The next morning they all slept late. At lunch Rex informed Jeannie and Clair
that they were back on the old footing. Jeannie was again Mistress Jeannie and was now the official
agent of the Mart stationed in the Chateau. She would meet the owner that evening. She should
prepare Clair and be ready for formal introductions. She would find everything she needed in her
new suite of rooms within the Chateau. "You mean that whole set of rooms where we stayed last night
. . ." "Are yours," Rex confirmed. "In fact, that whole wing of the Chateau is yours." Susan looked
at him questioningly. "You are still my wife, Susan, until we arrive at our final destination. But
first," he said removing two sets of tickets from his pocket, "we are going on a nice long
Mediterranean cruise together." Susan looked like she was about to orgasm over lunch. Rex then
said, "Mistress Jeannie." "Yes, Master Rex?" "Just Rex, You're home, but I'm still on the road."
"O.K., Rex." "Why don't you have Clair and Susan go wash each other up and do an inventory of your
suites? That way you'll know what's there and what you still need to ask for." Mistress Jeannie
looked at Rex and guessed that there was something deeper to his suggestion, he wanted time alone
with her. "Clair, Susan." "Yes, Mistress?" they replied almost in unison. "Go." They went. After
they were out of earshot she said, "O.K., Rex. What's on your mind." "Just some last minute
information and advice." She waited and looked at him. "Remember that history of the Mart, I had
you memorize?" "Yeeaahh," she replied, suspecting he was about to let her in on a deeper meaning.
"It was all nonsense, of course." "I had wondered if that might be the case." "Smart girl. All
that's important are the dates--not the years, just the months and days." He paused, watching her,
waiting to see if she'd make the connection. "Phone numbers?" "Exactly." He was quite pleased with
her mental quickness and how well she had turned out. "Every time you remember a reference to
Master Bland in the history it's a new number. There are three buried in the story. The first is in
Switzerland, the second in Hong Kong, and the third in Mexico. They are all toll free. In each case
you will be connected with an international book exchange--a cover for the Mart. These are open
lines so don't say anything. Just order something, anything and leave your name, phone, and
location. They will ask for your customer number. Do you remember Mistress Bluejay?" "Yes." "That's
you. The numbers following her story are your customer number. Someone will get back in touch with
you. If it's a real emergency tell them it's a rush order. Otherwise, you will be contacted
regularly once a month or so by an agent of the Mart, just to check in, to keep tabs on you, to see
if you need anything. You'll normally only use those numbers because your owner wants to order some
additional goodies or services, but you might also need it if an emergency should crop up." "What
kind of emergency?" He smiled very broadly at her, "I don't know. That's what makes them
emergencies." There was a long reflective pause on both sides. "Anything else?" she asked. "Just
this," he said. "You didn't come up through the normal channels. Don't let that bother or
intimidate you. Most of all, don't let it get in the way of your self- confidence. You are the
Mistress of this manor. You are an agent of the Mart. We've talked before about what that means.
But once I leave, remember that everything you do at the start will set precedents for your
relationship with your new owner and the rest of his associates." He left the rest of the thought
unexpressed--she was a smart girl and would figure it out. * * * * * That evening Mistress Jeannie
wore a stunning leather pants suit which clung tightly and revealed every curve. She had on three
inch heels and carried the black riding crop that Master Rex had given her. Clair was wearing the
leather headdress and bondage outfit identical to the one her Mistress had dressed her in on that
first morning long, long ago. She felt vulnerable; she felt sexy. Rex and Susan were dressed in
formal evening wear. The evening began in a large reception room of the Chateau. The guests
included a half-dozen associates. They were working on appetizers and drinks, waiting for the host
to arrive when Mistress Jeannie noticed a family portrait over the fire place. The man in the
picture had bright red hair--unusual for a Turk. He seemed to be of middle height, taller than
Mistress Jeannie, shorter than Clair. She guessed that this was the owner and asked Rex about it.
Speaking quietly he said, "Yes, that's Mr. Benjamin Disraeli Turgout. The red hair is from his
mother, a tall domineering English woman. Rumor has it they didn't get along. The short,
dark-haired women in the portrait is his wife, a very quiet and pleasant daughter of a local
politico. Of course, she and the family live in the capital. I doubt she even knows this place
exists." Staring at the picture, Mistress Jeannie said, "And he special ordered a short brunette
dominatrix with a tall redheaded slave." "Yes, he did. Didn't he." Rex grinned down at her. "His
legitimate trading concerns form a multi-million dollar empire.

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 His illegitimate drug activities
are worth hundreds of millions." Mistress Jeannie grew silent considering the implications of what
she had learned. Clair had stayed close to her ever since they had entered the room. The looks of
the men watching her made her nervous. Twenty minutes later Mr. Turgout arrived. He walked briskly,
talked briskly, did everything briskly. He was delighted with Mistress Jeannie and Clair. The
dinner party was in their honor. He shook Rex's hand warmly and told him how spectacular the two
girls looked. Then turning toward them, he said grinning, "Now let's see how well they are
trained." He walked directly up to Clair, unzipping his fly and removing a very large dick as he
walked. There was something in his manner which frightened Clair and concerned Mistress Jeannie. He
grabbed Clair's collar with one hand and pulled down until she was on her knees before him. "Now
bitch . . .," he said with obvious glee and suddenly slapped her across the face without warning.
Clair grunted within her gag and stared wildly up into the man's eyes. ". . . now we are going to
find out if you're as sexy as you look." At the slap, Mistress Jeannie shot a questioning glance at
Rex. His response was to shrug with his eyes and look blank. This told her everything she needed to
know. If he had pursed his lips and given his head a little shake it would have meant, 'Hands
off--the owner can do whatever he wants.' Had he opened his eyes wide and nodded toward the scene,
it would have meant, 'Get in there and do something.' He was leaving it up to her. He had even
warned her about early precedents. So as Mr. Turgout undid Clair's gag and said something about,
finally putting her whorish mouth to good use. Mistress Jeannie positioned herself and waited. She
had the entire force of the Mart behind her and for better or worse she was going to assert her
authority over this foul mouthed little man and establish a proper relationship. Mr. Turgout,
turned to his associates, who seemed to be enjoying the show, and said, "Fabulous, simply
fabulous-- everybody should have one." Then he turned back to the frightened Clair and raised his
hand to strike her again. Suddenly, Mistress Jeannie's riding crop flashed out and lashed him
across his upraised hand. Turgout, dropped Clair's collar, grabbed his injury, and cried out in
surprise and pain. Then he quickly turned on Mistress Jeannie and yelled, "What the fuck is this."
She reached over and grabbed his tie as he had been grabbing Clair's collar. Yanking him close, she
held her crop against his face. He wore the expression of a chastised school boy. She said with
quiet firmness, "You want to discuss this here or in private? If you want to save face, pull back
and order me to follow you somewhere we can talk." Turgout did so. Then he trooped out of the room
and Mistress Jeannie followed with a demeanor which was neither submissive nor defiant. Once in his
private office, he turned and started to say, "Now what the fuck . . ." But Mistress Jeannie
slammed her crop against the top of his desk and said with quiet fury, "You ordered a highly
trained Mistress and Slave, not a punching bag. If you want a punching bag we will be happy to get
one for you-- otherwise, behave yourself." And then reading the conflicting emotions playing across
his face she added, "If you're thinking of doing anything stupid remember how much you invested in
us. And if that doesn't make a dent remember that we are here as representatives of the Mart. It is
big, and powerful, and invisible. If you take any action against us you and your entire family will
be dead so fast it will make your head swim. You knew that was the deal when you decided to do
business with us. Am I completely clear!" Mr. Turgout's face and manner suddenly deflated. Mistress
Jeannie, having won her point, moved quickly to repair the relationship. "I have absolutely no
desire to undermine your authority--we are here to serve you, each in our own special way, and to
make your life as delightful as we can. If you want a girl to abuse, I'll be glad to train one for
you." At that his face brightened. An evil look crept in as he picked up the phone and dialed.
"Fetzler?" And what followed was a string of rapid Turkish. Thirty minutes later they both
returned. Turgout was beaming and Mistress Jeannie looked like she was in quiet control. Rex nodded
with approval and, taking Susan's hand, headed into the dining room. "They'll be announcing dinner
quite shortly." A few moments later they did. Dinner was long and excellent and it allowed Mistress
Jeannie the opportunity to establish eye contact with Rex. Once the confrontation had broken out,
she had fixed her stare on Turgout's face. She hadn't gotten a chance to take a measure of Rex's
reaction. When she finally caught his eye, he raised his glass to her and smiled warmly. Following
dinner Mr. Turgout climbed up on a table and got his public blowjob from Clair. But this time
without the fireworks and under the direction of Mistress Jeannie. After it was over he announced
that it was the best he'd ever had. It was.

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