The bearded guard pushed Josepha in the bedroom of his mistress. But before that, he had lashed slowly and tightly her brown fleshy arms, from elbows to wrists, forcing her big brown breasts forward.
The Russian woman's bedroom was constructed with an old-fashioned look. Several large beams ran horizontally beneath the ceiling. The nude Charlotte knelt under one of these.
The word knelt was not really appropriate. Kneeling assumes balance. And, it assumes that one can use one's feet, ankles and shins to maintain that balance. Charlotte could do no such thing. For Charlotte's ankles and shins were bent up and lashed to her thighs with thin cruel cord that cut into her flesh. In addition, her legs were laced together around the thighs and above the knees. The only thing that Charlotte knelt on were the points of her knees.
Tied like that, Charlotte would have easily toppled over. And it was the way that she was held in place that comprised the first cruelty.
Charlotte de Maupas had shoulder-length red hair. It was sleek and shiny. Normally she wore it loose around her face and neck. Sometimes, she tied it back. Until now it had never been tied it up on her head.
But it wasn't tied up with an elegant bun; it was gathered painfully and tightly on to the very top of her head and tied there with a piece of coarse rope. That length of rope stretched up to a beam, where it was fastened out of reach. That rope had been pulled so taut that it wasn't clear whether the captive actually knelt on her knees or hung from her scalp.
Charlotte's arms were behind her. And from the contorted position of her shoulders, Josepha could guess that it was not only her wrists that were tied but also her elbows, like hers. Either they had been made to meet or they had been tied very close together.
It looked very uncomfortable.
Then there was her gag. There was a length of colored cloth over it and around her head. That was tied tightly enough to squash her mouth and lips against the packing. Josepha looked in her eyes. They were tearful, but defiant.
It was the second cruelty, and not her eyes, however, that drew Josepha's gaze. The Russian woman had wrapped a length of cord around her waist and fastened it so tightly that, even thought there wasn't an ounce of excess fat on her frame, it nearly disappeared into her flesh. From it a second length of brutal cord went downwards, where it disappeared into a neat thatch of red pubic hair. It appeared to be cutting her in two upwards.
The bearded man pushed his dark captive towards the bed of his mistress and so they strode around behind the kneeling young woman. As Josepha suspected, Charlotte's elbows were crushed together behind her back. The cord between her legs appeared to be anchored to her wrists.
"On your knees, bitch, your head tilted between my thighs; and don't look at your mistress, look at my crotch!"
Josepha grimaced when she smelt the strong odor of the Russian woman. She had kept her white shirt but removed her waders and pants. Her thighs were white and long, delicately muscular.
"Do you like what you see, Josepha. Isn't more exciting than the pale freckled skin of your mistress, than her pubic hair color of wet sand? Come closer, I'll explain you the deal."
Josepha pulled on her bonds. Her arms were crushed behind her back so the poor girl knew that she could only do one thing: to obey.
"Igor, leave us alone," the woman said to the bearded guard.
She pinched the frowning brown nose:
"Show me your tongue!"
Josepha threw a look to Charlotte who rocked painfully on her knees, asking her a mute encouragement to resist but the poor girl could express nothing else than pain!
"So this is the deal. Poor Charlotte will stay in this terrible position until you make me cum. If I'm satisfied, I shall put her in a less painful position. If not, she'll stay like this all night long!"
Josepha shivered and Charlotte mewed in the panties filled in her mouth. The Russian woman added to her distress:
"Quickly. I like to take my time, and your poor mistress isn't going to want to wait any longer than necessary!"
Josepha swallowed. She was still virgin and had never made this kind of dirty thing with a woman! With a grimace of disgust, she introduced her tongue into the malefic opening.
It took hours, too many hours for the balancing Charlotte. The woman took a malicious pleasure in holding her orgasm as long as possible to extend Charlotte's torture. Finally she pushed Josepha away with a firm hand to the forehead of the French maid.
Josepha passed an exhausted tongue over her lips covered with white foam of carnal pleasure before saying;
"You said that you would stop the torture of "mademoiselle."
"Brave girl, you did not forget your young mistress."
Charlotte's wild eyes were staring at the ceiling while the Russian woman released her hair from its bondage, ending her horrible hanging by her red tresses. The girl was all in pain but she felt some relief when her naked breasts, her naked belly, her naked thighs always tightened in the cruel rope, touched the cold stone of the floor. The thick oriental carpets were not for her.
She was conscious enough to hear the Russian say
"You see, Josepha, that I'm a woman of her word." She reached down and unfastened the ropes holding Josepha's arms; the girl tried to shake some feeling back into her numb limbs.
"Your little mistress is more comfortable! But much too comfortable! Look, her hands are too far from her heels. It's not a good hogtie. Take this rope and make it so that her thumbs caress her heels and even scratch the dirt there! Do it for me or I shall do it myself and I think that it will be harder for her."
Josepha took the rope and looked at her mistress in distress on the floor, her elbows crushed together behind her back, her wrists bound by rough hemp, her feet at two palms from her numb fingers.
"How could I make it tighter than this?" She asked to herself.
But she could, pulling on the rope until Charlotte's back bent as a bow! And she cinched her rope over the ropes torturing the girl's forearms, pulling her fingers on her heels.
Charlotte grunted loudly in her gag but did not resist. There were tears in her furious eyes, tears but still defiance.
"Now, pretty Josepha, I give you a choice: you can sleep in my bed, your nude and black body snuggled up against my white form or be hogtied on the cold floor next to the small freckled plump Frenchwoman! So what's your choice for the night?"
Charlotte muttered furiously in the nasty panties filled in her mouth. The insults hurt still more than did the ropes to a girl of good nobility. She was not plump, she was athletic, in good shape from the fencing and the riding. Who was this woman to talk about her like this?
Josepha hesitated only a brief moment. The memory of the pain in the shoulders, the arms, the elbows, her forearms and her wrists had fast convinced her.
Full of shame, without daring to look at Charlotte twisted on the stony ground, she put a knee on the edge of the bed of the eager Russian.