Lost for words of gratitude, I tried to smile, not only at the prospect of returning to my beloved country with him and Larissa but more importantly at having, I assumed, been forgiven for falling short of Elizabeth's expectations. At the same moment, I was surprised it was to London rather than to Maveringham we were bound. But I supposed such was his wife's decision. I could almost sense the smell and hustle and bustle of my home city, and wondered what awaited Larissa and me on arrival.

Thereafter I was propped up in a corner of the cellar where I could behold what was about to be inflicted on my former sisters. When it began, I was surprised how little noise, apart from the hiss and thud of the whips, arose from the two delinquents. True, they were firmly gagged but I had expected something more than muffled groans, for the simultaneous floggings, both fore and aft, were laid on with prodigious strength and lasted a long moment. For me, the scene was such as to bring me to my usual state of erotic euphoria as when I myself am flagellated.

Not only had Gilles's cock risen to its full height, the veins pulsing delectably down its length, but the slit in the helm, cleared of foreskin, was already exuding a string of liquid that to me seemed utter wastage. He concentrated, I noticed, mainly on the two sets of buttocks, while the veiled woman's crop lashed the victims' forward areas with equal strength. The punishment continued until the couple of slim bodies ceased to shudder, I meanwhile folding one thigh over the other to restrain myself from coming.

The sweating Slave Mistress then had the pair lowered by Florence and Larissa, ordering them to drag the sluts to the rear wall and stretch them out, again face forward. With professional skill, no doubt the fruit of her training at Orgival, Sandrine then hooked short lengths of chain to the outer rings of each slave's vulva folds, passed the links round the thighs and clipped the ends to a hasp set in the head of an anal dildo - it was when she wrenched the hips round that I saw the rear plugs; they had been inserted really deep in the hind orifice. This was for me nothing new nor for Veronica, whose rectum was trained to house anything that was rammed into it. But Mildred seemed too fatigued to react either to the cunt chains or to the spigot.

The beatings then took up again, the overseer's crop now dealing directly with each sex crotch in turn, de Clavaux's tawse flaying the breasts - those slack, flaccid bags he infinitely preferred to flog.

To my relief, I was I not invited to participate in the whippings, which I think was just as well, for in my brief coma, I had decided to forgive both of my former colleagues. When finally I was led back up to the hallway, leaving them behind, silently I had the magnanimity to wish them bon voyage to where they rightly belonged. The arrival at Orgival after the journey along the long, tranquil river Seine would not be pleasant for them. On my side, I dreaded yet another channel crossing. That was even worse than receiving the tawse.