CHATEAU DAMON I
- by Mr. Bushida
Unexpurgated novel available from www.pinkflamingo.com. Posted with permission of author and of pinkflamingo.
[The author marries the literature of extreme Western Pony Girl servitude with strict Japanese Nose Play and Nose Bondage.]
Excerpt 3 (of 4)
Mr. Bushida was mixing pleasure with business. He was ostensibly in France for the purpose of depositing six million French francs on behalf of the WWW (WorldWide White slavers), of which he was recently made Treasurer-General. The ‘bank’ was as unusual as was the origin of the funds.
Beth, in her smart tan suit, drove the two men into Paris, taking the Perriferique south to the Avenue Foch, around the Charles de Gaulle Etoile and finally to the Place Peri off the Boulevard Haussmann. It was a familiar drive and always a pleasant one for Joseph who had not yet grown blasé with his new surroundings. Mr. Bushida, however, was all business, clutching an expensive alligator briefcase that had seen too many years of service…
Beth stayed with the car as Joseph escorted Mr. Bushida down a small alley guarded by a tall gate for which both their keys were required. This was a seedy district of north Paris, which made it dangerous but allowed for such an institution to be built and to exist discreetly.
Thirty-five meters from the gate was a large oak door, which similarly required dual keys plus dual plastic card-swipes as well. The heavy door swung open effortlessly and they entered an oval marble foyer with a single, black-lacquered door at the apex. There was an unmistakable feeling of being observed.
It was hard to impress Joseph and Mr. Bushida with strange and luxurious places, yet there was a church-like sense of reverence in this lobby. Shortly, a very pretty lady entered the foyer, and directing her comments to Mr. Bushida, asked to be followed in perfect Japanese…
She escorted them into a small mahogany walled office, bid the old gentleman to take a seat, and offered the same to Joseph. "Please make yourself comfortable, Mr. Damon," she offered in perfect English, even with a slight American accent…
Just then they were joined by Madame Brosius, a stunning thirty-year old woman of some sort of European heritage but impossible to place due to her seemingly universal accent. She was all business and barely looked at the contents of the briefcase other than to see that it was full. She placed it in a large safe in the wall…
. "Would you like a peek at my new shipment on the way out?" she concluded elegantly, and led them down a bright hallway and into a room, or rather, a little prison.
There were half a dozen naked young women of all nationalities, all hung from hooks from the ceiling by their wrists, their feet a foot off the floor. And they were all extremely…incredibly pretty.
"I’m quite impressed, Madame, and I don’t remember any of them from my last visit!"
"Well, Mr. Bushida, our stock never lasts very long as you know! And we can thank your WWW for coming up with those three plump, Polish sisters there… pretty noses and sweet little arseholes I think… I thought you would approve!"
"Approve indeed. But alas, we must be off. My host here has quite an offering at home as well, as I’m sure you are aware. But I would impose on you to take a few moments and show Mr. Damon some of the training facilities on our way out."
A little further down the corridor they came to a door marked "PONY STRENGTHENING AND REHAB FACILITY". Inside was a square swimming pool similar to ones used to exercise lame thoroughbred horses. There was a spacious holding pen to the rear of the bright white room with what looked like a half dozen naked slave mares milling about, their wrists manacled behind their backs. Madame Brosius spoke to a small dark man seated in the corner reading a newspaper.
"Monsieur Rogers, would you show my guests how we use the piscine?"
The gentleman of indeterminate age, virtually a dwarf, reluctantly stood up and entered the barred pen. Seemingly randomly, he grabbed a beautiful forty-five year-old Dutch mare, linked a long slender leash to her nose ring and roughly dragged her out and tossed her in the pool with a huge splash. Without the benefit of her arms, she kicked her legs wildly to stay afloat until the man had her treading water with just the slightest aid of being held up by the nose ring, which he had now looped over a pulley hanging over the pool.
"Wonderful for the calves, gentlemen," Madame beamed as they left the struggling woman and headed out of the building.
Aunt Judy goes solo…
Joseph had desired a short sulky ride with his Auntie Judy in harness regardless of what she had already been through that day, the lateness of the hour and the very cold weather. It had turned gray and nasty out. William had parked the sulky on the inclining path beside the south stable’s door instead of taking her up to the house, making Judy struggle to keep the rig steady. It was William’s little prank to punish her for mocking him.
The usual clanking of her heavy tack seemed even more frantic on this frigid winter day as she worked to hold her ground while Joseph and Eli climbed on board and added their weight to the balancing problem.
With Eleanor at his side, Joseph rippled the reins hard as his Aunt Judy began to push off with her strong thighs to move the unbalanced sulky off the incline. Eli tried not to look but could not avert her eyes completely from the frightful sight of her stable-mate’s yawning backside, already dusted with frost.
But the first movement of the back-heavy rig was to roll half-a-wheels-worth backward. As Judith dug in her way too high heels, Joseph grabbed the whip from its sheaf and cracked it as hard as he could, and quite accurately, across her shoulders.
Eli shrieked in horror, just once, at Joseph’s brutality. ‘Surely most civilized people would not treat an animal so callously!’ she thought. But she stifled her sentiments and was thankful that her Master did not react to her insolent outburst as Judith managed to move the awful cart forward a few feet onto level ground…But Joseph Damon was not about to let the moment go… "Judith! Do you think I should have spared the whip on you, as obviously Miss Kolton believes!" he screamed.
The poor soul knew that her compliance with this young sadist’s demands to answer properly was to betray her friend and comrade. But his power to terrorize was irresistible.
"Oh, no, Master Joseph…" she fumbled, tears forming quickly in her eyes. "I deserve to be whipped."
Eleanor was sobbing into her hands, feeling guilty for having brought this sickening scene on Judith with her wanton scream. Her sense of naïve decency had betrayed a fellow slave-mare…and it was not the first time. And Joseph rarely failed to seize the moment.
Joseph summarily tossed his aunt’s head aside and stepped beside her proffered bottom. He ran his hand over the obscene, glassy expanse of wet woman flesh.
"Judy…I am going to spank you…not to punish you but to punish your friend here who seems to know better than you when you deserve or don’t deserve the whip!"
He placed his open hand on the top of her buttocks, highlighting… demonstrating for Eli’s wretched sake how small his hand was in comparison to the task at hand.
"Now look right here, Eleanor! If I wish to spank this big ass properly…say one hundred strokes, how many separate targets do you think I would require to do a thorough job?"
And he slid his hand to a new area, and then another.
"Oh…Master… please…it’s m… my fault…please sp… spank me…"she pleaded through her blubbering.
"I just might spank you both! Imagine ladies your age being spanked like babies out here in the open where I imagine the sound of it goes right over that stone wall for all those snooping Frenchmen to hear! But I suspect any such observers would envy my task!
But for now, I think spanking Aunt Judy is exactly what you, my sweet school teacher, need!"
[Pony girls enslaved to WWW members were measured in ‘hands’ much as horses are measured. But in human pony girl parlance, the number of hands referred indirectly to the size of the pony girl’s buttocks displayed for spanking in full, back-arched extension. More precisely, a mare’s proffered behind was measured in the number of her master’s hands required to spank the entire surface. This always amounted to odd-numbers, with ‘1’ to account for the small of the back just below the waist and above the chink-bone and ‘2’,‘3’, ‘4’, and even ‘5’ hands per cheek. Thus, the smallest young lady might have registered at 3-hands, the largest ‘draft-mare’ often requiring 11-hands for a thorough spanking (candidates larger than 11-hands were considered unfit for WWW duty). Joseph’s Sara was a 5-hander mare, both Eleanor and Beth were a large 7-handers, and Judith a 9-hander.]
Joseph began an extraordinarily severe spanking of his aunt’s backside…he paused just long enough to rub his hot hand over Judy’s cold and wet face for relief before returning to ‘finished her up’. It was the most painful spanking she could remember, and amongst the most capricious and humiliating….
(from Eleanor’s ‘secret’ diary’)
I came in a dismal third in my last Dressage event over in England, and I am beginning to wonder how long the Master will tolerate my failure. And yes, Diary, I do think of it as my failure since I cannot deny that if he took Beth along instead, that she would certainly win a blue ribbon for him.
Oh, by the way! Marilyn from the old Damon Ranch days was also a Dressage entry in Hereford. She was stabled right next to me, and apparently had been sold to this swarthy looking Middle-Eastern gentleman. I guess I have little to complain about with having that ponytail in my bottom during my routine after seeing poor Marilyn’s huge breasts bound so tightly that her nipples seemed a mile long! How horrid these men could be, and just to help them win some damned useless trophy!
So I guess I can’t complain about his efforts to ‘pretty me up’ before my performance, even though that includes his having to ‘put a shine on me’. He began doing this extra bit of preparation after my last ‘failure’ at Monte Carlo. He makes me stick my bottom out to its absolute maximum. If I don’t strain to do it with all my might, I’ll really feel his hand crack me across the back of my thigh.
After he washes my bottom very thoroughly with that special lanolin soap and pats it dry, he paddles me lightly - ‘just enough to pink-me-up a little’, he says. He follows that with the Dressage show-oil, which he works into every inch of my too big behind with his hands!
Well, Dearest Diary, I guess that really shines me up, but good! And if my stomach hadn’t been totally empty, I would have thrown up the first time he prepared me.
I can really feel how smooth I get; ‘glassy’ he calls it, by how his hands slip over me. If it helps me to do better, I guess I can endure it all, though it is, Dearest Diary, extremely humiliating. Yet, do I have the right to expect better treatment of myself than horses at a state fair? Truly, I don’t think any creature on this earth, even horses, should have to be ‘groomed’ for public display!
This morning, the Master made me sit beside him on the sulky while he tormented poor Judy with a vicious spanking, the worst I’ve seen him give her.
I don’t approve of even a parent spanking a mischievous child, let alone a young man spanking a mature woman!
And, Dear Diary, I fear that I was responsible when I stupidly cried out when he whipped her for letting the sulky slip on that dreadful hill! Oh, I’ve seen and experienced way too much of the female buttocks lately!
But I am determined to better next time in Dressage competition, no matter what it takes!
hh h h
You won’t believe it, but I stumbled in harness today and broke my ankle!
I was ‘turned out’ onto the gravely path as usual this morning for what I guess you’d call Joseph’s morning pleasure ride…
But it was particularly chilly and raw out. Diary, out in the countryside, I’ve even seen horses with blankets over them in weather like that! My young Master whipped me gently many times on the backside to encourage me to pull a little faster up the small hills at the back of the Chateau gardens, as. I felt a little weaker than usual. Sometimes, I guess I need to feel the whip a little to help me do things I don’t think I can do. After all, the consequences of not performing properly are much more severe than the sting of the sulky whip across my back.
Well, the stupid right high heel of those non-sensible high heels got stuck in a rut as I tried so, so hard to dig in and move quicker to please him. He had whipped me only ‘ceremoniously’ so far, and my frigid skin appreciated his patience.
Well, I almost turned us both over as I felt and even heard a bone crack in my right ankle. But thankfully, I kept enough of my balance so that I avoided turning the sulky over and having poor Joseph fall to the ground. It must have been quite a sight! But I knew I was through pulling for a while…
"Oh Diary, the pain was so sharp in my ankle that it made me dizzy as I tried my very best to obey my Master’s lead and pull the sulky forward. But I failed pitifully, and he stopped his efforts to encourage me and just looked into my sorry, reddened eyes. He kissed me on the tip of the nose and then gently on the lips. ‘I’ll call for help.’ was all he said, as he took his cell-phone from his pocket and made a call."
(Beth is summoned to replace Eleanor and Miss Kolton is laid across the sulky seat.)
"There was no room for Master Joseph to sit beside me so he had to walk beside as Beth slowly pulled me toward home. Thank god he didn’t need to spank her along the way as she kept a steady gait; her knees raised sharply as if to mock my awkwardness as I was sprawled out on the seat.
Diary, was this not the time to use the electric golf cart instead of human – female power? If she had not been so ready to step in, would he have not thought of a better solution? Yet I know deep down inside that it is my jealousy of Beth’s pretty face, long legs and younger years that makes such things so painful for me. I should be ashamed of myself for such thoughts and work harder on my exercises so such an accident is less likely in the future.
I have only myself to blame.
Once safely in the stables, Joseph lovingly cradled his wounded ex-school teacher in his arms and laid her on her back on the washing-table. Judy was already present, and carefully tended to the wound, washing and bandaging her ankle. A doctor would be needed later on to apply a splint and proper cast.
End excerpt 3