MIREILLE Pt2
She was relieved but still hot and horny, when she was taken from the barred enclosure and taken back to the upstairs area by the captain.
What happened next both surprised and delighted her. Up to that point she had been subjected to almost unending sex, fulfilling her dreams of lust and submission. But now this masterful captain took her to a room with a bed, and with grace, and care made love to her until he had her moaning and bucking like an animal in heat.
He fucked her in the ass and allowed her to wash him and clean him so that he could fuck her pussy next.
It was thrilling and caused her to cling to him. She told him that he was so wonderful that she was sorry to be leaving in a few day's time. His response was to give her an address to be at the next morning at 9 AM. She readily agreed, even though his cock in her mouth kept her from actually responding.
"I will take you to your clothes now," he said to her, "but you owe me one more sign of submission for your previous attitude. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, excellency, I do understand." She said with her head bowed.
They went back to the guard area where she had been interrogated, when she first arrived. The same group of soldiers were there.
Their interest was certainly peaked, when Mireille arrived, since the captain had not allowed her to dress in anything but her panties, which were still damp from the cell in the basement.
"Kneel, French cunt," he said to her.
She complied immediately.
"Take out your object of adoration," he insisted next.
Again, she complied until his, now soft, prick was exposed.
"Open your slut mouth," he ordered.
Mireille did as she was told and prepared to give him the public blow job that would show his dominance in front of his men.
She was not prepared, however, for him to start pissing in her wide opened mouth. She groaned aloud and captured the pissing cock between her lips and drank all that he gave her to drink.
When the captain was finished, he waited for her to lick him clean and restore his prick to his pants. Turning on his heels, he ordered the soldiers to get her dressed and get her out of there.
Mireille was surprised by the fact that she actually came from the treatment that she had received, from holding in her mouth the captain's pissing cock. It was a truly powerful moment for her. She realized that she lusted for the next day.
Her trip to the address which the captain had given her was made easier the next day by a trip that her husband had to make for a few days, prior to their leaving the country for good.
She was restless that night, waking up at one point feeling the need to roll over and put her husband's cock in her mouth for a middle of the night blow job.
It was all that she could do to resist, for she wanted to save all of her energy for her meeting the next morning. She lay for a time in a sweat thinking of, reveling in the new view of herself as a hungry; hot, submissive slut that had been brought out within these past few weeks.
She dressed carefully, if also alluringly, the next morning. She wore a pleated white skirt a few inches above the knees, a white blouse, another pair of thigh high stockings and heeled sandals over a light set of beige panties and bra.
The bra was soft and transparent, as were the panties, showing to great advantage the dark, abundant triangle of her pussy hair.
She got a ride to the address that the captain had given her, arriving precisely on time.
The captain greeted her at the door: "Ah, my lovely French slut is here right on time."
"Yes, excellency," was her hurried reply, as she took his hand and kissed the back of it and, turning it over, kissed and licked the palm also.
"Very nice, very appropriate," was the casual reply of the captain. "But let me introduce my nephew," were his next words.
Mireille was surprised to see a teenager, looking on and grinning at the way that she had greeted his uncle. She was immediately embarrassed but tried not to show it.
"Nice stuff," was his immediate, and rather impudent, reply.
Mireille simply tried to ignore him, aside from nodding in his direction, and instinctively not letting go of the captain's hand.
She hoped that the captain would take her somewhere soon and demand of her special acts of submission.
But he didn't seem inclined to do that immediately.
"Lovely, deliciously lovely, don't you think, Basri?" The captain directed the question at his nephew who leered and agreed immediately. "But your friends have arrived, Basri, haven't they."
"Yes, uncle," the boy replied, never even trying to take his searching eyes off of Mireille, and, she knew, stripping her with those same dark, impudent eyes. "But may I ask them in to meet your special guest, uncle?"
He asked with great deference in his voice for his uncle.
"Yes, of course, I believe that they might enjoy that," was his uncle's reply.
The boy Basri went and returned with two other teens of a similar age. He indicated Mireille to them, referring to her as his uncle's French slut.
This made Mireille blush to her toes but it also had a, by now, familiar effect on her producing a heated response from her, and causing the beginning of a wet feeling from between her thighs.
The captain then turned to Mireille and said to her, "Look, I have to go on an important errand for the palace. It will not take me very long. Stay here. Basri and his friends will look after your comfort in the mean time."
There was not even a possibility of refusal on her part. The tone of voice made that abundantly clear.
Mireille cast a covert glance at Basri who was now leering at her openly.
"But," she thought, "he is only a boy. I certainly can control him."
Deep within she recognized that she was not completely sure about what she was thinking at all.
The captain left. Mireille and the boys sat for a few moments of silence. She had decided to leave and just not bother with this situation any longer, when Basri left the room for a moment.
He came back soon carrying a leather short riding crop. Mireille began to get up to go but Basri took that very moment as the time to lay the edge of his crop on her lap detaining her.
Before she could react, he asked her, with a smile: "What will you do, if I ask you if you are wearing panties today and what kind they are?"
There was a truly wicked smile on his face, when he said this.
Mireille sought for all of the indignation that she could muster in her answer: "I would slap your face and leave, reporting you later to your uncle."
To her great surprise and consternation, Basri used the riding crop to slap her sharply on the outside of her left thigh.
His response immediately was to say to her "No," using the same tone of voice as his uncle's.
He continued, never moving the riding crop from her lap. "What will you do, if I ask if you are wearing panties today and what kind they are?"
Without looking him directly in the eye, Mireille replied, with much less indignation: "I would leave and tell your uncle."
Basri was swift with the riding crop. He hit the same spot again on the outside of her thigh with greater force, causing her to jump.
His hit was accompanied by his even more imperious "No."
He stared at her, holding her gaze and said, as his friends giggled in the background: "What will you do, if I ask if you are wearing panties today and what kind they are?"
She hesitated, hoping that her body would stop betraying her with its secret message of submission to this violent boy and his friends.
Then she said simply: "I would leave."
His shouted "NO!" was louder this time and his use of the riding crop against the same spot on her thigh was truly cruel.
She moved her hand in the direction of her thigh to rub the spot but was stopped by hi command: "Don't move!"
Basri stared at her intently and with both cruelty and authority and asked: "What will you do, if I ask you if you are wearing panties today and what kind they are?"
She gave in, already breathing heavily, and replying: "I would say that I am wearing panties today. They are beige bikinis and are transparent."
Basri smiled at his friends: "Better, much better, French cunt."
He raised the crop to her lip as he said this, prompting her to kiss the crop. She complied.
"Now," he continued: "stand and bend from the waist, show us those beige panties; we need to know if you are a liar."
She hesitated long enough for Basri to use the crop on his favorite spot again.
And then Mireille found herself quickly on her feet in front of the boys with her back to them bending as if to pick something from the floor. It caused her skirt to ride up over her ample hips and ass, and showed the boys, who were all the while muttering dirty comments about her, about her panty covered ass.
She was rewarded for her display with a fierce slap from the riding crop on her barely covered ass. It straightened her up quickly.
She sat but Basri wasn't finished by a long shot: "Tell me, Frenchie, are you a cock sucker?"
Mireille shook her head "yes," which earned her another slap.
"Talk, slut!" was his command.
"Yes, sir, I am a cock sucker," was her quick reply this time.
"Remove your blouse and skirt and tell us about your life at the embassy."
Basri lifted the riding crop again just in case her response was not quick enough. But Mireille had learned by then.
She was up and stripped her blouse and skirt off immediately. She sat there in front of three boys, dressed only in her panties and bra, stockings and heels, and she talked about common place things.
She was so turned on by it that she was terribly wet.
In the midst of her talk, Basri simply said: "Bra," and she knew and complied by taking it off immediately, continuing her narrative, now almost totally naked at their demand.
"Stand up, walk," was Basri's next order and she did so immediately.
As she walked by him she was rewarded with a spank on her panty covered ass with the crop.
"Swing your ass, pig," he commanded and she began an exaggerated swing of her hips and ass for their entertainment.
She reluctantly admitted to herself that she was really getting into this.
Basri called her to him, as she passed back and forth across the room for their enjoyment. "So you are a cocksucker; is that what you say?"
By now she had learned from the increasing pain that the riding crop had given her; by now she knew how to act and how to talk: "Yes, excellency, I am a cocksucker. I'm pleased to tell you that."
She even smiled as she said it and gave her almost naked ass a special swish to emphasize her words.
"Good," he continued, "then come here."
He had her lipstick in his hands and grabbing her by the hair forced her to her knees in front of him. He used the bright red lipstick to write the word "Cocksucker" across her chest just above her breasts.
"You don't mind, Ms. Cocksucker, do you?"
By way of answer she took his palm and licked the surface of it with her tongue, ending the action by taking two of his fingers into her mouth and sucking on them. The two friends continued to giggle.
Her reverie was broken by Basri's order for her to ask the friends if she could please suck their cocks.
Mireille hastened to comply before the riding crop was used again.
She knelt before them and asked very politely if she might be able to give them each a blow job.
The giggling boys were only too happy to comply and she found herself on her knees sucking one and jerking off the other, switching her mouth from cock to cock.
Basri began to beat her on the ass with the riding crop to time the suck jobs. Both boys came rather quickly, filling her mouth and covering her face and hair with their cum.
It was then that the captain arrived. "I see that Basri has been taking care of you," he said with a big smile.
"Ah, yes," he said with a smile, "he has been decorating you also. Do you like your decoration?"
"Yes, sir," she said with her head bowed.
To her great relief, indeed, she was truly torn here. The two other boys were but fat buffoons.
Basri, however was different; he seemed to stir in her some base emotions that even with all that had been happening to her, she was unaware of.
To the intense dislike of Basri, the captain then took her with him to his room.
The captain went to the door of the next room and held it for Mirielle. She bent in hesitation to gather her discarded clothes until his peremptory order of 'Leave them!' stopped her.
She went into the room where he still held the door, half expecting him to do something. He didn't disappoint her. His slap to her nearly naked ass brought an immediate yelp from her involuntarily.
"On your hands and knees, French whore." was his order, and she obeyed, knowing that her panty covered ass was now on display.
"So," he commenced with her, as he walked around the obviously submissive Mirielle. "You were the entertainment."
"Excellency," she began in defense.
But he plunged on ignoring her. "I left you with my nephew and his young friends, dressed, sedate and willing to wait until I came back."
At this point she once again said: "Excellency..."
"I'm not finished," he growled fiercely.
She stopped. "I come back and you are dressed only in panties, heels and stockings like some kind of downtown corner slut, and you're kneeling and sucking the pricks of one of Basri's friends and jerking the other off. Is that all correct?"
"Yes, Excellency," she whispered.
And she waited, and, when he didn't say anything, she said in her own defense: "But, Excellency, they ... uh ... forced me."
He acted quickly, pulling her up to her knees by her hair. He immediately slapped her face and then backhanded her left naked tit. It caused the nipple to become erect and Mirielle blushed a deep red.
"Do not lie to me or I'll send you to make your way home now, dressed as you are with your tits, ass and cunt on display."
She lowered her head but had grown exceedingly red as he spoke, and the nipples on her bare tits hardened perceptibly.
He noticed. "But wait, wait, that thought turns you on or the sudden pain. Which is it, slut?"
Her still red face turned to him and she whispered: "Both, Excellency."
"Ah," he continued, "you like the idea of wandering these dark streets with your panties just barely hiding your pussy and ass and your tits free for all to see, as an offering to all. Is that it?"
And she admitted immediately to herself that such was indeed the case. The thought simply turned her on.
"Yes, Excellency," she continued with her hoarse, submissive whisper, "available for all, so many cocks, and especially in my mouth."
"What are you then?" he demanded.
She was quick to answer, and the answer filled her with a kind of lust that she had always associated with these words but only now started to live out. "A French, cocksucker."
"And in the other room?" he demanded further.
"Basri's French cocksucker, Excellency; he is so strong." She said this last wistfully.
"Of course he is, whore," was his immediate answer. "Tell me of the other room."
She proceeded to tell the tale of Basri asking about her panties and her indignant refusal.
The captain interrupted her then: "And did he hit you?"
"Yes, Excellency," was her reply, "just there."
She said pointing to the black and blue mark on her thigh above her stocking tops.
"Good," the captain chimed in then, "Women need to learn to obey by suffering."
"Yes, Excellency," she replied with her eyes turned down.
"Then," he said.
And she continued the tale of the repeated requests and refusals with the continued spanks on the thigh by Basti's quirt.
"Then I told him what he, what they wanted to know about my panties and bra. And he told me gradually to strip."
"Did you then?" the captain asked.
"Yes, Excellency, I was afraid not to."
"And he told you to suck off his friends?" he continued.
"Yes, Excellency," was her continuing simple reply.
He left her kneeling there and went to the door calling Basri, who entered with a smile.
"My friends are gone, Uncle," he said, "they wished to thank the French one for the blow job. I told them, of course, that no thanks were due, since it's what she does."
"Very right," said the captain. "Now help me to deal with her. First, take a belt to her lovely ass, and then fetch maybe three men so that she can wash them and suck their cocks, as a show for us."
Basri smiled as he removed the belt from his waist. "Head on the floor, ass in the air, cunt." he barked.
Mirielle hastened to do as she was told, not even trying to hide the pleasure it was giving her. Basri worked her shapely, panty covered ass over with the belt until she was sobbing and crying, begging them to stop.
"What do you want, French cunt, my cock or the belt?" he bellowed at her.
Mirielle struggled to answer because she had the captain's prick in her mouth. But she managed the word "cock!"
Basri went on with the beating, landing blows on both ass cheeks.
Again he hollered at her: "What do you want, French cunt, my cock or the belt?" Again the struggled word, amid sobs this time was "cock."
Still Basri belabored her up-turned ass.
Again he challenged her: "What do you want, French cunt, my cock or the belt?"
Now the captain was laughing at the novelty treatment that his nephew was meting out. He held Mirielle by the hair and plunged his cock in and out of her mouth enjoying the sensation of fucking this willing french mouth, this Ambassador's wife.
Mirielle tried a new tack and croaked the word: "Belt."
Basri let out an "aha" and, dropping the belt, and gabbing her hips plunged his cock into Mirielle, causing grunting sounds from her involuntarily.
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She was relieved but still hot and horny, when she was taken from the barred enclosure and taken back to the upstairs area by the captain.
What happened next both surprised and delighted her. Up to that point she had been subjected to almost unending sex, fulfilling her dreams of lust and submission. But now this masterful captain took her to a room with a bed, and with grace, and care made love to her until he had her moaning and bucking like an animal in heat.
He fucked her in the ass and allowed her to wash him and clean him so that he could fuck her pussy next.
It was thrilling and caused her to cling to him. She told him that he was so wonderful that she was sorry to be leaving in a few day's time. His response was to give her an address to be at the next morning at 9 AM. She readily agreed, even though his cock in her mouth kept her from actually responding.
"I will take you to your clothes now," he said to her, "but you owe me one more sign of submission for your previous attitude. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, excellency, I do understand." She said with her head bowed.
They went back to the guard area where she had been interrogated, when she first arrived. The same group of soldiers were there.
Their interest was certainly peaked, when Mireille arrived, since the captain had not allowed her to dress in anything but her panties, which were still damp from the cell in the basement.
"Kneel, French cunt," he said to her.
She complied immediately.
"Take out your object of adoration," he insisted next.
Again, she complied until his, now soft, prick was exposed.
"Open your slut mouth," he ordered.
Mireille did as she was told and prepared to give him the public blow job that would show his dominance in front of his men.
She was not prepared, however, for him to start pissing in her wide opened mouth. She groaned aloud and captured the pissing cock between her lips and drank all that he gave her to drink.
When the captain was finished, he waited for her to lick him clean and restore his prick to his pants. Turning on his heels, he ordered the soldiers to get her dressed and get her out of there.
Mireille was surprised by the fact that she actually came from the treatment that she had received, from holding in her mouth the captain's pissing cock. It was a truly powerful moment for her. She realized that she lusted for the next day.
Her trip to the address which the captain had given her was made easier the next day by a trip that her husband had to make for a few days, prior to their leaving the country for good.
She was restless that night, waking up at one point feeling the need to roll over and put her husband's cock in her mouth for a middle of the night blow job.
It was all that she could do to resist, for she wanted to save all of her energy for her meeting the next morning. She lay for a time in a sweat thinking of, reveling in the new view of herself as a hungry; hot, submissive slut that had been brought out within these past few weeks.
She dressed carefully, if also alluringly, the next morning. She wore a pleated white skirt a few inches above the knees, a white blouse, another pair of thigh high stockings and heeled sandals over a light set of beige panties and bra.
The bra was soft and transparent, as were the panties, showing to great advantage the dark, abundant triangle of her pussy hair.
She got a ride to the address that the captain had given her, arriving precisely on time.
The captain greeted her at the door: "Ah, my lovely French slut is here right on time."
"Yes, excellency," was her hurried reply, as she took his hand and kissed the back of it and, turning it over, kissed and licked the palm also.
"Very nice, very appropriate," was the casual reply of the captain. "But let me introduce my nephew," were his next words.
Mireille was surprised to see a teenager, looking on and grinning at the way that she had greeted his uncle. She was immediately embarrassed but tried not to show it.
"Nice stuff," was his immediate, and rather impudent, reply.
Mireille simply tried to ignore him, aside from nodding in his direction, and instinctively not letting go of the captain's hand.
She hoped that the captain would take her somewhere soon and demand of her special acts of submission.
But he didn't seem inclined to do that immediately.
"Lovely, deliciously lovely, don't you think, Basri?" The captain directed the question at his nephew who leered and agreed immediately. "But your friends have arrived, Basri, haven't they."
"Yes, uncle," the boy replied, never even trying to take his searching eyes off of Mireille, and, she knew, stripping her with those same dark, impudent eyes. "But may I ask them in to meet your special guest, uncle?"
He asked with great deference in his voice for his uncle.
"Yes, of course, I believe that they might enjoy that," was his uncle's reply.
The boy Basri went and returned with two other teens of a similar age. He indicated Mireille to them, referring to her as his uncle's French slut.
This made Mireille blush to her toes but it also had a, by now, familiar effect on her producing a heated response from her, and causing the beginning of a wet feeling from between her thighs.
The captain then turned to Mireille and said to her, "Look, I have to go on an important errand for the palace. It will not take me very long. Stay here. Basri and his friends will look after your comfort in the mean time."
There was not even a possibility of refusal on her part. The tone of voice made that abundantly clear.
Mireille cast a covert glance at Basri who was now leering at her openly.
"But," she thought, "he is only a boy. I certainly can control him."
Deep within she recognized that she was not completely sure about what she was thinking at all.
The captain left. Mireille and the boys sat for a few moments of silence. She had decided to leave and just not bother with this situation any longer, when Basri left the room for a moment.
He came back soon carrying a leather short riding crop. Mireille began to get up to go but Basri took that very moment as the time to lay the edge of his crop on her lap detaining her.
Before she could react, he asked her, with a smile: "What will you do, if I ask you if you are wearing panties today and what kind they are?"
There was a truly wicked smile on his face, when he said this.
Mireille sought for all of the indignation that she could muster in her answer: "I would slap your face and leave, reporting you later to your uncle."
To her great surprise and consternation, Basri used the riding crop to slap her sharply on the outside of her left thigh.
His response immediately was to say to her "No," using the same tone of voice as his uncle's.
He continued, never moving the riding crop from her lap. "What will you do, if I ask if you are wearing panties today and what kind they are?"
Without looking him directly in the eye, Mireille replied, with much less indignation: "I would leave and tell your uncle."
Basri was swift with the riding crop. He hit the same spot again on the outside of her thigh with greater force, causing her to jump.
His hit was accompanied by his even more imperious "No."
He stared at her, holding her gaze and said, as his friends giggled in the background: "What will you do, if I ask if you are wearing panties today and what kind they are?"
She hesitated, hoping that her body would stop betraying her with its secret message of submission to this violent boy and his friends.
Then she said simply: "I would leave."
His shouted "NO!" was louder this time and his use of the riding crop against the same spot on her thigh was truly cruel.
She moved her hand in the direction of her thigh to rub the spot but was stopped by hi command: "Don't move!"
Basri stared at her intently and with both cruelty and authority and asked: "What will you do, if I ask you if you are wearing panties today and what kind they are?"
She gave in, already breathing heavily, and replying: "I would say that I am wearing panties today. They are beige bikinis and are transparent."
Basri smiled at his friends: "Better, much better, French cunt."
He raised the crop to her lip as he said this, prompting her to kiss the crop. She complied.
"Now," he continued: "stand and bend from the waist, show us those beige panties; we need to know if you are a liar."
She hesitated long enough for Basri to use the crop on his favorite spot again.
And then Mireille found herself quickly on her feet in front of the boys with her back to them bending as if to pick something from the floor. It caused her skirt to ride up over her ample hips and ass, and showed the boys, who were all the while muttering dirty comments about her, about her panty covered ass.
She was rewarded for her display with a fierce slap from the riding crop on her barely covered ass. It straightened her up quickly.
She sat but Basri wasn't finished by a long shot: "Tell me, Frenchie, are you a cock sucker?"
Mireille shook her head "yes," which earned her another slap.
"Talk, slut!" was his command.
"Yes, sir, I am a cock sucker," was her quick reply this time.
"Remove your blouse and skirt and tell us about your life at the embassy."
Basri lifted the riding crop again just in case her response was not quick enough. But Mireille had learned by then.
She was up and stripped her blouse and skirt off immediately. She sat there in front of three boys, dressed only in her panties and bra, stockings and heels, and she talked about common place things.
She was so turned on by it that she was terribly wet.
In the midst of her talk, Basri simply said: "Bra," and she knew and complied by taking it off immediately, continuing her narrative, now almost totally naked at their demand.
"Stand up, walk," was Basri's next order and she did so immediately.
As she walked by him she was rewarded with a spank on her panty covered ass with the crop.
"Swing your ass, pig," he commanded and she began an exaggerated swing of her hips and ass for their entertainment.
She reluctantly admitted to herself that she was really getting into this.
Basri called her to him, as she passed back and forth across the room for their enjoyment. "So you are a cocksucker; is that what you say?"
By now she had learned from the increasing pain that the riding crop had given her; by now she knew how to act and how to talk: "Yes, excellency, I am a cocksucker. I'm pleased to tell you that."
She even smiled as she said it and gave her almost naked ass a special swish to emphasize her words.
"Good," he continued, "then come here."
He had her lipstick in his hands and grabbing her by the hair forced her to her knees in front of him. He used the bright red lipstick to write the word "Cocksucker" across her chest just above her breasts.
"You don't mind, Ms. Cocksucker, do you?"
By way of answer she took his palm and licked the surface of it with her tongue, ending the action by taking two of his fingers into her mouth and sucking on them. The two friends continued to giggle.
Her reverie was broken by Basri's order for her to ask the friends if she could please suck their cocks.
Mireille hastened to comply before the riding crop was used again.
She knelt before them and asked very politely if she might be able to give them each a blow job.
The giggling boys were only too happy to comply and she found herself on her knees sucking one and jerking off the other, switching her mouth from cock to cock.
Basri began to beat her on the ass with the riding crop to time the suck jobs. Both boys came rather quickly, filling her mouth and covering her face and hair with their cum.
It was then that the captain arrived. "I see that Basri has been taking care of you," he said with a big smile.
"Ah, yes," he said with a smile, "he has been decorating you also. Do you like your decoration?"
"Yes, sir," she said with her head bowed.
To her great relief, indeed, she was truly torn here. The two other boys were but fat buffoons.
Basri, however was different; he seemed to stir in her some base emotions that even with all that had been happening to her, she was unaware of.
To the intense dislike of Basri, the captain then took her with him to his room.
The captain went to the door of the next room and held it for Mirielle. She bent in hesitation to gather her discarded clothes until his peremptory order of 'Leave them!' stopped her.
She went into the room where he still held the door, half expecting him to do something. He didn't disappoint her. His slap to her nearly naked ass brought an immediate yelp from her involuntarily.
"On your hands and knees, French whore." was his order, and she obeyed, knowing that her panty covered ass was now on display.
"So," he commenced with her, as he walked around the obviously submissive Mirielle. "You were the entertainment."
"Excellency," she began in defense.
But he plunged on ignoring her. "I left you with my nephew and his young friends, dressed, sedate and willing to wait until I came back."
At this point she once again said: "Excellency..."
"I'm not finished," he growled fiercely.
She stopped. "I come back and you are dressed only in panties, heels and stockings like some kind of downtown corner slut, and you're kneeling and sucking the pricks of one of Basri's friends and jerking the other off. Is that all correct?"
"Yes, Excellency," she whispered.
And she waited, and, when he didn't say anything, she said in her own defense: "But, Excellency, they ... uh ... forced me."
He acted quickly, pulling her up to her knees by her hair. He immediately slapped her face and then backhanded her left naked tit. It caused the nipple to become erect and Mirielle blushed a deep red.
"Do not lie to me or I'll send you to make your way home now, dressed as you are with your tits, ass and cunt on display."
She lowered her head but had grown exceedingly red as he spoke, and the nipples on her bare tits hardened perceptibly.
He noticed. "But wait, wait, that thought turns you on or the sudden pain. Which is it, slut?"
Her still red face turned to him and she whispered: "Both, Excellency."
"Ah," he continued, "you like the idea of wandering these dark streets with your panties just barely hiding your pussy and ass and your tits free for all to see, as an offering to all. Is that it?"
And she admitted immediately to herself that such was indeed the case. The thought simply turned her on.
"Yes, Excellency," she continued with her hoarse, submissive whisper, "available for all, so many cocks, and especially in my mouth."
"What are you then?" he demanded.
She was quick to answer, and the answer filled her with a kind of lust that she had always associated with these words but only now started to live out. "A French, cocksucker."
"And in the other room?" he demanded further.
"Basri's French cocksucker, Excellency; he is so strong." She said this last wistfully.
"Of course he is, whore," was his immediate answer. "Tell me of the other room."
She proceeded to tell the tale of Basri asking about her panties and her indignant refusal.
The captain interrupted her then: "And did he hit you?"
"Yes, Excellency," was her reply, "just there."
She said pointing to the black and blue mark on her thigh above her stocking tops.
"Good," the captain chimed in then, "Women need to learn to obey by suffering."
"Yes, Excellency," she replied with her eyes turned down.
"Then," he said.
And she continued the tale of the repeated requests and refusals with the continued spanks on the thigh by Basti's quirt.
"Then I told him what he, what they wanted to know about my panties and bra. And he told me gradually to strip."
"Did you then?" the captain asked.
"Yes, Excellency, I was afraid not to."
"And he told you to suck off his friends?" he continued.
"Yes, Excellency," was her continuing simple reply.
He left her kneeling there and went to the door calling Basri, who entered with a smile.
"My friends are gone, Uncle," he said, "they wished to thank the French one for the blow job. I told them, of course, that no thanks were due, since it's what she does."
"Very right," said the captain. "Now help me to deal with her. First, take a belt to her lovely ass, and then fetch maybe three men so that she can wash them and suck their cocks, as a show for us."
Basri smiled as he removed the belt from his waist. "Head on the floor, ass in the air, cunt." he barked.
Mirielle hastened to do as she was told, not even trying to hide the pleasure it was giving her. Basri worked her shapely, panty covered ass over with the belt until she was sobbing and crying, begging them to stop.
"What do you want, French cunt, my cock or the belt?" he bellowed at her.
Mirielle struggled to answer because she had the captain's prick in her mouth. But she managed the word "cock!"
Basri went on with the beating, landing blows on both ass cheeks.
Again he hollered at her: "What do you want, French cunt, my cock or the belt?" Again the struggled word, amid sobs this time was "cock."
Still Basri belabored her up-turned ass.
Again he challenged her: "What do you want, French cunt, my cock or the belt?"
Now the captain was laughing at the novelty treatment that his nephew was meting out. He held Mirielle by the hair and plunged his cock in and out of her mouth enjoying the sensation of fucking this willing french mouth, this Ambassador's wife.
Mirielle tried a new tack and croaked the word: "Belt."
Basri let out an "aha" and, dropping the belt, and gabbing her hips plunged his cock into Mirielle, causing grunting sounds from her involuntarily.
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