This is a work of fiction. Names of people and merchandise, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18 when involved in sexual situations.
WARNING: This is a BDSM story that contains graphic scenes depicting pain.
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Summary of Prologue and Chapters One through Six
Justine recounts her current scene with Mistress Laurine where her Mistress has used both pain and pleasure to push Justine into a dark abyss where she surrenders control to her Mistress.
Justine then recounts how she got there. Justine was once a partner in a Big Four accounting firm and was the engagement partner on a multinational client audit based in Paris. Justine, 43, married, with two adult children, usually would go to bed early instead of hitting the town with her younger team members when the work day was finished.
A flash of mid-life crisis encourages Justine to join her crew. Sasha, one of the team members, suggests they go to a BDSM club in the outer fringes of Paris that she heard about from some of her Paris colleagues. Sasha meets up with a mysterious woman while Justine bides her time before she calls it a day. When leaving, the woman, Laurine, invites Justine to join them. Laurine dispatches Sasha to get drinks and admits to Justine that she only befriended Sasha as a means to meet Justine. Justine tells Laurine that she is not interested in women, but Laurine gets Justine to admit that she is interested in Laurine.
Laurine convinces Justine to go to a private room for a 15 minute introduction into the BDSM world - no strings attached. Justine accepts, and ends up having one of the most violent orgasms of her life after Laurine teases and then hits Justine with a flogger.
Mistress Laurine asks Justine if she wants to go home with her. Justine wants to, but also wants to take time to put her affairs in order. Mistress Laurine is insulted by Justine's failure to immediately go with her. She throws Justine's clothes out into the corridor, pushes a naked Justine out into the corridor and locks the door behind her. Justine scrambles to pick up her clothes. To her embarrassment Sasha is there to help her. Sasha takes Justine back to the hotel and suggests that Justine can now be blackmailed with the knowledge Sasha now has of Justine's public nudity. Sasha accompanies Justine back to Justine's hotel room and takes advantage of her, slapping her to the ground and then forcing herself on Justine's prone body. Justine submits to Sasha and they have furious sex that is satisfying to Justine but is a hollow victory for Sasha.
The next morning Justine puts her personal and professional life on hold. It only takes two phone calls and she realizes that her existing life is disposable and not worth keeping. She puts her efforts into finding Mistress Laurine. She returns to the bar and in return for an exorbitant amount of money secures her phone number. Justine calls but is hung up on. Mistress Laurine lets Justine stew for a few hours and then texts Justine to come to her house.
At the house, Justine is blindfolded and secured by her hands in an upright position. A unknown woman performs analingus on Justine while Mistress Laurine stands in front of Justine and uses her hand to bring Justine to an orgasm. The blindfold is removed and Justine discovers the unknown woman is Sasha. Mistress Laurine tells Justine that she summoned Sasha and discovered the entire story of Sasha's abuse of Justine. They then go to a separate room where Sasha is held. Mistress Laurine administers ten strokes with her flogger that incapacitates Sasha. Justine comforts Sasha and then, at Mistress Laurine's direction, brings Sasha to a rousing orgasm using her mouth.
Mistress Laurine then announces she will administer ten additional strokes for Justine's insubordination the previous night, but that Sasha will serve as Justine's "whipping boy" for her transgressions with Justine. All of them know that Sasha will not be able to endure another whipping. Justine intervenes before the first stroke is administered and accepts the whipping herself. Mistress Laurine's love for Justine increases with Justine's sacrifice, and after the whipping is administered, lays on the floor where they can reach a climax and fall into the Abyss together.
Sasha wants to submit to Justine, and in Chapters 5 and 6 does so. Justine whips Sasha with a leather strap, each unburdening themselves of the resentment and anger towards the other. They fall into the Abyss together, now as lovers.
Chapter Seven
It was a beautiful sunshiny morning in Paris. I'd really started to settle into Mistress Laurine's house, which was located in a fashionable neighborhood near a large park. She was training Sasha and me in the fine art of dominance and submission. There was so much to learn. What a change from my world of international finance to one of submission to another and the giving and receiving of unconditional love and pleasure. I knew I had finally found my place in the world. I was in love with Mistress Laurine. I was in love with Sasha.
Little did I know that my world was constructed with paper mΓ’chΓ©.
Mistress Laurine gave me a small bedroom on the second floor that I was quickly thinking of as home. And speaking of home, I also couldn't suppress my thoughts about my trip in the coming weeks back to the States to see my husband Carl, who was still pretty much in the dark on my change in lifestyle. I'm sure he was suspicious of my extended absence. I usually don't hold over on an engagement more than a week. It had already been two. I still hadn't quite figured out how to handle that interaction.
I put on my well-worn jeans that always travel with me and a simple yellow cotton top. To celebrate my new freedom I decided to go braless. I pulled back my hair in a ponytail with a rubber band. Because it was Paris I couldn't go completely casual so I selected a newly acquired pair of Kate Spade high heel sandals to complete my ensemble.
I was about to head out to pick up my usual caffΓ© latte and chocolate croissant at the corner patisserie when there was a knock on the front door. I opened the door to greet a woman who was very well dressed for an 8 a.m. visit. She was tall and striking in appearance like Mistress Laurine but with long wavy red hair. She also shared the same piercing green eyes as Mistress Laurine. She was wearing a red tweed jacket over a silk blouse, a matching wool skirt cut about 3 inches above the knee and an expensive set of black leather stilleto heels. I'm above average in height and this woman in her heels was at least 6 inches taller than me. She had a large bust and long slender legs. She was beautiful, but the kind of beautiful that has a hard edge . . . an edge that can cut. She dressed and carried herself in a way that spoke business, not pleasure.
"Bonjour," I said in my passable French.
"You're American," she replied in English in that haughty tone Parisians are infamous for using with foreign visitors.
"I am." I tried to be civil.
"Are you another one of Laurine's stray cats that she finds on the streets of Paris?" Those were fighting words and I didn't even have my morning coffee.
"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
"I didn't offer it. Now are we going to play games or are you going to let me in?"
"I think we'll continue to play games. You're not a nice person." I was suppressing the urge the slam the door in her face.
"You don't know the half of it. Now kindly step aside."
"I don't think so."
She struck me in the face with the palm of her hand. Now that's twice in the span of two weeks that I've been slapped in the face. And that's the only two times in my life. I staggered to the side and the woman pushed passed me into the entrance way. I was too stunned to put up a fight.
"Laurine!!" she shouted.
Mistress Laurine was coming down the stairs, still tying her robe, and looking at the stairs so she wouldn't stumble. "What the devil is going on here!" she said while still focusing on the stairs. As she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up, a flash of recognition crossed her face and the color immediately drained from it.
"Mistress Anastasia!" She dropped to her knees and bowed her head, with her forehead touching the cold Carrera marble floor.
"That's better," said Mistress Anastasia. "Now who is the insolent bitch that just had the pleasure of meeting the palm of my hand?"