Chapter 9

She sat for almost an hour. A slow cramp had conquered the muscles of her legs. Then she heard the metallic taps of her Mistress's heels. It was a sound that never failed to make her heart race and her nipples tighten. Angique entered and walked over to her. She lifted her chin with a leather-gloved finger. As usual Kristie felt her eyes drown in the emerald pools. They took her in, body and soul.

"Today is an important day for my little darling", Angique said. Kristie felt a rush of excitement wash over her.

"Today the little cunt will be mine forever."

Kristie swallowed. She kept her stare fixed on her Mistress's eyes. She knew what Angique meant. She did not know in what way she would make Kristie hers. But she did not care as long as she would be hers. These last weeks had changed her entirely. She was this woman's sexual creature. The horrible experiences in Florida had taught her she could not trust Kristie to run her life anymore. Kristie should die. Kristie should be peeled off of her true self like a snake's skin. She should give way to a new Kristie. A Kristie who was the save and absolute property of the woman she had accepted as her Mistress.

The night of their dinner under the stars had definitely convinced her she loved her Mistress. It did not surprise her at all. Kristie knew how to love a person. She had often been punished for this. Nevertheless she kept falling in love with the ease of breathing. Losing herself into a love greater than that for herself came natural. But this time she knew it was deeper. It was more intense than it had ever been.

"I know, Mistress", she whispered. "This little cunt loves you. She will be yours forever." The truth of it was overwhelming.

A tear clung to the rim of her eye.

Angique smiled. She took the girl's hand to make her rise. Then she closed a leather collar around the her throat and fastened a leash to it. She pulled at it and led Kristie down the hallway. She took her down the winding stairs into the lower levels. They walked the long, sculptured corridor. A breeze made Kristie's nipples harden. She closed her eyes. She lost herself in the sounds of her bare, plodding feet and the tip-taps of her Mistress's heels. Her ass's deepest muscles groped at the fat, black intruder. Her hips gyrated at every step.

Her heart beat loudly. She knew they were heading for a place of incredible passions. Passions that would drown her in waves of pain and pleasure. She knew there would be no return after this day. She also knew it was her destiny. This knowledge threw a cloak of utter tranquillity over the boiling lava of her emotions.

Angique led her into the cage. She pulled a black leather mask over Kristie's head to blindfold her. Then she took the stumbling girl to the slab of marble at the centre. She made her stand there. Her naked, oiled body shone in a circle of torches. They made her curves come alive at every move. Angique took her hands. She kissed them softly. Then she caught the girl's wrists in leather-lined metal cuffs and clicked them together over her head.

Angique ran her tongue in slow, swirling circlets over the oiled skin of the girl's body. She paused at the screaming nipples to suck them in. She caught the ring between her teeth and pulled at it. Lost in her darkness Kristie moaned. She did not know where the incredible touches would materialize next. She felt tiny goosebumps rise all over her body.

The tongue carefully avoided her throbbing clit. But velvet lips kissed the tender insides of her thighs. Gloved hands pushed her legs into a wider stance. Cool metal closed around her ankles. A clicking sound told her that her spread legs were bolted to the floor.

Then a leather palm cupped her exposed cunt. It kneaded it slowly. A searching finger entered her slit.

"Mmmm", she heard her Mistress say. "My lovely slut is so wet already."

A surge of pride washed through her.

After a minute's silence metal chains rattled anew. She felt a tugging at her wrists. Her hands were pulled up. She stood fully stretched. Only her toes touched the marble.

Another pause gave her time to feel the strain build in her arms and shoulders. She did not know how long she would be hanging like this. She tried to ignore the pressure. Then, without warning, a flash of pain hit her right tit. She screamed, as much of pain as of surprise.

Angique's voice was soft, even tender.

"Just so I am sure I have your attention", she said. "You know, little darling, today you'll die. Today Kristie will leave your life forever. Tell me you won't miss her."

"I won't miss her", Kristie said immediately. "I am so glad you'll get rid of her."

There was silence. Then a tiny silver chuckle fell into it like a pebble in a quiet pond.

Pain slashed through her left tit. She winced. She did not cry out.

"Just to be sure you are still here, love", Angique said. "Tell me, will the new girl be worth my troubles?"

Again Kristie did not hesitate. "Oh, she will, sweet Mistress. She will serve you with her body and soul. Please take her, she'll love you!"

Another silver chuckle. "Lo-ove", Angique's voice drawled. "Such a popular concept. Please tell me about this... love?"

Kristie was dumbstruck. Love was love, what was there to explain?

"I... I can't, Mistress. Love is, well, love is love. One loves a person. One just knows."

Another flash of pain hit her thighs. It struck right beneath her spread pussy. She winced, then sobbed.

"Please... ," she whispered. "Please help me understand."

"Don't talk to me about love, cunt", Angique said. But her voice was sad, not at all harsh. "Don't you ever."

"No, Mistress, I am sorry," Kristie said.

A cool, slick finger traced the hot slashes on her thighs. Then a soft tongue spread her cunt-lips. It dwelt on her hard, throbbing clit. She moaned. The pain had heightened her senses in a way she did not understand. And now the tenderness pushed her close to the fuzzy edge of an orgasm.

But Mistress did not allow her to fall into it. She took away her fingers and her mouth. She left her floating in a murky sea of frustration.

Then the touch returned. It was a pair of moist lips closing around her right nipple. It sucked her in. Then two fingers pinched the nipple and twisted it left and right. They sent electric shivers into her.

A sudden bite tore through the aroused flesh. It felt as if a small rodent clenched its jaws around it and kept dangling. But in the cruel echo of the bite her other nipple was sucked. Both sensations struggled for her attention.

"Ooooh", she moaned. She hung limply in her chains. Then the second little animal bit her and she came. She shook, her muscles spasmed.

"Mmmmm, goooood", Angique groaned. She bent forward to lick the squirting nectar off the girl's slit.

"You are such a sweet lil slut, my darling whore. I am so proud of you."

Darkness again. It was a darkness wrapped in silence. The only sounds were her thudding heart and gasping breath. The orgasm had washed over her from the back of her neck down to her curling toes. It still echoed inside her. It made her skin ripple all over her stretched body.

"Darling", she heard her Mistress say. She tried to be attentive and hear every word through the buzz of her afterglow. "Darling, have I ever told you about the King's whores?"

She had no memory of it. She shook her masked head.

"No, Mistress."

A slick leather gloved hand started caressing her as the voice went on.

"The old Kings of France had the right to mark women who had broken his laws. They became his property. He could make them do whatever he liked. They were called the King's whores and gave their services to the King and his friends."

"Today", she went on after a pause. She pulled at the things that bit her nipples. It sent new bolts of pain into her body. "Today you will become your Queen's property, sweet little slut. For Her to decide your destiny. Today you will be marked as your Queen's whore."

Kristie gasped. The enormity of the moment sank in.

"Tell me you understand, little girl".

A leather hand cupped her cunt. It still shivered.

"I understand, Mistress. And I thank you."

Kristie's voice was very clear.

There was a silence. Then the heels of her Mistress clicked away from her. They returned a moment later. In between she heard metallic sounds with her heightened sense of hearing. A waft of smoke tickled her nostrils. Then heat radiated against her face.

"The King marked his whores with the sign of the French lily. He did this by branding that sign into their flesh."

Angique's voice was sweet and tender.

"Kristie," she went on. And the heat almost seared the girl's face. "Kristie, this will be the last decision you will take in your life. So pay attention to my questions."

Sweat leaked from under the leather mask. A tremble ran down her skin. But she nodded and whispered:

"I am ready, Mistress."

"Will you accept this mark of the French lily? It will make you mine forever, Kristie."

Kristie's voice again was as clear as a silver bell.

"I accept with all my heart, Mistress. Please, please take me. Take my life."

The heat changed its position. It now hovered over her left tit.

"Tell me, Kristie. As a last gesture of independence I allow you to suggest where you shall be marked. The decision of course will be mine. Will it be on your titflesh?"

The glow crawled to her belly.

"Or on your belly?"

It travelled to her shoulder now.

"On your shoulder, darling?"

Then it stopped right over her right ass cheek.

"Or will it be on this lovely tanned cheek? Oh my, look how tight and strong it is. Watch how it ripples like the skin of a thoroughbred."

Kristie felt the heat almost sear her skin. A tiny squirt of urine escaped her cunt lips. It ran down her inner thigh. Angique's voice seemed farther away.

"Please tell me, darling. I shall honour your last wish."

Kristie swallowed.

"On top of my right cheek, please, Mistress."

A brutal pain sank into the flesh of her right buttock. A whiff of burning skin crept into her nose. She screamed at the top of her lungs. She screamed on until her throat gave out.

Then a merciful weakness made her pass out.

Money.

Brigitte awoke. Her whole body was a sore lump of exhaustion. The pain centred on her cunt and ass hole. Her limbs felt as if paralyzed.

She lay on a bed in a room with closed curtains. A hotel room, it seemed. The bed was soft. Only a sheet covered her body. No one else seemed to be in the room. She moved and groaned, not a muscle was without pain. Her jaws hurt. And when she tried to sit up, her whole body started to tremble without control.

She uncovered herself and stared at the many tiny red creases that criss-crossed her skin. From her chin down to her toes her entire body was marked with the little lines. They must be the result of the shining black rubber that had covered the body of the floating woman she had seen in the mirror. They must have swathed her body like a mummy's before pouring the vinyl all over her. It had immobilised her into a black statue.

A hot surge of indignation rose inside her. They had drugged her. Then they had taken her body and changed her into a sex-robot. They hadn't even taken the trouble to ask her, to give her a choice. She felt totally raped, utterly abused.

She started crying.

The last wrecking sobs subsided. She again looked around. They must have dumped her here, after peeling the rubber off her body. On the table next to the bed she found an envelope. It contained a swab of American dollars and a tiny card that only said Thank You.

Her fingers fumbled with the notes. She could not keep her professional mind from counting them. It was a thousand dollars, more than a fortnight's earnings at the restaurant. God, she had been made a whore without anyone asking for her consent. She felt totally ignored and debased. Cathérine and this Asian woman had not considered it a necessity to ask her. Or even inform her. They had discarded her humanity and turned her into a receptacle. They had made her into an object of lust and desire. Anyone who'd cared could have stuck a tongue or a cock into her.

And she had enjoyed every second of it.

The truth hit her hard. It made her fall back on the bed. But new tears failed to come. She was a whore. She really was a slut at heart. A woman who would do anything. She would accept anything to find satisfaction.

The conclusion made a great calm descend on her. To discover what you are can have a soothing effect. Even if you abhor what you find. She knew she was submissive. She loved to please. She found pride in serving.

And she knew she found it extremely difficult to say no.

There is a condition called land sickness. It hits some people who have been on a boat for a while, or on a transcontinental flight. Even people who use elevators in extremely high buildings can get it. When they reach solid ground again, it turns out that it is not solid at all. They start to get dizzy when they walk. They can even lose their equilibrium and fall on a perfectly level street.

Brigitte tried to get off the bed and the floor seemed to heave. Her head floated. Her knees hardly supported her. She sat down again and closed her eyes. What had they done to her? And what would they do more, if she let them?

She of course felt the dilemma of the money. She worked her ass off at the damn restaurant. This money could set her free. She laughed ironically at the notion. By selling herself she set herself free? Angique would love the paradox.

The name just slipped into her thoughts. A tear ran down her cheek. How petulant she had been. How silly her refusal seemed now. One day she refused the innocent shaving of her head, a few days later she floated in this eerie white room. A black rubber statue to be fucked by anyone who happened to pass by.

She sighed and again tried to master the floor. She did a few steps and felt the dizziness leave. Her head cleared. Her legs held her up. She found the bathroom, emptied her bladder. Then she saw herself in the mirror. My God, how she looked. Her face was covered in a thick salve. Where she removed it, the skin was red. It must have been the latex they had painted straight on. The cream must be meant to repair the damage.

Goddammit! God-awful woman to do this to her.

She stared at her face for a while. Then she stepped into the shower and took a long, hot bath. When she got out, she dried herself. And she wondered for the first time how she would ever be able to leave, being totally naked. She walked back into the room and opened a closet. The long sleeved dress inside was exactly her size. So were the panties, pantyhose and bra. They covered her marked body. Beside that they were very fashionable. In fact they were better than anything she had ever worn.

She slipped into the modestly heeled pumps. Then she walked over to the vanity mirror in the bathroom. She covered her reddish face with a nice make-up foundation. She did her eyes and mouth and then saw the dark sunglasses.

"Thank you", she murmured. She donned them before leaving the room.

That night she called in sick. She stayed in her apartment. The red lines and the ruddiness of her face cleared quickly. Soon all that was left was a sweet bundle of American dollars. And the slight nudging of guilt at the back of her mind.

How could she be this indifferent? She had been raped and abused. But she found all kinds of excuses to make herself believe it had not been like that at all. She had been working. She had been a piece of art, a part of something big, something cultural. And something that paid handsomely.

The phone rang. It shook her out of her circle-like thinking. It was the Asian woman. She asked if Brigitte felt okay. She was awfully sorry she had not asked for her consent. But she had utterly fallen for her sweetness. She had got all greedy. Bla, bla and so on. Brigitte did not answer, even after the woman had fallen silent.

"Are you there, honey?", she asked.

"Fuck you", Brigitte answered. She broke the connection. Then she undressed, showered and went to bed.

But of course reality would not accept her refusal. It never had. Why would it now? When the oriental woman called her again, she had not turned down the offer. She even apologized for her rude answer before. She knew she could not live the way she had anymore. Either way she'd be a machine. Why not be a fucking machine and earn a lot of money? Her only alternative was to be a serving machine. She would make peanuts in ten times the hours.

She had always been a dutiful person. To have a job and go there on time had been like breathing. It was just the thing you did. You did not have to like it or find fulfilment in it. It was like eating your breakfast and doing your laundry. No questions asked, only answers accepted.

Her last experiences had been sensational. But had they differed much from her usual life? No one had asked her to do what she had done. She had just consented as always. Sure, presenting your body for free abuse might seem something altogether different from serving food and drinks in a restaurant. But to Brigitte it did not feel so different at all.

Of course there had been the passionate climaxes. They had wrecked her body for hours without pause. But it had never really touched her inner self. She had been used with cold distance and anonymity.

The next weekend they sent her to New York. It was the thrilling paradise of her youngest dreams. But she had seen nothing of the city. They had blindfolded and drugged her as soon as she left the airport. Next thing she knew she was dangling stark naked from a huge wooden cross. It was dramatically lighted from below. She looked down on a vast dining hall. Rich people were eating and making polite conversation. They ignored her with an exquisite lack of interest. Then the dinner was over. They lowered her cross and the two other crucified girls on the walls left and right of her. She was fucked in all her orifices until unconsciousness closed her eyes.

From New York they took her back to Montreal. There she had been turned into a white plastered sphinx. Her body had been forced into a statuesque position. Then they adorned it with huge, white-feathered wings. Her tits were enhanced. They made them swell the plaster into spiked balloons. Then they painted her cunt lips and the rim of her sphincter with an arousing liquid.