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From: Zebbidiah Smith <zebulon@canadamail.de>
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Subject: {ASSM} Part 11 - The Training of Jeannie and Clair (MF, FF, Bd)
Date: Wed,  3 Jul 2002 22:10:04 -0400
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This is a work of fiction in 11 parts.  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.
          
Feedback is welcome.  Zebulon@canadamail.de

(MF, FF, Bond)

- - - - -

Part 11 - The Training of Jeannie and Clair
The concluding segment
by Zebulon

                      *   *   *   *   *

     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 family
portrait over the fire place.  The man in the picture had
bright red 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 red hair 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 daughter of a
local politico.  Of course, she and the family 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 brunette 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 men 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
girls 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 man 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 family 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 girl 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 blow job 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.

                      *   *   *   *   *

     Hours later the party was over and the associates
who weren't hopelessly drunk had left.  Those who were,
lay sleeping in guest rooms.  The staff and guards were
mostly asleep except for the night crew.

     Mr. Turgout was drinking sherry in his private study
with Mistress Jeannie and Rex.  Clair sat on the floor at
her Mistress's feet drinking champagne out of a crystal
glass.  She was wearing nothing but her Collar and leash. 
Rex had sent Susan to bed hours before.  Two guards stood
in the back of the room looking bored.

     A third guard entered and announced a Mr. Fetzler. 
The man reminded Clair of a reincarnated rat in only
semi-human form.  Turgout was quite happy to see him. 
Despite the great quantity he had drunk, he seemed
completely sober.  He finished off the drink in his glass
and, looking at Fetzler, said, "is everything in order?"

     Fetzler said nothing.  He just smiled showing a
mouth punctuated with gold teeth and jerked his head to
indicate the next room.

     "Mistress Jeannie," he said, "where would you like
to conduct the, . . . ah . . . interview."  He grinned
with depraved delight as he decided on the word
interview.

     Mistress Jeannie leaned down and whispered something
in Clair's ear.  Clair looked up at her and nodded.

     Mistress Jeannie then looked at Turgout and said "in
my chambers.  The large pink room overlooking the lake."

     Rex looked questioningly at her.  What was this?

     Without another word, Mistress Jeannie took Clair's
leash in hand and stood up.  Clair put her glass down on
a coffee table and stood as well.  Mistress Jeannie then
held her hand out to Rex.  "Won't you come with us; you
might enjoy this."

     Rex glanced at his watch, then yawned and stretched. 
Standing slowly he said, "well, for a while anyway."

     The three of them sauntered off while Turgout,
Fetzler, and the guards made other arrangements.

     "Well?" asked Rex, as they walked toward 'the pink
room.'

     Mistress Jeannie said, "While Turgout and I were
discussing things earlier, he mentioned another matter. 
It seems he was going to invest in a business venture
with a German businessman.  'Small potatoes,' he called
it--five million dollars.  He had given the man a quarter
of a million seed money when things fell through.  From
his explanation, I got the impression that the Turkish
government was as much to blame as anyone, but no
matter."

     They had reached Mistress Jeannie's quarter of the
Chateau, which did, in fact, take up almost a full
quarter.  She unhooked Clair's leash and let her lead. 
Then she continued, "the German was able to return only
about half of the seed money.  He'd used the rest.  But
Turgout wanted it all and the man just said he didn't
have it."  Mistress Jeannie paused considering.  "I get
the impression he didn't like the German's superior
attitude.  He told me three times during our little talk
something about the son of a bitch thinking that German's
were better than everybody else in the world, especially
Turks."

     They had reached a door and entered.  It was,
indeed, a large pink room--beautifully appointed.  In
addition to a lot of other furniture, there was a large
table against one wall and a medium sized steamer trunk
in a corner.  Rex recognized the steamer trunk as being a
common shipping medium of the Mart.  It probably held, he
thought, a great many bondage supplies.  Clair opened it. 
He was right.

     Mistress Jeannie continued, "at any rate, the snotty
German had an equally snotty, but beautiful daughter. 
And when he wouldn't pay up, Turgout waited until he had
returned to Germany and then had the daughter abducted. 
As far as the German knew the kidnaping was unconnected
with Turgout."

     Rex nodded.  Knowing what little he did about Mr.
Turgout's temperament and power, it certainly fit.

     Clair was moving the large table away from the wall
so that it would face the middle of the room.

     "The kidnaping was done by Turgout's people.  I
don't think the Mart had any part in it."

     Rex confirmed that, "I checked in when we first
arrived and wasn't told anything about, it so you're most
probably correct."

     "They collected a ransom, which was three times what
Turgout claimed he was owed, but the girl wasn't
returned.  Turgout said, the extra money was the recovery
costs, and not returning the girl was to pay for the
insult."

     Clair had turned the table and was now removing some
items from the trunk.

     "At first I thought he was telling me the story to
try to intimidate me with his power and resolve.  But it
turns out the girl is still alive.  They had kept her
alive to write letters or talk on the phone if necessary
while collecting the ransom.  He wants me to train her so
he can get his kicks abusing her.

     Rex nodded again.  "It sometimes goes with the turf. 
Are you going to do it?"

     The sounds of an approaching group interrupted her
answer.

     A few moments later they came through the door,
Turgout and Fetzler leading, two guards half carrying a
protesting girl behind them.  The girl was a honey blond
almost exactly Turgout's height, that is halfway between
Mistress Jeannie and Clair.  She had a very pleasant
northern European face and was on the slim side with slim
hips and a large breasts.  She was dressed in a blouse
and jeans but her feet were bare for some reason.  She
was gagged with what appeared to be something stuffed
into her mouth and held there with a tightly tied strip
of cloth.  Her wrists were cuffed behind her with
standard police hand cuffs.  She seemed more angry than
frightened.  In fact, the expression on her face reminded
Mistress Jeannie, more than anything, of Brenda.

     "A nice looking girl," Rex volunteered.

     Fetzler grinned and nodded in agreement.

     Mistress Jeannie noticed that the girl seemed to be
following their conversation.  That meant she understood
English.  It would make her job much easier.  She walked
over and removed the gag.

     Immediately, the girl spat out, "was ist?" with a heavy 
German accent.  "Who do you think you are, you filthy 
pigs?  When my father gets the authorities here . . ."

     Her words were cut off when Mistress Jeannie slapped
her with great force across the face.

     The girl looked back, hurt and startled, and then
started to say something else, but before she could get
the words out Mistress Jeannie clouted her again.  The
girl took a moment to recover and again opened her mouth
as if to speak when Mistress Jeannie raised her hand and
the girl shut up.

     Mistress Jeannie looked over at Rex and said only,
"yes."

     Rex smiled and Turgout asked, "yes what?"

     Rex answered, "a private joke--she was answering my
last question."

     Mr. Turgout shrugged it off and then sat down to
enjoy what was to come.  Fetzler seeing this did the
same.  Rex stood back and observed.

     Mistress Jeannie had the guards remove the cuffs. 
The girls wrists were red.  She then had Clair bring her
over and have her lay face up on the table.  The girl
resisted only slightly and didn't protest.

     Mistress Jeannie got some salve and after inspecting
the girls wrists treated them.  The girl said, "danke."

     Mistress Jeannie slapped her again.  "Speak only
when spoken to."

     She then motioned to Clair who came over with 
cloth-Velcro restraints.  The girl trembled as they were
attached to her raw wrists.  She pulled each arm up, over
her head and linked it to one of the table legs.  She
grabbed another restraint and headed for an ankle, but
Mistress Jeannie with a shake of her hand waived that
off.

     "What is your name, girl?"  she asked.

     "Anna."  Despite her heavy accent, she seemed to
have a fine command of English.

     "And how old are you, Anna?"

     "Achtzehn . . . uh, Eighteen."

     Mistress Jeannie reached down and grasped her shirt
and yanked it open.  Buttons went flying.  Anna jerked on
the table and kicked out with her feet.  Mistress Jeannie
calmly brought her elbow down hard on Anna's solar
plexus, knocking the breath out of her.  She lay there
gasping as Mistress Jeannie examined her.  She was
wearing a light pink, lace fringed bra.  Clair,
anticipating her Mistress's needs had brought a scalpel
over from the trunk.  Mistress Jeannie took the scalpel
and sliced the bra in the middle between the cups.  Then,
handing the blade back to Clair she reached over and
peeled back each cup to reveal two very round, very firm
breasts, each covered in tiny freckles.  The nipples were
very pink, the areolas were large and also pink.  Anna
was still gasping for breath, tears had run down her
cheeks and dampened the open collar of her shirt.

     Mistress Jeannie reached down and grabbed the young
girl's flesh.  As she started to work her nipple, Anna's
breathing changed to a series of short gasps.

     Mistress Jeannie changed her movements; the girl
crossed her legs and groaned.

     She tried another grip; the girl closed her eyes and
moaned as if overcome by a sexual rush.

     One last movement which included a twist and a tight
grip; Anna jerked upward and shrieked.

     Mistress Jeannie released the nipple and gently
rubbed her abused tit.  "Now you are going to cooperate
with me, aren't you?"

     Anna closed her eyes tightly and said, "Ja," in a
very meek voice.

     Mistress Jeannie slapped her tit with considerable
force and said, speak English and call me 'Mistress.'

     Anna didn't respond.

     Mistress Jeannie slapped her again, "well?"

     "Y . . . Yes, . . .M . . . Mistress."  Her tears
were flowing freely now.

     Another slap, "do you stutter?"

     More crying, "N . . .  No, Mistress."

     "Then cut it out, O.K.?"

     "Yes, Mistress."

     "Much better."

     Mistress Jeannie reached over and undid the girl's
pants belt, then the snap, then the zipper.

     "Lift, please."

     Anna looked at her imploringly.  Mistress Jeannie
reached for her other nipple.  Anna suddenly put her
weight on her heels and thrust her pelvis into the air.

     Mistress Jeannie let her hold that position until
Anna's legs started trembling with the effort.  Then she
motioned to Clair who stepped between her legs and pulled
the slacks and panties off.  Anna immediately dropped her
bottom and crossed her legs.

     Mistress Jeannie slapped her tit again and said, "I
didn't tell you to move."

     Anna wailed and quickly resumed her previous
position.

     Mistress Jeannie let her hold it.  First the
trembling in the legs started up again.  Then a sweat
broke out over her entire body.  The trembling became an
almost violent shaking.  Finally, her endurance failed
and her butt came crashing down against the table.

     She seemed to prepare herself for another slap, but
all Mistress Jeannie said was, "we'll certainly have to
work on your physical conditioning, won't we?"

     Anna relaxed.

     After a long moment Mistress Jeannie slapped her and
repeated, "won't we?"

     "Yes, Mistress."

     Rex was satisfied.  He yawned again and then excused
himself.

     As he started to leave, Mistress Jeannie took his
arm and asked in a low voice, "will I see you in the
morning?"

     He considered briefly and then answered, "we have to
get an early start to make our connections for the
cruise."

     "Clair," she said, "I'm going to leave for a few
minutes to speak with Rex.  "Please warm up our guest for
Mr. Turgout."

     As Rex and Mistress Jeannie left the room, Clair was
standing over Anna working her breasts and clit while hot
sweat begin appearing in patches on her skin.  By the
time they were in the hall, Anna's heavy breathing and
moaning could be heard through the closed door.

     They strolled down the hall toward the room he and
Susan were sharing.

     "What are you going to do now,"  Mistress Jeannie
asked with a vague feeling of loss and disappointment. 
She knew Master Rex could not stay with her forever, but
the actuality of his going was disconcerting.  She had
also hoped they might spend one last night together
before he left.  He had been the most commanding person
in her life--she might never again experience that
intense sexual thrill that his powerful presence provoked
in her.

     "Two weeks port-hopping with Susan," Rex was saying. 
"Then Tunis.  I think I've decided on my next project,
but it's a bitch and I want to speak with the owner
before I begin."

     "A bitch?" she asked.

     "Yeah," he elaborated with a grin, "the guy wants a
matching set of four submissives.  But get this, one
Oriental, one Indian, one Black, and one Scandinavian."

     Mistress Jeannie tried to imagine what four such
girls would look like standing naked together.  Then she
asked, "how do you 'match' four like that."

     "Aha!  That's why I've got to check with the man
behind the order.  I want to know more exactly what he's
got in mind."

     This sparked a question in Mistress Jeannie's mind. 
"Did you check with Turgout before working on . . ."

     She was interrupted by the sound of Rex's laughter. 
"Yes," he said, "and to anticipate your next question,
'no,' he didn't mention anything about physical abuse
during our meeting."

     Mistress Jeannie nodded to herself.

     "So will Susan be helping you on your next project?"

     They were standing outside his door by now so he
responded by giving his head a little shake in the
negative.

     She looked at him, arching her eyebrows and asked,
"how?"

     Speaking quietly he said, "there's an auction coming
up in Morocco.  I've already made arrangements."  And
then in response to her further questioning look, "I'll
tell her after the cruise."

     There was a long reflective pause on both sides.

     She looked up at him and said, "well, this is
goodbye then.  Will I ever see you again?"

     He shrugged, "could be, I've run into Andy a number
of times in the past dozen years."

     'Aha!,' she thought to herself, 'the name 'Dell' did
go back a decade.'

     There was a long thoughtful silence in which it
became clear there was nothing more to say.

     He leaned down and embraced her, giving her one
last, long passionate kiss.

     Then he stepped into his room and was gone.

                      *   *   *   *   *

     Upon returning to the pink room, Mistress Jeannie
found Anna squirming frantically on the table top.  Clair
was leaning over the bottom of the table between her
legs.  Her head, was buried in Anna's crotch.  She had
laid Anna's legs over her shoulders and was licking away. 
Anna's toes were splayed open as were her fingers.  Her
eyes were wide and she was panting furiously.  Her body
glistened.

     Fetzler looked hypnotized.  Turgout was grinning
widely and absently rubbing his own crotch.  Neither
seemed to have noticed Mistress Jeannie's return.

     She walked over to Anna and looked directly down
into her face.  She put her hand on the back of Clair's
head, who stopped and looked up.  Her Mistress said,
"thank you, Clair, that will be sufficient."  Clair had
been enjoying herself.  Anna tasted very nice and Clair
was enjoying the feel of this strange girl's responses to
her tongue.

     Anna was coming out of her sexual fog.  "That was
pleasure, "Mistress Jeannie said.  Then grabbed her
nipple and twisted, pinching hard.  Anna screamed.  "That
was pain."  She went back to sexually arousing the nipple
and asked, "now, are you ready to cooperate and do a good
job of sucking Mr. Turgout's prick?"

     Anna was crying, but nodded her head.  "Yes,
Mistress."

     Mistress Jeannie motioned to Clair who fetched a
collar and leash from the trunk.  She buckled the collar
around the girl's neck and attached the leash.  She undid
the hand restraints and had her sit up.  She removed the
shirt and what was left of the bra, which were both
soaked with sweat.  She had her hop down off of the
table.

     She walked her over to Mr. Turgout who stood,
grinning diabolically, as they approached.  His zipper
was already open, his dick poking out and throbbing.  As
they walked, Mistress Jeannie leaned over and hissed into
the girl's ear, "you'd better please him well, or this
night may not end for a long, long time."

     Mistress Jeannie handed him the leash.

     Taking it he grabbed the collar with one hand and
pulled Anna down to her knees.  "Now bitch," he said
slapping her sharply across the face, "let's see if you
are worthy the air that you breath."  He back handed her
across the other cheek and as her mouth had dropped open
crammed his prick between her lax lips.

     With tears running down her face and her body
shaking, Anna started licking and sucking on her
abductor's prick.  Turgout had closed his eyes and was
drinking in the pleasure of what was essentially a
victory over his mother.

     Mistress Jeannie watched her technique and thought,
'she's got a lot to learn.'

                      *   *   *   *   *

                          THE END  

                      *   *   *   *   *

- - - - -

--End of Part 11 - The Training of Jeannie and Clair - Zebulon - 
--End of Story. . .

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