Annie did her best to recall her memories of Paris when she was visiting student at the Sorbonne and wandered the familiar streets of Montmartre with a jaunty skip to her step. She remembered the amusing fact that she was not quite a blushing virgin in those days and had shamefully spread her legs for not just one charming male fellow student, but had also fallen under the wing of a sexually demanding mentor that shared the secrets of artistic composition providing she obeyed his whims for pleasure.

Her master was not a Frenchman.

Apparently, he was one of those characters that had appeared on the streets of the romantic city of love as if by magic and without proper papers to justify his residence. In those days, everyone looked the other way with a “What will be, will be” attitude and commented on the weather.

He was from somewhere in the northern regions of Russia and spoke French with a guttural accent that sounded suspiciously German or Prussian but the smile in his eyes and his charming attitude convinced those around him that he was totally harmless and easy to get along with, all things considered.

Even now almost twenty years later, Annie smiled in the taxi on the way to the hotel as she remembered her eager submissiveness to give the master what he wanted and accepted his commands in the spirit of romance and the hidden lust she harbored deep inside her soul to be a willing doll for his sometimes kinky needs. The other females that strolled along the bridges gave her that knowing look, that said,

“I pity you; you simple fool, giving up your body with so little regard for youth and true love in exchange for mere tutoring and the bindings of older generation ways.”

Annie shook it all off her disinterested shoulders and looked out at the splendid views of a city and citizens bustling with energy and confidence in their superiority over any other location or populace on the planet. The Eiffel Tower in the distance looked as solid as ever and she took some solace in the fact that she was able to navigate just by looking at its location in the clear, smog-free sky. She pitied the poor cities of Peking and Los Angeles for their lack of foresight in monitoring the accumulation of contaminating particles before they became a major problem for a life-style of hedonistic pleasure.

The master painted her “au natural” now in many different poses and then culminated his lesson with enthusiastic humping of the carnal kind allowing her to express her joy without constraint. The sounds of her childish pleasure made the other models and students envious and they wondered how a person as old as the master was able to perform with such vigor morning, noon and night. The talented teacher expired in the midst of a spirited session with a smile on his face that delighted the undertaker that prepared his body for exhibition before final burial. All three of his ex-wives professed their sadness but they saved their real tears for the reading of the will that exposed his many debts exceeded his assets and left them with only his unwanted memory. In simple fact, only Annie with her greedy female needs mourned his passing because she found him to be a lover of gentle passion.

After that, the school dissolved because the lack of a teacher meant all the models sought other employment and the students either gave up their desires for knowledge or found other instructors with an opening for their presence. Of course, the youngest and the prettiest students had no difficulty in finding suitable positions providing they cooperated in taking the position most pleasing to their new patron. The males were mostly on their own, but that was the way of things in the helter skelter world of artistic creativity in Montmartre.

Annie actually took a job as a table girl in a famous bakery coffee shop nearby because she loved the perk of free coffee and croissants early in the morning when she was still tingling with the thoughts of her kinky compliance from the night before. She was able to blend in and make her way without much difficulty because of her ingrained submissiveness that made her popular with even the meanest of the men with money interested in aiding the career of young artists and models lacking funds.

The owner of the bakery was a German woman of stern visage and with an attitude that showed her displeasure with the easy morals of the street girls that wanted nothing more than the happiness of creativity in the midst of chaos. She had a “stable” of sorts with a full half-dozen of the pretty little things and used them to attract investors and citizens of substance that required catering of a special kind for parties in a nocturnal setting. She knew Annie would be a valuable perk for any party because of her stunning beauty and her complete lack of reticence about engaging in the kinkiest of carnal delights.

Her name was Helga and she had introduced the eager Annie to the world of joy in pain with the liberal use of her riding whip and thick leather strap. At first, Annie wanted nothing to do with the arrangement, but she was persuaded to experiment with the concept at the instigation of a convincing model called Simone and her expert use of a talented tongue to make her point.

The stocky body of Helga was covered only with a ballerina’s tutu as she subjected Annie to her tricks and methods of “softening” her resistance. In a way, it looked ridiculous to a casual observer, but Annie knew the older woman had a method to her madness and she was soon begging and pleading for the stern woman to give her respite from the ordeal. Eventually, the German woman called in her assistant Karl with his signature “doggie” finale and he paraded her in front of the other models to show them what was in store for them if they didn’t cooperate fully. In a way, it was all role-playing, but the results were the same with the girls submitting without question to Helga’s unusual style of discipline, even volunteering for special duties of a kinkier nature.