Stephanie had been sitting in my lap for most of my party. That was complicated, in some ways. We’d been friends while I was with my last girlfriend, and we’d flirted but always safely, because I was committed. But I wasn’t committed any more, and the flirtation wasn’t safe, and we both knew it. We kissed, and the kisses weren’t the friendly kind; they had promise and exploration.

I had my hand under her shirt on her warm belly, kind of indecisively wandering sometimes closer to her cunt and sometimes towards her breasts. I hadn’t made contact or a choice yet, but she knew that I was teasing her, and I was getting smiles for that.

Our position was also complicated because I had a new girlfriend, Maires, and she was at my party too. But Maires also fancied Stephanie (she called her “Stiffener”, knowing the effect she had on me), and because Stephanie was very straight, Maires figured that her best chance was for me to fuck Stephanie first, and then for us bring Maires into bed later.

With negotiation, by Stephanie’s invitation, or it wouldn’t happen. So I had Maires’s blessing for my campaign to get Stephanie’s clothes off and her body into my bed, if I could manage it. She, Maires, could amuse herself with the other party guests in the meantime.

But Stephanie’s and my kisses were getting more intense. She’d twisted her body so she was facing me. Her nipples pressed against my shirt, and she arched her back to press tighter. We paused, eyes closed, and rocked together. I looked at her, and she opened her eyes too. “I really want to fuck you.”

She said, “Can we talk?”

“Of course. My room?”

“Hah. There are people in your room. I’m not ready to throw them out yet, just so you can have your-“

“Wicked way?”

“I hope it’s wicked.”

That was all I needed. I took her hand and helped her up. “We’re going for a walk. Now. It’s a lovely night outside. Moon. Shadows. Kid’s playground across the road.”

“All right.”

So we walked off, Stephanie leading the way, so I could admire her walk in little shorts, cut slightly above the crease of her ass and thighs. Maires was dancing with a guy who’d painted his face red and blue, but she caught my eye, and made an “ok” hand gesture.

It was warm out. I kissed Stephanie, but we’d already been doing that. There was a danger of awkward silence. So I put my hands on her ass, and we pressed together properly. I’d had an erection from about the moment she’d dropped her ass into my lap and we’d had our first kiss. But we’d ignored it. Now it pushed against her lower belly, and I held her tight against me, and it. She sighed. A good sigh. I’d declared myself in every way. Now we had privacy there was no way to not acknowledge our sexual intentions and desires.

So we talked about the things we had to talk about. I had Maires’s permission for my current disgraceful behaviour. Stephanie knew that Maires wanted her as well. And she’d never been with a girl, but she liked Maires. She also wanted to know: was I going to fall in love with her, Stephanie, if she came to bed? I said I probably wouldn’t; at least we should start with friendship and fucks.

She wanted me to wait until the party had emptied a bit before she came to bed. Even by the standards of this provincial university town in a cold climate, where students sometimes fucked simply to save on heating costs, Maires and I were pushing the envelope a little. There’d be gossip, and Stephanie wanted deniability.

I nodded. “Ok. It’s after midnight. Give it another half an hour. Then we’ll come back, I’ll put on early Yoko Ono and everyone will say, oh that’s really cool! And then they’ll leave, fast as they can. I don’t think she broke up the Beatles, but she sure can break up a party. Then we can fuck in bed and comfort. And if Maires hasn’t scored with the red and blue guy, she’ll come in later.”

“How will that be?”

“Wonderful! Oh, I see. It’ll be cuddly. It’ll be kissy. It’ll be all warm bodies rolling round. Me wishing I could have my cock in both of you at once. And what you do then is up to you. I know she’d like – Well, she’s good at cunnilingus. And she likes it a lot. I mean, giving.”

“Oh yeah. Do you know how many boys have told me that about their girlfriends?”

“God. Is that a thing, is it?”

“No. The answer is: none at all. Ever. No one has ever said that to me. I’ve never met a guy who’d think he had information to go on, to judge that.”

“Um.” Maires and I had actually met in a threesome.

Stephanie had her eyebrows up. “Or would talk about it if they could. It’s the gossip thing. You two could be forgetting how weird you are.”

“Good weird.”

“I’ll believe it for now. So what do we do for half an hour?”

“We play a game. Simon says.”

“Hmm. Dangerous. But it figures. Ok.”

“Good. I’m Simon. Lift your hands up. And keep still.”

“Hmm.” But she did as she was told.

She wore a white blouse of rough cotton. It was cold out, but it was beautiful and we were turned on. Magic was the warmth. She watched me, gravely, while I undid her buttons and took the shirt off, over her arms.

“Ok. Can I be Simon now?”

“No. There’s only one Simon. But you can tell me what you want.”

“Then, take your jeans off. We’re going to the playground. I’m going to be topless. You can keep your underpants on.”

“Um.” It’s always interesting, when you think you’re leading, and you get leapfrogged.

So I dropped my jeans, and stuffed them into the mailbox. It was cold, and it didn’t matter at all. I dropped Stephanie’s shirt in there too, trying to keep it relatively uncreased. And I got her bra off before we passed the gate, so it went in there too.

We raced across the road, looking frankly stupid, with my cock waggling about, not entirely contained in underpants. But we felt sure that no-one else was going to be watching the neighbourhood at that hour and climate.

Gizela, formerly the wife of the village Mayor, was used to rich clothes, by village standards, and used to respectful, deferential treatment, her place always at the head of the queue. Even when she came back from her times in the castle, and it was clear that Karl, the seigneur’s servant, had whipped her thoroughly and made unreserved use of her, her status was unaffected.

Now, walking naked from the Seigneur’s suite, naked, her buttocks and thighs blazing red from her Mistress’s hairbrush and her mouth still glazed with her Master’s come, she felt cheerful and, within certain well-defined limits, regal. Her marks and her sign that she had pleased her Master, who was everyone’s Master, did nothing to reduce her status. They enhanced it. 

So when she arrived at the kitchen and ordered a good breakfast for the Seigneur and his current woman, they hastened to assemble their best.

In the Seigneur’s tower, Yvain lay half on the Seigneur, her thigh over his, and half on his bed. “Four days ago I was going to be Matteo’s wife, once you’d taken my first night.”

The Seigneur smiled, and put his hand, as owner, on Yvain’s cunt. “Taken you.”

“Yes, you did. I was puzzled by Matteo’s lack of desire for me, and I thought it must be some fault in me. But you desired me. So I was wrong to think I must be unattractive.”

“If you doubt your beauty, my piglet, you should always confess it. I will punish you thoroughly.”

“I’d like that. And you know it. You wouldn’t stop till I’d come my brains out and I could hardly walk. I hope.”

“I think I can promise you that, piglet.”

“But when I was going to marry Matteo, I knew what my life was going to be. Not as exciting as my life now, but … there are security. I might have been bored, and frustrated, but I wouldn’t be afraid.”

“Do you mean you fear me?”

“Should I not, my Seigneur? Of course I do, but that’s a good fear. Like riding a wild horse.”

“You think you might tame me?”

“No, my Seigneur. I know I couldn’t, and I’d never try because there would be nothing I want less. You command me, you whip me, you fuck me: you own me. That’s the ride you give me, my wild Master, and I’d never want to get off.”

“But you’re troubled.”

“I might wake up and find that it is over. You will be intrigued by the next village bride they send you. And then, I know you will find me an honourable place. But it will be like being thrown down from heaven.”

Th Seigneur rolled over then, fully awake and a little alarmed. “You will not be cast out of heaven. Or even from my bed, squealing little piglet.” He lifted his hand from her cunt and smacked her lightly. When she moaned, he did it again, harder. “You want to know your dreadful fate?”

“My Seigneur? Please?” She was pale.

“You get the chance to say yes or no. This will be the only time you have that chance with me. If you agree, then you will remain my slave, my piglet.”

“Please!”

“Not yet!” he looked in her eyes, suddenly serious. “I would like you as my consort, own by me and ruled by me, but setting beside me and helping to rule beside me, as Mistress of this place. My heart and my brain – not to mention other parts – are in agreement about this. If you say the word, you are my consort. We are one. What say you?”

Yvain sat up. She could feel herself close to tears. She tried to control them, then decided it would be more honest to let them fall. And she wanted to be honest. “My love, my Seigneur, my master! Is the word ‘yes’ enough?”

As if through a rainy window she saw him nod, his mouth turned down but his eyes smiling. “It is a good word.”

“Yes!”

He smacked her cunt even harder, making her cry out, then brought his hand down to grip her. Comforting ownership. “Then we have things to do.” 

Yvain brought the hairbrush down on Gizela’s Gizela’s perfectly rounded, scarlet bottom. She got a satisfactory BAP! sound when the back of the brush met womanly flesh, and an appealingly pretty jerk of Gizela’s bottom and thighs when the brush landed. Her Seigneur had his cock thrust firmly into Gizela’s mouth, and his hands on her head, controlling her movements.

At that moment it seemed that Gizela had her mouth completely full: she glubbed rather than squealed. Her Seigneur looked at Yvain, smiled and nodded.

She was to resume Gizela’s punishment. Yvain spanked Gizela again, not quite as hard. She was terrified that the girl might bite their master, and of the consequences for both of them if he felt Gizela’s teeth. Gizela jerked under the blow, but she was there to serve their master and she knew it.

Her head bobbed, and she began to suck diligently but very slowly. The Seigneur sighed, pleased. “Good girls, both of you. Gizela, you know that if I feel your teeth, you will both feel the cane.”

Gizela could not answer. But it didn’t matter: she knew, and all three of them knew she knew.

Yvain continued Gizela’s spanking, the girl lying across Yvain’s lap, her head between the Seigneur’s thighs, holding his feet while she sucked his cock. Yvain had thought she was only submissive, but she loved Gizela’s weight across her lap, her obedience, and the pleasure she knew she was giving the woman with the brush. She didn’t beat Gizela as hard as she could. With her first four spanks she’d shown Gizela, and their Seigneur, that she could deliver real pain. But now she wanted things to build more slowly.

She brought down the brush over and over, making the room resound and Gizela’s bottom and thighs wriggle and bob and twist under the impacts of that hard wooden surface. Yvain knew from her own experience that she didn’t need to spank hard for this to hurt. Gizela was already sensitive, and the spanks had a cumulative effect, building up heat and sensation with every measured smack.

The Seigneur rested one hand on the back of Gizela’s head now, keeping her mouth firmly and deeply on his cock, and stroked her shoulders with the other.

“You’re doing well, little slave.” he told her. Or he might have been speaking to Yvain, whose eyes he watched while Gizela pleasured him.

Yvain smiled at him. She said, “She’s very wet, my Seigneur. I’m sure she likes your cock in your mouth, but she’ld explode if you were to fuck her.”

Gizela seemed to nod enthusiastically, though she might simply have been serving. The Seigneur made a pleasured sound, deep in his throat. It might have been a chuckle, or a tribute to Gizela’s skill and enthusiasm. “We might test that, in a while. Yvain, my piglet, beat your slave a little harder, now.” 

Gizela moaned. It didn’t seem to be a protest. The girl was pressing her cunt, hard, against Yvain’s thigh. Yvain made the spanks harder now, and slowed the tempo. Gizela parted her thighs as far as she could. Yvain knew she was trying to tempt her mistress into touching her cunt. Yvain knew that if she did, Gizela would come before her Master. That was not to happen.

Yvain watched her lover, her master, being sucked by their mutual slave. His breathing was harsher now, slow and deep, with a hint of growl. He had both hands on Gizela’s head now, and he simply held the girl down, while he thrust into her. He gasped, then growled louder, like an angry bear. His eyes lost focus as he pumped into Gizela’s mouth.

The moment had come, and so had her Seigneur. Yvain spanked Gizela’s cunt once, hard, with the back of the brush, then inserted the smooth, rounded handle. Gizela’s body arched, and Yvain saw every muscle in her back tauten, and the woman would have screamed if her mouth was not full of her master’s cock and his fluid. She gurgled, her body utterly tight, and then slowly relaxed. 

The Seigneur was looking, again, into Yvain’s eyes. He caressed Gizela’s back while her head bobbed, slower now, licking him clean and swallowing.

At last he said, “That was well done, both of you. And Yvain, yes: you have my permission to use the hairbrush on this girl whenever you feel she deserves it. If you take a mind to beat her purely for your pleasure, you have my permission for that as well.”

“Thank you, my Seigneur. I’m sure I speak for both of us.” Gizela was still licking her master and could not speak, though she seemed to nod.

The Seigneur slapped her face lightly, then. Gizela made an interrogative noise. “Go to the kitchen and fetch us food, Gizela. Do not dress or wipe your mouth. Your mistress and I have things to discuss.”