“Pleasure before pain.” That was what Alexandra had said as she slowly removed her dress. There was a knock on the door and the club’s owner, Maxine de Vraie entered to Alexandra’s command. Maxine, whom I knew although we did not acknowledge the fact, was accompanied by two naked women, both tall, and slender, one blonde, the other brunette.

“Balkans,” said Alexandra with a sneer. The Russians hate all the former satellites. In fact, most of us hate almost every other nation including the remote states of the old Union. It is part of our national psyche but one I do not share.

By now totally naked, Alexandra inspected the two women who were showing no signs of fear, rather an insolent indifference.

‘Thank you, Maxine, you may leave us.”

Alexandra had never taken her predatory eyes off the two women. She addressed the older of the two. “You know why you are here?” The woman nodded.

“You two will fight for our amusement. The winner will receive one thousand, American. She will also give the loser twenty-five strokes with the cane which hangs on the wall.” She pointed to it without looking at it. I had not noticed it until then. “Is that understood and accepted?”

Both girls nodded. “Say it!”

As one, the two women acknowledged it was understood and acceptable.

Alexandra turned to me. “Sit with me on the sofa. We will enjoy the spectacle of these two whores fighting to avoid the punishment. They are friends but Balkan friends are never to be trusted.”

Inwardly I groaned at her crass stupidity but I nodded in agreement. I had a part to play after all. We sat and Alexandra motioned for them to begin, her hand clutching my thigh through the silk of my dress.

The women circled each other warily. I had no idea whether they had fought before but they had the look of combatants. Their movements were lithe, their bodies well muscled. The blonde, slightly taller than the other, made a dart for the brunette who retreated not in fear but with caution and avoided her grasp. Then, as if to a signal, they fell upon each other. They grasped flesh and hair, twisting and grunting with exertion and pain.

‘Show no mercy.”

Alexandra, I could see from the corner of my eye, was squirming in her seat. Her thighs were pressed close together and her nipples were hard, like little rocks. The deep blue eyes glistened and her mouth was set in a grimace of pleasure. Her hand pulled my dress up and slithered between my legs.

The blonde made a sudden side step and wrong footed the other who stumbled. With a swing of her foot the blonde sliced her opponent’s feet from under her and she crashed to the floor, rolling to avoid a stamping foot. Alexandra made a sort of moan. The blonde stepped back and the brunette saw her opportunity. She started to leap to her feet but another kick, this to her chest, threw her back, winded to the floor. The blonde fell on her, winding her further and clutched a handful of hair, twisting it viciously. The brunette was not finished, no matter how much it seemed she might be. She twisted beneath her assailant and drew her knees to her chest, pushing violently away and catching the other, hurling her backwards. Then they were both on their feet again and the circling resumed. Sweat was running down their bodies, their hair streaked with wet.

Alexandra turned momentarily to me and smiled. “Is it not amusing?’

I nodded, trying to seem as aroused as she was. Fortunately the ministrations of her hand between my thighs was helping. Idly she toyed with the rings she had screwed to my lips.

The brunette suddenly launched an offensive. Pushing herself from the wall she took the blonde totally by surprise and floored her, falling upon her and sinking her teeth into her neck.

Alexandra was breathless now, as if she too were fighting. The girls’ attention was focused solely on victory and her words made no impression. They writhed on the floor, legs squeezing, fingers grasping. Then, suddenly, the blonde seemed almost to levitate, her back arched and the two bodies turned as one to bring the brunette face down beneath her opponent. The coup de grace was the blonde lifting herself bodily then crashing down, her knees in the small of the other’s back and driving all the breath and resistance from her. Victory was assured. Panting, she lay across her victim’s back then raised her eyes to Alexandra.

The hand between my legs was removed.

Alexandra made a small clap and said to me, “Pour champagne. I will enjoy the next stage as well as the last, perhaps more.”

I handed her a glass and she took a long draught from it as the two women recovered. The blonde dismounted and, grasping the other by her hair pulled her up. Alexandra spread her legs.

“Position her here, her mouth here.” She pointed to her pussy. The brunette, kneeling before her had her face pushed to Alexandra’s core, her arse raised.

“Get the cane, Jelena and remove your dress.”

I handed the cane to the blonde woman, removed my dress and sat again beside Alexandra, who pulled me so that I was astride her waist, the brunette woman’s head beneath me. She kissed me voraciously and I heard the first of the twenty-five strokes make contact. The head beneath me bucked and a muffled moan drove into Alexandra who echoed it into my mouth. Each relentless stroke brought a louder scream form beneath me and seemed to lift Alexandra further into ecstasy. Her finger curled into me between our bodies as her tongue savaged my mouth, her free hand around my back, raking my skin with her nails. I could not count the strokes but I felt each as the victim screamed into Alexandra’s cunt. Her orgasm came with a bellow like a stag at the rut. It was a whole body experience, nails tightening, back arching, neck extending. She almost threw me off in her frenzy but I gripped the back of the sofa and stayed across her, feeling the hair of the woman beneath us, wet beneath me. I heard her quiet sobs.

The aftermath was calm, the poor brunette’s sobs a quiet counterpoint to Alexandra’s labored breathing as she recovered.

We disentangled and I sat beside her. The brunette’s arse was bruised and her skin twitched. She lifted herself to her knees and stood shakily. The blonde was panting from her exertions but had the glint of success in her eyes. Alexandra stood and took the blonde aside, her mouth close to her ear and she whispered something to her.

“She maybe a worthless Balkan but she knows the value of money. She has agreed, for five hundred US to accept 10 strokes of the whip from her friend and she will eat you as her friend ate me. Do you approve, Jelena?”

What could I say? I arranged myself as Alexandra had, leaning deep into the embrace of the sofa, legs wide and those earrings glinting in the light. The blonde hesitantly knelt between my legs, her hair falling over my thighs. The brunette stood and Alexandra went to a cupboard and selected a long, thin single tail. She stroked the phallic handle between her thighs, then between the brunette’s thighs, stroking it obscenely between her lips. She placed the wet handle in the woman’s hand and stood back, picking up a glass of champagne.

‘Begin.”

The tongue that worked between my lips was expert. For several moments it worked at me, opening me, stroking between my lips then her lips sucked on my now extended clitoris. I gripped the cushions of the sofa and allowed the pleasure to run over me, my eyes half closed. I was unprepared for the crack of the whip as was the blonde. Her body jolted and a scream came from her mouth and into me. Startled I opened my eyes to see Alexandra leaning against the wall, her hand between her legs, her eyes locked on mine. I forced myself to give a smile that indicated enormous pleasure and the second stroke followed, the woman screaming again but burying her face into me. Like the cane before it, the whip mercilessly kissed the woman’s flesh and her tears wetted my thighs as her cries pushed into me like a physical presence. I kept my eyes locked on Alexandra’s, counting the strokes of the whip until the ninth when I feigned the beginning of an orgasm. I lifted my hips, closed my eyes and threw my head back. I am not sure now if it was an act or if I genuinely experienced an orgasm. I let out a deep moan and arched my back, pushing my hips up to the blonde’s mouth and my back deep into the cushions. My breath came in spasms, matching those of the blonde who sobbed between my thighs.

Alexandra pulled a bell rope and moments later Maxine appeared. Her face did not reveal her thoughts as she surveyed the scene of the two women who now stood together holding hands in a sort of sympathy for each other.

“Take them away and bring us more champagne.”

Maxine nodded and led the women away. Alexandra handed me a glass and raised hers to me. I drank gratefully. A few moments later, the door opened and Maxine placed an ice bucket and fresh glasses on the table before leaving us. Alexandra came to stand in front of me and reached down to cup my pussy. She leaned into kiss my mouth and swallowed my screams as she ripped first one, then the other ring from my labia. I forced myself to smile into her eyes.

“Thank you.” This made her smile seem real and she kissed me again, passionately and for a long time. Her hands ran over me tenderly and soon we were folded in an embrace on the sofa. She broke away.

“I can see you are a genuine devotee, my dear Jelena. Perhaps we will become close friends. But first, I wish to see if you are the sort of woman I need. Pour more wine.”

I stood and went to the table, poured two fresh glasses the carried them to the sofa.

*

Two days later I was sitting in a dingy café in an ethnic Arab quarter of the city. Maxine de Vraie entered dressed much as I was in jeans, white shirt and dark glasses, her blonde hair concealed under a knitted cap. She sat beside me.

“She has been making enquiries about you.”

“Of course she has. She will discover only what I want her to. You have done well, Maxine.”

I had discovered Maxine when I first came to Paris. Her father had been a dissident who had escaped the Union and fled to Paris where he taught philosophy. He married a French woman and I had found Maxine running her fetish brothel for the wealthy women like Alexandra who craved more than simple sexual gratification. Maxine was, in her way, as ruthless as Alexandra but she had a dark secret that had involved the death of one of her whores and the subsequent disposal of the body. This had been the lever I had used to prise confidences from her. That and the threat that I would harm her if she turned against me. In fact we had become secret lovers and I had promised her that one day, when my aims were achieved, she would share some of my life.

“She asked me if I could arrange for you to meet again.”

My arse was still very sore from the caning Alexandra had administered and which had led to another sadistic orgasm for her. I had taken the beating, blindfold and tied across a stool. When she finished she had taken me to bed and cradled me against her breasts and slept like a baby. I knew that one day she would pay for this.

“Tell her you think you can arrange for us to meet. Tell her that one of your other clients may know how to find me and that you will do all you can. We will let her sweat for a few days. Apart from anything else, I have some bruises to lose.” Maxine smiled sympathetically. “I will call you when I am ready.” We drank our coffee and parted as friends do, an air kiss on the cheek, nothing to draw attention to ourselves.

I made my way to my apartment, changing between walking, taxi and bus, constantly looking out for surveillance. My life had made this automatic. Nobody followed me. The devices I customarily placed to warn me of intruders were in place and I let myself in a secured the door behind me. I stripped off my jeans and shirt and showered, then dried, examining my welts in the long bathroom mirror.

I had a plan, was playing a long game. Had I hooked my fish?

Only time would tell.