It was three days later that Cronos finally arranged for Polly and her companions to join him for dinner. Lucy had already warned them.
'Although Cronos looks mild-tempered, he must be obeyed without question and without hesitation. Any sign of disobedience and you will be thrashed ruthlessly. What is more, any sign of ingratitude will also be heavily punished.'
'Will we escape without any correction at all, then?' asked Marina, a note of disappointment in her voice.
'Not likely! But the correction will probably be for their own pleasure in domination. Hard, but not terrible. After last week, Polly, it will seem a pat on the back!'
The instructions were for Polly to wear a simple white tunic, her hair loose. Lucy and Marina were asked to put wide dog-collars, decorated with brass studs, round their necks. Each collar was attached to a leather lead. A flimsy pair of panties and an equally flimsy halter bra was all they wore. Lucy was expected to attach screw-type special ear-rings to her inner labia. They were simple rubber rings, about ten centimetres in diameter. They dangled between her thighs until tucked into the panties. When the time came, the severe-looking housekeeper escorted them to the dining room, Polly following, holding the other two by their leads.
The decor was luxurious, soft hidden lights reflecting from the pale ceiling, encrusted with an intricate interlacing moulding in gold and silver, with pale-blue bosses. The central chandelier in gold and crystal was elaborate, but unlit. To the right were large sliding glass windows leading onto a large conservatory, beyond which stretched a wide balcony, over-canopied with foliage and blossom. Amongst the shrubs and exotic plants in the conservatory was a small Greek band, playing soft romantic music.
To the left of the room, a dining area had been set up, with a low table covered by a white cloth and many different dishes. It was surrounded on three sides by cushions and divans. In the centre was a small dancing floor and, at the far end of it, a sitting area around a large coffee table having a shallow silver bowl filled with fruits of all kinds.
The men were standing in front of the divan as they entered. They were dressed in formal dinner suits with white tuxedos. Cronos stood in the middle. Polly immediately ran to sit at his feet whilst Lucy cringed and fawned at the feet of Pluto.
'First, let me introduce my nephew, Nestor. A young stallion of twenty years and already a wealthy shipping magnate, with a little help from his father.' Nestor was a tall, well-built man, with bright eyes, a mass of black curls and a ready smile. Marina looked at him with greedy eyes. Without hesitation she ran to him and bowed at his feet.
'Thank you master. Your bond servants and I are very pleased to fall at your feet and do your bidding this evening. My maid and Lucy's slave girl is Marina.'
'She seems to have found a new master already. Is she obedient? Is she trained?'
'Oh, yes, my lord. Marina is a devoted young bitch. No amount of beating will deter her from being faithful and true. She will do anything her master desires.'
'Good! We shall test that later. But first, for my guests, I have arranged for you all to watch the taming of the Greek shrew. It is a dramatic event set to the music of Zorba. He was the Greek master of the slaves.' He gave a signal to the small band.
The small band struck up the theme music of 'Zorba the Greek'. From out of the conservatory stormed a woman with generous curves, almost naked. Her raven hair was tied up with strings of pearls, with a pendant hanging over her forehead, with a solitary emerald dropped centrally over the bridge of her nose. She was swarthy skinned. Her body undulated to the rhythm of the music. The beads, suspended over her breasts, did nothing to hide the plentiful flesh, bursting to capacity, superbly supported by firm muscles, helped by a halter round her neck, crossing at the front and passing under each breast.
The almost black nipples were engorged and jutting, with a suggestion of milk on their extremities. Her rounded belly, with its deep cavity in which another emerald was embedded, undulated and swayed erotically. The minuscule modesty belt only served to accentuate the mass of black curls it tried, but failed, to obscure. Carefully shaved to remove any stray hairs, the profuse growth was shaped in an inverted pyramid, pointing down to the clitoral hood. With undulating arms, snaking around, swaying hips rolling the ample cheeks of her buttocks to and fro, she approached the company.
The men's attention was glued to her as she displayed her body in an obscene, though artistic manner. She knelt on the low table, knees splayed wide apart, arching her body backwards, supported by her arms behind her. All the curves of her seductive body were accentuated, her large, plump vulva yawning to reveal the generous lips of wrinkled flesh drooping from the orifice, their petals slightly parted.
The hood of her clitoris was pierced by a gold ring set with a large opal. Twisting to one side to retain her balance on the left arm, the dancer brought her other arm to between her thighs. She parted the lips with thumb and second finger. Her forefinger was clenched tight and placed under the clitoral hood where it began to stimulate the hard button beneath the ring. Her finger flickered rapidly on the sensitive part making the woman growl with excitement, deep in her throat.
At this point, from the conservatory came a tall, heavily-built, dark-skinned man carrying a leather crop strapped to his right wrist. He had no body hair at all. The head and groin were both hairless and smooth. He was completely naked, his semi-thickened penis swaying around obscenely. Muscles rippled on his arms, shoulders and chest. His buttocks were taut and firm, thighs muscular.
He strode to the woman dancer, gripped her right shoulder to swing her from the table. She looked at him with terror in her eyes, her body shrinking from him. He raised the whip as though to strike her. But she rolled away from him. He followed her. Catching her by the wrist, she was pulled to her feet and twisted round. A flick of his wrist was all that was required for the lash of the whip to curl round her hips, cutting into the plentiful flesh of her bottom. She spun round, contorting her body in pain.
The music grew in intensity as she threw her arms out to the man in supplication, but to no avail. The whip whisked through the air a second time, stinging her on the upper thighs. The woman recoiled, retreating from her torturer, watchful and tense. The man, dark skin now glistening with perspiration, stalked her full of menace, whip at the ready. Suddenly, the wrist flicked. A third lash caught her high on the cheeks. The slave shrieked in agony. The three weals could be seen in the soft flesh, crimson against the olive skin.
Shaking with fear, the voluptuous body crouched on the floor, curled into a tight ball. Muscles were tensed against the sting of the next, inevitable blow. It came. The hiss of the thong and the slap as it sank into the velvet-like skin. The body winced. Sobs accompanied the music, filling the room, but quickly stifled. The body kept shaking in its silence. During the short pause, waiting for the right musical cue, Zorba stood, legs apart, casually weighing the whip in his right hand. He stared maliciously at the defenceless woman in front of him.
