Discipline of the Private House (19 page)

Olena shivered. 'Yes, thank you,' she said. 'I'll be quite happy sitting and reading. I'm sure I'll find something worthwhile to study.'

Nicole's dark eyes sparkled and her broad, red lips formed a grin. 'I'm sure you will,' she said. 'The volumes in the alcove opposite the fire are particularly noteworthy. Let me kiss you, my darling.'

Olena leaned forwards and offered her cheek, but Nicole lifted her hand and delicately adjusted Olena's face so that Olena's mouth met her lips. Olena was too shocked to move, and found her own lips softening and opening against Nicole's. And then Nicole turned, her heels clicked across the dark, varnished floor, and she was gone.

Perturbed and fearfully excited, Olena wandered along the towering shelves of books. She inspected the spines. She found works of philosophy and natural history; she found biographies and diaries of generals and statesmen. There were nfany books written in languages unknown to her; some she recognised as works in Latin and Greek.

She suspected that Nicole's knowing smile intimated that the books in the warmest alcove were dedicated to much less wholesome subjects, and would be all too easy to comprehend. She knew that she should select an educational tome from one of the long shelves and devote her time to self-improvement. Above all, she should resist the temptation to sit in the seductive warmth opposite the fire and look at the books that came readily to hand there. She knew what she should do, but it was impossible.

She put her fingers to her lips. Nicole's kiss had been gentle and full of kindness. She touched her breast, where Nicole had caressed it, and felt again the thrill of wicked pleasure. Everyone she had met in the Chateau was kind to her; Barat was devoted to educating her correctly; and all she could do was to respond with thoughts and feelings of the basest sort.

She stood in front of the fire, stared into the glowing embers, and let the heat pulse against her body until she began to feel faint. She made her decision. If she failed the tests that afternoon she would be punished again anyway; if she exposed herself to temptation and resisted, then she would be better prepared for the tests, and if she could not resist, then the punishment would be merited.

She turned and stood for a moment with her back to the fire. She parted her legs and mischievously pushed her bottom out, so that her buttocks and her secret places were heated by the glow. Then she went to sit in the alcove.

It was a warm, comfortable, hidden place. The ridges of thickly upholstered leather creaked as she sat down, and seemed to insinuate themselves between her buttocks. She reached behind her, pulled a book at random from a shelf, and placed it on the table in front of her. The thick, yellowing pages fell open. She leaned forwards and began to read.

'Still upright, eh?' the Viscount remarked. He grasped Henri's stiff member in his gloved hand and wrung a groan from the bound youth. 'Even so hard a flogging does not quench your vicious ardour. Milady, would you care to milk the lad while I introduce him to the pleasures of Sodom?'

Lady Marguerite exclaimed, and held her fan before her blushing face. 'Husband,' she said, 'would you have

me suck the seed from a stable boy? Although I do declare this one is a pretty fellow, and has carried himself well under the whip.'

'Use your hand, for all I care,' retorted the Viscount. 'I will purchase a new pair of lace gloves, if those you are wearing become soiled. But I will bugger the man, and I will have him spend as I take him.' He beckoned two of the servants who had been summoned to witness the punishment of one of their number. 'Cut him down from the beam,' the Viscount commanded. 'Clear the tack from that table, and bend him over it.'

Angelique, who had been rendered dumb at the surprise of being discovered with Henri, and had failed to recover her voice while her clothes had been torn from her and while she had been obliged to watch the cruel indignities that the Viscount had visited upon the
jesses
and manhood of her beloved swain, spoke up at last. 'My lord,' she cried, 'spare him further disgrace. The fault is mine as much as it is his.'

The Viscount and his graceful lady turned their cool gaze upon her. 'I had not supposed that you were innocent,' the Viscount said, 'and I had intended that your chastisement would certainly follow, albeit in a less public setting. But, as you seem intent on advertising your degradation, please tell the assembled company your part in this wicked deed.'

It was apparent to Angelique that the Viscount would not be diverted from administering his cruel justice to both Henri and herself. In spite of her lowly station she was a young woman of noble mind, however, and she could not permit Henri to suffer inequitably, when she knew the fault was hers.

Tt was I who invited Henri to meet me here in the stables,' she stated proudly. 'He had spoken complimentary words upon my bosom, and I proposed to him that if he were to meet me here, I would unlace and let him see.'

The Viscount came to stand before Angelique as she struggled in the grip of two of the kitchen maids. He

favoured her with a leering smile and used his riding-whip to agitate her breasts. 'And whose conceit was it that young Henri should produce his manhood and rub it between these two bountiful globes of beauty?' he enquired.

Angelique's face became as red as the Viscount's coat. 'Mine, my lord,' she confessed. 'I thought he might like it.'

The Viscount laughed. 'And so he did, my dear, or so it would seem. He's been as stiff as a pikestaff since I came through the door and found him ploughing that sweet furrow of yours.' He stared for several moments at Angelique's bosom, creating in the young woman a ferment of lust and trepidation.

'As it was those pretty, well-formed globes that lured Henri to his bestial act,' the Viscount pronounced, 'so shall the punishment fall on them. Before I submit Henri to a well-deserved rogering he shall see your tempting bubbies dance under my whip. Bring ropes!'

Olena had reached the end of a page. Her nipples felt as hard as the table against whose edge they were resting. The library had become oppressively warm, but still she found herself trembling. As she leaned back the leather of the seat creaked loudly, and seemed to be adhering to the most intimate parts of her. She leaned forwards again, and deliberately pressed her nipples against the table. She turned the page.

For several seconds Olena could not comprehend what she was seeing. The left-hand page of the two that were open in front of her contained text - the continuation of the narrative. But on the opposite page was a picture. The original had been skilfully drawn in pen and ink, and the reproduction in the book was a triumph of the printer's craft. Every detail of the many lewd acts that were depicted could be discerned. ^

When Olena realised what was in the picture she gasped and looked away. Her eyes were drawn back, inexorably, and she was constrained to inspect every part of the illustration. It was as thoroughly depraved as she had suspected. A young man - presumably the stable boy, Henri - was leaning over a bench. As he looked over his shoulder with wide-eyed anguish, his gaze seemed to be fixed on Olena. He was naked but for a waistcoat, which seemed to make him look even more vulnerable. His arms were held by two poorly dressed servants; his ankles were tied, far apart, to the legs of the bench. His buttocks, thrust into round prominence by his position, were criss-crossed with fine lines. A lady, dressed in voluminous, richly decorated skirts, was sitting jauntily on the bench and was reaching with one gloved hand between Henri's legs.

Olena felt a momentary pang of disappointment, which she guiltily suppressed, that the young man's penis, surely the object of the fine lady's attentions, was not visible in the picture.

Nearby, a young woman with tumbling locks of hair was tied to a post. This, Olena assumed, was Angelique, and her breasts, pushed forwards because her arms were tied behind the post, were almost as large as Olena's. She was wearing nothing but the ragged remains of a skirt that barely concealed her private parts but did not cover her long, shapely legs, one of which she had raised in a futile attempt to protect herself. A man with a moustache, a riding coat and a short, slender whip was standing beside her. The whip was raised; he was smiling benignly; she looked expectant.

Olena imagined the whip cutting through the air and landing on those perfect white half-spheres. She tried to imagine the pain. It was impossible: all she felt was a tingling tightness across the surface of her breasts, and tremors inside her that intensified as she wondered whether Barat would ever find it necessary to punish her by chastising her breasts.

She closed the book. She picked it up - it seemed heavier than when she had chosen it - and replaced it on the shelf behind her. To do this she had to stand, and she closed her eyes and blushed with shame as she felt her secret parts peel from the leather seat. She was wet again, and she knew now that such wetness was the most certain indication that she was being particularly wicked.

Nonetheless, she pulled down another book. This was a smaller volume, bound in black leather, and unlikely, she thought, to contain any shocking illustrations. As she sat down she parted her thighs, and felt her buttocks and her sex opened by a ridge of cool leather. She began to read.

Tuesday, 19 May

Lisa is getting more submissive by the day. This morning she brought coffee to my room, and asked very meekly if she could play with her favourite thing while I drank it. I had to drink quickly, or I would have come! She is learning very quickly how to please me with her fingers - and her mouth, for that matter.

As soon as I set the cup down she was on her knees at the bedside asking for her morning spanking. She looked so pretty, and so anxious to please, that I would have granted her request even if spanking Lisa wasn't the thing I like doing most in the world. She jumped on to the bed like an eager puppy, and laid her naked body across my lap. Today I didn't need to remind her to move her legs apart, and to push up that sweet, petite rump of hers. The stripes from last night had faded almost completely, but, even so, as she was being so good I didn't smack hard enough to mark her.

In fact, I was very gentle, and I gave her as much fingering as spanking. The juice was dribbling out of her! When I stopped spanking, she didn't need to be prompted to ask for more, and so when I took up whacking her again, in earnest this time, I diddled her until she climaxed. Then she scrambled off the bed, and she remembered to kneel and thank me for the spanking.

I'm writing this in bed, round about lunchtime, as I thought Lisa and I needed a siesta today, and anyway I wanted to relax and have a climax in her mouth. She's lying curled up with her head on my thigh and my dick between her lips, trying to take my mind off my writing. And she's succeeding. She's got her legs drawn up so I can give her a smack whenever she starts licking too fast. Also I break off from writing every now and then to play with her asshole.

(This morning I took Lisa into the utility room and tried out a few new bondage routines. Towards the end, when she was trussed up especially tight, I gave her an enema, and then set her on the pan and sat and watched her until the inevitable happened. Lisa hates having an enema more than anything, but it makes her really hot afterwards, and she especially likes having her asshole played with. So my pen's spending more time inside her than it is being written with, just now.)

Late this afternoon the Druizzi boys are coming over to pick Lisa up. The mood she's in, I'm sure she'll put on a good show for them. They're bringing over a girl named Michelle; Joe wants to find out whether she'll get a kick out of being screwed while she's tied up. I'm happy to oblige.

Got to stop for a while. Lisa's getting too good at this.

Olena realised that she had started rubbing her nipples against the table, and sat up abruptly. She had not understood some of the language in the text she had just read, but what she thought she comprehended made her head swim.

She knew that she should stop reading books from these shelves. She should go elsewhere in the library, and concentrate on an academic work about linguistics, or physical geography, or anything at all except wickedness and punishment. But she couldn't resist peeking into just one more forbidden volume; then one more, and then another.

Nipple rings are less decorative than jewellery or bells, but have many practical uses, most of which entail the clipping on of chains. This can be done quickly and easily using spring clips of the sort used to attach a lead to a dog's collar.

One chain, running from nipple to nipple, either by way of the back of the neck or through a ring set into the front of a collar, provides decoration as well as a continuous slight upward pull on the nipples. A chain running from nipple to nipple round a post or through a wall ring is enough to constitute very effective bondage.

Olena touched her nipples again. In the corridors of the Chateau she had seen that some of the men and women had been wearing shiny, metallic decorations at their nipples. Were these the 'nipple rings' mentioned in the text? She tried another book.

She lay on her back, staring up at the canopy of leaves, and tried to calm her breathing. She was already feeling hot and sticky in the clinging costume. The bed of dry leaves tickled her naked buttocks, and the forest air cooled her naked breasts. Every other part of her, from head to toe, was encased in rubber. The goggles that were built into the ornate helmet restricted her peripheral vision, which put her at a disadvantage compared with the hunters, but she knew they were essential to protect her eyes.