Cassandra's Chateau

by Fredrica Alleyn

  ‘A pity she wasn’t the one to break the jug,’ muttered the baron.

  ‘I think I would enjoy punishing her today. She has such a delicious relationship with the punishment chair.’

  Cassandra, remembering that she had to deal with Monique’s transgression before the day was out, wondered if she should use the chair on the other maid. It was always effective, but had to be used sparingly. She tried to recall when Monique had last been forced to endure it, but her memory failed her and she made a mental note to look it up in her punishment book before she made her final decision.

  Once Sophie had reappeared with the coffee and then had withdrawn, Cassandra broke a croissant in half, spread it liberally with the thick golden honey produced by their own bees and took a large bite. She was starving after the night’s activity and watching her lick at the drips that escaped from her mouth, the baron delighted in her appetite. Since coming to the chateau he had taught her how to savour everything more fully, from the full-bodied red wines of the surrounding area to the light, crisp dry whites; from the sweet, sticky honey she was eating now to the local speciality of crayfish cooked in wine. Above all, he’d continued to teach her how to take increasing sexual stimulation, to discipline her body and control her reactions until she was now sensually the most finely tuned woman he’d ever possessed. Yes, he mused, they hadn’t wasted their time in the Loire, but now was the moment for things to move on.

  He propped himself up against the pillows and ran a hand down one of her bare arms. ‘While you were talking to Lara early this morning, Sir James and I were having an interesting discussion about his stepdaughter, Nicola,’ he said slowly.

  Cassandra turned to look at him. ‘In what way, interesting?’ she asked casually, but inside she was tense. The excited gleam in his eyes, and the way his mouth was turning upwards at the corners were all signs that at last he had found some intriguing new diversion. She sensed that it could well put her position in jeopardy.

  ‘I’ll explain more fully,’ he murmured and as he recounted the conversation he had held with the Englishman Cassandra’s mouth went dry and she discarded the croissant, turning instead to a huge cup of bitter coffee for comfort.

  ‘So, you see,’ he concluded, ‘it will be a wonderful game!’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand exactly what you mean,’ she said.

  He smiled, and a dimple appeared in his cheek, making him look young and boyish again. ‘I think you do, Cassandra! Imagine how exciting it will be to teach this innocent girl the unimaginable joys of the flesh. Just think of the pleasure to be obtained from tutoring an untried body until it learns not only how to take pleasure but also how to discipline itself in the process. Do you remember how you felt when you first joined my household?’ Cassandra nodded, a lump filling her throat at the memory. ‘Well, that is how it will be for Nicola, only more so because as I understand it she is completely untouched. Not even a clumsy husband has been near her!’

  ‘But the game?’

  ‘The game, my dear Cassandra, is that I expect you to assist me every step of the way. Together we will introduce her to everything we share here. She will learn to take pleasure from pain, the importance of discipline applied with affection and above all, we will show her how best to please me.’

  ‘When does the game end?’ asked Cassandra.

  The baron’s naturally arched eyebrows were raised even higher. ‘It ends, my dear, when she has learnt all that there is to learn; when we have completed her sexual education and she is quite literally “finished”, as her father wishes.’

  ‘But that isn’t a game, it’s simply an entertainment, something to keep you – to keep both of us – busy. A game has a winner.’

  He nodded and now the smile was gone, the dimple had disappeared. ‘There will be that too. Once Nicola is fully trained, once I think that you have truly done your best to pass on all the knowledge I’ve taught you, then she will be exquisite, don’t you think?’

  Cassandra nodded, already guessing what was coming next.

  ‘So exquisite,’ he continued softly, ‘that I may well have difficulty in choosing who the winner is, but choose I must. After all, I can’t have two chatelaines here in the Loire, can I?’

  ‘You mean that you expect me to help you train a girl who might then take my place?’ asked Cassandra incredulously.

  He shrugged. ‘I imagined you would have too much confidence in yourself to let the prospect of defeat enter your mind. It seems I was wrong. You disappoint me, Cassandra. Where is your sense of adventure?’

  Cassandra fought to quell her rising panic. After all, why should she be surprised. Hadn’t the same thing been expected of Katya, her predecessor? So why had she imagined it would be different for her. And yet she had imagined it. Because she was involved emotionally with the baron she had made the mistake of thinking it was the same for him, despite the fact that he had always told her that he was incapable of love.

  She realised now that secretly, in her subconscious, she’d been misleading herself. The tranquillity of their life here, enlivened by the long decadent parties and intimate weekends for special friends, had suited her and until recently she’d thought the baron content too. This had led her to believe that in her he had at last found the one woman who could be everything to him.

  Lately though, she’d sensed the boredom, and now she understood the cause. She wasn’t enough for him; he needed a fresh challenge, a new stimulus, and if she refused to play the game or didn’t participate in the way he wished then she was finished anyway. To ‘disappoint’ him was the ultimate sin.

  She forced herself to pick up the discarded croissant and begin nibbling on it again, hoping that the coffee had moistened her throat sufficiently for her to swallow the crumbs. ‘To be frank, Dieter,’ she said slowly, ‘I can’t quite see that it will be much of a challenge. What makes you think this Nicola will be in the least bit sensual? It isn’t as though you’ve met her, assessed her for yourself. She may well be the one to prove a disappointment to you.’

  The baron smiled again. This was better, more the kind of behaviour he’d come to expect from Cassandra, and he admired the way she was coping with his news now she’d had a few moments to consider it. ‘You may be right, but considering the way Sir James behaves I think it quite likely there’s a vein of untapped sexuality in Nicola. We may just have a little trouble unleashing it.’

  ‘Whatever she’s like, she won’t win,’ said Cassandra, her voice calm and certain.

  ‘I’d hoped you’d say that.’

  ‘Well then, when does she arrive?’

  The baron rolled onto his side and let the fingers of his right hand dance over the sensitive thin skin that covered Cassandra’s left hipbone. ‘In a week’s time. Before then I want a suite of rooms prepared for her. She’ll need a bedroom not too far from us, say the green room, and she can have the bathroom and dressing room that are next door.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better for her to have an ensuite bathroom?’ asked Cassandra.

  ‘I think not. There may be times when we wish to make these facilities unavailable to her. It will be easier done this way. Also, in the green room when her windows are open she will hear sounds from the floor above when the punishment chair is in use.’

  ‘I’ll make sure that the rooms are thoroughly aired and suitably fitted out,’ said Cassandra. The baron nodded. They understood each other. Nicola’s bedroom would have everything necessary for her initiation fitted or concealed in her rooms before her arrival.

  ‘She must have all her senses heightened from the start,’ he added. ‘Fresh flowers, silk sheets, excellent food and wine on the first night, fresh fruit in her room, Belgian chocolates, that kind of thing. We’ll work on her more down-to-earth appetites before we begin the serious work!’ He laughed and Cassandra shivered. Just for one brief moment she felt sorry for the young girl who was going to join them, but then she hardened her heart.

  Nicolawouldlearnofpreviousl
yunimagined pleasures here in the chateau, and would undoubtedly fall in love with the baron in the process. If she proved too good a pupil then she wouldn’t need Cassandra’s pity for long.

  ‘Will we be the only ones to educate her?’ Cassandra asked as, her croissant finished, she swung her long legs out of bed and began to dress.

  The baron watched her, wondering whether or not he wanted to make love to her again before getting up but finally deciding against it. He’d rather save himself for enjoying her after Monique was released from her day’s punishment.

  ‘Not at all,’ he responded.

  ‘After a time, when I judge her ready for fresh stimulation, I shall invite Rupert and Françoise to join us, together with a young Italian friend of theirs, Giovanni Benelli. That, I think, will enable us to really expand our novice’s horizons. Before that Peter and the maids will doubtless be useful from time to time.’

  Cassandra nodded. She’d expected to hear that Rupert and Françoise would join them, and could remember very well how much they’d taught her about her body when she was innocent. ‘Talking of the maids, I must go and talk to Monique,’ she remarked.

  ‘Of course. I shall go for a walk around the grounds and later I may drive into town for lunch with some business advisors. I shall return about five.’

  Cassandranodded,aware that this meant he expected her to have Monique ready for him by then. She bent to kiss the baron on the cheek, their normal way of parting, but he surprised her by gripping her face tightly between his hands and kissing her fiercely on the mouth. ‘It will be fun!’ he whispered as he released her. ‘There is nothing to beat the thrill of such a game.’

  When Cassandra entered the cool, spacious kitchen where the two maids and the chef were already at work, she could still feel the pressure of the baron’s lips on hers and she touched them lightly with her fingers. Whatever this Nicola was like, she would never take over at the chateau, Cassandra vowed to herself. No matter what it took, she would defeat her in the end.

  Monique, horribly aware of the broken Limoges cream jug on the previous Friday night, glanced apprehensively at her mistress when she entered, but Cassandra smiled disarmingly at her and the hapless girl relaxed slightly.

  ‘Have you breakfasted, Monique?’ she asked gently. The maid nodded, hands clasped in front of her as expected.

  ‘Excellent. Bring me the punishment book please. The baron was most displeased with the accident on Friday night and I wish to see when you were last put in the chair.’

  Sophie, the other maid, didn’t glance at her redheaded friend, because she knew only too well the look of horror she’d see on her face. For Sophie there was a special kind of ecstasy in that particular punishment, but she knew that Monique didn’t share her feelings.

  ‘Madame, please, it was an accident,’ Monique gabbled, wishing her English was better.

  ‘Of course it was. If it had been deliberate then you would have been dismissed. As it is you must be punished. You know the rules. Unless, of course, you wish to leave our employment now?’

  Monique’s pale face grew even paler so that her freckles stood out more clearly. ‘Non! Non!’ she protested, and Cassandra, who knew very well that the redheadwasbesottedwiththebaron,smiled sympathetically.

  ‘Bring me the book then,’ she reminded her.

  With slow steps the small-breasted, highly-strung maid went to the cupboard above the sink and brought out the punishment book. It contained a list of all fines and punishments administered to members of staff who broke any of the baron’s numerous rules, but it was Monique’s name who figured in it the most prominently. She had the unhappy knack of dropping things at vital moments, and remembering to knock on all doors before entering seemed beyond her mental capabilities. Nevertheless, she remained at the chateau because, despite some pain, she had learnt more of pleasure and desire there than anywhere else and she had no wish to return to the tiny, conventional home from which she had come.

  Cassandra checked the pages carefully. It was over two months since this particular form of chastisement had been used on the maid and she considered this an adequate gap. ‘It seems that the chair can be used,’ she said gently. ‘Sophie, fetch Peter from his duties, please. I’ll need him to help me.’

  Sophie, who lived in the hope that one day she and Peter would marry, went off sulkily to fetch him. She knew that he’d derive great sexual excitement and satisfaction during the course of Monique’s ordeal, but there was nothing she could do about it. The rules always had to be obeyed.

  When Peter appeared, Monique started towards the small door that led out of the kitchen and up the backstairs of the west wing of the chateau. On the top floor was the room where the punishment chair was kept, and the higher they climbed the greater the difficulty Monique had in keeping herself from falling because her legs were trembling with fear.

  Cassandra unlocked the door with a key hanging from her waist, and then stepped to one side so that Monique had to enter the room of her own accord. This too was part of the punishment, that the girl must be seen to embrace her chastisement willingly.

  In the middle of the bare floor, beneath an unlit spotlight, there was a strange chair. Its high back was made of solid oak with two round holes set half-way up on each side, while the tapestry seat seemed a little higher than was usual for a chair. The chair legs were very long, and an adjustable round metal ring was set near the foot of each of the front ones. There were no arms.

  Cassandra, who had herself been forced to sit in the chair when she had annoyed the baron by keeping his guests waiting one weekend while she decided what dress to wear, understood very well what Monique must be going through.

  ‘Take off your clothes,’ she said crisply.

  ‘Peter, once she’s naked, fasten her wrists behind her back with some leather cuffs.’ Peter quickly fetched the cuffs from a chest of drawers at the side of the room, and then pulled the maid’s arms behind her and manacled the wrists together, pulling her arms back hard so that her breasts jutted forward.

  ‘Now remove the chair seat,’ Cassandra said quietly.

  Monique gave a small moan, quickly stifled in case this increased the duration of her punishment. Once Peter had lifted off the tapestry seat a strange underseat was revealed. It was shaped rather like the seat of a commode but lined with soft sheepskin while in the middle there was a hole, whose purpose Monique remembered only too well.

  Before she could start to struggle, Peter had seized her around her bare waist and then twisted her so that she was facing the back of the chair. Now the reason for the holes there became clear as he pressed the white-skinned maid’s small breasts up against them and then manipulated the tender tissue until her nipples protruded through to the other side.

  Once her breasts were correctly in place it meant that she was sitting in such a way that the hole in the sheepskin seat left her entire vulva exposed to any stimulation from beneath the chair, and as she wriggled to try and alter this slightly, Cassandra bent the girl’s legs back from the knee and then clipped the rings round her ankles.

  She was now fastened in such a way that her chin could just rest on the top of the back of the chair, her breasts were imprisoned in the holes and her belly was tilted slightly forward, opening her sex lips a little wider because of the way her ankles were fastened. With her arms manacled behind her there was nothing she could do to change her position or alter the tension on her breasts and abdomen, nor could she see anything that was going on in the room behind her.

  Cassandra walked round to the back of the chair and looked down at the maid’s face, noting the trembling lips and wide, scared eyes. ‘Are you quite sure you wish to remain on our staff, Monique?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, Madame,’ stammered the maid.

  ‘Very well. Peter, you must stay here with her for the day. Keep her breasts stimulated and don’t allow her to become too cool between her thighs. The baron will return at five tonight. He wishes to see to Monique then
, before he has his dinner.’

  Monique heard the words ‘Five tonight’ and her whole body trembled. She’d never had to endure the chair for longer than three hours before. This meant nearly seven hours; seven hours during which she would be aroused but given no respite. She wondered how she was going to manage. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Cassandra calmly. ‘You’ve been well trained now. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t consider you capable. Use only your hands, mouth and penis on her, Peter. The baron will use the mechanical devices later.’ ‘Madame, it was an accident!’ Monique called out as Cassandra left, but the baron’s mistress ignored her. It had still been clumsy and that had irritated her lover. The girl was lucky not to have been dismissed, and in any case she would be interested to see how Monique coped with the day and what her reaction would be when the baron returned. It would give Cassandra an idea of how long it might take to train Nicola to the chair once she arrived. Somehow she doubted if a young innocent girl from England would ever manage to master the techniques necessary for such control, and if she didn’t, then Cassandra was safe.

  The baron returned promptly at five that evening in high spirits. He had checked his estate, learnt that the breeding programme of his black swans was going well, and then had a long, indulgent lunch with his Austrian financial advisor. Now it was time for some fun.

  He went to his room, changed into beige flannels and a short-sleeved white shirt which he left open at the neck and then, using the backstairs, hurried to the punishment room. As he had anticipated, Peter was there with the redheaded maid. He was so busy suckling on her small red nipples extending through the holes in the wood that he failed to hear his master enter the room.

  ‘Leave her now,’ said the baron curtly. Peter jumped, accidentally grazing one of the maid’s already tender nipples and making her squeal. The baron turned his head and gave her a look of displeasure that effectively silenced her.