INTRODUCTION

 

We have followed the misfortunes of Julia - and Melissa - from 'Naked Cargo' to 'Julia in Captivity'. In that last book, the life of one of the two girls changed quite dramatically. Quentin Osman, the man who had once owned Melissa as a slave-girl, decided to marry her!

His wife, Glenda, having recently been killed in a car accident, he needed a companion. Who better than this ravishing creature who had already given him so much pleasure? Why should he not continue to enjoy her on a different level altogether?

Melissa, at first disbelieving, was only too happy to agree to the arrangements ...despite all her previous, frightful experiences at Quentin's hands. All that she quickly put aside. Expunged from her mind as best she could. Surprisingly, it was easier than she at first imagined it would be.

Quickly Melissa slipped into the role of adored wife.

With a will of her own again . .

With power again ...

The power for example, to consign Julia to a 'Refresher Course' on board the dreaded 'S.S.' Paradise. The power to consign another woman there too. This was Rosalie, once one of Quentin's aides ... and who had treated Melissa with merciless cruelty. Now it was to be Rosalie who would suffer the agonies of the damned.

As for Havers, another of Quentin's aides, he, after castration, had been shipped for use in a Middle East male brothel. Not much of a future for him! Melissa frankly admitted she had enjoyed personally carrying out the operation. And arranging Havers' new way of life. In view of what that brute had put her through, time and again, that is not surprising!

Having been forced to submit utterly, Melissa found it remarkably easy to follow the swing of the pendulum and contemplate with the very greatest pleasure her new role of dominatrix. Prior to slavery, she could not recall being particularly sadistic. Now she knew she definitely was. Doubtless her experiences had changed her. It was Nature's way of compensating her.

Certainly, in every sense, it seemed to Melissa she would make the ideal partner for Quentin Osman.

CHAPTER ONE

 

"Quentin ..."

"Yes, my dear?"

"I've been thinking ..."

"Uh-hu ...good for you."

Quentin Osman's reply was lazy. He stretched out a hand and patted Melissa's bare, warm thigh. The lightly bronzed thigh of the wife of just less than a month. The couple were stretched out on two loungers, side by side, under a beach umbrella. It was very warm, but there was always the cool blue Mediterranean nearby to plunge into.

Melissa gave Quentin's midriff a playful pat. It was a different midriff to his pre-marriage days. Quentin had been dieting and exercising, spurred on by his young wife and determined to look less than his fifty years. He was beginning to succeed.

"Hey, wake up you ... and listen," said Melissa.

How different it was from former days! Then it had always been Quentin who gave the orders and Melissa who obeyed them. Now Quentin was happy to submit to his enchanting young bride's whims and wishes. Frankly he reckoned he was enjoying her more as a wife than he had done as a slave-girl. He could not remember before being so stimulated both physically and mentally. Certainly he had not felt fitter for years. He pushed himself up on one elbow and turned towards Melissa.

"Let's have it then," he said with a sleepy grin. His eyes gloated possessively on his wife's shapely body, clad in tight-fitting white, one-piece swimsuit. Sometimes Quentin could not believe Melissa was his wife! And how delightful it was to be the envy of so many younger men. Yes ... yes ... it was far preferable to have this woman as a wife than a slave.

"I don't want to go back to Cragness," said Melissa.

Quentin looked startled, suddenly wide awake.

"Don't want to go back?" he queried. "But ... but ... all arrangements have been made. With Madame Vesta, I mean. You can't chuck it in now. Think of all the fun we can have together. Why, Melissa? Have you suddenly got cold feet?"

Melissa shook her rich, dark auburn locks. "Don't be silly, Quentin," she replied. I don't want to chuck it in. Far from it. I simply said, I don't want to go back to Cragness."

"Aahh ..."

"Understandable, isn't it?"

"Of course. Sorry ... ." Quentin ran a hand over Melissa's smooth back. He recalled, suddenly, how much he had enjoyed whipping that back. Melissa had been the first woman he had ever whipped. Quickly Quentin switched his mind back to the present. He mustn't think about Melissa in that way anymore. She was his wife. And soon she would be his slave-mistress. "Rather tactless of me."

"Typical of a man," said Melissa, without rancour.

"What do you propose then, my dear?"

"That we move the whole caboodle over to France. All the gear, all the security devices. There's no reason why we can't operate in this country ... rather than that gloomy barracks perpetually surrounded in mist."

Quentin was silent for a little while, gazing into the haze above the powder-blue sea. "You're right, my dear," he said at last. "That dump certainly leaves a lot to be desired."

Melissa smiled at him. A dazzling white smile composed of small, perfectly even teeth. Quentin, in fact, had not yet quite got used to her smiling. It was a revelation. "I thought you'd see it my way," she said, a shade smugly.

"Of course ... of course ... you're the boss now, my lovely," smiled Quentin happily. "But it will take a bit of planning. We still need a certain amount of remoteness."

"Quite so. I've already given it a little thought, though. How about somewhere in the Carmargue?"

"Could be," nodded Quentin. The Carmargue was a somewhat desolate region, flat and marshy, stretching westwards from Marseille to where the coast turned down towards Spain. "Let's take a run out there tomorrow. Get the lie of the land. See some agents maybe."

"Lovely idea," said Melissa.

Then she suddenly leapt off the lounger and ran lightly and gracefully down to the sea, her shapely bottom bouncing as it swung from side to side. Quentin watched contentedly. Oh how well he knew that bottom! The sight of it squirming ... the feel of it squirming. Once again Quentin made the effort to pull his mind back to the present. It would be easier to forget such things, he decided , when he had two new young slave-girls to amuse himself with.

Melissa plunged in and swam a long way under water before her head broke surface. The locks tossed and twirled. Then she began to swim smoothly with an easy crawl stroke. Soon her head was hardly more than a distant speck. Quentin had no fears for her safety. Melissa was young, strong and athletic ...

His wife.

 

***

 

Later, in the early evening, Melissa sent one of the house servants down to the Poste Restante. This, for reasons of security, was where any communications from the 'Paradise' were sent. The servant returned with a fairly bulky envelope and Melissa felt the tingle of pleasure within herself as she took it. It looked as if it contained a cassette.

Elegantly dressed in a lightweight, pale pink trouser suit ... hair restored to its glory by a maidservant ... Melissa strolled into her luxuriously furnished boudoir. She and Quentin had separate apartments in the villa. Then she stretched out on a silk-covered chaise longue and opened the letter. Her husband had gone down to the Casino for an hour or so before dinner ... so she had plenty of time to enjoy it.

Yes ... it did contain a cassette.

Melissa put it on the table alongside her. That would come later. She unfolded the letter. As usual, it was from Miss Judith. It seemed that Madame Vesta did not bother with correspondence but left it to her assistants.

 

Dear Mrs. Osman, (read Melissa - and could not help smiling at the formal and respectful mode of address)

 

First, following your requests to Madame Vesta, she asks me to tell you that she will be most happy to supply you with three assistants. Two male, one female. Unless you have any special requirements, she suggests you leave the choice to her. She assures you that you will find all of them adequately experienced in the training of slaves. If you will let her know a suitable airport, Madame Vesta will arrange for the three assistants to be flown there, so that you can interview them to see if they meet with your approval.

(Melissa smiled again. How extraordinary it was that Miss Judith could be writing in this way on behalf of Madame Vesta - especially in view of what agonising dread she had once held both women. The world had indeed turned upside down!)

Now to other events (continued the letter).

Julia has been behaving herself quite well. But, of course, this is only to be expected. She is very popular with the guests, both men and women, of whom we have a considerable number at the present time. The other evening, she gave a superb demonstration of the sexual expertise she has acquired. It took place on the main table after dinner had ended ... and Julia contrived to service three men simultaneously. There was much applause at her performance but I am not at all sure that Julia appreciated it!

(Melissa could imagine the look of scornful amusement on Miss Judith's face as she wrote that.)

Understandably (the letter continued) Julia now gives little cause for punishment. What correction she does receive is mainly for imagined faults, contrived by a guest, or simply for a guest's amusement. Julia has a message for you which doubtless, you will hear on the tape later.

Now we come to Rosalie.

Though there are still some elements of stubbornness and rebelliousness in this slave they have, by now, largely been eradicated. She has at last realised there is no limit to the number of times she can be taken to the Punishment Room ... nor to the severity of the disciplinary treatment she receives there. Accordingly, it can definitely be said her behaviour is improving.

As you requested, I see to it that Rosalie always gets ten extra strokes - whatever the instrument, however severe the punishment - these strokes being administered on your behalf. Always she is informed they are on your behalf before she gets them.

(Melissa's perfect teeth were exposed in a little grimace of cruel pleasure at this information. She knew just how Rosalie would feel at getting those ten extra. But, after what that woman had done to her, it was no more than she deserved. Once Rosalie had been a winner; now she was a loser!)

As instructed by you (went on the letter) I give Rosalie to either Ahmed or Jason daily. Sometimes to both of them, if they are available.

It is this aspect of her servitude which Rosalie obviously finds the most disagreeable. Since she is a thorough-going lesbian, this is natural. At first, such was the frenzy of her resistance, she had to be secured down. It was rape ... and that's not how we like to do things here. Now ... after a deal of hard work and a lot of pain and anguish for her ... she is learning to offer herself in a more suitably submissive manner. However, that woman has a long, long way to go yet before her behaviour is as satisfactory as I would wish. But she will get there ... believe me, she will get there!

(Melissa believed her!)

If neither Ahmed nor Jason are available, I give Rosalie to one of the other assistants. In any event, I make sure she gets plenty of sexual exercise every day. When she had been sufficiently trained, I shall start giving her to guests.

If you have any further instructions regarding this slave of yours, I shall be glad to receive them. And implement them.

At the time of writing, you may like to know that Rosalie is On Report this evening. I shall recommend a birching. Fifteen strokes. In her case, that means twenty five. Tomorrow Rosalie has an hour to do on the Treadmill.

From what I have written I hope you consider our efforts satisfactory at this stage.

Yours, with respect,

MISS JUDITH

 

Melissa put down the letter. She closed her eyes. Long dark lashes lay over her cheeks. My God, she thought, could any revenge be more exquisite?

She thought of what Rosalie had done to her ...

Then she thought of Rosalie's present agonising torments ...

Torments that were going on and on and on ...

Perhaps, at that very moment, Rosalie was screaming ...

Heaven!