NADINE
by Christian Simons
Translated from German Into English by: Anonymous And Christian Simons
Editor Of The English Translation: Mirabeau (Thank You!)
Chapter One
Wherein we become acquainted with a dutiful mother who,
concerned about the proper upbringing of her only daughter, visits an institute
whose philosophy of education might bring uneasiness to some readers' sensitive
minds
"My dear Madame Duchamps, you can trust us absolutely. My colleagues
and I have acquired an experience of many years in cases similar to your
daughter's. Our educational methods show an impressive success rate and all
young ladies and gentlemen in our custody leave our institute with a maximum
amount of character improvement."
Madame Dargaud's expression was benevolent . Evelyne Duchamps seemed to
be seriously worried about the future fate of her daughter. Nevertheless, she
was obviously strongly determined to entrust her Nadine to the care of Madame
Dargaud's 'Academy For Young Ladies And Gentlemen' for the coming eight months.
"Well, but I have learned, that character improvement isn't your only
educational objective."
Madame Dargaud smiled. "If you refer to the sexual component of our
schedule, I have certainly to confirm, that also in this regard we have
demanding requirements, which your daughter has to fulfil during her stay here."
Evelyne Duchamps stared uncomprehendingly at the woman on the other side
of the big, extravagantly ornamented desk. "You mean, she will ... she has to
... ?"
"Mais oui, Madame. In our house there is no separation between females
and males. And since the sexual drive is especially pronounced in the stage of
development of our pupils, it is necessary, besides the obligatory measures of
punishment the policy of our house, that we provide a strictly regulated program
of carnal encounters."
"And who ... who will ... ?" Madame Duchamps still hadn't managed to
regain her composure.
"Well, first there are her schoolmates, then of course the staff and
myself. And on certain occasions we allow some well chosen guests to
participate in our educational routine. By the way, as soon we are finished
with our delightful conversation, permit me to invite you to a small,
informative tour. Since you are the mother of one of our future pupils, it goes
without saying, that you are welcome to inspect the physical merits of our
youthful ladies and gentlemen."
Evelyne's features began to show a certain purple glow, which didn't
seem to disturb Madame Dargaud's professional calm.
"Let us now discuss some organizational matters. Your daughter will
report precisely at seven o'clock in the morning at our gate. We don't allow
any luggage or other private things. She is expected to hand over the clothes
she is wearing, immediately after her arrival. She will see them again the day
she leaves the institute."
"I see. She has to wear some sort of school uniform?"
Madame Dargaud produced her most enchanting smile.
"Not exactly, Madame Duchamps. We demand that our delinquents have to
be permanently undressed during the term of their sentences."
Evelyne seemed breathless.
"You mean, my Nadine will be completely naked for eight months?"
"Of course, Madame. Our students are required to learn a certain degree
of humility and therefore it is useful to rid them of their clothing as soon as
possible."
"But the young gentlemen ... they will see her in the nude ... "
"Correct. We expect your daughter in a similar manner to get used to
the view of her unclothed male schoolmates."
Again Evelyne was conscious that her features glowed in dark red
colours. She tried hastily to change the subject.
"Which kinds of punishments will my Nadine have to suffer? I have
already heard some rumours about your methods, but nobody I have talked with was
willing to be more specific."
Madame Dargaud leaned back in her arm-chair and examined the
good-looking middle-aged woman thoroughly. Obviously she was trying to assess
which doses of information would be tolerated. After a short silence she seemed
to have found the right words.
"First, I should assure you that it is absolutely not our intention to
inflict permanent physical damage, either to your daughter or her
fellow-sufferers. It is, however, our firm conviction that only very strict
punishments can guarantee the desired educational success. I mentioned earlier
that the permanent nudity of our youthful clients represents a valuable part of
our correction system. Another important element is that the boys' and girls'
freedom of movement be permanently restricted by a huge variety of bondage
methods.
"It would be far too complicated to explain to you all the possibilities
at our disposal to chain or tie up our pupils. We own an infinite assortment of
shackles, collars, leg irons and handcuffs, as well as a similar extensive
collection of ropes, cords and leather straps of different strengths. Very
often bondage is a very useful measure to fix the nude bodies of our delinquents
for certain punishments. Sometimes bondage is the punishment itself; for
example, when a body has to be forced in an especially uncomfortable position,
or when the victim is bound so strictly, that in the course of time the pain
grows steadily. Later on our tour I will demonstrate you some graphic examples
of these methods."
She studied quickly some pages of a thick notebook on her desk and
looked at the antique grandfather clock, which ticked quietly near the window.
"Ah, I see that in the present punishment cycle about one half of our
150 prisoners are scheduled for the 'torture chambers'."
She noticed the nervous look on Madame Duchamps' face. "Come, come!
You shouldn't be worried by the term 'torture chamber'. I have to admit that on
the first view the whips, racks, chains, pillories and similar furnishings in
these rooms do remind one of mediaval torture cellars, but I can assure you that
we use this equipment in a much more humane way than our barbaric ancestors did,
for example in the era of the inquisition. I always lay emphasis on the fact
that nobody ever left our institute with injuries that didn't heal after a few
weeks. And to anticipate the answer to your next question, our medical
precautions were always sufficient to prevent unwanted pregnancies."
It was almost impossible not to see Evelyne's relief under the thick
veil of her purple complexion. Madame Dargaud made a final gesture and rose
elegantly from her plush covered armchair.
"I suggest that we now begin the promised tour before you sign the
necessary documents that admit your daughter to our academy. You mentioned,
that she is seventeen years old?"
"Yes, in three months from now she will celebrate her eighteenth
birthday."
"Excellent. For reasons you will certainly understand, none of our
candidates should be younger than sixteen."
She took a small, gold painted bell from her desk and rang shortly. Not
two minutes later, the massive oak door of the office opened and Evelyne
Duchamps almost choked on the pastries, which Madame Dargaud had offered her
after the welcome. The young man who entered the room was no month older than
seventeen, perhaps even younger. He wore long, jet black hair and offered a
polite warm smile. Apart from that, he was completely naked. His wrists and
ankles were chained by heavy, ancient looking shackles and leg irons. The links
of the chain, which rattled between his bare feet, were only long enough to
allow him small, cautious steps. If this picture weren't enough to destroy
Evelyne's composure, one thing certainly extinguished her final rests of
'continence': the huge erection, that swayed between his legs.
Madame Dargaud, who didn't fail to notice that the mother had difficulty
fixing her view on the young man's face, took over the courtesies. "Madame
Duchamps, may I introduce you to Yves? Yves, please tell Madame Duchamps, how
long did you enjoy the hospitality of our institute."
"I have been a pupil of the 'Academy For Young Ladies And Gentlemen' for
six months and twelve days, mistress!"
The fact that she was addressed as 'mistress' was another piece in this
mosaic of sheer unbelievable madness for Evelyne. Madame Dargaud continued.
"As I see, Yves, you are not scheduled for a punishment cycle at the
moment. Please explain us your present duties!"
"During the last hour I was detailed to assist Madame Delors during the
torture of young Jasmine. But today it's my most important assignment to serve
you, Madame."
Evelyne suddenly suspected that he referred to something, that went far
beyond the usual duties of a servant.
"Yves, both our honoured guest, Madame Duchamps, and myself noticed that
your member is in a state of extreme excitement. Would you please tell us, who
or what is responsible for that obvious display of virility?"
If at this particular moment Evelyne had managed to take her eyes from
young Yves' muscular, naked body, her boundless indignation would have been
directed at Madame Dargaud.
"During the last hour I witnessed the writhing of Jasmine's nude,
suspended body under the cat-o'-nine tails. Madame Delors ordered me to
masturbate, so that I would be prepared to fuck Jasmine during her torture."
"Very nice. Now I wish that you accompany Madame Duchamps and me during
our guided tour through the Academy. I presume that we will have the
opportunity to inspect the torture chamber, where Jasmine is now tormented?
Then you can return to your duties there. And by the way, Yves, the expression
'fuck' is reserved for internal usage in our house only and shouldn't be
mentioned in the presence of our honoured guests."
"As you wish, Mistress!" Yves answered obediently.
While he was reporting the tortures of that poor unknown girl ,Jasmine,
his hard pulsating shaft seemed to grow steadily.
"And now, Yves, you will demonstrate to Madame Duchamps the nature of
your bondage."
Yves approached an imperceptibly shuddering Evelyne with small but sure
steps. When he stood directly in front of her, she was able to notice little
drops of sweat and fading red welts on his muscles. The musky scene, he
produced, seemed to have a stunning effect.
"Lift your arms!" ordered Madame Dargaud, and Yves obeyed, until the
chain between his wrists dangled directly before Evelyne's eyes.
"As you see, Madame Duchamps, even when they are not in a punishment
cycle, our pupils are still fettered with ropes or shackles on their limbs.
Today our friend Yves was put in particularly heavy chains, which on the one
hand allow him to fulfil his daily routine and on the other hand remind him
permanently on his captivity. Yves, please lie down on your back and stretch
your legs in the air, so that our guest can inspect the leg irons on your feet."
Yves complied and a moment later the soles of his bare feet were only
inches away from Evelyne's face. But she didn't pay attention to the shackles
that bound his legs. The fact that his soles were covered with bruises and
welts seemed even more remarkable.
"What happened to his feet?" she asked shyly.
"Answer, Yves!" ordered Madame Dargaud shortly.
"During my last punishment cycle twenty lashes were inflicted on the
soles of my feet. It wasn't until yesterday that I was able to walk safely
again."
"Which proves that our medical staff is as competent as our torturers,"
added Madame Dargaud proudly. "But you rather should focus your attention on
Yves' bondage, since your daughter will be chained in a similar way shortly
after her initial briefing."
"Don't you have lighter schackles and leg irons for the girls?" Evelyne
asked, concerned.
"Mais oui, and sometimes she will be restrained with those. But one of
our main rules says that there is no preferential treatment for either girls or
boys. Therefore Yves will take care that Nadine will receive fetters of similar
strength tomorrow."
Evelyne imagined Yves' heavy chains on the tender limbs of her daughter.
She shuddered. The headmistress changed the subject and ordered the young man
to rise from the floor. Evelyne's eyes were still fixed on the enormous
erection, which pointed provocatively towards her.
"I see that you are still not ready for our small tour, Madame. Your
concentration seems to be distracted by ... other things."
Madame Dargaud fitted splendidly in the role of the perfect hostess.
After a pensive moment she addressed Yves again. "Yves, do you see the hook at
the end of the chain, which is hanging behind you at the ceiling? Please lift
your arms again, until you are able to connect the middle link of your manacles
with that hook!"
The young man obeyed and seconds later his manacled hands hung limply a
few inches above his forehead. Madame Dargaud approached a crank, which was
unobtrusively installed near the curtain rails of the south window, and began
slowly to turn it. Yves' chain was lifted by a pulley, until he was forced to
stretch his arms vertically in the air. His toes were almost leaving the floor.
Now, his rock hard member was in the centre of attention more than ever before.
"Madame Duchamps, he is all yours."
Evelyne didn't have the faintest idea of what Madame Dargaud alluded to
and stared uncomprehendingly at her.
The headmistress of the academy smiled leniently and added: "You should
take off your clothes, Madame. I am sure, you don't wish to soil your expensive
costume, when our Yves comes to a climax."
"You don't suggest ...?" Evelyne asked indignantly. But another furtive
look on Yves' mighty organ made her resistance melt. "I shall only touch him.
That must be sufficient," she said, with a not very determined voice. "And I
can count on you, that nothing, what happens here, leaves this room? My husband
would kill me, if he knew ..."
"Discretion is a holy principle of our institute," Madame Dargaud
assured sympathetically. "May I assist you in removing your clothes?"
Evelyne shrugged with a vague gesture of approval and permitted the
matron to open the zipper on the back of her blouse. She lifted it with awkward
movements over her head and began nervously to fumble on the hook of her skirt.
Soon a bra, a corset, a slip and a pair of silk stockings were spread all over
the floor. Madame Dargaud realized that her guest was a woman who, despite her
41 years, was stunningly beautiful. Her breasts were round and firm; her slim
waist and her well shaped long legs didn't show any signs that she was the
mother of an almost adult daughter. The view of the nude Evelyne also caused
Yves to express his approval, which earned him a stern reprimand of his
mistress.
"I didn't authorize you to contribute your opinions, Yves. But, since
your comment was extremely gallant, I am going to dispense with a punishment
this time."
Evelyne barely noticed anything of this discussion and approached almost
under a hypnotic influence the stiff rod of the naked, chained boy. Her arm
moved mechanically; it seemed to be guided by the invisible strings of a
puppeteer. Finally, her fingertips touched the hard, throbbing thing. She
grabbed it, until she could feel its trembling and shaking with every fibre of
her palm. She shyly kissed his muscular chest and inhaled the sweat under his
armpits with deep breaths. A short look told her that his shackled hands were
now clenched to fists.
She turned her attention again towards the enormous rod. Small
pulsating veins had formed on its skin. She began to stroke it with slow and
steady sweeps of her hand and soon his hips began to gyrate in a rhythmical
dance. Soft moans came from his lips. Suddenly Evelyne had a vision of her
daughter, who sooner or later after her arrival would be introduced to that
young man and his marvellous organ.
Then her inner eye produced a picture of a unknown and faceless girl
called Jasmine, who at that very moment languished nude and chained in one of
the 'torture chambers', to be impaled by this spear. Her hand moved faster and
faster and the moment, she decided to throw away all inhibitions and to couple
with this boy, who could be her son, the throbbing mass in her palms exploded.
Silver white jets of apparently boiling hot semen covered her tummy and her
upper thighs. Yves nude body hung limply in his shackles and Evelyne began to
blame herself, that by acting like a young, inexperienced girl she had denied
herself the ultimate satisfaction.
Madame Dargaud, who had watched the scene like an invisible, discreet
witness in the background of her office, produced two soft towels. She gave one
of them to Evelyne. With the other she began to clean slowly Yves' still
helpless body. During this treatment his exhausted member regained some of its
earlier splendour. When all traces of his climax were erased, she turned again
the crank in the wall to let Yves' arms down. She released his shackles from
the hook, so that he could lower his aching shoulders.
Evelyne started to put on her silk stockings again, but she was stopped
by the headmistress. "I suggest that you postpone that until we have ended our
tour. I am sure that we will meet one of our young gentlemen on our way, who is
eager to finish, what Yves had just begun. We should allow him a minute's rest,
so that he can later fulfil his requirements in Jasmine's 'torture chamber'. I
can assure you that no one in this house will be offended by your nudity."
Madame Dargaud walked towards the door and asked Evelyne and Yves with a
short gesture to follow her. Avoiding Yves' eyes, Evelyne moved her nude body
with hesitating steps across the office. She was definitely not a prudish
woman; nevertheless, she was far from accustomed to be naked in the presence of
unknown people. She wondered how her daughter would cope with that during her
first days in the academy.
The main hall offered an excellent impression of the chateau's
spaciousness. It was extravagantly furnished, with a conglomeration of oriental
carpets, oil paintings, plush armchairs and indoor plants. The atmosphere was
more suitable for an estate of a wealthy nobleman than for a school or a prison.
In the centre of the hall broad marble stairs with an elegant banister led to
the upper floors. Evelyne headed towards these stairs, but she was stopped by
Madame Dargaud.
"You must forgive me, Madame Duchamps, but the floors upstairs are
reserved for my humble privacy and the staff quarters only. The facilities you
are certainly interested in are exclusively on the ground floor and in the
basement. Please follow me!"
They crossed the main hall and reached an ebony door, on which golden
letters informed the reader that a 'Classroom Number Three' was behind it.
Madame Dargaud knocked softly on the door frame, and they entered the room, as
soon as a loud and clear "Please, come in!" was heard from the inside.
Indeed, on the first view, it seemed like an ordinary classroom, which
could be found in every French boarding school; three seat rows with wooden
benches and writing desks, a huge slate, which almost covered the whole wall and
a teacher's desk, which dominated the room like a throne. The teacher was a
middle-aged man with an old-fashioned spectacle frame on his nose and
fastidiously combed hair. He quoted passages from an open book. An ordinary
classroom - except for the pupils. Evelyne counted fourteen girls and boys.
They pored over their books in a very stiff and cramped pose and obviously tried
to avoid even the slightest motions. All of them were completely naked. When
they noticed Madame Dargaud's entrance, they rose in a perfect choreography from
their benches and a loud rattling indicated, that their feet were shackled to
their desks. The teacher interrupted his lecture and focused his attention on
the visitors.
"Ah, Madame Dargaud, I see you brought us a new pupil."
He scrutinized the nude mother with the eyes of an expert and Evelyne
absurdly felt more flattered than ashamed. She knew that the maximum age of an
academy novice had to be twentyfive years.
"I am afraid, that your class has to do without our dear Madame
Duchamps, Monsieur Bresson," said the matron, correcting the gallant mistake of
the teacher. "Madame Duchamps is the mother of a young lady who will enjoy the
blessings of your pedagogical skills very soon. Her nudity is a result of some
practical reasons I don't wish to discuss now."
The fact that all eyes were immediately fixed on the nude and chained
figure of Yves, made it painfully conscious to Evelyne that no one in this room
had even the slightest doubts, of which nature these practical reasons' were.
Madame Dargaud continued, unimpressed.
"Monsieur Bresson, would you be so kind to acquaint our guest with the
subject of your lessons?"
"With pleasure, Madame! The goal of my educational efforts is to
introduce our young ladies and gentlemen to one of the most important poets of
the French tongue." He made a dramatic pause. "I am talking of no other than
the incomparable Donatien Alphonse Francois, Marquis de Sade."
Evelyne was aghast. In her whole life she had managed only few
encounters with that so-called 'poet'. As a young girl she had used the absence
of her father to try out a key, which fitted to a lock of a mysterious partition
of the parental library. The title of the book she had blindly and hastily
grabbed had not been really promising for a curious teenager: 'The 120 Days Of
Sodom'. 'Something religious,' she had thought, somewhat disappointed. But
then she remembered that she had spent one half of the following night with
horror about the reading habits of her father and the other half with furious
masturbation.
Monsieur Bresson continued his lecture. "Unfortunately, most schools
and universities practise the questionable politics to ignore that extraordinary
cultural asset of our 'Grande Nation' unpardonably. A tragic error, if you want
my humble opinion. Therefore it is a special merit of our academy that the
curriculum treats the works of Marquis de Sade with absolute priority."
He took the in pigskin-bound edition of 'Justine' from his desk and
caressed it, like a preacher might have done it with his most precious bible.
In a normal classroom such behaviour of a teacher would have caused inevitably
surreptitious mumbling and giggling. But the nude boys and girls, who stood
stiff like soldiers on their places, didn't even dare to move a muscle.
A stern, but understanding "Continue, Monsieur Le Professeur," spoken by
Madame Dargaud, finally caused the teacher to interrupt his display of
bibliophile tenderness.
Reluctantly he found his way back to reality and looked in Evelyne's
eyes. "Madame, if you are anxious that I shall bore your daughter with dry
analyses of the master's linguistic skills and grammar, then I'm able to dispel
your doubts. Thanks to the support of our venerable Madame Dargaud and her
untiring staff, I had the opportunity to organize an amateur theatre project.
Yes, I instruct my pupils to perform the most important and ingenious scenes
created by the Marquis. Then he raised his voice pompously. "These young
ladies and gentlemen are our actors, and the 'torture chambers' in the basement
are our stages."
He pointed at a slim, black haired girl with small, firm breasts and
slender hips, who was chained to one of the front desks.
"This is our 'Justine'. Her true name is Francoise. She has the honour
to embody one of the most enigmatic heroines created by the Marquis'
inexhaustible imagination in our small, humble performances."
He made an encouraging gesture towards Francoise (alias Justine) and the
girl addressed Evelyne. "Madame Duchamps, I ... we all would be honoured if you
would sacrifice some of your precious time to witness my martyrdom, which is
inspired by the ingenious concept of Marquis de Sade."
Monsieur Bresson's benevolent eyes certified the nude girl, that she had
spoken well. He turned his attention towards a shy, red haired girl. Although
she had wonderful voluptuous breasts, Evelyne's eyes were fixed immediately on
the thick, fire-red bush of her pubic hair. For some obscure reasons she was
immensely excited by this view.
"This is our 'Juliette', and the drollest thing is, she was christened
so right after her birth," the teacher brayed hysterically.
He obviously still found it hard to accept that a saucy accident of a
mischievous fate had led an incarnate Juliette into his pedagogical custody.
'Juliette' followed the example of 'Justine' and recited her well
rehearsed speech.
"Madame Duchamps, please be our guest the next time my nude body will
have to endure the same torments the unforgettable Marquis de Sade has created
for my namesake."
Evelyne, who knew the original 'Juliette', thanks to another nightly
excursion to her father's literary poison cabinet, was puzzled. She knew, that
this 'heroine' was more a cause than a victim of female anguish. But finally
she chose not to lecture this odd teacher before his own class. Monsieur
Bresson opened a drawer of his desk and handed over a cheaply bound double
edition of 'Justine' and 'Juliette', presumably the usual token of respect for
the guests of his classes. Evelyne promised solemnly to honour this jewel of
poetry for the rest of her days and left the classroom together with Madame
Dargaud and Yves.
Pensively, and a little bit amused, the mother wondered how much her
occasionally pert daughter would have to control herself to keep seriousness
during the lectures of this ridiculous keeper of the fine arts. Oddly, she had
felt no inhibitions at all to be nude in front of this living caricature. She
even slowly began to develop comfortable emotions in this particular atmosphere
and she had to admit that she really enjoyed the appreciative looks in the
classroom.
Madame Dargaud pointed perfunctorily at two other doors, which were also
marked as classrooms, and the women came to the agreement that an inspection of
these rooms would be a waste of time. They continued by having a look at a
extensive library and a huge dining hall, where the 150 pupils of the academy
assembled to have their regular meals. Since both rooms were not frequented by
anyone at that hour, they didn't spend more time than necessary in these parts
of the building.
When Madame Dargaud opened another door, Evelyne suffered a moment of
disorientation. Suddenly she was standing in the middle of a perfect replica of
the beauty parlour, which she used to visit regularly once a month on the Champs
Elysees. The mirrors, the wash basins, the hairdryers, the show cases, where
expensive perfumes and exotic cosmetics were displayed; everything was an
indistinguishable copy of the original 'Jean-Claude's Salon De Beaute'.
However, the three customers, who were busily served by hairdressers and
beauticians at the moment of Evelyne's entrance, would have caused a scandal in
the real 'Salon', which the Parisian tabloids could exploit for months.
There was certainly nothing unusual about a young man with a long mane,
who was getting a urgently needed haircut; if the fact could be ignored, that he
was completely naked and his wrists were tied with leather straps behind the
back-rest of his seat. A pedicure belonged also to the everyday routine of a
beauty parlour: But if the (of course nude) girl, who was getting that kind of
treatment, was suspended upside down by shackles in the middle of the room; the
chiropodist, who put on the nail varnish, had to learn from Michelangelo, who
certainly had used similar techniques to create his paintings on the ceiling of
the Sistine Chapel.
The scene however, that happened on the third dressing table, didn't
bear any resemblance to the usual activities in a decent beauty parlour. The
naked girl was about nineteen years old. She was tied to some sort of special
chair. Evelyne knew the model from her regular gynacological examinations. The
girl's legs were widely open and rested in rails, which were typical for that
kind of seat. There were little cranks on both sides of the rails, by which the
spreading of the shapely legs could be regulated.
Evelyne was always somewhat relieved when she was allowed to leave that
special seat after the doctor's treatment. The young beauty, however, she was
now introduced to didn't have such choices. In the height of her kneecaps she
was fettered with strong ropes on the leg rails. She had to stretch her arms
vertically in the air, because her manacled wrists were connected to a chain,
that dangled from the ceiling.
This kind of suspension offered such a marvellous sight that Evelyne
almost forgot to breathe. The hair under the naked girl's armpits was trimmed
to a stylish pattern that showed unmistakably the form and lines of a snail
shell. It was a masterpiece of asthetics and Evelyne began to envy the nude,
bound damsel despite her distress.
A middle-aged man squatted between her spread legs and seemed to be
performing a highly concentrated and very complicated activity. Evelyne guessed
immediately that he was the originator of the masterful ornamentation under the
girl's armpits. Unfortunately, her point of view was so inconvenient that she
wasn't able to see what the man was doing between the open legs.
Madame Dargaud, who also had enjoyed the scene with rapt silence,
remembered her hostess' duties and made the introductions.
"Madame Duchamps, may I introduce you to Jean-Claude, our 'coiffeur'.
We attach great importance to the necessity, that our pupils receive an
extensive beauty care. Nothing is too expensive for us ..."
Evelyne suffered another wave of shocked excitement. "THE Jean-Claude?"
"Mais oui, Madame! I presume that you are an avid customer of his main
shop on the Champs Elysees?"
Evelyne nodded, although during the many hours she had spent there she
never had a personal encounter with the 'maitre'. It seemed for obvious
reasons, that he preferred to practise his profession in this very special
branch. Jean-Claude, who was completely absorbed in his work, offered only a
short welcome and a disapproving glance at Evelyne's hairdo.
"Please come a little bit closer, so that you can observe the 'maitre'
at his work!" Madame Dargaud suggested.
Evelyne complied more than eagerly and became witness of something so
beautiful, that she almost fainted. Jean-Claude held a small pair of scissors
in his right hand. With that he worked carefully on the thick bush of the nude
girl's pubic hair. It would surely take some time, until this 'hair-do' was
finished, but it could already be recognized that on this special spot another
snail pattern was forming, similar to the one under her armpits.
With his left hand the famous hairdresser caressed absentmindedly the
clitoris of the spread girl, who rewarded these attentions with lustful moans.
When he was finally aware that one of the most faithful clients of his main
business was looking over his shoulders, he interrupted his efforts and turned
towards Evelyne.
"Madame Duchamps, n'est-ce pas? Did I understand correctly that you're
one of my regular customers? Then you certainly don't mind telling me which of
my overpaid butchers did inflict that scandal of a hairdo on you?"
Evelyne, who liked her hair precisely as it was, pretended to have
forgotten the name of the wrongdoer. She didn't want to be responsible for the
probable future unemployment of that poor man.
Jean-Claude shrugged with deep resentment. "You must know that it's
almost impossible to get a halfway competent staff nowadays. Watch only for a
while this dilettante, who is disfiguring young Jean-Luc now."
The hairdresser, who was busy taming the mane of the naked, tied boy
with comb and scissors, didn't deign to look at Jean-Claude. Obviously such
tirades of his employer were his daily bread.
"Shall I tell you, how this worm dishonoured his guild?" Jean-Claude
carried on. "Once, in a moment of weakness, I trusted him to do the work you
have now the privilege to watch me doing. A simple, elegant snail pattern, that
the lucky girl can show proudly her fellow inmates. And what does this shame of
our noble trade with poor Diane? He let slip his scissors exactly at the moment
when the unfortunate maiden has her orgasm. Now the pitiful teenager has to
bear a pattern, that looks more like a target than a snail. I'm sure that at
this very moment the barbarians down there in the 'torture chambers' throw darts
at her. Maurice, didn't I tell you a thousand times, that you must keep the
scissors at least one metre way, when an orgasm is near? Look!"
He started again to rub the clitoris of the nude, spread girl, this time
a little bit faster and more forcefully. Very soon she began to writhe in her
bonds and finally loud, long groans indicated, that she had climaxed.
"Voila!" he said accusingly to Maurice and pointed at his extended right
arm. "Here, scissors!" He pointed at the naked girl. "Here orgasm! How much
distance between scissors and orgasm?"
"At least one metre ..." Maurice had to admit, morosely.
"Isn't he a genius, Madame?" Jean-Claude sneered.
Madame Dargaud, who didn't seem really to enjoy the professional
discordances of her figaros, pushed Evelyne to continue the tour. The mother
followed reluctantly. If she had the choice, she would have spent the whole day
in this erotic variant of her beauty parlour. She certainly knew that Nadine
would fall in love at least with this part of the academy.
"I am impressed," Evelyne confessed when they paced again through the
endless hallways of the estate. "It must cost a fortune to employ someone like
Jean-Claude!"
Madame Dargaud smiled knowingly. "The construction and the equipment of
the beauty parlour was indeed an immense challenge for our budget. But the
'maitre' considers his tasks here purely as an honorary office."
"I see," Evelyne answered, grinningly.
"After you have got an impression of the ways in which we care for the
intellectual education and a satisfactory outward appearance of our pupils, I
will introduce you to another aspect of our philosophy. It is in some ways a
prerequisite that the efforts of Jean-Claude and his tormented colleagues make
sense. It is no use to employ the best hairdressers and beauticians if they are
confronted with bodies which are too lean or, what happens unfortunately more
often, too obese. Madame Duchamps, does your daughter go in for sports?"
"Nadine is one of the best gymnasts of her school," Evelyne announced
proudly. "She has already won two decorations for her exercises on the
asymmetric bars and the balance beam."
"Excellent! We approve when our novices have a certain educational
background in gymnastics. For example, our friend Yves has, if I recall
correctly, a predilection for the horizontal bar and the pommel horse?"
"Yes, Madame. I consider my training here as a preparation for possible
olympic competitions," the naked boy, whose rattling chains made a permanent
accompaniment during their tour, confirmed.
They stopped before broad, wooden door. Three large golden letters on
the panel indicated the purpose of the room behind: GYM. Madame Dargaud looked
at another grandfather's clock near the entrance.
"If I am not wrong, about twenty of our prisoners are attending the gym
class of our upright Mademoiselle Schuhmann at this hour."
She opened the door and motioned Evelyne and Yves to follow her. On the
first view, Evelyne thought that she had entered an ordinary gymnasium in an
ordinary school. The room extended as far as the area of a handball field and
had an appropriately high ceiling, from which rings and climbing ropes dangled.
The walls opposite to the huge windows were completely equipped with wall bars.
The floor was made of well polished linoleum, on which the contours of a court
were drawn. Everywhere the classic gymnastic apparatuses were installed.
Evelyne noticed a balancing beam, a pommel horse, parallel, asymmetric and
horizontal bars.
In the centre of the room a gross valkyrie with tracksuit and whistle
barked her commands. If Evelyne had been a little bit more enthusiastic about
sports, she might possibly have recognized the somewhat famous former shot
putter Ilsa Schuhmann (from East Germany). But even a fanatical supporter of
this discipline wouldn't have deigned to look at that decorated athlete in THIS
gymnasium. The 'gymnasts' and the 'exercises' they were performing had to
distract almost inevitably the viewers' attention from everything else. Evelyne
wasn't surprised anymore, that the boys and girls worked out in the nude and
that they all were restrained in some way or another with ropes or shackles.
(Although one might think that measures of that kind would rather hinder than
support athletic activities.) It was the exercises, that almost caused Evelyne
to faint, although after the previous stages of the guided tour she thought that
nothing could shock her anymore. She looked questioningly at Madame Dargaud,
who encouraged her with a nod to look around more intensely.
At first, she was almost magically attracted by the actions on the wall
bars and the rings. A boy and a girl, whose glistening naked bodies were bathed
in sweat, hung side by side on the wall bars. The wrists of both teenagers were
shackled with a short chain to the uppermost bar. They had no other choice than
to cling to that bar, unless they wanted to risk the thin bangles of their
manacles cutting the blood circulation of their wrists. The lower bars were
covered by some sort of plate to prevent their bare feet from getting a support.
Additionally, their ankles were fettered with shackles, but their chains were
not connected to the wall bars. Evelyne noticed that the leg irons of the boys
bore heavy chain links, while the girls' feet were only connected by a light
silver chain.
"A necessary privilege," Madame Dargaud explained. "We don't approve
when our female delinquents develop some less feminine muscles during their
exercises."
The 'exercise' she referred to seemed, despite the naked and chained
state of the gymnasts, quite unspectacular. At arm's length from the suspended
pair dangled two gymnastic rings, on which two other nude teenagers, again a boy
and a girl, were fixed. Their ankles were chained in the same way as for their
opposite fellow-sufferers on the wall bars. They also tried, futilely, to reach
the floor with their tiptoes. It was certainly no coincidence that the
arrangement caused all participants to look directly into the eyes of a gymnast
of the opposite sex.
The four naked bodies hung motionless in their fetters. Fraulein
Schuhmann, whose attention had been demanded so far by other gymnasts,
approached the small group with not really graceful steps. Evelyne was somewhat
ashamed that she immediately associated her outward appearance with the old
cliches of German women, made by war movies and Wagner operas. While Madame
Dargaud made the introductions, the mother was tempted to perform a military
salute.
"Madam Duschamm, haf heard zat you want, zat your brat must learn ze
ropes hier," Ilsa Schuhmann shouted in very broken French.
It was followed by an almost incomprehensible two-minute-lecture about
healthy spirits in healthy bodies. Under her stern look Evelyne for the first
time after the many distractions was conscious of her nudity again. She
secretly decided to take up her morning exercise routine again, which she had
somewhat neglected after Nadine's birth.
"Is hoppfully not a fatty, ze gal?"
Madame Dargaud answered instead of Evelyne and gave a report on Nadine's
gymnastic merits.
"Gut, not necessary to do zat dumb beginner lessons," the former athlete
boomed, satisfied.
"At least, not in your classes," Madame Dargaud answered ambiguously.
After mistreating Yves with a brutal blow on his shoulders and a "we
bosom buddies miet again tomorrow," Fraulein Schuhmann turned her attention
towards the four nude teenagers on the rings and on the wall-bars, who, hanging
in their bonds, had followed apathetically the conversation.
"Hawing a nap, ze four brats, eh? Time to wek up ze flabby bones!" She
guffawed dirtily to make everyone know, that her suggestive humour was purely
intentional. "Komm, Komm, you little dopes. On mei kommand, as alweis, first
ze lads twenty sekunds, then ze gals twenty sekunds. Auf die Platze ... givem a
gut fut-job!"
The 'lads' began almost at the same time to tighten their muscles and
moved their legs in a horizontal position, which took extreme efforts not only
because of the heavy chains on their ankles. Evelyne recognized immediately
that this exercise had not only a gymnastic effect. Both boys were suspended at
a convenient distance from the naked girls, so that they were able to touch the
vaginas of their partners with the toes of their lifted legs. While Fraulein
Schuhmann was counting to twenty, the boys' toes rubbed slowly the beauty lips
of their female opposites. Soon all four teenagers began to moan softly; the
'lads' because of strain, the 'gals' because of excitement.
But although Fraulein Schuhmann had stretched the twenty seconds
sadistically, the time was not sufficient to make the two young women climax.
After a short rest. in which all four bodies dangled exhausted in their chains,
the German gym teacher urged the fettered girls to do their part of the
exercise. While she started again to count slowly to twenty, the female
gymnasts made their efforts to stretch their slender legs horizontally, until
their chained bare feet were able to touch the genitals of their male opposites.
Their members, which were already in a half-erected condition, stiffened
immediately to rock hard spears, while they were masturbated by fettered girls'
feet.
Evelyne realized that it made much more sense to connect the ankles of
the young women with light chains. With heavy leg irons they impossibly had
succeeded in bearing the strain longer than ten seconds. But again, the time
was too short for the two boys to manage the redeeming ejaculation. Fraulein
Schuhmann, however, seemed to be strongly determined to let continue this
'exercise', until the four teenagers were driven to either utter exhaustion or
an orgasm.
The girl on the wall bars came after the fifth round. Her nude body
writhed frantically in her chains, while the big toes of the boy on the rings
rubbed undauntedly her Venus mound. This one had his turn after the sixth
round. The fountain of his semen reached almost the upper thighs of the girl,
who was working on him with her bare feet.
The boy on the wall bars relieved himself after the eighth round. And
when, finally, the girl on the rings had her climax during the eleventh round,
Fraulein Schuhmann was reasonable enough to allow the tortured quartet a well
earned rest. Evelyne had to admit that she was in a similar exhausted state by
sheer watching. Nevertheless, she was avid to have a closer look at the
'exercises', which were performed in other parts of the gymnasium.
There was a balancing beam, on which surface two artificial penises were
fixed. These impaled the vaginas of two naked young girls, who sat astride on
the beam. Both used their shackled hands to control their rhythmical motions on
the dildoes. Here also orgasms were close. Two boys had a similar duty to
perform; they 'rode' a pommel horse with convenient small holes on the surface.
Their hard rods thrust furiously into these very practical openings.
Another boy and a sensual ebony-skinned beauty were chained with their
wrists to parallel bars. Fraulein Schuhmann ("Givem a gut blow-job!") drove the
pair with a riding crop to lift their nude bodies alternately, so both male and
female genitals got their dosage of mouth, lips and tongue. The only gymnastic
apparatuses, which were used for conservative exercises, were the asymmetric
bars, on which a tall seventeen-year old girl performed a graceful routine not
hindered by her chained limbs, and a horizontal bar, on which a muscular young
man made his push-ups. It was only natural that he also was shackled on wrists
and ankles.
The fact that the whole room was now covered by a fog of sweat and
sperm, caused a little dizziness in Evelyne's head. The deafening voice of
Fraulein Schuhmann was another reason for a beginning headache. But for this
woman consideration seemed to be a foreign word.
"Na, Madam Duschamm, got lust to do somesing for ze helth?" She
scrutinized the mother's nude body with an impudent look. "Hav alreddy put on
our team leotard, eh?"
Only poor Yves was obliged to answer the questionable humour of the
former athlete with a polite smile.
"You must forgive our brave Mademoiselle Schuhmann her somewhat
bourgeoise style, Madame Duchamps,"Madame Dargaud admitted a little bit meekly,
after the trio had left the gymnasium. "But there couldn't be a gym teacher
more competent and useful for your daughter." She made a dramatic pause. "And
now you should see the heart of our institute, the 'torture chambers', or if you
prefer another term, the 'punishment rooms'."
Evelyne, whose migraine had aggravated despite her successful escape
from Fraulein Schuhmann's bloodcurdling organ of speech, turned her down. "I
have to confess that I am feeling not so well anymore." Her features showed a
painful grimace. "The only thing I want now is to sign the necessary papers as
soon as possible. Everything else I shall leave to your responsibility."
Madame Dargaud shrugged. "As you wish, Madame. But I regret that you
will miss the high spot of our tour. Besides, in my experience it seems useful
for a mother to prepare her daughter a little bit on their last evening
together. I am afraid that you still are not able to impart a sufficient
picture of our methods."
"I trust you and your colleagues completely. I am sure you will be
helpful to my daughter during her first days. I hope to continue this tour
another time," Evelyne answered weakly.
"Of course, Madame. But I insist,that we grant our Yves an opportunity
to say a appropriate good-bye to you."
To hell with her migraine. Evelyne's eyes went for the last time to the
crotch of the naked, chained boy, who silently had followed the two women back
to the office. During their visit of the gymnasium his erection had grown again
almost impertinently.
When, half an hour later, Evelyne Duchamps signed the treaty that
committed her daughter Nadine to Madame Dargaud's 'Academy For Young Ladies And
Gentlemen' for the next eight months, she was more exhausted and tired as ever.
But her headache had vanished ...
End Of Chapter One
to be continued
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