right to punish the Beldam when necessary as you have with Gizela.”

The Beldam said, “My Seigneur.” She bowed her head to Yvain, and said, “Mistress.”

Yvain thought for a second. She had fear to overcome. Then she said, “You will address me as ‘My Mistress’, Beldam, or I see you join Gizela, in the same place and posture, and clothing, waiting for my hand.”

The Beldam stared at her. That was quite unexpected. Then she said, “Yes, my Mistress. I’m sorry, of course.”

The Seigneur smiled. “It is the wheel of fortune, Beldam. And have no fear. Even as things change, you will still have an honoured place.”

The Beldam nodded. She had already accepted the change. “My Seigneur.”

The Seigneur waved her back to the wall, and she took her place, out of the way, watching what happened.

The Seigneur stepped away from the door. “Come in, Alfredo.”

Two men entered, one in red and gold vest, doubloon and tights, in the fashion of the island of Angleterre. The other man followed his master, wearing only a small iron collar round his neck, attached to a chain in Alfredo’s hands. His buttocks and the backs of his thighs blushed as brightly as Gizela’s. He was embarrassed by, but unable to hide or suppress, his erection.

He stared, pleading, at Yvain. It was the man who, just two days ago, had married her: Matteo.

Yvain lay on her stomach, her Seigneur’s cock slowly shrinking but still present in her anal passage. His head was beside hers and she tried to smile at him, perhaps kiss him. But his eyes were closed and his breathing deep and slow. He had, as she’d heard village women say men sometimes would, fallen asleep. 

She made kissy lips at him, but she wouldn’t disturb him by moving for a real kiss. Fortunately the bed was soft and deep, so although he weighed more than her, and it took most of his weight. She closed her eyes too.

When she woke up he had gone. She said, “Wha’? Where?”

Gizela appeared. “He went out. He said he had something he had to show you. I’m sorry, but I don’t know where he’s gone.” 

Gisela was supposed to address her as ‘mistress’. For the first time in her life, Yvain felt a certain kind of urge. The Seigneur, of course, must feel it always. She said, “Why did you not address me as mistress?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.” 

“Gizela, I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked for an explanation. Why did you address me without proper respect?” 

Gizela smiled. “I didn’t disrespect you, Mistress.”

Yvain knew her duty, then. And she knew what Gizela had been pushing for. “Still no explanation, Gizela! And then you dare to argue with me?” She saw the cane lying on the bed beside her pillow. She indicated it without touching it. “Fortunately for you, my Seigneur has forbidden me the use of implements on you. Or the whole castle would hear your pleadings. But you, little slavegirl, get over my knee. Now!”

Yvain sat up then, to allow Gizela to place herself over her lap. Yvain rested her hand on the small of Gizela’s back, and saved down at Gizela’s offered, vulnerable bottom and thighs. Gizela was still red, the stripes still visible, from the last flogging she’d had at Karl’s hands.

Yvain felt no pity. She knew the comfort of that feeling from the warmth in her own bottom, where the Seigneur had caned her late last night, before taking her anally. She said, knowing what the answer would be, “Are you sorry, little slavegirl? Gizela?”

“I never disrespected you! So how can I be sorry?” 

Yvain smiled. She would never play that game with her Seigneur, but she recognised it. She said, “See that hourglass, on the drawers beside the bed?”

“Yes.” Still no ‘mistress’! Yvain recognised now how provoking these games of defiance could be. She felt certainty in herself that the punishment she was about to administer was just. And she would enjoy giving it. That Gizela would enjoy it as well was a mere detail. “Turn the hourglass over.”

Gizela said, “Yes,” in the most sullen voice she could produce, and obeyed. The sand began to run. Yvain, for the first time in her life, brought down her hand on another girl’s buttocks, intending to give hurt and, though they would not openly acknowledge it, pleasure.

Gizela said “Ow!”, not with complete sincerity, while the clap of that first spank still rang in the room. Yvain pressed harder on the small of Gizela’s back, and continued the spanking, her hand targeting Gizela’s bottom and thighs, sometimes moving, sometimes aiming a series of hard spanks, most unfairly, onto the same spot. Gizela wriggled and kicked and squealed, though she made sure she didn’t fall off her mistress’s thighs. 

Yvain said, “Who do you belong to?” Then she resumed the spanking, harder than before.

“The Seigneur!” 

“And who else?” 

“I used to belong to Karl!”

“Heavens, girl, I wish I was allowed to cane you!” Gizela was suddenly still. Yvain stroked her fingers along the slavegirl’s cunt. She was, of course, gloriously wet.

“I will beg the Seigneur to give you permission, mistress.”

Yvain smiled. She knew that she and her slavegirl had embarked on sex together, and that if the Seigneur was out for much longer she would find a better use for Gizela’s tongue. She resumed the spanking, now using all of her strength, holding nothing back. Gizela’s moan, for the first time, felt real.

The punishment had finally begun. Yvain said, “Do you think you can come, just from my punishing you?”

“If you let me press my cunt hard against your thigh, mistress. I didn’t dare.”

Yvain shrugged impatiently. “You may.”

It was like a soft wet flower was kissing her right thigh. She resumed the spanking, still as hard as she could. Gizela’s buttocks and thighs were now a bright crimson, against which Karl’s marks were still visible as darker lines.

The hourglass was running down. Yvain removed her hand from Gizela’s back, still spanking with all her might, and slipped two fingers of that hand inside Gizela’s cunt. The slavegirl screamed, laughed and sobbed, suddenly bucking hard against Yvain’s thigh, toes tight clenched. 

Then there was peace. Mistress and maid, softly breathing together. At last Gizela said, “Turn that hourglass again, Gizela.”

But she had barely resumed the spanking, setting Gizela crying and wailing again, when the door opened. It was the Seigneur. He gazed down on her, surprised and it seemed pleased. She felt rather than saw that there were people behind him.

Yvain said, “My Seigneur. I’m dealing with disrespect.” She smacked Gizela again, while he watched.d.

Yvain lay across the bed, feet wide apart on the floor, her bottom slightly raised, for her Seigneur’s attentions. Her maid, Gizela, leaned over the other side of the bed, to hold Yvain’s hands and murmur encouragement while her Seigneur caned her.

Yvain looked in Gizela’s huge, dark eyes throughout her punishment. It was the hardest discipline she had endured to that moment, but when she thanked him breathlessly for each stroke she meant it. 

The Seigneur said, “You’ve been a good girl, and brave. Last stroke, Yvain.” She heard the cane swish through the air, not touching her, and she knew he made the sound to tease her, and try  her courage.

Gizela whispered, “The last one is always the hardest. Just hold my hands tight, and stay in place.”

The Seigneur was silent and apparently motionless behind her. He wanted her to experience the waiting, the conflict in her between the pain and her use of that pain to intensify her desire.

The pain seemed somehow both sexual and … right. It ruled her as she wanted to be ruled. She feared it and wanted it, at once.

At last with no warning the cane lashed her, with a sharp loud, rattan across soft flesh, snd its brand of fire across her bottom, reaching over to bite into her hip. Yvain yowled, since she hadn’t been told she was to be silent, but fought the urge to squirm and kick. Her eyes, now tear-filled stared into Gizela’s, as if taking strength from them. The pain burned and slowly became tolerable, fire becoming warmth. She was both relieved and somehow faintly disappointed that her discipline was over. “Twelve, thank you, my Seigneur.”

She felt his hands then, cupping her bottom, then his fingertips gently stroked, pressed and explored her twelve raised stripes. “You’re such a good girl.” 

Yvain smiled, though her tears still flowed. She liked being good, and loved his admiration for her when she was. Then his hands clasped her hips. She recognised that: it was the way he’d held Gizela when he’d buggered her. She reached back to take his cock in her right hand.

He was hard, like wood in soft silk. He gasped at the contact with her fingers, and Yvain again knew how much of the power she had, in this room. 

She placed his cock to the entrance of her little hole, and tried to relax, as much as she could to allow him entrance. He pressed forward, and she found herself yielding in one sudden moment, and his cock was inside her. Just the head, and at that penetration, that invasion she raised her head, and breathed, “Aaah.”

She felt him trembling with the effort of self-control, though he’d been less gentle with her than he’d been with Gizela. She knew he wanted to take her slowly, and at the same time to plunge deep and hard into her. She said, “Please. Please, hard, my Seigneur.”

She heard him take an exasperated breath. It wasn’t her place to make such requests. Then his grip tightened on her hips and he lunged forward, filling her in one thrust. Yvain raised her head again: “Yaaarrh!”

The Seigneur let go of her hips then, and ran his hands along her belly, and then held her breasts, his cock firmly in place. Yvain thought she could feel his pulse, in the large vein along the top of that cock. They were joined more completely than they’d ever been. The cock in her stretched her, and it was a sensation unlike anything she’d ever felt before. As with the discipline, but more unambiguously pleasurably, it felt like his conquest and her very willing surrender. She was his, and she’d never felt that so much before.

At last, her Seigneur withdrew till just the head of his cock was still inside. Then he thrust forward, and she remembered to relax to give him easy access, and squeezed her muscles on him the next time he withdrew. She knew it maximised his pleasure, but it was also a signal that he was welcome, and that she didn’t want him to leave. She was serving him and being served.

She felt him reach back to spank the side of her bottom and smiled. They moved together, fucking slowly and strong, Yvain missing his cock when it withdrew and feeling somehow warm when it returned to fill her and their bodies pressed together. She said, “Oh my Seigneur.”

He spanked her again. “My good little piglet. My Yvain.” He sped up then. Yvain struggled to continue her routine, squeezing on the withdrawal, and relaxing for the thrusts, but as he began to fuck her harder it got harder to time her reactions. She suspected he no longer cared, but she did her best, though they were moving together faster, and then faster.

His right hand spanked her again, and his left reached under her to stroke her cunt. She gasped with shock and pleasure, and kept still for a time, frozen while he fucked her hard and stroked her. At last she felt a sensation build in her, a wall or wave of pleasure, that needed to burst. Remembering what Gisela had said, she breathed, “Permission?”

“Hmm?”

“Permission? May I come, my Seigneur?”

His hands returned to her hips and he fucked her hard now, using her for his pleasure. At last he said, “No. Not yet. Hold on, Yvain. Stay on the edge.”

His hand returned to her cunt, his cock driving her hard, pushing her further onto the bed, putting more of his weight on her. thighs and back. Yvain wailed.

At last, though it may have been only seconds later, he said, “Now! Now come, girl.”

The wall or wave collapsed, and Yvain felt herself carried over some obstacle into a world where everything moved, and she was in bliss and she was helpless. She wailed again, this time in lost pleasure. A few seconds later she felt her Seigneur pause for a second and then thrust somehow deeper than he had before. She felt him come, the throbbing of his cock and the little, anticlimactic but important splash of his fluids inside her.

He lay full on her, his thighs between hers, his hands on the backs of her hands. He said, “Good girl, good girl, good girl. Yvain.”

Yvain sighed. She’d feared that being buggered would hurt and give her no pleasure: how could it? But she was in a new world now. Like she’d climbed a wall into some hidden garden. She said, “O my Seigneur. My good Seigneur.”  

Yvain watched as Gizela reached back to take her Seigneur’s cock and hold it positioned against her little hole. Yvain thought it seemed impossible for her Seigneur’s cock to enter so small and tight a place. Gizela looked over at her mistress. “You hold his cock and guide it in. It’s more comfortable that way. And no matter how much you relax, there’s always some resistance, until the head of his cock’s inside. And with all the lube, you can have it going skating off, which you don’t want.” Then she looked down at her pillow. “Ready, master,” she announced. 

Yvain watched as the Seigneur pushed forward. He seemed to be trying to be gentle. After a brief pause while Gizela held him and held her breath, he suddenly moved forward and Gizela was impaled, the glans of her master’s cock in her bottom. The shaft was still outside, connecting their bodies. Gizela squealed and let go of the Seigneur’s cock, since her hand was no longer needed.

She nowused her hands to hold her buttocks spread for him. She said to Gizela, her voice muffled by pillow, “Even the first time, it won’t hurt nearly as much as you fear. Some girls learn to like it, over time, but I don’t think that’ll be you. I think you’ll be like me, and experience it as deeply hot, right from the start.”

Yvain said to her servant, “It does look very … intimate.”

Gizela turned her head and smiled, while the Seigneur pushed slowly forward, taking her deeper, and, Yvain was sure, feeling every inch or fraction of an inch that he gained. Gizela’s was high-pitched now, and sounded out of breath. “It’s – UH! – very personal and very sexy. But mistress, you have to remember that you’re there to serve his pleasure, so you keep yourself open and relaxed until he’s all the way in.”

The Seigneur smacked Gizela’s flanks, fondly, and pushed until their bodies were pressed tight together. Gizela said, “Once you start to fuck, the master likes you to squeeze his cock with your muscles, holding him tight when he withdraws a little, and then relaxing so there’s no resistance when he presses forward. So you have to stay focussed on his movements. Understand, mistress?”

Yvain, with some sense of being daring, put her hand on her Seigneur’s buttocks, feeling his muscles stretch when he withdrew, and tighten when he pushed forward. He murmured, “Good girl,” as he continued to fuck Gizela. Yvain wondered which of them he meant. Prtobably both of them, she decided.

Minutes passed, and Yvain watched her Seigneur fucking her maid. His face was almost a mask, intent on actions and sensations. At last Gizela whispered, “Permission to come, Master? May I come, please?”

The Seigneur smacked Gizela’s flank harder. He slowed down. “No, Gizela. Of course you can’t, and you know it. Who comes first?”

“You do, master, unless you wish it otherwqise.”

“Well yes. But out of the two of you, who gets to come first?”

“Mistress!”

“I think I’ll ask your mistress to remind you of that, in a while. We’ll see how hard her hand is. Now.” He withdrew from Gizela entirely, causing her to moan, briefly, with frustration. His face seemed to soften when he looked at Yvain. “So. I hope you paid attention to your maid’s lessons. And you’re ready to apply them.”

“I will do my best, my Seigneur. My utmost.”

He smiled. “Of course you will. Now, Yvain, tell your maid to get up and get back to work. She needs to bring us a warm, soapy cloth.”

Yvain passed on those instructions, and Gizela disappeared obediently into the antechamber that held washing water and the jakes. Yvain said, “Shall I put myself in position, my Seigneur?”

“Not quite yet.” Gizela emerged with the cloth. The Seigneur said, “Yvain, what order do you give your maid now?”

“Gizela, wash your master’s cock. And then re-apply the lube.And do it properly if you don’t want to feel my hand.”

The Seigneur laughed, and applauded, with perhaps a trace of irony. “Excellent! You’re always a clever girl, Yvain! Now, what should you do next?”

Yvain looked at her Seigneur. She remembered what Gizela had told her, that she would be taken this way after she’d been punished, when that was necessary. And, she knew, she had twelve strokes of the cane coming. She said, “Gizela!”

“Yes, mistress?”

“Fetch the cane and give it to your master!” Then she looked down at the Seigneur’s feet, she hoped looking suitably demure and submissive. She said, “My Seigneur, and then I bend over the bed. For whatever you choose to do with me?”

The Seigneur stepped forward, and took her in his arms. He kissed her, his hands holding her slim buttocks, his cock pushing, hard and slippery against her belly.