Ch.42

While the Baroness was in the nation's capital taking care of Captain
America and Wonder Girl the other members of Morpheus' terrific
troika, the Countess and the Duchess, were taking care of some
business of their own. The French femme was in her limousine speaking
on the telephone, her dutiful daughter Anastasia sitting patiently at
her side.

She was dressed in a black wool Chanel suit, the skirt hiked up high
on her bare legs. A fox fur was flung carelessly over it in deference
to the autumn chill. The dark hat and sunglasses gave her an air of
mystery and the black gloves added a welcome touch of elegance.
Currently one of those gloves was thrust between her spread legs,
massaging her pussy through her white lace panties.

"Socialite Silver St. Cloud?" she was saying. "That is indeed good
news Dream Lady. But let's keep this between you and I for now; it
will be an excellent surprise for later. Oui, I will be there
shortly."

She hung up the phone, a slight smile on her face; everything was
beginning to come together quite nicely. Not bad for a girl from
rural Louisiana. Oh yes, the woman who had risen to become the most
powerful Madame in Europe, and to rule like a Queen from her châteaux
outside Paris was not even French! And that was not the only thing
that nobody knew about the woman who called herself Antoinette du
Sommeil.

The Countess was born to a poor family in the farming town of
Beaumont, deep in the Louisiana bayou. The youngest of six children
and the only girl, she had led a singularly boring existence. Tall
and gangly, Anna-Lou Carter excelled in athletics and was generally
well-liked. Well by the boys at least.

Even at a very young age, it was obvious that Anna-Lou was different
than the other local girls. With her long, silky black hair, large
blue eyes, and full lips anyone could tell that she was destined to
be a stunning beauty. Unfortunately, being remarkable in a community
where plain was the norm was not an easy way to grow up. The girls
made her life miserable; her own mother always told her that she
was "wicked". It grew to the point of being unbearable.


So, at just sixteen years of age and with very little knowledge of
the world outside the bayou, Anna-Lou ran away. She went to the only
place a girl from the Louisiana back-country would think to go, the
big city, New Orleans. After changing her name to Anne Beaumont,
after the town where she was born and raised, the young beauty set
out to find a job.

She was pleasantly surprised to discover that a girl with her body
would have no trouble finding work in the Big Easy. Of course it
required her to dance naked on a stage in front of men, but as long
as those men were throwing money at her she didn't care. The place
where she worked, the Kitty-Kat Lounge, was a bit of a dive but at
least the manager Tony seemed like a good enough guy and hadn't
questioned her much when she told him that she was nineteen.

Her first few months on the job went by like a blur. She had gotten
her own apartment and an increasingly growing group of regular
customers who came specifically to see her. She was making more money
than she had ever seen in her life and was able to buy all sorts of
sexy clothes and shoes. She had never had more than one pair of shoes
at a time and now she had over twenty pairs!

Not everything was great of course. Her apartment was a dump. The
other girls at the club didn't seem to like her much, not that this
bothered her. She had grown use to the jealousy of other women and so
she simply ignored them. A bigger problem was that more and more of
the men who came to see her wanted her to do more for them than just
dance. Tony took care of any of them that got out of line and she
began to think of him like a big brother. This was her first mistake.

It was a quiet night, a Tuesday, and Anne was halfway through her
first set when the woman walked in. She noticed her right away for
several reasons. First very few women came into the Kitty-Kat Lounge
that didn't work there. Anne had heard that lesbians frequented some
of the clubs, but this wasn't one of them. The other reason the woman
stuck out was her obvious wealth.

The elegant lady, who appeared to be in her late thirties or early
forties, was dressed in an expensive-looking cream-colored skirt-
suit. She wore a matching hat, complete with white fishnet veil, from
behind which she gazed at Anne with sparkling green eyes. The woman,
who was accompanied by two younger men in nice suits, took a table
right next to the stage. She crossed her ivory silk-stockinged legs,
purposefully placed her white leather-gloved hands on her knee, and
proceeded to stare at the young dancer like a fox regarding a
particularly juicy hen.

The girl managed to get through her dance without tripping over her
own feet; a minor miracle considering the embarrassment she felt
under the newcomer's scrutiny. She fairly fled the stage at the end
of the song and began to make the rounds, trying to temp a customer
into a more expensive, personal dance. Even while she flirted with
the clientele, her eyes never left the impeccably-dressed femme.

She watched as the mysterious woman pulled a gold cigarette case from
her white leather purse. She took out one of the cigarettes and
proceeded to fit it into a long, ivory cigarette holder. One of the
gentlemen she was with provided a light and she exhaled into the air
with great style. Anne was fascinated by the display. It was like
something out of the old, black and white Hollywood movies that her
mother had been so fond of. She had never seen a woman so glamorous.

The woman said something to one of her escorts and he rose quickly
and walked away. In a moment he returned with Tony at his side. Her
boss greeted the woman respectfully, going so far as to bend over and
kiss her hand. They talked briefly, their heads close together. Then
they both turned and looked right at her.

The young dancer, nearly jumped out of her skin, embarrassed at
having been caught staring. She tried to pretend that she was talking
with a customer but Tony waved her over. She sighed and walked over
to the table.

"You wanted me Tony?" she asked.

"Yeah, there's somebody that I want you to meet. This is Miss Eleanor
Peacock, one of our best customers."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Peacock," the girl stated,
dutifully shaking the older woman's hand.

"The pleasure is all mine," the femme purred with a smile. "Or I
suspect it soon will be."

Anne didn't know what to say so she returned the smile, although
somewhat unsteadily. She had been surprised that the woman spoke with
an upper-crust British accent. For some reason it made her feel very
inferior.

"You have very nice tits you know," the woman continued. "I'll bet
your pussy is just as tempting. I'd like you to perform a private
dance for my friends and me; so that we can see that pussy up close
and personal so to speak."

"Umm, thanks, but we aren't allowed to take our bottoms off."

"Don't worry about that babe," Tony told her. "Like I said, Miss
Peacock is a very important customer. Sometimes we bend the rules a
little, okay?"

"Okay Tony," she agreed. After all she trusted him and if he said
that it was alright…

"Great let's go to one of the private rooms. It's all set up for you."

He motioned for Anne to lead the way so she started towards the rear
of the club. She moved self-consciously, acutely aware that the
Englishwoman's eyes never left her ass as it swayed back and forth
when she walked in her high heels.

"The Gold Room," Tony instructed as they reached the back area where
the private dances were given.

She walked into the best room in the place and saw that it had indeed
been set up as if for a VIP. The usually saggy chairs had been
replaced by a comfortable-looking velvet sofa; a bottle of expensive
champagne was chilling in a silver ice-bucket. The lighting was dim
and candles had been lit to make it seem almost romantic, a word she
never would have used to describe the place in the past.

The two suited gentlemen sat down on the sofa. Tony got Miss Peacock
a glass of champagne and they stood of to the side. The music
started; a slow, pulsing beat. She didn't know what else to do, so
she started to sway her body in time to the music. She focused her
attention on the Englishwoman who was fitting a fresh cigarette into
the holder.

"Dance for them," she instructed, indicating the seated men. She
accepted a light from Tony and exhaled grandly. "I want you to make
their dicks hard."

Anne turned to the men and began to gyrate before them. She moved as
sensuously as she knew how, using all of the moves that she had
learned in her several months at the club. She shook her shapely ass
slowly in front of their faces and then spun to let them see her tits
as well. Men seemed to like her breasts and liked it even more when
she licked her own nipples. Miss Peacock however was less than
impressed.

"You're going to have to do better than that to get these boys
aroused," she murmured around the holder in her mouth. "Take off your
knickers and show them your slit."

The sixteen year-old stripper swallowed hard and licked her lips
nervously. She reached down and lowered her sequined thong as sexily
as possible.

"Bend over and give them a look," the woman directed next. "Yes
that's very nice. Now spread those pink lips. Good, put your leg up
on the sofa. Oh, your cunt is exquisite. Finger yourself."

Anne followed her commands, losing herself in the hypnotically
rhythmic cadence of the Englishwoman's filthy suggestions. Her pussy
was wet as she slid her fingers in and out, just inches from the
men's faces. They watched her impassively, but she could tell by
their quickening breath that they were just as aroused as she was.
She reached out and impulsively ran her hands over the front of their
trousers. Both men were indeed aroused; hard as rocks and humongous
besides.

"That's better," Miss Peacock encouraged.

She had sauntered over and was now standing directly behind the
exotic dancer. The youngster looked over her shoulder at the woman
who was nibbling daintily on the tip of her holder as she watched.
The wealthy woman smiled at her and pulled the holder out. Thin wisps
of smoke trailed from its mouthpiece as well as from between her red
lips. She blew the smoke towards the ceiling and then moved the
holder to Anne's mouth.

The leggy young brunette opened her lips and let the woman place the
tip in her mouth. She took a quick, experimental puff and exhaled.

"You have such a very pretty mouth," the elegant lady complimented,
handing her the glass of champagne. "Such sensual lips; have you ever
sucked cock?"

Anne took a sip of the bubbly and shook her head shyly.

"What a shame; such a waste of a perfectly lovely mouth. We'll have
to rectify that."

Anne heard a zipper being lowered and turned to see a monster cock
just inches from her face. It wasn't the first dick she had ever
seen, she had grown up with five brothers after all, but it was
certainly the biggest. She gulped and turned to Tony for help. He was
watching with as much interest as the Englishwoman. His expression
was one that she wasn't used to seeing; lustful, hungry.

"Suck it babe," he ordered and Anne knew that she would have no
choice but to obey.

Her head moved tentatively forward and she gave the swollen cock-head
a hesitant kiss.

"How sweet," Miss Peacock smiled, taking the champagne glass
back. "But this isn't a high-school dance darling. Lick it with your
tongue. Excellent; now take it in your mouth."

The girl moaned and did as she was told, licking the shaft before
taking the head in her mouth. The Englishwoman sat down on the sofa
next to the man whom was receiving head. She took a sip of champagne
and reached out with her other hand to massage Anne between her legs.
The feel of the leather glove against her slippery pussy caused her
to moan even louder.

"You've outdone yourself this time Tony," the woman who many in New
Orleans knew as Madame Elle complimented. "With that face and body
she could be a supermodel. Where-ever did you find her?"

"I wish I could take all of the credit Miss P, but she just wandered
in here one day looking for a job."

"How fortunate for you. How much do you want for her?"

"Well she is pretty hot. I was thinking maybe fifty grand?"

"Tony, I can't pay that much for her. She can't even perform fellatio
properly. Just look at her slobbering on that cock, no style
whatsoever! She'll need to be completely trained before I can use her
in my brothel. I'll give you twenty-five thousand."

"Aw, c'mon Elle! Sure she's a little raw, but look at that body. Guys
will be lining up around the block to put their dicks in her. Forty
thousand."

"I'll tell you what Tony; after I work my magic on her this little
slut she'll be one of the best lays on the planet. You can have
thirty thousand and the honor of being her first customer."

"Thirty-five. And I get to fuck her in the ass."

"Done," Madame Elle declared. "Thirty-five thousand and you can
violate the little whore to your heart's content. Marco, pay him."

The man whose dick wasn't being gnawed on rose and handed an envelope
to Tony. He glanced inside it and then tucked it into his pocket.

"Congrats Miss Peacock, you just bought yourself a whore."

"Tony what's happening?"

Anne had heard them talking while she pleasured the man on the sofa.
She couldn't tell what they were talking about, just that they were
haggling over the price of something. She thought that there was
something strange about the conversation, but she couldn't quite put
her finger on it. Her head felt weird all of a sudden, like it was
filled with helium. All she knew was that she was scared.

"Tony, answer me!"

"It's okay babe," he soothed. "You're going to go live with Miss P
for awhile. She'll take good care of you, I promise."

"But I don't want to go anywhere," she whined and started to back
away from the woman on the sofa.

"Obviously the mickey that I slipped into her champagne wasn't strong
enough," the elegant Brit remarked. "Hold her Marco."

The man, who had given the envelope to Tony, grabbed her from behind.
Anne gasped and began to struggle, but he was strong.

"Tony help me!" she pleaded, sobbing.

"Sorry babe, but there's nothing I can do."

"You may leave us Tony," the Madame declared. "Paolo, help her to
relax."

The strip-club owner, the man Anne had trusted, walked out of the
room without even looking at her. Meanwhile, the man whose dick she
had just recently had in her mouth, stood up from the sofa. He
approached her with his still-hard cock hanging out of his zipper.
When he was right in front of her he pulled a cloth out of his coat
pocket.

"Okay girlie, just relax and breathe deep," he instructed gently as
he pressed the rag over her face.

The chemical that the cloth had been soaked in hit her like a blow.
Panic flooded her and she fought for breath only to suck in more of
the noxious chloroform fumes. Her muffled cries were barely audible
and certainly wouldn't be heard in the noisy club. Madame Elle, aka
Miss Peacock, turned away and fitted a fresh cigarette into her
holder. When she turned back, exhaling into the air, she saw that
Anne was still clinging to consciousness.

"My, aren't you a feisty little one," the Madame smiled. "That's
good, my clients like my girls to have a little fire. Just not too
much fire."

She grabbed one of the girl's nipples and squeezed it cruelly. She
gasped under the rag, filling her lungs with one last gulp of liquidy
sleep. Then her eyes rolled up and she fell limp into Marco's arms.
Paolo kept the rag in place for several more moments to insure that
she wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

"Take her out to the car; use the back way. That little display has
gotten me a bit… randy. I think I'll stick around for a bit and get
myself a lap-dance. You may do what you like with the little whore,
just don't leave any bruises."

Her two goons smiled and began walking out, dragging the seemingly
lifeless body of the teen between them. The Madame watched them
leave, drawing contemplatively on her holder. The girl was quite
beautiful and would no doubt prove to be a steal at thirty-five
thousand dollars. She would need seasoning though; perhaps a summer
at the Countess' châteaux in France. But that could be decided later.
Her business was completed, now it was time for pleasure. She picked
up the house telephone.

"Yes, this is Miss Peacock in the Gold Room. Send a few of your best
girls in here." She started to hang up and then reconsidered. "You
had better make that three girls, I'm feeling particularly frisky
this evening."

She replaced the phone on the receiver and sat down on the sofa.
Moments later the door opened and a trio of reasonably attractive
strippers came in. None were anywhere near as sexy as the girl she
had just purchased, but then again that's why they were stripping in
this dive as opposed to working in the most exclusive brothel in the
state.

"Hello ladies," she greeted warmly. "Let's just forget the charade of
you dancing for me and get right down to the orgy, shall we?"

She held up a wad of cash for the girls to see and they exchanged
quick grins and then moved towards the sofa. Madame Elle was well
known at the club and they knew exactly what she wanted. She smiled
softly to herself as the lined up in front of her. Taking of her hat
she set it delicately to the side and removed the dildo from her
purse. They each turned their backs and dropped to all fours, bums
bouncing in the air tantalizingly.

"Where to begin?" she asked herself quietly, as she examined the
display of asses. "Oh the hell with it, you're all going to get
fucked eventually."

She rammed the black phallus into the girl in the middle's anus.
Luckily for her she knew what to expect and had properly lubed
herself. She squealed nevertheless, a sound that was music to the
Madame's ear. It is good to be the Queen she thought to herself as
she reamed the slut's bottom. She wouldn't trade her job for anything
in the world.

"Wake up darlin'," a lilting feminine voice chided. "You can't sleep
all day."

Anne groaned and tried to turn away from the light streaming in
through the now open curtains. Her head ached and her body felt like
it had been put through the wringer. She buried her throbbing head
under the pillow and prayed that the woman would just leave her be.
Her prayer, as well as many more to come, would go unanswered.

"Now is that any way to greet such a beautiful day?" the woman with
the sweet southern drawl laughed. "This is the first day of your new
life."

This last comment struck a chord in the girl and she sat up quickly.
Her new life. What was that supposed to mean? She looked around and
saw that she was in a comfortable, feminine bedroom. It was totally
unfamiliar, as was the attractive blonde standing by her bedside.

"Where am I?" she asked. "And who are you?"

"I know it can be disorienting at first," the blonde
sympathized. "New girls always have lots of questions. That's why I'm
here. My name is Lisa and I'll be helping you to fit in here at
Madame Elle's place. It's called `Maison Rouge', which is just a
fancy way of sayin' Red House in French."

Madame Elle! It was all coming back to her now. The elegant woman at
the club; her dancing for the men and then performing oral sex on one
of them; Tony selling her to the Englishwoman; the men forcing the
drugged rag over her face. It all came flooding back like a bad dream.

"You've kidnapped me! You can't do this!"

"Now, now Sugar just relax. This is your new home; you might as well
make the best of it."

"Like hell!" Anne spat, throwing off the covers and getting up. She
was completely nude. "I'm leaving!"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple sweetie-pie. Nobody leaves Maison
Rouge until Madame Elle says that they can leave."

Anne ignored her and stormed naked to the door. She tried to open it
but it was locked. She pounded on the door and screamed in
frustration.

"Let me out!" she shouted. "Somebody let me out of here!"

The blonde woman sighed and walked towards Anne. "I was hoping that
we could do this nicely, but apparently we can't."

She reached into the pocket over her silk robe and pulled out a small
aerosol spray. Before Anne could react Lisa had raised her arm and a
cool mist shot from the canister. It smelled very pleasant, not like
the harsh chemical that had been used on her the previous night.
Almost immediately a wave of dizziness passes through her. She would
have fallen if the blonde had moved forward to catch her.

"Steady there, you'll feel better in a moment. "

"What did you do to me? What was that spray?"

"Just a little something to make you more manageable Sugar," Lisa
told her. "After the wooziness fades you'll feel absolutely
wonderful. I promise."

The vertigo did begin to pass after a moment, replaced by a surge of
happiness that could only be described as euphoria. This was
temporary as well, but left in its wake a tingling sensation
throughout her whole body. She felt… alive; wonderfully, deliciously
alive.

Anne moaned and squeezed her own breasts between her fingers. Her
nipples were hardening into tight, pink buds; every nerve ending in
her skin seemed to be on fire. She slid her right hand down between
her legs; she couldn't remember ever being this wet before.

"Sorry darlin' but there's no time for that now," the blonde told
her. "The Madame is waiting to see you. There will be plenty of time
for you to explore your budding sexuality later."

She took the girl's hand and led her from the room. They walked down
a long hallway, passing quite a few rooms as they went. There women
in some of those rooms; some were dressing, some brushing their hair,
and some were engaged in altogether different activities. Anne
stopped and stared as a lovely girl, shackled to the bed-posts, was
whipped by another woman who was dressed in a wicked-looking outfit
of black latex. It was the most shocking thing that she had ever
seen, but her immediate reaction was one of… arousal.

The woman with the whip, perhaps sensing that she was being watched,
turned and looked at Anne. Their eyes met and the stern-looking
brunette beauty arched an eye-brow.

"We're sorry to have disturbed your session Mistress Raven," Lisa
said, taking Anne by the arm and pulling her away from the door. "She
is a new girl and didn't know any better."

She proceeded to drag Anne away, the teen looking over her shoulder
the whole way.

"Who was that? Why was she whipping that poor girl?"

"That was Mistress Raven, the resident dominatrix here at Maison
Rouge. And that `poor girl' is one of the richest women in the state.
She pays good money to be `punished' by the Mistress. And unless you
want to taste that cat-o'-nine-tails on your bottom, I would stay
clear of Raven."

Anne didn't respond and Lisa stopped and looked at her. Her
expression looked almost curious.

"What are you thinking Sugar?" the blonde asked. "Don't tell me that
you want to be whipped."

"Of course not," the teen assured her laughing it off. "It's just
that it looked very, I don't know…"

"Erotic?"

Anne thought about that word for a minute. It wasn't a word that one
heard very often on the bayou, but it had a pleasing ring to it. It
was a word that held all sorts of possibilities. Erotic.

She shrugged her shoulders noncommittally and they continued walking
in silence. Lisa led her down a grand spiral staircase and into the
lobby of the huge old plantation house. There was more activity down
here as in the parlor off to the side sat a group of women in
revealing lingerie. They were each apparently trying to catch the eye
of a wealthy-looking gentleman, who was appraising them like a kid in
a candy store; he couldn't seem to decide which of the treats that he
wanted to buy.

"They're all so beautiful. Which one will he choose?"

"When you're as rich as he is, you don't have to choose just one. He
likes to take his time and let the girl's preen for him. He tips very
well, so everybody wants to get chosen. Half an hour from now he'll
have three or four of them doing the nastiest things you could
imagine to each other. Whoever is the sluttiest gets the most money."

Before Anne could answer they were approached by a young lady in a
sexy, little maid's outfit. She dropped a curtsy and addressed Lisa.

"The Madame is waiting for you on the back veranda Mademoiselle
Lisa," she informed Anne's escort in a very proper British
accent. "She requests that you bring Miss Anne to her."

"Very well, thank you Patricia. You may go."

The blonde maid dropped another curtsy and hurried out of the room.

"Even the servants here are beautiful," Anne remarked with awe.

"As are you Sugar," Lisa told her. "You'll fit right in here."

"I don't know…" the teen stammered, blushing prettily.

"Of course you will. A new haircut, new makeup, perhaps some sexy
dresses; you'll be absolutely gorgeous."

"Do you really think so?"

"I have no doubt. Now come, we mustn't keep the Madame waiting."

She led the slightly drugged teen out to the rear of the mansion. The
mist that she had sprayed her with was a mild sedative combined with
a powerful aphrodisiac that had the effect of dazing the mind while
sexually exciting the body. Madame Elle referred to it as
her `Obedience Cocktail'. There is nothing more docile than a sleepy
and horny young woman, she liked to joke. Looking at her companion,
Lisa could see that she was a good deal of both.

The blonde in the champagne-colored silk dressing gown opened the
French doors and stepped out onto the large, shaded veranda. It was
June and already growing steamy hot in New Orleans. A group of the
girls who weren't on shift were out either sunning themselves or
splashing around in the lagoon-style pool. The Madame herself was on
the porch, lying in a comfortable, silk-cushioned chaise. She was
wearing a white, one-piece bathing suit and a wide-brimmed, white sun
hat. In one hand she held her seemingly ever-present cigarette
holder and in the other an Oriental silk fan that she was using to
cool herself. She looked up as the two females approached.

"Ah here you are Lisa. I thought you were going to let her sleep all
day. And how are you dear?"

"She's fine Madame Elle," Lisa replied for her. "She was a bit grumpy
when I woke her up so I gave her a bit of the `cocktail'."

"Yes I can imagine that she would be a little cranky, poor dear. It
can be a little overwhelming to wake up in a strange new place. We'll
do everything we can to make your stay with us a pleasant one. Come
closer and let me get a better look at you."

Anne stepped forward shyly, acutely aware of her nubile young body,
just burgeoning into womanhood. She covered her breasts with her
hands, suddenly feeling frightened of the glamorous woman
scrutinizing her. Miss Peacock quickly recognized the signs that the
effects of the drug was beginning to diminish.

"Lisa be a dear and dose her again, won't you?" she suggested to the
blonde, who acted as her assistant Madam.

The attractive aide already had the aerosol at the ready and quickly
misted the young woman for the second time. Anne's hands dropped to
her sides as the waves of nausea and euphoria raced through her body
before settling into a state of sublime arousal. The Madame brought
the tip of her holder to her lips and took a drag as she watched the
narcotic take effect.

"Such a lovely body," she marveled examining the teen's high, firm
tits. "Turn around dear and let me see that ass. Ummm marvelous; and
such long legs. She must be nearly six feet tall."

"I'm five foot ten inches ma'am," the drowsy girl informed her.

"Excellent, there are many men who like a tall woman; especially one
as sexy as you. But looking good is not the only consideration here
at Maison Rouge is it Lisa?"

"No Madame Elle," the blonde agreed as she gently squeezed Anne's
nipples. "She will have to display other talents as well."

"Let's see how talented she is. Anne, get on your knees."

The captivated teen complied, dropping daintily to her knees. Lisa
moved to her side, spread her legs and took Anne by her hair.

"Have you ever licked pussy before?" she asked. "No? Well just
pretend that you are making out with my snatch. That's a good girl,
kiss that pussy. That's right, nice and wet; use that pretty little
tongue of yours. Mmmm, that's nice."

Though hesitant at first, the chemically aroused girl quickly
responded to the blonde belle's sexy encouragement. She was soon
slobbering over the woman's neatly tended cunt with unconcealed
pleasure while Lisa continued to offer praise and advice.

"How is she darling?" Elle asked. "Her technique seems a bit… sloppy."

"She's definitely far from an expert," Lisa conceded. "But she makes
up for it with enthusiasm."

"Unfortunately I can't charge a thousand dollars an hour for
enthusiasm," the English Madame noted. "I'm afraid that we're going
to have to send her to the Countess. You will accompany her to Paris."

This was not something that Lisa was pleased to hear, but she knew
better than to argue. It was true that after a few months at the
French femme's châteaux Anne would be able to make a woman sigh and
weep with her tongue; but it was also true that she might be driven
mad by the crazy bitch first. Many things happened at that castle in
the French countryside, most of them bizarre. She had
attended `parties' there with Madame Elle; orgies really, where the
masochistic acts committed by the Countess and her husband the count
would make Mistress Raven look like a pacifist. She shuddered just
thinking about it.

"There, there Lisa," the woman in the chaise soothed as she rose to
her feet. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to. I just don't
want our new friend getting lonely on the flight."

She turned her attention to the teen temptress who was still eating
out the blonde's box for all she was worth. The elegant Madame
watched her with interest as she drew on her holder.

"What a truly remarkable find," she murmured to herself. "Someday
I'll have to hear about how you came to be dancing at the Kitty Kat
Lounge. But for now you need some sleep; you have a long flight ahead
of you."

She nodded to Lisa who sighed and removed another aerosol from her
robe pocket. It was different than the one she had used previously on
the girl and obviously more dangerous as she was careful to turn her
face away as she pointed it at the Anne's face as it bobbed between
her legs. A stream of red gas spurted from the spray, enveloping the
youngster's face and then drifting away on the breeze. A cloud of
cigarette smoke followed with it as
Madame Elle exhaled.

"Good night mon cheri," she whispered to Anne, who had fallen deeply
asleep, her cheek resting comfortably on Lisa's thigh. "And bon
voyage."



Anne slowly opened her eyes and stretched. She started to rise but
found that she couldn't. Looking down she noticed that she had a
seatbelt around her waist. But she wasn't in a car. A quick
examination of her surroundings told her the awful truth – she was in
an airplane! But how did she get there? And where was she going?

"Well look who's up; I thought that you might sleep all the way to
Paris."

Anne heard the familiar voice coming from behind her. She turned
around and saw Lisa walking down the aisle towards her.

"There's nothing like traveling by private jet is there?" the blonde
asked as she took the seat next to Anne. "Are you enjoying the flight
so far?"

"Where are we? Where are you taking me?" the girl demanded. She tried
releasing her seatbelt but it appeared to be locked.

"Help! Let me out!" she shouted as she struggled with the belt.

The curtain at the front of the small, luxury aircraft opened and an
attractive, pleasant looking woman in a sexy, light blue stewardess'
uniform approached. The outfit was reminiscent of the 60's glamour-
era of flight attendants, with a seductively short skirt, tight
blouse, pill-box hat, and adorable little white gloves.

"Now dear, what is all that shouting about?" she asked as she came
over to Anne's seat.

"I can't get out of this seatbelt. I demand to be released! Turn this
plane around and take me home!"

"The captain suggests that you stay in your seat while we're in
flight sweetie," the big-titted redhead explained. "The seat
restraint is for your own safety. Why I don't I get you some
champagne to help you relax."

"I don't want champagne, I want this seat to be unlocked! Where are
we going anyway?"

"Why to Paris darling," Lisa supplied, taking a sip from her own
glass. "And you really should try this it's superb."

"I said I didn't want any!"

Lisa sighed.

"Tina, I'm afraid that my friend was asleep when you went over the
safety instructions earlier. Could you run through them again for
her?"

"By all means Lisa," the woman agreed smiling. "As I've said already
you should remain in your seat at all times. There are exits to the
front and rear of the plane. If there is an emergency and we should
lose cabin pressure, a mask will fall down from above your head."

She reached above the confused Anne who was listening intently to the
instructions. The girl had never flown before and was terrified that
she wouldn't know what to do if it crashed. The flight attendant
opened a compartment over her head and pulled out a plastic mask with
tubes attached.

"Simply slip the mask over your mouth and nose," Tina continued as
she slid the apparatus onto Anne's face. "And voila, you will be able
to breathe freely."

"It is also handy for naughty girls who need a nap," Lisa
commented. "Tina, why don't you demonstrate?"

The redhead smiled and pressed a button on the overhead panel. Anne
heard a hissing noise and her mask began to fill with a yellow gas.
Frantically she grasped at her face, trying to pull the mask off, but
the surprisingly strong stewardess pulled her hands away.

"Just relax and breathe," Lisa instructed casually as she crossed her
legs and watched the gas filling the mask with undisguised interest.
Anne was feverishly attempting to hold her breathe while fighting off
the redhead. "Really darling, you are only delaying the inevitable."

She took another sip of champagne and then put the glass aside with a
sigh.

"I guess you need a little help relaxing hmm?" the blond asked.

She slowly brought the index and middle fingers of her right hand up
to her mouth and sucked lazily on them. She then lifted Anne's skirt
with her left and gently slid her wet fingers between the girl's
legs. Her captive's eyes opened wide when she felt the fingers brush
against her pussy. A little moan escaped her lips as one of the
blonde's perfectly manicured nails came in contact with her swelling
clit. It was exactly the opening that Lisa was waiting for.

Anne gasped when she felt the wet fingers under her panties. It was
just a small, quick breath but it brought with it an odd floral
aroma. Almost immediately a wave of languor spread through her body.
It seemed that every ounce of tension had poured from her body like
water down an open drain. She felt her body sink back into the seat,
her arms falling limply back to her sides.

Her breathing was becoming deep and slow, the sweet smell of flowers
permeating her senses like a descending cloud. Through the gathering
haze in her head she could feel the pressure between her legs, as her
companion slowly slid her fingers in and out of her cunt with
delicious deliberateness. She turned towards her and Lisa grinned at
her, never stopping the rhythmic motion of her hand.

"Nightie-night sleepyhead," the blonde smiled. "We'll be in Paris
when you wake."

The girl nodded sleepily to her and closed her eyes. She continued to
fuck her tight pussy with her fingers. A moment later she felt the
girl's body tense up; her muscles inside tightened and Lisa knew that
she was having an orgasm. By all indications it was a good one. After
what seemed forever her body went slack, collapsing in exhaustion.

Lisa removed her fingers from the sleeping girl's twat and licked
them clean, savoring the taste of Anne's juices as much as she had
the fine French champagne.

"Will be anything else?" Tina asked efficiently.

"Maybe one more thing," Lisa replied agreeably, uncrossing her legs
and spreading them.

The redhead licked her lips and dropped to her knees, her face
disappearing between the blonde's perfumed thighs.

"Ummmm, the friendly skies indeed," she purred as she settled back in
her seat. Next stop Paris.

"She is magnificent," the well-dressed, older gentleman was
saying. "She must be six feet tall in her bare feet! And just look at
those tits, se magnifique!"

"She does have a spectacular body," his companion, an elegant femme
with streaks of silver in her pale blonde hair, agreed. "But does she
have the sense of style and elegance to become an expensive
courtesan?"

"Isn't it our duty to impart that to her?" the man inquired as he ran
his hands over Anne's naked buttocks.

"I am a Madame not a miracle worker darling," the blonde pointed out
with a smile. "There is only so much that you can teach these whores,
particularly the Americans. Either they have an innate grace or not.
It is the rare woman who can be both charming at dinner and then
alluring in the boudoir."

"Oui, that is true mon Coeur. And none are better at either than you.
But Miss Peacock picked this one out personally and her instincts are
usually impeccable. Besides, it will be fun trying to teach this one,
no?"

"Alexander! You are such a cad!" she admonished playfully. "But I can
see that you are taken with this one already. Perhaps you would like
to fuck her before dinner?"

"Well, I do think that it would improve my appetite," he allowed with
a grin.

"I didn't think you ever had a problem with any of your appetites,"
she remarked dryly.

"I am simply a passionate man Vanessa," he replied. "And I think that
it is time that I indulged my passions."

He unzipped the front of his tuxedo pants and moved to stand behind
Anne whose arms were encased in shackles that extended from the
ceiling. He began to finger her slit, getting it nice and wet. She
moaned in her sleep.

"I think that she is waking up darling," the woman noted as she
fitted a cigarette into a long black holder.

"And just in time," he muttered as he moved his hand in and out of
her pussy. "I can't wait to get my dick inside this cunt..."

Anne heard voices in her sleep. They sounded far off and hazy and she
couldn't quite make out what was being said. To be honest she didn't
really care; she was so tired that she thought she could sleep
forever.

Then suddenly a shock of pleasure shot through her body, originating
from her pussy. She could feel fingers, strong yet sensitive, gently
massaging the lips of her cunt; making her wet. She tried to move her
hands down between her legs and found that they wouldn't budge. The
probing fingers slid inside her and she groaned in ecstasy.

The voices seemed louder now; she could recognize that of a man and a
woman, speaking in an unknown accent.

"She is waking up darling," the woman said, to which the man replied,
from seemingly right behind her – "and just in time."

His next comment was rather lewd, shockingly so, and Anne forced her
eyes to open. She was staring at a stately looking blonde woman in
perhaps her early fifties. The woman was dressed in a flowing gown of
a filmy black material through which her magnificent breasts were
quite clearly visible. A black mink stole was looped over her elbows
and behind her back and her arms were encased in black kid leather
nearly to her shoulders.

"Bonjour little one," the woman murmured around the cigarette holder
that was clenched between her teeth. She snapped open a gold
cigarette lighter and held the flame up to the tip of her cigarette.
She put the lighter away, removed the holder from between her lips
and exhaled with elegant nonchalance.

"Did we enjoy our flight? I heard it was very… restful."

Anne started to answer, but was interrupted by the most exquisite
feeling between her legs. The entirety of her surroundings revealed
itself to her with sudden clarity. She was standing upright,
completely nude, her arms encased in leather cuffs and stretched
toward the ceiling.

In addition, the mysterious blonde woman was not the only stranger in
the room. There was somebody standing close behind her, a man she
could tell, by the size and strength of his hands as he probed the
slick softness between her legs. The resulting rapture was leaving
her practically speechless with lust.

"Where am I?" she managed to gasp between waves of pleasure.

"Why you are in Châteaux Montblanc my dear," the woman explained as
if Anne should know what that meant. "Your new Mistress, Madame Elle
sent you here to be trained."

"Trained to do what?"

"Why to be a whore of course," the blonde smiled. "And from the look
on your face it will be something that you will enjoy. My husband's
hands are divine, oui?"

Anne craned her neck around to see the source of the ungodly
sensations that were coursing threw her young body. A startlingly
handsome man with silver hair and beard and the brightest blue eyes
was smiling at her. Or leering might be more appropriate, as those
bright blue eyes were filled with sexual desire. His tuxedo pants
were unzipped, revealing his long, smooth cock. He was stroking it
with one hand while he felt her up with the other.

"Who are you?" Anne whined.

Her mind ached to indignantly demand that he stop molesting her, but
her body was in heaven. The woman was right, she was enjoying it.
Perhaps she really was a whore.

Instead of answering the man moved his throbbing cock closer to her,
rubbing the tip of it along her wet slit. She moaned again, melting
in pleasure. She ached to feel him inside her.

"I am the master of the house," he told her finally. "Count Alexander
Montblanc. I am the master of your pussy and you are my cock slave.
Do you understand?"

He placed the tip of his cock into her pussy, causing her to wince in
ecstasy.

"I said do you understand that you are a slave to my cock whore?" he
snarled, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head around
to look him in the eye.

"UH! Yes! I understand!" she pleaded.

"Good."

He slid the length of his dick into her balls deep, eliciting an
animal grunt.

"Tell me that you are my cock slave," he commanded.

"I… I'm your slave," she stuttered meekly.

"My cock slave," he corrected as he thrust into her.

"I'm your cock slave," she agreed breathlessly as she spread her legs
further to accept his enormous dick.

She felt a hand on her cheek and her head was pulled back to face
front. As she turned, the blonde woman exhaled a cloud of smoke
directly into her face.

"And don't before you become to enamored of that cock, you would be
wise to remember that you have a new Mistress as well."

"Ah yes of course," the Count sighed as he continued to pump into her
from behind. "I have neglected to introduce my darling wife, the
Countess Montblanc."

"An understandable mistake lover," the older woman replied with a
smile. "I am sure that her tight, wet pussy is monopolizing your
attention. It is an awfully pretty pussy."

The Countess placed her holder in the corner of her mouth and let her
leather-gloved hand slide down between the girl's legs. She rubbed
the swollen nub of her clit, causing the girl to purr like a kitten.
Her husband moaned as well when she began to fondle his balls with
her other hand.

He pulled out of Anne's cunt an instant before erupting in orgasm,
spraying his seed over her round bottom in thick streams. The girl
came as well, a rather noisy affair that left her shaking in
exhaustion.

"I wasn't finished with her," the Count scolded jovially as he used
his cock to rub his sperm over her ass.

"If I had waited for you to finish on your own we would have missed
our dinner reservation."

"Pierre would have held our table," he protested.

"I am hungry," his wife declared, ending the argument. "And I have
heard that he has several new waitresses that I might like for
dessert."

The Count nodded sheepishly and dropped the subject. He knew better
than to argue with his wife when she had her eye on a new plaything.

The Countess watched him for a moment with a raised eyebrow, as if
waiting for more of an argument. When it was apparent that none was
forthcoming, she turned her attention back to her captive. She
brought her wet glove up to her nose and inhaled lovingly.

"Ah," she sighed. "The scent of an aroused woman; there is no perfume
more alluring."

She moved her hand into Anne's face and let the girl smell her own
juices. The teen nuzzled the leather and began to lick at it.

"I see that you appreciate the aroma as well," the Countess noted
with a smile. "That is good. I have another scent that I hope you
enjoy just as much."

She turned her hand over, placing it over Anne's nose. The palm of
the glove was padded and had been treated with some sort of chemical.
The girl's eyes shot wide open when the medicinal odor reached her
nostrils.

She tried to turn away, but the older woman grabbed her by the hair
and forced the glove into her face. Anne fought, but it was useless;
her grip was like steel. She began to feel dizzy, her vision
wavering. The woman's face was very close to hers. The cigarette
holder was clenched in the corner of her mouth, wisps of smoke
trailing from the tip, and she was whispering soothingly in French.
Anne couldn't tell what she was saying, but her tone was very
relaxing.

Her eyes were getting heavy, too heavy to keep open, so she let them
close. She felt the woman relax her grip on her hair, though she
continued to hold the glove over her nose and murmur in her relaxing
voice. Her body went limp.

"That should be enough I should think," the Count remarked as he put
his cock back into his pants and zipped up. "We don't want her to
sleep all night."

"She won't," his lady love assured him. "I used only a little of the
ether this time; probably too little judging by how long it took her
to go to sleep."

She let the girl go and gazed briefly at her slumped body.

"Oh Elise," she said softly, and a woman appeared instantly in the
doorway.

"You called Mistress," asked the proper-looking young woman.

She wore a smart gunmetal-grey business suit and a white silk blouse
with pearls. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun and intelligent
blue eyes stared piercingly from behind her glasses.

"Get her cleaned up, I shall wish to begin her training when we get
back from dinner."

"Of course Mistress," the young woman responded efficiently. "Would
you like her nude or dressed?"

"Hmm, why don't you put her in something befitting a slave? A collar
certainly, and perhaps some thumb cuffs. I will want her tits exposed
and that her pussy of course. It is a very pretty pussy, is not
Elise?"

"Oui Mistress," the girl allowed with a noncommittal shrug. "I will
see that she is ready."

The Countess nodded and gave her a pat on the cheek.

"Come along darling," she told the Count. "I am positively famished."

"For dinner or for the new waitresses?" he returned wryly.

"You know me too well my love," she admitted. "I may start with
dessert after all."

The handsome couple left the room, leaving Elise to deal with their
newest trainee. Anne, the farm-girl from Louisiana had arrived in
Paris.

Her training began that very night. She was awakened by Elise or
Mistress Elise as she had been instructed to call her. She was led
down the hall, nude, to a room with a huge marble bathtub, sunken
into the floor.

A trio of French maids filed into the room and helped her into the
steaming hot, sweet-scented bubble-bath. Elise had watched as they
scrubbed her all over, before lathering her body and up and shaving
her. They had shaved her legs, her arms, and embarrassingly enough,
her pubic hair. When that was finished she was given a pedicure and a
French Manicure. Her freshly washed hair was cut and styled; her
makeup applied flawlessly. Finally she was given a massage, scented
oils rubbed erotically into her skin. She had never felt so wonderful
in her entire life.

Then it was time to dress. She was laced into an elegant silk corset,
of a deep plum color. The maid cinched it tightly to accentuate her
shapely hips. The garment was designed to lift and display her firm,
round tits. Next black fishnet stockings were pulled up her smooth
legs and attached to the bottom of the corset by violet silk garters.
Then a pair of gloves in a shimmering, opaque black that seemed to
glitter like diamonds was slid onto her arms. A violet silk choker,
sewn with pearls and a single silver loop in the front was placed
around her neck. Lastly they had her stand and helped her into a pair
of purple latex boots with a heel so high that she could barely
stand, let alone walk.

When the pampering was complete they rolled a tall, full-length
mirror over to her. She barely recognized the reflection staring back
at her. Gone was the gawky, Louisiana farm-girl and in her place
stood a radiant sex-goddess; breasts high and firm with large pink
nipples jutting forth magnificently, neatly shaven pussy just begging
to be fucked, and the face of a supermodel.

"I look beautiful," she whispered to herself, running her shimmering
gloved hand down towards her cunt.

"You will do," Elise replied. "Secure her."

The three servants who had been so respectful and gentle now grabbed
her forcefully. Her arms were pulled behind her back and locked
together with shiny silver handcuffs. A purple rubber ball-gag was
jammed into her both and buckled in place. A purple leather leash was
then attached to her choker by the silver loop. It all happened so
fast that she didn't even have time to struggle.

"Come," Elise demanded pulling on her leash. "The Countess is
waiting."

Anne stumbled after the young woman, trying to keep her footing in
the tall boots. She fell several times, earning a few bruises as well
as severe reproach from Mistress Elise. She was relieved when they
finally stopped outside a pair of huge wooden double-doors and her
escort knocked.

"Come in," called a female voice shortly.

Anne was led into one of the most sumptuous suites she had ever laid
eyes on. It was like a palace. And sitting like a Queen on her red
velvet throne, was the blonde woman from earlier; the woman who had
called herself the Countess. She was flipping through a fashion
magazine, a glass of champagne in one hand and her cigarette holder
in the other.

"My, my she looks absolutely magnificent," the blonde said as she
rose from her seat. "You have outdone yourself this time Elise. Here
let me get a better look at you."

She circled the bound beauty, admiring her outfit and the body that
it displayed so well. A long red fingernail traced a light outline of
her erect nipple before trailing down her flat belly to her exposed
pussy.

"Umm wet," she remarked. "That is good; I want you to be wet whenever
you are in my presence."

She studied her a moment longer before turning abruptly and sitting
back down in her gilded, scarlet-cushioned chair.

"She will do nicely Elise," she told the young brunette. "You may
leave us. But first get her out of that gag and cuffs; that's no way
to hold a civil conversation."

Her assistant complied and soon Anne was standing in front of the
woman, self-consciously rubbing her sore wrists.

"Is that more comfortable dear?" the woman asked in a warm tone. "Can
I get you anything? Champagne? Cigarette? No? Then let's get down to
business. Do you know why you are here?"

Anne shook her head uncertainly. Just a few days before she had been
dancing at the club, having a great time, and now she was in a
strange place with strange people. She was scared.

"To put it simply, you are here to learn to be a whore," the Countess
told her succinctly. "Your new Mistress Madame Elle is paying me a
lot of money to groom you into a high-class prostitute. You look
magnificent, the very epitome of an expensive courtesan. But looks
are only a small part of being a proper whore. You have much to
learn."

She stood and walked back to Anne. She studied her for a moment while
she chewed thoughtfully on the tip of her cigarette holder.

"You will need a new name for starters," she decided. "You are no
longer Anne. For the rest of your stay in Paris you will be known as
Antoinette. Do you like that?"

"Yes," the teen whispered.

"Excellent. Then there is just one more thing to discuss before we
get started."

She turned away and walked over to a table to pick up an item before
returning to Antoinette's side.

"What's that?" the girl asked when she saw the small jeweled box in
the woman's hand.

"This is a snuff box that belonged to Marie Antoinette herself," the
Countess informed her. "It is for you. It will help you to remember
that you are a slave while you are here."

She opened the box and white smoke began to immediately drift up from
beneath the lid. The smoke smelled sweet, like burning incense.
Antoinette breathed in some of the vapors and immediately began to
feel dizzy. She would have fallen had the woman not caught her and
laid her down on a sofa.

"That's right dear, just relax. This can be a little disconcerting at
first, but you'll get used to it. It is unfortunately a necessary
part of your training. Some girls try to run away and I can't have
that. This will help you feel more... open about your experiences
here."

She blew gently, wafting the smoke into Antoinette's face. Her eyes
quickly began to take on a distant, glassy look.

"Can you hear me Antoinette?" she asked quietly as she closed the
cover on the box.

"Yes," the girl replied somewhat dully.

"Tell me why you are here."

"To be a whore."

"Perfect. And I am going to help you become the most sought-after
whore in the world. Does that sound nice?"

"Yes."

"Bon. Then it is time to begin."


"Is everything alright Mistress?"

The Countess looked up, startled from her reverie. She was surprised
to find that she had one leg up on the seat of the limo, her panties
down around her knees as she played with herself. She has obviously
been at it for quite some time as her expensive cloth gloves were wet
with her own juices.

"What did you say?" she asked her daughter Anastasia belatedly.

"I asked if you were okay," the French teen repeated. "You have been
moaning and muttering to yourself for the past ten minutes."

She produced a gold cigarette case and snapped it open offering one
to her mother. The Parisian Madame took one and accepted a light as
well.

"I am fine," she said finally with an exhale. "I was simply thinking
about my first trip to Paris. I was just about your age then."

"And this is my first trip to Gotham City. What did you do in Paris?"

"I learned how to be a lady," the woman replied with a smile. "And
how to be a whore. It is funny; they are quite often the same thing."

The two femmes shared a laugh, but inside her mind the Countess was
already reliving the memories of her months under her Mistress'
tutelage. Her lessons had ranged from things that a girl would be
taught at the finest Swiss finishing schools, to things that could
only be learned from the most depraved whores on the planet.

And Antoinette had excelled at every lesson. From the French language
to French kissing, the girl was as natural and desirable a courtesan
as had ever lived. At least that is what the Count thought, though
she never would have guessed it at the time.

The dashing Count was often present at her training sessions,
appearing as if from nowhere and vanishing again just as suddenly. It
seemed to Antoinette that he especially enjoyed watching her be
humiliated. He never missed her slave training, whether it be a
bondage session, a whipping, or one of Elise's more degrading games.

But to Antoinette is interest seemed more detached amusement at her
plight than romantic feelings of lust. Even when she attended him in
his chamber at night he seemed distant and aloof. She was required to
take turns with the other `slaves' seeing to his needs.

Typically she would wait on her hands and knees in a corner, not
making a sound until he summoned her. Then she would crawl over to
him and fulfill his wishes. This usually entailed kissing his shoes
while he read the paper or watched television. When her groveling
made him sufficiently aroused he would have her suck his cock.

He kept his demeanor reserved, although sometimes when she glanced up
at him from her knees she thought that she could detect something in
his eyes. Call it passion or lust, but she knew that she had managed
to excite him.

Still, when he was finished he would simply ejaculate on her; her
face, her tits, sometimes into her hands so she could lick it off. He
would then give her a little pat on the cheek or head, like one would
do with a particularly well-liked pet, before dispatching her back to
her place in the corner.

She was certainly never given any indication that her actions pleased
him in any way. In fact the only evidence, besides the sometimes look
in his eyes, that he even knew that she existed was his cum
spattering over her when he had an orgasm.

So it was a shock when Elise told her that she would be accompanying
the Master to dinner outside the châteaux. She was carefully groomed
and dressed in an exquisite emerald satin gown and gloves with
matching necklace and earrings that had to be worth a fortune. The
Countess herself inspected her personally, declaring her to
be "perfect" before bundling her into the softest fur coat Antoinette
could ever imagine and sending her off in a limousine.

She had been instructed on what she was to do and informed that she
would be watched to see that she complied. It was obvious that she
has not been lied to, for as soon as she got into the back of the
luxuriously appointed automobile the dark screen that separated her
from the driver slid down several inches. The man who was spying on
her from the front passenger seat apparently wanted to remain
anonymous, but she knew who it was right away. Antoinette could tell
by looking at the crystal blue eyes, the steely gaze, that it was her
Master the Count.

She held his gaze for a moment and licked her lips deliberately
before turning her attention away. There was a bottle of champagne
chilling on the bar and she poured herself a glass. Leaning back in
her seat she let her mink fall open, displaying her dress. It
revealed a healthy amount of her cleavage. Her nipples were already
hard and she was clearly not wearing a bra.

Reaching into her dress she began to run her hands over those erect
nipples, teasing and pinching them. The smooth fabric of her dress
and gloves felt heavenly as they rubbed against her equally smooth
skin. She pulled one of her breasts out of the halter-style gown and
held it up so that she could run her tongue over it. After feeling up
her tits for a while she decided to up the ante. She sat up and hiked
up her dress. Her panties were black and sheer, completely see-
through.

A little moan escaped her lips when her gloved hand made contact with
the diaphanous silk of her undies. She proceeded to play with
herself, pulling the panties tight into her cunt while she stroked
her clit. A quick glance towards the front of the limo told her that
her admirer in the front was still watching intently. She continued
her little peep-show for the duration of the trip to Paris.

The driver let her know when they were a few moments away and she
took the time to straighten her gown and fix her makeup. Her legs
were a bit unsteady as she took the chauffeur's offered hand as she
stepped out of the limo. The Count was standing a few feet away,
waiting patiently. She could tell by the intense gleam in his eye and
the bulge in the front of his trousers that he was as excited as she
was.

"You look remarkable Antoinette," he complimented as he took her hand
and kissed it. "I am sure that I will be the envy of every man in
Paris this evening."

"You are too kind milord," she murmured, blushing prettily as he led
her into the restaurant.

"Monsieur Montblanc, how nice to see you again," the host greeted
warmly as they entered the finely decorated establishment. "We have
your customary table ready."

They were led up a grand spiral staircase and to a table in the
center of the elegant dining room, many eyes turning to admire them
as they passed.

"May I take your coat mademoiselle?" the maitre d asked deferentially.

"Merci," she replied coolly in perfect French, shrugging out of the
expensive mink.

The Count held her chair out for her and made sure that she was
seated comfortably before taking the chair opposite from her.

"Cigarette?" he offered, opening a gold cigarette case and holding it
out to her.

Antoinette took one of the slim, all-white cigarettes, the same ones
that the Countess smoked. She brought it to her lips as he held his
lighter out for her. She exhaled slowly, attempting to match the
elegance and sophistication of her worldly Mistress and not missing
by much.

The dinner was divine; seven courses of absolute heaven, each more
delectable than the last. The champagne was the finest in France and
her glass never seemed to be empty. The ambiance and décor of the
restaurant made her think that she was dining in a palace and the
clientele was obviously the crème de la crème of Paris society.

It all paled in comparison to the attention that the Count was
lavishing on young Antoinette. She had never felt so important and
adored in her entire life. Which is why what happened next came as
such as shock.

Antoinette was finishing her dessert when a woman stopped by their
table. She was dressed in an impeccably tailored white skirt-suit and
her perfectly coifed hair was just as snowy white.

"Alexander," she exclaimed. "What a pleasure it is to see you again.
Where have you been hiding?"

"Not hiding at all Madame Pomfret," he told her kindly, rising to
kiss her cheek. "Business at the châteaux has simply kept me occupied
as of late."

"Oh I can see what has kept you occupied Alexander," the woman
assured him with a long look at his comely companion. "She is
absolutely stunning. Where ever did you find her?"

"Antoinette is visiting us from America. Antoinette, say hello to
Madame Pomfret."

The brunette greeted the elegant older woman, politely but shyly
taking her offered hand. She was surprised when the woman kissed her
glove.

"Ummm, I can smell your pussy," the dame purred with pleasure. "You
have been touching yourself have you not?"

Antoinette turned red with shock and embarrassment. She wanted to
crawl under the table.

"I bet your panties are soaked," the woman continued slyly. "I simply
adore wet panties. I will give you ten thousand francs for them."

"I don't understand," she replied uncomfortably.

"I want to buy your sticky, smelly panties my dear," the woman said
quite loudly and clearly. "I can tell just by looking at you that
your under-things will be particularly pungent. Now, shall we say ten
thousand for them?"

"No!" Antoinette whispered, completely scandalized. "And please keep
your voice down."

"What for darling? Everybody here knows that you are a whore. Now why
don't you be a good little girl and let me get a whiff of what's
between your legs?"

The girl was horrified and did her best to ignore the stares that
were being cast in their direction. She just wanted the crazy old
woman to go away. But it was not to be.

"Please, why are you doing this to me?" she pleaded.

"Antoinette!" the Count roared, slamming his hand down on the table
and causing several pieces of silver to go flying. "Remember your
place! You are embarrassing me with your disobedience."

The girl was shocked by the sudden display of temper and started to
cry.

"Hush now darling," he said more gently as he came around the
table. "You must learn to follow my wishes without hesitation, do you
understand?"

He handed her his handkerchief and she wiped her tears away,
whimpering softly and nodding. His silk hankie smelled slightly odd,
like a woman's perfume.

"Excellent. Now stand up and take off your panties. I enjoy it when
people look at you and see how sexy you are. Show all of these people
that beautiful pussy of yours."

Hands and knees shaking, she rose from her chair. He smiled
encouragingly to her and she slowly pulled up her dress. She was
beginning to feel a little better, more in control, sexy even.

"Exquisite," Madame Pomfret breathed when she saw the ultra-sheer
panties. "I must have them."

Eyes still shining with tears, Antoinette reached down and began
sliding her undies off. She stopped when they were around her knees
and straightened back up. Leaning back against the table she spread
her legs so that her Master and his friend could admire her cunt.

The Count smiled appreciatively. The drugs on his handkerchief had
obviously loosened her up some. That in conjunction with all of the
champagne she had drunk should be enough to make the rest of the
evening go very smoothly. Madame Pomfret, who had a fetish for
panties, particularly ones that carried the scent of womanly arousal,
was nearly beside herself with desire.

She was a powerful woman and he liked to stay on her good side. He
had a feeling that after tonight he would be able to do no wrong in
her eyes.

"Come now Antoinette," he chided playfully. "We mustn't keep the good
Madame waiting all night."

The teen finished her sexy strip and handed her filmy undies to the
old woman. The elegant elder immediately brought them up to her face,
reveling in the aroma of Antoinette's arousal.

"Absolutely heavenly," she declared rapturously.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of cash.

"I believe the price was ten thousand francs," she said, thumbing
through the pile of bills.

"That won't be necessary Madame," the Count told her. "It is
Antoinette's pleasure to serve you."

"Nonsense Alexander," the woman insisted. "She is a whore and whores
must be paid."

"True," he allowed. "But on this occasion please accept her panties
as a gift. Her debut will be coming soon at our next soiree; perhaps
you would be so kind as to pass the word?"

"Oh yes Alexander I will certainly let my friends know about this
one," the elegant femme agreed, rubbing Antoinette's panties against
her cheek. "I can guarantee that she will be one of your most
anticipated debutantes yet."

"I would be forever grateful mon cheri," he replied.

"It will be my pleasure; I may even bid on her myself. But I have
taken up enough of your time already."

She stroked Antoinette's cheek gently. "Au revoir mon douce; until we
meet again."

The girl watched the strange woman stroll away, fingering her
underwear. She didn't even realize that she was still leaning against
the table fingering herself, the patrons of the crowded restaurant
watching appreciatively.

"It is time to go Antoinette," the Count whispered in her ear. "Come
and we will fetch your coat."

He took her arm and led her through the dining area and down the
staircase. A quiet murmuring marked their passage, guests discussing
the Count's new femme. Pierre's was far from a typical dining
establishment and the fine cuisine was not the only thing on the
menu. It was in fact a very upscale sex club that members paid a
hefty fee to attend. The waiters and waitresses doubled as
prostitutes and club members took turns providing entertainment for
each other.

Tonight the Count had brought a new girl, a young beauty, and the
club was all a-twitter with what he might do with her. One thing was
sure, Count Montblanc and his wife the Countess never failed to put
on a spectacular show. As soon as the pair exited the rest of the
patrons got up and hurried over to the viewing area. This consisted
of a large square of glass in the floor bordered by red velvet ropes.
The window, which was actually a one-way mirror, looked down into a
small salon below. To anyone sitting on one of the elegant velvet
sofas and looking up, it would simply appear to be a mirrored
ceiling. They would never suspect that they were being watched by a
restaurant full of people.

Antoinette was fairly beaming with excitement as the host helped her
back into her mink. Her awkward moment with the old woman had been
all but forgotten already as she looked forward to the ride back to
the châteaux with the Count. Her face was flushed with desire as she
wrapped herself into the fur. She still had the Count's handkerchief
and she sniffed at it constantly. Her giddiness seemed to grow by the
moment, a fact that she attributed to the astounding amount of
champagne she had drunk and not to the narcotics that she was
inhaling.

The Count was about to open the door for her when the manager of the
restaurant came into the lobby and stopped them.

"I beg your pardon monsieur, but I am afraid there is a problem."

"A problem Rafael?"

"Oui monsieur Montblanc," the tuxedoed man told him. "It seems that
your credit card was rejected."

"How embarrassing," the Count said, not sounding particularly
embarrasses at all. "I'm afraid that I don't have any cash with me
either."

"That is unfortunate monsieur," the manager replied sadly.

"Perhaps I can offer you some other sort of compensation to pay for
that extraordinary meal."

"What did you have in mind?"

"This is Antoinette," the Count said indicating the brunette at his
side. "She is soon to be one of the most sought-after courtesans in
the entire world."

"She is quite pretty," the manager agreed. "And I'm sure that she
will be well worth the cost of a meal. But there is also the matter
of gratuities for the staff. There is the matter of the maitre d,
your waiter, the busboy… and of course the chef."

"Antoinette will make sure that they are all quite satisfied with the
arrangement," the Count promised.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and brought out a small
item. Antoinette immediately recognized it as the jeweled snuff box
that the Countess used to mesmerize her when she hesitated in her
trainings. He began to lift the box towards her, but she stopped him
with a hand on his arm.

"That won't be necessary," she told him simply.

She approached the manager and placed her hand on his groin.

"It is payment you want," she purred, rubbing the front of his
pants. "And payment you shall receive."

She unzipped him and began stroking him gently. The softness of her
gloved hand quickly had him hard as a rock.

"Why don't we move this to someplace more private?" the Count
suggested.

The manager swallowed hard and nodded, taking the cue. He led the
damsel and her Master to a quiet room with velvet sofas and a
mirrored ceiling. The young lady had no idea that behind that mirror
a crowd of on-lookers waited eagerly for what was to happen.

The Count was eager as well. The girl's training had been underway
for weeks and he was interested to se how far she had come under his
wife's excellent tutelage. He took a seat nearby as she wasted no
time in taking the manager's cock in her mouth. He glanced at Marie
Antoinette's antique snuff box that discharged a mind-altering
hallucinogen, surprised that it had been unnecessary to dose her. He
would have thought that being turned out for the first time would
have caused the teen to balk but perhaps she had progressed even
further than he had guessed. Still he kept it handy in case she
became skittish later on.

Antoinette however wasn't feeling skittish in the least. She was
feeling, in a word… free. After weeks of teasing, tempting, and
torture at the hands of the Countess and her trainers, the teen was
finally getting a chance to spread her wings. It was if a switch had
been flipped inside her. She suddenly knew who she was. She was a
whore. And she was going to be the sexiest, sluttiest, most desirous
whore in the world.

The vixen never paused when three more men entered the room and
pulled down their pants. She had no problem handling the lot of them,
giving pleasure with her hands, her mouth, her pussy, and even her
ass. The men had been expecting an awkward young woman to have their
way with, but had instead found themselves being pleasured by a
consummate professional. Their not unpleasant surprise was equaled by
only the Count himself who felt that he was witnessing the blossoming
of a legend before his very eyes.

She glanced over at him, their eyes meeting, and she smiled. It was
a `cat that got the cream grin', delivered with the tall cook's
throbbing dick between her lips and it gave him chills. A sudden
discomfort in his trousers made him realize that his cock was rock
hard as well. This was unusual as he was typically in complete
control of his desires.

Somewhat flustered he rose from his seat and moved towards the orgy
in progress. As if sensing his need to be with her, the femme doubled
her efforts at pleasing her partners. Rafael, well used to lasting
hours with a woman, exploded in her hand as she jerked him expertly.
The young busboy followed suit quickly as did the waiter upon whose
lap she was bouncing.

This left only the cook and she paused for a moment, letting her
tongue linger on his balls before flicking it lightly over his glans
as her lips gripped the head of his cock tightly. He groaned before
adding his own load to the streams of sperm flying through the air.
The raven-haired tramp let the hot jizz spray over her lips and
cheeks.

The Count nearly came himself when he saw her sitting there as regal
as a young Cleopatra, even with cum dripping from her lips and semen
staining her gloves and gown.

"I want you to cum on me too darling," she said huskily. "But first
fuck me. My pussy is absolutely dripping wet for you."

She stood up and motioned her sated lovers away, making room for her
Master. He took her roughly in his arms, feeling her incredibly soft
body against his own much harder flesh. He barely got his dick into
her before coming to a shuddering climax and collapsing panting
against the girl.

Watching from above, the Countess could scarcely believe her eyes.
Her husband never lost control with women. He probably hadn't
ejaculated prematurely since he was fourteen years old. And the look
in his eye was one that she recognized immediately. She had seen it
many times before, but always when he looked at her. He was falling
in love with the girl, that much was obvious. Even when he pulled out
the snuff box and put her to sleep he did it with a certain
reluctance.

Her musings were interrupted when her fellow members erupted into
applause. They began swirling around her offering congratulations on
her precious new find. She nodded distractedly, a million thoughts
racing through her brain. At last she remembered to make the
announcement.

"Thank you all, you are to kind. Please remember that a week from
this evening young Antoinette will be making her debut at Le
Châteaux. She will be available only to the winning bidder at
the `Slave Auction', show bring you checkbooks."

She left to more applause and laughter, the crowd already buzzing
about how much the remarkable young American would fetch at auction.
The Countess ignored them and moved quickly to the door.

"Have the car brought around Elise," she ordered absentmindedly as
she considered her options.

The proper young aide nodded and went to do her Mistress' bidding.
She too, had noticed the Master's strange behavior and she was eager
to see how it would turn out. The American was receiving far too much
attention for her liking and would love to see the girl put in her
place. Little did she know how wrong she was to be.


That evening Antoinette was awoken in the middle of the night by
somebody gently shaking her. She opened her eyes to find the Countess
herself standing over her.

"Get up love," she ordered softly. "I want you to come with me."

The young lady sprang from the bed, anxious that something was wrong.
The blonde Frenchwoman wrapped her in a satin robe and wordlessly led
her from the room.

"Quietly," she whispered cautiously as they made their way down the
darkened hall. "I don't want the whole châteaux to know about this."

Antoinette followed her along the twisting corridors, her stomach
tied in equally twisted knots. They eventually arrived outside the
door of the Count's private chambers and the Countess shooed her
inside. She was fearful that she had displeased the Count and was to
be punished.

"Welcome Antoinette," the Count greeted warmly from his customary
armchair. "I'm sorry that we woke you."

Antoinette curtsied as she had been trained and fell to her knees by
his side.

"Shall I pleasure you Milord?" she inquired respectfully.

"You have given me enough pleasure today my dear," he replied helping
her to her feet. "It is your turn to be pleased."

He led her over to his large canopy bed and pushed her back onto the
mattress. Unbelting her robe, he began to run his hands over her
body. The Count was a magnificent lover and she was becoming quickly
aroused. But still he did not take her, instead burying his tongue in
her pussy and licking her sensuously.

He made love to her endlessly, pleasuring her with his hands, his
mouth, and finally with his cock. When he finished hours later they
lay side by side, limbs entangled in the sweat-soaked satin sheets.
Antoinette was positively aglow with passion as she snuggled up to
his chest. She could still feel his warmth inside her, where he had
spilled his seed. He had never done that before, usually preferring
to cum on her face, tits, or ass.

It had been a truly momentous evening culminating in a memorable
climax. But what did it all mean? She fell asleep with the question
still unanswered.


The Countess opened her eyes once more and saw that her daughter was
staring at her once again. Her cigarette had gone out and her gloves
were a sticky mess. It had been a long time since she thought of her
first months in Paris and she was awakening feelings that she thought
were long passed.

"You were thinking about my father no?" Anastasia remarked casually.

"What makes you say that?" her mother returned in surprise.

"You were muttering something about the Count," the teen noted
evenly. "He was my father, was he not?"

"How long have you known that?"

"Since I was a little girl. He used to visit me at the abbey I
remember."

Anastasia had been raised at a nunnery several miles away from the
châteaux. The Count correctly felt that the mansion was no place for
a child to be raised, especially not his child. It had been a shock
to Antoinette when she had found out that she was pregnant. She
thought that the Countess would be furious. But that had not been the
case at all. Far from it as a matter of fact.

The Countess had been thrilled to death. She had never been able to
give the Count a child herself and had been searching for just the
right woman to be their surrogate. They had chosen Antoinette as that
woman,

And of course once they knew that their plan was to bare fruit she
became a revered member of the household. No more submission was to
be required of her, her training now consisted of becoming the new
Madame of the house. The Countess saw to that training personally and
she found out why just a few days before Anastasia was born.

The Countess died at the age of fifty-one of a rare disease. It was
then that the Count had informed her that she had been chosen as her
hand-picked successor. There was much jealousy at the announcement of
course and the baby was moved from the house soon after her birth for
the child's own safety as much as anything else. It wasn't until the
Count himself passed three years earlier that the Countess had sent
for Anastasia, "adopting" the fourteen year-old and raising her to be
a future Madame herself.

Now it seemed that the ruse of adoption had been a waste of time. The
child had seen through the entire charade. Perhaps she had
underestimated her daughter; after all they had the same blood, she
should have expected her to be as bright as she was proving to be.

"The Count was your father," she confirmed gently. "And he loved you
very much. Everything we did was done to protect you."

"I understand completely mere," the girl told her. "But if we are to
survive the coming weeks we will need to be totally honest with each
other."

"And we will be mon cheri," the Countess told her smiling. "I will
include you in all of my future plans."

She looked out the window and saw that they had arrived at the Dream
Lady's brothel.

"And it all begins now."