Yvain watched Matteo, her husband – she supposed he still had that title, formally, until their wedding was annulled – shuffle forward, naked, on his knees, mouth held open, to approach his Master. Alfredo stood, took his belt off and undid his robe just far enough to allow Matteo to bring his face to his Master’s penis, hands still clasped behind his back, and press his open lips on the head of his Master’s cock.

Matteo took the cock in, all the way, so his lips were pressed against his Master’s groin. After nearly a minute he began, slowly, to move his head. Yvain could see the left side of his face, the cheek concave with his effort. She wondered if men’s mouths, being a little larger, were better made to take the penis, or whether Matteo’s skill and commitment was the product of discipline even harsher than she had experienced since their wedding day, when she had entered the castle. Both, she decided.

Alfredo brought his belt down, raising vertical stripes on Matteo’s buttocks while he pleasured his Master. Each stroke was delivered at the moment Matteo’s lips kissed his Master’s thick black pubic hair, and the cock was deep in his mouth and throat. The strokes came at intervals of about twenty seconds. 

Alfredo breathed out, in pleasure. He looked then, at Yvain’s lap.

He no longer looked at her eyes: he recognised her seniority, at least to him. “My Mistress, I should like to whip this man, your husband, with something stronger than my belt. May I – ?”

Yvain smiled. This really was an odd circumstance. She said, “Gizela, bring Alfredo a short, heavy whip, please. One I haven’t felt myself yet.”

“Mistress.” Gizela went to the cupboard where the Seigneur kept his implements. She took one that a passing prince had given the Seigneur, and briefly held it to the Seigneur for his approval.

The Seigneur looked stern. “I’m sure your Mistress is aware that what is mine is now hers also.” Yvain gasped. She had not known that. Then she composed herself, pretending as best she could that it was not news.

The Seigneur added, “And I’m sure she’ll want to remind you, later, not to question her orders or refer them to me. Do as your Mistress told you.”

Gizela tried to look sorry, though the prospect of going over Yvain’s knee was hardly a deterrent.

Yvain thought that if she really pleasured her Seigneur well, and perhaps Gizela did too, she might be allowed to use a paddle, at least, on that girl. Gizela said, with great sincerity, “I’m sorry, my Master. And I apologise, Mistress. I promise I’ll be very good while you punish me.”

The Seigneur laughed briefly and smacked Gizela’s bottom, sending her over to Alfredo. He took the whip courteously, but did not thank her – one does not thank slaves for obedience – and raised it over his shoulder.

The loud – almost deafening – clap the whip made when it lashed down over Matteo’s left buttock and biting down on his thigh was almost frightening. At least it was for Yvain, who knew she would experience something similar soon enough. Matteo stiffened under the blow, and his body seemed to collapse against his Master’s legs. But he did not pause or falter in his service to Alfredo’s cock.

The lash rang out again, and again, and again. Yvain thought Matteo muist be in absolute agony, and wondered if she could take as much. But his cock was still hard, straining in the air as if ready to burst. He certainly felt it, but not exactly as pain. She expected she would be the same.

Alfredo now put his left hand on the back of Matteo’s head and at last began to move, fucking Matteo’s throat. He continued to whip his slave, but there was no longer any regularity to the strokes. Yvain noticed that some of the lashes had cut her husband’s skin, and there were small trickles and traces of blood on his thighs and lower buttocks. But that did not deter Alfredo’s hand, or Matteo’s cock. 

Yvain wondered if her Seigneur would ever make her bleed. She suspected not: he might feel it would spoil the beauty of his possession. In any case it was his decision. She heard Alfredo grunt, low, throatily and loud. Then he said, “You are not at home, gosling. You may not come.”

Alfredo grabbed Matteo’s head in both hands then, the whip draped down Matteo’s back, and began to thrust slow, hard and deep. Then he sped up, frenzied and fast, and suddenly lifted his head and howled, his voice surprisingly high-pitched. He howled twice more, at decreasing pitch as he came. Yvain noted Matteo swallowing furiously. Like her, he’d  been told not to let a drop escape. 

At last Alfredo relaxed, his slave still swallowing and sucking lightly, while he softened in Matteo’s mouth. Yvain felt the Seigneur’s hand on her shoulder. He was reassurring her, though she wasn’t sure what she needed reassurance for. She put her hand on his. 

Alfredo smiled at them, almost apologetically, and readjusted his robes, so his penis was not seen, even when he pushed Matteo back. He looked down then and said, “To the door, gosling. Then down. Right down, as you’ve learned.” 

So ‘gosling’ was Matteo’s pet name, as ‘piglet’ was Yvain’s. She wondered how he’d earned it. But while Matteo shuffled into place, his hands still clasped behind his head, Alfredo turned to the Seigneur. “I’m sorry, my Seigneur, but my slave seems to have dirtied your whip. He will clean it thoroughly, of course.”

The Seigneur squeezed Yvain’s shoulder again. “Yes, it’s a very satisfying implement, isn’t it? Of course you can borrow it. Matteo can return it, cleaned, in the morning.”

“Thank you. And with respect, my Seigneur, I have further uses planned for my little gosling here, but I do not perform certain things well with an audience. And I’m sure you would also like your privacy.”

“Of course. Thank you, Alfredo. I’m sure Yvain found that very … enlightening. And I suspect inspiring.” Yvain tightened her hand on his again. “I’ll see Matteo – or Yvain will – in the morning.”

“Then I take my leave. Gosling! I’m going to ride you. Rather thoroughly. Home!” He pulled Matteo up by his ear, and the two of them left. Gizela closed the door, but not before they heard one last clap from the whip and, for the first time, an answering gasp from Matteo.

Gizela laughed. “I think I can guess the state of Matteo’s back by the time he gets back tomorrow morning.” Then she frowned. “No, actually, I don’t think I can. He’s going to be in gosling heaven.”

The Seigneur said, “Quiet, Gizela. And I want you to bathe your Mistress now. She is about to lose her last virginity.”

Yvain looked again at the man who’d proposed to marry her, and who, in her innocence and ignorance, she’d accepted. Matteo was not a bad man, but he’d been afraid of his sexual self. In the village it was shameful to desire men, and he had approached Yvain for his own safety.

It would have made a miserable life for both of them, but fortunately the castle had taken them both in new directions. Though they were both submissive and they both desired men, their ways would begin to part more and more, she suspected, from this moment.

But they stood nose, toes and palms to the wall, bodies arched out to emphasise their availability to their respective masters. He glanced at her, and she smiled at them. They had a form of submissive solidarity, but she knew  they would get to meet only rarely from this day on.

Matteo’s cock was hard, waiting for his Master. Yvain stared at it. It was more slender, but longer than her Seigneur’s.

Her Seigneur was codfish, and her former husband was ling, she thought, and then laughed. That was silly.

There were steps outside, in the corridor, a small crowd coming nearer. Then the door opened. She heard Gizela say, “Now that is utterly sweet!” Then she heard a loud ringing slap, the sound of her her Seigneur’s hand on Gizela’s bottom for speaking out of turn. 

Gizela had to take a breath, then another, before she said, “Thank you, Master.”

The Seigneur said, “Yvain, little piglet. I take it this tableau vivant is your creation?” 

“My Seigneur, it seemed appropriate.” 

His voice was amused. She did not dare turn, let alone change her position. “You felt you might demand flogging and fucking, I think?” 

“I would not dare make any demand, my Seigneur. But I thought if you were in that mood, then we should be in readiness.”

He laughed again. “Gizela is the minx, here. You, my girl, are expected to be a queen. So I suppose I have to flog you, to remind you of your place. And then … “

“You would then wish to fuck me, my Seigneur?” Yvain tried to keep her voice innocent. 

“Yes, Yvain, all, or possibly most, roads seem to have the same destination. Come here, little piglet. Gizela, take her place.” 

Yvain left the wall and skipped joyously to her Seigneur’s arms. He smacked her and squeezed and held her, and she could feel, as she pressed herself against him, that he was hard for her. He pulled her down onto the bed, himself seated with his naked girl over his knee, and began to spank her.

He used his hand at first, and then his folded belt, setting her squealing, and breathing fast and hard. The leather lashed against her bottom and thighs, never hard, but the lashes coming inexorably so the heat built up and so did her sensitivity, though she knew he was merely playing with her.

After a while she closed her eyes and let herself float over her Seigneur’s knee, slipping into a sexual trance in which she floated, never far from the earliest pull of her orgasm. She imagined she was swimming, her body enveloped in a warm, slightly viscous lake, with a waterfall at one end.

She swam, or floated, near the point at which the water would take her and pull her irresistibly over the falls. But for the moment she floated where she could feel that pull, but but not be seized by it.

Without stopping Yvain’s gentle flogging, her Seigneur suddenly spoke. “I’m sorry Alfredo; I’ve been a poor host. You have your duty to do by Matteo, I believe.”

“Yes, my Seigneur.”

“Perhaps Yvain could witness him being whipped, for using her as a prop to disguise his true desires?”

Alfredo coughed. “With respect, my lord, I would prefer not. I have punished him well for that. The custom, as you know, is that once an offence has been dealt with, it is over. However, I will of course punish him again if you give me that order.”

“No, Alfredo. I was unaware it was dealt with. You’re right, of course. I meant that you don’t need to wait on my pleasure before you take yours.”

“Thank you, my Seigneur. Matteo?”

“Yes, Master?” Matteo stayed in position, now with Gizela beside him in the same exposed position.

“I feel like beating you for my pleasure. You’ve done nothing wrong, but you will find my mood rather … harsh. But come here on your knees. You can pleasure me first, before we begin.”

“Master!” Matteo turned and dropped to his knees, his mouth wide open as no doubt he’d been taught, and his cock bobbing as he scrambled forward.

Yvain stared at the man she had married, before she was brought to the castle for the Seigneur to take her virginities. She supposed Matteo was no longer her husband, since they had never consummated their wedding, She realised that, with what Matteo had revealed about his preferences in lust and love, that they never would.

She wondered, briefly, what their married life would have been like. Two submissives, both with strong needs that the otgher could never satisfy, and a husband who did not desire her and who, out in the village, would have to conceal what class of people he did desire. 

Matteo’s owner, master and lover Alfredo stepped behind her husband, who seemed to have been struck dumb at the sight of her. Alfedo flicked a thin leather strap across his buttocks, the kind of stroke that Yvain recognised: not a punishment yet, but a rteminder that it was time for the submissive to do as he or she had been told. 

Matteo dropped to his knees instantly, and put his forehead and the palms of his hands to the floor, in front of her. He said, “My mistress, I have come to beg your forgiveness.”

Yvain caught the Seigneur’s eye, then, and knew what he expected from her. She said, “Matteo. You may rise, though I expect you to stay on your knees.” 

Matteo knelt upright, facing her. His cock was slowly softening. He looked once, briefly and in appeal, at her eyes, then remembered his place and lowered his gaze.

The Seigneur said, “Yvain, you wanted to know if Matteo is happy with his new place. Alfredo and I will leave the two of you to talk, in private. Gizela!”

Gizela, who had been standing with her nose in the corner, hands on head, showing off her own well-disciplined buttocks and thighs, turned instantly and joined the Seigneur. “Master,” she said. He smacked her scarlet bottom affectionately and she rubbed against him and kissed his chest. He put his arm round her waist as he led Alfredo from the room.

Then Matteo and Yvain were alone. They stayed in position for some time, regarding each other, Yvain robed and seated, Matteo naked and kneeling.

Yvain said, “You see the woman you took for a wife, and your cock goes down. You would have condemned us both to a long, dreary and loveless life.”

“Mistress – ”

“You may call me Yvain, Matteo. For this conversation. And I want only the truth from you, even if you think it might hurt me. Or hurt you.”

“Yvain, I beg your forgiveness. But I was afraid. The villagers are not kind to people like me.”

Yvain nodded. Men had been whipped, or killed, for suspicion of loving other men. Most villagers feared the castle and its occupants, but there were those – herself, and for different reasons Matteo – who were safer and happier there than they would ever be outside.

“I understand that. But you used my innocence to keep yourself safe, at the expense of my chances of happiness.”

“Alfredo pointed out as much, Yvain. I have been well whipped for it.”

Yvain grinned suddenly. “Yes, I’m sure you were whipped well. And I’m sure your cock was harder than these stone walls while Alfredo educated you. I’ve had many similar lessons from my Seigneur and his staff, and I know what it’s like to be punished and at the same time experience a kind of bliss I never knew existed.”

Matteo nodded. His cock was rising again as he remembered his whipping. “Exactly! Alfredo took me afterwards. It was the first time I’d ever been fucked. It was … moving. I fell in love with him, as he buggered me. It was, perhaps, confusing.”

Yvain smiled. “I’ve had a remarkably similar experience, Matteo.” He smiled back at her. There was a moment’s complicity and mutual recognition. “Matteo, I still want you to tell me the truth, without thinking of my feelings at all. Can you do that?” 

“I’d hate to hurt you more, Yvain. And I am sorry. But I promise I will only tell you the truth from now on.” 

“Then, Matteo: your new life. Are you happy in it?”

“Yvain, I am deeply submissive, as I now know you are too. Neither of us would have found that out, not from each other. But now my need to submit, and give myself, is open, and it is fully met. We have a lor in common, it turns out. Like you, I only really like men.”

Yvain thought for a moment of Gizela, and her desire to squeeze her thighs around that girl’s head as she busily served her mistress. But she didn’t argue the point. It was the Seigneur who mattered to her. She stood. “I’m glad you were whipped for deceiving me, Matteo. You deserved it. But now I know how little choice presented itself to you, I forgive you. And I’m glad you’re happy, Matteo. I feel no ill will towards you. I was, after all, ready to marry you.”

Matteo nodded. “I was very fond of you too. I still am. I’m glad you’re happy, far beyond the best I could have brought you.” 

Yvain dropped her robe, and turned her back. She was amused to hear Matteo gasp, not at her beauty but at the impressive colours and lines left by Karl and the Beldam’s strap, and the Seigneur’s hand and cane.

He said, “Yvain, I see you are being .. well cared for. Like me.” 

Yvain grinned. She wanted to be flogged and fucked again. So, she was sure, did he. She said, “Address me as Mistress from now on, Matteo.”

“Yes, Mistress.” 

“Now, keep that cock up and hard, for your Master’s return.”

“Yers, Mistress.”

“And go and face the wall, feet apart, hands outstrtetched. Hands and toes touching the wall, but your bottom angled out a bit.”

Matteo nodded. He knew this position, and what it was for. He faced the wall, adjusting his posrure as instructed. When he was ready he said, “As you commanded, Mistress.” 

“Good. Stay there.” Yvain came to stand beside him, placing herself in exactly the same posture. She turned to look at Matteo, who had his nose to the cold stone. “Submissives, even slaves like me, and you, have certain powers. I do not think our masters will be able to resist this sight, when they return. Not for a second. Now we wait.”