Oxana felt a tremor slither through her entrails. Although she had been the subject of session after session in the various cellars, she had never had the chance-especially if she was hooded blind, deaf and dumb-of studying the preparations for the whippings and flesh torture. All she did was to present her nudity for the chains, contort lasciviously and thrash about under the scourge or instruments until she was ready to come; and then when the sanction was forthcoming, to hurl herself into a series of her ear-splitting orgasms.

It was Mechtild herself who briefed her the following day.

"Ophelie's going to take you round the dungeons, one after another, 606, so that you may observe in detail some of the more advanced sessions in progress. I want you to pay scrupulous attention to how the staff and guests deal with your colleagues. Of course, you yourself have been at the receiving end on countless occasions and I cannot guarantee that you won't be ordered to take the place of one of your debilitated colleagues, should a visitor be still in need of more flesh. I can't do much to prevent that, you understand."

The slave nodded unhesitatingly, at which her overseer added: "By the way, now you may speak without being given my permission. It's a concession that accompanies a future promotion."

So, there was the confirmation! Oxana felt a shock of joy envelop her body.

"Thank you, mistress. I shall serve the Folterschloss and do what I am ordered."

"Of course you will, my Oxana." For the first time, the slave number was dropped. "So, now Ophelie, start her off on her rounds for the day. Begin with Cellar II and work up to XIX. No need to waste time on XVIII and menstruation-too cheerless for words. And particularly as our preposterous melodrama of the other week seems to have originated there. A crisis in which you, Oxana, seem to be entirely innocent. It will not impede your promotion, that I promise. Go now and learn."

The exculpated slavegirl sighed with relief and set out with the blonde mistress.

Three leather-clad guests were already hard at work in the stifling candlelit area of Cellar II amid chains and whips. A deliciously naked female, resembling Claire of all people, hung shuddering against a broad structure of steel bars in the form of a grid. Suspended head down, the slaves arms and muscular legs reached out to the corners of the framework, the inverted breasts wrenched downwards by the teat rings to the wrists, the wet fringes of the vulva spread open and similarly chained outwards to the metal uprights. From one side of the jerking body, a booted, veiled woman in nothing other than straps and gauntlets, was lashing the downturned breasts with a thin rod of bamboo, fomenting the taut flesh into purple welts; standing in front of the extended nude victim, a male guest, equally disrobed and in full erection, was using a quirt on the inner thigh tendons, each third or fourth stroke burying into the gaping oval of the slave's sex. The other man, a stalwart, middle-aged flogger Oxana had encountered on several memorable occasions herself in other cellars, was leaning against the wall chatting with Ghislaine. It was the first time Oxana had seen the terrifying beauty actually on duty and that alone was sufficient to scare her. As for Claire, her back-stretched throat seemed only able to let out staccato cries despite-or perhaps, Oxana thought, on account of-the tortion exerted on her limbs and the force of the beatings.

Then she saw the overseer nod to an attendant-Ghislaine always used male valets or Semion to assist in work on members of her cohort-to wheel forward the trolley, an item that reminded her of the slut Elspeth and the initial ringing session. Finally, the second male came forward, massaging his cock, to select from among the instruments laid out on the trolley what Oxana knew to be the steel flesh wrench; at that point the whipping ceased. Craning her neck to follow what was about to be inflicted on Claire's flooded sex, no doubt to release orgasm, Oxana felt Ophelie's hand on her hip.

"Let's move," the slave mistress whispered. "We've a lot to cover today."

Disappointed at not being able to watch the climax and drenched with downpour, Oxana followed her guide. She had never experienced or watched a stretched, whipped female sex orgasm under a clamping tool...

Ophelie eased open the portal of Cellar III, where, among other things, Oxana knew from experience slaves were habitually slung, belly down in a thrilling curve of nudity, from chains mounting to the four corners of the vaulting. As the future slave mistress entered, a piercing scream reached her from the previous dungeon, testimony that Claire had hurtled into orgasm and probably the first of many. Then the door closed for Oxana's education to continue.

There the scene was more familiar. Oxana had undergone the chain-slinging on several nights in the past, the weight and resilience of her pendant breasts bringing her renown among guests-which was more, she believed, than the thin Portia hanging there could hope to gain. The sexually attractive brunette's belly curved only a meter from the straw-scattered paving, her sex rings dangling below the splendid camber of the body, the meagre sex fronds and nipple cones extended to the full by chains and iron lugs.

"Notice they've jammed a riding crop across her mouth and behind the arms to keep her head up," Ophelie whispered. "It adds wonderfully to the tension. That'll be one of your duties when the time comes, as well as ratcheting the body up to the exact height they want. Never crank a slave up too high. They need clear access to all three orifices during the flagellation, you see. You've got to be precise."

"But the head's blocked where it is, up there," the practical Oxana remarked.

"They'll let it down for fellatio or cunnilingus. I thought you'd been through this. Anyway, watch and learn." And the trainee watched to increase her know-how.