THE FRENCHMAN'S TALE
Up until one month ago, I was a typical husband. If anyone had asked me, I would have assured them I knew everything about my wife of 30 years, Anna-Marie. I truly thought I knew everything about her, and nothing she could ever do or say would surprise me. I was wrong, and I freely admit it.
I guess I based my former opinion on the fact that Anna-Marie and I had known each other from the time we were both very young children. Our families lived in houses that were next to each other, and it was nothing but expected that we would play together, and have lots of fights with each other, truth be told. When it came time for the two of us to play the old childrens' game of "Doctor," we took off our clothes in a treehouse our fathers had built for us, and proceeded to unravel all the mysteries that had been hidden from each others eyes.
When it came time for us to start dating and going to school dances, everyone knew Anna-Marie and I would be partners. When we made our first halting attempts to have sexual intercourse, she was my choice of partners, as I was hers. And in the fullness of time, when we reached the age when marriage figured prominently in our dreams, everyone understood that there was no one for me but Anna-Marie, and no one for her but me.
So, that's why I say that I was sure I knew everything about her. But, as time would tell, I knew very little of the important parts of her life. That changed, as I said, one month ago, and if you will permit me, I will tell you what happened that mementous night, and how soon I learned just how limited was my knowledge of my dear wife.
Both Anna-Marie and I own businesses that have always been moderately successful. My company deals with export-import matters, which seemed a natural choice since my great-grandfather set up the business many years ago, and in the fullness of time it passed to my grandfather, then to my father, and then a few years ago, to me.
My wife owns a retail shop, where she sells dinnerware along with other items that are needed in almost any kitchen. She earns enough from her shop that she doesn't need to depend on me to buy things for her, and she seems to love the independence that gives her, and I've never tried to deny her that part of her life.
Now for the more-important background you'll need to have in order to understand how it came about that I discovered an entirely-unknown part of Anna-Marie's thoughts and dreams.
Like many French men, I have a mistress who gives me experiences and sensations I could never find in my marriage. In my case, though, the word is properly spelled as "Mistress," because Mistress Estelle is a Dominatrix, and I am submissive to her. She gives me the punishment I crave, and always treats me as nothing but a slave to be used in any manner she chooses.
Mistress Estelle has always specialized in the whip, and she's very accomplished in using all forms of that dread instrument. It doesn't matter if it's a flogger or a blacksnake, she knows exactly how to apply her chosen whip in order to inflict the most pain on her victims. And I love what she does to me, because it answers a very-deep need I've always had, a need to be dominated in all the ways my wife never could or would.
It was during one of our regular sessions that Mistress Estelle had suspended my naked body by its wrists so she could whip it until her arms grew weary. During a pause, when she was bent over and gasping for breath after almost exhausting herself, she asked casually, "Do you have a picture of your wife, slave?"
I was deep in my fantasy of being punished right then, and it took me several seconds to recover my senses enough to answer with a simple, "Yes, Mistress."
She asked where the picture was, and when I told her it was in my wallet, she walked to the nearby wall where I had hung my clothes after she'd ordered me to strip. She took my wallet from a pocket in my jacket, then quickly looked through it until she found the photo of Anna-Marie.
After extracting the picture she held it in front of my face, and when I nodded that she'd found the correct one, she added, "She's very beautiful. More beautiful than you deserve, you worthless slave." She stared at the picture for a long time before adding, "I think it's time for me to meet her."
When I was unable to come up with any reply to her statement, she said, "I will come to your home for dinner next Saturday evening. Tell you wife to be expecting me at 7:00. Is that time acceptable?"
Since that was the normal time for us to eat dinner, all my empty head could think of was to agree by nodding. Satisfied with the arrangements she'd made, Mistress resumed whipping me, and then when she had been sufficiently aroused, she lowered me to my back, sat on my face, and ordered me to bring her to orgasm. Since I had been doing that very thing for a long time by then, I needed no further instructions, and immediately set about pleasuring her with my lips and tongue, and in the fullness of time she rewarded me with her orgasm, one that seemed to be the strongest I'd ever given her.
Perhaps my foolish pride in giving pleasure to my Mistress was the cause of it, but when she took my raging erection in one hand and stroked it until my semen filled her other hand, I'm sure my balls produced more of the stuff than ever before. Then, when she ordered me to lick my seed from her hand, I didn't feel the usual sensation of disgust that act had always given me.
Maybe it was the anticipation of having Mistress Estelle in my own home, and in the presence of my wife, that made my excitement so much greater, but I do not know if that was the explanation. I do know that every mile of the way from Mistress' chamber to my own home was filled with trying to think of what to say to Anna-Marie that would make her accept an unexpected dinner guest.
I at last decided to describe my Mistress as a customer of my business, who wanted me to handle the export of certain products to the U.S.A. That same situation had occurred a few times in the past, and I was hoping my wife would think Mistress Estelle's visit was just one more of them.
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Anna-Marie treated my news about our dinner guest as something ordinary, and after discussing the menu with me for several minutes, she said she'd take care of everything. So, the upcoming meeting of my wife and my Mistress was set, and I spent the next days trying to unravel the puzzle of why Mistress wanted to meet Anna-Marie.
Promptly at 7:00 Saturday evening, we heard somebody using our door knocker, and both of us walked to the front door to welcome our dinner guest. I had been practicing what I would say all week, but when I opened the door and saw my beautiful Mistress standing there, my tongue froze in my mouth, and all I could do was stutter in confusion.
Luckily, my dear wife was ready to play the perfect hostess, and as she offered her hand to our guest, she said, "Welcome to our home. I am Anna-Marie. Jean-Phillipe told me you would be dining with us tonight, and that I was to make a good impression on you because he thinks you will be a good customer for his business."
Mistress Estelle merely smiled, and demonstrated her exquisite poise by immediately understanding what I'd told Anna-Marie as an excuse for the dinner date. Speaking her own name, she took my wife's hand in hers, but instead of shaking it in the usual manner, she bent over and sensuously kissed it. I was watching Anna-Marie's face as that happened, and I saw the way her eyes widened in pleasure as her hand was kissed. Then, to my surprise, she brought Mistress Estelle's hand to her own lips and returned the kiss she had been given just seconds before.
Leaving me standing there to take care of the door, Anna-Marie, still holding the hand she'd so-recently kissed, led our guest down the hallway and into the dining room. Telling Mistress Estelle that our cook had already warned her that the first course would need to be served shortly after 7:00, Anna-Marie helped Mistress take her seat at the table, then opened the door to the adjoining kitchen. I heard her tell the cook we were ready to be served, and then she held the door open as a serving cart was pushed through it.
I rushed to seat my wife at one end of the table, then took my own chair at the other end. Still unable to think of anything to say, I was very glad when the first course was immediately served, and the three of us began to eat, with everyone complimenting the cook on the delicious soup and salad.
The remainder of the meal proceeded to be served and eaten, accompanied by more compliments, until at last the main course had been consumed, and our plates sat empty. It was then that Mistress seemed to be concentrating on her plate, and just as I was thinking she wanted more of the meat dish, she looked at Anna-Marie and asked the question that proved to usher in the most-exciting evening I'd ever had.
"Did the dinnerware come from your store, Anna-Marie?" I had told her long ago about my wife's own business interests, and it seemed that she had remembered my doing so.
Anna-Marie replied, "Yes. I've always loved that picture of a castle on the plates and platters. I have no idea where it is located, or even if it is a real castle, but that's not important. I just like to look at it, for some strange reason."
Mistress gazed deeply into my wife's eyes for several moments, then in a velvety-soft voice, said, "I can tell you that it is, indeed, a real castle, and a rather famous one in some parts of our society. You see, it is, or more-accurately was, the home of the Marquis de Sade. Have you heard of him, Anna-Marie?"
Her answer was a tiny, "Oh!" and to my surprise I saw her eyes glaze over for a fraction of a second as if she were deep in thought. Quickly recovering, she replied, "Well, yes, I am somewhat familiar with the Marquis and his work, but I certainly didn't know we had something in our home that came from his life."
Mistress then went on to explain her own interest in de Sade, saying, "My parents took me on a tour of the castle when I was a little girl, and I can tell you with no doubt that it was a formative part of my childhood. The woman who was our guide took Mama, Papa, and me down to the dungeons where the Marquis was said to have done all the things that were so eloquently described in his books. I can only say that looking at the rack, the studded chairs, the whipping posts, and all the other equipment he used on his victims, while the woman described how they were used on the men and women held captive there was beyond entrancing, beyond exciting, beyond fascinating."
My wife's startled gasp of, "Women!?" momentarily interrupted Mistress Estelle's recollection of the tour, before, with a slight smile, she continued her tale.
"Yes, I've never forgot the woman telling us that the Marquis preferred having women as his victims, although he did on occasion torture men, too. She showed me a chair he'd personally designed to be used on a woman, and the image of the monstrous, studded phallus that protruded from the seat was forever burned into my mind's eye. All I have to do is close my eyes even now, and I can see the thing standing proud above the seat, waiting for the next woman who would seat herself upon it. Even at that young age, I found myself getting quite wet at the thought of the victim's struggles as the thing explored her exquisitely-soft inner recesses."
I had been staring fixedly at her all the time she was describing the visit to de Sade's castle, but when she stopped speaking, I glanced at Anna-Marie, and my lungs simply refused to draw another breath as my brain struggled to understand what my eyes were seeing.
Anna-Marie's eyes were wide open and glazed over, almost as is she were in shock. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she gasped for air, and that movement did nothing but emphasize the condition of her nipples. I have always loved to pleasure those parts of her beautiful body, but never before had I seen them so turgid, so erect, so large. Given that she never wears a brassiere, I had seen them aroused many times, but I knew deep in my heart that they had to be at least twice the size they'd ever been in the past. There was no question she had been excited by Mistress Estelle's descriptions, and her excitement increased my own as I gazed at the two points struggling to tear their way through the confining fabric of her dress.
Mistress had obviously seen the effect her words had on my wife, for she whispered in her softest voice, "Does the thought of the chair arouse you, Anna-Marie? Does it make you moist to think of the studded invader waiting for you to lower yourself onto it?"
Speaking through a throat so tight it would barely allow her to do so, Anna-Marie whispered huskily, "I . . . I . . . No! It horrifies me that anyone could do that to a woman, . . . and then write stories about it."
Her words were given the lie by the nipples standing proud beneath her dress, and her heaving chest that tried to draw in the air she so desperately needed. For her part, Mistress very gently whispered, "My sweet love, there's nothing at all wrong by being excited by the mere thought of feeling pain in those parts that make you a woman. It simply means that you are normal, for I have learned during my years that many, many of our gender need to be used in that manner. They need to feel the studded phallus invade their bodies, they need to feel the rack stretching them, they need to feel the whip. And I can assure you there are just as many women who need to use others of their gender in that manner. It's just the way we were created, and it's not a question of good or bad, but of need and response."
Anna-Marie's eyes cleared a small amount as Mistress spoke, and when her question came her voice was still hoarse, but easier to understand.
"So, . . . you are, . . . which type are you, Estelle?"
Mistress replied, "I am the type that needs to give pain to others, my love. In my case, I came by that need quite honestly, since I am a direct descendant of the Marquis de Sade. His need to torture others was passed down to me by my ancestors, and ever since that day I toured his castle, I've never denied my desires to give pain to others."
My wife's head turned slowly to me, and as she spoke, her words filled my heart with fear, because I was sure that when her question was answered she would no longer love me, and would demand a divorce.
"So, . . . Jean-Phillippe . . . is he one of the people who . . . who you use to satisfy your needs?"
The response was short and simple, and I knew my fate was sealed when she replied, "Yes. I have been his Mistress for two years, and I give him the punishment we both need every time he visits the chamber beneath my home."
She then added, "And you, my love, I want to do the same for you. When Jean-Phillippe comes to my home next week, I want you to accompany him. Will you do that?"
Slowly, so very slowly, Anna-Marie's head turned back in silence to look at Mistress Estelle. At last she took a deep breath, then sighed as she said, "I'd like that, Mistress."
Mistress gave my wife the most-tender, yet most-avid smile I had ever seen on her lovely face, then said in a soft voice, "Then I shall expect to see both you and Jean-Phillippe in my chamber Monday evening. Do not disappoint me, my love. If I have to seek you out and drag you there by the hair on your pussy, then I will do so."
Then, in the total silence that engulfed the room, she added, "And now, Jean-Phillippe, you will guide us to your bedroom, where Anna-Marie will learn proper behavior when in the presence of her Mistress."
It took me what seemed an eternity to understand what I'd been ordered to do, but then I almost leaped from my chair and held open the door into the hallway. As soon as my Mistress and my wife walked through it, I closed it behind me, then hurried to precede them as we made our way to the bedroom in the rear of our home.
As soon as the three of us were inside the room, Mistress hugged Anna-Marie in her strong grasp, then when my wife raised her lips to be kissed, the two shared the most-passionate kiss I'd ever seen. It went on and on for what seemed a lifetime, until at last Mistress pulled away. Her hands went to the buttons of my wife's dress, and quickly worked from top to bottom, loosening each one as they passed.
A single glance was all it took for me to step behind my wife and pull the loosely-hanging garment over her shoulders, revealing her even-more-engorged nipples to our avid eyes. Never taking her eyes from those entrancing parts, Mistress Estelle said to me, "Get her naked for me, Jean-Phillipe. Let me see what I will have to work with come Monday."
I dropped to my knees beside my wife, then quickly helped her step out of the dress where it lay on the floor. I then pulled her slippers and socks from her feet, leaving her modesty protected only by her sheer panties. As soon as my hands were pulling down all that remained of her clothing, I could see the moisture on them, as well as on her inner thighs. That told me everything I needed to know about her response to Mistress Estelle's presence in our home.
I was then allowed to watch as my wife undressed our Mistress, kissing and licking each garment as it was removed. Then, as the final piece touched the floor, Mistress commanded me to, "Pull back the bedcovers, Jean-Phillippe. It's time for your wife to learn how she will serve me in future."
Again I hurried to do her bidding, then watched in stunned fascination as Anna-Marie's unresisting body was placed in the center of our bed. She was ordered to extend her hands and feet toward the posts at the four corners of the bed, then to hold them there while the small cords Mistress took from her handbag were used to secure them in place. With my wife's legs spread to their maximum extent, both Mistress and I gazed at the enchanting view of her swollen clitoris and dripping slit, both of which drove me absolutely crazy.
Mistress then ordered me to undress, which I would have done in record time except that she confused me by climbing on top of my wife's body, facing up. Her command of, "Now fuck me, slave! Do it quickly!" told me what was planned, for I had seen her do that very thing to other married couples who visited her chamber.
I hurriedly climbed on top of my Mistress, something I had been allowed to do only rarely, and not at all in the past twelve months. Her own pussy was seemingly as wet as Anna-Marie's, and when my erect organ touched it, it entered effortlessly. Less than six thrusts later, my balls emptied as deeply inside her as I'd ever been, and then she savagely thrust me from her.
I knelt on the bed in breathless anticipation, knowing what was about to happen, and was not disappointed when Mistress got to her own knees beside my wife, then lifted one leg over her head. In an instant she was seated on Anna-Marie's mouth, but facing backwards instead of the usual way. I heard her soft command of, "Eat it, my love. Lick and suck your husband's seed from my pussy. I warn you that if you miss even a single drop, I will punish you to the limit of my ability. Do it!"
Over the years I have known Anne-Marie, I have heard her sighs and moans of passion many times. Never, though, have I heard anything like the fervent sighs and heartfelt moans that she made as she laved Mistress Estelle's pussy with her fevered tongue. In the quietness of the room I could hear her throat working as she swallowed my semen, a sound I had longed to hear many times, but rarely had.
As my wife licked and sucked, Mistress teased the turgid clitoris standing so proud above her new slave's crotch. At last, Anna-Marie could hold back no longer, and with a final moan of ecstasy, she thrust her hips high above the bed and found her release.
Mistress then got off my wife's mouth, gave her another passionate kiss, and began dressing. As she left the room she said to us, "Do not forget your appointment next week. I plan to have several other men there at that time, so that my newest slave can know the pleasures of being fucked repeatedly by exquisitely-large cocks. The two of you may engage in sex through Friday night, but after that you are to remain chaste. I want you both to be aroused to a high degree when you arrive at my chamber Monday night, so that Anna-Marie will be in the correct mood when she is bred time and time again by the other men."
With that she left us, and as soon as we heard the front door click shut, we kissed and fucked, and then gave each other oral sex the rest of the night. I know that my wife was just as aroused as I, because she had never in the past experienced three orgasms during the same night. As for me, I did it twice more, until my organ and my balls were so pain-filled they would no longer cooperate.
And now we are waiting for Monday night to arrive. Our final sexual session was last night, which means we must somehow get through three nights of abstinence before all our lusts can be satisfied in Mistress Estelle's chamber.
Wish us luck!
THE END
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Questions or comments? Please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com.
Up until one month ago, I was a typical husband. If anyone had asked me, I would have assured them I knew everything about my wife of 30 years, Anna-Marie. I truly thought I knew everything about her, and nothing she could ever do or say would surprise me. I was wrong, and I freely admit it.
I guess I based my former opinion on the fact that Anna-Marie and I had known each other from the time we were both very young children. Our families lived in houses that were next to each other, and it was nothing but expected that we would play together, and have lots of fights with each other, truth be told. When it came time for the two of us to play the old childrens' game of "Doctor," we took off our clothes in a treehouse our fathers had built for us, and proceeded to unravel all the mysteries that had been hidden from each others eyes.
When it came time for us to start dating and going to school dances, everyone knew Anna-Marie and I would be partners. When we made our first halting attempts to have sexual intercourse, she was my choice of partners, as I was hers. And in the fullness of time, when we reached the age when marriage figured prominently in our dreams, everyone understood that there was no one for me but Anna-Marie, and no one for her but me.
So, that's why I say that I was sure I knew everything about her. But, as time would tell, I knew very little of the important parts of her life. That changed, as I said, one month ago, and if you will permit me, I will tell you what happened that mementous night, and how soon I learned just how limited was my knowledge of my dear wife.
Both Anna-Marie and I own businesses that have always been moderately successful. My company deals with export-import matters, which seemed a natural choice since my great-grandfather set up the business many years ago, and in the fullness of time it passed to my grandfather, then to my father, and then a few years ago, to me.
My wife owns a retail shop, where she sells dinnerware along with other items that are needed in almost any kitchen. She earns enough from her shop that she doesn't need to depend on me to buy things for her, and she seems to love the independence that gives her, and I've never tried to deny her that part of her life.
Now for the more-important background you'll need to have in order to understand how it came about that I discovered an entirely-unknown part of Anna-Marie's thoughts and dreams.
Like many French men, I have a mistress who gives me experiences and sensations I could never find in my marriage. In my case, though, the word is properly spelled as "Mistress," because Mistress Estelle is a Dominatrix, and I am submissive to her. She gives me the punishment I crave, and always treats me as nothing but a slave to be used in any manner she chooses.
Mistress Estelle has always specialized in the whip, and she's very accomplished in using all forms of that dread instrument. It doesn't matter if it's a flogger or a blacksnake, she knows exactly how to apply her chosen whip in order to inflict the most pain on her victims. And I love what she does to me, because it answers a very-deep need I've always had, a need to be dominated in all the ways my wife never could or would.
It was during one of our regular sessions that Mistress Estelle had suspended my naked body by its wrists so she could whip it until her arms grew weary. During a pause, when she was bent over and gasping for breath after almost exhausting herself, she asked casually, "Do you have a picture of your wife, slave?"
I was deep in my fantasy of being punished right then, and it took me several seconds to recover my senses enough to answer with a simple, "Yes, Mistress."
She asked where the picture was, and when I told her it was in my wallet, she walked to the nearby wall where I had hung my clothes after she'd ordered me to strip. She took my wallet from a pocket in my jacket, then quickly looked through it until she found the photo of Anna-Marie.
After extracting the picture she held it in front of my face, and when I nodded that she'd found the correct one, she added, "She's very beautiful. More beautiful than you deserve, you worthless slave." She stared at the picture for a long time before adding, "I think it's time for me to meet her."
When I was unable to come up with any reply to her statement, she said, "I will come to your home for dinner next Saturday evening. Tell you wife to be expecting me at 7:00. Is that time acceptable?"
Since that was the normal time for us to eat dinner, all my empty head could think of was to agree by nodding. Satisfied with the arrangements she'd made, Mistress resumed whipping me, and then when she had been sufficiently aroused, she lowered me to my back, sat on my face, and ordered me to bring her to orgasm. Since I had been doing that very thing for a long time by then, I needed no further instructions, and immediately set about pleasuring her with my lips and tongue, and in the fullness of time she rewarded me with her orgasm, one that seemed to be the strongest I'd ever given her.
Perhaps my foolish pride in giving pleasure to my Mistress was the cause of it, but when she took my raging erection in one hand and stroked it until my semen filled her other hand, I'm sure my balls produced more of the stuff than ever before. Then, when she ordered me to lick my seed from her hand, I didn't feel the usual sensation of disgust that act had always given me.
Maybe it was the anticipation of having Mistress Estelle in my own home, and in the presence of my wife, that made my excitement so much greater, but I do not know if that was the explanation. I do know that every mile of the way from Mistress' chamber to my own home was filled with trying to think of what to say to Anna-Marie that would make her accept an unexpected dinner guest.
I at last decided to describe my Mistress as a customer of my business, who wanted me to handle the export of certain products to the U.S.A. That same situation had occurred a few times in the past, and I was hoping my wife would think Mistress Estelle's visit was just one more of them.
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Anna-Marie treated my news about our dinner guest as something ordinary, and after discussing the menu with me for several minutes, she said she'd take care of everything. So, the upcoming meeting of my wife and my Mistress was set, and I spent the next days trying to unravel the puzzle of why Mistress wanted to meet Anna-Marie.
Promptly at 7:00 Saturday evening, we heard somebody using our door knocker, and both of us walked to the front door to welcome our dinner guest. I had been practicing what I would say all week, but when I opened the door and saw my beautiful Mistress standing there, my tongue froze in my mouth, and all I could do was stutter in confusion.
Luckily, my dear wife was ready to play the perfect hostess, and as she offered her hand to our guest, she said, "Welcome to our home. I am Anna-Marie. Jean-Phillipe told me you would be dining with us tonight, and that I was to make a good impression on you because he thinks you will be a good customer for his business."
Mistress Estelle merely smiled, and demonstrated her exquisite poise by immediately understanding what I'd told Anna-Marie as an excuse for the dinner date. Speaking her own name, she took my wife's hand in hers, but instead of shaking it in the usual manner, she bent over and sensuously kissed it. I was watching Anna-Marie's face as that happened, and I saw the way her eyes widened in pleasure as her hand was kissed. Then, to my surprise, she brought Mistress Estelle's hand to her own lips and returned the kiss she had been given just seconds before.
Leaving me standing there to take care of the door, Anna-Marie, still holding the hand she'd so-recently kissed, led our guest down the hallway and into the dining room. Telling Mistress Estelle that our cook had already warned her that the first course would need to be served shortly after 7:00, Anna-Marie helped Mistress take her seat at the table, then opened the door to the adjoining kitchen. I heard her tell the cook we were ready to be served, and then she held the door open as a serving cart was pushed through it.
I rushed to seat my wife at one end of the table, then took my own chair at the other end. Still unable to think of anything to say, I was very glad when the first course was immediately served, and the three of us began to eat, with everyone complimenting the cook on the delicious soup and salad.
The remainder of the meal proceeded to be served and eaten, accompanied by more compliments, until at last the main course had been consumed, and our plates sat empty. It was then that Mistress seemed to be concentrating on her plate, and just as I was thinking she wanted more of the meat dish, she looked at Anna-Marie and asked the question that proved to usher in the most-exciting evening I'd ever had.
"Did the dinnerware come from your store, Anna-Marie?" I had told her long ago about my wife's own business interests, and it seemed that she had remembered my doing so.
Anna-Marie replied, "Yes. I've always loved that picture of a castle on the plates and platters. I have no idea where it is located, or even if it is a real castle, but that's not important. I just like to look at it, for some strange reason."
Mistress gazed deeply into my wife's eyes for several moments, then in a velvety-soft voice, said, "I can tell you that it is, indeed, a real castle, and a rather famous one in some parts of our society. You see, it is, or more-accurately was, the home of the Marquis de Sade. Have you heard of him, Anna-Marie?"
Her answer was a tiny, "Oh!" and to my surprise I saw her eyes glaze over for a fraction of a second as if she were deep in thought. Quickly recovering, she replied, "Well, yes, I am somewhat familiar with the Marquis and his work, but I certainly didn't know we had something in our home that came from his life."
Mistress then went on to explain her own interest in de Sade, saying, "My parents took me on a tour of the castle when I was a little girl, and I can tell you with no doubt that it was a formative part of my childhood. The woman who was our guide took Mama, Papa, and me down to the dungeons where the Marquis was said to have done all the things that were so eloquently described in his books. I can only say that looking at the rack, the studded chairs, the whipping posts, and all the other equipment he used on his victims, while the woman described how they were used on the men and women held captive there was beyond entrancing, beyond exciting, beyond fascinating."
My wife's startled gasp of, "Women!?" momentarily interrupted Mistress Estelle's recollection of the tour, before, with a slight smile, she continued her tale.
"Yes, I've never forgot the woman telling us that the Marquis preferred having women as his victims, although he did on occasion torture men, too. She showed me a chair he'd personally designed to be used on a woman, and the image of the monstrous, studded phallus that protruded from the seat was forever burned into my mind's eye. All I have to do is close my eyes even now, and I can see the thing standing proud above the seat, waiting for the next woman who would seat herself upon it. Even at that young age, I found myself getting quite wet at the thought of the victim's struggles as the thing explored her exquisitely-soft inner recesses."
I had been staring fixedly at her all the time she was describing the visit to de Sade's castle, but when she stopped speaking, I glanced at Anna-Marie, and my lungs simply refused to draw another breath as my brain struggled to understand what my eyes were seeing.
Anna-Marie's eyes were wide open and glazed over, almost as is she were in shock. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she gasped for air, and that movement did nothing but emphasize the condition of her nipples. I have always loved to pleasure those parts of her beautiful body, but never before had I seen them so turgid, so erect, so large. Given that she never wears a brassiere, I had seen them aroused many times, but I knew deep in my heart that they had to be at least twice the size they'd ever been in the past. There was no question she had been excited by Mistress Estelle's descriptions, and her excitement increased my own as I gazed at the two points struggling to tear their way through the confining fabric of her dress.
Mistress had obviously seen the effect her words had on my wife, for she whispered in her softest voice, "Does the thought of the chair arouse you, Anna-Marie? Does it make you moist to think of the studded invader waiting for you to lower yourself onto it?"
Speaking through a throat so tight it would barely allow her to do so, Anna-Marie whispered huskily, "I . . . I . . . No! It horrifies me that anyone could do that to a woman, . . . and then write stories about it."
Her words were given the lie by the nipples standing proud beneath her dress, and her heaving chest that tried to draw in the air she so desperately needed. For her part, Mistress very gently whispered, "My sweet love, there's nothing at all wrong by being excited by the mere thought of feeling pain in those parts that make you a woman. It simply means that you are normal, for I have learned during my years that many, many of our gender need to be used in that manner. They need to feel the studded phallus invade their bodies, they need to feel the rack stretching them, they need to feel the whip. And I can assure you there are just as many women who need to use others of their gender in that manner. It's just the way we were created, and it's not a question of good or bad, but of need and response."
Anna-Marie's eyes cleared a small amount as Mistress spoke, and when her question came her voice was still hoarse, but easier to understand.
"So, . . . you are, . . . which type are you, Estelle?"
Mistress replied, "I am the type that needs to give pain to others, my love. In my case, I came by that need quite honestly, since I am a direct descendant of the Marquis de Sade. His need to torture others was passed down to me by my ancestors, and ever since that day I toured his castle, I've never denied my desires to give pain to others."
My wife's head turned slowly to me, and as she spoke, her words filled my heart with fear, because I was sure that when her question was answered she would no longer love me, and would demand a divorce.
"So, . . . Jean-Phillippe . . . is he one of the people who . . . who you use to satisfy your needs?"
The response was short and simple, and I knew my fate was sealed when she replied, "Yes. I have been his Mistress for two years, and I give him the punishment we both need every time he visits the chamber beneath my home."
She then added, "And you, my love, I want to do the same for you. When Jean-Phillippe comes to my home next week, I want you to accompany him. Will you do that?"
Slowly, so very slowly, Anna-Marie's head turned back in silence to look at Mistress Estelle. At last she took a deep breath, then sighed as she said, "I'd like that, Mistress."
Mistress gave my wife the most-tender, yet most-avid smile I had ever seen on her lovely face, then said in a soft voice, "Then I shall expect to see both you and Jean-Phillippe in my chamber Monday evening. Do not disappoint me, my love. If I have to seek you out and drag you there by the hair on your pussy, then I will do so."
Then, in the total silence that engulfed the room, she added, "And now, Jean-Phillippe, you will guide us to your bedroom, where Anna-Marie will learn proper behavior when in the presence of her Mistress."
It took me what seemed an eternity to understand what I'd been ordered to do, but then I almost leaped from my chair and held open the door into the hallway. As soon as my Mistress and my wife walked through it, I closed it behind me, then hurried to precede them as we made our way to the bedroom in the rear of our home.
As soon as the three of us were inside the room, Mistress hugged Anna-Marie in her strong grasp, then when my wife raised her lips to be kissed, the two shared the most-passionate kiss I'd ever seen. It went on and on for what seemed a lifetime, until at last Mistress pulled away. Her hands went to the buttons of my wife's dress, and quickly worked from top to bottom, loosening each one as they passed.
A single glance was all it took for me to step behind my wife and pull the loosely-hanging garment over her shoulders, revealing her even-more-engorged nipples to our avid eyes. Never taking her eyes from those entrancing parts, Mistress Estelle said to me, "Get her naked for me, Jean-Phillipe. Let me see what I will have to work with come Monday."
I dropped to my knees beside my wife, then quickly helped her step out of the dress where it lay on the floor. I then pulled her slippers and socks from her feet, leaving her modesty protected only by her sheer panties. As soon as my hands were pulling down all that remained of her clothing, I could see the moisture on them, as well as on her inner thighs. That told me everything I needed to know about her response to Mistress Estelle's presence in our home.
I was then allowed to watch as my wife undressed our Mistress, kissing and licking each garment as it was removed. Then, as the final piece touched the floor, Mistress commanded me to, "Pull back the bedcovers, Jean-Phillippe. It's time for your wife to learn how she will serve me in future."
Again I hurried to do her bidding, then watched in stunned fascination as Anna-Marie's unresisting body was placed in the center of our bed. She was ordered to extend her hands and feet toward the posts at the four corners of the bed, then to hold them there while the small cords Mistress took from her handbag were used to secure them in place. With my wife's legs spread to their maximum extent, both Mistress and I gazed at the enchanting view of her swollen clitoris and dripping slit, both of which drove me absolutely crazy.
Mistress then ordered me to undress, which I would have done in record time except that she confused me by climbing on top of my wife's body, facing up. Her command of, "Now fuck me, slave! Do it quickly!" told me what was planned, for I had seen her do that very thing to other married couples who visited her chamber.
I hurriedly climbed on top of my Mistress, something I had been allowed to do only rarely, and not at all in the past twelve months. Her own pussy was seemingly as wet as Anna-Marie's, and when my erect organ touched it, it entered effortlessly. Less than six thrusts later, my balls emptied as deeply inside her as I'd ever been, and then she savagely thrust me from her.
I knelt on the bed in breathless anticipation, knowing what was about to happen, and was not disappointed when Mistress got to her own knees beside my wife, then lifted one leg over her head. In an instant she was seated on Anna-Marie's mouth, but facing backwards instead of the usual way. I heard her soft command of, "Eat it, my love. Lick and suck your husband's seed from my pussy. I warn you that if you miss even a single drop, I will punish you to the limit of my ability. Do it!"
Over the years I have known Anne-Marie, I have heard her sighs and moans of passion many times. Never, though, have I heard anything like the fervent sighs and heartfelt moans that she made as she laved Mistress Estelle's pussy with her fevered tongue. In the quietness of the room I could hear her throat working as she swallowed my semen, a sound I had longed to hear many times, but rarely had.
As my wife licked and sucked, Mistress teased the turgid clitoris standing so proud above her new slave's crotch. At last, Anna-Marie could hold back no longer, and with a final moan of ecstasy, she thrust her hips high above the bed and found her release.
Mistress then got off my wife's mouth, gave her another passionate kiss, and began dressing. As she left the room she said to us, "Do not forget your appointment next week. I plan to have several other men there at that time, so that my newest slave can know the pleasures of being fucked repeatedly by exquisitely-large cocks. The two of you may engage in sex through Friday night, but after that you are to remain chaste. I want you both to be aroused to a high degree when you arrive at my chamber Monday night, so that Anna-Marie will be in the correct mood when she is bred time and time again by the other men."
With that she left us, and as soon as we heard the front door click shut, we kissed and fucked, and then gave each other oral sex the rest of the night. I know that my wife was just as aroused as I, because she had never in the past experienced three orgasms during the same night. As for me, I did it twice more, until my organ and my balls were so pain-filled they would no longer cooperate.
And now we are waiting for Monday night to arrive. Our final sexual session was last night, which means we must somehow get through three nights of abstinence before all our lusts can be satisfied in Mistress Estelle's chamber.
Wish us luck!
THE END
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Questions or comments? Please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com.
