The Order

Chapter 1

At the headquarters of The Order of Saint Ishmael, situated in a picturesque castle in Austria, the Grand Council was holding their first, official bi-monthly meeting. Thirteen people, all dressed in long robes with deep hoods, hiding their faces, were seated around a huge and highly polished table.

The Order of Saint Ishmael, a latter-day club for libertines and BDSM aficionados, had been shaken by the escape of one of the young initiates five years earlier. The girl had fled from the castle, triggering panic and alarm, with the effect that the Grand Council had scattered, spending the next two years meeting in their respective luxury homes, not daring to return, in case the castle -- their headquarters, was raided.

Once they realised that the escaped girl was not going straight to the police, the Order gradually recommenced their initiations and orgies.

Before they ran to their various hideaways, The Order had embarked on a series of trials for a subcutaneous electrical stimulator marketed as a 'SubStim' and were on the point of arranging manufacture in Japan, when the girl, the daughter of two of the wealthiest and best connected of the Grand Council, escaped.

The manufacturing process had begun again and the Order was about to start demonstrations and trials at various private clubs and houses around the world.

However, the number of high-level members had dropped to merely fifty as a great many of the members of the Order had made their sexual lives thoroughly private, terminating any connections to BDSM sites and private clubs. The young women, who were often the daughters of members of the Order were not being sent for training and a new system had to be arranged.

Younger Dominants and Dominatrixes were staying online, rather than risk discovery and ridicule from their classmates at the ancient universities who had connections with the Order.

The Order needed reorganising and rebranding and this meeting was called to work out a way to facilitate this. It all had to be set up slowly and carefully, with great care and delicate attention to detail.

After a long drink of water, the hooded person seated at the head of the table tapped her glass and spoke.

'We need to open up a training establishment -- perhaps in a large country mansion in France?'

The speaker was the de-facto chairman, or rather chairperson as she was the most ruthless and strictly rigid of all the Grand Council. She spoke in English, with an upper-class accent and inflections, rather reminiscent of Dame Judi Dench as 'M' in the James Bond movies.

'I have room in my country house for eight girls. We could market it as a finishing school for young ladies, except of course that the only students will be those selected from the affiliated schools. Maybe someone from Germany or France could open a similar establishment for young gentlemen?'

One of the other hooded committee members nodded. He spoke in German, but needed no interpreter as all the Grand Council spoke the main three European languages, English, French and German. 'I have room at my Schloss. I can hire staff and educate and train ten young gentlemen at a time.'

'What about submissive young men?' the questioner was also female, with a sexy French accent. 'I cannot find any young submissives and I don't want to go trawling the nightclubs. I would like to train five at my Château. Would this be acceptable?'

The Council voted and the first step in rebuilding the now-dormant network was taken.

The chairperson spoke 'I suggest we start as soon as possible. Some girls will be willing and some will need persuading, but I want to see the first six initiates at the end of the year. We have been quiet for too long. We need to start marketing the SubStim as soon as possible, so if you have any submissive females who are suitable for this, please speak now.'

The Council was quiet for a minute. Finally a male voice spoke. 'We don't have anyone here, but maybe we could either wait a while, until the open orgies are recommenced here, or perhaps we could 'persuade' some local prostitutes to try the SubStims?'

There was a vigorous negative shaking of shaded heads. A Council member said ' No one wants to be accused of trafficking and the prostitutes are not suitable.

They may have diseases, or worse be undercover police. No, we must develop this carefully and slowly. We are supposed to be a secret and very exclusive society and we must remain this way. The clientele will return. I forecast a return to full membership by the end of next year.

The clinic will offer surgery, as it has always done, breast enhancement, cosmetic surgery, both facial and labial and penis implants. It will also offer SubStims to any female who wishes so.

This will stimulate, pardon the pun, sales and we will start seeing a return on our investments within five years.'

The Chairperson spoke 'so, we will select our first intake for the 'Finishing School'' she paused, to chuckle. 'in a few weeks. I will visit the various schools and select some eligible candidates. I have a niece who seems to have developed a taste for pornography. She's just turned eighteen and I think, will be suitable for training. She may not be a submissive, but she will have to understand the rigorous training so, if anyone else has suggestions, then please email them to me. Now, let's go down to the first floor playroom and have our first session for the year!'

The thirteen robed figures rose, leaving the room through the ornate carved wooden doors, walking along the long red-carpeted corridor and down the stone staircase to the first floor.

They entered through two doors, one for the males and the other for the females and then the council, by now looking quite different, reassembled in what was effectively a gymnasium/cum dance studio, with a mirrored ceiling and wall and bars on the opposite wall.

Three of the women were dressed in black leather corsets, with black stockings and high leather collars. They were topless, with breasts supported by small cups attached to straps, which lifted and separated each breast.

Their nipples were dark red and one had hers pierced with fine metal rings.

The other three women were dressed in long black leather coats, with tight belts and long black boots. One opened her coat to reveal a Gothic-like black velvet dress, with a net train trailing behind.

All wore dark plum gloss lipstick and dark, kohl-rimmed eyes.

One of the submissives, in the corset and stockings wore a cat-woman-like mask over her eyes. She also wore leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles.

The men were either naked or also dressed in long black coats, with black leather trousers and frilled, Regency-style shirts.

The seven submissives of both sexes knelt, heads bowed and the Dominants, walked around them, each holding a cane or many-tailed whip and one of the women spoke.

'We will draw lots as to who decides what to do first. Take a number.'

Each of the Grand Council members took a token and the woman picked up another box and a book.

She closed her eyes and felt in the other box, withdrawing three tokens and consulting the book, she said 'we will begin with oral sex. All are prepared, I hope?'

The committee nodded to each other and then the woman said 'right, we'll use the circular platform. If you haven't forgotten, six of you lie on that and we'll tie you to the rings. Get to it!'

She walked over to a large, oddly shaped platform, which was covered with velvet and lay down on it, head in the centre and held out her arms, which were then tied with silk scarves (which she always used) and tied above her head. Her legs were spread widely apart and also tied with scarves.

A man took the next slot and his wrists and ankles were secured with rough rope and the next was a woman, tied with leather straps and this continued with each person's preference until the table was full.

There was a place to stand between the spread legs of each person, which gave easy access to the genitals of each person.

The woman spoke again; 'We will spend two minutes with each person and then move on to the next in order to get each person prepared for the next part and then we will swap over. Get to it!'

With that, the man standing between her legs ran his tongue up the inside of her left thigh. She groaned, straining to push her pubis up towards his face.

He backed off and licked her right thigh and then he quickly leaned down and sucked at her engorged clitoris for just a few seconds.

At the next position, a naked man was also moaning as a leather-clad Dom was sucking his balls. The Dominant male then took the erect penis of the restrained man and locking eyes with his partner, he slid his mouth over the head of the penis, licking the end rather like an ice-cream cornet.

The two minutes per person went by too quickly and after the ten minutes was up, the restrained were released with the others quickly swapping places.

After the next ten minutes was up the woman rather shakily picked up the book and checking the token numbers, she announced that 'Number six and number eight will perform for us. I know that member number six is especially skilled with the cane and small whip and so we will enjoy this. Go and tie her up.'

Number six was a tall, well-muscled Dominant, his leather trousers were open, revealing his huge, circumcised penis. He bowed to one of the corseted submissive women and said 'Shall we?'

He led her by the hand to the centre of the room and locking her wrists together, attached them to a chain above her head.

He took a leg spreader and fixed each ankle to either end, pulling her legs wide apart. She looked up and rolled her head up, eyes wide open and very apprehensive for a moment, which brought small moans from the audience watching each movement.

The 'audience' were seated on a dais, close to each other and many were already caressing those nearest to them.

The Dominant man shrugged off his leather coat and picked up a short whip, with rubber thongs.

'This will have her panting and moaning for more. Does she have a SubStim fitted?'

The woman nodded her head and the Dom smiled. 'Well, let's get her turned on shall we?'

He took a small object that resembled an electronic car key and clicked the button and immediately the woman arched her back, moaning and gasping.

He raised the whip and dealt six quick strokes, each with a resounding 'crack!'.

The woman screamed, her buttocks turning red where each the whip landed. The audience gasped, nipples were being rolled and pulled and sucked by other partners and one of the women was on her knees, being rimmed by another.

The Dom took a long black cane and looked at the audience. 'How many?' he asked.

One of the women, eyes heavy-lidded with desire, gasped 'six -- three on each buttock and then two more on each thigh!'

'That's ten,' the man said grinning, enjoying the others' lack of concentration. 'Is that what you secretly want?'

The other woman closed her eyes and groaned 'Yes...oh yes!'

The man standing holding the whip grinned again and turning said to all 'are you ready?'

He really was a master with the cane. Making it whistle through the air on its downward swing. He paused whilst the welt formed and the restrained woman drew in breath for another scream and repeated the action three times on each buttock.

He turned the woman to show off the welts, which were turning purple. He massaged her pubis and clitoris with his other hand, as she cried and gasped to a climax.

He let go of her and then delivered a stroke to each thigh and quickly released her.

He carried her over to the dais and raising her legs and spreading them wider still, plunged his enormous penis into her shaven cunt.

Later, as the various Grand Council members were bathing together in a large, square pool of warm water, the woman who had chaired the meeting spoke. 'I have been in touch with my daughter Emma -- the one who escaped from here and us almost brought us down. She has refused to meet us, but I think that she will give in soon. She has a child now, a boy and from what I know of young women, she'll want him to meet his grandparents.'

One of the other women, similarly middle-aged and with short blonde hair looked up. 'Will you punish her?'

The chairwoman, Linnette de Courcy shook her head. 'We were forced to make a legally binding promise that we would leave her alone. Do you know that she and her husband Sir James are reconciled? She didn't divorce him and eventually forgave him and they live together again. The boy is theirs.'

The other woman laughed, 'I'll bet good money that their sex life is pure vanilla!'

Linnette smiled, 'it may be, but as long as they keep quiet, I'll not think of their betrayal or boring sex life. Now, are you completely satisfied, or would you like another orgasm?'

The other woman stretched, breasts bobbing in the warm water and brushed her fingers across the nipples, watching them harden and rise.

'I think that's your answer there,' she said and waded towards Linnette, their lips meeting in a long, passionate kiss.

Linnette lifted the other woman, Sandrine and slipped two fingers into her.

Sandrine, instantly wet and slippery with arousal, moaned and tightened her tongue, to penetrate Linette's mouth.

She slipped her hands under Linette's breasts, rubbing the nipples with each finger and thumb, pulling on them and then rolling them, whilst Linette rubbed her hand over Sandrine's clitoris.

The two women carried on like this, long hard kisses and sliding their bodies together until they both began to shudder with simultaneous climaxes.

'Whoa,' Linnette was panting, 'there's nothing like post-coital sex for squeezing out that extra orgasm. I'm sore now, but it was worth it and no mess!'

Sandrine stretched languorously and walked out of the pool, 'I've got wobbly legs!' she noted and turned to her friend, 'I've missed orgies at the Castle. It'll be nice to have something to look forward to again.'

Linnette waved her hand and stood up suddenly 'Come to my place in a month's time? We can pick and train some new girls together -- it'll be fun and there's nothing like tight young girls to play with!'

At Saint Catherine's School for Young Ladies, the sixth form girls were listening to a 'health' talk from one of the nuns.

Caroline Bennet, eighteen and three months, was trying hard not to laugh out loud. She bent her head down, so that Sister Agatha wouldn't spot the tears of laughter from being spotted. She blew her nose and risked a quick look up towards the front of the classroom.

Sister Agatha, sixty-five years old and considered to be the most forward-looking of the nuns, was talking about contraception.

'Girls -- I know you won't be having sex before marriage, but once you are married -- and I recommend you do take the plunge as soon as possible, you know that the temperature or rhythm method is the only way permitted by our Pope.

Caroline raised her hand, 'Sister Agatha, what if my husband isn't a Catholic or doesn't believe that contraception is any of the Church's business?' she smiled an innocent (she hoped) simper and sighed.

Sister Agatha wasn't amused. 'Caroline Bennet, your question is impertinent. The Church is infallible and you will not marry a non-Catholic -- or rather, I hope you won't. You will marry the right man -- one in whom your parents trust and I won't say another word on this matter.'

That night in her bedroom, Caroline let her hand stray down to her groin, closing her eyes and shutting out the 'Jesus is watching' picture above her desk.

She had a tub of coconut and shea butter in her bedside table, supposedly for moisturising her knees and lower legs, but Caroline put it to better use, circling her clitoris, before stroking herself and feeling the moisture start inside. She had fantasies of strong men, bending over her and kissing her hard, then picking her up and throwing her down onto a bed, a four poster, securing her hands with silken scarves and then tormenting her to a mind-blowing climax.

Caroline couldn't wait to leave school. She would pass her A-levels, she knew this, but she was tired of the other girls and of the discipline of the nuns. She wasn't going to be nun, for fuck's sake, she was going to be a, well something interesting, a courtesan maybe. She was obsessed with sex, thinking about it several times a day and losing concentration. She was going to get laid as soon as she possibly could, that was for sure.

The A level exams would start next week and in two weeks, Caroline would be free. 'Free at last!' she said in a faux American accent and drifted off to sleep.

Exactly two weeks later, she left school. 'Bye and good riddance' she mouthed as she waved to the nuns who came to see her off.

Her mother was waiting at home.

'Oh darling, it's good to see you. I'm afraid that your father and I are booked on a cruise, which leaves this weekend, but you'll be okay with Mrs Nivens to look after you, won't you?

Just think -- you can go out and ride your pony or take some driving lessons, whatever you wish. We'll miss you of course, but I think you'll be happy on your own. As I remember, I used to count the days until the holiday came. No more girls or nuns or rules.'

She smiled at Caroline, who indeed had counted the days until she was free.

Caroline had just four days with her parents and in that time, she went shopping with her mother and bought a mountain of clothes and got her hair cut and coloured.

'It was nice to spend this time with Mummy' she said on the phone to her best friend Fiona. 'How are you doing? Are your parents going away as well?'

'No, sod it.' Fiona sounded cross and almost in tears. 'Caro, they are sending me to a sodding finishing school. I'll be taught to be a lady and live like a nice Catholic girl, all quiet and boring and fucking dead from boredom.'

Caroline was silenced for a moment. 'What? Where? Which school is it?'

Fiona paused for a moment 'It's a new one, Fernhall Mansions in bloody Northumberland for fuck's sake. No shops, no pubs, no nightclubs and no fun. Caro -- would you ask if you can go as well? I'll go nuts without you.'

Caroline promised to ask her parents about it and walked downstairs to the drawing room to find her parents were sitting there talking and looking at a brochure, which to Caroline's surprise was 'Fernhall Mansion Finishing School for Young Ladies'.

'Hey, that's the school that Fiona is going to. Can I go too?'

Her mother frowned, 'Caroline, we are not horses and we don't eat hay and it's 'may' I go too and the answer is yes, by the way.'

Caroline just heard the final yes, having tuned out the correction to her grammar and she asked when the school was going to start the course and her mother told her that it would be the Monday after they left for their cruise, which gave her precisely two nights to go out and get legless and possibly deflowered before the course began.

'Is there a uniform?'

Her mother smiled an odd smile, secretive and knowing and she looked across at Caroline's father, who had turned and was looking out of the window. He swallowed and nodded his head. Caroline could swear that he'd been trying not to laugh, but she couldn't think why.

'There's a uniform, but the college will supply it. All you have to do is turn up on Monday. The chauffeur will drive you up there and then we'll see you a month later.'

Caroline waved her parents goodbye on the Saturday morning and then went back upstairs to see if she could find something unsuitable to watch on the television.

She grew bored after an hour and headed for the library. Oh for a good chicklit read, but all the leather-bound books looked old and boring. There was a book that had been left on a shelf and Caroline picked it up, wondering what it was.