Nadine was definitely unhappy; if she could have crawled under the carpets she would have done it. She was acting sheepishly; her disdainful look was replaced by a demure one. She was only looking at her feet; her arms were alongside her body with her hands clenched into fists. She wasn’t speaking; she was only whispering.
The dinner was a quiet one, and she only nibbled at her food. Before the end of the dinner she asked me if she could go to her room because she was feeling ill.
I let her go.
Before going to my own room I take a peep inside hers (her door was open, good girl!), she was in a fetal position, her back to me; and I could see, from the movement of her shoulders, that she was crying.
The next morning, I asked Nicole to prepare a table outside for the breakfast. I generally don’t take breakfast, but this time I wanted to be close to Nadine. The table was a small one like you can find in the famous Italian or French coffee shop with two seats of metallic embroidery. Normally you put cushions on these seats to make them comfortable, but comfort was definitely not an issue for Nadine, at least not today.
A zombie walked slowly through the patio. A zombie with combed hair and a face made up, but nevertheless a zombie.
Nicole was helping the zombie to sit beside me, our knees touching. The zombie was shivering and goose bumps could be seen on her body.
Nicole was already asking what the zombie, called Nadine, wanted for breakfast.
Women must have special ears as I didn’t understand a word of what Nadine whispered, but Nicole was soon back with cereals, fruits, soft-boiled eggs and of course French croissants and jam.
Nadine started to eat, she was hungry. Still no words were exchanged. She ate like it was her last meal. After her third cup of coffee she was squirming on her seat and we started to talk about her weekly duties. She had to repeat her answers several times (she was still whispering looking blankly at her cup of coffee).
I took her chin in my hand and forced her to look at me. She was afraid. I asked her to end this attitude and to speak normally. Her predicament was to help her change her behavior but certainly it was not meant to terrorize her or to transform her into a living zombie.
She eased a bit, but was still squirming more and more on her seat.
"Are you comfortable (I know she can’t be)?"
Her answer was obvious and I proposed that she should get a cushion.
When standing up one could see in thin red lines the negative of the seat embroidery on both her back and buttocks. It was absolutely marvelous.
When she returned with the cushions she looked relieved and we continued to chat for an hour about what should be done in the house.
In the following days I could see that Nadine was starting to get used to her situation. Of course, every time I looked at her she was blushing. Every time she had to command one of the maids she was crimson from head to toes, but she was gently accommodating.
It was after the third day of being fully naked that I saw the first big change on her body. When sitting at the breakfast table I glanced rapidly at her pubic bush and there were no doubts that her clitoris was no longer hidden, it peeked out gently. Her clitoris hood was no more an empty hole it was now inhabited by some kind of small pencil.
This morning we had our breakfast with Chantal who normally arrived later in the morning.
Nadine started immediately to complain about being braless with the potential problem of her breasts sagging (good, she was rebelling!).
Chantal was listening carefully, adding some comments of her own, when suddenly both looked at me.
I was not listening, but it was easy to guess the question.
I gave Chantal a phone number (the Resort one) and asked her to get some help about this huge problem as three days of being braless was making Nadine appear older by at least ten years.
Nadine was blushing when Chantal left to find a cordless phone.
The conversation was held at the table so I could see the different reds Nadine’s skin reached while listening to this part of the conversation.
She looked like a zombie again.
Chantal shut off the phone and turned to me. "Michel, I got a specialist in woman gymnastics who was explaining to me all the exercises a naked woman should perform every morning during half an hour in order to avoid the problems we were talking about with Nadine. You asked me to do the phone call; does that mean that you also want me to be Nadine’s coach for these morning exercises?"
"Of course, my dear! And may I propose that you handle them here on the terrace when the sun is shining or in the patio when it gets colder? An appropriate time would be right after the breakfast. Does it fit your schedule?"
Chantal was grinning (I think she was starting to really enjoy the situation). My zombie was very pale.
Chantal was going to her room to change into a more appropriate outfit.
She was stunning in her leopard leotard.
They started the exercises in the middle of the terrace. Just imagine (if you can, horny like you are) this perfect blue sky you can find in only one part of the world, namely the French Riviera, with an intense blue Méditerranée in the background and like onstage a naked woman dancing with a maestro in a leopard leotard (I like the sound of it).
I can tell you I was a very, very happy man that morning.
The exercises can’t help the modesty of a naked woman: her breasts were bouncing, and her splits gave me a full view of her love tunnel. When she bent forward her asshole was opening and closing like a shy rosebud which didn’t know if it was time to bloom or not.
After twenty-five minutes I had two shiny, sweating, beautiful bodies and a leotard that was quickly becoming transparent.
I was hypnotized. Nadine’s clit was now completely out of its hood and her nipples were quite erect.
I realized that I would have a delightful respite after breakfast every morning. Such an easy life!
I think it was on the fifth day of Nadine’s predicament that I got Amandine’s phone call.
Amandine was one of my neighbors; she was the kinkiest girl around here. She was a tall fit woman in her early forties with four charming daughters she was educating alone. She had a perfectly proportioned body with a wasp waist (she must be a corset addict) giving some added fullness to her breasts and bottom.
Amandine tried, when I was in Stockholm, to help Nadine with her duties and mainly to make her feel welcome in Nice. They had previously visited each other to chat and drink cups of tea.
Amandine’s call was mainly about the attitude of Nadine during their phone call this morning. Amandine was complaining and not understanding why Nadine was so cold with her during their conversation.
I was laughing inside as I could easily see the source of Nadine’s sudden coldness toward Amandine (I think you too see why).
I calmed Amandine and asked her to come to my house in about an hour to solve this small relationship problem.
I then summoned Nadine immediately after hanging up the phone.
"Why did you have such a bad attitude with your new friend Amandine this morning?"
The answer was rebellion. She had not lost her wits and definitely not her tongue.
I changed attitude myself and I looked more and more angry to her. She was sensing the change and she started to blush and then to cry. She was twisting her hands before bringing them both to her mouth. With wide open eyes she started to register what she had said.
Silence. I let her stew in her own juice.
"Nadine, your predicament is an incentive to change your behavior. I can see that your natural mind (no pun intended) is coming back at full gallop. You have exactly one chance to call back Amandine, to apologize and to explain your chastisement"
Nadine’s explanation was a piece of anthology. I’d asked my three maids to come and listen. Nadine was now fully humiliated, eyes rolling, speech uneasy, she was squirming on her seat like it was burning her. The phone call ended.
"Joëlle, you did not hear what she said to me before this explanation, thus you will have to trust me. I can assure you that this is the right time to wash this bad mouth of hers."
I then led Nadine by her left arm to the bathroom with my three maids on my heels.
I have to explain you that we have a famous soap maker here in France called Roger Galley. He makes soaps with different colors and perfumes but they all look like a small hockey puck. I grabbed both of Nadine arms. Joëlle was taking a blue soap (lavender perfume) and trying to push it into Nadine’s mouth. She, of course, was turning her head to her side and biting her lips, but Nicole was furiously twisting her left nipple. The reaction was immediate. Nadine opened her mouth to scream from the inflicted pain and the soap was dropped directly into her mouth. Chantal had already fetched some duct tape and soon we had an unwilling gagged Nadine. Joëlle then took a bathrobe belt and Nadine’s arms were bound at wrists and elbows. The elbows were touching each other.
I then led her back to the patio and threw her onto a sofa. She was bucking like a wild bronco while I held her on the sofa, and tried to untie her hands. It was a useless effort. Joëlle is a bondage expert.
"Nadine this is the first time that I had to wash your mouth, and I hope that it will be the last one. (Don’t worry reader, I don’t feel guilty when I’m lying like that.) We will wait until Amandine is here before removing the soap. I don’t know how long it will take, but I can assure you that the next time I will have to do that to you I will double the time!"
We had to wait forty minutes in front of a squirming and bucking Nadine. She tried her best to swallow her soapy drool without choking and made a terrific show.
Amandine arrived wearing a light sundress. She was beautifully tanned and her smile changed quickly into a look of disbelief when she saw "poor" Nadine.
Joëlle untied Nadine We all heard Nadine’s muffled scream when the duct tape was pulled off. Nadine was soon spitting some pieces of the soap and coughing at the same time into a small towel that Nicole had given her.
I took the biggest piece of what was a brand new Roger Galley soap. I could give it to her dentist and he wouldn’t need to make a mold of Nadine’s teeth.
After more explanations to Amandine we got drinks from a tray Nicole brought out. Nadine was sipping a glass of water (she told me a long time after this event that during fifteen days everything she ate or drank had a lavender taste) and she was trying hard to regain her composure. She was still crimson, her clit had disappeared her nipples were flat. She was in a near fetal standing position in the sofa, her legs under her butt and her arms hugging her.
Amandine asked her to change her position in order to be more ladylike, "Back straight, legs closed and head up!"
Nadine was reluctantly moving into this new position when Amandine added, "Because modesty is not scheduled for you, I will ask you to open your legs at least twenty centimeters at knee level, in order for us to have a good view of your love hole. Put your hands on your lap and straighten your back even more!"
Nadine was blushing again, her clitoris was reappearing and her nipples were hardening.
"Nadine after less than a week of your punishment, I don’t think that your behavior is changing quickly, it seems that you are a slow learner thus an extension of your punishment will be an added value for you. Nicole, would you please fetch again the dice tray and the dice from my office?"
"Nadine, this time Amandine and I are the offended parties; so we will consequently throw two dice."
6-6 makes twelve.
"Bingo! Nadine, you have doubled your time."
The zombie returned, but this time not because of the sentence extension, but because of the soapy drool which was having some effect on her bowels (something like a reverse enema). She suddenly rushed to the nearest toilets. We heard the door slamming. Joëlle and I were grinning from ear to ear. (Guess why, dear reader? Of course, she broke a rule: no doors allowed to be shut.)
I had to explain the rules to Amandine. When a crimson Nadine came back I asked her about the kind of punishment I should deliver to someone who broke such a simple rule.
Amandine and Joëlle in unison shouted the answer in one word. "SPANKING!"
Except for Nadine, we all laughed.
Then my three maids and Amandine spent at least ten minutes arguing about the best position for spanking someone’s butt; what kind of utensil should be used, hand, paddle or maybe a short whip.
I was squashed laughing on my seat. Nadine was perspiring as she didn’t find it funny, but she took the new position Amandine asked her to take: straight, legs slightly open, hands on her lap. The discussion among the other girls had some effect on her; she was blushing but not the normal way. The blush was on her breasts and belly. She was aroused. Now her juices were freely pouring out of her pussy. She was beautiful even with this small puddle between her legs.
The other women finally reached a decision: the best position was on someone’s lap with knees and elbows on the floor. The best implement was a very flexible leather paddle. Amandine stated that she’d just bought a new one and eagerly offered it for Nadine.
During Amandine’s return home for the paddle, I went into my office to fetch a nurse’s easy chair (It was very low with a high back. The nurses used these in the old times to nurse their babies. But don’t ask me why it was stored in my office.)
Everything was settled except for who would give the spanking and how many blows Nadine would receive.
I decided that the punisher should be Joëlle (I was definitely too strong to spank such a fragile butt even with a paddle. I didn’t want to injure her and not just because of the contract.)
Amandine and Joëlle came to the agreement that twenty was a good starting number and it should never be less. In fact the real indicator and the best one would be the redness of the spanked butt.
I fetched two halogen lights. Joëlle was seated and a sighing Nadine was taking her place on Joëlle’s lap.
My Nadine was now on the way to being nicely spanked and the lights are so bright on her butt that nothing could be missed.
She bit her lips during the four first blows. Her butt was a rose shade.
She started screaming at the sixth one. Joëlle was a real master (or I should say mistress). The blows were equally spaced both in location and time. Nadine had just enough time to catch her breath when the next blow hit her. Each new blow slightly overlapped the previous one making a very nice cameo of reds.
At fifteen Nadine stopped screaming and started moaning.
At twenty the room was filled with a musky sexual female scent and Nadine was not the only one who was aroused.
Nadine’s ass cheeks were beet red, the cameo vanished, replaced by a plain genuine crimson.
Joëlle stopped and the two other maids and Amandine bent over Nadine’s ass cheeks discussing about the quality of the redness. It didn’t meet their standards. Nadine was moaning loudly bucking her hips in the air asking for more blows.
The spanking resumed until thirty blows were given.
Now Chantal and Nicole had to hold Nadine onto Joëlle’s lap.
I asked Joëlle to stop. Nadine was crying in frustration. She was trying to get her relief by moving her hips on Joëlle’s lap. Nadine’s juices showered Joëlle’s skirt.
When I took her by her left arm to put her into a standing position I thought that she was going to masturbate right here, right now in front of five people.
I had to gently shake a shivering Nadine to calm her down. I wanted to keep her frustrated; public orgasms were allowed in my house but hers would come later.
I walked grinning into the garden leaving five flushed and frustrated women. Such a fine day!