Cassandra's Chateau

by Fredrica Alleyn

  ‘Well?’ enquired the baron softly.

  Cassandra ignored the question. ‘I think we should go down and welcome her.’

  ‘Of course. Are all the cameras correctly in position?’

  ‘I checked them myself. Everything Nicola does will be filmed.’ ‘Except in my room,’ murmured the baron.

  Cassandra felt a fluttering of fear. She hadn’t allowed herself to picture the newcomer alone with the baron, in total privacy. ‘Except in your room,’ she agreed.

  He smiled to himself, knowing that for once he’d managed to disturb her normally impenetrable façade. ‘Let us go then,’ he said, brushing her cheek with his lips before gently propelling her out of the room.

  Nicola heard the sound of Cassandra’s sandals on the landing above the entrance hall and looked up at the couple as they descended the wide staircase. Her first thought was that the young woman, so carefully groomed and poised, would probably find her just as irritating as Lara had, and she suddenly wished she’d never left London. Then, as the baron crossed the tiled hall and took her hand in his, pressing her fingers warmly as he introduced himself, she immediately changed her mind.

  It seemed impossible that this handsome, smiling, brown-eyed man, who was probably little more than forty, could be a friend of her father’s. Tiny butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she gazed at him and felt the full force of his charismatic charm.

  For Cassandra, watching from behind her lover, Nicola’s feelings were very clear. The gentle pink glow that suffused her cheeks, the awkward shifting of her feet as Dieter held her gaze a fraction longer than was normal, were all clear pointers that the subtle seduction had already begun.

  Suddenly the baron released Nicola’s hand and stepped back a pace, his eyes sweeping over her as he made an assessment. ‘You look very hot and crumpled,’ he said shortly. ‘I like the women in my chateau to be well groomed at all times. Cassandra will have to help you; you clearly have a lot to learn about such things.’ Startled, Nicola glanced at Cassandra, her eyes reflecting her pain at the baron’s swift change of mood. Cassandra smiled reassuringly at her and moved to stand next to the girl.

  ‘Nicola’s had a long, tiring journey, Dieter. I’ll take her to her room so that she can rest and freshen up,’ she said placidly.

  The baron nodded. ‘We’re delighted to have you here, Nicola,’ he remarked, turning away, ‘but you will of course be expected to obey my house rules. I’m sure you can understand that, coming from a military family.’

  ‘I – yes, of course.’ Nicola could hardly speak she was so disconcerted and when Cassandra put a friendly arm round her shoulders and led her upstairs, she felt a surge of gratitude.

  ‘You do look very hot,’ said Cassandra sympathetically, leading Nicola into the bedroom which had been so carefully prepared for her. ‘There’s a bathroom next door, no one will use it but you. I’m sorry there’s no connecting door, but with very old buildings like this some changes just can’t be made.’

  ‘It really doesn’t matter,’ Nicola assured her. ‘This room’s gorgeous,’ she added.

  Cassandra smiled. ‘I hoped you’d like it. I chose the colour scheme for you myself.’

  The soft coral wallpaper and the snow-white curtains and bedspread looked wonderfully clean and bright to Nicola, whose bedroom in her father’s London home had been badly in need of decorating. She also liked the king-size bed, little realising that beneath the ruffled covers metal rings were already in place.

  ‘I’ll have Monique unpack for you while you bathe,’ said Cassandra. ‘If you’d like to take off your dress that can be laundered and returned to you by morning.’

  Nicola hesitated. She suddenly felt awkward, and there was a tension in the air that she couldn’t understand. She supposed it was her own shyness at the prospect of undressing in front of such a beautiful woman but as Cassandra continued to wait, smiling pleasantly, Nicola felt she had no choice.

  As she unfastened the buttons at the front of the bodice and then pulled the garment over her head she revealed a slim, pale body unused to sunlight with unexpectedly full breasts that nearly overflowed from the slightly too small beige satin bra.

  Cassandra took the dress. ‘You can put your lingerie in the linen basket in the bathroom. It will be emptied each morning. Lunch will be in the courtyard since it’s such a lovely day. Wear anything that’s comfortable, but I should mention that we always dress formally for dinner.’

  Nicolanodded,hopingshe’dbroughtenough clothes. At home her father had rarely required her presence at his dinner table and she hadn’t expected the baron to be any different.

  ‘Cassandra, the baron mentioned rules,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘I wouldn’t like to offend him again, so perhaps you could tell me the important ones.’

  Cassandra nodded. ‘Of course. He’s very strict about punctuality; breakfast is at eight, lunch at twelve-thirty, dinner at eight-thirty. Another thing he’s very fussy about is knocking on doors. Apart from your own rooms you must never enter any room in the chateau without knocking first.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Nicola curiously.

  In his room the baron’s eyebrows went up and he leant towards the screen he was watching. He hadn’t anticipated questions from her at this stage.

  Cassandra shrugged. ‘Because the baron says so.’

  ‘But it doesn’t make sense. I mean, if a room is empty . . .’

  ‘If, after a short wait, you don’t get a reply then naturally you go in,’ said Cassandra. ‘It’s a question of privacy. You’ll learn too that not all of the baron’s rules make sense, but he still expects them to be obeyed. He believes it’s important for people to learn to take orders without questioning them, and in the process discover how to discipline themselves.’

  Nicola frowned, clearly not understanding. ‘Are there other rules I should know about?’

  ‘You’ll pick up a lot of them as you go along, but as you’ve already learnt, the baron is most particular about the way women appear. He likes them to be well groomed and attractively dressed at all times. He’s a connoisseur of beauty; ugliness in any form distresses him.’

  ‘Surely it’s what people are like, not how they appear, that matters,’ said Nicola earnestly.

  Cassandra stepped closer to her and touched her very lightly on her bare shoulders. ‘You’ve got a lovely figure; you must dress to show it off better.’

  Nicola stared into Cassandra’s dark eyes. ‘Most of my clothes are more functional than decorative,’ she responded. ‘They’re well made but . . .’

  ‘I’ll help you,’ Cassandra assured her. ‘We’ll take a shopping trip up to Paris together. Dieter will be delighted to let us use his private plane.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘You’d better have your bath now; it’s only half an hour to lunch-time.’

  ‘Where do I go when I’m ready?’

  ‘Just pull on the tasselled cord there. One of the maids will show you the way down. And Nicola.’

  ‘Yes?’

  Cassandra smiled more warmly than at any other time. ‘The baron and I are both so pleased that your father’s asked us to finish off your education for him.’

  In his bedroom the baron watched Nicola’s face as his mistress left the room. He was amused by her puzzled expression. It had been a clever remark by Cassandra, unsettling but not frightening, and he appreciated it. He had also appreciated Nicola’s virginal body; her slender limbs and surprisingly voluptuous breasts. The contrast with Cassandra’s smaller, tight breasts with their delicate nipples was stimulating. He thought that he’d probably begin with Nicola’s breasts.

  Cassandra returned to her bedroom and watched on the monitor as Nicola went into the bathroom. She stripped naked, then filled the tub with water. Her buttocks were small and tight, her legs slim and the triangle of pubic hair was a fine golden down. Watching her, Cassandra found it almost impossible to imagine Nicola writhing in ecstasy beneath the baron’s ministrations. There was no s
ign of sexuality in her body, and even when she soaped herself her movements were brisk and efficient; there was no lingering touch of her fingers on her dark nipples, nor between her thighs when she stood and soaped herself there.

  Cassandra wondered how Nicola would be able to bear the incredible pleasure she and the baron would give her; and as for the dark, bitter-sweet sensations that would follow her initiation, they seemed too farfetched even to contemplate. Yet it would happen, Cassandra knew, because that was what the game was all about.

  Her bath over, Nicola wrapped herself in a length of white towelling edged in pink that fastened around the top of her breasts with a velcro strip and returned to her bedroom. Her cases had already been unpacked and her clothes hung in the huge built-in wardrobe with mirrored doors.

  After some hesitation she selected a pair of mustard and green striped culottes, a short-sleeved embroidered cream blouse and a long mustard-coloured cardigan in case the sun went in, stepped into a pair of canvas shoes and then pulled on the cord.

  It was Sophie who came to lead her to the courtyard. She’d already heard about the young English girl from Peter, who’d driven her from the airport, and his enthusiastic remarks about her peaches and cream complexion and almost childlike delight in the drive made her sullen.

  ‘How many rooms are there in the chateau?’ asked Nicola, following the dark-haired maid along a corridor and down a flight of stairs.

  ‘Many, many rooms,’ murmured Sophie tonelessly.

  ‘It’s so beautiful! I can’t believe how lucky I am to be staying here.’

  Sophie, her face expressionless, held open one of the French doors that opened out into the courtyard and gestured for Nicola to step through. She wondered just how lucky the girl would think herself after a few more days here.

  Emerging into the brilliant sunlight Nicola blinked, trying to adjust her vision. There was a well in the middle of the cobbled courtyard, and over the top of the well long metal struts arched inwards to form a decorative lovers’ knot at the top, some six feet above the actual well. Dry-stone walls surrounded the square on two sides, while the third side was protected by a dense hedge that entirely blocked out any gentle breeze.

  As she walked hesitantly over the cobbles, Nicola saw that Cassandra and the baron were seated side by side in a canopied swing seat. Cassandra was wearing a high-cut swimsuit in an exotic tropical flower print with a matching loose shirt-style cover-up that was unbuttoned so that her long, slim legs, tanned and firm, were shown to their best advantage.

  Nicola was surprised that they didn’t seem to have heard her approaching, because the baron was slowly stroking his mistress’s right leg, his hand lingering near the top of her thigh where the swimsuit cut into the flesh and Cassandra’s head was thrown back against the top of the seat, her eyes closed in enjoyment.

  Nicola watched the way the baron’s hand moved, saw his lean fingers skimming over the tight skin and suddenly her whole body felt far too hot. The short-sleeved blouse could have been a woollen jumper from her skin’s reaction and her culottes, far from being cool, were heavy and clung to her legs as she walked.

  She cleared her throat softly and although Cassandra didn’t move the baron’s eyes flicked towards her and he smiled.

  ‘There you are at last. We were getting quite worried about you. It’s easy to get lost in the chateau.’

  Nicola’s mouth was dry and she couldn’t take her eyes away from the baron’s still moving hand.

  ‘One of your maids showed me the way,’ she muttered.

  With his free hand he gestured towards an empty garden chair where she could sit with her legs extended and her head protected from the sun by an overhanging top.

  ‘Lunch will be served in a few minutes.’

  The chair was positioned opposite the swing seat, and as Nicola sat down awkwardly on it, thrusting out her legs and leaning back against the cushioned headrest, she was very aware that the baron’s eyes never left her, even though his hand continued to caress Cassandra’s leg.

  For Cassandra, the insistent stimulation caused both pleasure and tension. The baron’s instructions had been clear; she could allow herself to become aroused but not to climax. He wanted Nicola to see Cassandra’s pleasure, but not the final result. Tonight he would touch the newcomer for the first time, let her flesh start to experience some of the secret delights that lay in store for it, but until then gentle subconscious arousal was his intention.

  Unfortunately for Cassandra he seemed particularly involved in his task and her breathing was already rapid when he let his thumb skim between her thighs, across the tightly stretched material of her costume and over her swollen nub of pleasure. She felt the heavy tightness at the base of her stomach and the pre-orgasmic tingles of impending release deep within her centre. Desperately she clenched her abdominal muscles, subduing their attempts at spasming with excitement and at the same time she forced her mind away from the sensations, thinking instead about the girl sitting opposite her.

  The baron felt Cassandra’s thighs tremble as her orgasm threatened to spill over, and he watched from beneath lowered lids as she successfully fought it off until at last her breathing returned to normal and only the droplets of perspiration in the hollow of her neck betrayed her silent conflict. He leant forward and licked them. Cassandra’s eyes opened and he smiled briefly into them before turning his full attention back to Nicola.

  She had watched the scene in wide-eyed astonishment. Cassandra’s flushed face and shallow breathing had been obvious to her, but the true meaning of it all had been beyond her understanding. What she did know was that her breasts felt too large for the constraints of her bra, her stomach was tense and her skin hot and uncomfortable. When the baron licked at Cassandra’s throat Nicola’s heart thudded loudly in her ears and she wished that someone would bring out their lunch and shatter the heavy, heat-filled silence in the courtyard.

  Just then Monique and Sophie emerged from an opening in the hedge. One was carrying a large silver tray of rolls, assorted cheeses, grapes and peaches while the other maid’s tray held two bottles of wine, a pitcher of lemonade and three ruby red glass tumblers as well as plates and knives. The trays were placed on a wooden table which the maids then lifted and left between Nicola’s chair and the swing seat.

  Languidly, Cassandra lifted her head and stared about her as though uncertain where she was. The baron half-filled a tumbler with Chardonnay and handed it to her.

  ‘Here, liebling, this should make you feel better.’

  Cassandra knew that it wouldn’t. Wine in moderation only increased her sexual desires, but she took the glass and drank some of the chilled liquid, savouring its distinctive bouquet.

  The baron smiled at Nicola. ‘Wine, or lemonade?’

  ‘Lemonade please. I’m so thirsty.’

  ‘The lemonade is certainly refreshing. You can try some of my wines at dinner tonight. I hope you like good wines?’

  ‘I don’t have much experience,’ admitted Nicola.

  Cassandra smiled at her. ‘You’ll soon learn,’ she said quietly and Nicola’s stomach tensed because the words, although innocent, sounded almost like a threat.

  ‘Come,’ said the baron briskly. ‘Eat, savour everything to the full. We believe in pleasure here. Do you enjoy eating, Nicola?’

  ‘I suppose so. I’m not fussy about my food, if that’s what you mean.’

  He frowned. ‘That wasn’t what I meant at all. Tell me, have you left a heartbroken lover behind in London?’

  Nicola, trying to cope with a crisp baguette, creamy brie and some grapes, wished he’d just ignore her. She felt so out of place with the pair of them and longed to retreat to her room as she frequently had done in London when she felt awkward and unsure. ‘No one at all,’ she confessed. ‘I hardly met up with any people of my own age in London. Daddy’s library took up my days, and in the evenings most of his friends were elderly or unsuitable.’

  ‘Unsuitable?’ queried Cassandra, who
’d now regained control of herself.

  ‘Before my mother died she apparently made my father promise to keep me safe from temptation. She didn’t want me growing up too fast. I think she was very religious.’

  ‘But you are nearly twenty-one! It is time for you to grow up now, would you not agree?’ asked the baron, his brown eyes fixed on her with a peculiar intensity.

  Nicola nodded. ‘Of course, but you can’t grow up on your own you know!’

  There was a sudden silence. Nicola looked at the baron and now his eyes were gleaming, as though there was a light behind them. ‘Your father understood that,’ he told her softly. ‘That is the reason you’re here, little one.’

  ‘To meet new people you mean?’ she asked eagerly.

  He sat back on the seat and steepled his fingers so that they were just touching the end of his chin.

  ‘To be awakened,’ he said softly.

  Nicola’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t believe she’d heard him right. ‘Awakened?’

  He nodded. ‘Your father has asked me to finish your education. To turn you into a complete woman. Doesn’t the idea appeal to you?’

  Both the baron and Cassandra were watching her closely and a wave of panic swept over Nicola. She jumped out of her chair and her plate fell to the cobblestones, shattering into hundreds of pieces. ‘I’m very tired,’ she gabbled, her legs shaking and her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. ‘If you’ll excuse me I think I’ll go to my room and lie down for the afternoon.’

  The baron nodded. ‘But of course. And do relax, my dear Nicola. Believe me, by the time you leave here you will be eternally grateful to your father.’

  Nicola turned on her heels and stumbled away, in through the French door and out of their sight.

  ‘Why did you tell her that?’ asked Cassandra.