Cassandra's Chateau

by Fredrica Alleyn

  ‘How has she been?’ he asked casually.

  ‘She’s done well,’ conceded Peter. ‘She’s cried and carried on quite a lot, but she hasn’t made any mistakes.’

  ‘Excellent! Leave us now, and send Cassandra to join me.’

  Monique, whose body had never before been the recipient of such prolonged and varied attentions, looked up at the baron appealingly. She knew that although she’d managed to obey all instructions so far it was now that she would finally pay the price for the broken Limoges jug. This man and his mistress were diabolical in the skilful way they could punish; in the end she would forget the pain and fear they engendered because there was always also a strange, dark, unspeakable pleasure that Monique could never imagine finding in any other household.

  She heard the door behind her open. ‘Come in, my dear,’ said the baron silkily. ‘It’s time for us to attend to Monique ourselves.’

  Cassandra, entering from the main doorway, saw Monique’s shaking back and noted also the way in which she was staring up at the baron. It was no secret in the chateau that the small redheaded maid was obsessed by her employer, but at times like this Cassandra wondered what it was about him that could charm so many women, no matter what they endured at his hands.

  The baron sat on a low stool behind the chairback and carefully took the long protruding nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently so that they swelled even more and turned a darker shade of red.

  He could tell from their colour that Peter had been spending a lot of time on her breasts, but at this moment they were not swollen to their full size, and he gestured with his head for Cassandra to fetch all the equipment necessary to enable them to put the final touches to the maid’s punishment.

  Monique was unable to see any of the items placed by the baron’s feet; all she was aware of was the terrible fullness of her bladder and bowels, the tight aching of her thigh and calf muscles from their hours of immobility and the dreadful sexual tension that Peter had kept at a steady level the entire time, without once allowing her the relief of a climax.

  Now she no longer wanted one because she had too many other sensations to worry about and was afraid she would lose control of all her bodily functions if she became lost in one of the shattering climaxes the baron and his mistress could engender.

  The baron poured some body lotion into his hands and carefully worked it into the fastened maid’s breasts, working around the undersides of the globes and then up round the sides before finally massaging it into the nipples themselves. He worked steadily and with intense concentration, until her nipples were more pliant than he could ever remember and she was moaning softly as her breasts swelled to fill the holes and the edges cut into her tender skin.

  Now the baron caught hold of the end of each nipple and pulled them towards him, extending them to their limit before releasing them and watching the changes of expression on Monique’s face. Her eyes would widen as she felt the hard pulling throb that caused an ache to grow inside her distended stomach and then she would look bewildered as the nipples were released and the ache died away. After a time, when he judged her fully aroused there, the baron ordered Cassandra to come and continue the breast stimulation while he turned his attention elsewhere.

  ‘Please, I can’t wait much longer,’ Monique whispered to Cassandra, but she simply stroked the girl’s brow before continuing to softly caress the tightly trapped breasts. She knew Monique was right, but there was nothing Cassandra could do to change what was going to happen, and in any case she could feel her own rising excitement as Monique grew more and more frantic as the baron busied himself behind her.

  ‘Now, Monique,’ he said softly.

  ‘As you know, to break Limoges china is a serious offence, which is why you are being punished severely. However, I understand that you have personal limitations, and since I do not wish for any unpleasant accident to occur during the next few minutes I shall assist you in the matter of control. Perhaps you would care to thank me for my thoughtfulness?’ he added with a low laugh.

  Monique knew what was expected of her. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she managed to whisper, while her body shook still more violently.

  The baron smiled over the imprisoned maid’s body to where Cassandra was standing and she smiled back at him. Very softly he lubricated a T-shaped anal plug and then before Monique knew what was happening he slid a hand beneath the cheeks of her bottom and with a deft turn of the fingers the plug was safely inserted into her rectum.

  Monique screamed at the cool invasion into an area that already felt overburdened and uncomfortable, but as soon as she screamed the baron put his hand back beneath her and moved the T-bar from side to side so that the probe inside her touched her inner walls and her bowels went into a painful spasm.

  ‘Be silent!’ he cautioned her, and this time she managed to remain quiet.

  At this point, the baron allowed himself to let a hand stray beneath the seat of the chair so that he could test her exposed vulva for himself. As he’d anticipated she was very damp there, her juices clearly flowing with arousal despite her apparent discomfort.

  Peter had done his work well, reflected the baron, and this girl was more than ready for what was to come. For a few moments he let his fingers swirl along the damp flesh and despite her discomfort and fear Monique found that she was pressing down towards this delicate and welcome pressure, but as a result her breasts pulled painfully, trapped in the holes of the chairback and she had to stay where she was, unable to increase the stimulation herself.

  ‘I think I know what you need here,’ murmured the baron to himself, and Cassandra watched with rising excitement as he placed a tall rod set in a heavy base beneath the chair. At the top of the rod there were claw-like extensions and at the pinnacle of each extension a tiny soft, multi-bristled tip like a small electric toothbrush. Carefully, the baron adjusted it so that the brushes were exactly where he wanted them to be.

  Monique had no idea of what he was doing beneath the chair; all that she could feel was the cool dispassionate touch of his fingers as he pulled on her outer sex lips and felt his way around between her inner lips in order to get everything aligned to his satisfaction, so that she was left with a strange pressure from the motionless bristles.

  Once this was done he left her for a moment and then picked up a twin-action portable massager. One of the heads had rigid mini-fingers that gave a strong kneading massage when the machine was turned on, while the other head was made up of six rolling balls each individually spring-loaded to give an entirely different but equally stimulating sensation.

  Now he had reached the moment he had been waiting for all day. He signalled for Cassandra to stand up so that she could watch what was going on while still kneading at the imprisoned maid’s breasts. Then he moved so that Monique could see him, and see also what was in his hand.

  ‘I’m going to use this on your stomach, Monique,’ he said, his voice almost caressing. Then he slid the flat of one hand between her swollen belly and the chairback and pressed on it for a moment. At the increased pressure on her bladder and engorged pelvic area, Monique couldn’t suppress a tiny cry, but even as she gave it she felt sharp fingers of delight shooting through her and deep inside her exposed vulva a heavy pulse started to throb.

  The baron could feel the hardness of her bunched muscles, the straining of the flesh beneath his fingers and knew that the machine would provoke her senses beyond her control. Carefully he eased her back a little to make room for the machine, and then switched it on.

  The multi-fingered end he positioned at the very base of her stomach, in order for it to massage across the tissue that protected her bladder, while at the same time moving the flesh in such a way that her clitoral hood was pulled back and the clitoris itself exposed and indirectly stimulated. At the same time, the more gentle movements of the rolling balls titillated her entire pelvic area, already swollen and heavy with desire and within seconds of the machine starting, Monique was making mo
aning sounds of a very different kind.

  Watching, Cassandra felt her own breasts swell just as the maid’s were swelling in her hands, and in the pit of her stomach was a heavy ache such as she knew must be swamping Monique. She felt almost weak with desire for the baron, for relief from her rising need, and because she had now been with him for so long she was no longer ashamed of her need or the fact that it was Monique’s bitter-sweet punishment causing it.

  At a sign from the baron, Cassandra released one of the maid’s breasts and bent down to switch on the multi-bristled machine just beneath her unsuspecting and protruding vulva. For Monique, the sudden movement of the many-headed brushes against all her most sensitive spots was like the switching on of an electric current. As the bristles tickled at the opening of her vagina, swept around the unprotected clitoris itself and danced over the paper-thin membrane that surrounded the opening to her urethra, she began to pant and groan while sweat beaded her upper lip and formed a slick film down her back.

  ‘Non! Non!’ she gasped, feeling the sensations gathering together and forming what she always imagined to be a tiny white pinprick of light somewhere between her thighs, a light that she knew would grow and grow until it filled her belly and breasts and would finally explode in a shattering sensation that she sometimes feared would destroy her.

  ‘Control yourself, Monique,’ said the baron coldly. ‘You know very well that you must keep silent.’

  Cassandra swallowed, her mouth and throat dry and her heart racing as she watched the maid’s eyes widening and gazing up at her in despair as the stimulation continued and her body refused to be disciplined any longer.

  The baron pressed the twin-headed massager more firmly against the straining stomach and heard the sharp hiss of indrawn breath as she squirmed within the limits of her bonds, but there was no way she could escape any of the relentless arousal.

  Now it was time for the final touch from the baron. Without lessening the friction of the machine on her stomach he used his free hand to trail a leather tawse downthemaid’ssweat-coveredspine. Monique gasped, and tried to press herself forward to escape it, with the result that her belly was massaged more deeply and her breasts more tightly imprisoned, while beneath her the gentle bristles continued to twist and turn against her most erogenous zones.

  ‘Keep still,’ the baron instructed. Monique froze. The baron smiled to himself and let the tawse rest at the very base of the spine, in the gap where her buttocks began. He looked carefully at his victim and saw that she was almost at the point of no return.

  Despite all her efforts Monique was making tiny gasping sounds and her head was beginning to arch backwards as her muscles prepared to go into the rigidity of orgasmic release.

  Cassandra, knowing as well as her lover what was happening, suddenly stopped massaging the maid’s breasts and instead slapped them across the undersides. The shock precipitated the beginnings of Monique’s climax, but just as she felt it rolling over her, felt the tension reaching its peak and the white hot heat of the glorious light surging all over her body, the baron pushed the machine beneath the punishment chair away with his foot and then swirled the tawse in a circular dance right at the very bottom of the spine, where the nerve endings led directly to the bladder.

  To Monique’s horror this last diabolical touch proved impossible to resist and even as she was racked by the most intense orgasm she’d had yet in the chateau, she lost control of herself and felt the hot liquid gushing from her and splashing onto the bare boards beneath.

  Both the baron and Cassandra continued the stimulation until Monique was limp and sobbing, her body still being shaken by unwanted small climaxes that her flesh couldn’t resist. Finally, just when Monique thought she could bear no more, they stopped.

  ‘You did well,’ said the baron calmly as he and Cassandra eased the red, chafed breasts back through the holes, unfastened her ankles and wrists and lifted her from the chair. ‘Now you can sit on the stool here, with the T-bar in I think, and watch us for a few minutes. After that it will be time for you to go and get ready to serve us dinner.’

  Monique had imagined that her ordeal was over, but when she sat on the hard stool and felt the rectal probe within her she was amazed to feel fresh stirrings of desire and had to watch, heavy-eyed, as the baron pushed Cassandra down onto all fours, bending her arms so that her forehead was touching the boards, and then he was reaching round her and Monique was forced to listen to the sounds of Cassandra’s rising excitement.

  For Cassandra this was always the best moment of all: to know that Monique was watching, still desiring the baron, still heavy with need, and yet forced to watch him satisfying another woman. With a flash of insight she knew that one day she would make sure Nicola was in Monique’s place.

  Then all that was forgotten as the baron’s fingers pushed aside her G-string, found her soaking bud of pleasure and skimmed along the sides before flicking at the very base of the stem, where she most loved to be stimulated. As all her pent-up excitement was allowed to burst into fruition, Cassandra threw back her head and cried out in ecstasy while her lover lunged into her from behind, his hands gripping her waist in order to keep her still under the power of his thrusts.

  Today he seemed even stronger than usual, and he allowed Cassandra to climax four times before finally coming himself with the almost imperceptible intake of breath which was all he allowed himself in front of any of the servants.

  As soon as he had finished he withdrew, helped Cassandra to her feet and then left the room. It was left to Cassandra to help the trembling Monique off the stool, remove the T-bar from her back passage and then assist her into her clothes.

  Monique, her eyes still glazed with sensation and passion, looked at the baron’s mistress and wondered how she could seem so composed and calm as she helped her to dress. A few minutes earlier she’d been screaming and bucking against the baron in total sexual abandon, and yet now she looked almost virginal again.

  ‘I hope you’ve learnt your lesson, Monique,’ Cassandra said as the girl made her way towards the backstairs. ‘Only next time you will have to stay in the chair longer, and an enema might even be included.’

  Monique shivered. She’d heard of such things from Sophie and had no wish to endure them herself. ‘Yes, Madame,’ she whispered. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Good, and make sure your hair is washed and tidy before dinner tonight. You look a mess at the moment.’

  ‘Of course, Madame,’ apologised Monique, wanting only to be gone from the room with all its memories.

  Cassandra relented. ‘Very well, you may go now.’

  The maid rushed from the room and Cassandra gave a soft sigh. It had been fun, and the girl had clearly enjoyed herself at the end, but she was beginning to understand Dieter’s excitement at the prospect of Nicola’s visit. To work on genuinely innocent flesh would be unbelievably erotic, and her earlier fears vanished at the thought of the excitement which lay ahead.

  Chapter Three

  Nicola Desmond sat in the back of the chauffeur driven Mercedes that the baron had sent to collect her from the airport and stared out of the window. The scenery was breathtaking, the wide Loire river with its islands of woods and the incredible beauty of some of the most famous of the valley’s chateaux, which the driver pointed out to her as they passed, all seemed like something out of a fairy tale.

  Wearing a mauve and green madras check cotton dress with short sleeves and a simple round neckline, the English girl looked as innocent as she was. This sudden departure to France to stay with one of her father’s friends was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in her entire twenty years. She pictured the unknown baron as a contemporary of her father’s; a white-haired, impeccably mannered member of the aristocracy whose way of life would be just as slow and boring as her father’s, but at least in a more exotic setting and without any military library for her to catalogue.

  The Mercedes left the main road they’d been on for the past
half hour and now the chauffeur slowed his speed as they followed a narrow twisting lane which was overhung by trees. Suddenly the car emerged from the shadows into brilliant sunlight and Nicola gasped as she looked out across a large blue lake and saw a white, three-storey, Renaissance-style chateau on the far side. It was so exquisite it seemed unreal, and its reflection in the water made it look as though there was a twin chateau upside down, beneath it. ‘There you are,’ said the chauffeur, with a smile at her obvious delight. ‘The baron’s chateau. That’s the back you can see from here. We have to drive around the lake to reach the entrance. The driveway itself is four hundred metres long.’

  ‘It’s very isolated,’ murmured Nicola.

  ‘He prefers it that way.’

  ‘I suppose men like their peace as they get older,’ replied Nicola. The chauffeur didn’t respond.

  When they reached the huge, wrought-iron gates at the entrance to the chateau, a man emerged from a small gatehouse and opened up the gates to allow them in. They then swept along the gravel drive and around an immaculate square of lawn until they came to a halt outside the front door.

  As Nicola clambered out of the car, her dress sticking to her bare legs and clinging tightly across her breasts where her skin was damp with perspiration, she glanced around in excitement at the vast grounds and dense copses, and for the first time felt grateful that her father had decided to marry Lara.

  For the baron, looking out of a second-storey bedroom, it was an equally exciting moment. This girl, with her corn-coloured hair cut in an old-fashioned pageboy style and her expensive but plain dress, was quite clearly totally unaware of herself as a sensual being. The manner in which she scrambled from the car, her slightly awkward walk and the way she kept her head down gave off no hint of sexuality. He sighed with pleasurable anticipation.

  Next to him, Cassandra also watched intently. Wearing a calf-length cream skirt with long vents at the back and sides, teamed with a matching scoop-necked over-tunic, and her small waist emphasised by a thick brown woven leather belt, she knew that she looked elegant yet casual. She’d chosen her clothes carefully; they were intended to impress without overwhelming the newcomer. She also wanted to look sophisticated yet friendly.