As had been promised, things did not improve for Malcolm upon their return to his home, now called Masoque Manor. The nephews have not yet arrived, but meanwhile there is no letup in discipline, either by word or deed.
Returned to the boudoir, the statuesque beauty’s eyes chilled haughtily, her strong chin hardened. “Fun and games are over, husband.” Her tall heel crashed. “Open that cabinet.” Malcolm’s knees weakened on seeing the ominous arsenal of straps, lashes, birch-rods, whips, cats, canes, crops and switches that hung within. “You see, lover,” Sada smirked, “I have the means to flog you unconscious – or just make you sparkle. There’ll be disciplining here, without letup, and you’ll learn that chastisement is the heart and soul of it.. You’ll be put to the most debasing drudgery; you’ll slave in any way that might amuse me…without word of protest. I begin your training as a lady’s maid in earnest now. Get me out of this dress – at once!” Her grey-gowned, scarlet-belted luscious figure undulated. Apprehension and servile closeness to the overbearing goddess made Malcolm fumble…and he took several training cuffs before Sada stood forth in the magnificence of black-corsetted deshabille.
Bedazzled by such Junoesque voluptuousness, he moaned “Oh… oh Lord, Sada, h-how can you be so beautiful…” and then winced when her fingers took his ear.
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