My eyes were smarting with unshed tears as I let myself into Charles Mason's study to begin my sad task as his executor. Charles and I had been close friends for many years, and I had been hard hit by his untimely death at the hands of some damned, bloody, drunken, teen-age punk in a souped-up jalopy.
I had known, of course, that I was his executor; but somehow, when one accepts that commitment, one never expects to have to do anything about it-wishful thinking, I suppose. So the shock of hearing of his death was further heightened when the next morning's mail brought a special delivery letter from his lawyers, forwarding a sealed en-velope addressed to me in poor old Charles' handwriting, which proved to contain his private instructions to me, in my capacity as his executor.
Most of his wishes were straightforward, and could be settled easily enough with his lawyers; but there were one or two things that demanded my urgent personal attention -and that was why I was in his study now, still wearing the black tie I had donned for his funeral earlier that afternoon.
"Do what you think fit about the Chateau Oirad file, Paul," Charles had written. "I wouldn't want anyone to be embarrassed by the thing falling into the wrong hands."
I had no idea he'd kept a Chateau Oirad file, but the minute I read the words I knew exactly what I'd find in it-the sketches and letters I had sent him in 1958, when I was Quentin Van Dine's houseguest at Chateau Oirad. I knew, too, that a lot of close friends would be more than embarrassed-as Charles had realized-if the contents of that file were made public. Certainly Prince Dorbon Oirad and his family for a start, plus the other two families in the consortium, the Van Dines and the de Madariagas, and above all my own wife Georgy. Old Meredith, her father, had retired from the chairmanship of Meredith Steel the year before, but he still carried a lot of clout as majority shareholder, and I knew that I would not retain my seat on the board one single day after he discovered that his daughter's "Grand Tour of Europe" had been spent mainly in the underground Playrooms of Chateau Oirad as a sex-slave to the Masters and their guests, of whom I had been one-nor would he ever have forgiven Georgy herself.
"Thank you, Charles, old friend!" I said silently. "That was thoughtful of you." Suddenly, happy memories of the fabulous Chateau Oirad came flooding into my mind. I found myself feeling very glad that I had managed to wangle an invitation for old Charles to join us when we went back the next year, 1959, and very amused when I recalled how happy he had been, shagging himself stupid with the Oirad Playmates all through that wonderful summer, so that he had to spend a couple of weeks in a nursing-home, recuperating. Then, suddenly, I was very sad when I remembered that Charles was gone, and that I would never see him on this earth again.
Charles' letter had told me exactly where to find the Oirad file. I felt my pulse quicken with anticipation as I undid the tapes and drew out the contents-a limp morocco loose-leaf binder in which he had filed my letters, and a stout cardboard portfolio with "Paul's Sketches-Chateau Oirad, 1958" written on the cover. I put the letters to one side for the moment; and cleared a space in which to open the portfolio of sketches.
I have a facile talent with pencil and water colors-but not, curiously enough, with oils; I draw well enough to be rated "top second-class" by experts who really know their stuff-but I can't paint worth a damn! Even though I say it myself, the sixteen "eyewitness" aquatints from the Playrooms of Chateau Oirad were quite beautifully done- though the subject matter was definitely not the sort of thing one would want one's maiden aunt to see!
The sketches were in no particular order. Charles had turned the top one face down, presumably to preserve it from being rubbed by the cover of the portfolio, and I saw that he had penciled on the back, "Letter VI-15 June". I turned the drawing over....
Jenny O'Rourke was screaming at me from the surface of the paper, her raven-haired head thrown back and her dark-blue eyes wide with pain. Isabella de Madariaga was whipping her scientifically across the naked breasts; but there was nothing the unfortunate Playmate could do to alleviate her agony-she was stretched in a taut widespread X of naked flesh between floor and ceiling, with all possibility of movement denied to her, her arms held high and wide above her head by cords around her wrists, her ankles shackled to ring-bolts set far apart in the floor.
I remembered the evening well enough, even after the passage of more than twelve years. . . . My prick grew stiff within my trousers as I sat at Charles' desk, so that I shifted uneasily in my chair.
I had felt it quite an honor when Donna Isabella invited me to share a session with her; but I had hardly anticipated that the evening would turn out to be so satisfyingly lustful! The brilliantly-colored parrot's feather in my sketch reminded me that I had started off by tickling the helpless Playmate very thoroughly in her open, defenseless crotch till she had exploded into an orgasm of shattering intensity; and while she came, Isabella had whipped her cruelly across the naked ass with the cane which, in my sketch, now lay discarded between Jenny's widely-parted legs. Then Isabella had led me to the couch, and I had fucked her vigorously, to our great mutual pleasure.
Then we had gone back to the hapless Jenny; and Isabella had used a thin, whippy switch on her breasts till she almost went out of her mind with pain. This was the scene depicted in my drawing.
I couldn't quite remember what had happened next. Had we made her suck us off, one after the other? Or had I fucked her? . .. No, it wouldn't come back to me.... But I was in no doubt as to how the evening had ended; we had strapped the unfortunate Jenny out onto a bench in a "deep-kneel" position, and I had whipped her with a little scourge, up and down her open cunt till she had fainted. Finally Donna Isabella and I had pleasured each other with a memorable sixty-nine. Yes, that had been a splendid session! I sighed happily at the memory, and picked up another of my sketches.
This showed Ginghis Oirad, Dorbon's son, dealing faithfully with a dark-haired girl suspended in a sort of whipping-frame. Her wrists were bound together above her head, with a short length of cord going up to the crossbar of the frame; her feet were resting on two heavy pedestals about a yard apart, with loose chains running from her ankle-cuffs to the pedestals themselves. The sketch showed very clearly that if she slipped off the pedestals, she would hang by her wrists until her feet could regain their footing-and she was quite likely to slip off, it seemed, for Ginghis was whipping her painfully across the ass with a thin, stinging carriage-whip, and she had thrust her pelvis forward in her efforts to escape the lash. It looked as though she were about to lose her balance.
I couldn't place the girl for a moment; her head was flung back over her shoulder in a frantic plea for mercy- but Ginghis' rigid prick, standing flat against his belly with the head level with his navel, showed very clearly that mercy was not on the menu that particular evening! Then I remembered her-Lady Diana Manners, the English aristocrat! Like my wife Georgy, she had been a Visiting Playmate only, and she was no longer at Chateau Oirad when we returned in 1959. I couldn't remember what the little peccadillo had been that was used against her as a lever to force he* into the Playrooms; Georgy's had been a most ill-advised experiment with drugs in a particularly decadent set in Rome; and the "lever" in her case was her fear of Old Man Meredith's finding out. But I could remember very well how Ginghis and I had sandwiched Diana between us that evening, and how the slim, well-whipped body had shuddered as we shot our spunk simultaneously into cunt and asshole.
Also shown in my sketch were the Little Princesses, Ginghis' half-sisters; they were supposed to be "under instruction" that evening, but I seemed to recall that they were pretty expert already-as might have been expected of Renee Oirad's daughters! I had drawn them frigging each other nicely on the clitorises as they watched Ginghis flogging the naked Playmate. I remembered that later on I had fucked them, one after the other; then Ginghis and I had reversed Diana in the whipping-frame, hanging her up by her ankles, and the Little Princesses had tortured her turn and turn about, one nettle-birching her up and down the insides of her parted thighs, while the other pressed her fresh young cunt against the Playmate's shouting mouth and made Diana suck her off. I smiled affectionately at the naked thirteen-year-old twins in my sketch; today, twelve years later, they are international beauties-and I am proud to be numbered among their friends.
I thumbed through the remaining drawings till I found the one I had done of Georgy. Then I sat stiff-pricked for a while, feasting my eyes on the naked blonde beauty of the girl who was later to become my wife. I think I must have known even then that my interest in her was more than a passing fancy; for I could see that I had gone to some pains to hide her face, as though I wanted to protect her from the inquisitive stare of strangers-partly by the angle I had chosen to draw her from, and partly by the gag across her mouth. I usually left the gag out of my sketches, even if it had in fact been used; I found that if one had the girl's whole face to work with, it was much easier to depict a nice exciting degree of pain.
But her face was about the only thing I had hidden! Quent had had the Mongols tie her out kneeling on the floor, with her legs wide apart; then she had been bent backwards over a little steel bar affair placed under the small of her back to take her weight and keep her body nicely arched upwards till her head was resting on the floor. Then her arms had been tied firmly along her legs, with her wrists at her knees and her elbows at her ankles. My drawing was three-quarters front; and Georgy's blonde-bushed cunt was in full view, monstrously distended by a huge black dildo affixed to a heavy stand between her parted thighs. Quentin had a hard-on like a baseball bat; he was whipping her methodically across the tits with a supple leather thong. ... My sketch had captured the impression of movement rather successfully, and one could almost see her squirming in her bonds-and, of course, driving herself to orgasm on the dildo. I recalled that I had helped the process along with a slim little birch-rod used on the insides of her thighs.
At this stage I recalled, too, that it had been a long time since I had put my wife in bondage. Georgy is only thirty-five, and I still find her utterly exciting. ... I determined to repair the omission at the earliest possible opportunity-that very evening when I got back to Pittsburgh!
Later on, Quent and I had made her do a routine that Ginghis had suggested to us. We knelt down, facing each other, as close as we could get; then we leaned backwards, supporting ourselves by pulling against each other's outstretched hands. In this position, our two pricks stood vertically, side by side; and there was just enough room between our bodies for Georgy to get her head down and suck the pair of us off simultaneously-a performance which, I remembered, we had found somewhat more exciting than she had, for she had almost choked herself on the double flood of spunk spurting into her uncomfortably-distended mouth.
Ah me, what memories my pretty little aquatints were evoking! I put aside the portfolio with a sigh of happy nostalgia, and stretched my hand out for the loose-leaf binder in which Charles had kept my letters.
LETTER NO. I
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
4 June 58
My dear Charles,
When I told you I was going to spend the summer as Quentin Van Dine's houseguest, I had absolutely no idea of how fabulous it was going to be! This place is like something out of the Arabian Nights.... I just don't know how to start describing it to you; but let's try anyway. ...
Quentin met me this morning in Athens, still the same old Quent we used to know 'way back when, a bit older, of course, and a bit heavier-but looking very fit and prosperous: the Van Dine Hardware millions obviously haven't shrunk in the past five years!
The first surprise was when he produced his bride-a very good-looking dish, brunette, twentyish, with a lovely Deep South accent. "Marcia, darling, this is Paul," says Quentin, and she comes right over with a great big smile and kisses me full on the lips. "Paul, honey! Nice to have you aboard."
I didn't even know he was married, did you? But it turns out they met in Switzerland about eighteen months ago, fell in love at first sight, and got themselves spliced very quietly in Berne a month later. Marcia Kempenfeldt she used to be, and with that accent, I suspect she's one of the New Orleans Kempenfeldt Shipping family, i.e., probably a millionairess in her own right. Anyway, she's a real sweetheart-easy, friendly, and definitely a. fun person.
Quentin gave us a slap-up lunch at the Grande Bretagne, and told me a bit about the setup. At that stage, all I gathered was that he and Marcia had joined forces with a couple of other well-heeled families, and were living a sort of communal life on a private island somewhere in the Aegean, southwest of Athens.
"We all get on very well together," he said. "Seem t enjoy the same sort of things, and so on!" I wondered why Marcia got the giggles at this point, but all will be made clear in due course, Charles, my boy!
Well, after lunch we pushed off to Piraeus, in a huge Rolls driven by some Oriental character in livery. We finished up at a private slipway, where we were ferried out by launch to a bloody great seaplane! There was another Oriental type driving the launch, and I heard Quentin yakking away to him in French: I caught the name "Prince Dorbon" a couple of times. There were more Orientals in evidence on the seaplane-which, I must say, was one of the most luxurious affairs imaginable-and while they were stowing my baggage, the pilot (yet another Oriental) came back into the cabin and started talking to Quent and again I caught the name "Prince Dorbon".
We took off, and I asked Quentin to fill me in. Now we get into the Arabian Nights bit, Charles; but at least this part of it's possible! Later on, you just aren't going to believe your own ears-but it's all true and, oh boy, am I glad I'm here!
It seems that the big noise on the island is one Prince Dorbon Oirad. He's a Mongolian (hence all the Oriental retinue) and fabulously wealthy-right up there with Paul Getty and the Nizam of Hyderabad. He used to be known as "The Last Hope of The Mongols", and is apparently the perfectly valid and legitimate heir to the Mongolian Empire. That's been a pretty empty title for a couple of hundred years, of course; and Quentin said that Dorbon decided to up sticks in 1936-when he was twenty-six-and pull out. The Japanese were pushing into Mongolia at that time (I don't suppose you remember your Far East history of the Thirties any better than I do!) and he was fairly certain they were planning to rub him out, as the traditional rallying point for Mongol resistance. So he took off, with his five-year-old son-his first wife had died in childbirth- and all the family treasure.
Dorbon swanned round the world for a couple of years (I'm just giving you the highlights of Quentin's briefing; the full story goes on for hours!) and found himself in the States when the war broke out in 1939. He decided to stay there for the duration: and in 1942 he married Renee de La Rochecombauld, the daughter of a very wealthy and aristocratic Paris family, whose parents had gotten her out of France just before the Germans arrived. (She's thirty-eight now; and she must have been an absolute beauty at twenty-two, when Dorbon married her). So she's "Princess Oirad"- known to the staff as "The Princess". They had twin daughters in 1945-Jeanne and Marie, who are now thirteen; they're known as "The Little Princesses". Just to make it complicated, Charles, there's still another Princess on the strength! This is Dorbon's daughter-in-law Estelle- "Princess Ginghis Oirad" (or "The Young Princess" to the staff). Dorbon's son Ginghis-who isn't here at the moment, so I can't describe him to you-married her in 1955. She's about twenty-four now, and a real wild one! Very good-looking, blonde, English: and when I met her I immediately said to myself, "Nouveau riche! . . . But very riche." How right I was! She turns out to have been Estelle Jackson from London; and when I tell you that the Jackson Brothers are the real secret overlords of London's vice, you may begin to get the first glimmering of what sort of a place Chateau Oirad really is!
But I'm running ahead of myself-we're still in that seaplane. ... So far, Quentin's given me: Prince Dorbon and his wife Renee; his son Ginghis, married to Estelle; and the two Little Princesses. That finishes the Oirads.
Next come the de Madariagas (who are away till next week), Don Carlos and Donna Isabella-Spanish, obviously! And stinking rich, according to Quentin. In fact, I seem to be the only non-millionaire in the place! Don Carlos was in the Spanish Diplomatic, it seems, and met Prince Dorbon just before the war when he was visiting the Argentine, where Don Carlos was in post. He's about six years younger than Dorbon, which would make him forty-two, and his wife's thirty-six, just a couple of years younger than Renee. Quent says they treat each other like brothers and sisters.
Apparently Don Carlos had a flaming row with Franco just after the war and got booted out of Spain; and a couple of years later, he and Dorbon decided they'd join forces. So they bought this island, built themselves a lush chateau, and settled down to enjoy a luxurious retirement.
"So how did you get into the act?" I asked Quentin.
"I first met Don Carlos on safari in Rhodesia in 1953," he said. "He invited me here as a guest the following summer; and I suppose I must have fitted in, because I got asked again the next year. Then when I married Marcia in 1956, we came here for the last part of our honeymoon; and last year Dorbon and Carlos asked us to join up-so we did."
Mark you, Charles, at this stage nobody had given me any reason why the three families should be content to retire to some unreachable island off the coast of Greece. Quentin was the only one I'd met who I had even heard of before. Naturally, I knew a fair amount about him-as of course you do too. He was a pretty wild long-cocked character when we were running around together, wasn't he? (Do you remember that exhibition we watched in Buenos Aires-the little blonde being gang-banged by six buck Negroes? And how old Quent insisted on having the wretched girl for the night, and kept on slapping fifty-dollar bills down till that old bag of a madam shrugged her shoulders and just pointed her finger upstairs? I recall thinking it a wee bit cruel of Quentin to make such a big thing about it, even though she was a very beddable wench; after all, she'd just been fucked ten times, buggered five, and made to suck three big black pricks off so-quite apart from being tired-she must have been pretty sore! No wonder there was such a chorus of shrieks and screams when Quentin got to work on her!)
But all this was before his marriage, of course; and with Marcia sitting there in the cabin with us, I just wasn't thinking along those lines at that particular moment. I merely felt there was probably more to the setup than I'd been told-but I wasn't particularly interested.
I suppose we'd been flying for about forty minutes by now, when suddenly Marcia said, "Look, Paul, there it is!" I took a gander out of the porthole, and there it was indeed -a fairish-sized island, rather bigger than I'd imagined; and we were heading for a small harbor affair with a bloody great yacht tied up at a slip. I could see a decent metalled road leading away up a wooden hill; and then, as we altered course, Chateau Oirad came into view! ...
Charles, it's a palace! A vast three-storied affair, with beautiful lawns and a great big outdoor pool; and with the afternoon sun on it, it looked simply lovely. I don't know who designed it, but from the air, it was just perfect in its surroundings-about two and a half million dollars' worth of exquisite taste, and absolutely right!
So, we landed; Mongol servants everywhere-very quick, very efficient-and away we went up to the Chateau, in a brand-new Rolls shooting-brake. The island's only about two miles by one, Charles, and one would have thought a Jeep would do! But "nothing but the best" is the motto here-and what a best it is, too!
I'm not going to tell you "The Secret of Chateau Oirad" today. First of all, there wouldn't be time-I'm writing this just before dinner, and I have to catch the mail; the seaplane does a regular run to Athens every evening, if you please! Secondly, nothing's actually happened yet, though, boy! it's sure going to, and this very evening, too! But I'll tell you a bit about the house, and get you up to the somewhat odd tea party.
Charles, this place is lush beyond description! Lovely antiques and priceless Persian carpets everywhere, and a huge staff of perfectly-trained servants. The ground-floor layout's pretty normal-reception rooms, dining-room, kitchen and so on, and a billiard-room; but Quent says there's a gymnasium and a cinema at the back-which are two features you won't find in just anyone's private house! The second floor is given over to the three families-the Van Dines (where I am) in the right wing, and the de Madariagas in the left, with the Oirads in the much larger center portion. Our wing-which has its own private elevator (there's one for each family, natch!)-has a master suite for Quentin and Marcia of bedroom, sitting-room, study, and bathroom: and a guest suite for me consisting of bedroom, study, and bathroom-all the absolute height of luxury, I need hardly say.
I had a quick wash, then Quent and Marcia took me downstairs to meet Princess Oirad for afternoon tea. I find her absolutely charming: very handsome, very easy to get along with. Somewhat to my surprise, she greeted me as Marcia had done, with a warm kiss on the lips. (This turns out to be a Chateau Oirad custom. Nice!) Then she said, "Welcome to Chateau Oirad, Paul! That's what I shall call you, and let's have no stupid formalities; my name is Renee, please! Dorbon has asked me to apologize for his absence-he won't be with us till dinner. My stepson Ginghis is away, but here's Estelle...."
I turned to greet a stunning blonde, clad in the briefest of tennis outfits, with smooth golden skin very much in evidence. She gave me the kiss-on-the-lips bit, and a cheery "Hi, Paul!" (She really is a smasher, Charles; if she blew in my ear, I'd follow her anywhere!)
Finally, Renee turned towards a third woman, whom I had scarcely noticed, and said, "And this is the Lady Diana Manners!" As I moved to greet her, my mind registered just the faintest shade of difference in Princess Oirad's voice, as she made this last introduction.
Well, was I ever right! Instead of giving me a kiss on the lips as the others had done, this good-looking, dark-eyed bint looks at me somewhat oddly-almost with distaste, I felt-then suddenly bows her head to me, and says in a flat, neutral voice, "Master Paul." Now I'm not that old-looking, agreed; but I'm not that young-looking, either; and she herself can't be more than twenty-five or so, in a thin, racy, English-aristocracy sort of way. So naturally, I was a bit puzzled by the odd greeting; but I wrote it off as the latest London society slang, or something like that; and then Renee started dishing out the tea, and the moment passed.
But I was still intrigued; so a few minutes later I went over and said something like, "Have you been long on the island, Lady Diana?" She blushed, and dropped her eyes; then said in a low voice, "Please call me Diana, Master Paul."
Then Renee came over. "I'm glad to see you two getting acquainted," she said. "I shall be keeping Diana busy for next day or so."-And here, Charles, I swear I saw the English girl bite her lip and look almost desperately scared for a second; though I had no idea why, at that time. "But later on during your stay I shall see that you get to know her well." A simple enough piece of hostess' politeness, one would have thought?
But Diana looked at me for a moment like a rabbit looking at a snake; then she pulled herself together and said with an attempt at a smile, "That'll be delightful, Master Paul. I'm looking forward to it!" Odd, yes? And I must say I went through the rest of the tea session thinking she must be some kind of a nut.
Then Renee said to Marcia, "Why don't you show Paul around the grounds? Take them along, Quentin!" So off we all trooped, through the French doors and onto the patio.
And there, old Charles, I'm going to leave you, in slightly cock-teasing fashion! More tomorrow, you betcha!
As ever, Paul
LETTER NO. II
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
5 June 58
My dear Charles,
This is your favorite correspondent speaking, straight from the Arabian Nights, and so shagged I can hardly hold my pen in my hand! This place is even wilder than it looked to be when I was writing you yesterday evening!
We'd got as far as the patio, right? After the tea party with the kooky Lady Diana? (More of her anon!)
Right in front of us was the swimming pool, about forty yards from the Chateau. And there, my dear Charles, were some eight to ten of the most luscious-looking goodies I've ever set eyes on! Tall-short-blonde-brunette-redhead- you name it, there it all was, clad in the briefest of bikinis, and looking very good! We went over and for God's sake! they all froze to attention, just as the Manners girl had done inside.
Then Quentin called out "Jackie!" and a well-stacked brunette number came over towards us. I was startled to see what a very close resemblance there was between her and Marcia. I threw a quick glance at Marcia-I suppose I thought she'd be looking jealous, or something but, to my surprise, she had an odd little smile on her face; and as I watched, she opened her mouth and ran the tip of her tongue across her upper lip-just like a kid being handed a lollipop. Then Quent said, "This is Jackie Maitland, Paul. She's going to make a fourseome with us this evening."
The brunette gave me a quick bow, and mumbled, "Master Paul." Then she turned to Marcia and said in a pleading tone, "Oh, Mistress Marcia, please! Master Quentin'll be the death of me one of these days!" There was no mistaking her South African accent, but I didn't understand the note of terrified resignation that I was sure I had detected.
Quentin didn't seem to mind in the least; in fact, he simply laughed at her. "Not yet, Jackie, not yet!" he said. "And I promise you we'll make parts of the evening quite enjoyable for you, won't we, darling?" this last to Marcia.
"Oh yes, indeedy!" she answered, and I could have sworn she was in some way gloating over the other girl. I noticed the red tongue-tip slide rapidly over her lips again.
"Run along, then," said Quentin and, to my astonishment, he put his hand out and gave an affectionate little pinch to one of the nipples of the big firm breasts barely hidden by the thin material of the skimpy bikini-top. Jackie bit her lip, but showed no open resentment; then she bowed her head to us, turned about, and walked rather disconsolately back to her companions at the pool.
As we moved off, Marcia said to me, quite conversationally, "So how do you like our Playmates, Paul?" I looked at her, puzzled, till she laughed and said, "Yes, Playmates, with a capital P! We . .. er..." (Here she made a delicious little moue at me) "play with them!" Then one beautiful eye closed in a wink, and suddenly I caught on! I swear, Charles, that till that moment I hadn't realized the truth. Now it all fitted in-the "Master" and "Mistress" bit, the bowed heads, the half-concealed fear! This is a sadist-slave-farm, Charles, old dear!! (And it really is-even more than I thought at that particular moment: do I have things to tell you!) There's them and us, and Them are as lovely a lot of wenches as one could hope to find even in one's dreams; and I'm part of Us for the next couple of months! And we're all mewed up in the greatest of luxury, on an island miles from anywhere, owned by a Mad Mongol Multi-Millionaire! What a marvelous setup! Don't you wish you were here? (Don't worry, I've started reminding Quent about "good old Charles"; and I'll do my best to get you an invite.)
Well, obviously I had to act willing, so I looked Marcia in the eye and asked, "And how .. . er... hard do we play with them?" and I returned her wink.
Quentin butted in, "Hard as you like, dear boy! See for yourself tonight; the three of us'll give Jackie a good workout, yes?"
Here, Marcia interposed, "Not too hard, Quent! You know Dorbon gets peeved when a Playmate has to spend more than one night in the infirmary!" Then she turned to me, "Quent gets a bit steamed up over Jackie, because she looks so like me. He says it's like having two wives-one for love, and one for lust. And, boy, do you get lustful at times!" Here, she goosed him... playfully from behind, so that he jumped in surprise.
He shook his finger at her in mock admonition, and growled, "Sexy bitch!" with an affectionate grin.
"But how do you manage to get them here?" I asked Quentin. "After all, not every girl's willing to put up with the hard stuff...."
"Willing doesn't come into it, Paul," he answered. "Once they're here, they do as they're told. As to getting them here, they come in a variety of ways. Some of them are, quite simply, bought. It costs us, on average, about six to eight thousand to get a Playmate onto the island; and quite often, if you come up with the right amount of hard cash at the right time, a girl will walk in with her eyes open-or so she thinks! Others have to be brought; that's mainly Ginghis' department. How often do you read in the press that 'Miss Joan Smith, a pretty blonde aged 18, has mysteriously vanished from her home' in Liverpool, or Montreal, or Des Moines, Iowa? For all you know, Paul, Ginghis and his boys may have been responsible. Well, those two categories form our Resident Playmates; they stay here till we're tired of them, and then they go to a friend of Dorbon's over in Saudi Arabia. We like to keep between twelve and fifteen on strength; last week, we only had eleven: then a couple of days ago, Ginghis brought in a Swedish girl tourist he nabbed in Tunis-that makes twelve; and just now he's over in Sicily, dickering with a Sicilian girl on a cash basis.
"Then we usually have two or three Visiting Playmates; these are girls who are too important just to 'disappear'. They've got to be put back into circulation sooner or later; and of course they've got not to talk-which means that we've got some sort of hold over them; that's why we call them caught! The Manners girl's a typical example; she killed a couple of kids in the South of France three months ago-drunken driving, didn't stop; the French police are still trying to trace the driver. Unfortunately for her, Don Carlos got hold of the evidence; and when he gave her a choice-a year at Chateau Oirad, or at least a couple of years in a French jail-she chose private penance in our Playrooms rather than public disgrace.
"Georgina Meredith's another-she's the daughter of Meredith Steel, back in the States. Old John Meredith's pretty down on drugs and gambling and such; so when Georgy got herself into a real sticky mess in Rome, and Dorbon had it hushed up, we didn't have to lean on her very hard. 'A year in the Playrooms, or we tell Papa and you're cut out of his will for good, my girl!'
"I'd say the Visiting Playmates get the hardest time of it; somehow, we all seem to get a kick out of mortifying the flesh of our own class! But whether they're Bought, Brought, or Caught, once they're here they all get Taught!" And he gave a great shout of laughter at his own witticism.
"No matter how hard the schooling, eh?" I asked.
"Exactly," he replied, "though we try to see that they don't get permanently damaged. You'll get the hang of it tonight, when we give Jackie a working-over. God! She's a lovely fuck when she's been well whipped!"
"She looks a lovely fuck in any case," I laughed. "Which category is she in?"
Marcia answered me, "She was Brought-and I thought it was rather a nice gesture on Ginghis' part! He ran across her in South Africa, and was quite struck by her resemblance to me. So he went to a considerable amount of trouble to nobble her, as a sort of unbirthday present for Quent. She disappeared from an early morning bath one day; the Coroner brought it in 'Death by Drowning', and everyone thinks she was eaten by sharks."
Well, Charles, as you can imagine, I was absolutely in the seventh heaven over all this! Quent and Marcia made it all seem so natural-"We're going to torture a good-looking girl after dinner, will you join us?' You can bet your boots I was looking forward to the evening's entertainment!
We had been wandering about the grounds as we talked, and now Quentin looked at his watch and said it was time to be getting back. Our path took us past a row of greenhouses. Quentin pointed to them, "Know what's in there? Stinging nettles! Gives us a constant round-the-year crop. We have to grow 'em under cover; they simply don't thrive outside in this constant sun. I've laid on half a dozen bunches for this evening, of course. Now come and have a look at the Playrooms!"
Charles, never in my wildest dreams have I imagined anything so perfect as the Chateau Oirad Playrooms! This huge palace is literally built on stilts; there's a whole floor below ground, completely given over to the "fun-and-games" department. There's a good eight or ten of these soundproofed Playrooms-I'll tell you more about them in a minute. There are showers, and toilets, and an infirmary yet, with half a dozen beds and a nurse! Three passenger elevators-one from each of the family quarters; and a big goods elevator going straight up to the third floor, where the Playmates' quarters are. I won't actually get to see that floor-but does it really matter?-what counts is the basement exit from the goods elevator, with a couple of bloody great Mongol attendants manhandling one's chosen goodie out and into one of the Playrooms! Quent says it's pretty comfortable up there-each girl has a nice little bed-sitter, with a bathroom shared between two. There's a communal lounge, and a dining-room, and a kitchen, so they're pretty well self-contained. There's a "Playroom staff up there too-about half a dozen attendants, and a real old dragon of a Matron, who looks after the girls before and after, and keeps discipline and so on. The general policy seems to be to try and keep the Playmates as happy as possible-except, of course, in the Playrooms, where the object is definitely quite the reverse! They're free to go outside as much as they like, and use the pool and the tennis courts, or go riding-there's a stable with some very good horseflesh in it, Quent says. The only places off limits are the ground and second floors; nobody gets in there, except very occasionally one of the Visiting Playmates-like the Manners girl yesterday afternoon. And then it's likely to be for one of two reasons-either to be teased (as Renee was doing to Diana), or to be produced on show for some visitor (to let it be seen that the girl's alive and well, and having a happy time as a houseguest at lovely Chateau Oirad); in the latter case, they usually stuff the wretched girl's knickers full of nettles, just for kicks-and she knows that if she doesn't act natural, she'll pay for it later on downstairs! You really have to hand it to this crowd, Charles, they don't miss a trick!
I've been digressing, I'm afraid; you'll want at least to hear about the Playrooms before I get this letter off. Bad luck! I'm going to keep the description of our session with Jackie till tomorrow. I haven't had time to finish my sketch of old Quent at work on Jackie's ass; but I promise you it'll be worth waiting for.
Those Play rooms-wow! They've got everything, Charles, including things one had never even thought of! I suppose it merely takes money to fit out every single room with its own bloody great glass-fronted gun-cupboard, stuffed with every conceivable form of whip and birch and cane and scourge: and handcuffs and cords and leather straps galore: and the drawers filled with a fantastic collection of dildoes of all sorts, shapes, and sizes-single dildoes, double dildoes, hand dildoes, buckle-on dildoes, the lot! There's one particularly nice little asshole affair in shiny, knobbly bamboo, which must produce quite a startling effect! Given enough time, and a bunch of carpenters and blacksmiths, it wouldn't be too impossible to reproduce the fantastic furniture they've got-whipping-posts with built-in handcuffs, buggering-blocks, trapezes, ceiling-hooks, rack-type strap-out frames, whipping-benches, and so on.
But some of their devices are out of this world, Charles! They've got an electric "exercise bicycle", for instance. The girl's strapped onto it, so that she's got to pedal it: the wheels run on a cobbly sort of surface, so that it's bumping all the time-and the saddle carries a bloody great dildo! Imagine three times round the block on that one! Then there's a leather vaulting-horse-perfectly normal, except that the top is covered with tiny little steel spikes about an eighth of an inch long; you can either sit on it and meditate quietly while your Master prepares his next little surprise, or you can lie on it on your stomach, with a mechanical double dildo working away in both your holes at once. Cunning, eh? And I saw one whipping-block in the shape of a huge prick-tip-very artistic, that was: you put your Playmate's stomach onto it, and then tie her knees and elbows together, so that she's all doubled up on top of it, and wide open too. I also liked the "pier-glass" whipping-frame : the girl is stretched out in an X in the inner frame, which is pivoted into the outer frame, so that a quick flip-over has her suspended upside-down-and again, of course, wide open.
Fetishism's well covered too-glace kid boots and body-belts, black, white, or crimson, take your choice! You can use a Seabrook helmet if you want-you know, that football-helmet affair that buckles up round the throat and has no opening at all except for a couple of nose-holes. One trick I thought very interesting is a complete body-stocking in supple scarlet leather, with a scarlet Seabrook helmet to match. It's cut away so that the girl's ass and tits stick out through the holes; she's held up by a hook in the top of the helmet, and you deal with her at your leisure until the sticking-out bits are the same color as her costume....
Oh yes, indeedy, Charles, this is quite a place!
Before I sign off, I must tell you about meeting Dorbon, who was with us for dinner. Apart from looking a bit like Charlie Chan-yellowish complexion and a long wispy moustache-he's a most interesting person. Very dignified, without being in the least stuffy. He speaks about seven languages perfectly, and knows more about world affairs than anyone I've ever met. He went out of his way to be nice to me-which I thought was pretty kind; after all, I'm not particularly important, while he is-or at least he should be. Somehow, he gives off a quite definite aura of power, if you know what I mean; one could easily imagine him sitting on the Mongol Throne-and he'd look just right! It seems a silly thing to say, but a girl might well feel honored to be down in the Playrooms with him. (Quent says he's actually pretty brutal, especially when he's in a dark mood.)
Well, there you are. Tomorrow I'll tell you exactly how I come to be so shagged today; it's an interesting story!
Yours ever, Paul
LETTER NO. III
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
6 June 58
Charles, old dear,
Here, at last, is the story of our session with Jackie Maitland, which left yours truly most satisfyingly pooped!
We broke off from dinner about nine o'clock, and spent half an hour digesting, with coffee and cigars. Then Quent said, "Right, let's go!" and the three of us trooped off upstairs to get ready.
Marcia told me, "You'll find your wrap laid out for you; you wear just that, and a pair of sandals. Meet you at the elevator just before ten!"
So I had a quick shower, and was outside that elevator door at five to ten, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as you can imagine. The other two arrived, dressed as I was, and down we went-me with my heart pounding away in anticipation. I was a bit surprised to find that our Playroom was empty; but Quentin pressed a bell, a few seconds later there was a bit of a commotion outside, and the door opened to reveal Jackie struggling with a couple of Mongols, and making with the "No! No! Unhand me!" bit....
She seemed a bit overdressed for an intimate evening, but Marcia told me later that Quent enjoys the brutal rape play, so his girls come in wearing breakaway clothes which rip off easily. So no sooner had they got her inside than Quentin threw off his robe-and did he ever have a hard-on! -gave a bellow like a bull, and set to work tearing the clothes off her. As soon as he had her down to slip and stockings-which didn't take long-he pointed to a couch and barked at the Mongols, "Tenez-la bien ouverte!" In two ticks they had her on her back with her ass at the edge of the couch and her legs spread wide and doubled back, so that her pretty little crimson cunt was gaping wide open, ready to be raped-which it then was, good and proper! I hadn't noticed before that Jackie has rather beautiful green eyes, but now I could see them rolling around in their sockets as Quent slipped his big rod into her quim. She gasped quite delightfully as the seven inches went right home into her, and tried to struggle-quite uselessly, of course, with the two big brutes clamped onto her long slim legs! Then Quentin let her have it slow and strong and steady, and pretty soon she began to feel it.
Charles, do you remember the Graduation Ball when we got that little nympho Joyce Pettigrew sloshed, and took her behind the coach house? I remember admiring old Quent's control on that occasion; he gave her two orgasms without coming himself, and then came together with her on her third. Well, he still has the old control! We watched Jackie coming up to it, gasping and sobbing, then her eyes went up in her head, she went rigid all over, with her stomach muscles standing out, then cried, "Aah-aaah?" on a curious rising note that I found most appealing. Then she was away to the races, twitching and jerking and having a ball-a real monster spend! Old Quent took no notice, just went on reaming her methodically, but as soon as she'd finished and gone limp, he waved the Mongols away, and leaned forward between her thighs with his arms round them, to keep her spread; then he brought his hands round and started teasing her nipples.
I suppose she must have come again when Quentin did- and you could have heard him half a mile away! But I never found out-because just about now Marcia edged up to me, and before I knew what was happening she had her hand inside my robe and was playing with my prick-which naturally was not asleep at the time, what with the excitement of watching Jackie being raped. I jerked round in surprise, my mouth open; and Marcia had her tongue halfway down my throat before I could move. Well, two can play at that game, I thought, so I had her robe off her pretty smartly-and God, she's got a lovely body! I gave her the old hand-in-the-crotch routine, which seemed to be exactly what she wanted. I had her all moist and she was just spreading her legs to let me get at her clitoris properly, when Quentin exploded; so we broke it up for the moment-but I was certainly beginning to get the idea!
Quent came out of Jackie's cunt, and stood watching her for a moment with a little smile on his face, as she lay there shaking all over and looking very well attended to. Then he pointed to one of the stone pillars, and said to the Mongols, "Attachez-la paries poignets!" She made no resistance as they picked her up and stood her with her face to the column, though she cried out, "No! Please!" as they put the ropes round her wrists. Of course that didn't get her anywhere, and they had her all nicely attached by the time Quent came back from the whip-cupboard with a splendid-looking leather thong in his hand. He dismissed the Mongols with a word of thanks; and now we were alone -the three of us, and Jackie....
Quentin hitched her slip up so that her beautiful pink buttocks were exposed-naked and trembling-ready for the whip. Then he raised his arm-and Thwock! the thong thudded home onto the soft flesh. Jackie's head jerked back in an Aaargh! of pain, and a lovely red line sprang up across the two quivering globes. As I watched, a flush out on either side of the whip-mark; then Thwock! The second stroke drew another cry of pain from the helpless Playmate.
Quentin worked away at the lovely naked ass slowly and methodically, holding his strokes back until the cries and protestations had died away, and the long slim legs had ceased twitching and kicking; then another stroke would set Jackie off afresh, and spread the red stain further across her quivering buttocks.
Now have a look at the enclosed drawing, Charles! I'm very proud of it, because I think it's caught the spirit of the thing. It's stylized, of course; I've shown Jackie's face looking startled, rather than contorted with pain-which would have been more accurate. But she's an attractive girl, and I wanted you to see her as she really is so that you can appreciate what fun it is to use her. We're about six or eight strokes along, I suppose; and they're not piddling strokes, either! Look how the thong's biting into that right buttock: and I think I've caught the "red-flush" effect pretty well, don't you?
She took a good dozen strokes or so before Quentin's prick hardened again-you can see it just beginning to take an interest, in my drawing. I wasn't actually counting because I was busy with Marcia; she let me take her all the way this time, and I had her creaming beautifully into my hand and scratching and clawing at my back, just before Quent finished with Jackie's ass.
Jackie was almost collapsed, leaning slumped forward against the column with her eyes closed; I'm sure she never noticed when Quent fitted her out with black leather cuffs -one on each wrist, and one above each elbow. Nor did she move when he freed her from the column-only to force her arms straightway behind her back, and clip the cuffs wrist to elbow so that she was quite helpless. How those big breasts stood out in that position!
At Quentin's word, we took her over to the couch and made her kneel on it, knees wide apart and feet sticking over the edge. Then we bent the upper part of her body down until her head was resting on the couch. Quent drew a broad black canvas band up from one side of the couch, passed it over the small of her back, and cinched it tight on the other side so that she was held motionless in a squashed-kneeling position, with her flaming buttocks sticking right out and widespread, so that her trim little asshole was displayed, quite defenseless.
Marcia fetched a pot of vaseline from the cupboard and proceeded to work a good dollop into the Playmate's twitching hole; then she greased Quentin's prick all over, gave him an affectionate slap on the bottom and said, "Go to it, Buster!" Which he did, sliding his seven inches slowly but firmly into Jackie's ring to the accompaniment of little gasps and cries from his helpless victim.
While this was going on, Marcia-much to my delight-proceeded to grease my prick too, and her asshole; so that when Quentin gave her the sign to stoop down and frig Jackie's clitoris between his legs, I knew exactly what to do when she put her free hand back and attempted to spread her buttocks for me!
She drew her breath in with a hiss as I buggered her: then I brought my hand round and set about frigging her, as she was frigging Jackie. I followed Quentin's lead and stood quite still; I realized the game was to let our partners suck us off by the twitchings of their assholes when they creamed! Charles, it was absolutely divine! Jackie turned out to be a cunt-quacker-which of course one couldn't tell while Quent had been fucking her; and as Marcia's finger got under way on her clitoris, her cunt started going "Schlurp! Schlurp!"-which I always think is such an exciting sound!
Well, to cut a long story short, both girls came simultaneously, and as soon as Quent and I felt those rings dancing on our pricks-a couple of quick shoves, and there we were too, so that all four of us were spending away like mad at the same time.
When we'd unhitched ourselves from that little lot, Quentin said, "You'd better have her next, Paul; you're one down on Marcia and me. And you've just had an asshole, so what about fucking her?" Naturally, I didn't argue, Charles! Quentin went on, "But first she'd better suck us clean; we can't go around with shitty pricks!" So we formed up at the head of the couch, nice and handy for her mouth. At first she wouldn't do it, and turned her head away with a cry of No!
Marcia soon put a stop to that. She went over to the cupboard- (How I enjoyed watching those lovely buttocks jiggle as she went, Charles, and remembering how I'd shot my load between them only minutes before)-to return with a little scourge in her hand. This had six thongs of thin cord, each cord carrying six hard little knots, and was a teaser rather than a punisher. Jackie was soon teased into obedience because Marcia climbed onto the couch, straddled the hunched-up body, and delivered two smart strokes straight down the widespread crack so that the little knots hissed home along the length of the open cunt. Jackie's shriek of pain was cut short as she thrust her head urgently towards Quentin's waiting prick and set about her task; then she followed suit for me.
Quentin released her from her buggery-position, and we laid her on her back on the couch, arms still pinioned behind her. A thin cord across her throat immobilized the upper part of her body; then Quent fitted her with anklets, which he fixed to the corners of the couch so that she was spread-eagled. The front of her body was unmarked so far, and she looked particularly beautiful lying there all naked and vulnerable, with her big firm breasts rising and falling as she panted apprehensively. I was a bit embarrassed not to be ready to deal with her: but apparently I wasn't meant to yet, for Quent said, "That girl looks as though she needs a bit of waking up, Paul! Try these-" And he pointed to a stout bunch of nettles on a nearby table.
Charles, there's nothing that beats watching a lovely naked girl writhing and squirming under a nettle-birching-and knowing you're going to fuck her when you've finished! I gave it to her good, starting with her breasts and working slowly down to the soft insides of her wide-spread thighs; and did I have her howling!
At the end, Marcia said with mock concern, "I think the itching's a bit much for her, Paul. See if you can't soothe it for her with this!" And she handed me the little scourge. So I went all over the ground again-lovely! Of course by this time I was certainly ready to attend to her!
I was about to leap onto her, when Quent stopped me. "No! You lie on your back, and we'll feed her onto you!" He and Marcia released her, and moved her aside while I lay down; then, while they were easing her over on top of me, Marcia whispered, "Hook your legs inside hers, and spread her; and when she starts to come, give me a signal." So I knew there was more naughtiness afoot!
It was absolutely delicious when they got her on top of me! Her body was burning hot from the nettle stings, and as soon as our flesh touched, she started squirming against me in an effort to ease the itching. I worked my legs between hers and spread them wide, opening her up to the limit; then I felt Marcia take my prick and feed it into Jackie's yawning cunt. She was all warm inside, and her vagina gripped me convulsively as the others forced her onto me till our bushes met. This spread-leg position is an exciting one for the woman, for her clitoris is completely bared to the titillation of the man's bush-and before very long the squirming of Jackie's naked body on mine assumed a different and more personal complexion: she was, in fact, beginning to enjoy the fucking I was giving her.
I stretched out one arm, and set my fingers beating a little tattoo on her asshole; soon she was cooing with pleasure and, when I brought her head down to mine with my free hand, she returned my tongue work with interest.
But she hadn't realized that the spread-leg position also raises the woman's ass-and I could see Marcia standing ready, with a slim cane in her hand. Of course, this made me redouble my attentions to Jackie's velvety cunt; and soon her internal throbs and twitches warned me that her orgasm was imminent. I held out one finger to Marcia in warning, and she nodded her head at me and smiled; then I felt the lovely body lying hot and naked on top of me start to quiver, and the muscles of her stomach go hard. I raised my finger to show Ready! Steady! One second later, Jackie started to cream, with a smothered "Aaah-aah" deep into my throat, and her vagina kneading furiously at my prick. I dropped my finger in the Go! signal, and Marcia's cane flashed down across the naked ass with a satisfying Phwitil Marcia got off five telling strokes before Jackie's body went limp in my arms; but she played fair, and stopped her whipping as soon as the Playmate's orgasm was over. They lifted her now-inert body, allowing me to roll out from under; and together we inspected the martyred crimson ass. A well-whipped pair of buttocks is really a most entrancing spectacle, Charles! Even though I had only just finished coming, I could feel my prick begin to twitch as I ran my finger over the five crimson welts that ran criss-cross over the marks of Quentin's earlier whipping; here and there, the soft skin had been broken so that there were little red flecks in evidence; and Quent said, rather regreftully, "Well, that's it tonight for her bottom." Then, more cheerfully, "So we'll just have to stick to the other side!" And we rolled her over onto her back again.
This time, we attached her further down the couch so that her legs were bent at the knees over the end of the couch; then we fastened her ankles to the couch legs-and that really spread her thighs wide, as you can imagine! Marcia fetched a pair of thin single thongs about eighteen inches long, and gave one to me. Then Quent knelt astride her head and dropped his body back so that his prick was conveniently placed for her mouth. He ordered her to suck him off-which she did, this time without demur! Marcia and I stood on each side of the couch and whipped her- not too hard, but hard enough to keep her writhing and jerking-on the soft insides of her thighs.
After Quentin had come-to the accompaniment of much gulping and spluttering, as Jackie swallowed his copious spend-Marcia replaced him. This time, Quent and I used a pair of slim birch-rods on Jackie's breasts, taking great care to avoid Marcia's quivering buttocks just above, as she enjoyed her lovely gamahuching. The firm tits were still flushed from my earlier nettle-birching and scourging with the little cords: and I suppose they must have been very tender; as we painted the thin red streaks of our birch marks on, she kept whimpering "Nng-nnngg" into Marcia's cunt, pressed tight against her mouth.
Finally, it was my turn. ... I don't actually know what Quent and Marcia were doing to her while I was being attended to; I think they were using the thin single thongs on her open cunt. Anyway, there was a marked sense of urgency about the way she attacked my prick with lips and tongue! And soon I was enjoying my third spend of the evening.
Well, Charles, we were all a wee bit exhausted by now- especially our pretty Playmate! So I wasn't too disappointed when Quent announced, "Well, I think we'll all take a rest: have one last bang at her and then call it a day!" But the look of relief soon vanished from Jackie's tear-stained face when Quent said, with mock solicitude, "I expect you'd like to sit quietly for a bit, wouldn't you?" Then he gestured over to the vaulting-horse with its surface of tiny steel spikes. Her cries of "No, Master, please!" were all in vain, of course; and she was powerless against the three of us as we lifted her astride the horse, spreading her legs wide to ensure intimate contact. It was the work of a moment to anchor her ankle-cuffs to the rings set in the floor. There she was, moaning with pain and giving an occasional little shriek as the spikes made themselves felt on the soft flesh of inner thigh and open cunt.
Luckily for her, we all found the spectacle pretty exciting; I don't suppose more than fifteen minutes had passed before we decided we were ready for her again. Quent decreed that we would do a three-in-one performance; and led the way by lying down on his back. Marcia and I made Jackie kneel astride him, then drew her whip-marked buttocks down so that Quent could get his prick into her cunt-much redder now, as were the insides of her thighs, from the effects of the spike-horse. Then I greased up and buggered her to the hilt; finally Marcia hopped aboard and arranged herself so that her cunt was handy for Jackie's mouth-and away we went!
This one took a bit longer, because of our tiredness-except, curiously, for Marcia, who rather surprised me by coming quite a bit before anyone else. She had absolutely gloated over Jackie on the spike-horse; perhaps, being a woman, it meant more to her to see another girl's secret parts being tortured, would you say? Anyway, she had a roaring orgasm, and I could see her wriggling her ass from side to side as she spent, and shaking Jackie's head. Then Jackie came-briefly, but powerfully; for the second time that evening I enjoyed the thrill of a girl's ring dancing on my prick. Finally, Quentin and I went over the top, and it was quite a thing to feel his prick jerking against mine through the thin membrane that separated Jackie's two holes.
Well, that was it for the evening! When we disentangled ourselves, Jackie slumped forward onto the couch and lay there, out like a light, her pinioned arms lying limp across her back. Occasionally a big shuddering sob shook her body, and from time to time the crimson buttocks twitched in pain; this was one Playmate, I thought, who'd been played with good and proper!
As we went out of the Playroom, the attendants were waiting to take Jackie away. (I'll tell you later on what happens at the end of a session-very interesting it is, too!) Up we went into the elevator, and off to our rooms-Marcia giving me a very warm goodnight kiss as we parted!
Well, there you are, Charles! What a place, eh? No wonder I was too pooped to write a long letter yesterday. Haven't forgotten my promise to try and get Quent to ask you here too. You'd love it, but you'd probably kill yourself, you old bastard! Still, what a lovely way to go!
Had a quiet night last night, thank God! Had a read through some of the incredible pornography in the library; like everything else here, it's about the best in the world! And was in bed by eleven.
Will keep you posted!
As ever, Paul
LETTER NO. IV
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
7 June 58
My dear Charles,
Things go from best to bestest-another incredible evening to report! At this rate, I shall be in a nursing home by the end of the month!
That drawing I did of Quent whipping Jackie's naked ass-well, of course I showed it to old Quent before sending it off to you; after all, he is my host, and all that. Apparently he thought it was excellent and took a photo-copy of it, which he's been showing round very proudly. So what happens at dinner last night? That hot piece Estelle forms up and says she and Marcia are going to do the new Swedish Playmate after dinner, and would I care to join in if I've nothing better to do, and would I mind making a sketch for her! So, after about minus one second's consideration, yours truly decided that he had nothing pressing that couldn't be put off.
So, come ten o'clock, I found myself in one of the Playrooms with three very attractive naked girls-Estelle, Marcia, and the new Playmate, Ulla Bengstrom, an incredibly beautiful ash-blonde number. Marcia had got the curse that day, so she was hors de combat as far as fucking went, but Ulla, the whore de combat for the evening (if you'll pardon the pun) was in fine form-starko-barko and strapped up by her wrists to a splendid whipping-post, tits heaving with emotion and big grey-green eyes rolling in alarm!
"Come on! Let's get this saucy bitch hotted up!" says Estelle, and without further ado the two girls draw a couple of tasty whips from the store, and start laying them across Ulla's slim naked body.
My drawing shows the scene just after they'd gotten into their stride. Marcia's wearing that loincloth because of the curse, but Estelle looks pretty good in a pair of high-heeled shoes and a hairbow, don't you think? Good-looking girl, isn't she, Charles? I've tried to show her eyes sparkling with glee; I think you can see she's obviously enjoying herself! (And you should just hear the racket she makes when she goes into orgasm; that's one exhausting number, Charles, I do declare-and from personal experience, too!)
After they'd given Ulla about twenty cuts each-not too hard, actually but pretty well everywhere, from head to heels, and Ulla not enjoying it much (look how she's twisting about, in my drawing) and screaming out, "Oh, Mistress Estelle! Please, no! Oh, don't!", Estelle put her whip down and had the attendants put Ulla in the pier-glass frame. This has a couple of wrist-cuffs at the two top corners, and a pair of foot-plates at the bottom corners, with stout leather ankle-straps. I hadn't realized how widely the girl gets spread in these contraptions; Ulla was in about as flat an X as anatomy will permit! No sooner was she fixed than Estelle waved the two Mongols out. Then she flipped the inner frame over and locked it so that pretty Ulla was hanging upside-down from her ankles, with her ash-blonde bush and little crimson quim very much on display. "Now we can get cracking!" said Estelle to me with a grin and, by God, Charles, it was ten seconds before I realized she was making a pun!
Marcia had been fetching equipment from the cupboard; she handed Estelle one of those knobbly bamboo asshole-dildoes I mentioned in my last letter-my prick nearly exploded at the thought of watching it being used! She herself had a thin whippy birch-rod, and I got one of those hand-massagers-battery-operated, with a little brush thing at the end made out of rubber spikes. Fascinated I watched as Estelle buggered Ulla with the knobbly dildo; it was quite entrancing to see her little asshole change shape every time another bump slipped in! But somehow Ulla didn't seem to be enjoying it much, to judge from the outcry she made!
Then Estelle put her finger on Ulla's clitoris, which was lying quite defenseless and fully exposed, due to her spread position, and said, "There you are, Paul-target for tonight! All together now. . . ." She started working the bamboo rod up and down in Ulla's asshole; simultaneously, Marcia went down on one knee and began birching Ulla's breasts, and I switched on the massager and applied the business end to her cunt.
I don't know what it felt like for Ulla to have it-but that was certainly a fun orgasm to watch! What with the knobs reaming up and down her asshole and my rubber spikes buzzing away on her clitoris, I really thought her cunt was going to turn itself inside out! She came in streams, sobbing and laughing and going "Aaargh!" every time Marcia's birch landed on her tits.
We kept her going till she almost fainted; then Estelle said "Right!" very business-like, and organized us into taking her down and spread-eagling her on her back on a fucking-couch. When she was firmly attached, Estelle jumped up and sat down on Ulla's scarlet breasts, facing her head; then she lay back till her head rested on the ash-blonde bush, raised her legs in the air, and said, "So what are you waiting for, Paul?"
Naturally, I didn't wait long! I was up onto that couch in an instant, and into Estelle's hot cunt. Just as I got my rhythm, Ulla started crying out; I noticed that Marcia had decided to join the act; she was using her birch across the soles of Ulla's feet.
It was a pretty exhilarating scene, Charles! There I was, stuck into this smashing nymphomaniac perched on top of our blonde Playmate's well-birched breasts and shouting out, "Fuck me! Fuck my cunt! Give me your prick!" And I was further titillated by the knowledge that Ulla's face was just beneath my ass; I found myself imagining those grey-green eyes staring up into my asshole! So I really reamed away with a will, and felt very fierce and proud when Estelle blew up into a monster orgasm, shouting and yelling and digging her nails into my back.
For a moment, I thought she was going to make me come but I managed to restrain myself; when she'd cooled off a bit, I let her have it again, strong and low and very sweet. She took up the rhythm almost immediately; and now she pulled my body down onto hers, and started massaging me with her tits. Our mouths met, and I was a gone coon! God, but she fucks beautifully! I couldn't hold out much longer I knew; the only thing worrying me was whether she was ready to make it again so soon after her first spend. . . . But when I finally went over the edge, she gave a cunning wriggle with her hips-which can't have done Ulla's breasts much good-and joined me in a beautiful long, drawn-out orgasm that had us both gasping.. ..
Then she was up again, full of energy, and ran over to fetch a couple of nettle birches. Together, she and Marcia went up and down Ulla's naked body till the whole front from neck to knees was a uniform scarlet. The unhappy Playmate voiced her disapproval in full-throated fashion till finally Estelle seemed to lose patience, and fetched a stout rubber gag; this she slipped into the open shouting mouth, cutting the stream of protests to a series of muffled "Nnng-nnggs!"
Then Estelle fetched a whippy birch, like Marcia's, and the pair of them went over the ground again-slowly and methodically. Ulla didn't seem to care for it much, I thought; when they were working high up inside the long slim thighs, it really looked as though she would dislocate her pelvis, the way she was jerking it about!
Well, finally they came to a stop. I drew Marcia aside and whispered, "Why don't we whip her ass while she's coming? You know, the way we did Jackie?" Marcia thought this was a fine idea and explained it to Estelle in a whisper-for of course we didn't want to spoil the surprise for Ulla! She grinned and nodded enthusiastically, so I went and fetched two pairs of leather cuffs, and a thin cane which I slipped to Marcia out of Ulla's sight.
After we'd got the cuffs on at wrists and elbows, we released her arms from the couch and made her sit up; before she knew where she was, we had her arms pinioned behind her back-and a very tasty spectacle she made, with those scarlet breasts standing out proudly from her slim body! Then the two girls released her ankles and rolled her out of the way so that I could lie down. Ten seconds later she was lying on top of me, her grey-green eyes staring into mine and her naked body shivering and twitching as the contact between us made her nettle stings itch afresh. Then Marcia fed my cock into her cunt, and I brought my legs up inside hers; I hooked my heels over her calves and spread my legs slowly so that she was opened up to the limit. I felt my prick sink right into her, and she gave a great shudder as her clitoris met my bush. Then I set to work reaming her, slow and deep.
She's nowhere near as tough as Jackie-as I think you can see by comparing my two drawings, Charles; and I should think that whoever fucks her always gets the feeling that there's a rape going on rather than a cooperative fuck. Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, especially because I knew what was coming!
Well, I got her up to the brink in fine style, did my "Ready! Steady!" bit for Marcia, and then "Go!" as her little vagina started pounding away at my prick. I almost wished I could have been down at the other end to watch the fun-those slim, delicious buttocks twitching in orgasm, and then suddenly the Phwitt! as the cane came down! Ulla was certainly surprised! And she jerked so hard that for a moment I thought she'd gotten away from me. But I got my arms around her in time and took myself over the edge, high up in her soft throbbing passage.
Now Ulla had only had one orgasm so far so she was fairly fresh; of course I was spending inside her good and strong. So she lasted out quite a while-enough for Marcia to get in seven good strokes across her ass-but finally she collapsed with a plaintive little "Nnnngg!" behind her gag; and that little episode came to an end.
Estelle didn't give her much rest. As soon as the red-flecked buttocks had stopped heaving about in agony, she said briskly, "Right! Now we'll give her a Jackson Special!" And then, to me, "My uncle invented this tie; he uses it when he's breaking in a new girl." She and Marcia rolled Ulla over onto her back-to a stream of complaints as her weight came onto her tortured buttocks; then they drew her legs up into a tailor position-knees out and ankles crossed. They unpinioned her arms and removed the elbow-cuffs; next they took her wrists and fed them down inside the parted thighs, out under the bent knees, and back across her shins. Then they pulled her two wrists together as close as they would go: and finally they clipped the wrist-cuffs together above the crossed ankles. Ulla was now trussed up like a chicken just by those two wrist-cuffs; the only movement possible to her was to shake her head, waggle her feet, or flap her hands from the wrists. (It really is a hell of a good tie, Charles! Rush right out and practice it on your current girl friend!)
Marcia seized her by the hair and pulled her down onto her back. Up came her heels and-bingo! There she was, wide open and fully exposed, with her cunt and asshole staring up at us from between her scarlet buttocks with their seven crimson weals. Her pretty little cunt was leaking a bit from my recent fuck; altogether she made a very fetching spectacle.
The girls manhandled her down to the foot of the couch till her ass was just overhanging the edge. Then Marcia fetched a whopping great double dildo-a big fat cunt-rod, seven inches long, permanently fixed to one end of a short bar and, at the other end parallel to it, a shorter, smaller asshole-reamer. (This one was adjustable to and fro along the bar, to suit the girl's measurements.) Marcia set it correctly for Ulla, greased both rods well, and slid them into Ulla's twin holes.
The dildoes were so big that even with the vaseline the lips of Ulla's holes were driven in on the in-stroke; while on the out-stroke, they came out in a delicious sort of pout which was most exciting to watch, and-to judge by Ulla's reactions-equally exciting to undergo!
Estelle jumped up onto the couch, put herself in the right position for a nice hunch, and said, "Now you suck me off properly, or I'll put you back in that frame and cane you on the open cunt!"
"Nng-nnng!" said Ulla.
"Women drivers!" said I. "Always trying to start with the brake on!" And I took the gag off our pretty Playmate We all laughed, then Estelle shook her finger at me, saying, "I'll deal with you later, Smart Alec!"
Away we went, Marcia almost turning Ulla inside-out with each slow, deep stroke of the double dildo, and me helping the act along with the rubber massager on her little swollen clitoris. Ulla obviously wasn't going to take too long before coming, so I thought I'd help Estelle along with a finger in her asshole-which seemed to do her a power of good because she and Ulla creamed together about half a minute later, each of them shuddering in a mighty spend.
Then it was my turn-but before I climbed aboard I feasted my eyes on our well-used Playmate, lying there helpless. From the soles of her pretty feet-all red and swollen from Marcia's birching-up to the exciting violet shadows under her lovely eyes, Ulla looked very good indeed! Her tits were more or less hidden by her arms, but I could just see the nipples, looking hot and sore-they'd been birched, and nettled, and birched again. Her ass was a lovely ruin, with the thin marks from the original whipping session at the pillar overlaid by Marcia's seven cruel cane-cuts; and between the aching scarlet buttocks, the monstrous great dildo plunged deep into her two holes. I gave it a cunning tweak which made her jump; then I mounted the couch and presented my prick at her mouth.
I felt her shudder as Marcia started reaming her again with the dildoes; then I heard the whirr of the massager. Estelle was getting to work. I gave myself up to the ecstasy of being sucked off by a well-tortured blonde Playmate-there's nothing to beat it, Charles! Towards the end, I thought she wasn't going to make it; she was going at me less and less urgently, but she made me come just in time, and had succeeded in swallowing down most of my spunk before she collapsed into unconsciousness in a mighty orgasm-with the rubber spikes vibrating away on her clitoris and the dildoes whistling in and out of her body.
Well, Marcia said she had a headache-from the curse; and it was obviously the end for Ulla. So Marcia pushed off, ringing for the Mongols as she went; they carted Ulla off, leaving me alone with Estelle. She grinned at me, and beckoned me over to her, "And what does Smart Alec want to do now?"
I grinned back at her, "Let's see! I've fucked you already; I'm not strong enough to bugger you at the moment, so pick a number between sixty-eight and seventy!"
"Goody!" she said, and was on her back on the fucking-couch in two seconds flat.
We had a lovely sixty-nine together; I put her in the deep position, with my elbows spreading her thighs; then I worked my middle finger into her asshole and my thumb deep into her cunt, massaging the membrane till she cried out in her pleasure. Then I gave her my tongue on her clitoris. My prick was deep in her mouth, of course, but it was too soon for me to come, having just been sucked off by Ulla; so I knew I was one up on her, as it were. I gave her an orgasm as soon as I could, smiling happily to myself as her madly-working holes gripped furiously at my intruding fingers. Then we really got down to it and in the end, we were both sweating and shuddering in ecstasy, as we came together in a monster spend, with Estelle gobbling away at my jerking prick, and me sucking like mad at her streaming quim.
Well, that was the end of the evening. Estelle said, "Thanks, Paul! See you tomorrow." And she was gone-just as though we'd had a friendly tennis match together! They're odd people, Charles-but by God, they're fun!
So that was Ulla Bengstrom-I might just have her served up for me in a couple of days' time. (Quentin told me how to do this; I'll explain in my next.) I didn't get to-bugger her, and I rather think I'd like to! Will keep you posted, of course.
Bye-bye for now, Paul
LETTER NO. V
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
12 June 58
My dear Charles,
Haven't had a chance to write during these past-few days; the whole Chateau went over to Athens for the Horse Show, so I haven't even been on the island. These people sure do themselves well-they keep half a floor of the Grande Bretagne permanently reserved, all the year round; and when you go in there as part of the Oirad outfit, the management falls over itself to treat you like royalty!
The Madariagas have arrived! They arrived at Athens this morning-in a private plane, of course-from Beirut, with a young English guest of theirs called Robin Thompson-who's only staying a week, I gather. We all six flew back here in the seaplane after lunch-the three Oirads are staying on an extra night, to have dinner with the King, if you please!
Don Carlos seems a very nice chap-dark, quite handsome in a roguish sort of way, but a bit smaller than I'd pictured him; I'd been expecting a tall cartoon-type Spanish grandee with a beard, I think! But he looks very fit and wiry. Quent tells me he keeps his Playroom sessions going for hours, and his Playmates really get put through the hoops! I'm a bit doubtful about Donna Isabella; I find her a bit of a stick somehow, and not actually good-looking at all. Still, I suppose I can hardly judge yet; and I must say she greeted me with the old Oirad kiss in friendly enough fashion. Marcia says she'll grow on me very quickly-we'll see! Robin T. looks a bit of a drip to me, and since he's only going to be here a week, I won't bore you with him.
Well, I promised to clue you up about visitor's rights, and so on; so here goes.. ..
The morning after our little session with Ulla Bengstrom, Quent came through on the house phone about ten o'clock, and asked me to join them for breakfast in their sitting-room. This was the first time I'd been alone with them since the Jackie episode, and I suppose I must have been acting a bit constrained with Marcia-I found it a bit startling to remember that I'd actually buggered her in front of her own husband! But Quentin put an end to the chitchat and said, "I think we'd better paint a bit more of the picture for Paul, before he starts getting ideas!"
I looked at him, a bit puzzled; then he went on, "You see, Paul, you mustn't think there's anything personal involved when you find yourself screwing Marcia or Estelle or Isabella or Renee-yes, even Renee!" he said, as I expressed astonishment at the thought of my ever fucking the wife of the great Dorbon. "Down in the Playrooms, anything goes; and if Renee, or anyone else, feels the need to be fucked as part of the general fun-and-games of her evening, and you are available, she'll take you. Conversely, if you decide you want to be sucked off, you'll be sucked off by her, or by whomever you're with. But don't forget that punishing the Playmate is the main objective; the rest's purely incidental-and no personalities come into it at all. It's just an itching cunt or an aching prick that's talking, get it? So I beg of you, don't think that just because you laid Estelle last night, and buggered Marcia the other evening, either of them's beginning to get ideas about you! It's just ordinary Playroom practice!"
Then he grinned at me, saying, "There's absolutely no offense meant, dear boy! Actually, you'll be one of our more popular guests if you keep on turning out those sexy drawings of yours! I showed Dorbon the one you did of me and Jackie; and now he's talking about doing a joint session with you-which is a compliment indeed! So-not to worry in the least; but remember what I've told you, and don't think the girls are falling in love with you just because you get to screw them!"
I was able to assure him, with my hand on my heart, that I had no such ideas at all; and we all had a giggle when I told them how Estelle had swept out of my torrid sixty-nine with just a cheery word of thanks!
Quent then changed the subject completely. "Now, you'll want to know how you get your goodies. I'll introduce you to Turun Hai this afternoon; he's the Chef d'Es-tablissement here-you call him Chef (and don't worry, he won't think you're expecting him to fetch you a boiled egg), and he'll call you Mr. Paul.
"Every morning, Turun Hai puts up an Availability List in the library, showing two categories-Full and Restricted. It'll probably be a couple short of the full number of Playmates, because there'll usually be one or two in the infirmary. You can do what you like with a girl in the Full category, but there are rules about the Restricted.
"When the attendants collect a girl from the Playrooms, they cart her off to the infirmary to be treated. She's kept in as long as is necessary-usually until the next afternoon, though of course the girl tries to stretch it out as long as possible! We've got a clever little Indian doctor on the staff who looks after the whole island-Dorbon included. He's very fair with the girls, and never pushes them out before they're ready.
"Once she's out, she's available again-though under our house rules nobody can give her the whip again until seven full days after she leaves the infirmary. If you wanted to, you could have her afternoon and evening for every single one of those seven days, but you'd be restricted to nettles and dildoes basically, and possibly a light smacking-strap. Still, you can have yourself a lot of fun with a Playmate on the Restricted list-stick her on the electric bicycle with a nettle-leaf stuffed up her asshole, take her off after her third orgasm, and you've got yourself quite an interesting fuck!"
"Ill say!" I murmured, hitching my rigid prick into a more comfortable position.
Quentin continued, "You'll find your name, shown as Master Paul, in a table under the list of Playmates. Choose your girl, write her name in your window, together with the time you want her, and cross her name off the list above; it's as simple as that. Later in the day, Turun Hai sends you a slip telling you which Playroom is yours. If you want any special arrangements-such as finding her waiting on the Spike Horse, say, or wearing a nettle-bra in a whipping-frame-just put a star against her name in your window and Turun Hai'll come and see you and take your instructions; otherwise, the attendants take her downstairs, wait till they see you go into your Playroom, and then bring her in to you and stand by for orders-just as they did with Jackie the other night.
"Now don't be bashful, Paul! You've got full privileges here, so use them! Everyone has equal rights-it's first come, first served with the Availability List; so if you want someone special, get up early and get your name down! And if you happen to want two Playmates to yourself- well, go ahead and book 'em; that's quite common."
Well, I met Turun Hai that afternoon, Charles. A very dignified old codger, with a long white wispy moustache and a clear, shrewd eye. Quent says he was quite a lad in his day-and I can well believe it.
I asked Quentin how the Mongol attendants get on for sex. He told me they have their own compound outside the Chateau, with wives and concubines, and so on; but for those on duty upstairs-they do about a month there, before being relieved-the Management turns a reasonably blind eye to what goes on on the third floor. So, in effect, they do get to screw the Playmates, but they're not allowed to knock them about. Apparently there was one famous occasion when everyone was in Athens overnight for a Palace party; there were fourteen Playmates at the time and seven attendants; and the seven attendants went through the place like a dose of salts! They simply started at one end and worked their way through to the other; and by the end of the night, every single girl had been done three-in-one-which, if you care to work it out, means six times for each of the Mongols!
And while we're doing mathematics, Charles, do you realize what this place really means? Say fifteen girls: and if they're whipped regularly on a seven-day basis-call it fifty times a year-that's 750 serious sessions in the year, say two a day. Take an average of seven of Us in residence-the family members seem to flit in and out quite a bit so it's unusual to find all eight in residence for very long; but on the other hand, there's usually a guest or two around- and you'll see that every single Master and Mistress can get about two whipping orgies a week, and that's without calling on the Restricted list! The human constitution can't take any more than that, Charles, even with the rich diet we get here!
Now I told you I was hankering after a private session with Ulla-well, I fixed it!! You'll remember it was Friday the sixth when Estelle and Marcia and I had her the first time; next day-which was when I met old Turun Hai-I was quite glad to take a raincheck on everything, for I had the most awful diarrhea from three days' overindulgence in rich food. Now, the next day, Sunday the eighth, we were due to push off to Athens in the evening ready for the Horse Show on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of this week-today being Thursday; so I thought I'd liven up the afternoon! Ulla's name was on the Restricted List in the library that morning-they'd let her out of the infirmary on Saturday afternoon-so I booked her for 2:30 Sunday afternoon with a star against her name. When I got down to the Playroom, there she was, just as I'd ordered. ...
Stark naked, Charles-wearing a gag and a nettle-bra, with her arms strapped behind her back, and jacked up on a bloody great dildo on a stand with her legs wide apart, and her ankles shackled loosely to rings set in the floor. They'd wound the dildo so high up inside her that she had to stand on tiptoes, and when I got in, her calves were all quivering in the most exciting way.... Well, I didn't want her to do herself a damage, so I let her down a bit-and was she ever grateful! When she saw who it was who'd booked her for an afternoon's jolly torture, her big grey-green eyes rolled in surprise; and if your jaw can drop when you're wearing a great big rubber gag-well, Ulla's did! I swear she said "Master Paul!" in a surprised tone of voice, but all I heard, of course, was "Nnng-nng Nnnngg!"
She looked lovely, Charles! Seven beautiful purple bruises across her pretty little ass; and the earlier whip-marks were still in evidence here and there as little bluish splodges; when I took the nettle-bra off, her tits were all swollen and angry red, and she kept swinging them about because of the itching.... I could have eaten her!
I started off by teasing her nipples till they went as hard as little acorns, and did that ever make her roll her pretty eyes round! Then I parted her little ash-blonde bush and lingered her clitoris till she simply bounced up and down on that dildo stuck up her cunt, and squirmed around till she gave herself a splendid orgasm. How do I know, Charles? Well, I had my finger up her asshole, and nearly got it bitten off!
So then I wound the old dildo down out of her quim, all beautifully wet and sticky, and untied her ankles. I took her over to a sort of chaise longue affair with a padded seat and back, and told her to wait there. Ulla had already learned that Playmates don't disobey much in the Playrooms-they daren't! In any case she knew she was whip-free, so she just stood there, quite docile, shivering a bit in a well-fucked fashion and looking really rather delicious.
Back I came with the vaseline, and had her bend over with her legs apart. I greased her up and did myself; then I sat down on the chaise and made her straddle me, kneeling, with her knees well spread and her back to me. I eased her down slowly, and slipped inside her tight little ring till she was sitting right down on me. She was smaller than I'd expected, and my prick filled her up pretty solid-as tight as a turd in a trumpet, as the saying goes!
I took her gag off-I wanted to hear her going Oooh! and Aaah!-and pulled her back till she was lying along my body and I could feel her pinioned hands fluttering at me. She was quite helpless, of course, with her legs doubled back under her and her arms behind her back; and I couldn't have been enjoying myself more, Charles!
Then I gave her a finger on her clitoris-which naturally was fully exposed owing to her spread position-and started teasing the nipples on her red, swollen breasts with my other hand; soon she was Ooohing and Aaahing away right enough!
Finally I made her twist her head round and stuffed my tongue in her mouth; then I took her nicely up and up-and over the top-so that she squeezed my prick beautifully with that lovely asshole of hers as she came, and I just burst inside her. God, it was grand, Charles!
After the storm was over, she just lay there on top of me, all limp and perspiring, and crooning away happily to herself in Swedish. . . .
Well, Playmates aren't meant to enjoy themselves in the Playrooms, you know, so I thought I'd better get a bit fierce with her. I had her get up onto a couch; then I undid her arms and told her, "Tailor position!" She didn't like that, I could see, but she wound those long slim arms in and out fast enough, and I clipped the wrist-cuffs together and eased her over onto her back.
What a lovely picture she made, Charles! Those smooth white thighs, all soft and creamy under my touch, and her sweet little quim and asshole, moist and glistening; then those buttocks with the seven lovely bruises from the cane. I played with her a bit and then went over and got a tasty nettle birch and showed it to her. Did she start creating! "No, Master Paul! Oh please! Don't-" You know the sort of thing!
She really yelled as the birch started turning her a lovely angry red, all inside her thighs and over her whip-marked buttocks, and her poor little twitching cunt! I gave it to her good, I can tell you, Charles! And I nearly came when I ran my fingers over the hot little bumps on her pretty body.
I finished off by buggering her again-this time in a rather tricky way, I thought! I took her out of the tailor-position tie, whipped a pair of ankle-cuffs onto her, and tied her out on a spreader-bar, wrists to ankles. Then I put a canvas sling under the small of her back, and ran a rope up from it over the ceiling-hook above the couch-every couch in the place has at least one ceiling-hook, and usually a trapeze as well. On the other end of the rope, I attached a fifty-pound weight; since Ulla only weighs about one-hundred herself, this cut her effective weight down to fifty pounds.
Then I moved a pier-glass mirror to the end of the couch, armed myself with a nice big dildo, and greased her up again. I popped onto the couch and used the counterweight device to help me maneuver the pair of us into position till I was underneath, with Ulla half-sitting, half-lying on my stomach, with her head resting on my shoulder; then I used the mirror to help me guide my prick into her asshole.
Ulla gasped like mad when I fiddled her up and down on the counterweight affair until I was really deep inside her, but she shouted blue murder when I pushed the old dildo into her open cunt. Then I got to work, holding her head with one hand twined into her ash-blonde hair so that she had to watch in the mirror while I buggered her. Christ, Charles, what a lovely sight it was to see that big dildo reaming in and out of her pretty little cunt, and my prick throbbing away in her asshole as I jerked my pelvis up and down at her! After a bit, I let go of her hair and she just kept on watching; so I frigged her clitoris for her and that finished her. She came in streams, shouting and laughing and jerking all over, with her hands and feet flapping away out at the ends of the spreader-bar, and the muscles standing out all along the insides of her quivering thighs and on her pretty little belly-and of course I wasn't far behind myself.
That was a buggery and a half, I tell you! She was nearly flaked out when I'd finished. I unhitched the counterweight from her and just left her there on her back, tied out to the spreader-bar, with her asshole leaking spunk and the dildo still rammed up inside her-Lovely!
More later, old pal, Paul
P.S. I'd more or less decided to send you a picture with this letter-what's the point? You and I know each other too well to get steamed up over seeing each other in action!
But on second thoughts, this is such a nice effort that I think you'll enjoy it; you can't actually see too much of me, anyway! Technically, I'm rather proud of it; it wasn't too easy to get the foreshortening right, in the mirror-image. Ulla's just started spending and-don't ask me how I did it, for I simply don't know-you can almost see her cunt pulsating round that bloody great dildo!
P.
LETTER NO. VI
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
15 June 58
My dear Charles,
Since my letter of Thursday last, life has proceeded very pleasantly, if somewhat exhaustingly!
I seem to remember reading somewhere in Bartlett's Quotations-we haven't got one here, or I'd check-that Oliver Cromwell once said, "I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible you may be mistaken." Well, Charles, I admit to you freely that I was mistaken in my initial unfavorable impressions of Donna Isabella and of Robin Thompson too. Wait while I tell you.
We got back from Athens on Thursday afternoon, and of course nothing formal had been laid on for the Playrooms. Well, there were only the six of us-remember, the Oirads stayed over on the mainland to dine at the Palace- and rather than put Turun Hai to a lot of trouble making last-minute arrangements, Quentin and Carlos suggested we have a private orgy in the cinema and watch some blue films. The rest of us thought this was a good idea; so we formed up about nine-thirty. We all wanted to have an early night-Quent and Marcia and I because we'd been whooping it up in Athens for three nights, and the other three had been doing much the same in Beirut.
At the beginning, we divided up by families-Quentin and I with Marcia, and Carlos and Robin with Isabella. The first film came on, and about two minutes later all six robes had been discarded! Charles, I have never seen anything so blue in all my life. After a bit, it dawned on me that the film had been taken in one of the Playrooms; and I suddenly realized that I had seen one of the girls on my first day here, in the group round the pool. The other girl I'd never seen, and Quent told me she'd been shipped over to Dorbon's sheik friend a few months previously.
There was a tough young Oriental type organizing a couple of Great Dane dogs in the film; the girl I didn't know was being forced to suck off one of the dogs while the other one fucked her vigorously. Marcia leant over and whispered to me, "Ginghis was pretty cross with Barbara that evening; she'd been extremely rude to Estelle. Wait till you see him birching her in a few minutes!" And I knew I was watching Dorbon's son and heir-whom of course I haven't met yet.
Well, pretty soon the action on the screen grew too exciting for us just to sit there and Marcia pushed me over onto my back and knelt astride me; before I knew where I was I had my prick six inches up her cunt, and she had her tongue about six inches down my throat-or so it seemed! Then Quent buggered her most impressively; and we took her, shouting and squealing into a lovely orgasm that had us all sweating in ecstasy.
Naturally, the other three weren't idle either; and I first began to realize I'd misjudged Robin and Isabella when I saw and heard them in action. Robin has one of those la-di-da upper-class English accents that always seem to be concealing the speaker's true feelings under an irritating drawl, but he strips very well-a tough, athletic body with a really impressive cock, and he was certainly buggering his hostess most professionally. I conceded readily enough that he wasn't at all the peesy-weesy drip I had taken him for at first.
As for Donna I., well, her language would have put a docker to shame! She was obviously enjoying her sandwich and the ivory-colored body was writhing and twisting on the two pricks in delicious abandon, while she cursed and swore like a trooper, using words I wouldn't think she'd know-far worse than Estelle used when I was fucking her! So once again, I found myself revising my opinion.
And even more so, later on, for after we'd all had a sandwich to eat and a glass of champagne, Turun Hai's man changed the film and Marcia and Isabella changed places. The new film was equally as exciting-as the first; it was supposed to show an Israeli girl being kidnapped from her kibbutz by a bunch of Arab fedayeen, and then being gang-banged over and over again. I was just puzzling about how realistic it was when Quentin told me it was genuine; before long the two girls were being sandwiched again, this time with me up Isabella's ass. Did she ever fuck me dry when she came, yelling and cursing away, with her ring biting at my prick till I thought she'd snap it off!
Well, we had some more champagne . . . and watched some more films. . . . One that caught my fancy was a race between Renee (who was torturing Diana Manners) and Estelle (who had a tall, willowy blonde, whom they told me was Georgy Meredith-and she's a number I'm going to have to have privately, Charles!) The object was to see who could drive her victim into unconsciousness first. I don't even know who won; halfway through, we changed partners again, and I found myself doing a fantastic sixty-nine with Isabella while Carlos buggered her in husbandly fashion-slowly, methodically, and very sweetly.
Across the room, the same thing was happening to Robin Thompson, writhing helplessly under Marcia's naked body while Quent's balls slapped rhythmically against her open cunt-just above Robin's eyes as he sucked frantically at her in revenge for the sweet agony her mouth was inflicting on his twitching prick.
As we broke up at the end of the evening, Isabella came and asked me, very prettily, if I would care to join her in a session on the following evening; she proposed to do Jenny O'Rourke-a raven-haired Irish number with most unusual dark blue eyes, who's been on my short list ever since I first saw her. She also said she'd seen the drawings I had done of Quent and Estelle, and would I be kind enough, et cetera, et cetera.
I must say I never thought my humble efforts with brush and water color would prove such an unfailing attraction as they seem to be doing, Charles! Perhaps you'd better keep the originals and have them framed. You could show them to the Vicar and your maiden aunts when they came calling, yes?
Well, naturally I said yes; and off I toddled to bed-tired, happy, and looking forward to being even more tired and happy the following evening!
Next day was Friday the thirteenth, but I must confess that everything seemed to go very well, superstition notwithstanding. The Oirads got back before lunch, but they weren't here for long; all three pushed off in the yacht early yesterday morning to pick up Ginghis in Sicily. The Little Princesses are flying down there too, from Lausanne, where their school term's just finishing. So, when they get back next Wednesday or Thursday, Chateau Oirad'll really be at full strength-and there'll probably be a new Playmate too, if Ginghis' trip to Sicily has paid off.
The evening arrived; and since we were coming from opposite ends of the Chateau, I arranged to meet Isabella outside our Playroom. Jenny O'Rourke was waiting for us- stark naked, gagged, and tied out in a widespread X in the center of the room, between floor and ceiling. The Mongols had put Isabella's whipping-table right in front of the unfortunate Jenny who seemed somewhat less than happy at the profusion of whips, scourges, nettle-birches, and other similar goodies intended for her discomfort.
Isabella played with her for a few minutes, as a cat does with a crippled bird. She stroked the firm breasts, gently frigging the coral nipples till they stood up proud and stiff; then her hands strayed slowly down the helpless body, at back and front, to meet beneath the open crotch, teasing and tickling, till Jenny's blue eyes were rolling in their sockets and the lovely body was shivering all over with emotion.
"Try her with the feather," Isabella murmured, pointing to a low three-legged stool standing to one side; on it was resting a gaily-colored parrot's feather some fifteen inches long. I drew the stool up between Jenny's wide-spread thighs and sat down; then I started a methodical teasing of the soft, smooth flesh, alternating between the silky skin at the top of the lovely thighs, and the sensitive inner surfaces of the delicious cunt lying so helplessly open to my attack.
I drove her almost mad, Charles! It really was a lovely feather for cunt-fucking-reasonably pliable, with just the right degree of stiffness; and I worked on her clitoris and cunt-lips until I had her screaming behind her gag. Jenny was quite oblivious of her surroundings by this time; I had kept her on the point of spending for several minutes and her cunt was all moist and swollen red; all she wanted was to be pushed over the edge into the orgasm of the century! .. So she never noticed Isabella standing behind her with a nice long thin whippy cane, ready to murder her ass as soon as she started coming.
But / noticed her, of course, and my prick got harder and harder till I could scarcely control myself. As you will gather from these letters, Charles, this whip-'em-while-they're-creaming technique seems to be fairly common Chateau Oirad practice. What / like about it is its calculated cruelty- not the pain itself, though it's never pleasant to have half a dozen cane strokes on the naked ass, but the disappointment of having one's few fleeting moments of bodily pleasure spoiled in such a brutal manner.
I gave Isabella a long, slow nod; then I stabbed the end of the feather rapidly, half a dozen times, against Jenny's unprotected clitoris. Every muscle in her body seemed to go rigid; then she blew up, in a monster orgasm that had her twitching and jerking in her bonds like a marionette. Then Isabella went into action.
"Phwtt! Phwtt! Phwtt!" The strokes exploded with searing force against Jenny's lovely rounded ass. Her head flew back and she screamed in agony behind the gag; but I kept my feather stabbing away at the sensitive button of her clitoris, and Isabella managed to get in eight strokes before Jenny's orgasm was over, leaving her hanging limply from her wrists, with tears running down her cheeks as if to match the come-juices trickling down her thighs, and her pretty ass a flaming field of red with the eight crimson welts testifying to Isabella's horrid prowess with the cane.
I moved over to Isabella as she stood there motionless, panting with emotion at the sight of Jenny's ass writhing in the agony of her whipping. She's not a pretty woman, Charles-as I think my drawing shows-but she's a real belle laide and I must confess I found her damned attractive at that moment.
Our mouths met; then we were fencing with our tongues; and then our hands went down. I didn't dare let her play too long with my prick, and she herself was obviously more than moist enough for my purpose; so without further ado I laid her on the couch and fucked her vigorously while, behind us, Jenny O'Rourke sobbed with pain and twisted in her bonds, knowing full well we had only just started with her. Alas! poor Jenny! She was, of course, quite right!
Isabella cursed and swore her way through a lovely, satisfying orgasm, and lay quietly beneath me for a few moments. Then, with a last affectionate kiss, she pushed me off her body so that my cock slipped out of her with a soggy squelching noise. A minute later she was up on her feet, bending down to examine with interest the eight throbbing welts on our victim's lovely ass.
Jenny's eyes grew round with apprehension and she moaned behind her gag, as Isabella strolled unconcernedly over to the whipping-table to select her next weapon. She chose a light switch, not heavy enough to cause serious damage but capable of stinging like the devil when applied smartly across a pair of naked breasts-as you see happening in my pretty drawing. The only bit of artistic license I've taken is to remove the gag, which was actually still in place while Jenny was having her tits whipped. But you can't see what a pretty girl she is, with half her face hidden behind a great strip of leather.
Isabella whipped her quite slowly and methodically; and I soon realized that she could put that switch just about anywhere she wanted to. She dealt with each globe separately, working upwards from bottom to top; when each breast was nicely covered with an orderly series of angry red lines, all beautifully parallel to each other, our skilled Spanish sadist sent half a dozen strokes whistling in against each nipple, till the two coral buds had become two swollen dark-red strawberries balanced on a band of burning pain no more than an inch in width.
Jenny was almost beside herself after this punishment; and when Isabella removed the gag, she screamed incoherently for two solid minutes so that it was quite impossible to get our orders across to her. Finally, in desperation, I gave her the parrot's feather on her cunt again, until the mounting sensation of pleasure blotted out the fearful torment at her tits, and she was able to comprehend our instructions.
For our next act, we drew a high bench up along the end of a couch. I say high, but actually it was more of a case of the couch being low; anyway, the bench stood perhaps a foot higher than the surface of the couch. We made Jenny kneel on the bench, facing the couch, knees wide apart; then we bent her forwards and tied her wrists to the corners of the couch so that she couldn't lift herself back up. Isabella lay down on her back and raised her legs, ready to be humped. But remember, Charles, she was lying a foot below the bench on which Jenny was kneeling, so to get her mouth down to Isabella's waiting cunt, Jenny had to bend her upper torso way, way down and hollow her back as much as she could-and what do you suppose this did to her ass and asshole up above? Why, her asshole was so widely stretched that I hardly had to push at all to get the full six inches right inside her lovely rectum!
It didn't take any of us very long to come; Jenny had me firmly up her ass with my stomach thudding against her tight-stretched buttocks every stroke, just hard enough to make her remember she'd been whipped; while the down-bent position of her torso sent the blood running down into the freely-hanging breasts with their bruised nipples, so that the sharp arching pain made her swing them from side to side. She was certainly a bundle of energy as she knelt there between us, and the avid gobbling noises she was making in Isabella's cunt argued clearly that Jenny was going out of her way to avoid displeasing Mistress Isabella! I myself, of course, could hardly fail to benefit from my vantage point in Jenny's freely-offered body; and Isabella was making no attempt to withstand the teasing tongue working desperately away at her quim-so pretty soon we were all creaming like mad, with Isabella pouring forth her usual torrent of obscenities as she came.
After the tableau had dissolved, I found Jenny so attractive, kneeling there helpless in her downward-sweeping position, with her whip-marked ass cocked high up in the air, that I was unable to control myself. "I've simply got to whip that pretty cunt," I muttered to Isabella. She just laughed, patted me on the shoulder, and went over to-the whipping-table-to return a moment later carrying a little scourge made of three narrow rubber thongs set into a handle, which she handed to me with a conspiratorial wink. I got up onto the couch and stood at the end, with Jenny's down-drooping head clutched between my calves; then I raised my arm and brought the thongs down along her widespread crack, so that they curled on round past her asshole to land full on the defenseless target-which was actually out of sight, from where I was standing.
I thought for a moment Jenny would have me off the couch, her body jerked so; then her scream of agony rang through the Playroom. Clearly, Miss O'Rourke found it not to her taste to have three stinging rubber thongs cracking home along her open cunt! But unfortunately for her, her tastes were the last things to be considered in a Playroom- and I happened to be enjoying myself in the most delicious manner-so I went on whipping her along her open, twitching crack, and she went on screaming as the rubber lashes bit into her defenseless intimate flesh, until finally she could stand no more and lapsed into unconsciousness after my fourth stroke on her naked cunt.
I was quite unable to stop myself, Charles, I just kept those thongs whistling down into her open cunt, even though I knew she wasn't with us any more. I tell you, Charles, she was so beautiful, trussed up all helpless like that and having her cunt whipped! I gave her another four before I could pull myself together-and of course by now she was finished for the evening. Isabella didn't seem to mind, however; and after we'd had the Mongols in to cart Jenny off to the infirmary, we gave ourselves a highly energetic sixty-nine and then called it a day.
Tonight I've got Ruth Hacohen booked-a very lush Israeli piece on the Restricted list. Must think of something rash to do with her! How about nettle-rash! Ha! Ha?
Be well, Charles, Paul
LETTER NO. VII
Hotel Grande Bretagne, Athens, Greece
19 June 58
Hi there, Charles!
Don't be fooled by the address. I haven't been kicked out yet! I'm just over here for a couple of days, doing some shopping.
In my last letter I told you about the somewhat short, but very satisfying, session Isabella and I had with Jenny, the Irish Playmate, on Friday of last week. The next night I decided to take it easy; as a matter of fact, Charles, though I was a bit too embarrassed to say so when I wrote on Sunday, jolly old Isabella had rather mangled my knob with her teeth during our final sixty-nine on Friday, and I thought I'd better not do any wick-dipping for twenty-four hours, to let the poor thing recover! So what do I do, clever me? I push off to the library and browse through some of the Chateau pornography-with the result that I get a hard-on like an iron bar which doesn't really help my bite-marks! But I was all right on the Sunday morning, and hastened to book Ruth Hacohen for that evening, as I told you in my last.
She's really rather a splendid piece-a big, dark, handsome girl, rather like a peony just about to become overblown-which is a description that'll either mean bugger-all to you, or make you see her absolutely perfectly! I don't know how long Ruth had been out of the Infirmary, or who had put her in there in the first place, but whoever he (or she) was, he'd done a pretty good job on her. Those opulent curves of hers-which can still fairly be described as firm, though they're getting just a bit near the danger-zone of fat and flabby-were liberally covered with heavy welts, still purplish-red and very painful, and not yet transformed into the traditional blue-black bruise-marks of a past whipping.
The wretched girl was obviously scared stiff, and when they brought her into my Playroom-I hadn't ordered anything special for her, just a couple of bunches of nettles-she threw herself on the floor at my feet, and started beseeching me not to hurt her. "Please, Master Paul, I can't stand any more! Please be merciful, and I'll do anything! Anything you say! . . ."
Well, I'm a sucker for a hard-luck tale, so I went along with her, and graciously allowed her to ream my asshole with her tongue, which she did so effectively that I actually came from that alone, and only just had time to turn round and get my prick into her mouth before I started creaming.
That made a pleasant start to the session, but I was one down now so I made haste to repair the deficiency.
I put her in one of the Chateau Oirad "special furnishings"-a sort of gynecological chair which raises the occupant's legs and spreads them-and of course there are straps to hold her helpless, Charles! Convenient, eh? I cinched her up round the waist and strapped her legs tight and spread them, then tilted the chair right back so that her open cunt and asshole were the highest parts of her body. But I left her arms free, which reassured her a bit, though it left her pretty puzzled. But she understood all right when I came back from the cupboard with one of those nine-inch knobbly bamboo asshole-dildoes and a big fat rubber prick for her cunt, put them into her hands, and told her to use them on herself! She didn't like the idea much, but she knew she didn't have any option, and soon she was panting and gasping as she fucked herself towards orgasm.
I soon realized she was cheating on the bamboo rod in her ass-not really moving it in and out at all, just bending her hand at the wrist to make it look as though she was. I soon put a stop to that! I made her move her hands just like that mechanical Monkey Drummer toy-very stiff and jerky, with about a four-inch stroke, and the two hands going in opposite directions, one up and the other down, and then vice versa. That had those bumps whizzing in and out of her asshole, I can tell you! Pretty soon she came in streams, sobbing and crying and shouting out-and even more so when I took hold of the bamboo and twirled it round and round in her rectum for her!
As you can imagine, I was fairly randy again by now, so I took her down from the gyn-chair and sat her on the bed. She started her pleadings all over again when I produced a yard-long spreader-bar and strapped her out on it, wrist and ankle together, one at each end of the bar. I'd had about enough of her whining by now, so I cut it off once and for all with a bloody great rubber gag. Then I went and fetched my equipment for the next bit, and told her what I was going to do. And, by God, Charles, she still managed to make a hell of a noise, even through the gag! But I just pushed her over onto her back, and then manhandled her down to the edge of the bed-and a very pretty picture she made, all open and spread out by the bar, with her hands and feet flapping hopelessly at each end. Then, standing where she could see me, I started buckling the special dildo around my waist.
It really was rather a splendid toy, Charles! It was a full-sized rubber dildo; and fitted round its rim was a stiff circular brush of coarse black horsehair which stood out around the tip as stout as wire. It was a shocking sensation producer in any event; but Ruth knew the effect would be even worse for her-for I was going to bugger her simultaneously with my own prick, with the result that her vagina would be unable to expand as much as usual.
Even the initial penetration nearly sent her out of her mind and had her screaming behind her gag. I'd greased her asshole fairly liberally, and I don't think it was being buggered that bothered her, but when the bristle-collar went into her cunt, I could see each bristle bending back against the soft pink flesh of her vagina-mouth; she was certainly feeling it! I found myself wondering just what would happen when I changed direction at the end of each stroke. The bristles would have to reverse their "set", wouldn't they? And as they did so, there'd be a moment when every bristle was standing out at right angles to the shaft-ouch!!
Fortunately for Ruth, I found it pretty exciting to have that opulent body bucking and leaping right there under me; and I don't suppose I'd made more than a dozen strokes before I exploded into her asshole in a really lovely orgasm. As I jerked in the rhythm of my spend, the motion of my body was transmitted to the dildo strapped round my waist; and I suppose those horsehair bristles must have been going "Jerk! Jerk! Jerk!" high up inside her cunt-because she joined me while I was still coming, bursting into a spend of such intensity that she fainted.
Before she came to, I put her in bondage, ready for my final episode with her; she recovered consciousness to find her arms strapped behind her back, wrists to elbows. I sat her up and took the gag out of her mouth; but before she could make any outcry, I had a Seabrook helmet over her head and was strapping it firmly round her neck before she really knew what was going on. The Oirad Seabrooks are much the same as anywhere else, Charles-perhaps a bit more ornate, and certainly with more variety of choice than one would normally find; but, as usual, the girl can't see, can't hear, can't open her mouth. She can only breathe through the two nostril holes.
I had a bit of a giggle then, for she leapt to her feet, obviously with the intention of running for cover; but almost at once she realized that you just can't run in a Seabrook! After two very uncertain steps, each of which took about five seconds while she felt her way ahead of her with an outstretched foot, she packed it in and just stood there, shivering.
She jumped about a mile when I reached out and took her by one nipple-still swollen from her last Playroom session; she'd had her breasts whipped, and a lovely central cut had caught her straight across the coral bud-for of course she couldn't know I was coming. She followed me docilely enough to the center of the Playroom, where I spread her legs and shackled her ankles to floor-rings; then I let down a wire from the ceiling, hooked it onto the ring on top of her helmet, and drew her just taut enough not to be able to writhe about which I thought would be quite a pretty spectacle. Then I fetched the nettle birches.
Charles, it was absolutely superb! She had no idea where the next sting was going to come from; so when I reddened that magnificent ass of hers, she kept clenching and unclenching the cheeks-but my next target was her tits; and while she was still shaking them about, I'd give her a smart one straight upwards in her crotch, and she'd go knock-kneed trying to get her thighs together. Then I'd massage her smooth round belly for her-and so it went on, till I was in the seventh heaven of delight.
Finally, I'd gotten her lobster-red all over, and she was twisting and writhing and shaking and shuddering, and I thought she'd be a lovely fuck like that, so I stood up in front of her, bent my knees, and had my prick up her cunt as easy as anything. But I still had one little refinement up my sleeve; I'd kept a nice big juicy nettle-leaf to one side and, when I was properly up her cunt, I put my hands round her back, parted the cheeks of her ass as wide as I could, then pushed my leaf into her asshole. Then she really was a lovely fuck, Charles-gave me more action than a professional belly-dancer!
Yes, quite an evening, that was; and I was in no doubt next day that I'd earned an early night. I put one of the Oirad horses over some jumps in the afternoon, had a nice dinner, took a sleeping pill, and was dead to the world by ten o'clock.
Well, the next day-which was Tuesday-Robin Thompson came in and said he was leaving on Wednesday morning, and would I like to help him that night with Tania Voro-noff? Well, yes I would, Charles! Tania's grandfather was a Russian prince, who had escaped from the Revolution with his wife and two-year-old son, and did the traditional night-club doorman act in Paris. The son grew up and married a French girl around 1936, so Tania must be twenty-one or twenty-two today. The parents were killed by the Gestapo during the German occupation of Paris, and the grandparents died several years ago-so there are no relatives alive to ask awkward questions. Tania caught Ginghis' eye while she was vacationing down in the South of France, and was stupid enough to fall for his cruise in my yacht gambit-and here she is, a jolly little Chateau Oirad Playroom morsel that's very well worth taking a bite of!
Actually, Charles, there isn't too much to tell you about that evening, though we did get some action, of course. Robin is one of the best-hung studs you could hope to meet -bags of stamina, gives his girls lovely great orgasms, and so on. I told you how impressive he looked when he was buggering Isabella, I think. But he admitted to me quite frankly that sadism just isn't his bag now that he's tried it here at the Chateau-says he'd much rather fuck 'em than flog 'em. I just couldn't get him to see that it isn't flog or fuck, but flog and fuck, and that the one complements the other.. .. But he's a nice chap all the same. Takes all sorts to make a world, doesn't it?
So little Tania actually got off pretty lightly that evening, but she knows she's got something in store for her because I caught her looking at Robin almost with contempt, and I knew we couldn't have that, so I whispered in her ear, "You've just earned yourself an intimate evening with Mistress Estelle and me!" That wiped the look off her face in double-quick time!
Curiously enough, even though Robin refuses to believe he could enjoy being a sadist, he has a nice inventive mind in that direction. Look at the enclosed drawing, Charles.... It embodies some quite novel ideas-and they're all Robin's. He knew the mechanics of the position quite instinctively, even though he was inventing it as he went along.
"On your stomach!" he said to Tania; then he made her spread her legs, and got me to help him tie her ankles to the rings in the floor. "But make sure there's plenty of slack; she's got to be able to move her legs about fairly freely." Then he tied her wrists together in front of her, hooked in that ceiling-rope, and pulled her up till she was more or less kneeling upright. The black leather waistbelt fixed that, of course-Robin really pulled those two side-ropes tight, the ones running from the rings at either side of the belt, down to the forward floor-ring. Now she was held taut as a bowstring by the ties at wrists and waist. You wouldn't think she could hollow her back that much, would you, with her legs held wide apart, but only loosely shackled at the ankles?
Then Robin fitted that leather thong you can see running from the back of the waistbelt, down into her crack, between her legs, and out underneath to the forward ring- and you can see well enough how tight that one is, too! What you can't see is that just at the exact appropriate spots, that thong carries a couple of dildoes, fixed to it as rigidly as one can manage with a thin thong like that. Now you can see why her legs had to be apart, and reasonably free to move-so that she can give herself some sort of wanking action when she moves, as she will, when she feels the whips across her ass and tits, as you can see happening in the picture. Ingenious, isn't it? And I can't see why Robin has persuaded himself that sadism isn't his thing, for he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself whipping Tania's buttocks.
But perhaps he knows himself best after all. I do admit he didn't seem to have the knack of letting one torture-situation flow nicely and smoothly into the next. For instance, after Tania had creamed, he hadn't the faintest idea what to do next; so I had to take over, more or less. I suggested to him that we should use the spike-horse; and soon Tania was staked out on top of it, lying forward with her whole front resting on the spikes, and being kept there by a broad canvas strap across the small of her back. To keep her happy, I put a mechanical double-dildo into the appropriate position so that she had two further orgasms before she succeeded in sucking the pair of us off.
Robin didn't seem to want to torture her any more and, after all, it was his evening, so I couldn't very well complain. ... We teased her up a bit with the nettles, and we sandwiched her twice, taking turn and turn-about so that in the end each of us had had her three times, in mouth, cunt and asshole.
Not one of the more memorable evenings, I fear!
I thought I'd put in a couple of days round the Athens shops, so I came over yesterday morning with Robin and booked in at the Grande Bretagne. Quentin had given me some sort of passcard, and as soon as they saw I was from the Chateau, they treated me like royalty. I saw Robin off on the noon plane for Beirut-did I tell you he's with the British Embassy there?-went shopping in the afternoon, did my pretty picture of Tania in the evening (I take my sketching things with me everywhere these days), and had an early night.
I spoke with Quentin earlier this morning over the radiotelephone (the Chateau keeps a terminal permanently set up in the hotel here-I tell you, Charles, you can do anything with money!) The yacht's due back this evening, with Ginghis and the two Little Princesses-and then I shall have met everybody. Quent said Ginghis had had a very good trip in Sicily-so presumably he's picked up the new Playmate they've been talking about. Of course, with so much electronic eavesdropping going on these days, one can't speak too freely over the air.
They're sending the seaplane over for me after lunch, so I must close this letter right now. I've got a noon appointment at the barber's in a few minutes, and still have some things to buy. So I'll get this into the mail at once.
More later- As ever, Paul
LETTER NO. VIII
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
22 June 58
My dear Charles,
Here's some news which will please you- though it's a bit disappointing in the short term. I told you I'd try and get you invited here; and I have in fact been working away on old Quentin, though obviously I can't be too blatant about it. Well, we were yakking about old times yesterday, and I brought your name into the conversation. Quent said, "Charles Mason! You know, Paul, I rather liked old Charles. D' you think it would amuse him to come and visit us here?" I said I thought it probably would (!!). "It's a bit late this season," said Quentin, "but why don't the pair of you come over next summer? We'd like to have you back, Paul-and you could bring him along with you."
So there it is, Charles! Sorry about this year, but it does look promising for next year, doesn't it? Start eating your vitamins right away, you're going to need your, strength! And rest assured I won't let Quent forget.
Well, back to the saga. The yacht was already berthed when I got back from Athens on Thursday; and I met the missing members of the family at teatime-Ginghis and his half-sisters, the Little Princesses.
Ginghis is a fascinating character, quite unlike what I'd expected. Basically, he's very like his father, and yet at times he's completely different. When he's silent, the resemblance is unmistakable, but the moment he speaks, his tones and mannerisms are so Westernized that the likeness seems to fade away while you watch. Of course, he spent his formative years in the States, so it's not too surprising that he's so Occidental in outlook. He's twenty-seven now, so he must have been about eight at the start of World War II, when Dorbon decided to sit it out in America. Ginghis was U.S.-oriented for the next thirteen years; he's Groton and Harvard-though there's a veneer of international and stinking rich overlaying the American Establishment bit-arid probably that in itself merely serves to mask the underlying Oriental.
I know I'm making him sound complicated, Charles! And he is complicated, I'm afraid. He gives off an aura of power just like Dorbon; yet half the time he's cracking awful one-line gags like Bob Hope! And just after you've groaned at one of his ghastly jokes, you realize that he's been the Chateau Oirad hunter since he was twenty-one, and must have organized the kidnapping of more than thirty Playmates-and played a personal part in most of them, too!
Oh yes, he's fascinating all right!
The Little Princesses-Jeanne and Marie, not that it matters, because they're impossible to tell apart-are really rather sweet. They're only thirteen now, but they've matured early as Eurasians so often do; and they are most incredibly good-looking! If I had my own Chateau, I could make do with just those two, and nobody else! Yes, indeedy! They have access to the Playrooms; in theory, they're "under instruction" from their half-brother-they're rather fond of him, incidentally, and call him Ginger. Indeed he always tries to be in residence during their vacations. They won't be allowed to run their own sessions till they're fifteen.
Now for the new Playmate-Carlotta Montesi-Ginghis bought her in Sicily without much trouble; I gather she's a kleptomaniac, and things were becoming tricky for her in her village; she's a sexy piece too, so when Ginghis offered her a chance to get away from the local shopkeepers and the gendarmerie, and put a nice sum into the bank, and get some interesting hokey-pokey into the bargain-well, the silly bitch jumped at it!
How do I know all this, Charles? Just you wait till I tell you! Now, you've had five of my saucy little drawings so far, haven't you? Jackie Maitland (with Quent), Ulla Bengstrom (with Estelle and Marcia), Ulla alone with me, Jenny O'Rourke (with Isabella), and Tania Voronoff (with Robin Thompson and myself-back view only). Ulla alone with me was private-you're the only person who's seen that one. And the Tania one, done in the Grande Bretagne, also came to you direct. But the other three I cleared with the persons in them, before sending them on to you; they've all three been photographed in color and shown round the place; and somehow people seem to like them.
So there we were at dinner on Thursday evening-all very gay and convivial, and enjoying Ginghis' tale of how he'd snared the Montesi girl. Suddenly Dorbon turns to me, says he proposes to break her in on the following evening, and asks me if I'd care to join him, "And do one of your beautiful sketches?" Naturally, I said I'd be honored-and indeed, Charles, according to Quent it is an honor; Dorbon doesn't usually team up with guests, and this is certainly the first time he's ever done so for an initiation!
Well, that solved the problem of what to do with my evening; if I was going to perform with Dorbon the next night, I'd better get as much sleep in as possible. For him, I'd have to be at my best! So, early to bed for yours truly!
Next evening saw me outside the designated Playroom nice and early, as you can imagine, Charles! Dorbon arrived a few minutes later and in we went. Almost immediately, the door opened again, to admit Turun Hai, leading four brawny Mongol attendants manhandling two struggling naked girls. One of them was obviously our new Playmate Carlotta-a dark young Italianate type with a superb figure, who was screaming blue murder in the grip of her two attendants. I'd never seen the other girl-a strapping sort of Nordic Earth-Mother wench with corn-blonde hair and blue eyes and big, lush breasts.
"This is Anna von Richter, Paul," said Dorbon. "I'd intended to have Diana Manners with us tonight, but alas! Renee had a somewhat exhausting conversazione with her last Friday, after we'd gotten back from Athens. Dr. Kumar kept her in the infirmary till Sunday, so she's still on the Restricted list. But Anna will make an excellent substitute; she has a most remarkable resistance to pain, is that not so, Anna?"
The blonde looked extremely discomfited, and gasped out, "Oh, Master Dorbon ..." in a despairing tone of voice.
"The suppositories, please," said Dorbon, almost conversationally. I watched in amazement as each naked body was up-ended and doubled up, to be held firmly, head down, against a brawny Mongol chest, with a pair of strong arms clasped limpet-like around the torso and the parted, up-bent thighs. The whole scene looked rather as if the two girls had been doing jack-knife dives-devoid of costumes-and had been caught in mid-air just before flipping their legs up vertically for their entry into the water. And of course their private parts were now on display in extremely public fashion! Carlotta was screaming her head off, but the more experienced Anna was, so far, merely sobbing in despair.
Turun Hai stepped forward, carrying a plate on which lay two objects about the size of one's top thumb-joint, pale amber in color and glistening moistly; also a thin, smooth wooden rod, some nine inches long. He paused before Anna and her second attendant spread her already gaping asshole even wider with his fingers. Turun Hai inserted one of the yellow suppositories and drove it gently home with the wooden ramrod; then he passed to the Italian girl and the process was repeated. Then both girls were set on their feet again.
"A strong irritant of the ginger family," said Dorbon in answer to my unspoken question. "This little torture has roots that go right back to Classical Greece. Rhaphanidosis was the punishment for adultery in those days. 'The introduction of a radish into the fundament of the guilty party,' as the lexicon puts it; and when you think of the horseradish you eat with your roast beef, well, need I say more? I use a Chinese root-nowhere near as strong as horseradish, but highly painful all the same; they'll not clench their muscles in comfort while my suppositories are up them, I fear!"
Before he had finished speaking, Anna was groaning in pain; her upper torso was writhing vigorously, but she was holding herself curiously still from the waist down. "She's had it before," explained Dorbon, "and she knows it's much less painful if one keeps absolutely still!" He nodded to her attendants and the groaning German beauty was set on one side to wait her turn, while Dorbon took his pleasure with Carlotta. But just hear what waiting in turn meant, Charles!
The Mongols strapped her arms behind her back, wrists to elbows; then they shackled her ankles, wide-spread, to ring-bolts in the floor. Then a curious stand was set between her legs; this had a shaft that could be wound up or down, and at the head of the shaft was a horizontal bar, perhaps a foot long. But it was triangular in section, Charles, and came up into a sharp ridge along the top- and they wound this up and up till the sharp edge disappeared between Anna's plump cunt-lips, and further up still till she was standing on tiptoes to avoid the sharp biting pain right inside her cunt. And there she stood, with aching calves, her cunt on fire from the sharp ridge pressing up into it, and Dorbon's devilish suppository spreading its agonizing discomfort high up inside her rectum-and she knew that this was only the waiting period before her real punishment began! A lovely spectacle, Charles, I do assure you.
You mustn't think that Carlotta had been standing idly by all this time! She had started writhing and screaming the minute the pain of the suppository hit her; and of course all her body movement only made things worse-so she was not in the best of shape when her attendants forced her arms high above her head and enclosed her wrists in a double-handcuff affair hanging from a cable, which they then drew up until her lovely naked body was raised about an inch off the floor.
Dorbon cast off his robe and stepped forward. His rigid prick was vertical up his stomach so that his navel was hidden by the big ruby head. Turun Hai handed him a slim, supple birch, and he began to punish Carlotta's smooth golden globes'.
I don't suppose Carlotta had been punished since she was a little girl-and certainly she had never had her naked ass whipped with the savagery which Dorbon was now exerting. He would deliver a stroke with the full force of his muscular arm, drawing a dreadful screech of pain from the wretched Carlotta, and lacing her tender buttocks with half a dozen vivid red stripes, liberally dotted with little spots of a darker red where the hard buds on the birch twigs had struck. Then he would pause and bend forward to examine the writhing, twisting ass till the first paroxysm of pain had passed, and Carlotta's body was once more relatively still. Then another stroke would fall-and so on, with no more than perhaps four strokes being delivered every minute. After no more than ten strokes, the skin of her ass was broken here and there, and tiny rivulets of blood meandered lazily down her quivering thighs; by the end of the twentieth stroke, much of the martyred surface was a shining mask of red.
Dorbon threw down his birch with a cry of satisfaction, and snapped his fingers at his Mongols. Quickly, Turun Hai stepped forward and handed him a condom of heavy rubber, which he drew onto his stiff prick with the words, "Don't forget that suppository, Paul! It's no respecter of persons." Then the two attendants seized Carlotta's long legs and drew them forward, up past the horizontal, and spread them wide, so that her well-birched buttocks parted to offer her asshole to Dorbon's probing prick. He buggered her hard and deep so that the head of his impatient rod stirred up the suppository in her tortured rectum; and before he had achieved his orgasm, the unhappy girl's screams of agony had died away into whimpers as she felt her senses failing her. In the end he found himself creaming vigorously into an unconscious body.
Under Turun Hai's supervision, the new Playmate was taken down and carried out into the adjoining toilet, where the wicked suppository was flushed out of her body with warm water from a rectal syringe. Then she was brought back into the Playroom and secured face-down on the spike-horse, to await her Master's further pleasure.
Dorbon turned to me, with a wave of the hand to Anna von Richter, moaning and sobbing on her perch of pain. "Your turn, Paul," he said, and nodded to Turun Hai. In the twinkling of an eye, the statuesque blonde German had been relieved of the cruel ridge-bar in her cunt, and allowed to sink back onto her heels. But the respite was of short duration. The bar on its stand was set in front of her, now running parallel with her body; then strong hands bent her forward so that she was doubled into an inverted U, with the bar supporting her across the stomach; then her arms were released from behind her back, to be drawn down in front of her, with the wrists tied down to ring-bolts in the floor. In this position she offered a most exciting target for the birch-rod which Turun Hai now handed me.
This was the hardest I've whipped a girl here so far, Charles-but remember that Dorbon was setting the pace, so I felt free to follow his example. I only gave her about a dozen, because I'd have come if I'd gone on whipping her! But even so, I drew blood here and there; and when I'd gotten my rubber on and buggered her, it only took me about four thrusts before I simply exploded inside her! It was lovely, Charles! Then they took her out to flush the ginger thing out of her; and now it was Carlotta's turn again!
These people really think of everything! The drill this time was for Carlotta to suck Dorbon off. But who could tell whether she'd ever done it before? Or whether she'd be safe? Would she, perhaps, suddenly take it into her head to sink her teeth into her tormentor's knob? Trust Chateau Oirad to come up with an answer! While I watched, the Mongols forced her mouth wide open, then Turun Hai inserted an incredibly cunning device. At either side were pads of hardwood, which fitted between the girl's back teeth and prevented her closing her mouth. These were fitted at either end of a metal bar, which had a big empty circle let into it in the middle; this circle came just in the O of the open mouth, thus forming a second safeguard against any closure of the victim's jaws.
But before Dorbon fucked her in the mouth, the Mongols removed her from the spike-horse-replacing her with Anna, who had now been brought back into the room-and made her kneel against a sturdy wooden post set into the floor and standing some three feet high. With her back against this, and her arms and legs drawn back around it, to be pinioned on the far side, the open-mouthed Italian Playmate was of course quite helpless-and the position caused her to thrust her lush breasts forward most provocatively. All covered as they were with little scratches from the spike-horse, they were in poor shape to resist Dorbon's agonizing attentions-first with a birch of fresh green nettles, and then with a little cat of half a dozen thin leather thongs in a short handle; soon the beautiful globes had gone an angry red, with the nipples looking unnaturally swollen, while poor Carlotta screamed wordlessly through her anti-gag. Only then did old Dorbon advance on her, hold her head steady with a fist twined in her hair, and thread his prick through the metal O.
After she had been removed, coughing and retching, Anna was set in her place; and it was now my turn again. Anna, of course, needed no safety device in her mouth; as a Playmate of some seniority, she knew better than even to think of savaging a Master's prick with her teeth-so I had the added pleasure, while I was whipping her breasts, of hearing her pleas for mercy addressed to me personally, whereas all we had heard from Carlotta was "Aaaargh!" and "Gloggg!" and "Oooooh!" because of the thing in her mouth.
For seconds, after the nettle-birch, I chose a thin leather thong, hardly as thick as an ordinary lead pencil. This stung like the devil, and was just heavy enough to make the breast bounce about beautifully when the blow landed; once again I found I couldn't go on as long as I wanted to, but had to get my prick into Anna's mouth fast!
Dorbon now realized that we hadn't yet seen what Carlotta looked like when she came-which was, of course, a must for her initiation. So we had both girls perform a sixty-nine, with Anna on top, spreading Carlotta's blood-flecked buttocks really wide and sucking like mad at the magnificent cunt revealed beneath the Italian girl's luxuriant black bush. The new Playmate turned out to be a noisy-orgasm girl, with a mounting tide of gasps and little cries and groans, culminating in a long-drawn-out "Aaah-aah-aaah!" as she came in streams, her crimson cunt twitching vigorously under Anna's expert attentions.
Nobody seemed to bother whether Anna herself had come that time; but she certainly spent very nicely a few minutes later. Carlotta's orgasm was such a fun performance that Dorbon decided we should have it repeated; and this time the girls were up-ended in the arms of the Mongols in the same jack-knife position they had been in before, when the suppositories were inserted. Then Turun Hai handed us each a battery-operated massager and we frigged them on the clitoris till they came. Dorbon let me do Carlotta, which was a nice compliment, I thought.
For the final act, both girls were strung up by the heels from trapezes hanging from the ceiling, and we whipped them on the insides of the thighs and on the cunt-not too hard because, as Dorbon explained, we didn't want them to faint; but we went on for a nice long time, till both of us were as stiff as pokers with the excitement of it. Then Dorbon had the Mongols take them down, and hold them for us in deep fuck positions, with their legs doubled right up onto their chests; then we fucked them.
From what I've told you, you'll see that the enclosed drawing is a composite-or in simpler words, Charles, a fake! Dorbon using the knotted-cord scourge on Carlotta's cunt as she hangs from the trapeze is accurate enough, I think; and so, for that matter, is me (back view as usual) using the leather thong on Anna's tits as she kneels against the short whipping-post. But of course they didn't happen at the same time-but never mind, I'm allowed some artistic license, I hope; and Dorbon certainly seems pleased enough with the sketch.
Having now had the honor of sharing a session with him, I can testify that jolly old Dorbon's definitely as fierce a practitioner in the Playroom as Quentin said he was! Anna von R. came out of the infirmary this afternoon-but Carlotta's going to be kept in till tomorrow-which will be the third day, which is most unusual, and shows how severe Dorbon was with her.
Well, after that little performance I was quite glad to take an early night last night, and was in bed by ten. But sink me, Charles, the books I'd taken out from the library made me so horny that I simply had to toss myself off twice before I could sleep. But I had a good long sleep-in this morning, so I'm feeling all right now.
Will keep you posted, Yours aye, Paul
LETTER NO. IX
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
25 June 58
Charles, m'dear,
That Ginghis is an ingenious sod! I didn't tell you this in my last letter-which was running on a bit, I fear-but when I tottered into the library just before lunch on Sunday to see who was available for the evening, I found a short notice on the board, signed by Ginghis, which suggested that we might all consider doing without any private sessions that evening, and joining instead in a monster orgasm orgy, during which we would see how many times we could get Diana Manners and Caroline Bentham to come-both of whom were on the Restricted list at the time. Nearly everyone had signed the notice Agreed-the only names missing were the de Madariagas and mine, and since my own hosts had already said yes, I could hardly do otherwise, I thought. So I put down Agreed, too.
I sat next to Marcia at lunch, and asked her who Caroline Bentham was. Marcia described her as a very luscious long-stemmed American showgirl from Las Vegas. I had probably seen her by the pool that first day-I seem to remember seeing a tall, well-stacked tawny-haired number, but she didn't really register, what with Jackie being called over to us by Quentin. And I hadn't seen her since. Carlos is very hot on her, Marcia said; and no sooner is she off the Restricted list than he books her-sometimes alone, sometimes with Isabella-and puts her back on again! The last time was Tuesday of last week, so the Sunday orgy would make a nice half-time entertainment to see him through to the next serious session-which will be tomorrow, probably; she was still on the Restricted list this morning, but it must be nearly the end of her week.
As to Diana Manners, Marcia told me that Renee had done her on Thursday, as soon as the Oirads got back from their trip to collect Ginghis and the kids. She'd been kept in the infirmary till Saturday lunchtime, so I knew we were going to see some good-looking welts on her body that night!
Finally, Marcia said that the Little Princesses would be there; and she told me that it was perfectly all right for a guest to gam them, or ask to be sucked off, or do a sixty-nine-but not to fuck them unless either Dorbon or Renee said O.K. If one of the girls got a yen for me, she'd go and ask one of her parents, who would drop a word in my ear; and then I could give the kid a nice gentle fuck. It never actually got that far, Charles; but read on, old pal!
Well, we all formed up that evening in a Playroom I hadn't seen before, rather bigger than the normal, and I must say the space was needed, for of course there were eleven of us-there were six Oirads, don't forget-so the room was fairly crowded.
The two girls were strung up facing each other, in a nice taut X position, ready and waiting for us. Diana Manners was quite lovely; she has that darkish skin that brunettes often have, like a ripe peach, and she's slim almost to the point of thinness. And had she ever been whipped, Charles! Great big purplish welts everywhere-breasts, belly, thighs, shoulders! A week wasn't going to be enough to let that lot clear up! And when you went round behind her, you could see how Renee had birched her pretty little ass till it bled. Ouch! She really was in a mess!
Caroline Bentham looked absolutely superb-a much softer, lusher body than Diana's, and much more of it. She must stand a good five feet ten, I would say. Atypical American showgirl, Charles, quite beautiful, in a completely vapid way-no character in her face at all, compared with Diana Manners. Carlos hadn't been as severe with her as Renee had been with Diana; she had half a dozen bluish-black bruises across each breast-he'd used a cane-and perhaps a dozen across the ass, but the rest of her body was unmarked.
There seemed to be a tacit agreement that Ginghis should organize the evening; and he started off with a race between the Little Princesses, to see who could bring her girl to orgasm first, using just hands and lips-no instruments. Off came their robes and for the first time I saw Jeanne and Marie stark naked-beautiful, Charles! Only thirteen, but almost fully-formed already; another two years, and they'll have men creaming in their pants, just looking at them!
Each of them took post at the side of her girl. Heaven knows which was which, they both look so alike! Then their hands came out-one to frig the clitoris in the defenseless quim, lying all open in the X position, the other teasing its way between the cheeks of the ass to attack the victim's asshole. Simultaneously, the lovely heads came forward to take the bruised nipples between the parted lips and titillate them maddeningly with a serious, skillful tonguing.
Diana came first-a short, sharp, intense orgasm that had our cool English aristocrat flushed and panting in her bonds. Caroline was not far behind; she creamed less violently, but went on much longer-slow and steady, gasping and panting as the milky fluid seeped out of her twitching cunt to trickle slowly down her lovely thighs.
Jeanne and Marie blushed prettily at our applause; then, to my delight, they came over to where I was standing with the Van Dines, and asked Quentin and myself to give them sixty-nine. This was the signal for action stations among The Management; and by the time Quent and I were properly installed over the slim naked bodies, with the quivering thighs tucked back under our arms, the others were already at it-Dorbon fucking Renee, Isabella bouncing up and down on top of Carlos, and Ginghis in a daisy-chain with Estelle and Marcia-sucking furiously at his wife's cunt while she gummed Marcia, who in turn took Ginghis' prick into her mouth.
Oh, but I creamed sweetly into the greedy little mouth below me, Charles-Marie or Jeanne, who cares? And I had her flopping about in ecstasy as I drove her into a monster spend, my tongue and fingers busy . . . busy .. . busy! ... on the fresh little cunt and asshole... . Delicious!
After we'd all recovered from that one, Ginghis had us take the girls down from their X bonds. Then he made Caroline lie down on her back, a broad band of stout canvas webbing running cross-wise underneath her. Diana was put on top of her, in sixty-nine position, and the canvas band was brought up and cinched right across her back, so that the two naked bodies were bound firmly together. Ginghis then explained that they would be whipped with nettles until they had both achieved orgasm, and told them to start sucking-an order they obeyed all the more readily because of the steady rain of stinging blows from the nettle-birches in the hands of Marcia and Estelle!
We reveled in the delightful spectacle of the two naked Playmates rolling over and over as each strove to adopt the under position and so avoid the nettles' sting; but they soon realized that unless they sucked each other, they would not come-and unless they came, the nettles' torment would not stop. So in the end, they decided they must simply grin and bare it-sorry, Charles, I mean bear it, of course-and first Caroline stayed in the top position, sucking and shrieking, and shrieking and sucking, until she had managed to bring Diana to orgasm; then with a gasp of relief jolly old Caroline rolled over into the under position, while Diana-her thin boyish body still jerking in its spend- steeled herself against the frightful itching of the nettle-birches and set to work frantically gamming the plump cunt of her fellow sufferer.
When Caroline had had her spend, Ginghis released the two Playmates from the canvas band. We laughed to see them writhing and twisting on their backs on the floor, in an effort to assuage the terrible nettle rash that was driving them half-insane. But it was no part of Ginghis' plan that they should be allowed to idle their way through the evening and, as he pointed out, their breasts and bellies were as yet unscathed, having been pressed together so that the nettles could not reach them.
So within the minute, that pair of popsies found themselves strapped down on their backs on narrow wooden benches, their arms drawn down and pinioned to the bench legs, and their legs held vertical and wide-spread with the ankles fastened to ceiling trapezes. Then Renee advanced on Diana, and Isabella on Caroline, fresh nettle-birches in their hands-and soon the unhappy Playmates were serenading us in no mean style as the telltale red stains spread over the fronts of their bodies.
Now Ginghis and Carlos entered the act with a nice refinement of cruelty. I told you about the bristle-dildo I used on Ruth Hacohen, Charles; well, this time Diana and Caroline were going to be fucked with live pricks adorned with inch-wide bristle-rings-and the two Masters made a deliberate production of drawing the tormenting rings over their rigid cocks in full view of the horrified girls, whose cries (already piercing, under the careful nettle-birching of their breasts and bellies by Renee and Isabella) became strident as they realized what was planned for them next.
Carlos stepped to the end of Caroline's bench, and Ginghis to Diana's. The two stiff pricks, each with its curious inch-wide band of black just below the shiny ruby head of the swollen glans, disappeared slowly into the open cunts. Then the two girls were royally bristle-fucked till they could scream in ecstasy no more, but collapsed with hoarse gasping noises as they came in streams under the maddening friction of the horsehair bristles against the sensitive walls of their vaginas.
The Playmates had had three orgasms each, so far; but Our Side had had only one-except for Carlos and Ginghis, who had just had their second. We repaired that omission without delay! Each man paired off with two women- Dorbon with Marcia and Estelle, Quentin with the Little Princesses, and myself with Renee and Isabella. I haven't the faintest idea what the other two trios were doing; all I know is what happened in mine! My two beauties laid me down on my back and Isabella mounted my cock, kneeling astride my body, while Renee knelt astride my face and lowered herself down till her splendid black bush was tickling my chin. Up above, the two friends had their open mouths locked in a loving lesbian kiss, and their agile hands were playing with each other's breasts, while I pleasured them down below.
Isabella worked so vigorously on my poor prick that I could scarcely control myself, and certainly gave Renee her money's worth, gnawing at her cunt till she writhed about in delicious agony; she finally half-drowned me with a copious flow of juices that filled my mouth. Not that I cared, for Isabella and I were coming very sweetly at the time, and it was a somewhat weary threesome that broke apart a few moments later, wet and sticky with sweat and spunk, and feeling very contented.
We found that during our absence on duty, Carlos and Ginghis had removed the girls from their benches and installed them, lying fully forward, on a pair of spike-horses- awaiting further orders, you might say! Ginghis established that the only people who hadn't yet had a bash of some sort at our pretty pair were his father, Quent, and myself. Dorbon generously waved us young 'uns into action; and we lost no time in grasping the double dildoes that Ginghis held out to us, and getting to work. I had Diana and I felt really randy to be torturing the proud Lady Diana-who was groaning and gasping as my in-and-out strokes not only drove her slowly up the ladder to yet another orgasm, but also shook her slender body to and fro on the cruel little spikes, so that her nettle-reddened front was being constantly punished: Her resistance gave out in the end; with a loud cry of anguish, she broke into an exhausting spend that jerked her about on her bed of spikes; and under this extra dose of pain, she lapsed quietly into oblivion..
Caroline wasn't in much better shape, either; she just lay there, sobbing quietly, with her eyes out of focus and her juices trickling slowly down her thighs. Somewhat reluctantly, Ginghis decided we'd better call it a day-even though four orgasms was hardly what you might call record-breaking. So we packed it in and went to bed; I for one wasn't too distressed, for Quentin had invited me to join him with Georgy Meredith the next night-and I wanted to be in good shape for that!
Twenty-four hours later, I was down in the Playrooms again, feeling very glad that I had exercised a little moderation the evening before; it was quite obvious that I was going to make a proper pig of myself now!
Georgy Meredith is utterly lovely, Charles-and I find I'm more than a bit emotionally involved with her, or at any rate with the idea of her. She's an upper-class American -the sort of girl we'd expect to meet at some Establishment ball and perhaps have an affair with, if the chemistry was right. Indeed, one might go further than an affair; she's rich, well-born, and very beautiful! When I tell you that I've booked her for myself this evening on the Restricted list, and that I shall probably chat with her rather than torture her, well, you'll see I've been quite smitten with Miss Meredith! I keep telling myself that she's only a Visitor, and they'll have to release her one day; when she gets back to the States, I'll be the only one of her own class who knows that she was once a Playmate-except you, of course, but I'll trouble you to keep your ugly snout out of this, my friend-and I may be able to pull a little gentle blackmail on her. Who knows how it could end?
But never mind the ending, I suppose you're panting to hear about the beginning! Well, somehow, Charles-and I imagine this is an indication of the way I feel-I find myself actually a bit reluctant to tell you about this one! I mean, you wouldn't want me to tell you intimate secrets about Marjorie, any more than I'd expect you to tell me about your sister-not that my feelings about Georgy are in any way sisterly] Oh well, I've known you all my life, haven't I, old boy? And I suppose it's a bit of a pipedream to imagine that anything serious might come out of this- Georgy and I, I mean, so I'll give you at least the bare outline.
And by God, she was bare! My drawing shows the way we found her when we got into our Playroom; Quentin had arranged for her to be trussed up like that, but of course it was a complete-and very stiff-making-surprise for me. That backwards kneel isn't actually as uncomfortable as it looks; most of the weight is taken by the transverse bar across the small of her back. But she does look rather like an inside-out hoop, doesn't she, arched right back till her head's resting on the floor, and her arms strapped out along her lower legs, elbows to ankles and wrists to knees? And you'll see that she can't bring her knees any closer together; there are little cord loops holding them fixed to those rings in the floor. But then, she rather needs to be open, doesn't she? That bloody great ramrod of a dildo she's been impaled on would hardly fit into her any other way! I haven't shown you too much of her face-with her body all bent back like that I can't get everything in anyway, plus the gag hides quite a lot, too-and besides, as I've tried to explain, with this one I want my sexual gloating to be private, if you see what I mean.
Well, at the start we teased her about a bit-gave her the nipples-and-clitoris routine, till we had her squirming nicely on the dildo. We stopped before it was too late, however; Quentin wanted to put the whip across her-which he did very nicely, stirring her tits up for quite a time, as you can see in my sketch. What you can't see, Charles-because I didn't put it in-is my contribution, a little flexible two-foot switch of whalebone, all up and down the insides those lovely thighs. Well, what with one thing and another, poor Georgy was jerking about pretty energetically, and it wasn't too long before she blew up in a splendid orgasm, wriggling around on that huge dildo, and giving herself a ball.
Both of us were pretty randy by now. We unstrapped her arms and pulled her upright; then we took off her gag, and knelt facing each other, sideways on to her, and maneuvered our bodies about until our two pricks were standing vertical next to each other, in actual contact, so that they formed one double-sized bar of hot randy prick, pointing up to the ceiling. We both bent our bodies backwards, so that there was just room between our two navels for a pretty golden head to worm its way in, mouth wide open, until our two knobs had disappeared into the warmth of Georgy's mouth. Oh, Charles! What a lovely spend that was!
No, I'm sorry, I'm not going to describe any more. I'll just say we each had her in all her three openings; and we gave her the little knotted-cord scourge just about everywhere-armpits, soles of her feet, you name it, we gave it to her! Of course I enjoyed it like anything at the time; after all, I didn't just set eyes on the girl and go gaga over her all at once! The thing really started growing on me yesterday; when I got up, I just somehow knew that this girl was different. And the feeling grew and grew all day. I went to bed early on purpose-after finding out from Turun Hai that she'd come out of the infirmary after lunch; those knotted cords sting, but don't really damage a girl too much, and we didn't give her the whip and the whalebone switch for very long. I got up bright and early this morning and booked her, and she'll be waiting for me after dinner this evening.
I'll keep you posted, old friend.
As ever, Paul
LETTER NO. X
Hotel Grande Bretagne, Athens, GREECE
30 June 58
My dear Charles,
Lots of news this time! As you can see, I'm over in Athens again; spent the weekend here with the younger Oirads and the Van Dines-(a) for a party, (b) to pick up some new guests. But more of that later.
My last letter took us up to Wednesday, when I'd booked Georgy solo, after beginning to get a thing about her. Well, Charles, I would say it's quite definite now-I am interested in her. And while one can hardly expect her to take an immediate rosy view of a man who's whipped her and fucked her and buggered her and made her suck him off, she is-I think- beginning to realize that I might be genuine in what I say to her. Wait while I tell you.
She was waiting for me in my Playroom on Wednesday evening, just as I'd ordered her to be served up-naked except for a Seabrook helmet, arms strapped behind her back, and seated on the dildo-bicycle. No nettles, though I had some in the Playroom.
I started off by switching on the current and letting her have a nice easy orgasm, which I helped along by teasing her nipples with my lips and tongue. She came beautifully, shuddering on the bumping bicycle seat, with her nipples hard as little pebbles, and the breath whistling through the nose-holes in her helmet.
I kept the machine going without a stop; and this time I put my hand down to her crotch, parted her soft golden bush, and frigged her clitoris till she came again.
Then I lifted her off the bicycle-and mark you, she hadn't the faintest idea who I was yet. She told me later on that she was completely puzzled at being given two such friendly orgasms-and dead scared as to what was going to come next, though she knew, of course, that she was whip-free.
She needn't have worried. I made her kneel down and fixed her ankles at either end of a nice long spreader-bar; then I bent her forward and down, and handcuffed her wrists to the center of the bar-of course this cocked her ass up in mid-air, completely open and wide-spread. Christ, she looked beautiful, Charles, with her little brown asshole pushed up by her bent position just a little above the level of her crack, and already half-open, waiting for me....
I spent a moment or two examining her. The marks of my whalebone switch were very evident on her thighs; I licked them tenderly, making her jump and shiver in her bonds. The knots from the cord scourge had left several little colonies of tiny bruises on the cheeks of her ass but nothing serious.
I kissed her asshole for her, very gently; then I greased her up and buggered her slowly and carefully, so that she should feel no pain, and frigged her open cunt and clitoris till she came magnificently, jerking about on her spreader-bar and literally sucking me off with the bouncing of her asshole as she spent.
Then I released her, and took the Seabrook helmet off; she gasped in surprise when she saw who it was that had given her three lovely orgasms without tormenting her.
I said to her at once, "Now listen to me, Georgy! Make no mistake; there's nothing I'd rather be doing at the moment than screwing the living daylights out of you! And as long as you're a Playmate and I'm a guest Master, that's just what I'm going to do. But I want you to know that somehow, for some reason that I haven't pinned down yet, I suddenly don't want to hurt you-I want to enjoy you, and I want you to enjoy it too. I think it's something to do with the fact that you're not a permanent Playmate, and I'm not a permanent Master; and if we met in the States in a year's time, I'd like to be able to look you in the eye without feeling guilty about you. Do I make sense to you?"
She gave me a long, searching look. "Yes, I think you do," she said in a low voice. "Thank you-" And then she blushed and looked scared, and hastily added, "Master Paul!"
I grinned at her. "That's just the reaction I don't want, you ass,'" I said, and she smiled tremulously at me.
"Now, one more question," I said. "Can you think of a number between sixty-eight and seventy?" And I pointed to a low fucking-couch. She blushed scarlet, but went docilely over and lay down on her back; within the minute I was on top of her, teasing her little asshole as I sucked her sweet-tasting cunt, and shivering under the feel of her tongue lapping round my knob.
After we had spent deliciously, we started talking to each other, quite frank and easy, just as though we had in fact met at an Establishment ball, as I said in my last letter. She's been here five months-so she could be out early next year. I didn't think it wise to push my luck that first time, and didn't mention the possibility of our meeting back home. She told me she wasn't really hooked on drugs that time in Rome-just experimenting. But after her time in the Playrooms-never again!
And so on and so forth, Charles, and mind your own business!
Well, finally it was time to move on, and I said to her, "Look, it's going to cause a lot of suspicion if you go out of here completely unmarked!"
She nodded her head. "Yes, that's what I've been thinking, too!"
I went on, "So I'll have to birch that pretty little ass of yours with nettles, but I want to share it with you, Georgy -so I want you to do the same to me!"
I produced two nettle-birches, and handed one to her. She blushed again; then she grinned at me impishly, and said, "Certainly, Master Paul!" I lay face down on the couch, and told her to start.
Charles, it's the most wonderful sensation! Like a million ants biting your ass, and you go all red-hot, and you itch like sin, and it makes you R-A-N-D-Y, man, randy! Then I did her, and she gasped and writhed and squirmed till I almost came in mid-air! And finally I made her stand on two little footstools, set wide apart, and I came and stood in front of her and stuffed my cock into her little warm wet cunt; and I put my hands on the hot itching cheeks of her ass and spread them, and tickled her asshole with my forefinger-and she did the same to me. I bent my head and we French-kissed as we fucked, and we came so violently we almost fell over. And it was marvelous, Charles!
The next day I booked her again-still Restricted, of course. And just to tease her-for I'm not about to go soft, old boy-I had them arrange her standing in taut X position, with her lovely golden head drawn right back by hook affairs woven into her hair and going to a wire cable running down her back; at the bottom, the wire supported a metal crossbar set into the fold under the cheeks of her pretty little ass. This bar had perhaps a dozen short, sharp little spikes spaced along it, so that poor Georgy had to keep her head bent back-or else! And she was gagged too, plus she couldn't see who was coming in; and she moaned in terror behind her gag. It was lovely, Charles!
I gave her three smarties across the tits with a nettle-birch so that she jumped involuntarily-which pricked her ass-and she still hadn't seen who it was; then I laughed and released her, and she was furious, until she realized Playmates mustn't be furious. Then we had fun-and that's all I'm going to tell you, you old lecher!
We do seem to be establishing some sort of a rapport between us anyway. I told her I'd been invited to join Renee the next night, so I couldn't see her-and we agreed this was probably a good thing, because if the Management found out I was being lenient with her, they really would make her life a misery.
Once again, I had to give her the nettles at the end to make it look as though she'd had some real punishment; and as before, I made her use them on me-with most gratifying results for all concerned, for when I fucked her afterwards she fainted with pleasure, so that the Mongols had an unconscious body to cart away, which looked good.
Friday night, with Renee, was something else again, I can tell you! I've found out from Estelle why Renee's so severe on Diana-and is she ever severe, Charles! I was quite squeamish by the end of the session. Diana's father is the twelfth Earl, and they've lived on the same land for about four hundred years, so the Lady Diana Manners really belongs. Now Renee's great-grandfather was a tradesman called Mercier, who made a pile, and married his son to an impoverished de La Rochecombauld girl-so Renee's father was actually de La Rochecombauld-Mercier until he conveniently dropped the plebeian Mercier. The actual de La Rochecombauld family is quite genuinely aristocratic-but it's only the distaff side of Renee's family tree, which doesn't really mean much to the daughter of the twelfth Earl, as you can understand! In a nutshell, Diana-even though she's a Playmate-looks down on Renee, and was unwise enough, when she first arrived here, to let Renee see it. So Mistress Renee, spurred on by jealousy on the one hand and wounded dignity on the other, goes out of her way to be harsh with Diana.
My sketch'll give you an idea of just how harsh she is. That really is blood trickling down Diana's buttocks, on either side-not surprising, really, with that bloody great cutting-whip! And later on Renee cut her breasts up pretty badly with a long thin cane and made them bleed, too. I gather the wretched girl spends three or four nights in the infirmary after one of Renee's really thorough goings-over-and I'm not surprised!
What was so horrid, in a way, was that sex didn't seem to enter into it at all; all she wanted to do was to cause pain-at least, as far as Diana was concerned. Though Tania did manage to get her jollies once or twice. That's Tania that Renee is straddled across, strapped out on her back along the bench with her head hanging down to the floor; turn the picture round, and you'll recognize her-you've had a sketch of her already, with Robin Thompson. Renee always has another Playmate around when she does Diana, because she realizes she gets so worked up that unless she has someone else there to act as a safety-valve, she'd either do Diana some real crippling damage, or at the very least bring the session to a premature close.
In the sketch, Tania's just had a good attending-to. Renee scourged the insides of her thighs pretty effectively as you can see-there's the scourge discarded on the floor just beyond the bench-and then produced a most ingenious dildo, the likes of which I'd never seen before. I've left it sticking out of Tania's cunt, so that you can get the general idea, Charles. It's a right-angled affair, each arm being the size of a good fat prick, about seven inches long. Renee just stuffed one end smartly into the wretched Tania, and mounted the other arm herself. Now if you think about it, Charles, you'll see that Renee has to do all the action, and she just goes up and down on the thing, and fucks herself nicely. But the one who doesn't do the action -Tania-finds that the leverage of the right-angled construction ensures that her arm merely bangs painfully from side to side in her cunt, so that she experiences a horrid bruising effect with her orgasm. That's why I've drawn her with her eyes all rolled up in her head; she had, in actual fact, just about passed out when Renee finished her spend.
You may be wondering what / got out of the evening- Well, I had a nice long, deep fuck with Tania, still tied out on the bench as I've shown her; and I was able to use those small, firm tits of hers as handholds to pull myself back and forth. Then I had a really most rewarding sixty-nine with Renee; she certainly has a most persuasive tongue in her head! And finally, after the two Playmates had been carted off, Renee got me to fuck her; and rather to my surprise, she doubled her legs back so that her thighs were up over my shoulders, and I couldn't have gotten any deeper into her. I really fucked her hard, as though she were just a young kid and, by God, Charles, she thoroughly enjoyed it, sobbing and crying and scratching at my back like mad.
But that came later. I haven't told you half the things that she did to Diana yet. As you can see from my picture, she'd had the wretched girl stretched out somewhat in the same fashion Robin had Tania-face down on the floor, ankles pinioned wide apart, upper part of the body pulled almost vertical by the wrists, and a really tight cinch round the waist making the whole body bend backward like a well-pulled bow. The waist-belt has just those two cords pulling it down to the floor-ring; you'll recall that Robin Thompson had a leather thong with a couple of dildoes on it when he did Tania, but there was nothing between Diana's legs, so that Renee was able to stand astride her body and whip her on the open cunt without interference. She did this throughout the evening whenever the fancy took her; and every time Diana would scream on a high note, like a child in agony.
She fainted at least three times, but Renee merely stuffed smelling salts under her nose and brought her round again. I tell you, Charles, it was a much more brutal scene than I care for. I don't go for all that blood; and poor Diana's ass was just a solid shiny red at the end-far worse than my drawing shows-and her tits weren't in much better shape, either.
Renee wasn't about to let me in on her act with Diana, but she did hand Tania over to me a couple of times during Diana's rest periods. The first time, she handed me a sort of strap with three thongs, and suggested I smarten Tania's tits up for her. Well, poor kid! I was in such a state, what with Diana's screams and all the blood and so on, that I really hit her far too hard-and made her pass out too, after only four strokes. But I think it made Renee rather respect me, you know!
The second time was when I got to fuck her; how she carried on when I gripped hold of her swollen, aching breasts, and used them as handholds!
In the end, it was obvious that Diana couldn't take any more, so Renee rang for the Mongols, and both the wretched girls were carted out; as soon as they'd gone, Renee gave me a surprisingly youthful fuck, as I've already told you and then we called it a day-actually, none too soon for me, Charles!
The next day, we pushed off to Athens for a party that a big Greek tycoon was giving. Chateau Oirad pretty well has carte blanche invitations to all the Greek society wingdings such as this one, and Dorbon felt we'd better be represented-he thinks this guy likely to get the Democratic nomination in 1960, and it does no harm to keep on speaking terms with a possible President of the U.S. of A.! So Ginghis and Estelle went, and they asked Quent and Marcia and me to come and keep them company.
An exhausting bloody affair it was, Charles; we didn't get to bed till four in the morning. Far too much to eat and drink; the keynote all the way through was vulgar lavishness-the Greek had had the top tenor flown in from La Scala in Milan, and a couple of ballet dancers from the South of France-that sort of thing. And he was very attentive to the Senator's wife in a rather oily, Greek sort of way that I don't think went over too well with the Senator. Anyway, it was an interesting experience, and I'm glad I went.
We all rested up yesterday till the evening, when we took in a film; I spent most of the afternoon doing my drawing-and here's another example of how nice it is to have money, Charles! I mentioned this morning to Quent (who'd been watching me work on the picture) that I'd have to take the thing back to the island after all, to get it color-photoed for Renee. "Nonsense!" he said, and rang up the Oirad photographic supplier here in Athens, who sent round a lovely reflex camera on loan for the day, with a couple of color-plates, i.e., quite a lot of extra work and personal attention from him, just so that an Oirad whim should be satisfied, and this letter can leave today rather than tomorrow! But then, the Oirad whims always are satisfied, and that's why I feel I have to be very cautious about Georgy Meredith. I just feel it wouldn't be wise to let them find out I have a special interest in her.
Ginghis and Estelle have just left for the airport to collect their houseguests-Count Georg Ahrenfels and his wife Alicia. He's a minor scion of the old Austrian Imperial House, and apparently both he and his wife are well-known among the cognoscenti as enthusiastic sadists though, curiously, it seems that they and the Oirads had never met until last winter, when Ginghis ran into them (literally!) on the ski-slopes at Miirren. They'll be with us about a week, I gather; and I can't tell you anything more about them at the moment, because nobody really knows them yet. Even Ginghis and Estelle only know them from just those few days skiing.
Well, that's it for now, old pal.
Be well, Paul
LETTER NO. XI
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
3 July 58
My dear Charles,
We've had a most unpleasant tragedy here, and the whole routine of the Chateau's been disrupted.
I told you in my last letter that we were meeting a couple of Ginghis' houseguests in Athens-a Count Georg Ahrenfels and his wife. Well, at three o'clock this morning, Dorbon booted them out of the Chateau, bag and baggage -we knew some emergency must have occurred when we heard the seaplane taking off-and a couple of Playmates are in the infirmary under intense care. I gather one of them may even snuff out.
I don't know the exact details, of course; and I can hardly go round asking for information like a bloody reporter! But Quentin's told me quite a bit; he's utterly disgusted about the thing, though it was a bit of a shock to find out what was bothering him more than anything was the dead loss of something like fifteen thousand dollars since I gather neither of the girls is going to be much use again, as a Playmate. I've also had semi-illuminating chats with Turun Hai and Dr. Kumar, so I've been able to piece together something reasonably close to what must have happened-though of course only the Ahrenfels and the two wretched Playmates know what actually took place in the Playrooms last night.
First, I'd better sketch in the background as far as I know it. We flew back from Athens on the afternoon of Monday the thirtieth, having collected the Ahrenfels couple. Seven passengers was a bit much, even for the Oirads' supermodern seaplane-but Ginghis solved that neatly by off-loading the pilot and flying the bloody thing home himself. He's quite a lad, is our Ginghis!
That night, as an introduction to the pleasures of Chateau Oirad, the two younger Oirads and the two Ahrenfels did Anna von Richter very thoroughly-so thoroughly that even her incredible powers of resistance gave out, and she was finally removed unconscious. I must say, four Masters/Mistresses to one Playmate seems a bit much!
On Tuesday, they split up-Ginghis took Alicia, and put Wanda Schmidt through her paces; while Estelle and Georg worked their anti-Semitism off on Ruth Hacohen-and a good time was had by all (except, I gather, the two Playmates, who had both passed out by the end of the evening, and are both being kept in the infirmary until later today.)
Well, yesterday Ginghis encouraged the Ahrenfels to run their own session. (And mark you, Charles, apart from being obviously severe performers, there was nothing to indicate there was anything actually wrong with them.) Georg chose Carlotta Montesi, and Alicia picked Lucille Delormier, a Swiss Playmate whom I suppose I must have seen around, but I couldn't pick her out in a crowd-and that's why I've shown her with her face hidden in the second drawing enclosed.
Turun Hai says they ordered them served up in quite workmanlike fashion. Alicia wanted Lucille strapped out, kneeling, on a rather frightening buggering-block which simply makes you push your ass right out to the rear, all wide open; while Georg asked for Carlotta to be straddled on a sharp-topped "carpenter's A-frame", high enough to keep her feet off the floor, so that she was supported just by the sharp ridge in her open cunt. (You'll see that's how I've shown them in the drawings; and that part at least is accurate.)
The next thing anyone knew was two hours later, when Alicia rang for her attendants. The first chap into the room didn't like what he saw at all, and summoned Turun Hai immediately. He took one look at the pools of blood and vomit, and the still, pale figure of the unfortunate Lucille, still kneeling crumpled on the buggering-block-he thought she was dead, but fortunately, not or at least, not yet; she's in terrible shape, poor girl-and he called Ginghis on the house phone immediately, and then alerted Dr. Kumar.
By the time Ginghis got down there, Alicia had strolled nonchalantly out of her Playroom and gone to look for her husband; and when Our Side appeared on the scene, the two Ahrenfels were happily contemplating the martyred body of the unconscious Carlotta.
Ginghis-who was absolutely white with rage, Turun Hai says-made a few appropriate remarks, which apparently shook our noble Austrians quite appreciably. Unfortunately, Turun Hai doesn't speak any German, so I can't give you Ginghis' exact words; but it seems clear, from what he recounted to Turun Hai while he was simmering down a bit later on, that the Ahrenfels actually appeared puzzled by the general reaction to their senseless brutality- and even tried to rib him for being chicken, which didn't get them anywhere at all!
Then Dr. Kumar arrived, and had the two girls carted off on stretchers. Ginghis held a short conversation with his father on the house phone; then he requested his two guests to accompany him to the library, which they duly did- clad only in the terry-toweling robes that are the normal Playroom costume.
Kumar told me that Dorbon came into the infirmary with a face like thunder, inspected the two mangled bodies, asked Kumar for his opinion, and then shot out again en route to the library. I've no idea what went on there-and obviously I can't ask any of the four who were present-but I wouldn't have cared to be in Georg Ahrenfels' shoes. Dorbon's lineage is a lot older than the Hapsburgs, and he actually should have been an Emperor-whereas Count Ahrenfels was merely an unimportant cousin many times removed. I imagine even a smug, conceited, self-satisfied prick like him could feel himself being cut down to size in double-quick time when Dorbon got going on him.
He gave them an hour to dress, pack, and be at the door, I gather. They found transport waiting to run them down to the dock; the seaplane had them over in Piraeus three-quarters of an hour later, and the Oirad Rolls was waiting, complete with liveried chauffeur, to run them to the Grande Bretagne. Quentin says that Dorbon would never forget his manners, even at a time like this-but the Ahrenfels would find, when they reached the hotel, that they definitely did NOT have the Oirad protectzia, and would in fact get a very cold reception.
Have a look at the drawings now, Charles-and remember, I don't know what actually went on-so I've put it into a we-see-her-here format, which you have to take with a grain of salt!
The first one's Carlqtta-and if you think it's easy to do that double-image stuff, with the mirror behind her, well, just you try it! I've shown Georg in those riding boots and breeches merely because I don't have the least idea what he looked like stripped-and anyway, I think it looks very Masterly. The equipment's genuine enough; most of it is stuff that Ahrenfels brought into the Playroom with him and left there when he was booted out by Ginghis-the buttock-spikes, the pincers, the spike-mat, the spiked prick-apron, the cigar. I've allowed myself a bit of artistic license here and there; the spikes and pincers weren't, of course, actually waiting for him on his arrival, as I've shown them, but never mind. Here we go then, Charles, with my version of Carlotta: "We see her here but a few moments after the Mongols have bound her on her incredibly painful throne. Her widespread legs have no support; the whole weight of her body is borne by the tender regions of her lovely cunt-fhe biting pressure of the sharp, hard ridge is already almost unbearable to the lovely Italian, who writhes in agony as the cruel Count enters the Playroom for his monstrous session.
"A dozen frightful blows from the heavy bullwhip in his hand will leave as many bleeding wounds across the beautiful buttocks; her frantic jerkings on the cutting ridge, under the stimulus of the brutal whip, will start the blood trickling down her thighs from the poor mangled cunt; and the unhappy Carlotta will lapse briefly into oblivion.
"But her respite will be short; the acrid bite of smelling salts will bring her to her senses, and she will find that now her arms are high above her head, roped tightly to a ceiling-hook; in her poor innocence, she will be grateful that at last she can relieve the pressure on her tortured cunt to some small degree. Alas! Poor Carlotta! Those vicious spikes will now come into play.. .. Slowly, relentlessly, and murderously painfully, the Count will drive them deep into the bleeding buttocks in the form of his initials-G upon the left buttock, A upon the right; he will then thrash her into insensibility with a heavy cane, on top of the spike-heads themselves, so that their ghastly work is magnified a thousandfold. For the rest of her life, poor Carlotta will bear the hateful initials in the form of dimpling scars where each savage spike was driven in.
"Revived once more with smelling salts, the now half-crazed Playmate will hear her own screams as if from a distance, as Count Ahrenfels traces curious and intricate arabesque-like patterns over her lovely breasts and belly with the red-hot tip of a glowing cigar. He nips the pattern in with horrid precision, using the sharp pincers up and down the throbbing flesh, causing countless little contused wounds as the soft skin is broken between the iron jaws.
"Another half-dozen blows from the monstrous bullwhip cut deeply into her tortured breasts; and again she faints. When consciousness returns, she finds she is spread-eagled on the couch, her ass resting on a little mat of sharp steel spikes. Count Ahrenfels, naked now and roaring like any bull, is advancing upon her; and she will see with horror that his huge angry prick juts out from a hole in the center of a little leather pad all covered with similar steel spikes; their burning caress on the poor martyred cunt and thighs will soon drive her back into insensibility.
"The senseless martyrdom is over. Ahrenfels withdraws from the mangled body, throws a robe over himself, and turns to greet his wife as she enters the Playroom!"
There you are, Charles! As fine a piece of purple prose as you'll meet anywhere! Now I'll give you Lucille-which really is mostly fantasy. Alicia was nowhere near as inventive as her husband, and seems just to have gone on and on flogging her wretched Playmate until the blood simply poured from her body. And as for the bit at the end about Alicia's orgasm, well, that's sheer invention, of course, though I'm sure it reads very beautifully! Here goes, then: "Prince Ginghis had taken Countess Alicia, in all good faith, on an explanatory tour of the Playrooms and their appurtenances; and it was he himself who had suggested to the statuesque Austrian that much good fun might be obtained from the skillful use of the buggering-block to which poor lucille is now rigidly attached.
"He had personally selected a two-pronged dildo for the Countess' use, with a jocular reference to the need for moderation; for a Playmate rendered unconscious by the pleasures of a long deep double-rape is in no shape to pleasure her Mistress! Had he been asked, he would have produced a tenderizing hairbrush very willingly-but one armed with slim steel teeth no more than one-sixteenth of an inch in length. Such a weapon was often used in the Chateau to induce immediate sensitivity on thigh or buttock; it produced a severe and intense pricking sensation, but there was no wounding effect, unless the strokes were delivered in dragging fashion, when lightly-bleeding scratches were produced.
"But the Oirad hairbrush bears no resemblance to the weapon now being wielded by Alicia Ahrenfels! Twenty-four large spikes, spaced well apart, leave twenty-four appreciable puncture wounds at every stroke. Lucille screams helpless in her bonds after only two strokes have been delivered. ... Four-and-twenty such strokes will shred the lovely ass and thighs to red and bleeding ribbons; and despite the most expert ministrations in the infirmary, the shattered flesh will finally heal into a mass of shapeless scar-tissue, like an ill-ploughed field. One of Lucille's most beautiful attractions will be gone forever.
"The horrid tale is not yet told. Alicia Ahrenfels will mount the unconscious body in reverse, bestriding her victim like a horsewoman facing her mount's rump. She will then reach forward and massage the poor helpless cunt with a steel-wool pad till the blood gushes from the mangled lips, and the dainty clitoris is shredded right away.
"This red ruin accomplished, Alicia flogs the unconscious body for ten long minutes, using a cutting-whip from shoulder to ankle till everything is a solid mass of shining bloody red.
"At last her cold nature is aroused as she contemplates her terrible handiwork; she reverses the whip, and drives the heavy handle deep into the little asshole, rupturing the tender inner membrane. Then Alicia seats herself primly upon the couch's edge, opens her legs, and titillates her clitoris with one slim forefinger until a swift and tiny orgasm occurs. This has been her pleasure for the evening-one spasm five seconds in duration, and one Playmate forever ruined-"
It's all very well making a giggle out of it, Charles-but it is actually really rather horrid. Kumar says Lucille will never be a real woman again; that bloody woman's steel-wool pad has literally torn her cunt to ribbons. As I write she's still very critically ill, and may not ever recover. Carlotta's in better shape-physically; but mentally, she's gone slightly round the bend, and Kumar won't guarantee that she's going to get back to normal. So, just as Quentin says, they really have lost two Playmates for good and all; and Ginghis'll have to go out on the warpath again to bring the numbers back up. He's pretty well taking the blame, anyway, since they were his guests.
I get the cold shudders when I think that Georgy might have been one of them. It seems odd, but I'm actually thankful she was in the infirmary. Quentin had given her a session on Tuesday, so she wasn't even listed yesterday morning, thank God!
Well, I think I've just got time to tell you about my own activities. . . .'As you know, we got back here on Monday afternoon, and Turhn Hai actually came and asked me if I wanted a Playmate for that evening-which was decent of him.
I chose Alix McLean, the Scots girl; she was on the Restricted list, but I didn't mind. She's a handsome little bitch-quite small, short Grecian nose, freckles, and a most unusual combination of grey eyes and sand-colored hair. A lovely trim figure-and I'd been meaning to have her for some time.
Well, I had her served up in quite an enticing fashion, Charles-on a spreader-bar, kneeling, with her wrist-cuffs clipped onto the same end-eyelets as her anklets; and as an extra spicy bit, I'd had them put on a tight leather waist-belt, with cords at either side running down to the center eyelet on the spreader-bar, and pulled really tight-so that her back was hollowed to the limit, and her ass stuck right out as a result.
She'd been beautifully whipped at her last session, and her slim little buttocks were striped with at least a dozen lovely purple welts. She looked quite delicious, Charles, with her asshole sticking out a bit, half-open, and all fresh and pink-lined, just begging to be buggered!
Before I gave it to her, I took a knotted-cord scourge and doubled five of the cords back, leaving only one free. Then I straddled her kneeling body, facing her ass, and whipped her asshole a hundred times with the end-knot on the cord. I'd cleared with Turun Hai that this wouldn't be regarded as breaking the rules. Did she ever carry on when I gave her the old six inches up the ass! Her hole was all tender and swollen, and she was really feeling it! Lovely, Charles!
Then I nettle-birched her a bit, loosening the waist-cords so that she could wriggle about-which made a nice spectacle. Next, I had her suck me off, and for this I strapped her out on a bench with her head hanging down over one end. Have a look at Tania's position in that drawing of Renee doing Diana; it was just like that. I knelt down in the appropriate position and told her to get cracking. Well, she knew she was going to have to swallow me upwards, which I suppose is always a bit alarming for a girl in bondage-not knowing whether she's going to choke on the spunk or not-so to take her mind off her miseries I massaged her breasts and belly with nettles while she was doing me. And did she ever make those cords creak as she struggled to get free!
For the final act I put her on the spike-horse, lying forward, with her ass hanging over the end, and her legs pulled up and forward as far as possible; I was going to fuck her, you understand. Turun Hai had suggested I try out the latest version of the spike-horse; in the conventional model, the spikes come out through the leather slowly, as one turns a handle and so expands the "spike-drum" inside. In this new version, you press a lever, and the spikes shoot out all at once with a Bang! They are a sixteenth of an inch into the Playmate's body before she knows what's what!
I amused myself by working the mechanism two or three times-drawing a healthy reaction from Alix every time; and then I fucked her. Yes, Charles, of course the spikes were sticking out at the time!
I think I must have her again-those pocket-sized little numbers always seem to feel it so delightfully when a big chap gets going on them!
Well, I'm running out of time, and the seaplane's due away soon. So I'll put the rest of my doings off till my next letter. I had a lovely time with Jackie Maitland on Tuesday, which I know you'll want to hear about. Of course, last night, when all the Ahrenfels hoo-ha was going on, yours truly had turned in early, so I missed it. But thank God they hadn't picked Georgy!
A bientot, mon vieux, Paul
LETTER NO. XII
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
9 July 58
My dear Charles,
I got a bit out of sorts in my last letter, I'm afraid. Obviously, I had to tell you about the Ahrenfels and what they did-which is still disrupting the Chateau, by the way. Ginghis left this morning in a pretty black mood, to start rounding up a couple of replacements-and his departure's left the Little Princesses in tears. I've told you how much they adore him. And Estelle's down in the dumps, too. I suppose that in all decency the first thing I've got to do today is tell you how the two victims are.
Well, Lucille Delormier will live, which is a relief; but the poor girl's still in the infirmary and won't be out for some time. She's still a pretty awful mess between her legs, with a catheter up into her bladder, and she's being fed intravenously-you'll remember Alicia Ahrenfels pushed a whip-handle into her, and split her asshole; Kumar had to sew her up, and she mustn't have a bowel movement till she's properly healed.
Carlotta Montesi is walking wounded, you might say, and is healing up reasonably well-though those spikes are going to leave dreadful scars on her buttocks-but she's not improving much mentally, and goes into hysterics whenever one of the Masters tries to talk to her.
It's quite obvious that neither of them has any future as a Playmate; and Quent says Dorbon's already making arrangements for them to go to a rather nice old Sheik friend of his-not the one in Saudi Arabia, who's quite a keen amateur sadist himself. This one's a fatherly old bird, who'll use them mostly as housekeepers to help look after his brood of grandchildren; about all they'll have to do in the Playmate line is suck the old thing off once or twice a week.
There are still some loose ends to tie up about l'affaire Ahrenfels, but if I don't bring you up to date now about my own goings-on, I see I never will! So here-quite briefly -is how I did Jackie Maitland on Tuesday last.
I was thrilled to find her name on the Full list in the library that morning; and I hastened to book her, together with $ star against her name for a little chat with Turun Hai.
So, Charles, when I got down to my Playroom, there she was all ready and waiting for me. There's a big wooden half-wheel affair that isn't often used; Turun Hai had set this up vertically, and Jackie was bound face up along the rim. They'd sat her on a sort of split bicycle-seat thing sticking out horizontally halfway up the rim on one side; this had the effect of keeping her buttocks parted and opening up her cunt.
She had one of Dorbon's Chinese suppositories high up inside her rectum, which didn't give her much peace; and as she squirmed about on the seat, she was getting the full effect of a nice hard rubber dildo in her cunt. Her legs were tied back on either side of the wheel, so that she couldn't get her feet onto the floor, which would have made things easier for her. Her arms were drawn back on either side of the wheel too, and this pushed her lovely big firm breasts up-the curve of the wheel, and the height of the bicycle-seat, made them in fact the highpoint of her body; beyond them, her head lay on the downward curve of the wheel. She was gagged, of course; and how she gurgled at me as I stepped forward with a slim little two-foot whalebone switch, and started teasing her nipples so that they'd stand up stiff and make a better target!
I only gave her eight-she didn't seem to want any more, and I don't think I could have stood any more-I was throbbing and twitching all over the place, and nearly coming in mid-air! So I undid her, and lifted her off the bicycle-seat with its dildo-which had made her spend pretty copiously, though I couldn't tell how often. Then I handcuffed her hands behind her back, took the gag out of her mouth, and told her to suck me off.
What a lovely picture she made, with those eight angry welts across those magnificent breasts of hers! She dropped to her knees and started beseeching me, tears running down her face, "Oh, Master Paul, please-mercy, mercy! Anything you say, Master Paul, anything ... but, please.. . that thing up my ass! Oh, please, please!..."
"Well, suck me off quickly, Jackie," I said, "and then we'll see." Her head flew to my crotch at once; and within the minute I was coming furiously inside her soft mouth, with her tongue working away desperately at my knob.
Then she was frantically begging me again to have the tormenting ginger taken out of her body; and I told her that I'd expect nothing but the fullest cooperation from her for the rest of the evening, and she was babbling, "Yes, yes, Master Paul!" and uttering little shrieks of pain. Really, it was the most exciting scene, Charles! So I rang for the Mongols, and they took her out and flushed the suppository out of her; when they brought her back, all white and shaking, with those glorious breasts flaunting their eight whip-marks, I threw my prepared program out of the window, and had them tie her out in a vertical X position, in a whipping-frame.
Then I birched her lovely ass with a long, thin, whippy birch consisting of four or five switches with lots of little buds on them, hard as stones; the pain was so intense that in the end she lost control of her bladder and just stood there and peed herself. Then I threw the birch aside and went and fucked her just as she stood, giving her great upward thumps that lifted her off her feet; finally she started to cry out with pleasure and I could feel her cunt gripping my prick, and I came deliciously, high up inside her.
My spunk leaked out of her in big stringy driblets when I withdrew, and somehow this excited me enormously. I picked the birch up and gave it to her across her belly until she was hoarse with screaming, and I went stiff again, sooner than I would have believed possible. This time I took her down from the X-frame and flung her onto the couch and made her hold her legs right back and up and wide apart, with her hands on her ankles; then I fucked her again, and this time she fainted-and by God, Charles, I wasn't far off it myself! I did feel randy that evening!
As I've already told you, I missed the fireworks the next night. After my highly exhausting performance with Jackie, I felt an early night was called for, so the first I knew of anything being amiss was when I was wakened by the seaplane taking off in the early hours of Thursday morning.
That day was full of rumors, of course, and at lunch-time Dorbon announced that the Playrooms would be closed that evening, and that he would address us in the library after dinner. He told us, quite simply, what had happened, and asked everyone to be very careful in the future about their selection of guests. Here he paid me a very wonderful compliment, Charles. He bowed over in my direction, and said, "We would be fortunate indeed if all our guests proved to be as pleasant and talented as our friend Paul, whom I sincerely hope we shall see many times in the future." He finished by saying, "Tomorrow, we will resume our normal pattern; but since we are temporarily two Playmates under strength, may I ask you all to refrain from booking more than one Playmate per person?"
Well, the next day-Friday-I booked Georgy Meredith. It had been over a week since I'd had her, so I thought it wouldn't look too obvious. She was Restricted, of course, after her Tuesday session with Quentin-who'd given her a pretty thorough birching, I found, both back and front!
To allay any possible suspicions, I had her served up on the dildo-bicycle, just like the first time I'd booked her by myself; and once again I had her put in a Seabrook helmet, so that she shuddered with apprehension when she felt my fingers on her nipples, and started bouncing on the dildo as I switched the current on.
I gave her two orgasms without her knowing who it was tormenting her that evening; for the second one, I used a nettle-birch all over her pretty little ass, so that I was more than ready for her when I switched the bicycle off and released her from her helmet and her bonds. We had an absolutely glorious sixty-nine; she'd already come twice on the bicycle, and it took me a bit of time to work her up again, so I was coming for the second time into her lovely mouth when she finally burst into her third orgasm.
Then I let her lie quietly in my arms for a bit, and I told her how frantically worried I was at the thought that she might have been picked by one of the Ahrenfels brutes. She looked at me out of those lovely big eyes of hers; then she said, quite softly, "You really do care, Paul, don't you?" and I just nodded my head, and she started to cry, and said I was the only person who'd made her feel like a human in the last five months-or even longer. Even while she was whooping it up in Rome she wasn't really enjoying herself-and so on and so forth; and we found ourselves drawing a bit closer, Charles. I think she's suddenly realized that after a year in the Playrooms she's going to find life a bit difficult back in the States; and slowly, she's coming to think that I might be the answer to the maiden's prayer. Reasonably personable, family a bloody sight older and more class tnan hers (her father can't possibly raise any grumbles, except money-wise, and dammit, Charles, we're not millionaires, but we're not actually paupers), and above all, someone who knows about her time at Chateau Oirad and can accept it. So, as I say, we moved a bit closer, and that's all I'm going to tell you, except that she insisted that I give her another couple of orgasms-once fucking her, and once buggering her-for the simple reason, which I find highly satisfying, that, "I like doing it with you."
Next morning-last Saturday, this was-we found a chit from Ginghis on the board in the library, pointing out that we were temporarily short of at least two Playmates, and that the Restricted list had got a bit out of balance and was too long. It would therefore be helpful if we could agree to have another blue-film orgy that night, and leave those on the Full list unwhipped. The situation would right itself early the following week, when several of the current Restricted Playmates would have finished their time, and be transferred back to the Full list.
Well, naturally we all agreed; and imagine my pleasure when I found that Ginghis had supplied four Playmates for our amusement-Laura Johnson, the English girl; Ulla Bengstrom; Alix McLean; and Georgy. Shant bore you with a blow-by-blow account, Charles, but I must describe one highlight for you-Laura Johnson with five pricks in her body at once. Tasty, eh? Ginghis and I-we turned out to have the thinnest pricks-knelt down right up close to each other, and then bent backwards, exactly as Quentin and I had when we made Georgy suck us off together that very first time. Only this time it was Laura's cunt, not her mouth. Ginghis is a bit of a whiz at Yoga, and he bent himself back much further than I did, though I went back further than I thought possible, with Laura leaning forward along my chest. Then Quent jumped aboard, behind Laura; and he managed to worm himself down onto Ginghis' backwards-bent body till he could get his prick up Laura's ass-so that made three. And then Dorbon and Carlos stepped forward and knelt right up round my head, and put their pricks together so that Laura could just get their knobs into her wide-open mouth and use her tongue on them. And away we went! ...
Somewhere during that evening I fucked Georgy rather beautifully, with everyone looking on and applauding. Flat on her back, with her arms wide-spread above her head and Quentin kneeling on the palms of her hands, and Carlos and Ginghis holding her legs doubled back and fully parted, so that her cunt looked about three inches wide. I was plumbing her right down to her womb, and she was shrieking, and everyone thought it was "Oh-God-I'm-being-raped!" shrieks, and only she and I knew it was really "Oh-God-isn't-this-ecstasy!" And in the middle I looked into her eyes and mouthed "I love you" at her; and she pursed her lips and made a silent kiss at me. Then we came and came and came, and everybody laughed and clapped.
I gave myself a holiday next day; I didn't even get up until two P.M. Ginghis was pretty late himself, and was still having brunch when I tottered in. He asked me to join him next day when he proposed to do Diana Manners before taking off on his hunting trip-and would I very much mind doing one of my beautiful drawings, of course!
And here it is, Charles! The wretched Diana spent quite a lot of the session in the position I've shown, standing spread-eagled on those two pillars, or blocks, or whatever you want to call them. Actually, it's a sort of "do-it-yourself X position; for even though her ankles are chained to the pillars, there's enough slack to let her feet slip off if she moves her legs about-and she did, Charles!
That carriage-whip that Ginghis is using up and down her back doesn't actually cut, but it stings like hell! And every time she loses her footing she just hangs there by the wrists till she can find the pillars again.
It's quite a cunning position, too; the whole body's vulnerable, and the extra height-those pillars are about two feet high, I suppose-makes it easy to get the lash up into the open cunt. About the only thing you can't do easily is get yourself sucked off; you can fuck her quite conveniently, bugger her too, for that matter-by standing on a little footstool, but you'd have to climb to the top of a stepladder to get Frenched.
I was somewhat relieved to find that Ginghis didn't treat her nearly as harshly as his stepmother had. He, of course, doesn't suffer from any feeling of family inferiority, as Renee does; to an Oirad, it's the twelfth Earl that's the upstart! Also, he's a man! So Diana found herself being sexed up quite a bit, rather than just being tortured, as she had been with Renee.
The other pair in my drawing need no introduction, I imagine. I told you the Little Princesses were breathtaking- and here they are, Charles, stark naked, each with a finger up the other's cunt. I reckon they must have tossed each other off at least three times during the evening-randy little bitches! And, of course, this time I got to screw them. I more or less had to, because if Ginghis had laid them-and he never has-it would have been incest. So I had three super-duper fucks that night-twice up the lovely, hot, tight little cunts of the Princesses (and how I thrilled to hear them cry out under me as they came in streams), and once in Diana, with Ginghis ploughing her vigorously up the asshole. She was being bounced up and down on my prick, gasping with the sensation of her coming orgasm, and giving out little shrieks as one or the other of us would press on some overtender whip-mark-and then that thin body tensing and quivering and finally bursting into a shattering orgasm that had us shooting off in sympathy into her twitching cunt and asshole.
Later on, we reversed her in the whipping-frame, hanging her up by her ankles and chaining her hands to the pillars. Then we gave the Princesses a couple of nettle-birches, put them up on two footstools, and let them get to work. And that was fun to watch, Charles-especially when they got worked up, and wanted their jollies. For that, one of them arranged a couple of stools in front of Diana, so that when she stood on them her crotch came nicely at the level of Diana's mouth-while the other kept up a gentle massage with her nettle-birch up and down the insides of the Playmate's twitching thighs until she'd sucked the Little Princess off nicely. Then Jeanne replaced Marie (or Marie, Jeanne-no one could be sure), and Diana had to lick and suck furiously at the second cunt, while the nettles bathed her whip-marked ass in liquid fire.
For some unknown reason, I got awfully tired during the session; and by the end of the evening I could scarcely keep my eyes open, so I don't honestly remember everything that happened to our little Playmate. I do know that nobody made her bleed this time, for which I was rather grateful; I'd been pretty horrified at the way Renee cut her up ten days earlier. One doesn't mind a tiny little trickle perhaps, from a nice juicy welt across the ass, but not whole areas all raw and bloody, for God's sake!
I can remember one little scene which caused a lot of amusement-except possibly to Diana! The object of the exercise was for her to suck Ginghis off; and we made her kneel on a big square footstool, with her hands tied wrists to elbows behind her back, and bend forward and down till her head was hanging over the edge, thus allowing her to get at Ginghis who was kneeling just in front of her. Then I climbed aboard and straddled her, facing backwards; when bent forward I found myself inspecting her cunt and asshole from a range of six" inches-a position which afforded me the perfect opportunity to tweak out curly black hairs from her private parts with a little pair of tweezers. This doesn't sound very painful, Charles, but you just try it in your own crotch, and then imagine it being done to a girl's cunt-lips, time after time in the same place! Yes, "Ouch!" is the answer! And while this was going on, the Little Princesses were happily whipping the soles of her feet with thin springy bamboo switches. I fear she took quite a time to bring Ginghis to orgasm, with all those outside distractions!
I'm going to stop now. I'm very tired, and I'll tell you why next time.
As ever, Paul
LETTER NO. XIII
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
12 July 58
Well now, Charles,
I don't know if last Wednesday's letter read in a coherent fashion. I certainly hope so, but when I tell you I was under the influence of drugs at the time ... ? Actually, that's a load of bull, but I'd better tell you the story before you begin to get alarmed!
When I woke up on Tuesday morning, after that very pleasant session diddling Diana Manners with Ginghis and the two kids, I found I was so shagged I could hardly move. I really felt awful, Charles! So I rang Dr. Kumar and asked him to come and have a look at me. He came up to my room and prodded, and looked, and listened; and then he asked me-quite seriously-how many orgasms I'd had since I arrived on the island.
Well, I hemmed and hawed a bit; it's not the sort of question one expects to be asked! Finally I allowed as how it must be something over sixty. "Exactly!" said old Kumar. "And you've been here how long?" So I worked that out, and it came to a day short of five weeks. "There's your answer," he said. "You've been keeping up an average of twelve times a week for five weeks; and even a great healthy bull like you can't keep that up forever!"
I looked him straight in the eye. "Dr. Kumar," I said, "Chateau Oirad is the sort of Arabian Nights dream that happens once in a million years! There's just no way in which I'm going to miss it. Somehow or other, you've got to keep me fighting-fit for the next three weeks, and I don't care how you do it! So what do you say to that?"
He smiled-a little, brown, friendly smile. "If I were your age, I'd say exactly the same," he said. "I'll tell you what I can do for you. You give up the next two nights completely, so that I can give you the 'twenty-four and thirty-six' treatment; and I'll guarantee you'll be as strong as ever for the rest of your stay here. You're just exhausted, Mr. Lester, and that's all there is to it. What you really need is a month's complete idleness in the sun, with no women at all; but I don't suppose . . ." (here he smiled at me again) ". . . you'd pay any attention to me if I suggested that, so I'm not going to! But the 'twenty-four and thirty-six' will recharge you sufficiently to keep you going for the next three weeks. So that's my prescription; it involves the loss of two nights," and here he became serious. "But if you don't accept that, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you-"
"Fair enough," I said. "What's involved in this 'twenty-four and thirty-six' thing of yours?"
"We knock you out for twenty-four hours today, around noon; while you're unconscious, we give you massive testosterone injections every four hours, and drip a solution into your veins which will build up your reserve of energy. You'll wake up just in time for lunch tomorrow; you'll be feeling better, but still a bit weak. You'll stay in your room, resting quietly-you can read, write a letter, take a bath, that sort of thing. We give you a light supper around 6:30 P.M.; and then at eight o'clock we knock you out again-this time for thirty-six hours-and feed you more testosterone injections and intravenous drip.
"The whole thing'll be over on Friday morning; you'll wake up round your usual time, hungry as a hunter, but really feeling your old self again. The only unpleasant effects will be a pair of slightly sore buttocks from the testosterone injections, and two small holes in your arms from the drip-needle. But you'll find you'll give a very good account of yourself in the Playrooms that same evening, and I can promise you the effect will last for at least your remaining three weeks here."
So there it was, Charles. Obviously, I had no choice but to accept. I couldn't possibly just lie in bed and miss all the fun of the Playrooms, could I?
I rang Ginghis, to say goodbye. I knew he was leaving at crack of dawn next morning, when I'd still be unconscious. He came up and chatted with me for a bit; then he said goodbye; he didn't think he'd get back from his trip before I left-unless he was incredibly lucky. He finished off by saying, "Well, see you next year, Paul! If Quent forgets to invite you, you just come anyway, and Estelle and I'll put you up." Which was extremely nice, I thought.
At noon, old Kumar gave me a prick in the arm-that's a medical term, Charles, not a description of some Indian perversion-and I knew no more, as the saying goes.
I surfaced again just in time for a lunch of slops on Wednesday, feeling a bit woozy, but already better-just as Kumar had said I would. I had a bath, wrote my letter to you-you must tell me some time how my picture of Diana Manners came out. I don't really remember too much about it, though I know, from the condition of my paintbox, that I did at least use the damned thing!
More slops in the evening, and another knock-out injection-the big one, this time.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling really recovered, Charles. Funny little old Dr. Kumar really knows his stuff, I can tell you!
There was a note on my bedside table from Carlos and Isabella, inviting me to join them that evening and help attend to Arlette Dubois and Wanda Schmidt. I hadn't met either of these two Playmates professionally-if I can put it that way-but I had no reason to think they wouldn't be up to the general Chateau Oirad standard. So I was feeling in a pretty good mood as I went down to breakfast, hungry as a hunter, just as Kumar had promised; and by the evening, I was really rarin' to go.
The proceedings opened with a highly diverting game of Blind Man's Buff. The two girls were naked; Arlette's body -beautifully tanned, and adorned with a surprisingly voluminous jet-black bush-made a delightful contrast with Wanda's plump pink-and-white China-doll appearance. Both were wearing Seabrook helmets matching their hair-colors-black for the French girl, flaxen-gold for the German. Each wore a cuff on her left wrist; and the two cuffs were joined together by a light, strong cord some six feet long, so that each Playmate could sense the location of her adversary at the other end of the cord. I say adversary advisedly, Charles; for in her right hand, each girl carried a formidable whip-one single, thick, three-foot lash attached to a short handle. The game would only be terminated when one girl had been whipped into submission on the floor, unable to get to her feet.
The Playmates had been fully briefed, and when Carlos tapped them simultaneously on the shoulder-himself jumping back pretty rapidly out of the danger zone, I noticed-they went into action straightaway, each girl backing away to the full extent of her outstretched left arm, and feeling for her opponent with the lash of her whip.
Suddenly, Arlette jumped forward and her thong whistled through the air in a vicious blow-which was at least a yard off target. The heavy lash had sufficient momentum to curl right round in a complete circle; the unprepared Arlette received a stinging cut on her back below the left shoulder-blade, which raised a three-inch red weal on her naked flesh. Naturally, she thought the blow had come from Wanda, and she spun round, her whip-arm raised, to face where she imagined the German girl to be-just in time to meet a perfect blow across the stomach, which dropped her in her tracks as though she had been shot.
The de Madariagas and I were, of course, utterly enthralled by the delicious spectacle of the two lovely naked bodies dancing their blind dance of fear and pain at each end of the nylon cord; Isabella had already started the flow of obscenities which, in her, betokened sexual excitement. "Christ's cunting cock" and "Shit-assed fucking God" are two fairly mild samples of her style. Before long, her hands went out to grasp our two pricks; and soon Carlos and I were panting with lust under the none-too-gentle-but highly stimulating-kneadings and twistings which sent our cocks iron-stiff upon the instant.
Wanda had felt her whip connect, and knew she had landed a solid blow. She swung her arm again, but this time the lash whistled harmlessly well above Arlette, who was writhing on the floor clasping her martyred stomach. The force of her own blow threw Wanda off balance, and she tottered forward a couple of paces-to trip over Arlette's prostrate body and go crashing to the floor.
The French Playmate realized exactly what had happened, and she pulled herself together by an exercise of will power. Once she was up on her hands and knees, it did not take her long to locate Wanda's body, lying half-winded on the floor. She clambered to her feet; we watched her whip-arm come up. Two of the three blows fell squarely onto the slim blonde-bushed body-first a glancing cut along the shoulders, and then a terrible blow across the center of the soft buttocks. It could not have fallen more accurately if Arlette had been fully sighted, and had taken careful aim.
Wanda's scream of agony was filtered out by the Seabrook helmet so that only a high humming note came through the nose-holes; but we could all see that she had been badly hurt-and I must say I wouldn't have bet much on her chances, Charles, as Arlette's arm came up for what might well prove to be the coup-de-grace. They were really heavy whips, and three or four good strokes were about all that a girl could stand. But Wanda, writhing in her pain, had moved to one side; and Arlette's lash thudded harmlessly onto the floor beside her.
I found myself being wildly excited by all sorts of thoughts. A naked Playmate was a pretty exciting object per se; a Playmate in pain raised the thing to a higher level altogether, but it seemed to me that the most exciting aspect was the inexorability of it all-there was nothing, simply nothing, that a Playmate could do to alleviate her lot; when her Master wished her to suffer, she could scream, she could writhe, she could plead, but she suffered, just as much and just as long as her Master wished her to. And it seemed to me that this Blind Man's Buff game of Carlos' was a splendid refinement-making the Playmates torment each other for our amusement.
I looked across at Carlos and our eyes met; then he nodded his head purposefully at Isabella, standing midway between us, our two pricks in her hands. As he swung her round so that she was facing me, her mouth opened in an "0" of delighted anticipation. I took her by the nipples and drew her torso down; then Carlos was inside her willing asshole, and I released her at his murmured word. Then it was my turn; and I must say Carlos served her up for me in a most exciting fashion! Remember, Charles, he was standing right up close behind her, buggering her as deeply as a standing man can bugger a standing woman. Now he stepped forward, putting his feet between her legs, and planting them on the floor again way out on each side-so that Isabella found herself opened wide, with her legs wound her husband's. Then Carlos immobilized her upper torso with a high full nelson, so that her naked body was presented to me spread-eagled and temporarily helpless in the bondage of her husband's embrace.
I slid into her hot, wet cunt, and sealed off the flow of obscenities by a deep French kiss; then we began moving her purposefully up and down our twitching pricks, and our three heads went round to watch the whip-fight at the other end of the Playroom.
Both girls had taken some additional punishment while we had been mounting Isabella; I noticed, in particular, one nasty welt across Wanda's plump breasts; blood was oozing from the soft undersurface on the left, and we could see, from the way she shook her helmeted head and twitched her shoulder on that side, that the blow had hurt her seriously.
But once again, Arlette's backers lost their money! As we watched, the two whips tangled together as the hooded Playmates probed nervously forward. Wanda jerked back instinctively, fearing further pain; and to our delight, Arlette's whip was plucked from her hand, the wrist-loop sliding treacherously over her sweat-drenched flesh, and the weapon fell to the floor off to one side of the triumphant German.
Well, we knew what was coming, Charles! And we made short work of Isabella, sending her shuttling up and down our straining cocks, till we all three creamed most deliciously-our spend being nicely prolonged by the almost obscene way in which Wanda (who knew full well that Arlette was now weaponless) slowly shortened the rope between them, to bring her helpless victim into whip-range.
The French girl tried desperately to catch the murderous thong in her free right hand and thus, perhaps, turn the tables on Wanda; but once she had missed the first stroke, and the angry red weal had sprung up on her ribcage and around onto her back so that she stood semi-paralyzed by the sudden burning pain, it was clear to us all that she had lost. In her agony, she twisted round, and another solid blow fell on her naked body-a slanting cut from the top of her left buttock, running down at an angle across her pretty little ass. I couldn't help thinking of that sculpture of The Dying Gladiator, Charles; she sank slowly to the floor and half-sat, half-lay there, propped up on one arm with her helmeted head all drooping down. Wanda had felt, through the shortened cord, that Arlette had changed position; now she moved forward, and felt for her opponent's body. Then she placed herself correctly, raised her whip-and that was all for Arlette! A frightful blow across one shoulder and down her back left her lying facedown on the floor, her tortured body twitching in pain; exactly as Carlos had described, she had been whipped into submission on the floor, unable to rise to her feet.
Carlos ran forward and caught Wanda's arm just as she was about to deliver another blow to the prostrate Arlette; the game of Blind Man's Buff was over. We removed the Seabrook helmets from the two Playmates, and allowed them a few moments' respite.
But only a few moments! Playmates weren't expected to lounge about doing nothing in the Playrooms! So, five minutes later, we had overpowered the pair of them and installed them as you see them in my pretty picture, for Round Two. Wanda started quite loudly as soon as we shackled her ankles to the floor, very wide apart, and forced her up onto her tiptoes by winding a nasty little spike-brush up between her legs till it was just a mere quarter of an inch away from her tender cunt. From the very start, she suspected that she would be unable to stay up on tiptoes and keep her poor little cunt unscathed; and when Isabella started giving her the nettles all over her breasts-she's about halfway through in my drawing-Wanda pretty well gave up hope.
Now look at Arlette strapped out on that bench, with her legs held vertically and spread out by that trapeze. I'll bet you've never seen anything like that "rubber underwear" she's wearing, Charles! The actual "skeleton" of both bra and panties is made of thin strips of white plastic, quite close-fitting, but the rest is all rubber. If you look closely, you can see a sort of crisscross of rubber bands covering the breasts, so that there's a three-inch diameter "net" with the nipple in the center, and then that six-inch "dangler" of thickish rubber cord. And the same thing down in the panties-a network of rubber bands in a sort of oval shape over her cunt and asshole, with two more rubber danglers, one at the top of her cunt and one over her asshole.
Got the idea yet, Charles? I didn't until Carlos bent down and took the end of one of the nipple-danglers between his thumb and forefinger; then he pulled it, stretching it to perhaps double its original length, and then he let go. . . .
The rubber snapped back with a sharp little "Crack", catching Arlette full across the unprotected nipple, and drawing a sudden cry of pain from her. With a grin, Carlos waved me to the other side of her pinioned body, and I picked up the cord hanging from her other nipple-that's my arm you can see coming in from the edge of the drawing. My flick-shot wasn't as clean as Carlos'-which had caught the nipple absolutely bare; when my cord snapped home against its target, one or two of the little rubber bands from the net were in the way. But honestly, Charles, I don't think it gave her much protection-and in any case, over the next ten or a dozen shots I got my fair share of "naked-nipple-nicking"!
Now we had both Playmates sounding off very loudly- Wanda shrieking as Isabella's nettle-birch made her squirm, thus bringing her cunt into contact with the spike-brush (which is what I've tried to show in my picture); and Arlette yelling blue murder as her nipples swelled up under the vicious little bites of the rubber cords.
Then we changed our targets. Isabella left Wanda's plump scarlet breasts and started a gentle, steady massage up and down the insides of the parted thighs, while Carlos and I moved down to the cords hanging at clitoris and asshole. I stooped down to get a closer view of my cord arriving on its target; and I must say I nearly came in mid-air at the sight of the little half-open puckered mouth of her asshole twitching violently under the rude bite of my rubber cord! Then Carlos' rubber snapped home across the bud of her clitoris; and all previous cries were as nothing to the one that Arlette let out then!
Finally, none of us could stand it any more; Carlos cried out, "All change!" and he and I ran across to Wanda, released her from her horrid perch and sandwiched her between us, forcing her to kneel astride my recumbent body, with her sore, spike-reddened cunt impaled fair and square on my upthrust prick. Then we bent her forward, to present her pretty asshole to the eager Carlos. Meanwhile, Isabella had straddled the bench to which Arlette was bound, and was yelling out her usual string of obscenities as the well-trained Playmate started frantically hunching her sex-crazed Mistress.
Then we changed them round, with Wanda in the rubber underwear and Arlette on the spiky perch. This time, we were in no haste, having just had a lovely satisfying orgasm; and I'm afraid poor Wanda had to be revived with smelling salts twice, as we went on and on twanging those cords against her clitoris and asshole! But of course we had to leave her lively enough to suck Isabella off at the end....
Arlette had several little trickles of blood running down the insides of her nettle-reddened thighs when we took her down to sandwich her; and when Carlos stuffed his stiff prick into her cunt-all bleeding from the spikes-she just passed out. But at that stage, Charles, all Carlos and I wanted was a twin-holed receptacle for our urgent loads of spunk; we didn't care whether it was conscious or not!
Well, we called it a day after that, and had the two Playmates carted off; I must say I found it a most exciting Playroom session-partly due, no doubt, to Dr. Kumar's highly efficacious 'twenty-four and thirty-six' treatment, but I think largely because of that sexy, rubber-underwear torture, which I'd never come across before. Try it on your girl friend, you old lecher!
That's it for now.
As ever, Paul
LETTER NO. XIV
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
13 July 58
Charles-
Just a note in great haste, to tell you I'm off cruising tomorrow for ten days or so. Don't know when I'll be able to write, or where from, but I'll do my best.
The Chateau's been a bit grim since the Ahrenfels affair; and since Ginghis left on Wednesday last, Estelle's been miserable, and the elder Oirads have been pretty reserved, one way and another. So this morning Marcia and Estelle put their heads together, and we're off tomorrow, Monday, at crack of dawn-Quentin and Marcia, Estelle, the Little Princesses, and myself, in fact, all the English-speaking adults. The elder Oirads and the de Madariagas will stay home and mind the shop.
We're taking seven of the Playmates with us-Jackie, Laura, Alix, Jenny, and Georgy (Hurrah!). These five are all English-speaking anyway-and then there's Ulla Bengstrom and Ruth Hacohen, both of whom are completely fluent in English.
The Home Team are keeping the remaining six with them in the Chateau-Tania, Arlette, Wanda, and Ann (all basically non-English-speaking), and Diana and Caroline-who might have come with us, only Renee and Carlos pleaded special interest, so we're taking Ulla and Ruth instead.
The yacht's fully staffed; there's a crew of seven, gather-all Mongols. In addition we're taking along Turun Hai's Number Two Man, Noor Hachu, and nearly a dozen attendants-for of course the girls have got to be very carefully guarded whenever we're in port, or even near shore. Jackie Maitland, for example, was a champion long-distance swimmer back in South Africa, and would think nothing of slipping over the side three or four miles offshore.
The yacht accommodates ten passengers in five double staterooms. The Little Princesses, the Van Dines, Estelle, and myself account for four, and what do you know? We're putting Georgy Meredith in the fifth-as a Visiting Playmate, she's in a different category from the others anyway. Besides, there are only six single cells below decks, so it works out quite conveniently. The yacht has a small Playroom complex-one fairly large orgy salon, and three smaller rooms-reasonably well fitted out with appliances and devices, though not, of course, on the scale of the Chateau. Anyway, we're fairly confident we're going to have an entertaining time on board, one way or another!
Until we've had our conference after dinner this evening, we don't even know where we're going! Suggestions so far are:
1. Through the Corinth Canal, and up the Adriatic.
2. Corinth Canal-over to Italy-up through the Straits of Messina, and on to Capri.
3. Southeast to Syria, Lebanon, Israel, and finish off at Alexandria in Egypt. (This is my suggestion.)
4. Southwest, along the North African coast-Libya and Tunis.
Actually, I don't give a damn where we go; I love cruising- especially in Oirad-style comfort-and I'm quite happy at the thought of just pottering about for the next ten days in the sun, doing a bit of fishing, water-skiing, skin-diving, whatever's on the menu-and drinking lots of the local vino.
And Georgy, of course! . . . Her I really am looking forward to; and if I can possibly arrange it, I'm going to try and see if she can get some fun out of the cruise, and not merely just a lot of fuck--though I do assure you, my dear Mr. Mason, that I intend to ensure that she gets a lot of that, too!
So there you are, Charles! Expect your next letter when you see it; and remember, this is the sort of thing that'll be happening to you next year!
All the best, Paul
LETTER NO. XV
M.Y. TIMUR, Catania, SICILY
17 July 58
My dear Charles,
Why aren't we all multi-millionaires? This really is the way to live, you know! But I shudder to think what it all costs-not that that matters to the three families; the Van Dines alone must have investments totaling somewhere near a hundred million-and at seven percent, well, you work it out, Charles! I don't know what Carlos is worth, but Dorbon's pretty well a billionaire; and I'm sure I'm putting it low when I say the combined income at Chateau Oirad can't be less than fifty million net. Quentin told me that when Dorbon was deciding where to settle, he dickered around with various governments, and the Greeks agreed to pass a special act, exempting the inhabitants of the island from ordinary income tax, in return for the payment of a fixed annual sum. So, Greece gets the value of the Oirad spending power-and a healthy annual subsidy- and the three families don't get crippled by taxes. Everyone's happy; the Greeks knew that if they refused to strike some sort of a bargain, Dorbon would simply move on to Italy, or Lebanon, or wherever-and they'd lose the benefit of his spending power. And the three families know that if they behave nicely, and don't meddle in politics, and don't cause any scandals in Greece-they never have a Greek Playmate, for example-then they can do pretty well what they want, without being robbed by the Government.
Sorry about the financial lecture, Charles! But I'm interested to see how true it is-as far as Greece and the Oirads are concerned-that there's one law for the rich and another for the poor!
Well, you'll see from the letterhead that we're doing the Capri trip; and as I said in my last letter, I honestly don't care. I just like cruising! And this isn't a yacht, by the way; it's a floating palace! I have never dreamed that such luxury could be possible in a sea-going vessel.
There's a pair of bloody great diesel engines down in the bowels that can push us along at twenty-five knots, if necessary-though we've been strolling along at ten or twelve so far. The engine room's so beautifully soundproofed that you can't hear if the engines are going or not; occasionally you can just feel a small vibration, to let you know you're under way. She is, I gather, the only vessel of her size in the whole world that has big modern stabilizers built in. We've not had any rough weather so far, but Quentin says she rides quite beautifully even in fair-sized seas. I'm a good sailor, so I'm not worried anyway! Incidentally-and this will cheer you-Quent suddenly made a remark about having been out sailing with you on Lake Michigan, and he went on, "We'll give him a cruise on Timur next year." So he hasn't forgotten you, Charles!
Dorbon had her built in. Italy, six years ago, and she's been pretty nearly everywhere in the world since then. She's been round the Horn, big-game fishing off Australia, all over the West Indies, Japan-you name it, Timur's been there! The name's pronounced "Timm-OOR"; it's the Mongol form of "Tamerlane", the Mongol Emperor-who was Dorbon's ancestor, five or six centuries back.
I'm enclosing five or six color snaps which will give you some idea about the yacht. The bridge equipment looks like a battleship's, doesn't it? And what do you think of my stateroom, eh? Comfy, one might say!
Well, I suppose you'll want to hear about the goings-on in the Playrooms, you evil-minded brute! I'll just say first that we pushed off early on Monday, went through the Corinth Canal, and cruised peacefully across the Ionian Sea, getting in here about lunchtime yesterday. Each day, we hove to for an hour's water-skiing and general swimming, letting the Playmates join in too; Timur carries a fairly fast launch and a lovely little speedboat, and we lowered both of them, using the launch as a base for the swimmers, and the speedboat for the water-skiing. As you know, I'm not bad on water-skis, Charles, and I had the Little Princesses begging me to teach them some of my tricks. They're pretty good little performers, far better than Estelle, but then of course water-skiing isn't really an English sport, is it? Weather's too cold! Quent's got a slipped disc, so he just swam. The American girls were good-as one would expect, for it is an American sport; Marcia's a bit better than Georgy, I thought. But without a doubt, the star performer was the South African, Jackie! She was superb, and I don't think I could beat her, even at my best.
We leave Catania tomorrow, through the Straits of Messina, and next stop Naples; then over to Capri. Tonight we're going to have dinner ashore in a lush restaurant, and then go and play roulette in a private club.
That's the general background, then-and I know you're itching for me to get down to the intimate details! So here goes. . ..
My last long letter took us up to Friday the eleventh, when I helped the de Madariagas with Wanda Schmidt and Arlette. Next day I was in the library rather late-probably the last lingering effects of Kumar's 'twenty-four and thirty-six'. Anyway, there weren't very many names left on the lists, and I suppose I was lucky to have gotten someone as sexy as Caroline Bentham, even though she was Restricted. Actually, I quite welcomed the idea; the only time I'd been with her was at that Sunday orgy in the latter half of June, when she'd been bristle-fucked till she almost went out of her mind. I'd been meaning to do something with that long-legged, tawny-haired number for some time, but somehow I'd never gotten around to it.
Also, I'd been very taken with Carlos' rubber underwear the previous evening. This fitted in nicely with Caroline's being on the Restricted list; I mean, it was a perfectly permissible punishment, and I knew that if I took things nice and slow, the continued twanging of those little rubber cords would be just as severe a torture as any whip or birch could produce.
So I put a star against her name, said my piece to Turun Hai; and when I entered the Playroom that evening, there she was waiting for me, strapped down on the bench, with those lovely long legs held so wide apart that one half-expected her to split suddenly into two halves, straight up the middle!
I won't bore you with a repeat description of the rubber-underwear act, Charles; suffice it to say that she never left the bench till the Mongols came to cart her away an hour and a half later. I started off with a regular cycle of cord-snapping-left tit, right tit, asshole, clitoris, on and on in rhythmic repetition. That had her shrieking her head off. When it got too much for me, which I assure you, Charles, it very soon did-she's an extremely good-looking girl; I know I haven't done you a drawing of her yet but I will-I buggered her, rather neatly. I merely parted the crisscross net of rubber bands across her throbbing, well-smacked asshole, and stuffed my prick into her with the panties still on her.
Later, I fucked her in the same fashion; by now, she'd almost completely lost her voice from the screaming she'd been doing, and she could only make a croaking noise at the back of her throat when she saw me fitting the bristle-ring over my prick. When she came, I thought for a moment she was going to shake the bench loose from its moorings; she certainly shook me loose from mine, Charles! My word, that ring really sends a girl, and no mistake!
At the end, when it was clear she'd had enough, with the four targets all swollen and very sensitive, I took the underwear off and played with her naked body for a bit, making her come a couple of times by feather-light fingertip touches on her swollen red clitoris; and then I straddled the bench and made her suck me off. She was desperate to avoid any further punishment, and she really gave it all she had; she made me cream magnificently, and I could hear her going "Gobble-gobble-gobble" underneath me as she swallowed me down. It's always a good scene, being sucked off by a pretty girl, isn't it, Charles?
So that was Saturday, and the next day came the news about the cruise as I wrote you; so we all decided to make an early night of it, so that we could start off nice and fresh. Nothing on Sunday night, then; and off we went at crack of dawn on Monday morning. That only leaves the three nights we've had on board so far.
Our first night out, we held a "Grand Opening Orgy", which seemed an appropriate thing to do. It was a reasonably good-tempered one, and we didn't give the girls much torture-at least, not after the opening act, which was quite an amusing one, I thought.
We chose Ruth Hacohen as It. I think I've told you she's a big strong girl, and we felt she could stand the program better than any of the others. We made the other six each draw a number from one to six, to decide the order they'd go in. Then each of us drew a number from one to six too- and that gave us not only a Playmate, but also a weapon.
The object of the exercise was for Playmate No. 1 to mouth Ruth into orgasm, while Master/Mistress No. 1 used Weapon No. 1 on her (the Playmate, I mean), to encourage her in her task-and the punishment would go on till Ruth came. Then we'd have a ten-minute break, and then No. 2 team would take over; and so on-with the weapons getting progressively less punishing, in recognition of the fact that Ruth's later orgasms would take a lot longer to induce, as she became more and more tired. For example, No. 1 Weapon was a birch of three thin, whippy switches with a lot of nasty hard little buds on them; but No. 6 Weapon was merely a medium-weight smacking-strap-which, in the event, was used for just over four and a half minutes. Ulla's ass was a uniform dark beetroot-red at the end; she was lucky she'd drawn one of the Little Princesses, who couldn't hit as hard as us adults.
My main interests lay, of course, in what I myself drew, and in what happened to Georgy. I didn't do too badly, I feel. I drew Jenny O'Rourke, who had so inflamed me when Isabella and I had been doing her that I had finished up by whipping her on the cunt with rubber thongs till she fainted, you may recall. As a weapon, I got a light scourge-six thin cords, each carrying six hard little knots; the whole thing must have stung like the devil, to judge from the row Jenny made when I whipped her pretty little ass with it. But she got Ruth to come without too much delay, and I flung the scourge aside and rolled her over onto her back and fucked her till she squealed, right on the floor at the foot of the couch to which Ruth was strapped-and a pretty picture she made, arms wide-spread above her head, and legs brought up and doubled back, with her ankles shackled to her wrists, thus opening her so wide that we could see right up to her womb.
I was No. 4 on the list; Georgy drew the No. 5 position, with Quentin and a nice juicy nettle-birch. I found myself getting pretty steamed up at first at the realization that I was going to have to watch Georgy being laid by another man, but after a few moments' reflection I realized she is going to be laid many times before her year is up next January, or whenever it is, and it would be more sensible for me to start praying that they're all basically safe people like Quent, and not psychopaths like Georg Ahrenfels.
Ruth was, of course, trying to help the Playmates by coming as quickly as she could, but it's not easy to churn out five or six orgasms in a row; and even though Georgy certainly didn't waste any time, Quentin had plenty of opportunity to turn most of her body a brilliant scarlet with his nettle-birch, and then, in the last minute before Ruth came, go in for exotic touches like wiping her asshole for her with a couple of big hairy leaves. So poor Georgy was acting pretty lively and squirming about in all directions, when Quentin buggered her to the hilt and then started frigging her clitoris till they both exploded in a monster dual orgasm that I thought was going to go on forever.
The least I could do was repay the compliment with Quentin's wife, I thought! So after a decent interval I did Marcia, almost the same way-but I added a little extra touch. I lay on my back, with Marcia on her back on top of me, and I brought my legs up inside hers and spread her till she thought she was going to split; then I frigged the whole of her hot little cunt for her, and made her come twice to my once.
For my final orgasm, I managed to pair off with Georgy, and we had a highly satisfying sixty-nine. I buggered her with one of my fingers, and found the inside of her asshole still slippery with Quentin's spunk, so I shuttled in and out at high speed, which sent her nearly out of her skull; she opened her mouth wide around my cock and howled like a dog under the sensation; then her lips clamped shut again, and she really started sucking me.
Well, that made a pleasant start to our cruise, wouldn't you say, Charles? And next day was also well up to standard. Quent and Marcia asked me to join them for an evening with Alix and Jackie; and would I mind if young Jeanne tagged along too?
Was that ever a fierce evening, Charles! We really put those two Playmates through it; and the device we used was something I'd never even dreamed of-much less seen, or used!
I want you to imagine a big, mechanical seesaw-a stout plank of polished wood about ten feet long, balanced on top of a wedge-shaped metal stand with machinery in it that works a couple of arms running out to the underside of the plank on either side; when you switch on, the arms go push-pull, pull-push-quite slowly, so that each end goes up and down perhaps nine or ten times a minute.
The plank carries a seat at each end, but a seat with a difference, Charles! It's a round metal ring, a bit bigger than a toilet-seat, so that when the girl is put onto it her ass hangs down below. Then there's an odd backrest affair with a padded crossbar to it; suddenly one notices a pair of handcuffs at the back of the backrest, low down, and then anklets, one on either side of the plank, two or three feet in from the end.
Quent told me afterwards this was the first time they'd ever used it. Part of the apparatus-which I'll describe in a minute-had only just arrived from Germany; and The Management had agreed that we, the younger element, should try the thing out on our cruise.
I began to get an important hard-on when the Mongols brought Alix and Jackie in and started installing them on the seesaw-which at this stage had chocks under each end, to keep it horizontal. The position of the anklets forced the girls to bend their knees up-thus allowing their asses to drop down properly into the ring-seats. Then the backrests were adjusted so that each girl's torso was bent sharply backwards, being held in that position by the wristlets at the bottom of the backrest; and of course her position made her breasts jut up as the highpoint of her body.
But I nearly came when Quentin explained the use of the German equipment, while the Mongols fitted it on. A large pear-shaped rubber bulb, nine or ten inches in diameter, ended in a flabby rubber tail perhaps six and a half to seven inches long; this seemed to have a stiff rod inside it which made it possible for the Mongols to feed it slowly( but surely into the girl's unwilling but defenseless asshole.
"An inflatable dildo!" said Quentin. "There's a very sophisticated little one-way valve between the rubber ball and the plastic tube inside the rubber tail. Every time the girl goes down, her rubber ball hits the floor, and a bit of air's driven out through the tube into the rubber prick up her ass. In due course, it swells up-first to the size of a nice big prick, then it gets uncomfortable and finally, at the end, it's downright painful. We're told that since the girl's asshole is being stretched very slowly and gently, she'll probably be able to accommodate a diameter of at least two and a half inches; we'll discover whether that's true-"
The Playmates started moaning with terror when they heard this, but we soon had them shouting at the tops of their voices. Quentin armed us all with little knotted scourges; then he and Marcia positioned themselves on either side of Jackie, while Jeanne and I did the same for Alix. A nod to Noor Hachu, and the chocks were removed from under the plank; a switch clicked-and Jackie's end of the seesaw descended slowly.
There was a little thump as the rubber pear hit the floor, then a sharp cry as six knotted cords whistled down onto each firm, upthrust breast; then Alix started downwards, and Jeanne and I raised our scourges. "Thump!" "Aiyeee!" -and up she went, her tits still quivering from the cruel bite of the hard little knots.
Charles, it was absolutely delicious! Quite apart from the thrill of feeling one's scourge landing smartly on a Playmate's soft naked breast, there was the knowledge that inside her rectum the rubber prick was slowly swelling-first to the discomfort stage, and then beyond. ... This we could tell, because the girls' growing shrieks left us in no doubt.
I think my drawing catches the spirit of the thing quite nicely. I'm particularly pleased with the expression on Jackie's face as the two scourges come down across her tits. Please note that the rubber pricks didn't really stick out of their assholes as much as I've shown them, but it gives a better understanding of the idea of the device, that way.
Quentin had been watching the rubber balls; and when they had shrunk to about half their original size, he had the seesaw stopped and the chocks put back in place. Noor Hachu brought a couple of little stools, and put one at each end of the seesaw. Quentin nodded to me and stepped onto the stool at Jackie's end-so that his prick was nicely level with the open shouting mouth in her backflung head. I followed suit with Alix, and our respective partners played with the nipples of the Playmates' sore, reddened breasts as the two helpless girls sucked desperately at our pricks.
After our orgasm, we changed places; and it really gave me pleasure to watch Alix' tongue lapping steadily at Jeanne's pretty little cunt, all swimming with the juices of her lust.
When the girls had finished coming, Noor Nachu's men stepped forward. The two Playmates were released from the seesaw and set on their feet; I must say they looked quite ludicrous with the red balloons of the airbags hobbling away at their asses! The poor bitches really thought their torments were over; and they cried out most piteously when they discovered otherwise.
One of the Mongols produced an oblong material about the size and shape of an ordinary bathroom hand towel; this had both sides covered with fresh green stinging-nettles, tacked on nice and even over the whole surface. He held this up, like a bullfighter does his cape, then strong hands propelled the two unwilling Playmates forwards, face to face, till the fiery strip was sandwiched neatly between the two naked bodies, neck to knees; finally a broad black leather belt was cinched tightly round the two waists, so that the yelling girls must perforce press firmly against the madly irritating nettle-cloth.
Their arms were drawn up above their heads, and their wrists enclosed in a curious "double handcuff, with four stout leather cuffs attached to a strong metal ring; then a wire was let down from the ceiling, snapped onto the ring, and reeled in till the agonized pair were hanging a good foot clear of the ground.
Quentin went forward, and bent to Jackie's ass; there was a piercing cry as we saw him make an unscrewing motion which must have played havoc with her poor martyred rectum, then the rubber pear was loose in his hand, and he was moving around to Alix.
He beckoned us forward, and we all hastened to examine the swollen rubber pricks lodged in the tortured assholes. These had been opened so greatly that the normal crinkly, pouting lips had taken on the appearance of a thick, pale-amber rubber band, tautly stretched round an enormous red sausage some two and a half inches across, with a sort of black stopper thing in the end-the one-way valve, that is.
Both asses looked curiously distorted, with the buttocks gaping open in an unnatural manner. I found myself wondering what it would be like for the girls to have an orgasm; it was clearly quite impossible for their assholes to go "jerk-jerk-jerk" in the usual manner.
My prick went hard as iron again when Quentin and Marcia armed themselves with long, thin, stinging carriage-whips. Quent had just whispered in my ear, "Fuck her nicely, Paul, while we warm these bitches' bottoms for them." Now he nodded to Noor Hachu; and the struggling, shouting Playmates started slowly rotating on their wire, about fifteen revolutions every minute.
I sat myself on the edge of a chair and drew Jeanne towards me, turning her round so that her back was to me. She knew at once what I wanted, and jumped up astride my thighs; I held her slim little body up as she opened her cunt and guided my prick inside; then I let her down, and she gasped as I plumbed her deeply. I bounced her with my thigh and ass muscles, and teased her clitoris for her as we watched the whips of the others falling in regular cadence across the quivering asses of the Playmates.
We found it quite impossible to control ourselves as the two helpless, gaping assholes kept replacing each other before our fascinated eyes. Jackie and Alix were screaming themselves stupid, of course; and it really was an exciting scene, Charles! So when we came, we came in streams, as the song goes, "and we reveled in the joys of copulation" with a vengeance!
Then it was our turn with the whips; and that was something else again! Both the girls were unconscious by the end, and when Quent and Marcia had recovered from their monster fuck, we agreed our Playmates had been well played with!
Quentin took a little bodkin thing, and stooped to Alix' whip-streaked ass. I thought he was going to do something really nasty, but all he did was depress a little valve, just as one does in a car tire-and let the air out of the "sausage" with a steady hiss. Her poor little asshole couldn't close properly; we could see the pink lining twitching feebly from time to time, and there was a little dribble of watery fluid slowly leaking out. Then he removed Jackie's, and the two unconscious Playmates were carted off by Noor Hachu's men.
None of us were quite ready to call it a day yet, being still pretty excited by the seesaw game-which we all voted a great success. So we changed partners; and for the second time in two days I found myself buggering Marcia-and thoroughly enjoying myself as my balls slapped rhythmically against her brimming cunt at the end of every in-stroke. Quentin and Jeanne had a most energetic sixty-nine; and one way or another we all agreed we'd had a perfect evening.
I still have to tell you about last night-a most unusual and I think important session with Georgy, and with Estelle there too. But will you for God's sake look at the time! I don't know where the day's gone, and I've got less than half an hour to shave, have a bath, and get dressed for this evening. So, later pal, later!
As ever, Paul
LETTER NO. XVI
M.Y. TIMUR, Capri, ITALY
20 July 58
My dear Charles,
Sorry about the disorganization of my last letter-which you must have thought was going to go on and on forever! But it really was-and still is-exciting to think of those pretty assholes stretched to the absolute limit by the inflatable rubber pricks.
Well, now, here we are in Capri harbor since yesterday morning. A fantastic place, Charles, though a bit touristy, and please remember to call it CAH-pri, and never Ca-PREE, which is a mark of vulgar ignorance, and to be classed with eating peas off your knife!
But I have quite a bit to tell you before I deal with Capri-especially what went on last Wednesday, the sixteenth, that is-with Georgy and Estelle.
Well, we'd done our water-skiing fairly soon after breakfast, because we were due in at Catania about 2 P.M., and of course the Playmates would have to be kept out of sight. It was bloody hot when we arrived in the harbor, and most of us decided to go and have a bit of a zizz until later in the afternoon.
Now I think I've told you that Georgy had been put in one of the staterooms-under lock and key, of course; and her room lay between Estelle's and mine. On our way to our afternoon nap, Estelle said quietly to me, "Would you like the key to the connecting door between you and Georgy, for the afternoon? Nobody need know." I looked at her aghast, for obviously she knew exactly what was going on.
"Don't worry," she said. "Only Ginghis and I know.... Dorbon doesn't like to be worried with every little detail, so the staff tend to come to Ginghis first. Turun Hai cottoned on almost from the start. You've been handling the thing quite discreetly, and Georgy's a nice girl really-not like that stuck-up bitch Diana!" (Here it was easy to detect a certain animosity in the attitude of the fairly low-class Estelle Jackson towards the daughter of the twelfth Earl!) "So we're not about to blow the gaff on you.
"You're keen on her, aren't you?" she went on. I nodded. "Well, she's still got six months to do, and I can't alter that; and I may not be in residence all the time myself. . . . But because we all like you, I will try at least to keep her out of danger; that Ahrenfels bastard gave us all a pretty good shock, and none of us want a repeat of that, thank you!
"She's bound to get whipped, of course, between now and her release; but I daresay I can arrange to have it kept down to reasonable limits. I'll let Marcia in on the secret, if you don't mind; and then there'll be four of The Management anyway, who won't be too hard on Georgy. Marcia'll steer Quentin clear of too much brutality, without his knowing a thing about it! What do you say to that?"
"I say that you're rather a darling, Estelle, and I couldn't be more grateful to you." I leaned forward and kissed her warmly on the lips; her mouth opened under mine, and our tongues met. We were both panting with emotion when we broke apart.
"I don't think it's Georgy's stateroom I want the key to this afternoon...." I whispered thickly.
"Why, Mr. Lester," she answered in mock confusion, "whatever would my husband say?" Then, more seriously, "Paul, darling, I really think it would be wiser not to break the Chateau rule; we might find ourselves getting a bit too involved! I tell you what-let's have a gentle session with Georgy instead, this very evening; once we're in a Playroom, anything goes as you know! It's just that I'm very fond of Ginghis, and you're very fond of Georgy, I'm sure; so I think we'd do better to keep the thing off the emotional plane, and just enjoy each other's body."
Well, of course she was right, Charles! And I know I'd have made a fool of myself if she hadn't put me right, bless her!
Georgy was waiting for us in her Playroom that evening -strapped out on her back on a bench with her arms and legs tied firmly down at the sides. She gasped in surprise to see me accompanied by Estelle; then she cried out in alarm as Estelle shed her robe, to swing herself astride the slim recumbent body and start kneading the lovely breasts in her two hands.
"Are you going to marry Paul?" she asked abruptly. Georgy's mouth fell open and she blushed a deep red; then she saw me smiling encouragingly at her, and pulled herself together. "He hasn't asked me, Mistress Estelle!" she said. "But if he did, I've have to give it serious consideration."
Her tone sounded half-serious, half-joking, and I tried to match it as I said, "I'll get around to it one day, I expect." We looked into each other's eyes and I do believe, Charles old dear, that I can promise you a small chore as my best man early next year.
"Just you remember to ask Ginghis and me to the wedding," said Estelle, "or we shan't give you a wedding present. And if you really want to be friendly, ask us along for the first night of your honeymoon!"
She became serious. "Now listen, Georgy! I've told Paul I'll try to make things easy for you during the rest of your stay, but you have to keep quiet about it; if any of the other Playmates get to know, I personally will arrange for you to be whipped till you bleed every time you come off the Restricted list, on the very first day-do you understand? And you're not going to get off completely scot-free in any case, you know! For instance, every time I see a saucy pair of tits like these, I'm going to warm them up a bit!"
My cock twitched at the interplay of the two lovely naked bodies as Estelle dismounted from her perch astride Georgy's slim belly, and ran to draw a light smacking-strap from the cupboard. Then I reveled in the exciting dance of the two firm breasts as the strap cracked home across their tender surface ten ... twenty ... thirty times, till they were a uniform fiery red all over.
During the delicious torture, I ran my fingers gently over the insides of Georgy's slim, quivering thighs, and teased her on her cunt, so that her cries of anguish were mingled with cooing gasps of pleasure. I was more than ready for action when Estelle threw the strap aside and cried urgently, "Quick, Paul, undo her ankles!" By the time I had finished this task, Estelle was straddling the bench again-this time astride Georgy's head, facing towards me. She held her hands out. "Give me her legs!" I swung the long golden limbs upwards into Estelle's waiting grasp, and found myself staring at Georgy's lovely wet cunt, held wide open and helpless, waiting for me to take my post and rape it till it exploded into orgasm around my conquering prick. I too straddled the bench.
Georgy's cry as I fucked her was suddenly cut off; Estelle had lowered herself onto the lovely face, so that her cunt pressed firmly against the open mouth. I leaned forward, and took the hard little nipples in my fingers. Her tongue was thrust out in anticipation as our heads drew together, and so we all three drove each other into orgasm- Georgy with her arms still pinioned to the bench, and her legs held doubled back in Estelle's firm grasp; myself fucking her so deeply that I felt I must be inside her womb; and Estelle being frantically hunched by the scarlet-breasted Playmate, while I played with her nipples and answered the thrusts of her eager tongue with counter-thrusts of my own.
Georgy looked quite lovely when we broke away from her. Her long legs were sprawled on either side of the bench where I had lowered them to the floor, and the golden bush was all darkened and matted with mingled sweat and spunk from my recent rape. Her mouth and chin were glistening with Estelle's juices, and the beautiful scarlet breasts were rising and falling rapidly as she panted in the emotional aftermath of her spend. We released her arms, led her to a couch, and let her rest quietly for a few moments.
But Estelle soon grew impatient for more fun and games. It seemed to be tacitly understood between us that Georgy would be teased rather than tortured that evening; having her tits smacked scarlet was really more of a painful indignity than a proper torture, so I wasn't surprised to see that what she brought back from her next visit to the cupboard was a nice green nettle-birch. Actually, she was the one who was surprised, for, after rolling Georgy over onto her stomach so that her ass was ready for the nettles, I lay down myself, lying alongside her on my stomach, so that Estelle now had a double target. I had to persuade her that I was serious; she was reluctant at first to believe that I actually wanted to be nettle-whipped, but finally the message got through, and before long both Georgy and I were gasping and squirming, with the backs of our thighs and our asses fiery, itching red.
At last I cried "Enough!" and jumped from the couch, my prick up to my navel and twitching ominously. I manhandled the willing Estelle onto her back on the bench, threw her legs up over my shoulders, and buried myself in her brimming cunt. Georgy hastened to straddle the bench at Estelle's urgent invitation, and we repeated the original scene, only this time with Georgy and Estelle reversed, and Estelle, of course, not in bondage-which allowed her to fondle Georgy's burning buttocks, and run her fingers teasingly over the magnificent crop of itching nettle-rash that covered them everywhere.
Later, the two girls had a vigorous sixty-nine, with Georgy underneath. Estelle teased her almost to the point of hysteria with a knobbly bamboo asshole-dildo, but she herself found it hard to maintain her dignity with my prick rammed into her asshole till my balls were hanging literally half an inch above Georgy's face as she sucked avidly at Estelle's brimming cunt.
Well, there you are, Charles! Quite apart from its being such a nice sexy session, what really pleased me was to have Estelle-Princess Ginghis Oirad in person, no less-so wholeheartedly on our side. She's been a highly entertaining lay all along, of course; and now she's a real friend as well. I'm very happy about it all!
So that was Wednesday. The next night, as I wrote in my last letter, we went ashore for the evening, to dine and play roulette. That was some performance! I lost a hundred dollars, dammit; simply couldn't do a thing right all evening, and to cap it all I collected a nice case of Italian Intestine, or Catania Collywobbles, or something! Whatever it was, it kept me running to the bathroom all through the small hours of the morning; and next day I was as weak as a kitten-though thank God, Enterovioform seemed to work O.K.
So I was not among those taking an intelligent interest in our departure from Catania next day-that was Friday- nor did I display a great deal of interest in Mount Vesuvius when we put in at Naples that evening. But I did perk up a bit after dinner; apparently we were going to have to spend the night there to refuel and take on supplies, and I accompanied the others on a special private guided tour of Pompeii that Quentin had arranged from Catania. I tell you, there's nothing like having a hundred million in the bank when you want to get things done!
If you've never seen Pompeii, Charles, you should! Quite fascinating to see the way death caught them unawares- and I must say the Italians are doing a wonderful job on the restoration. Naturally, we went to see the brothel paintings. Our guide was a bit scandalized to be showing pornographic art to delicate young thirteen-year-olds like the two Little Princesses; my God, Charles, did he but know! Anyhow, they were quite titillating, and somehow I was a bit surprised to find that two-thousand years ago the bedroom capers were very much the same as they are today, but when you come to think of it, there aren't too many things you can do with the three main openings in a girl's body, are there? Ultimately, it all boils down to sticking your prick into her-whether it's her cunt, her mouth, or her asshole! I'd say the ancient Romans seem to have appreciated that quite nicely, Charles-to judge from those wall-paintings at Pompeii!
Yesterday morning we came over here. Capri's rather like a figure eight. The whole island rises pretty steeply out of the water, though the "waist" part is a bit lower. The bottom loop is Capri, the top loop is Anacapri- which really means "Over Capri" or "Upper Capri" when you anglicize it. Anacapri's where the Roman Emperor Tiberius had his villa. At the right hand side of the eight, the "waist" is Marina Grande-"Big Harbor", where we and all the other yachts are docked. The left "waist" is Piccola Marina-"Little Harbor", for small boats only. In the afternoon we went into the Blue Grotto-up in the top loop of the eight in Anacapri; the enclosed color postcard gives you an idea of its incredible eerie beauty.
Well, enough of the geography, Charles! We had lunch at the Quisisana, the posh hotel just off the Piazza-The Square, which is the center of Capri's existence; lunch went on for hours; the Van Dines and Estelle seemed to know nearly everybody there, and it really was a most eye-opening introduction to the world of the international jet set. They accepted an invitation to a party from a Prince Gaetano Parente-very wealthy, quite handsome in a rather heavy-bull sort of way, and apparently a well-known sadist; anyway, he had no qualms about telling us about his new little Italian starlet who was going to be "on exhibition" at the party, and Quentin smiled and said in that case, we'd certainly have to come-and you'll see why in a moment, Charles!
Later, Estelle told me that Parente's title is really quite new-certainly not older than World War I-whereas some of the Capri titles go back to the Middle Ages. She mentioned the Duca di Bagnoli as being pretty old; we'd met his wife Nevis in the Quisisana, and there was an incredible Princess Pignatelli who lived down at Piccola Marina whose family was so old it had gone a bit odd. She herself used to sleep in a black glass coffin, and invariably wore a black woolen "flying-helmet" sort of headgear.
And there were sweep-outs from the American State Department living with beautiful little Greek boy friends, and the pretender to the throne of Albania from the dynasty before King Zog, and a peculiar old English aristocrat-I didn't get her name-who simply daren't return to England or she'd go to jail, and thousands of beautiful young people, and drugs, and sex. ... A most exciting place, I do assure you, Charles!
Gaetano Parente's party was a really fantastic performance. There were about thirty of us all told, and the sexes were more or less equally divided. I latched on to a wonderful colored model from New York, and had her three times before the evening ended; unfortunately she only liked it straight-but she was a lovely fuck, none the less. After a very lush buffet supper with gallons of French champagne, we all trooped into a sort of theater place down in the basement of the Prince's villa. Then the curtains were drawn back and there on the stage was his Italian starlet-a very lovely girl, not more than about twenty, I'd say, with a wispy ethereal beauty that I found very moving. She was naked, hanging from her wrists, and gagged with what looked like a big solid block of rubber holding her jaws wide open. Parente came on stage and birched her right royally, first across the ass and then across the tits, and you could see she was in agony, throwing her head about and shuddering all over and clenching the cheeks of her pretty little ass as it went redder and redder and shrieking behind her gag. He didn't stop until there were little beads of blood showing on her buttocks and her breasts; and then he had two servants strap her down onto a bench, lying on her back, with ropes holding her legs straight up and wide apart. Then he fucked her in front of us all, ploughing into her slim white body with great humping strokes that jerked her visibly on her, bench.
Then came the bit that made me decide to do one of my pretty pictures for you-the only non-Oirad one, Charles, but she is a lovely girl-and it's rather a sexy thing that happened to her. I just thought I'd like to illustrate it!
While the girl was still shuddering from her orgasm, Prince Parente put his hand to her gag-and the whole center "plug" came away, leaving a rubber-covered metal ring in her mouth, so that her jaws remained wide open. Then he picked up a wide-spouted sort of funnel thing, and pushed that into the ring. Next, two "side-wing" gadgets were fitted to the bench on either side of her head, and tightened against her cheeks so that she was held immobile. And then he invited us on stage, and told us what to do.
The women were allowed to frig the girl or mouth her as much and as often as they pleased-and by God, they did, Charles; that kid was orgasm-happy before she knew where she was! The men were supposed to toss themselves off-or get their partners to do it-into the funnel, which was lined with a new silicone compound that one of Parente's companies is experimenting with; it gives an incredibly slippery surface. I don't know how much spunk the girl had to swallow in the next half-hour, Charles, but it must have been a lot! I only contributed once, with Leonora, my Negro model, frigging me very beautifully into the funnel. The rest of my spends were right up high inside that beautiful coffee-colored body. You can see her at the right of my drawing-cute, isn't she?
Well, / thought that was a really sexy performance-the complete public degradation of that lovely girl; and that's why I did my pretty picture. I've shown two men kneeling at her head and being tossed off into the funnel because it looks good; but in actual fact we only did it one at a time, to keep the thing going longer.
That ought to hold you for a bit, you old bastard!
All the best!
As ever, Paul
LETTER NO. XVII
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
24 July 58
Hi there, Charles!
Please note the address; we got back here yesterday evening. It's nice to be back, though the last ten days have been simply superb-except for that bloody evening in Catania when I lost one-hundred dollars and got a dose of diarrhea. The separation seems to have done everybody good; the elder Oirads seem positively radiant (they've probably tortured the wretched Diana Manners half out of her mind, poor girl), and Carlos greeted me like an old friend and asked me to join him tomorrow evening to do Caroline Bentham-today's her last day on the Restricted list, I gather.
So life's fairly satisfactory, though I'm sad to think I only have five full days left here. I leave on Wednesday next, after eight of the most memorable weeks of my life. You'll be interested to hear I'm not coming back direct as planned; there was a letter from Robin Thompson waiting for me yesterday, inviting me to stay a few days with him in Beirut-I think I told you he's in the British Embassy there-which of course I shall do, for this is a part of the world I've never seen and always wanted to. I spoke with him on the phone this morning, and I've arranged to fly over from Athens on Wednesday afternoon, the thirtieth, and stay with him over the week-end. So expect me about the fifth or sixth of August, old dear. I may have to go and see my Mama first, but I'll call you as soon as I know my plans, never fear.
All right then ... where had we got to? I remember... I told you about last Saturday night's party at Prince Parente's, and the girl who was birched and then had to wear the funnel-gag, with all the men tossing themselves off into it. Very sexy, that was!
Well, next day I woke up about noon in my stateroom on Timur to find Leonora, the Negro model, in bed with me-which was a bit of a shock. But I needn't have worried, Estelle had brought a blond Swedish boy and a French brother-and-sister incest act back with her! So naturally I fucked her in a friendly sort of fashion, and we had some food sent in, and it must have been about six P.M. before we surfaced.
We all went-and by all I mean Us and half a dozen visitors; Quent and Marcia had brought a couple back to the yacht too-and had a fantastic meal at Numero Due, a very expensive, in place near the Quisisana. We danced a lot and laughed a lot and drank a lot; and somehow it was four o'clock in the morning before we knew it-and we were due to weigh anchor at eight.
So we made our farewells, stumbled back to the yacht, and fell into bed; and only Jeanne and Marie-who had had dinner with us and then been sent back to the yacht well before midnight-were on deck to represent The Management when we left Capri next morning.
That Leonora's a pretty piece and quite passionate-though she doesn't go in for variations unfortunately, at least, not yet! I'm going to need someone to stop me gnawing my fingernails while I'm waiting to marry Georgy next year-oh, yes, that's already decided. Read on, Charles! Leonora just might fill the bill. She'll be back in the States about mid-August, and we've agreed to give it a whirl for a bit and see what happens. I'll get Dr. Kumar to give me something I can slip in her drink to loosen her up; and I bet I'll soon have her picking one of the numbers between sixty-eight and seventy-which'll do for a start, though what I'd really like is to get up that lovely, slim, coffee-colored ass of hers!
Well, as I say, we set sail for home on Monday morning; and I for one wasn't seen till early in the afternoon. I suddenly realized I hadn't seen Georgy since Wednesday of last week; so I went to Estelle and said I'd like to take her up on her offer of the key to the communicating door. Five minutes later, I was in Georgy's stateroom; six minutes, and I was in Georgy herself.
She was lying naked on the bed, reading a book, when I went in; I went straight to the bed, plucked the book out of her hand and threw it aside, pushed her over onto her back, and bent down and kissed her hungrily. Then I was on the bed, kneeling between her parted thighs, and her arms came up and pulled me down onto her, and her cunt was beautifully wet already, and welcomed my prick in the most exciting way as I entered her; then she wrapped her arms and legs around me and thrust her tongue deep into my mouth. I fucked her, long and strong and deep and hard, till we both burst into orgasm; and it was absolutely perfect for us both.
She was almost pathetically pleased to see me. As she said, one of the distressing features of being kept prisoner, as she is, is the complete lack of knowledge of what's going on; and even worse is the realization that there's nothing-but absolutely nothing-that you can do to influence the course of events. Everything lies entirely in the hands of someone else. I reminded her that Estelle would be protecting her to some extent from now on; and we worked out that her release-date would be January 27 next year-that's twenty-six weeks and five days from today, Charles.
She hadn't realized she was already almost halfway there; and that comforted her a bit.
Then I told her what I'd been doing the past five days-even the bit about Leonora and my plans to run her for the next six months. Georgy didn't seem to mind; I suppose her experiences since last January have left her with little capacity for sexual jealousy. Life as a Playmate at Chateau Oirad does tend to make a girl think that her main purpose in life is to be a receptacle!
By the time I got to Gaetano Parente and his starlet, I was feeling randy again. So as I recounted what had happened, I repeated it on Georgy in pretend-fashion, "He tied her out on the bench like this." I made her lie out on her own bench, and I put her wrists down by the bench legs, and pretended to tie them fast; then I raised her legs and tied them out on imaginary ropes. "And there was this funnel-gag in her mouth." By now she'd entered into the spirit of the thing, and she opened her mouth herself and said "Glarg-glarg!" at me from the back of her throat. "And then the women frigged her and gammed her." And I did it to her till she shuddered all over, and nearly came. "And then the men tossed themselves off into the funnel, and she had to swallow them down." And with these words I jumped up onto her lovely naked body in sixty-nine position, sent my prick deep into her mouth, and started lapping at her eager, twitching cunt.
And a good time was had by all, Charles!
That evening Estelle asked me to join her next day, with Ruth Hacohen and Laura Johnson as the Playmates du Jour. I was very pleased to agree, of course-especially when Estelle proposed that the Little Princesses should join in too.
It turned out to be a pretty vicious session, Charles, and I had no trouble in producing three monster orgasms-and I had at least six more in my mind, if you know what I mean! I'm more than ever happy to know that Estelle's going to look after Georgy from now on for, as my drawing shows, when she decides to give a Playmate a going-over, she really does it properly!
That's Laura standing on tiptoes with her ankles shackled to the floor a yard apart and her arms bound behind her back and, as you've no doubt guessed, that rod running up between her legs carries a dildo at the top. But, Charles, it was such a big dildo! Even on tiptoes, there was no comfort for Laura at all; and when she sank down onto her heels, to rest her calves, she really felt pain inside as the big blunt head jabbed into her womb-although that flange thing stopped her from doing serious damage to herself. That's Marie whipping her across the ass with that thin, light, whalebone switch; it stings like hell, that one does! You can see where she's had it on the breasts already; that's when she had her first orgasm, wriggling about in pain on the dildo. And I've tried to show how the cuts on her buttocks are making her move her pelvis about-and you know what that means, without my having to tell you!
You'll just have to take my word for it that the other Playmate is Ruth because, of course, you can't see her face, the way she's been stuffed head-first into that odd barrel affair with one side cut away. It's got a sort of shoulder-harness inside which takes the weight of her body; and then that padded bar (which is on a hinge, and opens like a door) comes around behind her doubled-up thighs; it's adjustable, to fit the build of the girl. Ruth's a big busty piece, of course, so there's no particular difficulty in getting her wedged in nice and tight. Only a trained acrobat can double herself up like that and keep her knees unbent as well; so with most girls the lower legs stick out-as I've shown Ruth's here-so that her feet are perfectly positioned for a nice bastinadoing (which Ruth got, later on).
I think I've shown very nicely how the asshole gets pushed out by the doubled-up position so that it actually sticks up a little from the "ground level" of the girl's crack. The buttocks are so tightly bent, and so widely spread, that most of the protection they normally give has completely vanished, and the asshole is very vulnerable indeed- as Ruth is finding out! That's a fairly light "hairbrush" thing that Jeanne's using-but those stiff little spiky bristles are falling directly onto Ruth's unprotected asshole. It wasn't long before the whole target area had gone a deep, angry red; Estelle stepped in then, and stopped Jeanne from doing any more damage there-but I don't know if Ruth felt she was any better off. Jeanne merely shifted her attack a couple of inches and started bouncing her hairbrush on the plump, furry cunt-lips peering out between the Israeli Playmate's quivering thighs.
Well, that's just a sample of what went on that evening, Charles! I'm not going to describe the whole session for you, for the really important thing in this letter, as I see it, is what happened yesterday afternoon with Georgy-which I'll tell you about next. As I say, I had three super-spends- Estelle gave me the high sign to fuck the Little Princesses; and once again I thrilled at the sound of their ecstatic cries, as one after the other their slim athletic little bodies writhed and shuddered under mine. At the end, I took Estelle herself-in a long, slow, dreamy sixty-nine, in which each of us had a forefinger up the other's asshole. We both concentrated on bringing ourselves up to the very brink, and then holding off and letting our orgasms recede, till we were both aching with lust and could control ourselves no longer-and next time we came up to it, we went straight over the top and spent... and spent. .. and spent . .. till we almost fainted....
Of course, the Playmates got attended to as well. Ruth sang very prettily in Hebrew when each of the Little Princesses frigged her into orgasm-with a knobbly bamboo rod up her asshole. This was not to her liking at all, for when her sphincter muscles went into the usual rhythmic contractions as she spent, her bristle-sensitized asshole hurt her hideously.
Laura came at least twice on her dildo-stand-and it may have been more. Certainly she had another orgasm during the finale when we made each Playmate strap a dildo around her waist and fuck her fellow-sufferer-and she had to keep up the in-and-out movement until the other girl came properly. We encouraged the "male" member of the act by whipping her across her ass with a strap of three light leather thongs; and the flack! flack! of the leather on the naked ass mingled delightfully with the cries of the victim and the squeals of the Little Princesses as they frigged each other into orgasm.
Yes, I found that a most rewarding evening, Charles-and I hope you like my pretty picture.
Next day, I was determined to have some time alone with Georgy; once she was back in Chateau Oirad, life would again become uncertain, and possibly unpleasant for her; and before we left the relative shelter of Timur, I wanted to fix things up between us once and for all-for at this stage, although we both knew that it must inevitably come, neither of us had spoken about marriage.
So I spoke to Noor Hachu in the morning; and after lunch I went down to the Playroom where Georgy was waiting for me. She was stark naked, strung up tight in a revealing X, and heavily gagged-all just as I had ordered. On a table in full view of her was an assortment of whips and birches and nettles-which more than explained the look of terrified anticipation on her face.
She looked pretty startled when I moved into her field of vision and she saw who it was she'd been strung up for, but I didn't give her much time to reflect. I picked up a little knotted-cord scourge and addressed myself to her in the following words: "Ever since I first set eyes on you, Miss Meredith, I have experienced the greatest of pleasure in whipping you across the breasts." Phwtt! Phwtt!-a smart stroke across each of the lovely globes. "Across the buttocks." Phwtt! Phwtt! "And along your cunt." A wicked upward phwtt that had Georgy writhing and squirming and protesting behind her gag. I went on.
"In fact, Miss Meredith, I am quite at a loss to know where I prefer whipping you. Here?" Phwtt! Phwtt! Across her reddening breasts. "Or here?" A quick step behind her pinioned body, followed by phwtt! phwtt! across her beautiful quivering ass. "Or here?" Another upward cut along her open cunt. "One thing is certain, however; while I have been whipping you here," Phwtt! Phwtt! "And here." Phwtt! Phwtt! "And here," Phwtt! "I have come to realize that life without you would be very empty-very empty indeed. And so, Miss Meredith, I stand before you today to ask for your hand in marriage; and for your lovely breasts." Phwtt! Phwtt! "And for your pretty ass." Phwtt! Phwtt! "And for your exciting cunt." Phwtt! "If you marry me, Miss Meredith, I promise that I will love and honor you till death do us part; this I think that you yourself already know. I promise also that I will from time to time whip you here." Phwtt! Phwtt! "And here." Phwtt! Phwtt! "And here." Phwtt!
I threw the scourge aside. "I promise that I will from time to time gratify your body with my mouth-here." I stooped and nibbled at her little coral nipples till they stood out hard and firm, and her whole upper torso shivered with pleasure. "And here." I went behind her and parted the cheeks of her ass, to thrust my pointed tongue against the little crinkled brown lips of her asshole. "And here." Now I was in front of her, on my knees between her trembling thighs; and there I sucked her fresh cunt, and stroked the little bud of her clitoris with my tongue until her lovely body stiffened, and she creamed deliriously, groaning behind her gag as I sucked the juices from her twitching quim.
I let her rest for a few minutes; and my heart nearly burst with happiness as I gazed at her beautiful body, all rosy from her orgasm, with the lovely blonde head drooping against one of her upthrust arms; and below, the glistening tracks down the insides of her thighs where her brimming cunt had leaked its milky fluid. Then I continued.
"I promise also that I will from time to time arouse your body with the hot kisses of the stinging nettles." I picked up a nettle-birch, and spent five glorious minutes turning the beautiful body a uniform angry red from neck to knees, while Georgy made futile guttural noises of complaint behind her gag.
But the nettles had in fact aroused her-as indeed they arouse virtually every woman on whom they are used with loving skill-and I had no reason to be disappointed with her response when I laid the birch aside and said, "Above all, Miss Meredith, I promise that I will fuck you very frequently, and in many different manners, because I love you dearly, Miss Meredith, my darling. . . ." and I stooped my knees so that my prick was at the level of her crotch and then I straightened up inside her till our bushes met and I could feel her weight come off the floor with my up-stroke. And so I fucked her, with long deliberate thrusts, until I saw her eyes roll upwards in their sockets and she came in great gushing streams with her cunt gripping furiously at my big raping prick and I joined her in an orgasm such as I have never had before.
When we had somewhat recovered, I looked into her eyes and said, "Miss Meredith, my darling, are you ready to answer my question now?" She nodded her head, and I released her from her bonds and took the gag from her mouth.
She drew a deep breath, and cupped her sore, scarlet breasts in her hands; then she said, "Paul Lester, you bloody bastard, don't you ever treat me like that again, you frightful shit-except maybe once or twice a week! Of course I'll marry you, my darling! Oh, darling, darling, how am I going to get through the next six months waiting for you?" And she flung herself into my arms and burst into tears; and I ran my hands over the beautiful body, all burning-hot and covered with the little lumps of the nettle-rash; and we both knew everything was going to work out all right, and we were very happy together-and the rest of our afternoon is no business of yours, Charles!
So, we're engaged, and we shall get married just as soon as we can after she gets out of Chateau Oirad; and you're going to be my best man.
But you've got to admit that was a hell of a way to pop the question, wasn't it? I've given myself a hard-on just thinking about it!
All the best, sport!
As ever, Paul
LETTER NO. XVIII
Chateau Oirad, GREECE
29 July 58
Well, Charles-
This is a sad day-my last letter to you from Chateau Oirad. I really have had a wonderful time here, and I am only too pleased to have arranged for you to be invited next year; I know you'll simply love it. It's the most exciting thing in the world to hear your Playmate's moan of anguish as she learns what's in store for her next; to see the look of terror in her eyes as the Mongols manhandle her over to the spike-horse, or as you tap her pretty tits with the thin whalebone switch that you have chosen for her. And then the lovely little springy feeling in your wrist that comes from a nice solid stroke, cleanly delivered on her naked flesh-followed by her scream of pain. . . . Delicious, Charles, delicious! And it's simply perfect to watch her slim body shuddering uncontrollably as the pain takes possession of her; and then she starts babbling promises, promises, offering you all sorts of vile obscenities if only you will stop torturing her; and you smile because you know she's going to do these things anyway-after you've attended to her properly.
And here at Chateau Oirad, everything's on such a high plane of luxury, which gives the thing an added attraction-and I do see what they mean about it being even more fun to have someone of your own class down in the Playrooms; well, after all, Georgy, yes? Oh yes, you'll have a fine time here next year, Charles! Start organizing your affairs so that you can get a full two months' vacation.
Well, I suppose I'd better give you the usual rundown on the entertainment front, hadn't I?
We got back from our cruise on Wednesday evening; and I'd spent the afternoon getting engaged to Georgy in somewhat unconventional style-but I've told you all this already. Well, I was so emotionally worked up that evening that I went to bed early with a couple of sleeping pills. Then on Thursday, Ginghis asked me to join him with Caroline Bentham next day, as I told you. What with still being pretty tired after the cruise-I hadn't had much rest since the Saturday night party on Capri, remember-and wanting to put up a good performance the following evening for old Don Carlos, I decided to give Thursday night a miss as well. So when I formed up in Caroline's Playroom on Friday, I was really rarin' to go, Charles, believe you me!
My picture shows Carlos attending to Caroline, about a third of the way through the session. She really has got legs as long as that, Charles! And since she's trained as a dancer she can get them open a bit wider than other girls; the bar on that trapeze thing her ankles are strapped to is a good four feet long, I promise you. But let me start at the beginning!
Carlos had had her served up wearing a tight waistbelt, which carried a strap that went down between her legs and up at the back, between the cheeks of her ass. This strap served to hold a couple of dildoes inside her cunt and asshole; and it was pulled up so tight that even without the dildoes it was bound to cause her discomfort-for it was almost completely hidden inside her cunt, with the plump lips puffed out on either side of it. Of course that meant that it was rubbing directly on her clitoris.
Perhaps she would have been all right if she'd been allowed to stand still-but of course she wasn't! Carlos and I armed ourselves with carriage-whips-you know the ones, with long light thongs that crack and sting. We made her dance for us-a typical chorus routine, with lots of bumps and grinds and high kicks-and very beautiful she looked too, stark naked except for this belt! The jiggling and swaying of those breasts of hers would have put a hard-on on a statue-and I'm no statue!
Well, of course, it wasn't long before the inevitable happened; you try doing half a dozen high kicks with a couple of dildoes stuffed up you, Charles! Caroline stopped dead, and stood with her legs apart; then she said, "Aaaah!" and hunched her shoulders up. Then she said, "Ooooh," closed her eyes and threw her head back, and burst into a monster orgasm, shuddering and crying, with her juices simply foaming out of her, welling out on either side of the strap in her cunt, to trickle slowly down her long slim thighs.
Almost before she'd finished spending, we had her on her back on that narrow bench, just as I've shown in my pretty picture, with her wrists shackled down at either side and her legs up vertical, strapped to the trapeze; then Carlos did that heavy leather waist-belt up across her trim, flat belly. We'd removed her original belt by now, and taken the dildoes out of her. And there was our pretty Playmate immobilized ready for the next act-which was Carlos and his cane, just as my drawing shows.
Finally, after a round-dozen strokes on the firm naked flesh, Carlos announced with a happy sigh, "If I don't take this bitch here and now, Paul, I'll find myself coming in mid-air!" With that, he straddled the end of the bench and worked his way towards Caroline, bending his body forwards so that his prick lay close to the bench, thus making it possible for him to bugger her.
By now, I was getting pretty excited myself. I threw my leg over Caroline's lovely body, facing away from Carlos, and shuffled forward till my prick was wagging in her face. She moaned as I pulled her jaw open with one hand and stuffed my throbbing cock into her mouth with the other; but she had learnt-the hard way-that being sexed up is less painful than being whipped. So there was barely an instant's hesitation before I felt her soft lips close around my big swollen shaft; and before long the spunk was pouring into her at both ends of her body as Carlos and I creamed profusely, and very, very satisfyingly.. ..
While we were waiting for our drooping pricks to recover, we amused ourselves by "grooming" her as though she were a horse, rubbing her down with wisps of stinging-nettles-in lieu of the more usual straw; dammit, Charles, who ever rubs straw on a girl's naked body-and then curry-combing her with hand-brushes faced with tiny little spikes set in rubber, not severe enough to cause bleeding scratches, you understand, but certainly enough to have her shrieking the place down. Especially when we were working on the soft smooth flesh high up on the insides of her silky thighs!
Then it was my turn with the cane! As you can see from the drawing, Carlos had dealt very effectively with her pretty little ass and the backs of her thighs; so I concentrated on the fronts of her thighs, and then gave her half a dozen shrewd ones across her breasts which she seemed not to enjoy! Then we had her again, with Carlos fucking her in the mouth while I buggered her.
When we put her on the spike-horse for a ten-minute rest period, she made so much noise that we had to gag her; the idea of silence led us to the idea of immobility; so she spent her time on the horse-and I'm happy to say it was my idea-sitting bolt upright, with her arms pulled taut behind her by cords running from her wrists to the back end of the horse, and her head held at an unnatural backward-bending angle by means of "hook-combs" tangled into her hair, with more cords running from the combs to the end of the horse. If you're wondering why she couldn't just ease, her body backwards a bit to relieve the strain, well, she couldn't; there were two more cords, running this time from the front end of the horse, and these finished in little thumbscrew clamps screwed firmly down onto her nipples, and the cords were drawn so taut that her breasts were all elongated, like pears. The wicked little spikes bit cruelly at her naked thighs and open crotch; but she dare not squirm or wriggle because then it felt as though her nipples were being torn out by the roots. All she could do was sit and suffer, waiting for us to regain our strength-and pass on to the next torture of her lovely, defenseless body.
When we were ready, we dismounted her from her horse. Pain had seeped into her body to such an extent that she could barely stand; and Carlos and I had to support her over to the couch where the next act in her martyrdom was to take place. This was to be the well-known Chateau Oirad trick of "whip-'em-while-they-cream" and I shuddered in pleasurable anticipation as Carlos produced a wicked stinging birch-rod of three whippy switches, each plentifully furnished with little buds, hard as stone. I had met this weapon before, and had in fact used it to good effect; when I thought of the thin springy switches whipping home into Caroline's soft ass, already striped with angry red weals from Carlos' caning on the bench, my prick sprang smartly to attention.
I was to fuck her first-being the younger, I was ready sooner. We bound her arms behind her; then I lay down on the couch, and Carlos forced the unhappy Playmate to lie on top of me. My legs came up between hers and spread slowly outwards; then I fitted my prick into her open cunt, and she was gasping as the crisp hairs of my bush played havoc with her unprotected clitoris. I began to fuck her with long, deep, steady strokes.
She started moaning, half in pleasure, half in fear-for she knew that when she came, those hard little buds on the switches would bring fiery torment to her ass, but of course there was nothing she could do about it-and soon I felt her cunt beginning to grip convulsively at my shuttling prick.
Then she was coming, her body writhing furiously on mine so that I had to throw an arm around her and hold her to me by main force; and with my other hand I drew her shouting head down to mine and locked my open mouth onto hers. I could feel myself being shaken by Carlos' birch strokes landing on our Playmate's tortured buttocks, searing her with hot fire so that she jerked in agony.. . four five ... six times; and then it was over, and she was sobbing in an ecstasy of pain, and I was flooding her womb with spunk as I came and came inside her.
Carlos was more than ready for her after his delicious task with the birch. We gave her a few moments to compose herself; then we changed places-to the accompaniment of heart-rending cries as the unfortunate Caroline realized that she was to receive a further birching at my hands. But once again, there was nothing she could do about it. Skewered at the crotch by Carlos' prick, and with her lovely whip-marked ass cocked up into the air in most provoking fashion, she made a tantalizing picture; and I felt my prick stirring purposefully again as I flexed the birch in my two hands while Carlos fucked her steadily towards her orgasm.
I saw the little brown-lipped asshole twitch ominously down in the crack between the scarlet buttocks. Then Carlos shouted hoarsely; and my arm came down.... Mercifully, her orgasm was shorter this time; I only got four strokes in before she fainted, but there were plenty of blood flecks showing on her swollen, scarlet buttocks when Carlos eased himself out from under her limp body.
It was with a genuine sense of achievement that we watched the unconscious Playmate being removed by the Mongols; then we grinned at each other, shook hands warmly, and went our separate ways to bed.
He's quite a lad, that Carlos, isn't he? Basically, I like him a lot-and I think it's a feather in my cap to have been invited to share a session with him; he doesn't have to do that for me after all, I'm Quentin's guest, not his! And just at this moment I have mixed feelings about him; he booked Georgy on Sunday and put her through it. Not too badly, mark you; and I have to admit he has every right to do exactly as he pleases with a Chateau Playmate. But you can't expect me to like the idea of my fiancee being tied up and whipped by another man, let alone the sex part of it.
Actually, when you come to think of it, Charles, I'm being a bit illogical there; it's just jealousy, isn't it? Obviously, I have no objection, empirically, to Georgy being whipped. I find it a most exciting thing, both to watch and to think about; and as to the sex bit-well, if I'm allowed to fuck Isabella without Carlos making a fuss, and sleep around with Leonora without Georgy going off the deep end about it, I suppose I shouldn't complain when Georgy gets fucked now and then by a Master, should I?
For the past three nights I've been saying goodbye to my favorites among the Playmates-other than Georgy, whom I'm seeing tonight. I suppose not unnaturally, I've gone for the English-speaking ones; I've had all of them except Diana Manners. For some reason or other, I find I can't whip up much enthusiasm for her, so I replaced her with Ulla Bengstrom, the Swedish girl.
On Saturday, I had Ulla and Laura Johnson; Sunday was Jackie Maitland and Jenny O'Rourke; and last night, Alix McLean and Caroline Bentham-who was beautifully covered with lovely welts from her session on the previous Friday, with Carlos and myself. I've rather neglected her, I fear. ... Although she's quite dumb, she's also stunningly good-looking, and she has these long, slow, thorough spends that really bring out the best in a man, Charles! If she's still in residence next year-and I don't see why she shouldn't be-let's you and I devote a little time to her!
Well, I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow description of those last three sessions. Oddly enough, my main object was not to torture half a dozen Playmates-but rather to say goodbye to a bunch of nice girls who'd brought me a lot of physical pleasure. So I treated them all as though they were on the Restricted list, and didn't put any of them into the infirmary. And in order to leave me some reserve of strength for Beirut-and for Leonora, when I get back to the States-I limited myself to two spends on each of the three evenings, one with each girl. But they were healthy spends, Charles! And even more so for the girls; for I used the bristle-ring every time-and that really made them foam at the cunt! Four out of the six fainted, which is quite a gratifying average, wouldn't you say? Only Jackie Maitland and Laura Johnson held out till I'd had my orgasm in their brimming cunts. Jackie I was expecting; she's a big, solid girl, but I must say Laura was a bit of a surprise to me. Neither of them were in what you could call good shape! Each of them had at least three orgasms-bang-bang-bang, one after the other without stopping, while I was working on them with those bristles; shrieking away fit to beat the band, eyes all rolled up so that only the whites showed, bodies completely tensed, just like rigor mortis. At the end, they were completely fucked out; all they could do was just lie there glassy-eyed, with great gobs of frothy juices oozing out of their cunts-which had gone a startling very bright red under the stimulus of the bristles.
And a good time was had by all, as they say!
Yesterday The Management began its annual "splitting-up" process, which I gather takes place every Fall, as the various families peel off to spend a bit of time on their own. Dorbon and Renee left the island with the two Little Princesses, en route for Paris, where they spend a month every year with Renee's parents. Quent and Marcia will be over in the States some time in August, but only for a few days, before going to Mexico. I'll try and arrange a grand reunion for us all, but I can't promise anything.
I went over to Athens with the Oirads-solely for the purpose of buying a suitable farewell present for the Chateau. And what the hell do you buy for people who have everything, Charles? As a matter of fact, I think I made quite a happy choice. The last time I came over I'd been pottering around the antique shops, and I'd seen a very fine pewter chalice-Greek Orthodox, I'd say, and in very nice condition. Luckily it was still there-and bang went another seventy-five dollars. A lot for me, but little enough really to say thank you for the really wonderful time I've had here.
The four Oirads and I had a quick lunch at the Grande Bretagne before we parted-they to go to the airport, and me to Piraeus and the seaplane back to the island. So I showed them this chalice, and made a pretty speech of thanks and farewell. I think Dorbon was quite pleased; anyway, he thanked me warmly, and said, "Quentin tells me you will be coming to visit us again next year, Paul. We shall all look forward to seeing you at Chateau Oirad." That was nice, I thought.
I'll present the chalice to the others at dinner tonight. It does actually look quite beautiful.
Today I did most of my packing since I've booked Georgy for this evening, and I expect I'll find myself rather tired after saying goodbye to her-so I won't feel like getting up early tomorrow! The seaplane's scheduled for noon, and I'll be having lunch in the Grande Bretagne by one o'clock; then out to the airport in the Rolls for the afternoon plane to Beirut, and a pleasant four or five days with Robin. Very tentatively, I'm planning to be back in the States on Wednesday next week-that's the sixth; but whichever way it goes, I'll ring you the evening of the day I arrive. O.K.?
I was chatting with Estelle and Marcia after dinner last night, and Estelle told me that Georgy had been released from the infirmary after lunch, in reasonably good shape. Carlos had done a classic routine on her of smacking-strap, nettles, knotted-cord scourge, and cane; and apart from a dozen strokes of the cane-which is never very nice on the bare except for the chap who's dishing it out-she hadn't really anything to complain about. Both of them promised to do what they could to protect her during the rest of her stay here-exactly twenty-six weeks from today, Charles; I mark my calendar off just like a schoolboy!
Estelle pointed out that this would be the first time in the history of Chateau Oirad that a girl had been both a Playmate and a Mistress-for after Georgy becomes my wife next year, she's automatically included in my invitation. Neither Estelle nor Marcia could see any reason why this shouldn't be allowed; and we agreed that she'd probably turn out to be a pretty stern Mistress, to make up for what she's had to go through herself.
So we ought to have a pretty good time here next year, Charles! I know you'll get on with Georgy in any case; and of course down in the Playrooms anything goes is the motto, as I'm sure you've appreciated by now!
Well, enough of all this! It's time to get ready for dinner now; and then a lovely long session with Georgy afterwards. ...
