Authors: Lisette Ashton
‘I passed his inspection, didn’t I?’
Mrs Weiss tapped ash from her cigarette onto the floor. She regarded Justine with an expression of narrow disapproval. Her smile twisted into a nasty leer as she asked, ‘How long are you going to carry on sulking about your girlfriend?’
The comment hurt and Justine raised her gaze to glare at the woman. Determined to play as cool a hand as Mrs Weiss, she asked, ‘What would happen if I told someone you were my employer?’
Mrs Weiss tossed her half-smoked cigarette aside and stood up. Grabbing hold of Justine’s hair she pulled her from the stone seat and forced her to kneel on the floor.
Staring down, fearful of the repercussions she had set in motion, Justine found herself swathed in the ominous darkness of the woman’s shadow. If there had been any way to retract her question she would have babbled it swiftly but she knew it was too late to recant. All she could do was tremble and try to brace herself for the brunt of Mrs Weiss’s wrath.
‘That’s a fucking good question.’ Mrs Weiss’s voice was bereft of humour. Her fingernails gouged at the vicious welts that had been tattooed on Justine’s rear and it was apparent she was putting every effort into soliciting discomfort. The cheeks of Justine’s backside were splayed apart; a palm rasped over the burning flesh of her labia; bony knuckles kneaded the most severe bruises and marks. Struggling to maintain her composure, Justine tolerated the abuse without daring to complain. She repeatedly snatched breaths as she tried to remain immune to the punishment.
‘Quite a few things would happen if you revealed that I am your employer,’ Mrs Weiss conceded. She pushed one finger against the wetness of Justine’s sex. When the easy penetration provoked no response she moved her hand away and then tested the resistance of Justine’s anus.
The temptation to shriek and wrench herself free was almost irresistible. But Justine held still as the manicured nail slipped through the muscle of her sphincter. She tried to relax as Mrs Weiss forced the penetration deeper but nerves and apprehension made her rigid. So many things had entered her rear over the past few days that Justine was surprised the muscle continued to put up any show of defiance. At Sartine’s party she knew she had been repeatedly used by a dozen or more men, all blessed with erections that had much wider girths than Mrs Weiss’s finger. But there was something shameful about the way the woman made the penetration – especially as it was clearly the precursor to a greater punishment – and it caused this entry to seem perverted and wrong.
‘If you tell anyone I’m your employer you’ll never see another page of
La Coste
,’ Mrs Weiss promised.
Justine didn’t want to let the woman know that the threat unnerved her. After all she had been through, after all she had endured in her attempt to acquire the legendary manuscript, the prospect of losing that opportunity caused a genuine pain. Those few lines that the penitent had read for her were enough to whet Justine’s appetite for much more and she knew her curiosity wouldn’t be sated until she knew the contents of every page.
She chugged breath as a second finger slipped alongside the first.
Her sphincter felt full and awkwardly overstretched and the penetration was an obscene joy that she refused to acknowledge. She shrivelled from the sick impulse of taking pleasure from Mrs Weiss’s abuse knowing it was wrong: but a part of her craved to bask in the hateful sensations. Her anus was slippery with arousal. Both digits slid easily into her and the sensation of being full inspired a divine warmth.
Mrs Weiss pushed the fingers deep. When she spoke her tone had become brittle with barely concealed anger. ‘Tell anyone I’m your employer and you’ll lose that bonus I promised you. Your pay rise, promotion, and the cash incentive, will all disappear.’
That much, Justine had expected. She held her breath for a moment longer, trying to concentrate on Mrs Weiss’s words rather than her actions. The woman had begun to ease her fingers slowly in and out and Justine could feel her loins wanting to respond with a spasm of pure delight. After going from extremes of pain and humiliation to the ordeal of being blissfully fingerfucked by her employer she wasn’t surprised that her treacherous body found the ordeal arousing. But she was loath to let Mrs Weiss know she possessed such an effective control.
‘I’ll see that your name is publicly blackened,’ Mrs Weiss continued. ‘I’ll start the gossip and the rumours myself if I have to so that everyone knows what a lascivious little tart you are, and I’ll have Sartine provide me with photographs if necessary just so I can convince the last of the doubters.’
Justine remembered the flashbulbs exploding at Sartine’s party and knew Mrs Weiss could make good on her threat. She remembered being quietly proud of the idea that she was being photographed. For some reason that she could no longer rationalise, she had thought that the prospect of pictures added a lilt of pleasure to the experience she was enjoying then. Now she could only think it had been an act of utter foolishness to let herself get caught on film.
‘But the main thing you should keep in mind,’ Mrs Weiss growled, ‘the point you really should consider before opening your stupid mouth is: you’d earn my displeasure. For every second that I have authority over you – whether it’s here in the donjon, tomorrow at
La Coste
, or back home at the library – I’ll go out of my way to make your life a constant torment of physical pain and sexual humiliation.’
She said other things but Justine’s thoughts focused on one phrase:
tomorrow at La Coste
. The knowledge that she was so close to achieving her goal was enough to let her accept the torment and abuse. The idea gave her such a thrill that, despite her best intentions to appear indifferent, the muscles of her pussy convulsed with a minor shiver.
Mrs Weiss laughed and, with the sound of the woman’s nasty cackle, Justine realised she hadn’t been concentrating on her words. She drew a deep breath and suppressed a moan as her employer slid a third finger alongside the first two. The stretching at her rear had gone from being delightful to unbearable yet a part of her still savoured the twisted pleasure of being used in such a cruel way. Chugging breath in staggered gasps, Justine tensed her inner muscles for fear they would inadvertently convulse and show Mrs Weiss how much she was really enjoying the humiliation.
‘Have you dismissed the idea of exposing me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Am I assured of your loyalty and obedience?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to prove your loyalty now?’
Each time Mrs Weiss asked a question she pushed all three fingers deeper. Justine struggled not to cry out but the stretching was so immense she couldn’t contain every impulse to protest. Shivering from the embarrassment, and mortified by her own black enjoyment of the punishment, she gritted her teeth around an exclamation. ‘Yes,’ she whimpered. ‘Yes. Whatever you want. Whatever it takes for us to get
La Coste
. I’ll do it.’
The fingers were torn from her rear. Justine was left to feel empty and hollow as her inner muscles continued to tingle with the aftermath of a frustrated arousal. Hearing Mrs Weiss’s footsteps, and understanding the woman was now standing in front of her, she slowly raised her tear-stained gaze. ‘Whatever it takes,’ she promised.
Mrs Weiss pulled her robe open. Justine was not surprised to see the woman was naked beneath. She had a lean and slender body that was painfully exciting to look at. Her breasts were ample and inviting, tipped with magenta areolae and thick stiff nipples. With a narrow waist and flat stomach she held herself in a pose that emphasised her silent authority. Lowering her gaze, Justine could see a forest of lush dark curls concealed the woman’s cleft. Because her face was on eye-level with Mrs Weiss’s pussy, Justine could also see that wetness had darkened the hairs at the centre of her sex. The pink flesh of Mrs Weiss’s labia glistened invitingly.
‘Prove your loyalty,’ Mrs Weiss demanded. ‘Prove your loyalty by eating my pussy.’
Justine didn’t hesitate. She wasn’t sure how close she had come to unfailing obedience but she no longer showed any vacillation when she was given a command. Moving her face forward, extending her tongue to the musky haven of Mrs Weiss’s sex, she eagerly lapped the dewy folds of the woman’s sex.
The syrupy flavour was cloying and brought tears to her eyes. As well as making her think of the intimacies she had enjoyed with the penitent, it also served to remind her that the pliant blonde was no longer in her life. Sniffing back the notion of crying, concentrating on sliding her tongue against the wet folds of flesh, she heard the woman above her sigh contentedly. The sound encouraged Justine to lap at the woman’s clitoris and try to tease her tongue deep into the velvety folds of her hole. Her posture was awkward; the stone floor was harsh against her knees; the position meant her backside was stretched and reminded her of every lingering ache; and her neck was uncomfortable as she strained to lap at Mrs Weiss’s sex. But Justine couldn’t deny that the humiliation aroused her.
Her chin was quickly daubed with a lather of the woman’s musk. Burying her nose against the labia as she caught her breath, Justine was delighted to hear Mrs Weiss groan with obvious pleasure. She sensed a wave of joy flowing through the woman and then returned her tongue quickly to its chore.
The hand at her hair gripped tighter. Her face was tugged into the woman’s cleft as Mrs Weiss thrust her pelvis forward. Guessing that she had to penetrate, not sure why the idea filled her with such a rush of dark need, Justine delivered a long deep kiss to the woman’s sex. She pushed her lips close against the inner labia and thrust her tongue into the tight warmth of Mrs Weiss’s hole.
The muscle convulsed around her.
As Justine continued to make her kiss as deep as possible, Mrs Weiss pulled harder on her hair and grunted her way through a bitter climax. Her pelvis bucked repeatedly forward, bashing against Justine’s face and her groin exploded with a rush of wetness. Justine almost choked on the unexpected flow and made a concerted effort to pull herself free. Miserably, as Mrs Weiss continued to hold her head against her sex, Justine realised there would be no opportunity to escape until her employer decided. She was forced to remain on her knees, still lapping at the dewy labia, until the woman grunted and pushed her head away.
‘You were struggling against me,’ Mrs Weiss complained.
Justine wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and apologised. From the corner of her eye she noticed Mrs Weiss fasten her robe and then stagger to retrieve her flail from the stone seat. She cringed when she saw the merciless smile that filled Mrs Weiss’s face as she clutched the small whip.
‘You were struggling against me,’ Mrs Weiss repeated. ‘And that is unforgivable.’
Justine lowered her head and mumbled an apology. A knot of frustration lingered in her loins but she knew it would not be sated until the prospect either entertained Mrs Weiss or served her purpose. She was appalled to acknowledge the fact that the fury of the woman above her added to her excitement. It came as no surprise when the knotted tips of the flail struck her backside.
Unable to stop herself, Justine sobbed in protest. ‘Do you have to go so hard on me?’ she moaned. ‘I’m doing this for you. Can’t you show me a little leniency?’
The six harsh blows that followed seemed to answer her question. They landed in swift succession and scorched a searing heat through the punished flesh of Justine’s buttocks. She realised Mrs Weiss wasn’t taking the time deliberately to mark the flesh that was already striped but that didn’t stop some of the lashes from kissing sharply against the raised weals. By the time the last shot had landed Justine realised she had squeezed tears from the corners of her eyes.
‘I have you for the remainder of the day,’ Mrs Weiss growled. ‘And I have no intention of showing you any leniency.’
Justine said nothing.
Mr Weiss chuckled. ‘Admittedly I’m going to give you my approval. But I’m going to make sure you earn it too.’ She fell silent for a moment and it wasn’t until Justine heard the sound of a lighter sparking a flame that she realised the woman was having another cigarette. The noxious scent of tobacco fumes filled the donjon and reminded Justine that she could still taste the flavour of Mrs Weiss’s sex in her mouth and nostrils.
‘I’m being harsh with you for two reasons,’ Mrs Weiss explained. ‘The first is because I don’t know how my assistant might report these matters to Marais.’ The tobacco smoke thickened her words. ‘My second reason is more important though because that’s the one that’s really driving me to hurt you.’
Justine raised her gaze to study the woman.
‘I want to get the full benefits of seeing you suffer underneath me.’
‘You’re a cruel bitch,’ Justine mumbled.
The flail struck hard against her rear.
Justine howled.
‘You don’t have any idea how cruel I can be,’ Mrs Weiss sneered. Her nasty laughter trailed off as she slashed three more blows from the whip across Justine’s bare backside. ‘You haven’t got a clue about how cruel I can be. But, before the day is over, I’m going to make sure you have a better idea.’
They both glanced up when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
‘That’s my assistant coming back,’ Mrs Weiss growled. She pushed her face close to Justine’s, lowered her voice to a whisper and said, ‘When he gets here, I’m going to give you some more rough treatment. If it gets to be more than you can stand:
tell me you want more
.’
‘That makes sense,’ Justine grunted.
Even as she was saying the words, Justine knew it was a mistake. Mrs Weiss’s hand slapped against her cheek and delivered a stinging blow that almost pushed her to the floor. Stunned by the viciousness, Justine glared at her.
‘Don’t backchat,’ Mrs Weiss hissed absently. ‘And think sensibly for once in your fucking life: it makes perfect sense.’
Justine continued to glare. Because the woman was now standing and draped in her robe, while she remained naked and cowering at her feet, the feeling of vulnerability was stronger than ever. Justine supposed it was that sensation that made her lower her gaze as though the argument was already lost. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from mumbling a servile apology.