The Dutch Mistress Ch 02

The second chapter of The Dutch Mistress continues the story of my enslavement by the two friends Arianne de Vries, a Dutch businesswoman and her friend and lover, the beautiful young French brunette Sapphira Delatoise. The women aim to achieve a Total Power Exchange, by whatever means necessary...

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From the position in which I had been placed, balanced painfully on my knees on the hard stone pamments of the kitchen floor of Arianne de Vries' large Dutch colonial style house I surreptitiously regarded my two female captors. Having been told in no uncertain terms that direct eye contact was both inappropriate and forbidden for a male of such lowly status of houseboy slave I now watched them both only via the periphery of my vision. My head bowed meekly in submission and obeisance to my new owners I carefully avoided looking directly at either of them. A week's captivity had already taught me the rudiments of the domestic service to which I had been introduced. I still had much more to learn before my owners would be anything like satisfied, but the basic rules had soon become impressed upon me, reinforced by means of the whip and cane should I need to be reminded in the aftermath of any lapse that had occurred.

Seated on a stool, high above me to my right was the willowy and elegant, auburn bobbed Arianne, her skin tight black leather jeans, contrasting with her crisp white blouse, worn open necked and displaying her wonderfully prominent clavicles. The blouse was cinched tightly in at the waist by a wide saddle leather belt with triple buckles that served to give her neat, slim body an extremely sexy shape, something that did absolutely nothing to help with the situation of my poor cock locked away out of reach within the stainless steel concentric bands of the specially designed chastity cage into which it had been confined as part of my punishment. Arianne's long elegant legs in their gleaming leather stiletto heeled black laced boots were crossed as she sipped her morning coffee.

Opposite her sat Sapphira Delatoise. She also was dressed in a figure enhancing outfit of black leather, in this case a corsetted halter necked leotard decorated with pyramid shaped silver studs and tied with neat bows at either hip. The tight fitting bodice barely contained her magnificent full breasts and displayed her gorgeous long thighs encased in fine, sheer black nylon. She too wore gleaming black leather boots with long, tapered heels that served to boost her height to at least six feet. Her luxuriant long jet black hair was gathered into a ponytail that fell in a glossy cascade behind her, reaching to mid way down her back. Both women now oozed the kind of confidence, arrogance even, that comes from knowing that they are in total command of their situation, a command that is far beyond any form of challenge.

I now felt their stares bearing down hard upon my kneeling form, adding to the very substantial weight of the heavy slave irons into which my neck and all four limbs had been so recently been locked. Collar, manacles and fetters were all connected together by lengths of sturdy iron chain, substantial old fashioned links that had been forged long ago on the anvil of some country blacksmith in the vast fastness of rural France. From what Sapphira Delatoise had revealed to me of their provenance their manufacture had been intended for the exact purpose to which they were now being put, the subjugation of one human being by another. The stories I had read in my history books at school of people being taken from their homelands and transported by cruel slavers across the sea had now been carefully replicated two centuries later by these two beautiful women. I had become nothing more than that a human cargo, taken without consultation or consent to be exploited for whatever purposes they decreed fit.

I rested my forehead briefly on the cool floor to relieve the substantial weight of the collar, hinged and secured with a heavy iron pin and then locked firmly into place around my neck. The object of these slave irons was clearly to signify my total subservience to these beautiful women, but more than that, they would serve to restrict my movement in every way and by their relentless strain on my muscles remind me that my two mistresses were in complete and total command of my body, that it no longer belonged to me, but to them. I had absolutely no doubt that their intention was that this realisation of the state of my ownership should progress to my mind and permeate every aspect of my being.

I was being trained in very much the same manner as an animal would be, so that eventually I should react instinctively to their orders without thinking, to put their will and comfort before my own, something that would never come naturally to a somewhat carefree and irresponsible young single male such as myself. They knew that I needed to be broken if I was to become the subservient and docile being that they required for their purposes and it was their express intention to break me. I knew that in their pursuit of this goal they would adopt whatever tactics were deemed necessary to achieve their desired conclusion.

Of course I notionally had the option of resisting, that was at least in theory something that was open to me. Deep down though I think that all three of us knew that such a course of action was a totally unrealistic one. These two women possessed the wherewithal to break me easily should I choose that direction. My body would still serve them well in that case. It would be bound, beaten and tortured in a variety of ways until they achieved the abject capitulation that they desired, the ball was very much in my court. Vain youth of twenty one years as I was at this time I began to recognise that they held all the cards and I would pay dearly for any failure to satisfy them as my first weeks in captivity unfolded.

"He looks deliciously submissive don't you think Ms.Delatoise." The French woman slipped off her stool in response to this remark by Arianne de Vries and moved so that her booted feet were directly before my eyeline. I studied the elegant almond shaped toes of the boots, set apart on the floor in front of my face. I observed the way the fresh cream leather of the boot soles arched away steeply upwards in response to the curve of their long pointed stiletto heels, contrasting starkly with the polished black of the shafts. The kitchen lights reflected in mobile white pools from the surface of the highly polished black leather as she moved her feet slightly, the narrow point of one heel casually swivelling back and forth on the hard surface of the terra cotta pamment as she considered her friend's remark. She was savouring her power over me, enjoying her primacy over her male subject.

Eventually she spoke in reply. "Yes, I think that he could be trained to become very submissive indeed. All he needs is the correct amount and form of strict discipline and he will make a very fine slave. He will be invaluable in maintaining the property, as well as providing us with a great deal of enjoyment whenever we feel the necessity to remind him of his responsibilities. He is very nicely muscled isn't he? Such a fine sturdy body."

The French woman's voice was mellifluous and silky. I found her accented English delightfully sexy. I now felt the tip of her black leather riding crop as she casually traced the outline of my shoulder muscles. "Such broad, strong shoulders. He will be capable of taking a lash very well. I am certain of that." It was deeply humiliating being discussed in this manner, but of course this was probably the object of the exercise, it underlined both their power and my lack of it. Her talk was also strangely erotic and I once again found myself once more longing for sexual release, I was becoming desperate now as my penis sought full erection only to be rebuffed by the cruel constriction of it's unyielding prison.

Her friend laughed. "I'm not so sure of that Sapphira. Don't forget that I have witnessed some of your punishment whippings. I think that you might well turn him into a blubbering wreck with just a few strokes of your bullwhip. I might even be persuaded to let you loose with my sjambok if you promise not to kill the pathetic wretch with it." I was pretty sure that this conversation was being staged for my benefit. Nevertheless I still felt a sharp frisson of fear run through me. Being in a foreign country, even though I was no further from home than if I had gone to London for the day, had put an extra ingredient into an already complex situation. Nobody in the world knew of my whereabouts and, given my somewhat haphazard and peripatetic lifestyle, nobody was likely to ask any questions. I listened carefully to their discussion of me, I realised that I had extremely limited choices as to how this progressed, they would take me where they wanted.

Arianne got up from her seat and, taking a short leather leash, clipped it to the hasp on my collar. "I think that it's only really fair that we show him our special room don't you? Just to give him an idea of exactly what he might be in for." Sapphira smiled her agreement to this idea.

"Oh I'm sure that he will love it, it's just so cosy."

Something in the tone of her voice hinted that there was an element of sarcasm in this last remark. Arianne wrapped the loop of the leash around her gloved hand and gave it a firm tug. I followed behind her, crawling on my knees. Her stiletto heeled boots announced every step as they made contact with the floor. We left the kitchen and made our way along a parquat floored hallway that led towards the rear of the house. She stopped before a heavy oak door that barred the way at the far end. Sapphira turned the big iron key in the lock and the door swung open to reveal a set of stone steps leading down to a place that was to represent very different things to me when viewed from my perspective compared to that of my captors.

At the base of the steps I crawled inside the spacious subterranean chamber, feeling the coarse roughness of the red bricks of the floor beneath my knees. The floor was very old and somewhat uneven, the bricks set into a herringbone pattern, laid by someone two centuries earlier without any possible knowledge of how different this scene might look today compared to it's earlier innocence. The room had used the elevated position of the house to provide a lower floor, something that must have been tricky given the close proximity of the river.

My eyes accustomed themselves gradually to the lower level of light provided by the hooded bulbs set into metal wall sconces. The object that was now directly in front of me, bolted directly into the brickwork of the dungeon floor brought the potentially sinister nature of the place home to me. It was a short bench, no more than a metre in length and equipped with a single wide leather strap with which to secure it's victim tightly about the waist. At either end of the bench two legs diverged into a Y shape. Each angled extension had a pair of leather straps sufficiently sturdy to hold and restrain even the strongest limb, ensuring that any occupant of the bench would be unable to move an inch whatever the level of severity of any beating being administered. The purpose of showing me the dungeon was clearly to scare me, to make the training of their slave easier. Regarding the wall rack with it's collection of canes and whips as well as various leather accoutrements all neatly lined up and awaiting their turn to be used I felt that unconditional surrender was the only sensible choice. It was also the conclusion that they wished me to come to, ensuring my total submission and compliance.

It was only then that I saw the cell. Built into the brickwork of the wall it looked incredibly tiny, so much so that it took me a short space of time to appreciate just what it was. I am one metre eighty tall and the bare stone lined cube has dimensions of perhaps only two thirds of that. Merely to be confined within it would be a separate torture in it's own right. Sapphira saw me looking at it. "Oh he has spotted the Little Ease." The cell had an iron barred door that closes flush with the wall and locked with a heavy iron rod that slipped into place through a hole in a circular aperture of the door. She took the leash from Arianne and, standing directly before me so that I could admire the bulge of her pubic mound beneath the carapace of tight black leather that was her leotard, proceeded to inform me of the horrific incarcerations that were the purpose of this medieval device.

Designed towards the end of the sixteenth century and considered to be state of the art at that time in the world of torture, Little Ease ensured that the prisoner once locked inside the tiny cramped cell was unable to stand or to lie down. Instead his body was forced into an unnaturally restricted position. It was a position that with the passing of time ensured that the muscles and joints of it's pathetic occupant became subject to cramps and seizures that would be impossible for the tightly confined wretch to alleviate in any way. Condemned prisoners would be confined in such a manner prior to their execution, ensuring weeks, and in some cases months of misery before their dispatch came as a relief. I would discover in the weeks ahead that if some misdemeanour, either real or perceived, was detected in my behaviour a sentence of a spell in Little Ease would be something that I would come to fear even more than a caning, or even the fearsome sjambok. Those punishments whilst truly agonising were at least over quickly. The constant threat of the Little Ease cell would retain the ability to strike fear deep within me in a way that other punishments could not do.

"There, he has seen what we have in store for him, but I would like to see some benefit from him in terms of work." Sapphira flexed her wicked looking riding crop between her gloved hands. "The garden has become a bit untidy now that the trees are beginning to shed their leaves, I shall take him outside and set him to work."

Arianne nodded her approval to this idea. "I am sure that you will supervise his duties carefully Ms.Delatoise, keep me informed of his progress, the punishment book is here should you need to make any entries." She handed a black stiff covered notebook to Sapphira as she passed her the loop of the leash that was attached to my collar. "Please take good care of him, I am sure that this one will provide us with excellent service."

Outside a wide sweep of well manicured lawn surrounded the house, it was still not yet mid September and the weather was mild despite the grey overcast. I waited for Sapphira to release me from my irons, but she merely motioned towards a large grey wheeled bin in the corner of the patio. "Put the leaves in that, now get on with it boy." Her attitude was firm and businesslike. My movement was being severely hampered by the weight and cumbersome nature of the iron restraints but it seemed that she had decided to make me work in them. Every step involved considerable effort and stooping to pick anything up was extremely difficult with my wrists locked into the manacles which were in turn connected by heavy chains to my fettered ankles. Sapphira fetched herself another coffee and then sat in a chair on the patio and watched me work. By necessity of my restricted movement I was picking up one leaf at a time. The smirk on her lips told it's own story, she was fully aware of the impossibility of the task that she had set me. I moved slowly with pained shuffling steps in pursuit of each individual leaf. I felt like a squaddy on punishment fatigue, ordered to clean the parade ground with just a toothbrush. I was well aware that I was being set up to fail in my task, quite probably so that Sapphira would have an excuse for making the first entry in the black book.

The cloud cover began to break towards midday and the sun came out and despite the fact that I was working naked it became quite warm. Arianne set a patio table for the two women to have lunch and they sat together chatting and laughing as I continued to work, laboriously moving about the lawn, weighed down and restricted by my chains, my only succour a bowl of water put down for me by Arriane. Their laughter regularly bubbled through the still autumn air to where I worked. They were evidently enjoying their leisurely lunch. Eventually when they had finished they both walked across to where I was still collecting leaves. "Not a lot to show for a long morning's work is it?" Sapphira swept her riding crop across the expanse of verdant sward.

"It isn't is it?" Her companion replied. "I am quite surprised at how little work he has done, but it am sure that you will be applying corrective measures later to ensure that his future efforts have just a little more enthusiasm." Then she added. "If you feel that you need to use the sjambok to encourage that, then please feel free to do so." My face must have shown my dismay at this as she continued, "I think that we may have hit a nerve Sapphira, but nevertheless I think that you should administer a sharp lesson later to remind him that showing anything less than his total commitment to us isn't acceptable."

I worked for about another hour before Sapphira came across and informed me that my services were now needed in the kitchen. Once inside I was given a bucket and a mop and ordered to wash and clean the whole floor area. Again, chained and manacled this was no easy task. Eventually, laboriously I managed to complete the task allotted to me. The sound of the doors to the patio being opened caused me to look up, quickly averting my gaze from Sapphira Delatoise' features just as I had been instructed.

Horrified my eyes fell upon her boots. She had obviously walked through a muddy area of the garden, probably towards the river's edge where the green lawn became a soggy , muddy morass. For a moment she stood by the door before slowly and deliberately walking diagonally across the room, turning at the far end and walking back to where she had started. I looked in despair on the two lines of black footprints, their tracks extending across the tiled floor and back, their very presence an accusation of me having failed to complete my task.

Sapphira was joined by Arianne. Both women regarded me, looks of amusement playing upon their faces. The Dutch woman looked at the muddy trails across the floor. "I have to say that he doesn't seem to have done very well has he"? I desperately wanted to protest but knew that to do so would be seen as an insubordination and would almost certainly see Sapphira bring out the punishment book. She had perched herself on one of the breakfast stools, the dark mud clearly staining the previously pristine cream leather of her boot soles.

"I think that you had better clean my boots boy before they make any more mess." She tapped her left boot with the tip of her riding crop. I turned to look for a cloth with which to clean her boots. Her reprimand came immediately. "No, boy, you won't do it like that." She pointed again to the filthy sole. "You will use your tongue boy!" I hesitated for a second, still unsure whether to plead with her not to do this. Then with the awareness of the futility of such an action I sank to my knees before her contemplating the muddy sole. I moved towards it and felt the grit on my tongue, it seemed immediately to fill my mouth. It had no taste but it's texture made me gag a little.

My eyes ran up the length of her boot, taking in her superb black leather clad body. I began to work with my tongue on cleaning the cream leather back to it's previously pristine condition. Arianne looked on in admiration as I accepted the total domination of my mistress Sapphira Delatoise, a smile of total satisfaction on her face merely said. "Lick it all off my boots boy, every little bit of it."