Winning Ways

Imogen had suddenly withdrawn the heel, pressing the sole against her hairy anus, then sliding her foot higher and higher on her arse and onto her back. But she was completely surprised when a cold metal touched her closed pink rosebud. She winced, feeling the metal, but then found herself obeying Imogen's orders to sit back on the heel, letting the thin stiletto sink bit by bit into her anus. There was a discomfort but also a pleasant sensation that spread out from her sphincter. She began to want more of the surrogate dick in her arse, anally fucking her as she masturbated and pressed harder against the shoe as she relaxed and opened to this new experience. Her pleasure grew as her fingers found and teased her clitoris to its thickest and most engorged state. She'd always liked her slightly larger than average little 'button of delight' as Anissa had called it.

"Oh yes, Isabella, you are wonderful. You know so much. Oh, please...fuck my arse...fuck me..fuck me..."

There was little for Imogen to do. Zeta was rocking back and fore against the heel, sliding more and more down the rectum. And as she did, Imogen was wanking her own cunt, her fingers deep inside, taking her own gratification.

"Cum for me," she ordered Zeta.

"I can't just do it to order," she panted in reply.

"Yes you can," Imogen retorted. "Do it now," she snapped, beating the young woman's arse brutally.

The screams were masked by the noise of the train as it entered a tunnel, but Zeta was astonished that she was suddenly cumming with spasms following one on top of the other. Even more so given Imogen was not ceasing to whip her, creating thick painful weals on Zeta's arse and thighs as she masturbated herself close to her own peak of ecstasy.

Close, but not fully there.

"Come here slut and lick my pussy."

The young bitch was now in her power. Obediently she turned round, struggling with the weakness in her legs, but dropped her mouth to her older lover's cunt lips. The jewels seemed to act like lights, dancing in front of her. She started tentatively, just as she had with Anissa that day, but now she knew she felt more for this woman. She could feel the sting of her buttocks but it did not deter from pressing her mouth hard on the woman's cunt. Her tongue went in deep, its pointy tip lapping and probing. Imogen was pushing harder and harder against her face, smothering her and not caring. She felt subjugated and yet so happy to be in this state. It was both humiliating and pleasurable; even when her older companion began to lean across her back and spank her already tortured arse. Then, as she felt her face awash with her lover's juice, she knew her new companion was going to cum. Imogen's body seemed to shake, first gently then uncontrollably and her crotch ground into Zeta's face.

"Ahhhhhhh! Yes!!!" Was all that was heard before Imogen fell asleep, exhausted.

"Isabella, Isabella?"

Imogen awoke to her new young lover gently shaking her. How long had she been asleep? She stretched her naked body, which had lain on the floor for God knows how many hours. Her companion had carefully wrapped a blanket from the bunk above around her and placed a pillow under her head. For a bitch the girl had been very caring.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"It's nearly 07.00hrs. The stewardess will be bringing breakfast in about 15 minutes. Would you like to shower? I have taken the liberty of removing your shoes and cleaning them." She lowered her head, aware of the implication that her own shit may have been on one of the heels. There was a certain embarrassment but then a perverse joy in having been subjugated so much that she had accepted being fucked in the arse, even if it was by a shoe.

Imogen was aware too, regretting having fallen asleep. Her directive had been clear; she was to place the Bitch in a position of subjugation. What delight her master would have taken from knowing she had been made to lick the heel that had been inside her arsehole. [Yes, readers, when I read her accounts later I was disappointed, but I understood she had had a tiring day. I only caned her a dozen times for her disobedience]

"Put that card outside the door, instructing the stewardess to leave the food outside."

"Ok," replied Zeta, reaching for a blanket to wrap herself in.

"No, you must stay naked," Imogen commanded in a sharp voice.

Her protégé dropped the blanket to the floor and walked to the door, opening it tentatively, just as a stewardess was passing. Her naked breasts, complete with nipple rings, would be on show if she opened it further. 'Ok, in for a penny...' she thought to herself and continued to open the door, being deliberate about placing the note. She noticed the stewardess staring at her, so decided to act.

"Er, stewardess, I don't know your name?"

"I'm Irena," said the Polish-sounding woman who was somewhere in her mid-twenties.

"Irena, we want to take some showers. Can you delay breakfast for 30 minutes please?"

"Yes, certainly madam," replied the woman, her eyes roaming not only Zeta's breasts but the full naked body still clad in those suicide heels. There was a soft sigh from her lips. Was Zeta mistaken? Instead of being ashamed she felt exhilarated. Another woman found her attractive. Then she realised the woman was still speaking. "Is 30 minutes enough? I can arrange for it to be in an hour if that would help?" she asked, winking as she said the last few words.

What was happening here?

"Yes, that would be much better, thank you."

She closed the door, still thinking about that woman. She was older than she was, tall and very slim. Her breasts were not very large, but her hips were childbearing. She imagined her naked, bent across a table and her buttocks striped by a cane. A hand was rubbing between her legs as more stripes were laid across the prone body. She was there to be used and abused, no more. And that was what she realised she had allowed herself to be; used and abused. Her hand went subconsciously to her cunt lips, parting the outer to touch her clit.

"So sexy, is it fixed up?"

She took her hand away from her cunt like it was on fire. Imogen's question brought her back to reality and she felt embarrassed; inexplicably given everything that had happened between them.

"Come and shower me," ordered Imogen, "And give me a good morning fingering."

Soon they were in the cramped shower compartment together, once the young woman was out of her shoes. Zeta accepted that she was pushed onto the cold back wall, allowing her lover more comfort. Their breasts were pressed against each other and with soap and a little imagination they brought each other off to some quick but satisfying orgasms. The relationship seemed a little more equal that morning.

Once their pleasure subsided, and they regained their strength, they chatted loudly. Imogen quizzed Zeta about her parents and her partners. It was clear that Anissa was actually her first real lover and even that had been a purely physical thing. Paul had been wrong that she fucked everything in sight behind her mother's back. In fact, she was turning out to be not at all worldly wise. She knew how to swear but so did every 18-year-old. However, about fucking she was naïve. A virgin as far as cock was concerned. It was going to be so good taking that away from her.

"Tell me, does your mother have anyone in her life?"

"Yes, she has Paul. Paul Stebbings is his name. He has sent me to Madam Honfleur as part of some deal with my mother before they marry."

"Is he a nice man?"

"I thought he was a prick until today. He could have really been a nasty bastard when he found me with my er...my...friend...Anissa. He did puzzle me by giving my arse a hard squeeze and telling me something about Madam Honfleur just before he left the train. I missed what he said as my arse was on fire, but not with the hurt I have to admit. I got a funny feeling down there. When I look back on things he has tried to help me, but I was jealous of mummy. She had always been close to me and then he came along...stupid really."

"Yes, but we are all stupid when we are jealous, aren't we? What is he like though...you know," Imogen was pressing, as ordered, to know what she thought of him physically as well as mentally. She made gestures to indicate this as she kept up her informal chatter.

"Well, I did sneak in one night and see mummy fucking him in the lounge. They did not know I was there as they fucked in front of the fireplace. I was so jealous of all the love he was giving her..."

"I can understand, but I'm sure he has no desire to reject you or take over. But tell me...what was his cock like...and what did your mother look like?"

"Oh, he is huge ...I have not seen many cocks except in magazines but his is like a fist. It may have been the play of the lights but..." Imogen was nodding, possibly a little too enthusiastically, as she knew its large girth and length, craving it at that very moment. " I saw my mother's face at the instant he impaled her on him. It was one of sheer ecstasy if not a little pain. I understand her now, though would be fearful of one so big. His big shaven balls I could imagine taking into my mouth, just like in those porn movies, but that cock..."

"It seems you observed your future father well! Ah yes, but by the time you leave Madam Honfleur's you will know the correct etiquette for dealing with such a monster."

"At Madam Honfleur's?"

Imogen realised she may have said too much. She looked away and added, "Yes, the women talk and give each other advice." She smiled, knowing that when Zeta met the man they called 'the Horse' she would know real fear of a man and discover what it meant to please someone of such girth and length.

There was a knock on the door. "Breakfast ladies".

"Ah good, I am famished." Imogen opened the door, despite the fact they were both naked. Zeta giggled, forgoing any attempt to cover herself up. They both enjoyed noting how the stewardess studiously tried to avoid looking at their nudity, but was sneaking peeks at every opportunity. She was particularly taken by Imogen's jewellery collection.

"Oh I am sorry miss, I've left my stuff all over. Here let me help," offered Imogen, deliberately taking her time over moving their dresses and shoes that had been placed on the table on papers for the night. She brushed her full naked breasts against the woman and then as she turned again having put down the tray made sure she was in her path. As she got out of her way so in the narrow compartment she bumped into Zeta who was joining in the game. They saw how her white skin was flushed and her hand did that subtle 'checking' gesture that women make when anxious or unsure. Her hand stroked the back of her long, graceful neck and her ample bosom was heaving like an actress in a melodrama. Imogen took her hand, holding it longer than necessary, and planted a £20 note in it. Her thumb, unseen to Zeta stroked the back of the woman's hand and she whispered, "Come back when you have served the others if you like."

"She is curious now isn't she?" asked Zeta.

"Wow, you are quick and gaining a 'gaydar' as they call it you little minx!"

"I just...er...sensed it. Maybe it was the way she reacted before when I put out the note completely nude. I saw she had a wedding ring, but her eyes said there was something..."

Imogen took a step forward and kissed Zeta full on the lips. Her hand slid down her body, clasping her young cunt roughly. She slipped a finger inside without a by-your-leave then raised it and shared the wet cunt juice, smearing it on their faces as they kissed. Just as quickly as she had made the assault she broke away.

"Now, when she comes in," she said breathlessly, "We will both give her a greeting kiss with the smell of your cunt on both our faces. Then we shall see if she can resist her curiosity."

It was only ten minutes later when their ample-breasted stewardess knocked, but readers that is a story for another time. My faithful slut had a mission to get Zeta to Madam Honfleur's.

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Chapter Four -- Madam Honfleur's Finishing School for Boys and Girls

They arrived at the station exactly on time. Imogen was a little disappointed because she knew Madam Honfleur would start her discipline at the slightest excuse and a late running train was a classic beginning for a visit to Madam. However, as a novice to the place, Zeta would soon get a measure of what the finishing school specialised in. An evil smile crossed her lips, followed by a sickly sweet one as Zeta climbed down from the train and held her hand.

They waved to Irena, their stewardess, who was standing brushing back her dishevelled hair. Her soaking wet panties were in her pocket and her tits hung that little bit lower as her bra was located in her other one. She would not forget that journey in a hurry and had arranged out of earshot of Zeta to meet Imogen on the return train in three days time, but as a passenger and guest of the lawyer. Some quick arrangements on the Blackberry© had seen to that.

Imogen turned round again to face the huge frame of Marcel, Madam Honfleur's son. His shoulders were broad and his chest was obviously incredibly muscled. One look to his crotch suggested a manhood that could split a virgin. Everything about him was colossal, including a wide mouth that gave such a pleasant greeting to them both.

"Welcome, Ms Zeta and Ms..er..."

"Isabella..." Zeta said, speaking for her new friend while her eyes stayed transfixed on the tight apex of this hunk of a man. She estimated that even sleeping his cock was enormous. All her brain could think about was 'how big must it be when erect?' It made her shiver with excitement and fear, and left her with a lot of wetness between her naked thighs.

"Follow me," he said, escorting them to a limousine in black with equally blackened windows. For Imogen it sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. For Zeta, the fear returned as they opened the door and stepped inside.

"Greetings darlings," came the slightly accented voice from the far end of the long American car.

It took a while to adjust to the dim light, but then Zeta made out the figure of a woman in about her early 50's with a body so slim and graceful looking judging by the way she sat.

"Hello Madam Honfleur," Imogen replied, "So good to see you again. I presume you would like us to take the position that all good ladies of Honfleur adopt?"

"Of course"

Zeta watched astonished as her friend slipped to the floor on bended knees, sat back on her bright red heels and crossing her arms over her body pulled her little black dress up over her head. She then carefully folded it and placed it at her side, sitting back on her heels again, naked and with her head bowed as if in homage.

"Now you," she whispered to her companion.

"Me?" the young one replied indignantly in a sharp whisper, " I don't know the woman. It's not like Irena and ..."

"Is there a problem my darlings?"

"No Madam, no...just Zeta is not..."

She gestured to Zeta, almost pleading, willing her to join her. If she didn't she knew what would happen next.

"Horse, take charge."

'Too late', thought Imogen, at one instant regretting this and at another relishing what would happen next. Ah, some discipline.

Madam Honfleur's son, who to this point had sat silently at Zeta's side smiled at her, then in a flash reached out at the front of her dress. His hands scooped inside the delicate silk, his knuckles skimming over her sensitive nipples, grasped the material firmly in his hands and ripped the dress from top to hem like it was paper. In seconds Zeta was naked bar her red shoes.

"Kneel, slut," he ordered the speechless bitch to do.

Zeta silently but quickly slid onto the plush carpet, assuming the same position as Imogen; hands behind her back, sitting on her heels, and head bowed. She felt suddenly so vulnerable, so exposed. Yet there was pleasure in this position of humiliation and obedience, even if her rebellious brain chose to resist. She blushed profusely, the heat of embarrassment spreading and because she was naked, reached over her entire body.

"Now that is better, isn't it?" Madam asked, in that soft, almost caring voice yet with a hint of something else. It was the way she asked the last part; with menace cutting through the reassurance. Zeta shivered involuntarily.

"Cold dear? Or afraid?" she asked, and then laughed. "You have been sent here to learn some manners and the ways of a young woman. Our methods are, er, unorthodox, but from what I have learned already about you, I think you will do just fine here. However, when we get to the house, you will have some preliminaries to attend to."

The car started up. She could not see the driver, fearing for some reason to look up but stayed rooted to the spot, only adjusting the width of her knees to ensure she did not fall over. Her body would not stop shivering, but was it fear or anticipation? Did she crave humiliation or did she want to avoid this? Her mind was racing, remembering the debauched night before, the fucking on the heel, the corruption of the stewardess and the words of Paul, who must have been telling the truth about the place they were heading to. So, if she was afraid, why was her pussy dripping with excitement?

"Darling, follow what your cunt tells you to do," Madam advised softly, "The wetness of your sweet young pussy never lies."

How could she know? How could she tell being so far down the car?

"I have CCTV installed honey," she said sweetly, answering the unspoken question. Then a bank of screens flipped open on the sides and came down from the ceiling of the stretched car. Her pussy was displayed in perfect, beautiful Technicolor, its copious bush on show for everyone to see. She glanced up at the monitor, then back to her bowed position. What shame, but what beauty! She liked the long lips of her cunt.

"My God, mother," Marcel exclaimed, "She has far too much hair! They hide a sex that has such promise."

"Yes my beauty. That fur will have to come off as soon as we arrive." She spoke as if Zeta was just a prize animal that needed grooming.

Then there was silence as the car slowly wound its way through country lanes for what seemed an eternity as the two naked women sat obediently. This part of Britain Zeta knew only from the news. It was an area of outstanding beauty but nothing happened quickly. Even the way people talked was slow and roads were inadequate for large vehicles. Every summer the news showed the traffic jams in the small towns of the West Country.

___________________________

"Ah, we are nearly there!" Madam exclaimed, excitedly. Strange for someone who lived there all the time, Zeta thought. Or was the excitement more to do with their current state and what was to happen to them? Her mind was whirring with thoughts, thoughts that had become more distorted and twisted as the silence had become almost endless in the car.

Madam's statement coincided with the rumble of the wheels as they crossed something. First the front tyres, then a silence, then the rumble again at the back. The car was climbing as Zeta sneaked a look out the side windows. They were on some sort of private estate, surrounded by sheep and fields. It must have been a cattle grid. Ironic, she thought, as the last conversation about her was like some farmer appraising their new cow. She was damned if that was going to happen. Submissive or not she was a person, wasn't she?

Within about another minute they stopped. She heard the whirring of what must have been gates. Yes, there was a clatter as the heavy iron doors swung back and they proceeded again. Then, they stopped once more.

"Look up now, child."