Fruit of Submission by Robin Ballantyne

Author:Robin Ballantyne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: slave, bondage, submission, BDSM, slave, mistress, pain, submission, latex, submissive, evil, punishment, imprisonment, abuse, chains, extreme, BDSM, master, Dominatrix, caged, discipline, rope, rubber, slavegirl, sadistic, sub, male domination, captive ponygirl, pony, trained, bound, gagged, S&M, S and M Kink, sex, sexy, sexual, adult, naughty
ISBN: 9781908252876
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2012-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

It was a long day, and by the time it was over, Cynthia was hot and thirsty and hungry and very, very sore. Antoine had seemed to be everywhere, him and his horrible cane. Not content with giving her just one thrashing, he had come back to her twice, and each time he had found fault with her, and each time she had raised her dress for another fifty stinging cuts, so that now, when all she wanted was to sit down and never move again, sitting down was the last thing she could contemplate.

She had eaten a light supper with Amelie, Carla, Li and Francine. They had spoken little and remained standing. Now she lay face down on her bed, her dirty dress hanging, together with Amelie’s on the back of the door. The shutters on their room were open, letting in a soft evening breeze which played coolly over her flayed, smarting bottom.

On the next bed, Amelie shifted and groaned. ‘Ooooh,’ she said. ‘What is it you English say?’ She frowned with concentration, and then pronounced carefully: ‘Bloody Hell!’

Cynthia laughed. ‘Very good,’ she said. ‘Nice accent.’

‘Thanks. Probably not as good as your French, though.’ Amelie reached round gingerly and patted herself. She winced. ‘Yup, still there.’ She patted a little more, then brought her arms round in front of her, raised her head form the bed, and cradled her chin. ‘I wouldn’t mind getting whipped,’ she said, and then giggled. ‘I mean, obviously I wouldn’t mind it, otherwise why would I be here, but it’s not the only reason I’m here, if you know what I’m saying.’ She looked sideways at Cynthia and raised her eyebrows. ‘Were you spying when Li got hers?’

Cynthia nodded.

‘Well then. Straight up the arse and no messing about. That’s what I like.’

Cynthia sighed. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Apart from José on my first day here, none of the men have laid a finger on me.’

‘Apart from José? Wow!’ Amelie rolled onto her side and looked at Cynthia with respect in her eyes. ‘Le Mestré had you on your first day? That’s some compliment!’ She rolled off her bed and sat down carefully next to Cynthia. ‘Is that why you’re here? Because of José?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well come on then!’ Amelie patted Cynthia’s hand. ‘Tell!’

Cynthia told. She began, a little hesitantly, with her anodyne relationship with Yves, but as she described her night at L’histoire d’O she warmed to her task. The momentum of her story carried her through to her suspicions about her parents, and then to her journey across the full length of France on the track of her José.

At this, Amelie raised her eyebrows until they almost disappeared into her fringe. ‘Your José?’ she asked.

Cynthia subsided a little. ‘Well, that’s what it felt like then,’ she said. Even to her own ears she sounded a bit defensive.

‘Mmm.’ Amelie was silent for a moment. Then she asked: ‘What does it feel like now?’

Cynthia sighed. ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘Well, well.’ Amelie’s hand stroked Cynthia’s cheek absently.

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