Chapter 3

‘Wake up.’

Alex blinked, hearing a female voice close by. She tried to turn over, feeling unbelievably uncomfortable. Her waking mind was flooded with images from the night before. She gasped and struggled to sit up. Her arms were so numb she could barely feel them. The tight leather straps still held her firm. She groaned and then licked her lips, aware of the stale taste of sleep in her mouth. Above her the face of the elderly housekeeper came into view. Alex blushed furiously. The older woman shook her head.

‘I tell you Mr Tourne is wicked man,’ she said flatly. ‘You should not come here.’

‘Have you come to let me out?’ Alex asked, wincing at the ache in her bladder.

The woman sighed theatrically. ‘Yes, I let you out, but first Mr Tourne he want you shaved. Turn onto your back.’

Alex began to protest, thinking about Gena’s slick and exposed sex.

The woman above her just shrugged. ‘If I don’t shave you, you stay tied on floor. Mr Tourne, he say so.’

‘I want to use the bathroom,’ snapped Alex, turning so that she could catch the woman’s eyes. The housekeeper shrugged as if she didn’t understand.

‘The toilet,’ Alex repeated desperately. ‘Please!’

Comprehension dawned at last, and the older woman smiled. ‘I shave you first, then you go to toilet.’ As she spoke she jerked the blanket back off Alex’s body. She looked over the girl’s slim well - proportioned frame with something akin to professional coolness.

‘You have nice body,’ she said as she fingered Alex’s tender breasts. Alex flinched at her touch, the single pain awaking a thousand others. ‘Mario, he come to you also?’

Alex pulled a face. ‘Mario?’

‘Mr Tourne, his driver, he like to bite, you have bruise here.’ She poked the sore area again and Alex winced.

‘Mario, he like boys best.’ She lifted a questioning eyebrow at Alex, who felt hot threads of humiliation course through her. The old woman’s words conjured up the driver’s leering, ugly face and his thick meaty phallus pressing home into her. Alex reddened; there had been no way to stop him. She could still feel the pain.

The old woman pouted. ‘But he don’t mind girls too, and you can’t stop him like this,’ she indicated Alex’s bonds. ‘Now, I shave you.’

Alex looked way, feeling her colour deepen under the woman’s scrutiny. What could she say? She was as powerless to resist the old woman as she’d been to stop Mario or Peter Tourne from doing exactly as they wished with her.

The woman made a clucking, motherly noise. ‘You stay very, very still. I don’t want cut you.’

Alex shivered at the possibility, listening now to the slosh of water. The woman returned.

‘Open your legs, little one,’ she said, prising Alex’s aching thighs apart. ‘Open them real wide.’

Alex closed her eyes as the housekeeper began to lather the coppery curls around her sex. Her hands were practised and confident. Alex shuddered as she felt the first cold rasping stroke of the razor and then froze, remembering what the housekeeper had said about staying still. She tensed, listening to each compelling stroke, resisting the desire to shudder at her exposure. She held her breath, willing herself not to move, trying not to even think, until the old woman finally struggled back to her feet.

‘There, you are done now,’ the housekeeper said with a smile. ‘You need to rinse soap off.’

Alex wriggled. ‘Let me get up now, please.’

The woman mumbled something and then reached above Alex’s head. Alex felt the leather thongs give and them lifted her hands slowly until she could see them. Every muscle in her back ached.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered as she struggled to sit up. Her head span.

The woman crouched over her with a look of concern on her face. ‘Slowly,’ she said, ‘don’t rush.’

Alex nodded and finally, if unsteadily, sat upright. The icy touch of the floor was like a balm against her glowing buttocks.

The woman glanced across the room. Alex followed her eyes - the interior was bare except for a series of rings in the floors and walls and ceiling and an expanse of cupboards. At one end of the long room were two doors set into the wall.

The old woman handed Alex a thin cotton robe. ‘There is bathroom there,’ she said, pointing towards one of the doors, and then glanced down at the remains of Alex’s dress on the flagstones. ‘I bring something clean to wear.’ She bundled up Alex’s clothes and then, carrying them and the bowl of water, hurried away.

Once she’d left, Alex grabbed the robe and dragged it around her shoulders. Her body protested, every muscle and sinew felt knotted and sore. She clambered unsteadily to her feet, and hobbled towards the bathroom door. As she walked the slick fragrant remains of her night spent with Peter Tourne and Mario trickled out onto her thighs. She shuddered and pushed the door open.

In the bathroom the walls were lined with more built-in cupboards. She opened the first one - it contained perfume and toiletries, the next one a pile of thick luxurious towels. Alex turned on the taps, ran a deep bath and then gratefully slipped into the warm water. She sighed as the water eased away the pain. Stretching, she took in the startling, naked contours of her sex. The clean lines were shocking, and at the same time deeply erotic. She looked way, feeling the mixture of intense emotions bubbling up through her. Soaping herself, her fingertips sought out the aftermath of the damage from the previous night.

On her breast were the deep navy teeth marks of one of Mario’s bites, other lesser bruises pinched and ached as she touched them. Finally she let the soap slide down between her legs. The naked mound of her pubis felt strange under her fingers. She opened her legs wider, wincing as she felt the bruising inside, and behind it the sensation of raw violation that she didn’t feel ready to contemplate.

A picture of Mario’s eager, lascivious face filled her mind. She shook her head and tried to drive his image away when she succeeded his features were replaced by the cool and aristocratic face of Peter Tourne. She swallowed hard and slid further down into the warm water, willing it to heal her body and soak away the desperate aches and stiffness.

Finally dried and feeling somewhat restored, Alex glanced into the mirror above the basin. Her blue eyes were bright, despite her lack of sleep. Her lips and breasts were bruised from Mario’s attentions - but what surprised her most was that other than the obvious bruising she looked no different; she was unchanged by the events of the night before. Thoughtfully she ran a finger over the livid purple mark inside her bottom lip, wincing as she found the tender spot where Mario had bitten her. Her mouth still felt dirty. She shuddered as she remembered the driver’s filthy kisses and the odour of tobacco and beer. She opened another cabinet and found a toothbrush and paste. Gratefully she spat into the sink and attempted to scrub away the last physical remains of the peasant’s invasion of her body. She pulled the robe tight. Glancing back at the mirror she smiled; at least her body now felt clean - although her mind was a very different matter.

Outside the bathroom, on the floor, lay one of her favourite floral dresses that the housekeeper had obviously collected from the guest cottage. Alex picked it up and pulled a face - the woman had forgotten to bring her any underwear, and had already taken away the things she had been wearing the night before. She sighed and pulled the dress over her head, ignoring the complaints from her body as she moved.

By the rings in the floor where she had spent the previous night were her sandals, discarded at some point, but not forgotten. Alex slipped them on and then made her way out into the bright sunlight.

It took her a few seconds to work out exactly where she was - she had no desire to go back into the house - instead she went back to the steep path around the outside of the villa and climbed up until she found a way into the garden that would lead to the guest cabin.

Inside, on the table in the sitting room, someone had set out a breakfast tray with orange juice, coffee and hot light rolls. Alex ate ravenously, cramming the delicious bread into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten for a week.

She had barely had a chance to collect her thoughts and finish her breakfast before Gena appeared at the open door. Her sudden appearance made Alex jump. Gena’s expression was dark and unreadable, but there was a split moment when their eyes locked, each female understanding fully what the other had recently experienced.

Gena was the first to break the silence. ‘Peter wants to see you in sitting room.’

Alex hesitated. ‘I’m not really dressed,’ she began, glancing down at her thin dress. Through the lightweight fabric she could make out the shadowy outline of her nipples, and the curve of her breasts.

Gena’s eyes flashed. ‘He said you are to come.’

Alex nodded, remembering Peter Tourne’s reaction to her disobedience. ‘All right,’ she said quickly, standing the cup down.

Gena turned so that the sunlight shone through her elegantly tailored dress. Picked out by the sun her silhouetted figure was stunning. Alex swallowed hard, knowing from the events of the night before that Gena too, was naked beneath her dress.

She followed the blonde down into the main house, struck once again by the peaceful qualities and the elegance of the hallway and the rippling sounds of the fountain. Ahead of her Gena mounted the staircase that led up to the sitting room.

The blonde opened the door and let Alex go in first. Peter Tourne was sitting across the room in an armchair, looking out into the garden below. Starn was standing behind him. His eyes roamed slowly over Alex and then to Gena as the two women stepped into the room.

‘You wanted to see me?’ Alex said softly.

Peter Tourne said nothing - he didn’t even move. It was Starn who stepped closer, his eyes resting on the curve of Alex’s body where it touched the thin fabric of her summer dress. Under Starn’s unsettling gaze Alex was astounded to feel her nipples hardening, pressing forward to reveal themselves through the material.

‘Did you have her shaved?’ asked Starn over his shoulder to Tourne. His eyes gleamed as he noticed the outline of her nipples.

Peter Tourne was still looking into the garden outside. ‘Show him,’ he said flatly.

Alex felt herself flush scarlet, and she hesitated.

His voice lowered to a menacing purr. ‘Don’t make me ask you again, Alex. You know how I reward disobedience.’

Knowing she had no other choice but to obey, Alex gathered up the hem of her skirt, lifting it slowly to reveal the soft vulnerable curves of her naked sex. Starn licked his lips greedily. He stepped forward as if he intended to touch her. Alex flinched and instinctively stepped back towards the door.

Peter Tourne turned to look at her, his eyes resting first on her sex, and then her face. He smiled. ‘Very good.’ He glanced across at Gena. ‘Take off your dress, Gena, then come here and stand by me.’

Without any hesitation Gena began to undo the buttons of her shirt-dress, revealing the heavy swell of her breasts. Alex stood motionless, her fingers knotted in the thin material of her frock, while Gena let her dress fall into a silky puddle around her feet.

Peter Tourne glanced back at Alex. ‘I want you to kiss Gena,’ he said softly. Alex shivered but didn’t move. His penetrating eyes never left her face. ‘Am I not making myself clear?’ His tone hardened. ‘Let me explain. I want you to kneel in front of her, part her thighs, and then kiss her, caress her. Use that tongue and those pretty lips of yours to bring her to the very brink of ecstasy.’

Alex gasped; she had thought he meant a real kiss on the lips - and that prospect had abhorred her - but what he actually meant completely astounded her. She dropped the hem of her skirt.

‘No,’ she stammered, ‘I won’t, I can’t!’

Peter Tourne lifted his hands in resignation. ‘Why do you insist on fighting me, Alex? What I ask is so easy. All you have to do is give yourself to me. Let me guide you show you, teach you. Ah well.’ he looked at Gena and then at Starn. ‘Lift your skirt up again, Alex.’

She did so very slowly, with great reluctance.

‘Now Gena will show you how it’s done.’ He fixed her eyes with steely determination. ‘And you will let her. Do you understand me?’

Alex couldn’t bring herself to answer him.

‘Do you understand me?’ he snapped again.

This time she nodded and Starn stepped behind her. One of his hands slipped round her wrists, holding her fingers tight in the skirt. He jerked them higher until her whole belly was exposed. His other hand snaked around her shoulders until one of her breasts rested in his palm. He squeezed firmly, his thumb and fingers seeking out her nipple, which to Alex’s horror, hardened again under his touch.

Gena walked slowly across the room. It was impossible for Alex to ignore her pale and delicate eroticism. Peter Tourne nodded towards a stool and the gorgeous blonde pulled it up in front of Alex, before arranging herself onto it on all fours.

She glanced up at Alex, her eyes glittering as she ran her tongue around her red painted lips. Alex let out a desperate whine and then closed her eyes as she felt Gena’s warm breath on her belly. An instant later she gasped as Gena planted the lightest of kisses on the junction where her heavy outer lips met. Behind her she heard Starn sigh and felt him tighten his grip on her. He slid his knee between her thighs and forced her legs wider apart.

In contrast to Starn’s touch, Gena’s tongue was soft and enquiring, her mouth planting delicate kisses on the lips of her quim. Her tongue eased Alex’s sex open, probing and seeking out the hard ridge of her clitoris. Alex gasped softly as the blonde found her goal and then started to nibble and suck at the little throbbing bud. Behind her Starn changed position, his fingers now dropping from the hem of her skirt to the naked contours of her sex. She tried to push him away but he was strong and persistent. His fingers slid down to hold her body open for Gena’s probing tongue.

The blonde girl’s attentions were frightening in their intensity. Within seconds Alex could feel the spiral of her excitement growing. Gena’s fingers joined her tongue, stroking and caressing and teasing. Alex gasped, feeling as if she was losing the control of every part of her body. She found herself leaning back against Starn, and could make out the pressing of his penis through her dress. She moaned as Gena plunged her fingers up into her willing body, exploring her sensitive and moist interior. Her fingers stroked along the inner lips, dipping in and out of the wet slit between. Alex let out a long wild sob as Gena returned her attentions to her clitoris and dragged a perfectly painted fingernail across the throbbing hood that protected the little bud.

The sheer intensity of the sensations threatened to drown her. Alex writhed helplessly, opening her legs wider, her body’s desire suppressing her mind’s revulsion. She thrust herself onto Gena’s waiting tongue, straining to catch every last electric caress.

Moaning and twisting, with Starn supporting her, Alex surrendered herself totally to the feelings Gena lit in her. All restraint and all embarrassment was pushed back by her body’s single-minded struggle for satisfaction.

Suddenly Alex knew she couldn’t resist the spirals of excitement any longer. She screamed, letting the heat of the climax engulf her. As though in a dream she heard Starn laughing softly, still holding her tight. Even before the last waves of pleasure had crashed through her she heard Tourne say:

‘Very good, Gena. Now come to me.’

Alex opened her eyes in time to see the luscious blonde crawling towards her master. As she reached him she lay her head in his lap.

He looked up at Alex whilst he ruffled Gena’s hair playfully - it looked as if he were stroking a kitten.

Alex watched, mesmerised, as Gena began to undo the zip of his trousers. Before she could free his cock, he tipped her head back and kissed her full on the lips. Alex shuddered, imagining the salty taste of her own juices on Gena’s mouth.

Behind her Starn relinquished his grip. His voice was thick with excitement.

‘Take off your dress, bitch,’ he said huskily. Alex looked over at Peter Tourne in desperation.

He merely smiled arrogantly as Gena ran her expert tongue along his engorged shaft. ‘Do exactly as Starn tells you,’ he said quietly.

Alex thought about the night before. Hadn’t he said that she would learn to obey him? She could hear his voice in her spinning head: ‘you won’t need to ask me what I want, you will know instinctively. You will be available for everything I desire. All the time, night and day’. Was this what he meant?

Alex pulled her dress up over her head and dropped it to the floor. Naked, she turned to face Starn.

‘That’s better,’ he said, and sneered victoriously. ‘Now come closer.’ She did as he ordered, trembling as he lifted her right breast to his lips and lapped at the bruise Mario’s bite had left. Cradling her breast in his fingers he closed his lips around her nipple, sucking it hard into his mouth. Below, he delved into the fragrant moist confines of her body. Her sex, so close to orgasm, tightened around him. Starn grunted appreciatively.

Eyes alight with sexual hunger, he guided her back towards a sideboard. Resting her weight against the edge, he slipped his hands under her thighs, lifting them to encircle his waist. With one hand he unzipped his trousers, letting them slide towards the floor.

His cock was slim and arched towards Alex with a single glistening drop of moisture clinging to its tip. He let the swollen helmet nuzzle between her throbbing lips. The sensation made her shiver. He sneered again as he saw her reaction, and then pulled her forward roughly so that he could slip into her.

As her body closed around him, his face contorted into an expression of pure victorious pleasure. She glanced down and was shocked by the image of his slim phallus sliding into her, her naked sex gathered and puckered around the junction were their bodies met. Above his cock, the little bud of her clitoris throbbed, revealed and then hidden by each of Starn’s eager thrusts.

Alex could sense it wouldn’t be long before Starn lost control. Across the room Peter Tourne watched their coupling dispassionately, despite the ministrations of Gena. In his lap her red lips closed again and again on his erect penis. Only a slight tightening around his mouth and jaw gave lie to the sensations the blonde was lighting in him.

Alex held his stare, watching every nuance of his expression, whilst Starn forced himself deeper and deeper into her. His thrusts were wild and ragged now, making her already aching body feel sore and beaten.

From across the room, perched as she was on the ornate piece of furniture with Starn thrusting maniacally at her, Alex watched Peter Tourne swallow hard. He seemed to momentarily lose his concentration, and she knew he too was losing control. In his lap Gena moaned as she swallowed, lapping against the pulsating ejaculation of his phallus.

The sound of Gena’s muffled little cry was enough for Starn. He lurched forward. Deep inside Alex felt the energetic throb of his orgasm breathlessly he leant against her, his heat seeping through into her naked skin. She gasped and trembled again as she felt his seed fill her to the brim.

Peter Tourne pushed Gena away, letting her collect her clothes, whilst Starn stepped away from Alex, his spent cock trailing its juices onto her thighs. He grinned lazily at her, his eyes glistening.

Peter Tourne stood up, still holding Alex’s gaze.

‘I want you to begin the preliminary sketches for the mural today,’ he said, as if they were both stepping away from a consultation meeting. ‘Perhaps you would start after lunch. I’m sure you could now do with a little rest - after all your exertions.’

Alex nodded, ‘I’ll begin this afternoon,’ she said with equal coolness, and stooped to pick up her dress, slipping it easily over her shoulders. She followed him to the door, her expression as impassive as that of the man she knew she would learn to relish; the man she knew could guide her to the dark heights of ecstasy.

Back in her cabin Alex showered quickly, her mind desperately trying to blot out the exotic images of Gena crouched between her legs. She turned the water to a roaring bore to drive away the smell of Starn’s body and the warm glow that still pulsed from deep within. Naked and still damp, she threw herself onto the bed and dragged the quilt up and over her body. Seconds later she fell asleep, her dreams alight with the new sensations Peter Tourne’s tuition had awakened in her.

When Alex awoke the afternoon sun was streaming into the comfortable bedroom. Outside in the cabin’s sitting room someone had opened the French windows and left a tray of food on the table outside on the terrace. The tray was complete with a bowl of tiny roses. Alex stretched, feeling the aches and pulls of the exertions of the last twenty-four hours.

As she dressed she caught sight of herself in the bedroom mirror - her shaved pussy gave her whole body a strange alien quality. She stopped for a few seconds to examine her reflection. Her eyes glittered, fresh from sleep. Below on one breast were Mario’s teeth marks, like a livid blue badge. Lower, below her waist, her body ached, but even so it was still only the exotic naked lips of her sex that really marked the changes that had taken place.

She slipped on a light Indian cotton smock with sandals, deciding - in view of Peter Tourne’s apparent tastes - that it might be better to leave her underwear off. After she’d eaten she collected her shoulder bag, picked up a sketchpad, pencils, and her tape measure, and then set off into the garden to begin work on the site of the mural.

The long gallery was deliciously cool. It was thrown into deep shadows, and it didn’t take Alex long to find a comfortable spot to contemplate her new commission. She chose not to consider what lay beyond the door at the end of the gallery.

In Vernis restaurant she had painted a banqueting scene, showing wild revellers in beautiful medieval costume. The overall effect had been rich and colourful, not unlike a tapestry. But what would she create for Peter Tourne?

She smiled to herself - a Bacchanalian orgy would be most appropriate, she thought darkly, as she began to make a few preliminary sketches.

On the ceiling of the long gallery the reflections of the swimming pool below shimmered and glinted. She stretched, enjoying the luxurious setting and the quietly calming sounds of the water. She didn’t hear Peter Tourne’s soft footsteps as he came in through the archway, and she jumped when he appeared in her field of vision.

He smiled at her discomfort. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’

Alex shook her head, glancing up at the enigmatic man who had discovered the way to set her body alight. ‘I was miles away, thinking about what I could do with this.’ She lifted her hand to indicate the blank walls.

He moved a little closer his eyes were dark and mischievous. ‘How quickly your mind moves onto other things - I’m impressed. May I ask what you have decided to paint for me?’

Alex sighed. ‘That isn’t exactly how this works. You’re the client, you tell me what you want, and then I do it.’

He stared at her. ‘An arrangement I approve of.’

Alex blushed and lay down her pencil. She could feel his eyes on her body. She stood up to face him, feeling the little flurry of excitement and fear returning in her belly. He lifted a hand and ran it gently over her breasts. Her nipples hardened at his touch. Lower still he stroked at the contours of her sex. She moaned as his knowing fingers traced her heavy outer lips. He smiled at her, like a dark and dangerous wolf, and then stepped back as if satisfied.

Alex was astounded by the intensity of feelings he lit within her, realising too that he had been exploring her to see if she was wearing anything beneath the smock.

‘I like my pupils to be ready for my lessons, whenever I want to instruct them.’ His voice dropped to a low purr.

Alex shivered.

Tourne glanced towards the door at the end of the gallery.

Alex laughed nervously and tried to tear her mind back to the mural. She focused unsteadily at the blank gallery wall. ‘What do you imagine when you look at this wall?’ she said as lightly as she could.

The question seemed to break the spell. He stepped forward to touch the smooth white plaster. ‘A forest,’ he said. ‘A magical, wild, green place, full of angels and devils and exotic mythical beasts.’

Alex nodded it was an idea that smacked of sheer genius. The gallery, with the water below and its backdrop of tangled rich green creepers, would be an ideal setting for his fantasy forest.

‘That’s a wonderful idea!’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Do you want people in your magical forest?’

Peter Tourne looked back at her, his eyes alight and glistening. ‘Oh yes,’ he murmured. ‘What would fantasy be without people to enjoy it?’ He touched the wall again. ‘Lost souls playing games in amongst the trees.’

Alex looked at him levelly. ‘Lost souls?’ she murmured.

He shrugged. ‘Players then, lost souls is not quite what I mean.’ He paused and stared at her. ‘What I am striving to create here at KaRoche is a game,’ he said softly. ‘A dark magical compelling game.’

Alex swallowed hard and forced her eyes to hold his, knowing that somehow they had strayed away from the mural and back into the electric desires of Peter Tourne’s mind.

‘And what do you want me to do with your mural, Mr Tourne?’

‘I would like you to reflect my intentions,’ he whispered. ‘Hint at the magic that can be had if you just submit to it; lay yourself bare to its enchantment.’

Alex felt her colour rise. ‘And if your players submit themselves to your magic?’

He moved closer, his fingers returning to the hard puckered buds of her nipples. ‘Then they can choose how long their enchantment lasts. Some will choose to stay in my wood forever. Others will leave and plant a fantasy of their own.’

Alex shivered, but did not resist as his lips pressed to hers. His fingers on her breasts became rougher, twisting and nipping at the sensitive buds. Alex moaned, feeling the heat rekindling between her legs. She pressed herself to him. Instantly he froze and pulled way, his eyes darkening into unfathomable pools.

‘Let us not forget, Alex Sanderson, who the master is here, and who the pupil is.’

Alex blushed. ‘But I thought...’

He ran his hand down over her belly. His touch was totally possessive.

‘There is no need for you to think, Alex, I will think for you. You have chosen to stay, now you must realise that you have joined my game and you will play by my rules.’ He let his hand drop away and walked back towards the archway. ‘I will see you at dinner.’

Alex nodded instinctively and picked up her drawing pad, clutching it like a touchstone against Peter Tourne’s dark enchantment. After he left she stood staring at the blank wall of the gallery, her mind reeling with erotic images that he conjured in her mind, and a peculiar sense of frustration.

It took time for Alex to regain her composure. Despite Peter Tourne’s unexpected intrusion she knew she had to get on with the sketches and lay her tape out to measure the walls. A residue of excitement glowed in her belly with an intensity that both surprised and unnerved her. Her hands shook as she scribbled down the measurements and then some ideas for the mural. The words ‘dark enchantment’ appearing again and again on her list. Finally she sat down by the poolside and began to sketch.

Drawing was like an addiction to Alex. Its magic pulled her in so that it was easy to forget everything else - or at least, almost everything else. She worked single-mindedly until the fading light made it impossible to continue. Glancing at her watch she realised with surprise that most of the day had gone. She lay the sketchpad down and collected her pencils together. As she took one final look at the pictures she had drawn she realised that every man’s face bore an uncanny resemblance to that of Peter Tourne.

She stared at the drawings as if she was seeing them for the first time: Between two trees a nymph was tied and blindfolded, awaiting the attention of her master, her pert breasts pressing through the gossamer of her robe, her sex open and exposed. On the adjoining page a second girl lay spread-eagled. She struggled and fought, her hips lifting instinctively, while the satyr who crouched above her looked on with a riding crop in his hand. On the next sheet, in a shady woodland glade, two women embraced, one kneeling before the other, her tongue deep in the other woman’s quim, while their master looked on with pleasure. Alex reddened furiously and snapped the sketchbook shut. Stuffing it into her shoulder bag she hurried back to the cabin in time to change for dinner. Back at the cabin Alex quickly got ready for dinner. Sitting by the dressing table, adding the final touches to her make-up, Alex wondered if Gena would come to call for her again. She leant closer to the mirror, adding a final touch of lipstick. The soft coral pink complemented her light tan. As she drew the stick across her lips she thought about Gena’s mouth pressed close to her sex, its contours working on the delicate folds of her body, bringing her closer and closer to the moment of release. The intense images brought a flush to her cheeks. How was she going to face Gena or Starn after the earlier events in the sitting room?

Meeting Peter Tourne had changed her life forever. Trying to dismiss the erotic thoughts she picked up her bag and turned off the lights. Standing in the darkness she wondered for a moment what other lessons he had in mind for her. Outside, the night closed around her like black silk, adding to the sense of expectation. She nibbled her lower lip; was it possible to live so close to the edge? With every minute that passed something seemed to make her think about passion or pain. As Alex reached the doors to the villa she hesitated, hearing the sounds of voices from within. She wondered what she might discover inside.

The doors opened before she touched the handle. Peter Tourne’s housekeeper stood in the hallway, her dark eyes expressionless. Alex nodded her thanks, wondering whether the old woman’s tense demeanour was one of excitement or anger.

‘They waiting for you upstairs,’ she snapped and hurried away into the shadows.

Alex climbed the stairs and found Gena and Starn sitting on one of the long leather sofas in the sitting room. They were each cradling a glass of rich red wine. Alex felt herself blush even before anyone had a chance to speak.

Starn nodded towards the next flight of stairs that led up to the dining room. ‘Peter is waiting for you, he would like you to go up to him.’

Alex went without hesitation, relieved not to have to make polite conversation with her two morning lovers.

Peter Tourne was standing by the window speaking into a mobile phone.

‘Yes, it’s working out fine, we’re just about to have dinner,’ he said, watching Alex’s progress as she crossed the room. ‘In fact she’s here now, would you like a word with her?’ He handed her the phone. ‘It’s your agent.’

Alex felt a sense of relief; Laurence Russell represented normality and real life. While in London he’d always seemed a little disturbing, on D’arnos even the sound of his name lifted her spirits. She glanced at her host, and immediately realised he had no intention of leaving. ‘Hello?’ she said.

‘Hello, Alex. I thought I’d give you a day or two to settle in. How’s it going?’

The tension in Alex’s stomach eased with the sound of Laurence’s familiar voice.

‘I hope Mr Tourne’s treating you well. He’s a very important client of mine.’

Alex swallowed hard, staring at Peter, who was standing beside her.

‘I’m fine,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve started the first sketches today.’ She imagined Laurence in his London office. He often worked late, and as he made enquiries about the job she visualised him seated behind his impressive oak desk, his grey eyes flashing. Odd, she thought, until she’d met Peter Tourne she’d always found Laurence Russell intimidating. He had an upright, military bearing that made her feel uneasy, and sometimes she sensed, when she looked up at him, that he’d been watching her. She had wondered several times whether his interest in her was purely professional. Now she was just relieved to hear him - a voice of normality and reason amongst confusion. Laurence Russell’s artistic empire couldn’t be further away from the events at KaRoche.

As Alex spoke Peter Tourne lifted the hem of her dress. She shivered.

‘The only thing is that they were expecting me to be a man,’ she said.

Laurence laughed dryly. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘Perhaps I ought to have warned Mr Tourne that you’re all woman. It hasn’t caused you any problems, has it?’

Alex felt strong fingers seeking out the folds of her sex. How on earth could she answer Laurence’s question? ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I think he’s quite pleased with me.’

‘You sound somewhat subdued. Are you okay?’

Before she had a chance to reply Peter Tourne took the phone from her, and in doing so he let a long finger snake around to find a way inside her. She let out a strangled gasp as he found his mark.

‘I am very pleased - I just wish you’d told me. Alex is proving to be extremely talented,’ he said with a smile, tucking the phone under his chin. ‘I am delighted with her efforts so far.’ His fingers moved to and fro in an intimate, invasive arc. ‘I think she’ll do very well here.’

Alex didn’t quite hear Laurence’s reply at the other end of the line, but Peter Tourne laughed. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure she’ll prove to be more than satisfactory. I’m afraid we have to go now, we’re just about to eat.’ While he made his goodbyes his finger remained in place. Alex stood frozen to the spot, afraid to move.

He looked at her as he placed the phone on the side table.

‘Well done,’ he said softly, while pulling his finger from her body. She flinched, but didn’t resist as he lifted his hands to her face and pressed the finger into her mouth. The heady musk of her own body flooded her taste buds.

He smiled. ‘We will eat, and then later we’ll continue with your education.’ Alex’s eyes didn’t leave his. He took her hand and led her to the table, seating her beside him. A second or two later Gena and Starn appeared, and dinner was served.

As each course was completed Alex couldn’t help but wonder what would happen once they had finished their meal. A little spark of tension hung in the air, and by the time coffee was served the atmosphere was so expectant that Alex could hardly bear the wait. Finally Peter Tourne looked at her.

‘Go down to the room near gallery and wait for me there,’ he said softly. She felt a little tremor of excitement and hesitated for an instant - did she really want her education to continue? He looked at her again, but by this time she was on her feet and moving.

Afraid to look back in case her courage failed her, she hurried down through the house and out into the garden, imagining his footfalls on the stairs behind her. Scurrying through the velvet shadows of the gallery above the pool she opened the door of the room where she had spent the night, and gasped - waiting inside was Mario, his dark feral eyes glistening in the gloom.

Alex glanced back over her shoulder, wondering where Peter Tourne was. Across the room Mario leered and licked his lips.

‘No - you shouldn’t be here,’ she stammered, as the rough looking man crept towards her. ‘Mr Tourne said,’ she began, and then remembered that he’d told her to wait for him. She had to obey his instructions - she couldn’t leave. She had to stay if she wanted what Peter Tourne had to offer.

Alex moved towards the door until her back was against the wall. She trembled slightly. Mario’s eyes wandered over her body, as cruel and obscene, as his fingers had been the night before. Alex was desperately aware that her clothes offered little protection from the him. She was wearing the thinnest of cotton dresses and was naked beneath, in anticipation of Peter Tourne’s needs.

Mario continued to leer at her, and slowly extended a hand. Alex shook her head violently, and started to side step towards the door. As her fingers closed around the door handle Mario lunged forward and grabbed hold of her arms. Her first instinct was to bring her knee up, but to her horror Mario anticipated the move and dodged the blow before it hit home.

His dark eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and amusement.

‘You want hurt me?’ he said gruffly. Alex wriggled to try and free her hands, pulling desperately to escape him. As she did the door opened behind her and she spun around to see Peter Tourne and Starn framed in the opening. She sighed with relief.

‘Oh, thank God,’ she whispered. ‘He was already waiting when I got here. He - ’ To her abject surprise Mario didn’t release her, in fact if anything his grip tightened.

Peter Tourne smiled thinly. ‘I know he was, my dear. He was dutifully obeying my orders, as he always does.’ He turned to the driver. ‘Tie her up, Mario.’

Alex stared at him in astonishment. ‘No,’ she pleaded. ‘Please, Mr Tourne, tell him to stop - please! You know I’ll do exactly what you want!’

As she begged Mario pulled a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket and deftly snapped them onto her wrists. Her heart began to race. It seemed the encounter with Mario was part of the education Peter Tourne had in mind for her.

Part of her wanted to laugh; this was silly, just a game - but she wanted them to stop now. She looked from face to face, desperately hoping to find a hint of compassion in the eyes of one of them. Instead she found an unnerving mixture of desire and contempt that knocked every ounce of resistance out of her.

With a slight nod of his head Tourne signalled to Mario, who dragged Alex to the centre of the room. Glancing up she noticed for the first time a hook suspended on a length of chain from the ceiling. Surely it had not been there before? She squirmed as Mario held her with one strong arm while he pulled her hands up and attached the hook to the centre of the chain, which linked her cuffs. He leered constantly, obviously enjoying his work, and then adjusted the chain so that her hands were lifted above her head, her feet just resting on the floor. Alex was trussed like an animal carcass.

Tourne nodded his approval. Mario moved away, and Alex couldn’t help but notice his disgusting erection jutting forward through his chinos. Another almost discernible nod from his boss, and Mario rubbed his hands together, and then opened one of the cupboards set in the far wall. From inside he produced a set of leg irons; a long steel bar, with an ankle cuff at each end.

‘Please,’ Alex begged softly. ‘There’s no need for all this. I’ve already promised to do everything you want. Surely you know that? I - ’ Her ramblings were cut short as Mario grabbed each of her ankles. She shuddered and instinctively tried to draw away from him. He snorted and grabbed her foot, dragging off one of her shoes. He unbalanced her, and the sockets in her shoulders screamed out in complaint. If she fought too much, he would tip her over and then her whole weight would be suspended on her arms. The thought horrified her. Mario lifted one foot higher to snap the ankle cuff into place and as he did he lifted her foot to his mouth and ran his tongue between her toes.

Alex gasped in horror. The sensation turned her stomach to liquid. Spreading her legs wider Mario pushed the bar into position and snapped the second cuff into place. He knelt back on his heels to admire his handiwork. Alex’s sense of panic was growing with every passing second. She was totally at the mercy of the three men - nothing she could do would prevent them from doing whatever they pleased with her. She twisted and tried to meet Peter’s eyes. Surely now that his henchman had secured her he himself would take over?

‘You have to understand the true nature of obedience, Alex.’ Peter Tourne said quietly. ‘This is a game we are playing, but you have to understand it is I, not you, who makes the rules.’

His voice shook her to the core. She stared at him. ‘Mr Tourne...’ she began, uncertain as to what she actually wanted to say.

He held up his hands. ‘Speak only when I tell you to. You make the mistake of believing that who you are and what you think is important to us here. In this game the only things you have to offer are a - your body, and b - your total obedience to my every wish.’ As he allowed his words to sink in, he nodded again to Mario.

The burly driver stepped closer and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Before Alex could protest he blindfolded her.

Suddenly plunged into darkness, Alex felt her terror mingling with the same dark, unnerving wave of expectation that had haunted her since her arrival at KaRoche. Rough hands clawed at her dress, ripping it away like tissue. She mewled in fear as the cool evening air hit her body. Now she was truly defenceless. She strained to try and hear what was going on in the room. Her head span. She was on the edge of hysteria when she felt the touch of a hand. Was it Mario or Tourne or Starn who was exploring her intimately now - pawing and licking her vulnerable breasts and nipples? Her sense of smell gave her the answer she needed; the stench of Mario’s beer-soaked and sweating body threatened to overwhelm her. And she knew, as Mario thrust a rough finger into her, that the master and his guest were quietly watching while the servant played.

The sense of humiliation made her flush scarlet. Did Tourne and Starn plan to watch while Mario indulged himself? Did they intend to watch while he forced his thick cock into whichever orifice took his fancy? Tears welled up inside her, soaking the blindfold, while Mario’s fingers opened her sex wider and teased at the tight bud of her clitoris.

What stunned Alex more than her fear and her sense of shame was that some rogue part of her mind was breathlessly excited by what was happening. Despite everything, Mario’s crude fumbling sent a ricochet of pleasure up through her belly. As he pushed and prodded, making her shriek with fear and secret pleasures, she imagined Peter Tourne’s eyes on her, savouring every detail of the erotic scene.

Picturing his expression in her mind, she didn’t feel Mario’s teeth closing on her nipple until too late. She gasped in anguish as he bit her, and then tried to pull away from him, fighting her own mounting desire as much as her tormentor’s touch. She heard him snort and step away.

For a moment Alex wondered if Mario would stop now - perhaps her punishment was over. They would leave her tied and alone with her feverish thoughts and fears. Her sense of relief was short-lived. From behind the blindfold she heard the unnerving sound of something cutting through the air, and an instant later a corona of pain exploded in her mind as a lash bit her squarely across the shoulders. She screamed and tried to fight. She twisted and turned against her restraints, oblivious suddenly to the pain in her shoulders. She span so far that the second blow caught her breasts, burning across her already sore nipples like a firebrand. The sensation was so astonishing that she leapt into the air. In her solitude it seemed as if she was defying gravity; almost flying away from the pain.

Before she had time to recover another blow wrapped around her waist, and she knew with blinding certainty that Mario was using an old-fashioned horsewhip. Another blow seared across her shoulders before the pain of the previous one had had a chance to ebb. The sensations threatened to consume her, like a flame speeding along a fuse and leaving a white-hot residue on her flesh and in her mind that refused to be extinguished. Every nerve ending in her body felt as if it was alight. More unnerving, along with the pain, plaited and twisted in with everything else, Alex could still feel terrifying threads of pleasure weaving themselves together. She heard a voice begging and mewling, and was stunned to realise it was her own.

For an instant she wondered if she would go mad. Would the sensations she was feeling catch light and consume her? How was it, that in all the years she’d lived, she’d never been aware of this dark seed growing within her? Out beyond the pain and the pleasure she suddenly understood what was compelling her to accept Peter Tourne’s education - it was the act of total surrender. She gasped as the realisation flooded over her, struggling to catch her breath as Mario applied the whip again and again. She had given herself totally to Peter Tourne - an act of trust beyond anything she had ever thought herself capable.

‘Let go,’ whispered a voice close by. For an instant Alex wondered if it was her own inner voice speaking, and then she realised it was the voice of her master, Peter Tourne. Had he been able to read her mind?

‘Let go,’ he urged again as the whip bit into her back. She whimpered, finally letting all rational thoughts trickle away as her body was caught up in the maelstrom of pleasure and pain. As Mario struck again all that remained was sensation - as electrifying and all engulfing as a summer storm.

Peter Tourne sensed the moment of surrender, that split second when Alex Sanderson abandoned everything she’d ever known and committed herself to him completely. He had witnessed it many times before, and had an instinctive understanding of when a pupil became his slave. Whatever else happened to Alex Sanderson, she would never be the same again. The seed that had lain dormant for so long would blossom and grow under his expert tutelage.

He signalled to Mario to bring the whipping to an end. A trickle of sweat ran down between Alex’s straining breasts. Her body, though trembling, was relaxed now, accepting the whip like a lover’s kiss. He smiled and walked over to the blindfolded girl. He gently traced a finger down over her taut nipples. He knew she sensed it was his touch and not Mario’s. She whimpered and rubbed herself against him like a cat seeking attention. He motioned to Mario to release the chain so that her arms would drop. She was understandably unsteady. He caught her before she could fall, and guided her down to the floor while Mario worked to free her ankles from the irons. She pressed herself against him, wordlessly seeking his approval. Kneeling over her he guided her face towards his groin.

Although hampered by the intense sting in her back and by the limiting and awkward restrictions of the handcuffs, Alex struggled feverishly to free his aching shaft and pull it into her mouth. She needed the comfort of his closeness. She curled onto her side, drawing him deep between her lips, lapping and licking at his phallus in an act of complete submission. Her fingers cradled his balls, her tongue and mouth eager to suck him dry. He shivered and pressed deeper, relishing the heat and the tightness around him. She moaned in appreciation.

He parted her thighs and stroked the soft naked rise of her sex. Without hesitation she opened her legs wider for him, offering herself up for whatever he wanted to take. She was so wet her juices coated his fingers like a fragrant tide. He smiled and sought out the pleasure bud that nestled like a ripe cherry between the lips of her sex. Her moans of delight vibrated through his shaft, taking him to the very edge of oblivion.

He pressed a single finger deep inside her quim, and at once felt her begin to tighten rhythmically around it, her moist heat perfectly echoing the rhythm of her mouth. He had barely touched her, but it had been enough to trigger her orgasm.

‘Yesss...’ he murmured as he surrendered to the call of his own pleasure, and flooded into her eager and gasping mouth.

Under his expert fingers Alex writhed like a wild animal, giving him every part of herself. It seemed that for an instant their minds met, each sensation replayed and echoed in the other. For that moment master and slave were equal and the same - riders on a storm of ecstasy.

When he’d done with her, Peter Tourne gently pushed her away. She licked her lips as if afraid she’d missed a drop of his precious essence, and then curled back into a ball. Across the room Starn Fettico grinned and began to unfasten his trousers. Tourne shook his head.

‘Leave her,’ he murmured. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later.’ He turned to Mario. ‘Take her to one of the cells and leave her chained. This is just the beginning.’

Climbing to his feet, he looked down at the naked English girl, her narrow back crisscrossed with welts, and smiled. It wouldn’t take long though, he thought; Alex Sanderson was a natural submissive, even if she hadn’t previously realised it herself. She would go far, and he would help her on her way.

Mario unfastened the chain from the handcuffs and hefted the girl up into his arms. His face was a mask.

Tourne stared hard at him. ‘Let her rest,’ he said, hoping the man would have sense enough to leave the girl alone when he got her to the cell; she’d already given him exactly what he wanted, and had earned herself a rest. He leaned over her and untied the blindfold. Alex’s eyes were closed, her face totally expressionless.

Alex’s consciousness had retreated into a dark safe corner of her mind, and it took a few minutes to feel she was once again in control. She’d almost felt as if she was watching herself suck Peter Tourne dry. Her body had been working on instinct alone, taking what it craved from the man who would be her master. Now, held tight in Mario’s burly arms, she wondered what would follow.

Ridiculously, she felt somehow safe and secure, as if a great weight had been lifted from her. Slowly reason began to reassert itself as Mario carried her across the room to the door beside the bathroom. It was ajar, and inside Alex could just make out a long corridor from behind her half closed lids. It was gloomy and cold. As the chill hit her naked flesh, Alex struggled to suppress a shiver.

Mario walked slowly, though there wasn’t the slightest suggestion he might drop her. At the end of the corridor was another open door. Alex stiffened as she glanced inside; it was a cell, barely taller than she was, with a platform along one wall. On the platform was a thin mattress and a rough grey blanket. Beside it was a toilet and a shower. Other than that the room seemed totally bare.

Mario rolled her unceremoniously onto the mattress, caught hold of the handcuffs she was still wearing, and clipped them onto a chain that hung from above. It was arranged so that she would be able to move around the cell, would be able to use the toilet and shower, but would not be able to leave this prison. But what disturbed her more than this alarming form of imprisonment was the expression on Mario’s face. He sniffed as he peered down at her, and ran his tongue over his fat lips. He didn’t look at her face. Instead his gaze rested on her nakedness, and he casually ran a hand up over her flank.

‘You like man to beat you,’ he said thickly. ‘It make you wet.’

Alex stared at him, struggling to find her voice. ‘Mr Tourne said you were to leave me alone,’ she said timidly, curling into a tight ball.

Mario snorted. ‘He don’t care, he not come down here. He just say, ‘Mario, fetch the girl. Mario, beat the girl’, but he don’t come down here. Down here there only me to look after you. If you don’t do what I like, then...’ he lifted his hands in an all encompassing gesture. ‘No food, no water, no blanket... no nothing! I make your life very - how you say,’ he struggled over the last word, fighting to find sufficient English. ‘Difficult!’

Alex felt her stomach contract. Left under Mario’s care her life would be hell. She took a deep breath. ‘Mr Tourne will be angry with you,’ she said with a confidence she didn’t feel.

Mario laughed. ‘If you tell him, I make much worse for you. Now, shut up and open legs.’

Alex stayed still. Her jailor’s face contorted into a maniacal grin. ‘I can make very bad for you, now open legs, you English whore!’

Alex knew resistance was useless, and probably very foolish; it would only succeed in angering him further. She slowly parted her knees.

‘Is right,’ hissed her tormentor. ‘You give Mario pleasure now.’ He smiled and spread her legs wider still, driving his fingers deep inside her. She shrieked at his brutality, but his only reaction was to grab hold of her knees and drag her onto her back, scraping the welts across the rough surface of the mattress. He jerked her towards him so that her feet were on the dusty floor, her hips on the edge of the platform, and her tender back on the cold rough concrete. Forcing her legs wider still he stood between them and began to paw at her breasts and quim with one hand, whilst unbuttoning his fly with the other.

Before Alex had time to recover, he plunged his cock home, making her shriek with surprise and fear. He was deaf to her cries and drove on and on, dragging her onto him time and time again. Her back screamed out in agony as it rubbed against the concrete, but nothing she said or cried made any difference. Mario ploughed into her relentlessly, gasping and snorting, and clawing at her nipples until she knew he was close to the point of no return.

Totally disgusted, Alex squeezed her eyes tight to blot out the abhorrent image of his red and contorted features slobbering over her like a madman. She knew he was about to come. At the last second she felt him drag his cock out of her and spurt an arc of semen over her belly. As it splattered onto her skin she felt sick and empty.

Mario wiped his loose mouth with the back of his hand and turned away without a second glance at her.

Alex started to shake, tears coursing down her face. She had to get away from the villa. Whatever Peter Tourne had to offer her it was not worth this. If she stayed she would be at the mercy of any man who wanted her, master or servant, whether it was forbidden or not. The cell door clanged shut and she took a deep breath. Mario’s seed clung to her belly in an unnerving puddle. Slowly, steadying herself at every step, she crossed to the shower, the water was icy cold as it hit her, but Alex didn’t care. All she wanted was to be clean but she doubted whether water alone would be enough.