Cassandra's Chateau

by Fredrica Alleyn

  Cassandra lay on her back and he knelt above her, looking down into her eyes. ‘You’re meant to start lower,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Feet are very erogenous zones, Giovanni.’

  Reluctantly he moved down the bed, and very slowly he began to massage some of the jasmine scented cream into each of her slim toes, rubbing it carefully into the pad beneath each one and then letting his fingers follow the high arch of her foot until he heard her give a groan of enjoyment.

  He was beginning to enjoy this now and with almost cruel slowness he worked his way up the gently rounded calves of her legs, around her knees and then up her thighs but he resisted the temptation to part her legs and instead flipped her over and began the whole process again, but working up the backs of her knees and around her buttocks.

  The quick turning movement had taken Cassandra by surprise, and when she lay face down, pressing her pubic bone deep into the mattress, she shivered with excitement. He was proving a far more adept pupil than Françoise had led her to believe.

  Giovanni worked on each tight buttock in turn, kneading them with his strong fingers until he could feel her squirming beneath him. Then he tipped the bottle and without warning Cassandra felt a cold blob of cream fall onto the highly sensitive spot at the base of her spine. She gave a muffled scream, and then the young Italian was spreading it down between her buttocks and she felt him working it around the outer edges of her rear entrance, never letting his fingers actually part the delicate membrane but teasing her mercilessly until she wished that he would.

  Next he straddled her back and let his hands glide up and down over her trapezium muscles, along the sides of her shoulder blades and up over the tops of the shoulders themselves before pressing firmly up each side of her neck, circling where he could feel small knots of tension, working steadily until the tightness dissolved and her body felt supple and loose beneath him.

  Cassandra relished the feel of his strong fingers, the way he was now taking his time over every movement, and when his downwards pressure forced her rapidly burgeoning breasts into the mattress she deliberately moved herself from side to side in almost imperceptible movements that brought her aching nipples to sharp peaks.

  ‘I think you should turn over now,’ he whispered at last, his mouth nuzzling the nape of her neck where his fingers had been working so well.

  Cassandra turned, staring up at him through heavy lids, and when he smiled at her she smiled back with genuine warmth. It was a long time since her body had been so cosseted, so openly admired with tender caring attentiveness. This kind of lovemaking was rare in the chateau.

  At last Giovanni could let his hands go where they had been longing to go, across her breasts, and then, using the massage lotion, he worked on the tiny nipples themselves, rolling them between fingers and thumb, extending them until he heard her catch her breath and then releasing them, while all the time continuing the rolling caress that caused them to fill with blood so that they grew thick and hard in his grip.

  Cassandra was moaning softly by this time, and her hips were constantly moving as she felt the coiling tendrils of desire begin to unfold deep between her thighs. Giovanni understood this sound. He flattened the palms of his hands against her ribs, then slid them straight down across her tight belly until he could grasp the top of her thighs and finally part those long legs that so excited him.

  Now he worked a little of the lotion into the creases at the tops of her legs, pressing against the outside of her vulva so that every part of her beneath the protecting outer lips was massaged and pressurised. She felt her outer lips begin to separate of their own volition, and as they did Giovanni gently lifted her legs upwards until they were resting on his shoulders.

  Cassandra watched him as he studied her open nakedness with an expression of genuine awe in his eyes. She realised that although they’d only just met, he felt for her, cared for her in a way that was more than sexual. This realisation came as a terrible shock because never, in all the time she had known the baron, had any man looked at her in that way and she shivered, realising too late that it could be dangerous for them both.

  Now Giovanni knew exactly what he intended to do. Gradually he lowered himself towards this vital centre of her sexuality, and as he did so her legs fell off him and he carefully spread them wider apart while at the same time he kept her knees slightly bent. He then lifted her by the hips and as his tongue swirled about her inner lips she felt one hand move further and part her buttocks.

  She was swamped by a mass of sensations twisting and turning as her need grew, and suddenly she felt his tongue enter her, thrusting in and out in a steady rhythm while at the same time the finger between the cheeks of her bottom eased its way past the opening and took up the same rhythm.

  It felt incredible. The thrusting tongue and finger moved in complete unison and every nerve ending seemed to be totally aroused so that it felt as though she was being flooded with a hot liquid that was rising up from between her legs through her stomach and even lapping at her breasts.

  For a moment Giovanni slowed, trying to see if he was pleasing her. ‘Don’t stop!’ she cried frantically. ‘Please, keep going; it’s wonderful.’ Swiftly he resumed the pace, and now the glorious warmth was tightening into something more, and her belly began to contract inwards while just above where his tongue was working a pulse started to beat heavily behind the thin membrane of her sex.

  She was almost there now, balanced right at the point where she would topple over into a climax and as her vaginal muscles began to contract, Giovanni removed his tongue, slid up the bed and replaced it with his aching, straining erection. He then thrust into her as deeply as he could with the full length of his penis. This alone would have been enough to finish her off but he also withdrew his finger from her rectum and used that hand to squeeze the cheeks of her buttocks in time with the very first throbs of his ejaculation.

  As he came in a fierce, searing climax he heard the willowy young woman on the bed crying out in delight and then her internal muscles were gripping him so fiercely he could hardly stand it and he had to lean forward and hold her shoulders still so that she didn’t twist and turn so much that she damaged him.

  Finally, when they were both still, she opened her eyes and looked blankly at him, as though wondering what had happened. ‘You were wonderful,’ she said softly. ‘Really, Giovanni, it was incredible.’

  ‘You too,’ he murmured. ‘For me that was something very special, to be treasured always.’

  He lowered himself to the bed and went to put his arms round her but she rolled away from him, suddenly remembering the cameras and aware that she had already said and done too much. ‘You have to go now,’ she said abruptly.

  Giovanni was baffled. He thought that women always wanted to be held and talked to after lovemaking, even when all he wanted to do was sleep. Now, when he wanted to hold a woman, she was sending him away. ‘You are angry with me?’

  ‘Of course not. It’s just that I’m very sleepy.’

  ‘We will sleep together,’ he said firmly.

  Cassandra rolled back to face him. ‘We will not, Giovanni. You must go now. It was terrific, every minute of it, but it’s over.’

  ‘We will do it again? Soon?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I simply need to sleep,’ she repeated.

  With a sigh he climbed off the bed, dressed and went quietly from the room. He didn’t altogether believe her explanation, but he knew that her responses to him had been genuine; she’d found their lovemaking as special as he had. For the moment that was enough.

  Even as he was leaving Cassandra, Nicola was wishing that she could leave Françoise. The Brazilian woman had wasted no time in tying the English girl between the posts at the foot of her bed and once that was accomplished had used every trick in her book to arouse the girl time and again to the edge of a climax, only to stop at the vital moment and leave her stranded.

  She had started by asking Nicola if she’d enjoyed the feeling of the swan
’s feather against her breasts earlier that day. Reluctantly Nicola had nodded, remembering the soft swirling sensation of it against her nipples.

  ‘That’s lucky, because I brought it in with me,’ said Françoise with one of her secretive smiles. She’d then proceeded to stroke the bound girl’s breasts with leisurely movements, watching the straining upright figure tense all over as the sensations increased.

  ‘When you think you’re close to a climax, let me know,’ she’d told the unsuspecting Nicola, and as the glorious tension started to peak Nicola had thrust her breasts forward as much as her bonds allowed and whispered ‘Now; I’m ready now.’

  Immediately the feather was removed, but to Nicola’s disappointment it didn’t move further down her body to tease the aching spot between her thighs, instead Françoise simply discarded it and then picked up a long handled back-scratcher shaped like a skeleton’s hand. ‘This should feel quite different,’ she’d remarked briskly. ‘It might take a little longer to bring you right to the edge, but we’ll see.’

  ‘I thought …’

  ‘What?’ asked the young Brazilian woman, watching as Nicola’s breasts gradually lost their painfully tight appearance and the nipples grew less rigid.

  ‘I thought I was going to come,’ murmured Nicola, ashamed of admitting her need but wanting Françoise to understand how she felt.

  ‘Of course not!’ laughed Françoise. ‘If I’m careful you won’t come at all this afternoon, but you’ll have lots of lovely feelings.’

  Nicola’s heart sank and then Françoise drew the tips of the back-scratcher up across her body from just above the pubic hair, along the middle of her aching stomach and then very lightly ran it up the underside of each of her breasts in turn.

  The sensation was totally different from that caused by the feather. This time her skin prickled and she had a maddening desire to rub along the red lines that the instrument left behind it, but her bound hands made this impossible.

  She began to breathe more heavily, and seeing this Françoise let the pointed tips of the fingers tease across the surface of the once again taut breast tissue, so that tiny red lines made a pattern from the sides to the centre of each globe. Nicola began to make tiny moaning sounds deep in her throat and tried to shake herself from side to side to ease the strange tickling, burning feeling that refused to die down even after the instrument had been removed.

  ‘Is that delicious?’ asked Françoise.

  Nicola didn’t answer her; she now knew better than to let the other woman know how she was really feeling.

  ‘I think I’ll leave the nipples for now,’ continued Françoise, almost to herself, and Nicola bit on her lips in disappointment because her nipples were aching with their need to be touched, licked or caressed with the claw.

  Françoise studied Nicola, saw that her upper thighs were trembling and her belly shivering with desire. She smiled into the hungry yet despairing eyes of the English girl. ‘I know, time for a body scrub!’ She went into the bathroom and returned with a warm wet flannel that she wiped all over Nicola’s body.

  She started on her back, moving it in damp circles over the shoulders and upper back before wiping it more briskly over the rest of her spine, the cheeks of her tight little bottom and down the backs of her legs, noticing the sharp jerk of response when she let some water drip over the thin skin at the back of the knees.

  She then saturated the flannel again before returning to cover the front of Nicola’s body too, and this time she let more water drip from the cloth, some of it trickling down into the girl’s flinching belly button and along the creases at the top of her thighs.

  When she was satisfied that every inch of her was wet, she took a large jar out of her dressing table drawer and slowly removed the top. ‘It’s a wonderful scrub I got from Switzerland,’ she told the wide-eyed, flushed Nicola. ‘Basically it’s just coarse salt, some kind of oil and an extra little something that stimulates the circulation. You have to scrub it all over the body really vigorously to get the full benefit, so I think I’ll use this.’

  Nicola stared at the loofah Françoise was holding in her right hand and her bound body arched away from the other woman, her stomach almost disappearing as she tried to protect her sensitive skin.

  ‘Stand up straight,’ said Françoise, tugging on the girl’s nipples, amused by their immediate reaction. ‘That’s better. Now, let’s see if you like it as much as I do.’

  Nicola didn’t, at least not at first. The loofah was hard, and the granules of salt in the scrub were rough, particularly where her skin was at its thinnest. Françoise began on her stomach and that quickly started to burn and itch so that Nicola found herself writhing helplessly beneath the onslaught, but when the loofah moved higher and she realised that it was going to be used on her breasts she cried out; begging Françoise not to touch her there.

  ‘But this is the best part,’ said the Brazilian woman, and then the loofah was moving over the whole area, not even avoiding the painfully tight and vulnerable nipples.

  At first Nicola thought she couldn’t stand it and she kept crying out, beseeching Françoise to stop, but slowly the strange burning heat that she’d already experienced on her stomach started to permeate her breasts as well and although they were hot they were throbbing too; throbbing with a hungry desire for further touch, more stimulation, anything to release the dreadful tension she was experiencing.

  Françoise knew that if she continued to work on the breasts long enough Nicola would climax, but she was a consummate judge of when to stop, and just as Nicola felt the initial pulsations between her thighs the loofah stopped its work and once again her body was left right on the edge of satisfaction while Françoise stood back and watched the girl accept the fact that she was again to be denied release.

  When she judged that the moment of danger had passed, Françoise untied Nicola and pushed her through into the bathroom where she stood her in the tub and then used the shower head to hose her down, removing every trace of the scrub. After that she directed a stream of ice cold water at Nicola’s spine and let it cascade up and down her body, hearing her gasp with shock and watching the way her buttocks and thighs shook with arousal.

  When she turned the shower off she wrapped Nicola in a huge fluffy towel, warm from the heated towel rail, and very softly patted her body dry, her movements in total contrast to those made by the harsh loofah and the slight scratchiness of the body scrub.

  Poor Nicola’s body no longer knew what was happening to it, and she let herself be led back into the bedroom and tied flat on her back on the bed without a murmur. ‘This will soften your skin beautifully, just to finish the whole treatment off,’ Françoise murmured, and then she was spreading a cool, lavender scented lotion into the flinching skin that rippled beneath her touch.

  When Françoise’s hands moved between Nicola’s thighs and carefully massaged the area surrounding her vulva, Nicola began to buck and cry out, but this time with urgent desire. Very gently Françoise parted the girl’s outer labia and she saw her copious secretions and the darkening pinkness of the tissue within.

  ‘You need to come don’t you,’ she said with deceptive kindness. ‘Perhaps, just one little climax would be all right.’

  ‘Oh, please, yes. Yes, just one!’ Nicola implored her, no longer caring how shameless she sounded so great was her need.

  Françoise plucked a few threads of cotton from the discarded bath towel, licked them and then, holding the girl’s outer lips apart, drew them with practised precision across the tip of the clitoris.

  Nicola felt her whole body gather itself together and her fastened legs moved restlessly as she began that wonderful ascent. She was almost there, the scarcely perceptible touch of the threads was all she was aware of, all that she needed, and with a grateful cry she moved her pelvis higher in the air.

  Françoise stopped moving her hand and threw the threads to the floor. ‘On the other hand, perhaps not,’ she murmured. ‘The baron might not
like it.’

  Nicola, her whole body engorged, swollen and frantic with need, burst into tears. She hated the young woman who’d been playing with her so ruthlessly and vowed to get her revenge one day.

  Françoise walked away into her dressing room. Tears bored her, but the girl had provided her with a delightful afternoon and she couldn’t wait to see her when she actually reached a climax later that evening.

  The baron lay on his bed, still wearing the light grey suit, white shirt and silver-grey tie that he’d worn to his meeting and replayed the very last part of the video he’d been watching on his screen.

  Cassandra was lying beneath Giovanni Benelli, looking up at him, her dark eyes still clouded by desire and her voice was soft with emotion as she spoke: ‘You were wonderful. Really, Giovanni, it was incredible.’

  Her voice, soft and tender, sounded exactly the same the second time he heard it as the first, and with a frown he let the film run on for a few more seconds. ‘You too,’ responded the Italian – whom Françoise had indicated was some kind of heavy-handed over-enthusiastic stud, not the eager-to-learn sexual athlete the film had shown. ‘For me that was something very special to be treasured always.’

  The baron frowned. It wasn’t what he’d expected to see. None of it had amused him; on the contrary, he was feeling decidedly irritated, and he knew that if he wasn’t careful he was going to get annoyed. It was irrational and out of character, but he could feel the anger lurking just below the surface.

  Despite this, he played the whole tape through again, studying the way Cassandra had so skilfully helped the young Italian to improve his technique until their roles reversed and she became lost in the sheer sensuality of what he was doing to her.

  Not that the baron normally minded her being lost in sensuality with any of his friends. No, it wasn’t that that was troubling him, it was the way the two of them had seemed to come together so well, like two halves of one person fusing with ease and grace. And then, to add to his annoyance, they’d even begun to curl up close, as though their emotions were as involved as their bodies had been.