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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