Following Claire's lead, none of them wore panties, but black stockings, garter belts, and stiletto high heels were in order. Talk about hot! Brad and Andy had a hard time controlling their tongues as they watched them dress. Pictures were taken.By now, the girls were famished, so they hit the first sidewalk cafe outside the hotel. It looked out over the Seine. The City was alive with evening activity, the crossroads between the end of the work day and the lights of the night. It was dark by now. But to the guys on the street, it only added to the intrigue of an eye following a thigh to the dark, unknown space under the hem of a dress pulled high as if by accident. Guys skirted their eating area like bees to honey as the dynamic trio chatted and ate. The guys took a nearby table so as not to interfere with the fun. No fewer than fifteen amourous Frenchmen approached. Some left flowers. Some bought wine or a treat. Most left phone numbers and tried to get a closer look. Some girls. But Xena felt too weak to move. “Did you hear me, slave? Get up on all fours!” Flavia signed to one of the Overseers to pass over the plaited leather switch which dangled from her belt. This was standard equipment for all Overseers. Teeth bared with relish, Flavia flexed the switch and then lashed it across Xena’s lacerated buttocks.A pitiful cry echoed around the courtyard. “I told you to get up on all fours, slave!” barked Flavia. Oh the joy of having such power with such a victim at one’s mercy! Flavia laid on the switch a second time. Another cry... and, somehow, Xena forced herself on to her hands and knees. The biting cut of the switch was a potent incentive. It seemed to restore some of her strength. But oh the effort! “Up... up ...” commanded Flavia. “On all fours, like the bitch you are!” Groaning horribly, Xena pushed herself up so that she took her weight on her arms and partially straightened legs, her hindquarters thrust up. It was a most humiliating posture. Xena.
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