THE TRAINING OF JEANNIE AND CLAIR
by Zebulon
This is a work of fiction. No reference to real persons is
intended. It contains strong, non-traditional sexual imagery
and language. If you don't like this kind of thing, don't read
it.
This may be reposted anywhere as long as (1) proper
credit is given, (2) I am informed of where it is being
posted, and (3) I am allowed free access to the web site
where it is being posted.
Feedback is welcome. zebulon@fastmail.ca
(MF, FF, Bond)
* * * * * Start of Part 12 * * * * *
The next morning they all slept late. At lunch Rex
informed Jeannie and Clair that they were back on the footing. Jeannie was again Mistress Jeannie and was now
the official agent of the Mart stationed in the Chateau. She
would meet the owner that evening. She should prepare
Clair and be ready for formal introductions. She would find
everything she needed in her new suite of rooms within the
Chateau.
"You mean that whole set of rooms where we stayed last
night . . ."
"Are yours," Rex confirmed. "In fact, that whole wing of
the Chateau is yours."
Susan looked at him questioningly. "You are still my
wife, Susan, until we arrive at our final destination. But
first," he said removing two sets of tickets from his pocket,
"we are going on a nice long Mediterranean cruise
together."
Susan looked like she was about to orgasm over lunch.
Rex then said, "Mistress Jeannie."
"Yes, Master Rex?"
"Just Rex, You're home, but I'm still on the road."
"O.K., Rex."
"Why don't you have Clair and Susan go wash each
other up and do an inventory of your suites? That way
you'll know what's there and what you still need to ask for."
Mistress Jeannie looked at Rex and guessed that there
was something deeper to his suggestion, he wanted time
alone with her.
"Clair, Susan."
"Yes, Mistress?" they replied almost in unison.
"Go."
They went.
After they were out of earshot she said, "O.K., Rex.
What's on your mind."
"Just some last minute information and advice."
She waited and looked at him.
"Remember that history of the Mart, I had you
memorize?"
"Yeeaahh," she replied, suspecting he was about to let
her in on a deeper meaning.
"It was all nonsense, of course."
"I had wondered if that might be the case."
"Smart girl. All that's important are the dates--not the
years, just the months and days." He paused, watching her,
waiting to see if she'd make the connection.
"Phone numbers?"
"Exactly." He was quite pleased with her mental
quickness and how well she had turned out. "Every time
you remember a reference to Master Bland in the history it's
a new number. There are three buried in the story. The
first is in Switzerland, the second in Hong Kong, and the
third in Mexico. They are all toll free. In each case you will
be connected with an international book exchange--a cover
for the Mart. These are open lines so don't say anything.
Just order something, anything and leave your name, phone,
and location. They will ask for your customer number. Do
you remember Mistress Bluejay?"
"Yes."
"That's you. The numbers following her are your
customer number. Someone will get back in touch with
you. If it's a real emergency tell them it's a rush order.
Otherwise, you will be contacted regularly once a month or
so by an agent of the Mart, just to check in, to keep tabs on
you, to see if you need anything. You'll normally only use
those numbers because your owner wants to order some
additional goodies or services, but you might also need it if
an emergency should crop up."
"What kind of emergency?"
He smiled very broadly at her, "I don't know. That's
what makes them emergencies."
There was a long reflective pause on both sides.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"Just this," he said. "You didn't come up through the
normal channels. Don't let that bother or intimidate you.
Most of all, don't let it get in the way of your self-
confidence. You are the Mistress of this manor. You are
an agent of the Mart. We've talked before about what that
means. But once I leave, remember that everything you do
at the start will set precedents for your relationship with
your new owner and the rest of his associates." He left the
rest of the thought unexpressed--she was a smart and
would figure it out.
* * * * *
That evening Mistress Jeannie wore a stunning leather
pants suit which clung tightly and revealed every curve. She
had on three inch heels and carried the black riding crop that
Master Rex had given her. Clair was wearing the leather
headdress and bondage outfit identical to the one her
Mistress had dressed her in on that first morning long, long
ago. She felt vulnerable; she felt sexy. Rex and Susan were
dressed in formal evening wear.
The evening began in a large reception room of the
Chateau. The guests included a half-dozen associates.
They were working on appetizers and drinks, waiting for
the host to arrive when Mistress Jeannie noticed a portrait over the fire place. The in the had
bright hair--unusual for a Turk. He seemed to be of
middle height, taller than Mistress Jeannie, shorter than
Clair. She guessed that this was the owner and asked Rex
about it.
Speaking quietly he said, "Yes, that's Mr. Benjamin
Disraeli Turgout. The is from his mother, a tall
domineering English woman. Rumor has it they didn't get
along. The short, dark-haired women in the portrait is his
wife, a very quiet and pleasant of a local politico.
Of course, she and the live in the capital. I doubt she
even knows this place exists."
Staring at the picture, Mistress Jeannie said, "And he
special ordered a short dominatrix with a tall
redheaded slave."
"Yes, he did. Didn't he." Rex grinned down at her.
"His legitimate trading concerns form a multi-million dollar
empire. His illegitimate drug activities are worth hundreds
of millions."
Mistress Jeannie grew silent considering the implications
of what she had learned. Clair had stayed close to her ever
since they had entered the room. The looks of the watching her made her nervous.
Twenty minutes later Mr. Turgout arrived.
He walked briskly, talked briskly, did everything briskly.
He was delighted with Mistress Jeannie and Clair. The
dinner party was in their honor. He shook Rex's hand
warmly and told him how spectacular the two looked.
Then turning toward them, he said grinning, "Now let's see
how well they are trained."
He walked directly up to Clair, unzipping his fly and
removing a very large dick as he walked. There was
something in his manner which frightened Clair and
concerned Mistress Jeannie. He grabbed Clair's collar with
one hand and pulled down until she was on her knees before
him. "Now bitch . . .," he said with obvious glee and
suddenly slapped her across the face without warning. Clair
grunted within her gag and stared wildly up into the man's
eyes. ". . . now we are going to find out if you're as sexy as
you look."
At the slap, Mistress Jeannie shot a questioning glance at
Rex. His response was to shrug with his eyes and look
blank. This told her everything she needed to know. If he
had pursed his lips and given his head a little shake it would
have meant, 'Hands off--the owner can do whatever he
wants.' Had he opened his eyes wide and nodded toward
the scene, it would have meant, 'Get in there and do
something.'
He was leaving it up to her. He had even warned her
about early precedents. So as Mr. Turgout undid Clair's
gag and said something about, finally putting her whorish
mouth to good use. Mistress Jeannie positioned herself and
waited. She had the entire force of the Mart behind her and
for better or worse she was going to assert her authority
over this foul mouthed little and establish a proper
relationship.
Mr. Turgout, turned to his associates, who seemed to be
enjoying the show, and said, "Fabulous, simply fabulous--
everybody should have one." Then he turned back to the
frightened Clair and raised his hand to strike her again.
Suddenly, Mistress Jeannie's riding crop flashed out and
lashed him across his upraised hand.
Turgout, dropped Clair's collar, grabbed his injury, and
cried out in surprise and pain. Then he quickly turned on
Mistress Jeannie and yelled, "What the fuck is this."
She reached over and grabbed his tie as he had been
grabbing Clair's collar. Yanking him close, she held her
crop against his face. He wore the expression of a chastised
school boy. She said with quiet firmness, "You want to
discuss this here or in private? If you want to save face,
pull back and order me to follow you somewhere we can
talk."
Turgout did so. Then he trooped out of the room and
Mistress Jeannie followed with a demeanor which was
neither submissive nor defiant.
Once in his private office, he turned and started to say,
"Now what the fuck . . ."
But Mistress Jeannie slammed her crop against the top
of his desk and said with quiet fury, "You ordered a highly
trained Mistress and Slave, not a punching bag. If you want
a punching bag we will be happy to get one for you--
otherwise, behave yourself." And then reading the
conflicting emotions playing across his face she added, "If
you're thinking of doing anything stupid remember how
much you invested in us. And if that doesn't make a dent
remember that we are here as representatives of the Mart.
It is big, and powerful, and invisible. If you take any action
against us you and your entire will be dead so fast it
will make your head swim. You knew that was the deal
when you decided to do business with us. Am I completely
clear!"
Mr. Turgout's face and manner suddenly deflated.
Mistress Jeannie, having won her point, moved quickly
to repair the relationship. "I have absolutely no desire to
undermine your authority--we are here to serve you, each in
our own special way, and to make your life as delightful as
we can. If you want a to abuse, I'll be glad to train one
for you."
At that his face brightened. An evil look crept in as he
picked up the phone and dialed. "Fetzler?" And what
followed was a string of rapid Turkish.
Thirty minutes later they both returned. Turgout was
beaming and Mistress Jeannie looked like she was in quiet
control.
Rex nodded with approval and, taking Susan's hand,
headed into the dining room. "They'll be announcing dinner
quite shortly." A few moments later they did.
Dinner was long and excellent and it allowed Mistress
Jeannie the opportunity to establish eye contact with Rex.
Once the confrontation had broken out, she had fixed her
stare on Turgout's face. She hadn't gotten a chance to take
a measure of Rex's reaction. When she finally caught his
eye, he raised his glass to her and smiled warmly.
Following dinner Mr. Turgout climbed up on a table and
got his public from Clair. But this time without
the fireworks and under the direction of Mistress Jeannie.
After it was over he announced that it was the best he'd ever
had. It was.
* * * * * End of Part 12 * * * * *
THE TRAINING OF JEANNIE AND CLAIR
by Zebulon
This may be reposted anywhere as long as (1) proper
credit is given, (2) I am informed of where it is being
posted, and (3) I am allowed free access to the web site
where it is being posted.
* * * * *
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