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After Gerard and Anais joined old Cyril, his nephew Cecil, and Faustine at their table, Cyril waved Quy over. He told the girl, “Two more bottles of your finest wine, my dear. A chardonnay and a bottle of Port.” Then he winked at Anais and said, “You young people enjoy the white; the Port is for me.” Gerard said, “May as well bring me a scotch.” Quy did what she considered a curtesy and went to get the wine.

Faustine watched the little Vietnamese girl scurry away in her 18th Century style dress and remarked to no one in particular, “Doesn’t she look out of place in that outfit? A clash of cultures, so to speak.”

Cyril replied, “It’s traditional here, my dear. The outfits, I mean. Besides, they are practical, if you know what I mean.”

And Anais thought to herself, “Faustine, you know absolutely nothing about the traditions here.”

Quy brought the wine and poured a glass of the chardonnay for each of the women and Cecil. She then sat a tumbler of scotch in front of Gerard and placed the bottle of Port beside Cyril. Cyril said, “To us, then,” and everyone took a drink. A short silence ensued, then Cyril broke the silence by saying, “Gerard, what do you and Cecil think about that American president and his tariffs? Will that affect your brother’s business much, Gerard?” The men then began talking among themselves, basically ignoring Anais and Faustine, who silently sipped their wine.

After a bit Faustine said, “I need to use the ladies room.” Gerard chuckled and said, “Anais will show you where it is.” As both girls were walking away from the table, Faustine whispered to Anais, “You seem upset with me. Is it because I disagreed with your thesis in class? I mean, your premise was so false. No woman would agree to become a sex slave. All those poor women who become slaves are trafficked involuntarily.”

Once inside the restroom, Anais pointed to a Turkish toilet in the corner that has mirrors all around it. She said, “Look at that. When you squat, you see yourself, your privates. All reflected in the mirrors. That is the toilet the wait staff must use. You think they do so voluntarily? Just imagine that little Vietnamese girl who is our waitress squaring down, seeing herself. You think she wants to see that. No. It’s imposed on her.”

Faustine gave a puzzled look. “I’m not sure I understand. Do you mean our waitresses are sex slaves?”

“Yes. Along with the other women here dressed like them. And it’s much worse for the ones they call personal slaves. They are whipped almost daily. AND they chose to be here to please their lovers.” Anais paused, then, “Just like my thesis that you made fun of.”

“I’m just not sure I believe you,” said Faustine.

Ari continued telling Zoe about Doutzen’s crucifixion.

“It was the summer solstice. Anne Marie and I entered Doutzen’s cell. She was crouched in the far corner, blindfolded with her wrists cuffs secured behind her back. A chain attached to her labia prevented her from moving more than a few feet and she had been eating bent over a large flat bowl, not unlike a domestic animal. When I spoke, it was the first human voice she had heard for nearly a month. ‘Doutzen, I am having you crucified,’ I declared. Surprisingly she thanked me. I described in cold, harsh, detail how she would be lead from this cell on the morrow to the garden where she would be stripped, whipped, and then crucified. Even in the dim light I could see Doutzen's complexion blanch. Doutzen swallowed twice and said in a timid voice, ‘I would ask but one favor.’ ‘What?’ I asked harshly. ‘Will you have me once more before I die?’ I did not answer her. Instead, I described to her as best he could the long slow painful death that awaited her. Doutzen said nothing and Anne Marie informed her that the three valets who would implement her sentence would spend the night with her. She was to be abused by them all night. Then Anne Marie had Doutzen lie stretched out upon the floor. Using a common measuring tape, she determined her height and the distance from hip to toe when her knees were bent as well as when they were straightened. Afterwards, I kissed her on the cheek. Then I ran my hand into Doutzen’s already wet sex and said, ‘You will be magnificent!’ She was in tears as I and I left the cell.

"The next morning dawned clear with early summer humidity in the air. The garden had been prepared with lawn chairs and tables on which a buffet would later be served. A single rough-hewn post some two meters high stood in the center. Thirty-two Masters and their attendant females were present, though more than fifty had been invited. Coffee and pastries were served. It was almost ten when Doutzen was brought into the garden. She was pale and shivering, beneath her cape She was led by a leather leash attached to the rings that hung from her nether lips. Her wrist and ankles were adorned with leather cuffs, and her arms were bound behind her back with a cape draped over her shoulders. She moved as if in a trance blinking in the midday light.

"A six-inch square block of wood had been split diagonally, and one piece had been nailed about a foot off the ground to serve as a footrest. It served as a base or footrest. It allowed Doutzen to rest in her struggles and prolong her suffering. They say that sometimes it can last for days. A mortise joint had been carved into the top of the post so that the crossbeam would fit in snuggly. The crossbeam lay on the ground directly before the upright. Doutzen was brought before me and knelt. I stood and announced to the gathering that this was not punishment, but rather a result of Doutzen’s pride and stubbornness. The valets helped her to her feet and lead her to the upright. They removed her cape, and all in attendance could see the bruises and welts that had been inflicted on her during the previous night. The valets stood aside smirking, obviously pleased with their work on the young woman. Doutzen was truly naked now except for the rings in her labia and the brand that marked her as my property."

"Anne Marie then produced a foot long slightly curved rod. The top eight inches were encased in smooth black leather, and the lower portion was a plain wooden dowel. I took it and pressed the tip to Doutzen's lips and she kissed it. Then the bare wooden end was slipped into a hole drilled into the post. A simple peg secured it in place. I turned back to Doutzen, and had the valets gently raise Doutzen’s legs once more exposing her rear. Yvette, Anne Marie’s girl, applied oil to Doutzen’s anus. Anne Marie continued to speak calming words as she also stroked Doutzen’s genitals. Doutzen’s wrists were secured to a cross beam. Two of the valets each took an end of the crossbeam and began to slowly lift. The third valet helped Doutzen to her feet. She was sobbing uncontrollably by the time she was standing with her back to the upright. The two valets strained to lift the crosspiece over the top of the upright while the third supported Doutzen's hips. Doutzen gasped in pain as the crosspiece was wrestled into position and then dropped into place. While one man held the crossbeam steady the other went behind the cross and slid several pins into place securing the beam in position. The one who had been holding Doutzen's hips now raised her up over the protruding leather wrapped shaft. He held her bottom cheeks open as Doutzen slid down onto the rod. Doutzen was screaming and pleading as the two men who had set the crosspiece hurried to help their partner. They caught her flailing feet and pulled them up onto the footrest. Doutzen began to struggle in earnest once her feet had some leverage. She pulled herself upright.

"The valets stepped away as Doutzen struggled vainly to free herself. She rose up on her feet to cry and beg and plead for release until her shaking legs collapsed under her and she slumped back down onto the rod. She hung there and cried until her breath was coming in short panting gasps and then rose up once more to scream. Anne Marie had measured perfectly. The device was low enough upon the upright so that Doutzen's wrist were pulled taunt when her weight was fully on the rod, yet it was not so low as to let Doutzen dislodge the shaft when she pulled herself erect. The very struggle to breathe perpetuated the tireless rape of her bowels. It was indeed the most horrifying and degrading torment. Those women who attended us tried to look away. Doutzen had always prided herself in enduring what pain was inflicted on her. However, over the course of a half-hour, Doutzen began an unlikely transformation. The tears dried, and her cries faded to gentle whimpers. She no longer begged or pleaded but seemed to accept her pain. Serenity engulfed her as she committed herself to a struggle that could only prolong her agony.

“Where at first, she had fought; now she seemed to accept her fate with a simple dignity that is impossible to explain. She now moved with a smooth fluidness almost dancing upon her cross. She would slide down onto the saddle and hang from her wrists with her legs bent to the right, until her breath came only in short, labored gasps. Them with only the mildest whimper she slowly began to push herself up straightening her legs. When she was fully erect she quickly took great gulping breaths, but as her legs began to tremble she again slip down until she was hanging once more from her wrists and the shaft that impaled her bottom. Doutzen's struggles captivated everyone for a long while. They all remained motionless drinking in her agony.

“Margareta who accompanied me, had been sitting on the grass next to my chair noticed my arousal. Margareta offered Doutzen a drink from a cup of wine mixed with vinegar, which Doutzen accepted in silence. Margareta took up a position kneeling at the side of Doutzen's cross. There she remained. Margareta's simple act broke the trance that had bound us all. Conversation resumed, groups of people wandered to the tables to eat while others pushed forward to get a closer look at Doutzen's pain wracked body. Some desired to touch Doutzen. Men who had whipped her and used her in every imaginable way in the past now stroked her body with quiet reverence. Eventually most came to accept Doutzen as an ornament of sorts. “Men and some women continued to approach in groups of two or three, stroking or kissing her breasts, caressing her smooth hairless mound, or even letting a finger slip into her sex. There was none of the coarse chatter, however, they spoke in hushed tones and seemed in awe of the ritual of pain that had become Doutzen's sacrifice. For Doutzen's part she accepted it all with silent dignity, looking down demurely when others touched or probed her. By the time the sun hung low on the horizon most of the attendees had in fact lost interest and sought the relative coolness of the chateau. Only Margareta, Anne Marie, Yvette and I remained. Doutzen was weakening as the afternoon air chilled, and her body shook uncontrollably when she rested on her saddle.

Faustine had approached the table where Anais and Gerard were seated in the “public” restaurant of Chateau with her date, Cecil and his great uncle Cyril following in her wake. She said, “ Hello, Anais. It’s me -Faustine.  Remember, we had a couple of classes together at school.”

Anais peered over the top of her glasses that she really didn’t need but wore to give her an intellectual appearance, or so she thought. After a deliberate pause, she said without any sign of warmth, “ Of course I remember you. I’m a little surprised to see you here, though.” As she said this, Anais was thinking to herself, “Of course I recognize you, you wanna be bohemian bitch. You loudly disagreed with my interpretation of the novel, ‘His Property,.’ It was an assigned read in our erotic literature class at the Sorbonne. My thesis was about why and how a woman might willingly become a slave, basically a sex slave, to the man she loved. The professor was so impressed that he asked me to read it aloud, but you interrupted and said it was a false premise. No woman would agree to do that. You have absolutely no idea what a girl would agree to in order to please her lover. Don’t you know what this place is?”

As Anais was thinking this, old Cyril said to Gerard, “Gerard, please let me introduce my great nephew Cecil Saint Claire. He is spending the summer with me. And, obviously, this is Faustine…” Before he could finish, Faustine interrupted,  “So good to meet you, Gerard. And Anais, good to see you again.”

Cyril ignored her, instead focusing his gaze on Anais ample bust seemingly trying to escape from the low cut dress she was wearing. He said, “Condolences to your brother on his recent loss. Won’t you and Anais please join us at our table. I’ve just ordered a bottle of good wine and will gladly order another.”

Gerard replied, “Well she had been ill for awhile. Always, a bit sickly in truth.” He paused, glanced at Anais and said, “Yes. I guess we could join you if we wouldn’t be intruding.” Gerard was thinking, “Old Cyril is a Senior Master. It wouldn’t be wise to decline his invitation.”

“There is always room for pretty women at my table,” said Cyril.

As both couples followed Cyril to his table, Faustine said to Anais, “What a pretty dress. It fits your body so well.”