Chapter 20 The two submissive at the castle (continued)

I left Lalielou on her easel and fell into a deep, restorative sleep.

 The poor thing hadn't finished suffering. Shortly after, the Marquis arrived and sat down in the small living room. The Count, who was following him, made a detour and came to the cage where I was, and watched me sleep.

 - " "

 he whispered between I'll have you, female dog, you'll be mine, whether the Marquis likes it or not, his teeth, then turning around, settled himself in one of the free armchairs.

 - Walter, pour us a cognac!

 Walter walked over to a small piece of furniture finely inlaid with intricate flowers in shimmering colors. The rare woods were encrusted with semi-precious stones which, thanks to the reflections of the lights, made it sparkle.

 He took out two crystal glasses and a plump flask.

 He placed them on a tray and presented them to the two men.

 They were preparing themselves, comfortably seated, as if to attend a show in a small group.

 - Walter you can start!

 - Good sir.

 He walked over to Lalielou, removed the spreader bar, and using the pulley, lifted her off the easel. She moaned as her arms were stretched above her head, bearing all her weight.

 Her shoulders ached from being in the air for too long. .

 He set her down next to the easel where she collapsed, unable to stand. Her sex felt swollen, as if her bones had spread apart, opening her up even more.

 Walter came back to her and roughly forced her to her feet. She was swaying, swaying, only able to stay upright by a superhuman effort of will. She refused to look in the direction of the men, kept her head stubbornly down, and gritted her teeth on the ball gag.

 He took her to a post and tied her hands again, still in the handcuffs, to a huge piton high above her head. He stood on tiptoe to reach it. Then he took a rope, pressed Lalielou's body against the wood and tied her to it at waist level, squeezing her tighter than was reasonable. She had trouble breathing, her breasts crushed against the wood were causing her pain, but she knew, she felt that this was only the least of the torments she was going to suffer.

 Walter returned to the shelves and took a handful of thin, dry canes and brought them to the Marquis, who took them. The Marquis divided the canes in two and gave one to the Count, smiling.

 - Until there is not one left, Count, it is up to you to make the pleasure last! the Marquis told him. Walter, tie his feet too and then I will ask you to stay here.

 Having done this, Walter stepped back to give them space and sat down in an armchair himself and waited for the rest.

 The Count needed no further explanation. He understood what that meant: the female dog wouldn't be going into heat anytime soon!

 They slowly approached Lalielou, showing her the sticks with an almost animal look. She shuddered; she knew what that meant; she was going to suffer for a long time. To do this, they had to not hit too hard so as not to break the sticks too soon, so that their pleasure would last, and her unhappiness too.

 She closed her eyes, hoping to find the strength and courage to endure it all. She was beginning to wonder if her Master would appreciate finding her damaged as she suspected she would be after this beating.

 The Marquis began the first step of an infernal dance. He took a cane and without warning brought it down on Lalielou's buttocks. The blow was too hard, and the cane snapped after slashing Lalielou.

 She tensed, surprised by the searing pain and the violence of the blow. The Count took over, but seeing the fragility of canes, he struck less hard.

 He made the pleasure last longer, hard enough for Lalielou to tense up under each blow, but light enough for the stick to last, last, as long as possible and it lasted for several minutes.

 Lalielou's back was already well striped when the Count's cane finally broke, leaving room for the Marquis.

 He had learned his lesson and this time he was gentler with his blows but he repeated them at an incredible speed.

 Lalielou received no respite as she endured this volley of blows while holding her breath for the entire time the Marquis managed to keep the stick going. Her back burned terribly. Tied up as she was, she couldn't escape any of the blows, which all fell solely on her back and buttocks.

 The Marquis's cane finally broke, allowing her to breathe. She cried silently, her gag making it difficult for her to scream. The men could only hear her moaning, but they didn't care.

 The punishment lasted for several minutes, it seemed to her that it lasted for hours.

 In turn, one after the other, without pity and without respite, they came and poured out their excess of perversity upon her.

 Lalielou's back was nothing but a burning pain, her buttocks were burning with an intense fire.

 She was sure she wouldn't be able to sit for long. She could feel her blood mixing with her sweat. Her sex, between her tightly clenched legs, was liquefying, she could feel her woman's juices running down her thighs.

 She no longer had the strength to even moan, or to try to obtain any respite or leniency from her torturers. They never looked at her tear-filled eyes.

 They were only focusing on her back and buttocks. This alone interested and excited them. They themselves were sweating from the efforts they made while working hard on the

 Poor Lalielou. She couldn't take it anymore, didn't move anymore, received each blow like so many tongues of fire hitting her back, already bruised with hundreds of welts and which, in places, bled where the sticks broke.

 Then suddenly, with a final burst of force under a final volley, the saving black veil freed her from her martyrdom.

 She collapsed, held only by her bonds. The Marquis asked Walter to untie her and put her in the cage.

 - Don't forget to tie their hands tightly!

 The two men went down without a glance at poor Lalielou, a disjointed puppet in Walter's arms.

 He put her in the cage, tied her hands and did the same with me. I opened one eye and watched him do it without understanding what was happening, and I immediately fell back into a deep sleep, devoid of dreams.

 I don't know how long this bad sleep lasted.

 Suddenly I felt myself being lifted and thrown over a shoulder, my wrists still bound, and now my ankles too. I could hear whispers, but I couldn't fully wake up. I tried to shake my head, to clear my thoughts. But nothing worked.

 I was tossing miserably on the back of the man who was carrying me. I saw that another man had grabbed Lalielou and was carrying her in the same way. My arms were swinging and as they silently descended the spiral stairs, they hit a wall. I barely moaned. I was as if I were drugged, my brain refused to function. I wanted to scream, but I didn't feel the strength, not even to raise my head to see who was carrying Lalielou and following my carrier.

 The two men stopped at the last step before cautiously crossing the great hall. They whispered to each other, speaking little. I couldn't understand what they were saying. I was in a thick fog, and the sounds reached me muffled. I felt like I was in cotton wool.

 They crept in, silently crossing the room that led to the entrance. They went out and found themselves on the steps. The brisk air hit me and woke me up a little. I started to move, trying to get up from over the shoulder of the man who was carrying me. I didn't have time to finish my movement before he threw me into the back of a 4X4 that was parked at the foot of the steps. I landed hard on the ground between the two benches.

 The cold of the night had woken me up a little. I raised my head to look and try to understand what was happening.

 All I could see was the second man who, in turn, threw Lalielou completely inert next to me.

 The door closed gently behind us. Then the men piled into the vehicle in turn.

 The SUV leaped onto the driveway, sending up a shower of gravel behind it. With a hellish noise, they headed in the opposite direction toward the large gate I had driven through three days earlier. It was wide open, as I felt no sign of slowing down.

 They immediately set off on the path that led to the castle road. They didn't stay there long.

 They turned so quickly that, on the bend, Lalielou rolled off the bench and fell on top of me. I found myself trapped under her. The car was going as fast as it was allowed.

 The power of the vehicle made it speed through the woods, on barely passable roads.

 We were being tossed around. I managed, however, to sit up and even to stand up. I could only see tree trunks with twisted shapes made grotesque by the winter denudation. They were passing quickly in the beam of the powerful headlights.

 I could only see the necks of the two men, silent, sitting in the front seats. I didn't recognize any of them. Their silhouettes were unfamiliar to me.

 So what was this new game? A new whim of the Marquis's? Was he having us kidnapped to increase our anxiety, to make us give in faster? Who were these two men?

 Where were they taking us? Questions swirled around in my head, jostling each other without allowing me to find the slightest valid answer. My head was upside down, my ideas without any sense.

 My brain was slowly getting back to normal. I didn't know where we were, or where we were going at that speed.

 We were risking an accident, driving so fast in the middle of the night on that road. But apparently, the two strangers knew the route because at no point did they slow down. I reassured myself by telling myself that at least they knew where we were going.

 We drove like this for quite a while. I could already see daybreak. How long had we been driving? I had no idea. I was disoriented, not grasping the purpose of this incredible nighttime abduction.

 I was lost in my dark thoughts, when, raising my head, in front of us, appeared an immense wall. A monumental door opened onto a wood. I saw nothing other than this high wall and this door in the middle of the woods which surrounded another wood on both sides. I did not understand the use of such a barrier in the middle of nowhere.

 Dawn was coming.

 The path continued, winding and stony. I only saw it at the last moment, appearing around a final bend. Another wrought iron gate slowly opened as the 4x4 approached. The vehicle passed it without slowing down, passed at the last minute between its two barely open gates and entered a wide gravel driveway.

 I turned to look behind us, searching for some savior.

 That's when the screw comes in!

 A rider, lying on the neck of his mount, was coming at full gallop. But the gates were already closing in front of him.

 He made the horse rear up, and it pawed the ground, its nostrils exhaling clouds of vapor with each breath. I thought I recognized the silhouette of the Marquis in this rider. But wasn't it my reason, clouded by some drug, that made me see what I wanted?

 Yet the rider seemed real to me. He was visibly angry. He turned his horse around, making it go back and forth in front of the gate that blocked his access to the driveway. The driver sneered at the sight of him in his rearview mirror:

 - You're too late, Mr. Marquis! They're with the Master now!

 Hearing this, I turned around and looked at him in amazement! So it was a real kidnapping, it wasn't a game, the Marquis didn't know about it, I hadn't dreamed it, it was definitely him. I looked behind but I couldn't see the wall or the gates anymore, hidden by the trees.

 But I was certain now that it was him, that he was there preventing , behind the gates that her from coming to our rescue.

 But who were these men, really? I had never seen them at the castle? Who was this Master who had ordered and planned our kidnapping? I had the unpleasant feeling that I was no longer the master of my destiny, that my life depended on an individual I didn't know.

 My head was spinning, I didn't even have the courage to scream, it would have been pointless anyway. I was devastated. What would become of us? Oh My Master, will I ever see you again?

 My heart sank so hard I thought it would stop. A knife pierced me when I imagined you, hearing the news of my kidnapping, because I had indeed been kidnapped, kidnapped from the Marquis's house.

 I was there in my fears, drowned in my pain when the car stopped in front of an immense construction. Not a castle, no, but a magnificent residence of great proportions, built in a strict rectangle but of beautiful craftsmanship.

 At the precise moment the car stopped, men, obviously waiting for our arrival, appeared and rushed towards us. One opened the door and tried to grab me. It was only then, finally freeing myself from all the accumulated tension, that I began to scream as loud as I could.

 I was screaming, yelling, crying, gesticulating all at once. Lalielou, woke up. Seeing me panicked, not knowing how she had arrived in a car, but understanding my distress very well, she too began to shout and gesticulate, preventing the men from seizing her.

 The cramped space in the vehicle made it difficult for them, and our erratic movements prevented them from catching us. They growled, trying to grab our hands, our legs. One of the men came up to me to grab my feet. I swung them at him as hard as I could, and they hit him in the face.

 He shouted in turn, putting his hands to his nose which had started to bleed immediately.

 - Ah, the bitch, she must have broken my nose. I wonder what the Master can possibly find in his untrained daughters. This one is a real fury too.

 - SILENCE! thundered a man who was coming out of the house at the same moment.

 This voice....this tone,... no, let it not be..... The Count arrived, fulminating.

 We were both so surprised that we stopped at the same time.

 Stunned to realize that he was our kidnapper. A cold sweat rolled down my back. I saw the Count's eyes where anger gave way to joy. He approached the car, grabbed me by the restraints on my wrists and took a knife out of his pocket.

 I instinctively backed away, not wanting to get out of the car. This man scared me terribly.

 He laughed at my gesture, bent down and cut the ropes that bound my ankles. He took me out and placed me on the ground, standing in front of him. My bare feet on the gravel made me They hurt, but I was so scared, so helpless, that I didn't notice.

 I was shivering from the cold as much as from the panic I felt creeping up inside me. I lifted my head and stared into his eyes. I wouldn't surrender like that. I gritted my teeth to keep them from chattering, forcing myself not to lower my head, trying to keep some of my pride.

 He looked at me for a moment, smiled.

 I heard that his men had seized Lalielou, one of them passed by me carrying her in his arms, , he has it defeated, too.

 - Take her to the saffron room and tell Elvira to take care of her, give her food, drink and a sleeping pill.

 - Yes Master, right away.

 Then he lifted me in his arms and carried me towards the house...

 I tried to struggle, to scratch him, but the more I gesticulated, the tighter his grip tightened around me.

 He walked briskly towards the house, the door of which was wide open. Lalielou was already being carried upstairs and we could only give each other a scared look before she disappeared at the top of the stairs.

 I found myself temporarily alone with the Count. My brain was working a thousand miles an hour. I wondered if it was really the Marquis I had seen behind the gate earlier. When I stopped at this thought, I had hope: Hope that the Marquis would come back for us, hope of a quick deliverance. But when I doubted what I had seen, I plunged into the darkest thoughts. I wondered what would happen to us, what this sad sire had in store for us.

 He didn't put me down, even though we were inside. He waited for one of his

 servants to lock the door. He finally put me down and as soon as I was on the ground, despite my reason telling me that it was useless, I rushed to the door, trying to open it with all the energy of despair. I shook it with all my might, banged on it, pulled the handle violently, hoping that perhaps it would give. Nothing worked, it was much too heavy and thick for me to even scratch it. The Count laughed at seeing me gesticulating like that, helpless. I turned towards him, glaring at him.

 "What do you want from me anyway?" I yelled at him, almost hysterically. I felt the panic rising, inexorable, devastating, I felt it was going to overwhelm me. I wanted to control it, keep it away from my poor, spinning head. He laughed again and again!

 - I want you! And I have you! .

 - No! You don't have me, Monsieur le Marquis will come and he will take me back and you will pay dearly for your betrayal. I am sure of it!

 - So why are you screaming, why are you crying like that? If you're so sure?

 He was right, I was crying and I hadn't noticed it, big tears were rolling down my cheeks. I wasn't sure the Marquis would come to rescue us, I had only caused him worry. Would he think I was worth saving?

 My heart was suffering from an illness I didn't know. I felt lost, abandoned. I threw myself at the Count's knees, hoping for some kind of pity:

 - Please, before it is too late, bring us back to Monsieur le Marquis, do not harm us, he will be magnanimous and forget all this story, I beg you, Monsieur.

 My hands wrung with emotion, I looked up at him imploringly. He stared at me, and without warning, without a word, he slapped me hard. I fell on my side from the impact.

 My head was spinning, I saw a black veil, I tasted blood in my mouth.

 I tried to get up, he gave me another slap that took my breath away. I remained lying there at full length.

 I didn't dare get up, or even look at him. I cried profusely, naked, bruised on the cold cobblestones of this house, I felt lost.

 He called one of the servants who were waiting there. They both lifted me up by one arm and dragged me to the back of the room. We went through a door, crossed another room and finally they stopped.

 They let me fall where I was, a disjointed puppet. I tried once more to sit up, which I almost managed.

 The Count turned around. I saw nothing else, heard nothing else but his hand falling on me once more.

 This time I received the veil as a deliverance, collapsed, inert.

 The Count left me there and left the room with his servant at his heels.

 He went back through all the rooms, climbed the stairs 4 by 4 and entered the room where Lalielou was.

 At his entrance, even the maid jumped. Lalielou turned and saw him in the doorway. She curled up on the bed where she was sitting, expecting the worst. Elvira moved, giving him more than enough room to pass in front of her.

 When he approached, worried, she lowered her head and crossed her hands on her apron.

 - How is she? he asked her without looking at her, staring at Lalielou without blinking. Did you do what I asked you to?

 - Yes sir, I gave her some ointments, she didn't want to eat or drink.

 Lalielou raised her head slightly as if she wanted to challenge him. She fixed her eyes on the Count's and did not lower her gaze. He was looking at her too. It was as if they were in a silent, yet intense, battle. Who would give up first, who would look down first? Lalielou was tired, she was hungry, her stomach was twisting and hurting. She had heard what the Count had said. She had to keep her composure. She had to keep her mind clear; the rest of the events depended on it.

 So she resolved to lower her eyes, not to provoke him unnecessarily, to make amends, to make him believe that she was surrendering. She lowered her eyes, biting her lip and clenching her fists.

 He laughs .

 - are you finally surrendering, little female dog?

 - Yes sir, I am at your mercy.

 - You understand that your Marquis can do nothing for you! Here you are in my home!

 - Yes sir, I know, I am at your mercy, do what you want with me.

 - I'm counting on it, little female, I'm counting on it! I have to take care of the other female dog first, mark her on my graph and I'll do the same with you afterwards, rest well, the red-hot irons are a hard test.

 Lalielou couldn't help but look up at him in horror; No, he wasn't going to brand Marie in irons and then do the same to her! He had no right to do that. What would their Masters say to seeing them branded for life with the mark of someone other than themselves?

 She really had to escape. She bowed her head, said nothing, remained calm and submissive, at least on the surface.

 - Well, I prefer that attitude. Elvire; you don't take your eyes off her, she must be resting!

 - Good sir, yes sir

 - when I'm done with the other one I'll send for that one!

 Before she could answer, turning on her heel without a glance or a word to Lalielou, he was out of the room. Both women breathed a sigh of relief at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled. But Lalielou was thinking fast. She wondered how she could possibly get out of here and ask for help despite the wind, the cold, and the threatening snow!

 What would happen to Mary if the Count found out before she could bring help? Wouldn't he take revenge on Mary?

 She hesitated to do it, but not doing it was just as dangerous. So she decided to act. She had a plan, worth what it was worth, but that was all she had ,for the moment, and time was running out.

 So, all languid, she turned to Elvira and, looking at her almost timidly, she asked her as gently as she was allowed, despite the anguish that made her voice tremble:

 - Please, madam, I'll eat something now. I mustn't upset the Count. I must obey him and rest, but I'm so hungry that I won't be able to do it, that's for sure.

 The maid looked at her, wondering what trick this woman could possibly play on her. But seeing her shy and humble, Lali smiling at her gently, she didn't seem right? Offensive? All things considered. .

 - Well, I'll leave you here. I'll go get the tray you refused earlier. I don't know what the Master will think, but he said you should rest and get your strength back.

 So, wait for me there, I'll be back!

 She went out in turn. Lalielou heard the key turn in the lock. She rushed out of bed, went to the large wardrobes in the room, opened all the doors in search of something to wear and shoes.

 The first one she opened contained only sheets, pillows and other blankets. Disappointed, she opened the second one and there were men's clothes.

 Too bad, she didn't choose anything, took what came and dressed as she could. She put on several pairs of pants and sweaters one on top of the other. There was no jacket, no coat, no shoes.

 This could cause him problems. She absolutely had to find something to wear.

 There was no other wardrobe in the room. She was in despair. Fear was growing on her, but she had to stay calm and clear-headed. She walked towards the door, listening for the slightest noise. She pressed her ear to the door. She would have liked to have a club, but obviously there was nothing like that in this room. She walked around the room again. Her gaze stopped on a chair that seemed heavy enough.

 She left her place by the door, picked up the chair, tried several different grips, and lifted it above her head. She seemed Her heart satisfied and returned to her post behind the door at the precise moment she heard footsteps on the stairs. began to pound in her chest. She grabbed the chair with both hands, lifted it, and, stepping back a little, waited.

 The key turned in the lock. The door slowly opened, and, not thinking about what she was doing, brought it down with all its force on poor Elvira. She collapsed on the ground without having the time to let out the slightest cry. The tray fell, taking everything on it with it in a noise that seemed infernal to Lalielou.

 She didn't wait. She pulled Elvira to the bed and, with great difficulty, lifted her onto the bed. 

 She sat with her back to the door. She took care to pick up the key and slip it into the door, which she carefully closed when she left the room.

 She looked right and left, wondering which way to go. She went down the stairs silently. She happened to find the hall. There, neatly lined up, were shiny boots and shoes. Elvira must have cleaned and polished them conscientiously.

 Lalielou slipped her bare feet into boots that were much too big for her. But at least they were fur-lined; they would keep her warm.

 She walked towards the door but couldn't open it. She resigned herself, turned around and went back through the house. She looked for the pantry where she was sure to find another door and with a bit of luck it would be open.

 She opened one at random, poked her head in. There was no one in sight, the house seemed empty. There was no noise.

 She ventured forward. She opened the first door, which led to a long corridor leading to several rooms. She didn't go into it, and closed the door. She took the next one and, victory, it was the right one. She entered quietly; it was the pantry, it was empty. Lalielou slowly closed the door behind her. It was a fairly large and well-furnished room.

 There was a basket of fruit on the long central table. Lalielou took two or three apples and slipped them into the pockets of their trousers. She went to the glass door that led outside and wondered where she could possibly look. She opened it cautiously and found herself outside. She was at the back of the house.

 There was a huge park in front of her. A lawn sloped gently down to the forest she could see further away. Would she have time to reach it? Was the forest enclosed by the high walls she could see on her left? How could she get out of this park?

 She decided to stop asking questions and move forward. She then launched into a mad dash, as if her life depended on it. She ran and ran, with only the forest in her sights, she had to reach it at all costs, whatever the cost!

 She was running, Lalielou, she was running in her boots that were too big, in her trousers that bothered her, but she was running. The forest was getting closer. The woods, though bare, would be her allies, she knew it, felt it, wished for it with her whole body, with her whole being. She didn't stop, didn't turn around. She ran, ran until she was out of breath. Her chest burned with an intense fire, her heart, like a powerful drum, told her it could take no more, that she would have to slow down, and then, finally, the first trees were there.

 .

 She rushed towards them, between them. She passed the first ones without stopping running. She zigzagged between the bare trunks. Her boots got caught in the brambles and dry ferns, but she didn't slow down. She had to get as far away as possible, go deep into the woods and disappear there.

 After a while of this mad rush she stopped, turned around and almost cried out with relief. She could no longer see the Count's house. She leaned against a tree trunk, trying to catch her breath. She suddenly bent over and vomited bitter, acidic bile. She had made so much effort of her body that it was rebelling.

 She stayed there for a long time, waiting for the spasms to subside. She took an apple and bit into it. The juice did her a world of good as it flowed down her parched throat. She savored the forbidden fruit with pleasure, like an elixir. She sat down for a moment to think about what would happen next. She wondered if they had already noticed her escape in the house, what would happen then. She was anguished at the thought that Marie was still a prisoner, there alone now! But she had to do what she had started to do, go all the way, find reinforcements, help.

 At the manor, no one worried about her on the contrary, since the Count had demanded that she He was far too busy with me, Marie . rested .

 He had come back into the room where I was still unconscious. He made me stand up, gave me a few slaps to bring me back to myself. I emerged from an inert fog to open my eyes to the Count, standing in front of me. I wanted to step back, I screamed, protecting my head with my arms.

 He held me down hard and shook me. He asked the servant who was there to help him carry me to the pillory. I then saw where I was.

 Far from the elegance of the dungeon of the sumptuous castle of the Marquis, this one was more like a torture chamber. There were, in indescribable disorder, hoists, trestles, a table with hooks, strange chairs that were chairs only in name. Pulleys that hung menacingly here and there.

 The shelves were swamped with various whips, canes, riding crops, ropes, and dildos of all sizes and shapes, some of them monstrous. All these objects

 The miscellaneous objects gave the room an unhealthy atmosphere. In one corner, a brazier burned with long handles sticking out, which a man turned over at regular intervals.

 - are the irons ready?

 - No Master, not yet.

 - perfect we'll have fun while we wait.

 He lifted me up and, with the help of his servant, led me towards a pillory identical to the engravings that one sees in the history books of the Middle Ages. Forcing me to lean forward, they placed my head and hands on the pillory and closed it over my neck and wrists. My body horizontal, bent from the hips, my buttocks were stretched and offered.

 The Count approached me, ran his hand over my back, went down my sides, and squeezed my waist with his hands.

 He leaned down a little and cupped my sagging breasts, stretching them as much as he could by the nipples. I moaned but could do nothing to escape the pain.

 He straightened up a little, caressed my buttocks, felt them roughly. I tried to move by rotating my pelvis and bending my legs.

 - I see that, wait a minute female dog!

 I heard the sound of chains and pulleys, but I saw nothing. I felt my legs being forcefully spread and bracelets being attached. A click and I couldn't bring my feet together any further. The Count came and stood in front of me, and I immediately realized that the collar was putting my mouth at the level of his penis.

 - you will be whipped on your female dog's buttocks while you honor me with your mouth, for I am your Master now and soon you will bear my mark on your breast.

 Try to live up to my desires.

 He undressed as he told me this and brought his penis close to my mouth. I didn't want to open it, refusing to relive the ordeal he had inflicted on me at the Marquis's. A great fear made my stomach twist, I cried.

 He pinched my nostrils. I held on, but at one point, my body demanding its due oxygen, I opened my mouth in a survival reflex.

 He penetrated me at the same time as the first stroke of the whip fell on my buttocks. I was so surprised that I propelled myself forward, pushing the Count's penis even further into my mouth, up to my throat. The man who whipped me was methodical. He was hitting one buttock after the other, in a slow and powerful rhythm. I felt my bottom heating up and my sex flowing. I was so wet, that my woman juice was running down my thighs, I could feel it.

 My mouth trapped by the Count's cock, I could only moan at the regular strokes of the whip. The Count had timed his thrusts to match my involuntary jerks, and he thrust into my mouth as I moved forward as little as I could. My eyes were crying on their own, leaving trails of tears on my face, swollen from the slaps.

 I couldn't help but feel pleasure as the thrusts and the cock ripped into my mouth. I loved the feeling, almost unbearable, when the cock completely filled my mouth.

 The combination of the whip and fellatio brought me to the edge of pleasure. I moaned, but my moans of pain and anger became moans of pleasure, languid, deep. The Count perceived that I was coming to him, that I was no longer shrinking under the blows, but going to meet him. I opened my mouth as wide as I could to receive him, I sucked him, sucked him in forcefully as if to extract his seed. I let the pleasure take its place in my body and in my head, invade me like a hot wave, a wave that imposed its rhythm on me.

 I let myself be overwhelmed little by little, I no longer reflected, no longer thought, I just wanted to let myself go and accept this pleasure. The Count had felt the change and was amused by it. But he wanted something else.

 - I don't want you to enjoy yourself, female. If you do, it won't work out for you at all! Stop! he ordered the one who was whipping me. We'll have to move on, she likes it too much, I don't like it at all.

 They took me out of the shackles and imprisoned my hands in leather restraints. I moaned in frustration. I wanted them to continue. They hooked my restraints onto a chain. They raised the pulley so high that my whole body tensed. I could barely stand on my feet. The Count put a mask over my eyes and I found myself in complete darkness. I felt goosebumps rise. I was starting to get scared again.

 They each grabbed a whip. They cracked them right next to me. I had been whipped before, but this man really scared me. I didn't understand him, I couldn't figure out his personality.

 I didn't have to be afraid for long, the beatings began. And I screamed, I didn't see where the next one would come from, I wriggled, turning around, throwing my legs here and there. I was only making . their task easier, offering my stomach, or my breasts, my buttocks, my back, or my thighs.

 As they turned around, seeing nothing from where they stood, hitting one after the other, my whole body was soon burning, I cried, I screamed, I begged them to stop.

 But, tirelessly, even methodically, they played the parts I offered them with gusto.

 I no longer knew where I was. I heard the whistling of the whips and immediately after the bite of the strap on me.

 I no longer knew if I loved or if I suffered, I wanted them to stop and at the same time I didn't want them to! My head was spinning, the darkness added to this state of combined anguish and pleasure, I felt that little by little, I was losing my footing.

 I suffered, I cried, I screamed, but the straps always came back to me, as if they were making love to me, wrapping themselves around me, squeezing me in their burning embrace.

 I was sweating, my body glistened under the lights. I felt the beads of sweat rolling down my bruised and exposed body. I felt like I was letting go, that I was slipping into a strange, unknown and captivating world.

 I was no longer me, just a body, just a crowd of diverse sensations and perceptions and I didn't want it to end. I waited for each next blow, hoping for release in abandonment. Then at one point, nothing, no hiss, no burn, no strap, no whip to finally give me the saving pain, the one that would make me take off.

 I felt my wrists being untied. I was laid down on the table I had seen when I arrived. The wood seemed icy cold under my overheated skin. My feet and hands were tied tightly. They wound many turns of rope around me. I was starting to feel unable to breathe. My head was immobilized in the same way, my hips and shoulders pressed against the table, I could no longer move.

 The mask was removed and my eyes blinked. They had increased the amount of light and it fell harshly on me, highlighting my body, tied to the table.

 - You will receive my mark, and you will become my female dog, and then it will be your friend's turn.

 - NO, I yelled, please no, don't do this!

 I couldn't move a finger. Only my eyes could follow the Count.

 He moved away, leaving his place, and I saw a man approach, holding one of the long handles that were heating in the brazier. He was almost red. The man was approaching me inexorably.

 The Count placed his finger on my left breast, where he wanted me to bear his mark for life. The man nodded and raised the iron above me. He began the terrible descent. I could already feel the infernal heat approaching me.... I was screaming before the iron even touched my skin. In a few seconds I would be marked for life by someone other than my Master, with a mark that was not his!

 Then, with a terrible uproar, adding to my terror, several men crashed the dungeon door open and forced their way in.

 The iron stopped its course above me for a short moment and with horror,, I saw it resume its infernal descent towards me, I closed my eyes to avoid seeing the inevitable. It was on the table near my side that it imprinted its cruel mark. The wood sizzled under the bite of the fire. I felt the heat and the smell of the iron. I screamed even louder!

 I didn't understand what was happening. I heard sounds of struggle, screams, blows.

 And then suddenly, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, I saw the worried face of the Marquis above me. In his eyes were questions, in mine were tears. I couldn't speak, I thought I would die of relief. Was it really him? Wasn't I delirious?

 - How are you? It was his voice filled with concern, he was there, cutting the ties that held me prisoner, taking me in his arms, rocking me like a child. I was crying for real this time, with big uncontrollable sobs. He carried me out of the room where people were still shouting and fighting.

 I let myself be carried away, abandoning myself against him, thinking of nothing else but him. He was there, I was in his arms, he had saved me, that's all I knew, all I understood. He held me very tightly against him.

 He rushed out of the house. He ran down the stairs and into a car waiting there with its engine running. It sped off.

 He hadn't let go of me. I opened my eyes when I felt a cool hand rest on my arm. I raised my head from the Marquis's arms and saw her. There she was, my friend, my lover.

 Seeing her there, smiling a little smile, my tears redoubled. The Marquis rocked me gently.

 - Come on, come on, it's over, we're going home , it's over .

 He whispered tender words in my ear, which soothed me, he covered my body with a soft and warm blanket.

 The car was speeding towards the Marquis's castle.

 I was still crying, but more quietly. I was in the arms of my savior and in front of me Lalielou was smiling at me. I tried to smile back at her through my tears. The Marquis stroked my hair, Lalielou took my hand. It was true, it was real, I was saved, we were both saved, and I was not marked.

 - But how did you do it, Mr. Mar...

 - Shh, he said to me, explanations later, later...

 So I let myself go against his chest, smelled his scent and let myself be rocked. I was happy there. ,

 ...