Jacqueline's heart sank at the word "chastisement" but her brain wondered if Larry merely used it to inflict some more psychological torment. After all, the table was set for two diners and she assumed that the servants did not dine with the master of the house so he must surely intend feeding her. She very much hoped so, as she now felt starved.

Marcel moved one chair from the table, taking it and putting it against the inner wall nearest to the double doors. Returning with one that was plainer, more sturdily built, he placed it so that the high fiddle back was closest to the table. Jacqueline was intrigued by what she saw, there a three-inch phallic-like plug of wood protruding from the middle of the seat.

Kneeling before her, Marcel unclipped the hobbling chain from her boots, his one hand lightly, almost furtively, caressing her calves as he did so.

"Right, slave, sit down facing the table and make certain you impale yourself," Larry said, jerking on the lead, causing her to step forward.

How utterly degrading, Jacqueline thought. But what was she to do? She calculated that she could probably kick both men in their gonads if she was quick, and then run. But, run to where? She could not open any of the doors except by possible use of some extreme contortions so they would therefore soon catch her. Then what would they do to her?

The moment passed, Larry dragging her forward, leaving her with no alternative. Straddling the chair, she lowered herself, Larry guiding her lower regions until the wooden plug slipped between her labia.

"U-u-u," she groaned, part protest, partially due to it actually causing a sexual tingling to occur. She doubted it was big enough to actually have the effect of a man-sized penis, it clearly meant to simply stimulate without giving fulfilment, thereby causing her more frustrated anguish.

Both Larry and Marcel knelt at either side of her, they wrenching her calves forward until they were parallel with the chairs' back legs, they using fixed leather straps to secure them in place.

"Marcel, go and tell Vanessa we're ready to eat," Larry said, in English, as he stood up.

Without a word, the servant complied, heading off down the stairs.

The top rail of the back of the chair proved to be in two parts, it hinged on one side. Larry lifted the upper portion. Both parts had a pair of matching semi-circular cut-outs.

"Get your tits over the back," he ordered, his right hand shoving against her left shoulder blade to ensure she complied.

No sooner were her breasts draped over the lower portion of the top rail than he closed the upper part. Like some small version of the old-fashioned pillories, he locked it, trapping her by the mammary glands. Fortuitously, it was more an uncomfortable feeling rather than a painful one.

"U-u-u," she protested, unhappy at being treating thus. Her brain cogitated: if he did this sort of thing to her what else was he capable of doing?