Yvain lay face-down on the Seigneur’s bed, his weight half on her back. They’d just fucked for the third time that day, and this time he’d taken her from behind. They’d started  in doggy fashion but subsided to prone as Yvain slowly sank under his battering weight. 

She could feel his cock softening inside her, slowly contracting but not yet withdrawn. His breathing was soft and slow. He would fall asleep soon. Yvain decided to tae Gizela’s advice. She said, “I love you, my Seigneur.” 

“Wha – ? Oh.” he was startled into wakefulness. He said, “I love you too, little piglet. My slave.” 

“Do you love Gizela too?”

Now he sounded wary. “Of course I do. But in a very different way from the love I have for you. She is a sweet girl.” 

Gizela, sitting naked on the bed beside them, said, “Thank you, Master. I do believe I love you both.”

The Master rolled his body off Yvain’s back and smacked her bottom, hard. “But you are my partner, little Yvain. That is a very different thing. But,” he frowned, “you are up to something. Why did you ask if I loved Gizela?” He leaned over and kissed Gizela’s left breast. Gizela looked hard into Yvain’s eyes.

“Because, my Master and my love, you’ve put me in charge of Gizela, and that includes keeping her disciplined. She has already been insolent with me in a way that I feel I cannot deal with just with my hand. I would cane her for it, if I had your permission.”

She saw him frown, and she spoke quickly. “No, my Master, I am not asking for permission to use the cane. That must be exclusively left for you, to deal with either of us, or both of us.”

“That is wise. You would not get that permission. But if you had asked for that, you would feel the cane yourself.”

“I know, my love, and I would know you were right, now matter how hard and how long you applied it. Not that my opinion has any bearing.”

Now he smiled. “Good save.”

“But, my love, I don’t want to have to send her to you every time she needs more than a hand spanking. I am seeking your consent, my Master, my Seigneur and my love, to use a hairbrush on her bottom, when she deserves more serious discipline. From me.” 

“Hmm. I suppose you think she deserves the hairbrush right now?”

“Yes, mt Seigneur. She was … insolent when she was preparing me for you. I would like to deal with that.” 

The Seigneur nodded. “And you, Gizela, I don’t have to ask you if you’d like that?” 

Gizela leaned down to kiss her Master’s penis. Then, because it was coated in the fluids of her Mistress’s cunt, she licked it. The Seigneur allowed Gizela to tongue-bathe him, watching Yvain watch them both. Then Gizela sat up again. “You know I would, Master.” 

The Seigneur was still watching Yvain. She waited for his word, wondering why she felt a little frightened. 

At last he said, “Very well. You will show me that you can use a hairbrush to good effect. If you do, then I may allow you to continue to resort to the hairbrush when you feel it’s called for. If you do not satisfy me that you can use the implement well, then I will call the Beldam in to flog you both severely.” He smiled. “For plotting behind my back, among other things.” 

“Thank you, my Seigneur.” Yvain also leaned forward and down to kiss her Seigneur’s cock, When she licked him he was still soft but she felt, as if it came from a long way away,  some sign of renewed life. When she rose, smiling, she looked at Gizela.

She astonished the woman by slapping her, though lightly, across the face. Gizela’s mouth dropped open, her eyes wide. “Gizela, little slut, fetch me the hairbrush.”

The Seigneur held himself still, though his body shook, above Yvain, held in her arms and between her thighs, his cock just touching the soft, wet lips of her cunt. He said, “There’s a thing, a hymen, a little piece of skin that protects your entrance, little one, until I take you. When I push through it it may sting for a moment, but it never lasts long.”

Yvain smiled. “Oh that. You don’t have to worry. The bishop took that long ago.”

She wanted to laugh at his disconcerted expression, solemn and important though this moment was. He said, “Oh? You said you were a virgin?”

“A chess bishop, my master. My father had a large, wooden chess set. I, ah, used the bishop a few times, till I found better toys.”

“Girl.” But he smiled. “I should just whip you continuously, shouldn’t I?”

“That may be wise.”

“Hah. Anyway, my love, hold me tight, and you can’t go wrong.”

Yvain complied, and felt his cock press just a little harder against her cunt. She stared up at him, watching his eyes. He seemed intent on what his body was doing, barely seeing her. She felt his cock move forward, enter and part her lips, until the head of his cock was inside her. She felt it as an intense sweetness, a vein of golden, sugared, pleasure. She said, “Oh! Oh, my Master. That’s so …”

But she had no words. Nor had he. She focussed on the sensations from her cunt, hard engorged cock moving easily but slowly, held in her slippery, longing cunt. Every millimetres of progress was a revelation. She’d enjoyed serving him with her mouth, and being fucked anally, but she knew now why he had left this till last.

She made a loving, pleasured moan, and he gasped in answer. Neither spoke in words, as he s=took her, with excruciating slowness.

At last their pubic bones pressed together, his covered in tight-curled hair and her bare and sensitive, and she felt herself utterly, completely filled. She was more aware of his cock, pulsing and alive inside her, than she’d ever been aware of anything in her life. She felt her eyes tearing up, and smiled up at him. He lowered his head and and kissed her. She put her hand on the back of his neck and kissed him back, opening her mouth, wanting to be explored.

At last, after a long, long moment, she felt him move, still very slowly, withdrawing, skin sliding back along sensitive skin. That skin contact and movement was so wonderful, but she hoped he wouldn’t withdraw far, or for long. At last he paused with only part of the head of his cock still in her, and he smiled, watching the tears and the need that must show on her face. He smiled, and held still. He was still in his power, and cruel with it. He could read her face, her need, and he grinned.

At last Yvain couldn’t help herself. “My Seigneur. Master. Please …”

But he held himself still, tormenting her. Then at last he pressed forward again, a little faster than the first time, until their pubic bones were tight together again, and Yvain felt little but her own cunt and its occupier. There was a bed, and a room, but these things were not important. Yvain sighed. “Ahhh…”

He stayed, letting her savour the fulness and thickness of him, the sensation of being filled. But this time he stayed for a shorter time, and then withdrew slowly but not quite so slow. When he was only just inside her he paused again, and smiled down at her. “I hope this feels better than the bishop.”

She had no answer for that except to hold him tight, her thighs raised and clasped round his waist. She rested her feet on his bottom and he made a growling noise, and began to move, still slowly but without stopping. This is the thing, Yvain thought: we are fucking.

She felt him speeding up. They moved together, her body answering and meeting his. Something seemed to be forming in her stomach and at the base of her spine. Something huge and sweet. She opened her eyes wide, and hoping to please him she said, “Master, may I – “

But then those forces inside her combined and took her over, like the huge waves she’d swum in when her father taken taken her to see the ocean. She lost the power of speech and roared, like a lioness, surprised by how guttural and ungirlish she sounded.

He said only, “Good girl.” He reached under her to hold her buttocks and let her take his full weight while he began thrusting into her, hard and fast. She was still glowing from that first climax when she felt the same forces build in her again, and she cried out a second time, this time in a high squeal, like a tortured cat.

He ignored that and continued to thrust hard and fast in her, merciless and intent, so she felt like he was plundering her. Then, suddenly his breathing stopped and his back arched, and then he pushed into her, his body pressed tight, and he released that breath in a series of bear-like grunts and growls.

She felt his seed splash inside her. That was not a sexual feeling, exactly, but it moved her. She felt herself crying like a child, her face screwed yup, her eyes streaming. He watched her cry, his face slowly changing from the pleasured mask of his orgasm to show concern. “Are you all right, little piglet? I haven’t hurt you?”

Yvain reached up and stroked his face. “I don’t know why I’m crying. But it’s nothing bad. I love you.” Then she smiled. “If a slave may be so bold.”

He said nothing, but kissed her mouth again. A moment later, surprising her because she’d forgotten the girl existed, Gizela kissed her forehead.

Yvain lay back and allowed Gizela to strip her cunt and its surrounding skin of all traces of hair, taking from her all concealment.

It was not quite a sensual experience. A razor could never be a sensual thing for her. But it was exciting, and she admired the sheer nakedness of her sexual parts as Gizela towelled away the soap she’d used to de-nude her mistress. Then, without asking permission, she kissed her mistress’s smooth and sensitive cunt.

“Come along, Mistress. I know Master – I should say, your Seigneur, wants to fuck you. So do I, but I’ll have to make do with whatever crumbs you might throw me.”

Gizela took her hand and led her, both young women naked, back into the bedroom. 

Matteo turned when he heard them. He was naked, and his cock was hard and pointing at her. Yvain stepped forward and made to sink to her knees, but he stopped her with a hand under her arm. “No, little piglet. Onto the bed. On your tummy first, I think. Gizela, you’ll stand by the bed, ready to serve us if we need you.”

Yvain and Gizela uttered their respective formulas of respectful obedience (“Yes, Master” and “Yes, my Seigneur”) and placed themselves as instructed.

Her head on a pillow, Yvain felt rather than saw her Seigneur climbing onto the bed, and his hands part her thighs, more gently than she expected. Then she felt his knees between hers, and his hands separating her buttocks. He smacked her, twice, then stroked her cunt, getting his fingers wet.

She heard him grunt with satisfaction. then his fingers stroked her, two fingers running along the outside of her lips. She sighed.

The Seigneur said, “Just this one time, little piglet, you’re free to come whenever you wish and feel the need. After this, you will only come if you bed my permission and I give it. But your first time you shouldn’t have to remember anything except what your body and your heart feel. Understood?”

“Ys, my Seigneur. It’s as it should be.”

“Good girl.” Yvain heard that praise and felt herself blushing. His praise had become one of her greatest rewards. He began to spank her lightly, stopping every twenty of so strokes to stroke her cunt some more, setting her rocking and undulating under him.

She felt him lower his body onto her then, so his chest was on her back, his thighs strong and hard between hers, and his cock, prodding at her entrance. She could feel him shaking slightly, with excitement she hoped, and with the exertion of controlling himself.

“You’d like me to be in you now, little piglet?”

“Yes, Master!” She tried to remember if she’d ever addressed him that way before. Perhaps not.

He seemed not to notice. He said, “”I want you so much, little one. But I know that this first time I really want to watch for face as I take you.” He raised his body, and smacked her left buttock hard. “So roll over, my love.”

Love? That was another first. She would never dare address him that way without permission, but she knew that if she did it would be true. She rolled over and smiled up at her Seigneur. She reached for his penis. Smiling, he let her take him in her hand, and grip firmly, then stroke lightly.

He took her hand away though, and put his knees again between hers. 

Then he leaned down to kiss her, for the time being arching his back so his cock did not touch her body. Yvain pressed her mouth to kiss, then opened so he could explore her with his tinge. At last he raised his head to look down at her. She said, “You called me love. My cruel Seigneur, I love you too.” 

His smile broadened. He reached down to pinch her left nipple tili it hurt, and the hurt showed in her face. She did not beg. She felt the hurt in her cunt, not as hurt. He lowered his head again, to sieze and bite her right nipple. Yvain sighed. This, she suspected,   could never be punishment no matter how hard he went. 

He lowered his body, and she opened her thighs, raising her knees, as wanton and wanting as she could make herself. 

Sorry. A short episode today. Yvain and her dark lord will consummate next week. Bear with me.

Yvain lay in her stomach, her body pink and warm from the bath, while Gizela lightly towelled and talced her. She sighed. “Gizela, you like being a slave, don’t you?”

“Of course, mistress. It suits me very well. It lets me do, and feel, what my heart and my cunt want. Do you, mistress?”

“Oh!” Yvain was surprised. “Yes, I suppose I am his slavegirl, too.”

“I don’t think the Seigneur would apply the word to you, but you know you’re his slave, among the other things you are to him.”

“Yes, I know. It’s odd that you get the title, and I don’t.”

“I’m sorry, mistress.” Gizela sprinkled talcum powder on Yvain’s lower buttocks, and began to spread it, slowly, sensuously. 

Yvain sighed; Gizela knew exactly what felt good. “No, Gizela, that wasn’t a complaint. I just don’t understand how these things work: titles. I suppose you are my slave as well, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am, mistress! Though we’ve never actually said it, have we? Your Seigneur, my Master, takes precedence, but I’m also your property. You can do what you will with me. Tell me to do anything, and I will.” The talcum powder fell like snow on her inner thighs, and Gizela began to massage her more intimately.

“Do you like being my slave, Gizela?”

“Ah. You’re a very sweet and good woman, so I enjoy being with you. And you make my cunt sing. Especially when you spank me and make me lick you.”

Yvain suddenly felt a sharp pain, near her no-long virginal anus. She yelped. Gizela had pulled a hair out.

“Sorry, mistress, but that hair; it was in a wrong place. I’m sure Master would prefer that it was gone.”

“You didn’t ask my permission, Gizela. Or give me warning.” The unexpected pain had shocked and angered her, a little. “I will punish you. And Gizela, I’ll use my hand, but you deserve the cane for that.”

“Of course I do, mistress. I would love you to cane me. But the master will never let you. He’d see it as making you step too far outside your submissive nature.” Gizela bent down and kiss the back of Yvain’s left thigh, then touched the skin with her tongue. “If I might make a suggestion… ?”

“Yes?”

“When he’s fucked you, and fucked you again, tonight, and he’s lying soft and tired, ask him for permission to use the hairbrush or the slipper to punish me when I deserve it.”

“Those are implements for the nursery. Not serious punishment, Gizela.”

“Mistress, you will learn one day why we slaves fear the hairbrush. It doesn’t seem like much, when you have one in your hand, but when it lands on your bottom, darling mistress, you will squeal. And if the Seigneur is angry with you, you will blister.”

“Oh.” Yvain’s eyes were wide.

“And Mistress, to be honest with you, there are times when I’m about to be punished but I’m feeling delicate, when I’d rather get the cane than the slipper. The slipper hurts. If you want access to something that will genuinely make me sad and sorry, and desperate to avoid a second dose, those are the implements to use.”

“Oh. I suppose I have them in my future, soon enough. So I’ll learn if what you say is true.”

“It’s true, my darling mistress. Believe me.” Gizela had finished with her inner thighs, having carefully avoided touching her cunt. “Could you … turn over, please, my mistress? Master will want your cunt bare before he takes you.”

Yvain turned onto her side, to face her slave. “You’re going to trim me?”

“No, mistress. I’m to shave you. So there’s nothing between his cock and you.”

Yvan felt those words. The thought was like a sexual punch, a hard knot of lust at the lowest part of her belly. She rolled further, so she was on her back.  

Gizela disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. She returned with a soapy dish and a fearsome-looking razor. Gizela saw the mild fear in Yvain’s eyes, and said, “It’s all right, my mistress. I’ve done this many times before. I can guarantee I won’t hurt you.”

Yvain smiled at that, and spread her thighs so Gizela could do her work. “If you slip, girl, I will ask the Master to cane you severely. And then for his permission to slipper you on top of your stripes. So have a care.”

“I’m not feeling delicate at the moment, so that sounds quite enticing.” Yvain closed her thighs. “But, mistress, I wouldn’t hurt you, let alone cut you, for ll the world.”

Yvain, feeling she was being brave, opened her thighs again. “Then do your worst.”

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.” 

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.”