Discipline of the Private House (12 page)

'Your loyal servant,' he said, and kissed the leather seat where she sat and from which she controlled the Chateau. 'Your most loyal servant.'

Someone was coming. It must be the Chatelaine. He stood up, replaced the martinet on the desk, and waited.

There was a knock on the door. Not the Chatelaine, then.

'Enter,' he called.

Nicole and Isabelle came into the room. 'Robert,' they said, almost in unison. 'What are you doing in here on your own?'

'The same as you, I expect. Waiting to be given more instructions about our two new arrivals.'

'Madame seems very taken with them,' Isabelle said. 'Are they as promising as the rumours say?'

The Chatelaine strode through the open door. 'You will see for yourself in a few moments, Isabelle,' she announced.

No matter how many times he saw her, Robert was always dazzled anew by her beauty, her poise, her elegance, and her air of authority. Today she was wearing a gown of bias-cut grey silk that clung to her slender body. It covered her from neck to wrists to ankles, and yet was so sheer and precisely tailored that every contour was visible. He could discern through the material not only her nipples but also the areolae around them. He was so enthralled that he almost failed to hear her address him.

'Yes, madame?' he said.

'It would appear, Robert, that you are a little overexcited.' The Chatelaine pointed with a slim finger at the protrusion at the front of Robert's trousers. 'Would you care to be relieved of that before we proceed with the day's business?'

Robert was pleased to note that he felt not a twinge of embarrassment; instead he was proud and grateful that she had noticed his state of arousal. He lifted his gaze to meet hers; her perfect lips bestowed on him the hint of a smile. Did he dare to suggest that she might like to touch his swelling manhood? Just the thought of her cool fingers around his shaft made him harder. But no; she would not favour him so publicly. He and she understood each other. 'I am at your disposal, madame,' he said.

'Then go and take one of the slaves,-' the Chatelaine said. 'But don't take long about it. The Canadian girl, Ailsa, is being trained today in the cellar of the Square Tower. You can have her in any way you choose, I believe. Her attendants will keep her aroused.'

'May I have Isabelle, madame?' he asked. With trepidation he added, 'Here, across your desk?'

The Chatelaine thought for a moment. She looked at Isabelle. The other woman looked back, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. Isabelle was almost as tall as the Chatelaine, and as slender. Although she was dark, while the Chatelaine was blonde, Robert had found that whenever he had occasion to fuck Isabelle he could imagine that he was fucking his mistress.

'Yes, Robert, of course you may have her. You will have no objection if Nicole and I watch. And be quick; we have things to do today. Isabelle, position yourself at the desk.'

Isabelle removed her skirt. She was wearing nothing else but stockings, shoes, and a cropped, halter-necked top of sheer muslin. She stood in front of the desk, moved her stiletto-heeled feet apart, and bent forwards from the waist until her breasts were pressed against the polished wood. She curved her back downwards so that her hips were pushed back and her bottom was raised invitingly.

Robert unbuttoned the flap at the front of his trousers; his erection sprang free. He clutched the shaft and stroked it as he surveyed Isabelle: her dark curls were spread around her head where she was resting it on the desk, but he could see the blue glint of her eyes and the edge of her smile. She was expecting to enjoy a quick fuck. He could see that her shaven labia were already glistening and slightly parted. The absence of dark pubic hair made her sex reminiscent of the Chatelaine's, the pale hairs of which were kept closely trimmed. Isabelle's buttocks, too, resembled the Chatelaine's in their slim whiteness.

'She needs to be punished, first.' Robert's voice was thick. He cleared his throat. 'You will remember, madame, that she failed to address me by my correct title when she spoke to me a few moments ago.'

'If you wish, Robert.' The Chatelaine sounded as though she thought this would be a tiresome delay, but Robert had noticed her eyes had widened at his suggestion. He knew that the Chatelaine always enjoyed watching him administer discipline. It occurred to him that perhaps she, too, had realised that Isabelle's resemblance to her would make this punishment a reminder of the night they had spent together.

Emboldened by t^is thought, Robert made one more request. 'And, madame,' he said, 'may I use your martinet? It's just here.'

Isabelle lifted her head from the desk and exclaimed in protest. The Chatelaine's martinet, with its three leather straps each as heavy as a belt, was a feared implement even among the well-disciplined staff of the Chateau.

Tsabelle has work to do today, Robert,' the Chatelaine said. Tt will be difficult to avoid marking her if you use the martinet.'

Robert was about to yield; his hand was moving to the short strap which he kept at his side when he realised that the Chatelaine hadn't precisely denied his request.

T believe the martinet is appropriate, madame. It will be entertaining to watch Isabelle's buttocks turn bright pink and then dark red as I thrash them.' Robert knew how to appeal to the Chatelaine's desires. 'And she and I will both derive greater pleasure from my penetration of her if her bottom is made very tender before I thrust against it. I can achieve quickly with the martinet a level of sensitivity that would take much longer with a lesser instrument. And if Isabelle is marked, what of it? She will, I'm sure, wear the stripes and bruises with pride.'

'Very well,' the Chatelaine said. 'You've persuaded me. You are my right hand, Robert. I can't refuse you these little rewards. Nicole, you had better stand on the other side of the desk and hold Isabelle down. She is certain to struggle once she feels the martinet. Robert, would you like to tie Isabelle's ankles to the feet of the desk, to keep her legs apart?'

'I will do so only if it becomes necessary, madame,' Robert replied. 'I have disciplined Isabelle several times and I think she can be relied on to maintain her position.'

He took the martinet from the desk, weighed it in his grip, and flicked it experimentally a couple of times. He turned to see that the Chatelaine, with a pensive expression on her face, was stroking Isabelle's rounded bottom. Robert stared at the calm beauty of her features; the perfection of her body. She looked up, and their gazes locked together for a few long moments.

The Chatelaine looked away. Tsabelle is quite wet,' she said. 'Ignore her protests. I think she's in the mood for this. You may start now.'

Robert took up a position behind Isabelle. I love you, my Chatelaine, he thought; the strength of my arm and the vigour of my manhood will demonstrate my love for you. I know you understand that I am doing this for you.

He lifted his arm, and then the martinet whipped through the air.

The harness was a complicated network of leather straps and metal buckles and rings.

'You must wear it, Barat,' Isabelle said, 'if you wish to be present when we start Olena's education. The Chatelaine wishes it. And I know you have promised to obey the Chatelaine.'

Barat stood, naked, in the centre of the small room which he was becoming familiar with as his bedchamber. With his hands cupped over his groin he was trying to preserve a last shred of modesty and to conceal the fact that his manhood was stiffening.

He told himself that it was the presence of a stranger, the young woman Isabelle, in her provocatively diaphanous costume, that was arousing him. It was true that as she moved about the room he couldn't fail to notice that she was wearing nothing under her gauzy skirt; the undulations of her slender buttocks; her slim thighs, glimpsed whenever the crossover skirt fell open; her small breasts, bouncing under the filmy material of her abbreviated blouse. The idea of seeing Olena again was also exciting, and the vagueness of Isabelle's descriptions of the programme of teaching that the Chatelaine had devised for Olena made the prospect even more enticing.

But to be made to wear a harness ... He felt his penis twitch upwards a little more as he stole a glance at the contraption on the bed.

'Move your hands, Barat,' Isabelle said teasingly. 'Let me see what you're hiding.'

Barat closed his qyes, disengaged his fingers and allowed his hands to fall to his sides. He could feel the heat of the blushing on his cheeks. Only his penis, which continued to swell and rise, seemed oblivious to his embarrassment.

Isabelle touched him. He felt her fingers at his shoulder, on his chest, then on his hip.

'You're not a bad-looking young man,' she whispered. Tall. Strong. And big.'

Her fingers had closed around his shaft. He opened his eyes to find her face in front of his. She was smiling. Her tongue appeared briefly, to touch her lower lip. He stared into her bright eyes.

'Did you enjoy licking Nicole?' she said, and started to move her hand slowly up and down his rigid column.

He nodded.

'If you let me put the harness on you, I'll let you lick me, too, before we go to join the others. That would be a fair exchange, wouldn't it?'

'Yes, I think so,' he said. Even the overwhelming sensations caused by Isabelle's hand had not robbed him of all his cunning. He had remembered that he was in a place inhabited by people who thought as he did. 'I need to come, however. I fear I may not be able to control myself later unless my urgent need is addressed now.'

Isabelle's fingers circled his glans. Her thumb tapped the narrow slit as she considered his request. 'No, that will not be possible,' she concluded. Her nose was almost touching his as she stared into his eyes. 'The harness will help to restrain your urges. However, if you carry yourself well while we interview Olena, then perhaps I will reward you afterwards.'

Barat managed to keep his voice level, even though he was aware that his legs were trembling and he could concentrate on almost nothing but the movements of Isabelle's clever fingers. 'I accept your offer,' he said. 'It will be sufficient, I think, for you merely to repeat what you are doing now. But I also think that you are being a little too strict with me, and therefore I should correct you. I will spank your bottom before you touch me and make me come.'

Isabelle's eyes widened, and then half shut as she smiled wryly. 'I fear that will be inconvenient,' she said. 'My poor little bottom is already very sore. But you can pinch my nipples and smack my breasts, as long as you are quite gentle and use your fingers to make me wet and make me come.'

'Yes, I'd like to do that.'

'Very well,' she whispered. 'Now,' she said briskly as she released his penis, 'lift your arms slightly and I'll put the harness on you.'

The thickest leather strap was a belt, which Isabelle buckled tightly around Barat's waist. Metal rings were set into the leather at regular intervals around the circumference. Isabelle then knelt in front of Barat and took care to fondle and kiss his straining erection as she clipped to the front ring a thinner strap attached to which were other loops of thin leather.

Barat soon discovered that the loops were designed to contain and restrain his testicles and the stem of his cock. Isabelle tugged fiercely on the buckles as she imprisoned Barat's genitalia, causing him to cry out as the thongs gripped his most delicate parts. Isabelle laughed.

She stood to admire her handiwork. Barat's testicles were separated by a thin strap; another circled behind them, making them protrude like shiny plums. Another strap was fastened around the base of his penis, which seemed to Barat harder and larger than he had ever seen it. Like his testicles, it looked swollen and was an angry red.

Isabelle had not finished. A tail of leather still hung from behind Barat's scrotum, and Isabelle went behind him to pull it up between the cheeks of his bottom and clip it to the back of the waist-strap. Barat gasped as the pressure on his testicles increased.

'One final thing,' Isabelle said, and picked up a small collar that Barat had not even noticed. 'You'll be wearing your robe when you see Olena, of course, and you wouldn't want her to see any curious swelling, would you?'

Barat gasped again as Isabelle fastened the collar around the neck of his penis, just under the flanged head. It felt cruelly tight. Then she attached a clip to the buckle of the collar and, pulling his erection into a vertical position, she clipped the collar to the front of the waist-strap.

'There. When you're wearing your robe, your cock will be completely under control now, no matter how excited you become. No one will know. But
you
won't be able to forget for a moment.'

Barat stared helplessly down at his tightly trussed cock and balls. He took an experimental step. The straps were certainly uncomfortable but threatened to be actually painful only if he moved quickly.

'I can hardly walk,' Barat complained.

'Don't be a baby,' Isabelle scolded him. 'Sometimes the Chatelaine uses a harness like this when she's training the male slaves,' she added thoughtfully, 'or when punishing one of the servants. Some of the guests volunteer for it, of course. She uses a small many-tailed whip, a very thin, light cane, or a narrow strap. I'm told it's excruciatingly painful. But the men are always very ready to come afterwards.' She ran her fingernails lightly down the length of his hardness and across the taut skin of his divided scrotal sac. 'And just be grateful that I wasn't instructed to put anything up your arsehole before strapping you in.'