Chapter 38: Leon & Deirdre

Babette awoke. She peered at the illuminated digits next to the bed. It wasn't even six o'clock. The agonizing ache of her jaws of the previous evening had metamorphosed into a headache. She rose quietly without turning on the light and went into the kitchen for aspirin. When she returned she realized that Leon wasn't in their bed. She searched in all four rooms, but he wasn't in their suite.

Where can he have gone at this hour?

In Paris, Leon had filched money from her purse. The bag still lay on the kitchen counter where she had left it previous evening. She looked through it. All of her ready cash seemed to be in it. The rest was secured in Crane's safe.

My key to the E.L. is gone!

Leon had taken it.

He was downstairs, probably in the E.L. enjoying one of Crane's young sluts. Babette felt humiliated. He was still punishing her for not outbidding Lindsey at the auction. It was now a week since she had any pleasurable sex with Leon. Now he was going elsewhere for it, and there was little she could do about it--Leon had a terrible temper!

On the other hand, Leon might not be with one of Crane's young rental females. His liaison might be with a female client.

During the auction, something went on between him and Deirdre. I'm certain of it.

The thought frightened her. She could be losing him already. All because she hadn't been willing to keep bidding for that blonde. She could have easily matched Lindsey's last bid, but had not been willing to spend the money. Alternatively, she could have conferred with Lindsey. She and Lindsey were friendly enough, and the two of them might have come to an arrangement to share Sheila.

Surely Leon wouldn't have objected to that! Then, she and Leon could have used the girl virtually whenever they wanted. Perhaps between the three of them they would have worn the blonde out, but a good whipping by Leon would revive her. If not, she could be readily replaced. Crane had plenty for rent.

Babette knew Leon's tastes. She had learned them before they'd left Paris. In the past he had had liaisons with bisexual women and had even enjoyed watching two of them together. Once, during a menage a trois, he had even screwed a lesbian.

If I'd bought Sheila, it would have spiced our relationship. We'd use her just like I used slaves in the past.

Why did I allow Lindsey to get her? I was cheap!

Now Leon was downstairs, enjoying one of those young sluts. Or, perhaps he was with Deirdre. Because she hadn't outbid Lindsey.

During the entire past week, Leon wanted only one thing of her. Late each evening he took a shower. After it, dressed only in his robe, he seated himself in their large living room armchair and enjoyed a novel while Babette had to service him on her knees.

He read for never less than an hour. Twice, he had continued reading for more than two!

Now Babette's jaws ached all day. She dreaded the evenings. Her sore knees didn't bother her quite as much as her jaws, but even they never had the time to recover.

The second ... or, was it was the third evening? ... her jaws and knees had hurt so much that-desperate--she made him come quickly.

It infuriated Leon. He slapped her face; then while she was still on her knees, he bound her hands behind her back. Then he tore open her blouse, pulled her brassiere down, and used his belt on her.

Then, while her hands were still bound behind her, she had to service him for another hour, but she was unable to make him ejaculate.

After he closed the book, he grasped a rope of her hair and used it as a lever, working her head up and down. Then he gripped the back of her head in his hand and pushed, forcing the huge head of his penis into her throat. He ignored all her tears and gagging. He didn't push her off until he had satisfied himself.

Babette was unable to relax. When the clock read seven-thirty, she swallowed two sleeping pills from the bathroom cabinet and washed them down with a glass of milk.

Then she returned to bed.

It was nearly five-thirty as Leon trotted down the stairs.

He was surprised to encounter Deirdre, entering from the stairwell door, on the third floor landing.

"Leon!" the bleached blonde exclaimed, stopping him with a hand. She looked delighted, and she put her arms about him.

"Well!" Leon said, smiling down at her; "Deirdre, are you ever an early bird!"

"I never sleep well when I visit the Academy," she said. "I'm a city girl, Leon. It's too quiet here. I'm going to the Coffee Shop. Come along and keep me company."

Deirdre was dressed in a white, short-sleeved nylon blouse and a checked, black and crimson skirt. Leon thought it looked like wool, in spite of the torrid climate. The blouse was translucent. Leon could see both the bumps of her nipples and their tint. Her breasts looked firm enough without a brassiere.

Before he could respond, she asked, "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

Leon grinned and encircled her in his arms. As he put his lips to hers, he felt Deirdre's tongue. It wormed between his lips and pressed against his teeth. He opened his mouth, and her tongue immediately slipped in. Her hands gripped the back of his head.

Her large breasts squashed against his chest and felt cool through the cotton of his shirt.

Leon lowered his hands and pulled her blouse from the elastic of her skirt and slipped his hands up under it. He cupped her breasts. They felt weighty and too large for him to completely enclose in his hands. His fingers touched her nipples. They were hard. He grasped them between his thumbs and forefingers and began to knead them.

Deirdre cried, "Nnuh!" and the sound seemed to transmit internally from his mouth as much as through the air to his ears.

He squeezed her nipples, hard.

Deirdre moaned again, and she closed her eyes. His penis was hard, pressed against her abdomen through their clothing.

He withdrew his hands and grasped the front of her blouse. He inserted his fingers between two buttons and, levering with his muscular arms, he jerked it open. It ripped, and buttons ricocheted from the cinderblock walls. A sleeve slithered down Deirdre's arm and dangled from her wrist. Her blouse hung open and her bare breasts, firm as a high school girl's, jutted out at him.

He grabbed her nipples and pulled. Her breasts elongated and became shaped like huge pears. Deirdre moaned again, louder.

Leon felt her hands upon his erection, through his trousers. He heard the quick sharp 'zip' of the fly fastener; then he felt the breeze of the stairwell on his naked cock. It tickled like a camel's-hair brush across the head.

She grasped the hem of her skirt and jerked it to her waist. She was naked under it.

He released her nipples and lowered his hands. He placed them, palms down, on the skin around her navel. His forefingers searched lower, and found the crevices between her belly and her thighs. She shuddered and gasped.

He stepped back for a moment and looked down. She had a neatly-trimmed blond muff, with darker roots and below, long and shapely legs, and bare feet in sandals. Her protruding toes were topped with crimson toenails.

He reached up and grasped her nipples.

Deirdre backed toward the wall, unconcerned that her breasts had elongated into cones as she pulled against Leon's grip. Leon followed her, his penis bobbing with each step. Deirdre leaned back until her shoulders, one of them bare, were against the unpainted cinder block wall.

She grasped his erect cock and pulled him by it until it was between her legs. She spread her legs further apart and pointed it upward in her groin.

"Fuck me, you hunk!" she exclaimed.

Her voice echoed in the stairwell, and they laughed.

Warmth and tightness gripped his penis. He released her nipples, and her breasts bounced back to their natural shape.

Leon slipped his arms about her and grasped her buttocks between his fingers and thumbs. He thrust his belly and hips forward, and his abdomen struck Deirdre's naked belly.

His cock was snug in her vagina.

Jesus, she's hot!

"What are you laughing at?" she said.

Her hands were about the back of his neck, and she began to thrust her hips forward and back. Her belly beat his with machine gun rapidity.

"I wasn't laughing."

He tried to match her rhythm, but his thrusts and hers were uncoordinated and, despite Leon's grip on her tensed buttocks, his cock escaped. It bobbed in the air between them, wet and glistening.

"Now you're laughing!" she exclaimed.

They continued down the stairs. "You did a job on my shirt!" she said, looking down.

"I'll buy you another," he said.

As they descended, Leon was unable to resist glancing at her breasts. They bounced seductively each time she made a step and he felt his penis again growing hard.

"Don't bother," she said. "That fuck was worth ten blouses!"

Leon was annoyed whenever a woman uttered four letter words. The sole time that he didn't mind was when she uttered them in the heat of sex.

"Are you going to the Coffee Shop?" she asked.

"The E.L." he responded. "I've never seen it."

"It's too early, Leon. You won't find a single slave in the lounge at this hour."

"I'll look anyway. Go change that blouse."

Even if she's right, I'll take some photos of the room and its racks.

She smiled. "Come upstairs with me while I change. Then the two of us can visit it together. In a half hour or so there ought to be at least a couple of slaves mounted in there."

In a bantering tone, he asked, "What's your interest in the E.L.? Are you a closet lesbian, Deirdre?"

"No, but if you and Babette stay here long enough, you'll understand why women visit the room."

Leon knew very well why female clients visited the E.L. All of the women clients visited it and, according to Babette, their motive was simple. They enjoyed watching male clients, many of whom were old and ugly, abuse pretty young women. It was entertaining!

Using a whip or a prod, a woman could compel the girl to do something lesbian. Even straight women sometimes liked to humiliate a pretty girl in that way.

"You can't imagine how pleasant it is to have another female for a slave," Deirdre said.

"What about male slaves?"

"Crane doesn't put male slaves in the E.L., Leon. But, any of his female clients enjoys a male in her bedroom from time to time."

"Have you ever bought a slave?"

"I've shared ones, with a friend. Do you remember Esther? She was with us when we met on the stairs on the day of the last auction."

Leon knitted his brows. "I think so. Is she a small brunette, fifty-ish?"

Deirdre nodded. "About five feet five, moderately pretty, with brown hair. She's been coming to the Academy since Crane's second year. I came with her on my first visit here, the year before last. We shared an apartment. I would have preferred a male, but Esther wanted to rent one of the girls that Crane keeps here for lease. I went along, since she knew the Academy, and I didn't."

"What did you make the girl do?"

Deirdre laughed, but her face was pink. "There's no way that I'll tell you that!"

Leon smiled. "I didn't think anything would embarrass you."

"I see no reason to tell you about it, Leon. I never even told Esther what we did. I never asked her what she did with Patty, either."

"Did you use a whip on her?"

"Of course. Sometimes, even a whip wouldn't persuade her. I don't know if Babette told you this, but Crane loans any client who rents a female, a set of 'tools'. They're more effective even than a whip. Jeff makes the tools in the Machine Shop. Each of the tools fits on a place on the female body. Some are mechanical and do things like squeeze. Others are electrical. They plug into a wall outlet."

"If this Patty was one of Crane's rentals," Leon said; "I wouldn't think you would have to do much persuading. She must have been accustomed to doing what her previous Masters and Mistresses ordered her to."

"Not Patty," Deirdre said. "Only one man owned her before Esther and I rented her. It wasn't hard for me to make her do things for me when we were alone together but, when Esther and I threw a party, she was difficult. She hated it when we had women guests."

They reached the Main Floor, and Leon said, "Well, I'm going to the E.L. now. I'll meet you there later."

"Leon, why don't you come upstairs with me, first? You're wasting your time going to the E.L. this early."

"I'm sure. Go change your blouse."

She pouted, but Leon was adamant.

"Well, all right," Deirdre finally said. "I'll meet you there."

Leon waited until she had started back up the stairs. Then he pushed open the door into the Main Hall.

"I'll meet you!" Leon heard her call. He didn't respond.

Leon was glad that she hadn't come with him. Even if no slaves were in the E.L., he'd still have the opportunity to look over the equipment and furnishings and he could take a few photos of the room and the racks.

Leon stepped into the E.L. and closed the door behind him. His slippers sank into the thick maroon carpet that covered the room from wall to wall. The E.L. was large, and he guessed that it was twice the size of the Main Lounge, the largest room he had thus far seen in the Academy. There were no windows. The room resembled the Main Lounge in its liberal supply of comfortable armchairs but, the chief difference between this room and the Main Lounge, aside from its size, was its furniture.

There were no lamp stands, statuary, wall paintings, or cocktail tables. In their place were racks and pillories. It differed from the Training Center with all of its racks, by this room's many comfortable armchairs.

A line of hooks was mounted on the wall behind him. Each hook held some device by a leather loop in its handle. Judging from the wires and plugs attached to some of them, a few were electrical.

He looked around the room. All of the chairs, racks, and pillories were empty.

Deirdre was right; it's too early in the day for any slaves to be here.

He stood with his back to the entrance and took three shots of the room. One was of the ceiling, and included its hanging chains and manacles. The other two photos were of each sidewall and included the hooks and devices which hung from each as well as a number of racks.

Leon heard the snap of a key in the door behind him, and he hastily returned the camera to his pocket.

He expected to see a blue girl, but it was Deirdre. She'd arrived sooner than he'd anticipated. She had replaced the torn blouse with a similarly-tailored sky blue one, and she had replaced her woolen skirt with a midnight blue cotton miniskirt that displayed her long legs well.

Damn! I was hoping blue girls would bring in a trainee before Deirdre changed her clothes.

"I told you it would be empty," Deirdre said, smirking. "You should have come upstairs with me. Have you just been standing here? Why didn't you sit down?"

"I looked around a bit."

They heard whimpering from across the room.

Deirdre's eyes widened.

"It sounds like there's a slave over there, near the far right corner."

They wended their way toward the sounds, passing several armchairs and an 'Ex' that was similar to the one near the doorway in the T.C ... The room differed from the T.C. in another way that he hadn't noticed. Each rack was located in an open area under an overhead spotlight with four or five armchairs arranged in a semicircle facing it.

"Look!" Deirdre exclaimed, pointing; "Over there!"

Leon saw a brunette across the room, near the back wall beyond another rack. She lay on her back upon some low device and wore a trainee's uniform.

"She must have been here all night, Leon!" Deirdre said. "I'll bet she's a mess by now!" She grabbed his arm. "Let's go see!"

"It isn't that early, Deirdre. Blue girls are out of bed long before you lazy clients get up. They probably brought her just before I got here. If we hadn't talked so much on the stairs, I'd have met them in here."

Deirdre snorted. "Leon, you don't know what you're talking about!

"If they brought her in this morning, they'd have brought her roommate too. They always bring them two at a time. That girl was probably here yesterday, along with her roommate. Whatever their reason, when they took her roommate back to her cell, the blue girls left her here."

"Why? What's the point of leaving her?"

Deirdre shrugged. "You don't think that Crane always gets obedient girls, do you? Sometimes he gets a strong-willed bitch. Sure, maybe her trainer can make her kneel and suck his cock, but Crane's male trainers are young thugs. They use whips and prods.

"The clients here are cultured men and women that sit around and watch. A young bitch isn't likely to do what some gray-haired old client tells her to do!"

"So? What are you getting at?" Leon said. "What does that have to do with the brunette over there?"

"Yesterday, she was probably disobedient. That's why the blue girls left her here. When they came here last night to take the slaves back to their cells, some client complained about her-said she was uncooperative. So they left her here."

"As punishment?" Leon looked skeptical. "What's so unpleasant about a night in a rack? It's just a little uncomfortable."

Deirdre gave him a patronizing smile. "Think about it, Leon," she replied; "Last night, she was the only slave here. All the rest were back in their cells for the night."

"So?"

"You know our habits, Leon. Clients sleep late. We're night owls, here."

"That's because parties are at night," he said.

"What do you think a single man does here on a night when there's no party, Leon?"

"Single? I'm single."

"What I mean Leon," she said; "is, a man who arrives here at the Academy without a female companion. One who hasn't rented or bought a female slave."

He shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Leon, when you get horny, you fuck Babette. What can a male client do here at night if he has no partner or slave?"

"Jerk off," Leon replied.

Deirdre grimaced. "Perhaps. But, on non-party nights, most single men come down here to the E.L. It may be more expensive than masturbating, but clients have money. In any case, the E.L. is cheaper than renting or buy a female from Crane."

"I see. If they're fortunate, a slave girl will be down here."

She nodded. "Sometimes we female clients come down here at night, just to see the action. It isn't as intimate as a party, but it can be interesting. Sometimes we even participate."

Leon smiled. "How?"

"There will be a girl on the 'propeller'. Then we do more than just watch the male clients! We can join in."

"The propeller?" Leon asked, puzzled by the name.

"It's over that way. The girl might be on it."

She led the way between the racks.

"You haven't explained why leaving a trainee here overnight is punishment," Leon said.

"When there's no party, a 'single' male client comes down here and if he finds a girl in a rack here, he fucks her. So what? Where's her punishment?"

"You haven't guessed, have you?" Deirdre responded.

"If there's no party," she said; "or if the parties are only by invitation, Leon, you'll find a gang of horny guys down here! Can you imagine what it's like for a girl to get gang-banged for a whole night? She won't be just screwed, either. Crane's clients are weird!"

Leon counted eight racks as they wended their way between pillories and armchairs. No two of the racks in the room were the same, although he'd seen duplicates of some in the T.C. After the Ex, they encountered a pillory and then a strange looking device with two pillars and a crossbar. The structure resembled an enormous 'H'.

Leon ducked his head to avoid manacles hanging from the ceiling. Deirdre ignored them as their height was above her head.

They reached an open area, which was partially surrounded by padded armchairs. Four chains and handcuffs dangled over the clearing, and Leon again ducked his head. At the same time, they both stepped over four manacles that protruded up from the carpet. Leon wondered why four handcuffs above and below; all of the previous ones had all been pairs.

Maybe two slaves are mounted here.

He wondered if the slaves faced each other.

Illumination came from recessed spotlights that cast wide beams of light down between each pair of ceiling chains.

"Oh!" Deirdre said, suddenly stopping. "The girl is on the propeller!"

Leon could tell that the girl was prone on her back, but the rack she lay on was too low for him to see its shape.

"Just wait," she replied, smiling.

Leon wondered what there was about the rack that could be amusing.

Leon recognized the girl on the rack. She was the one in the photograph that the Director had shown him. It was the French console's daughter, Janine.

Her figure wasn't typical of Crane's female captives, with their voluptuous centerfold model figures. Nevertheless, she was attractive. She was slender. Her blouse was partly open and one breast was exposed. It was well-formed but small for Leon's taste-far from the size of Sheila's or Deirdre's. Besides that, ther girl's prone position diminished its apparent size even more.

"I see why you call it the 'propeller'," Leon said, grinning.

It had evidently been constructed from three flat-topped benches. One end of each bench had been cut off to form an obtuse wedge, and the three cut ends had been butted together to make a rack resembling a three-bladed propeller.

Deirdre looked up at him. She said, "You can't imagine how the clients used her, Leon!"

"Oh, no? It seems obvious," Leon responded.

"Oh, you think it is, do you?" Deirdre said, in a smug tone. "What's so obvious?"

Deirdre seemed confident that he would be wrong. Leon tried to imagine what could be incorrect about his guess.

Janine's upper torso, from her head to her waist, lay on one leather-padded arm of the device. Her arms were held down and were vertical from her shoulders to her elbow joints. Leon was unable to see her forearms, which were horizontally under the bench. He presumed that handcuffs beneath it kept her wrists together. Her hips were scantily covered by a miniskirt and were supported by the propeller's center. Her bare legs were held apart, and each one lay stretched out along the top of an arm, with her ankles held tightly down by straps.