Other Institutions: Chateau Noir: Chapter 6

Training

I spent my second day at the Chateau Noir in touring what Mlle. T. referred to as her "training chambers", these being several rooms scattered throughout the building that had each been furnished and appointed according to its own specific purpose. There were chambers fitted out in the finest luxury, and then again there were those which were styled more to the tastes of the strictest of Spartans.

One large room, this upon the building's ground floor, I perceived to have once been a music room, as it included among its decorations and appointments several ornate and antique music stands, large bookshelves upon which there were still stored tall stacks of printed music. There was even a small harpsichord, standing closed and silent in one corner.

In this room also, upon the deep, plush oriental carpeting, no doubt originally laid for the purpose of absorbing the harsher reverberations a bare wooden floor would have merely amplified, stood a long, narrow table of heavy wood. And stretched naked, belly down, along this table, and bent sharply forward at her waist, another of Mlle. T.'s young students, a blonde-haired nymph of about sixteen, had been tightly bound.

The girl's legs were held widely spread apart and her ankles tightly strapped to the legs of the table at one end. Other tight straps extending from the opposite end of the table and fixed about the girl's wrists served to stretch her body to the tautness of a bowstring.

Behind the bound girl there stood the manservant Karl, a long, black leather buggy whip in his hand. This whip he was vigorously applying to the young girl's naked backside in firm, regular, solid strokes that cut the air with a audible whooshing sound before cutting into the girl's soft bottom- flesh with a sharp, cracking report that was, in turn, followed close by a gasping, wailing shriek from the girl herself.

These punishing strokes were spaced well apart, however, measured out according to the voice of a small, golden clock, about seven inches tall and encrusted with bright jewels, that had been set to chime once with the passing of each minute.

Upon this regularly paced chiming of the clock, the whip would descend with the same whoosh and crack I have described. And after each cruel stroke had been delivered, the tormented girl's sharp cry of intense discomfort would erupt and then subside into soft, tearful sobs, as she stared into the unsympathetic visage of the clock and endured the fearful wait as the next minute swiftly ticked past.

"It is a lesson in anticipation," Mlle. T. murmured, quietly. "By the regular striking of the clock, by knowing, to the second, precisely when she may expect the next bright pulse of pain, the girl is learning to experience her discomfort to the fullest, and thereby will soon know, by pure instinct, to apply that same capacity for anticipation to the more exquisite experience of pleasure."

Mlle. T.'s remarks were here punctuated by another crystalline chiming of the clock, the cracking report of the buggy whip and, finally, the alarmed cry of the tortured young girl, this cry somewhat louder than before. My position, to the rear of the student being trained, offered an unobscured view of the sweetly proffered backside, and I could readily observe the clenching and working of the girl's flanks as she responded to the whip's crashing stroke and then awaited in dreadful anticipation of the next. The halved pear of the tender sex of the young girl seemed to open and close, winkingly, as did that more secret, lower, nether opening, as if in complete disregard for the lascivious display these movements presented to those present. The discomfort of the ordeal must, indeed, have been severe to so obscure in the young girl any thoughts of the immodesty of her position.

"The sensation intensifies with each stroke, and with each minute of the girl's anticipation, do you see?" said Mlle. T. "She has endured but her first few minutes. This lesson is stipulated to last for a full hour. Soon she will be at the bare edge of her mind's ability to even perceive her discomfort. It will all, by hour's end, become one with her. She will, of course, have to be more tightly bound at that point than she is now, her fingers wrapped in cloth so that she will not damage the table's finish with the clawing of her nails, and her mouth properly bitted to prevent damage to her sweet tongue."

The next stroke of the leather against the girl's backside occasioned just such a response as Mlle. T. had been predicting. The girl now made a desperate effort to free herself from her bonds, wrenching fiercely about, what little she was able, until Mlle. T. motioned for Karl to take the precautions she has described. The bitting of the girl's mouth, the wrapping of her hands and the tightening of the strong leather straps were all accomplished in less that a minute, so that the lesson was resumed with no respite beyond the single minute prescribed.

Again, with the circuit of the clock's small second hand to the top of the numbered face, the indefatigable Karl swung the buggy whip widely out and back, winding up to once again bring the length of supple, black leather and bamboo snapping viciously into the soft, curving flesh of the now most repentant young girl bent helplessly before him, at nearly the same instant as the clock emitted its coldly innocent and uncaringly chiming "ping." And, again, the girl erupted as before with the same frantic grunting squeals of desperation and bitter struggling against her unyielding bonds.

There was something almost calming in the observation of this process that is difficult for me to describe even now. Somehow, though one could not escape identifying with the unpleasant plight of the girl undergoing this extreme form of punishment - one could easily discern, for instance, from her panicked cries, the discomfort she was undergoing under the servant's harsh, regular lashing - there was something in the very regularity of those punishing strokes that proved somehow soothing to those observing the process.

At the time, I looked about me, into the countenances of both the administrator of the painfully whipping strokes and the woman who had ordered them, and could see either face nothing other than a quite serenity. There was no glint of salaciousness about the eye, as might have been suspected in one who might actually relish, in a voyeuristic manner, the scene they were both witness to and participants in. There was not the slightest hint of empathy, no flinch of muscle at the sharp cracking report of leather against female bottom- flesh that might signal any regretful affinity with the girl's obvious torment.

In the faces of both Karl and Mlle. T. there was but an expression of certain, glowing calm, a radiant peace that pervaded all. And I soon found myself as well falling under the same spell that mesmerised these others, lured into a strange, calm, and undeniably pleasant peacefulness which progressed unaccountably with the regularity of the ticking clock there on the table and the tolling of the bell and punishing whiplash that came inexorably with each sixty second interval that passed.

Chime, whip, scream. The ticking of the clock, the whimper of anticipation from the blonde sixteen-year-old. Chime, whip, scream. On and on, for exactly how long I am uncertain. But the endurance of the young girl was impressive.

My reverie was broken as a meaningful glance passed between Karl and his mistress just as the student being dealt with yelped at the most recent chiming of the clock and the snapping blow of the buggy whip across her trembling young mounds that so closely followed. And a second afterward, just as the girl had begun to relax for the blessed sixty-second interval of reprieve before the next anticipated crashing blow, the servant Karl exploded into a whirr of motion, planting upwards of ten to perhaps fifteen rapid-fire strokes of the whip along both cheeks of the girl's divided rump.

The student detonated into a frenzy. The panelled walls of the music room echoed, reverberated and rang with the shrillness of the surprised betrayal of the young girl. She shrieked around the gagging bit between her teeth, her mouth and eyes widely opened in wild panic, and her entire frame bucked upwards against the leather restraints, howling and writhing for the duration of Karl's furious and wholly unexpected attack.

It was as if a thousand wasps had taken the few seconds the dozen or so strokes required to plunge their venomous stingers all at once into various points along the sweet curves of soft woman-flesh, causing the poor thing a combined agony the possibility of which the previous widely spaced strokes could only have suggested.

When, at last, the quick, cracking flurry of shocks gave way, the girl's tearful shrieks carried on, for having once been betrayed as to the rules of her ordeal the girl could not now be entirely certain some new, and even more exquisitely painful surprise awaited her.

But after a moment all was silent, save for the ticking of the small jewelled clock and the gasping, sniffling sobs of the girl as her panicked cries finally subsided.

As I watched, Mlle. T. nodded to her servant, indicating her satisfaction with this proper performance of his duties. Karl, betraying as always not the slightest hit of emotion, of sympathy or otherwise, calmly and wordlessly placed the well used buggy whip upon the wall rack where it apparently belonged. This was a kind of storage unit similar to racks commonly seen in billiard rooms, designed for the storage of cue sticks, and the space in which Karl placed the instrument was the only niche remaining unoccupied by brother and sister appliances of the same nature.

The rack held whips of all sizes and materials, as I noted some time later, when I had leisure to examine its contents more closely. There were long, thin rods bound in supple leather such as might be seen in use in the finest stable yards. There were also various lengths of new cane, polished and glistening with fresh varnish, or wax. Mlle. T. mentioned on that later occasion that a waxed cane offered a sensation upon the backside or breasts of an errant female as different from that of a like instrument layered in varnish as the taste of salt is distinguishable from that of sugar.

As I have said, the wild cries of the young girl strapped to the music room table had ceased to assail our ears as it became understood to her that the stinging smacks of Karl's buggy whip had, at least for the moment, ceased to assail the burning flesh of her tender rump. All that could be heard now were the quiet sounds of the girl's tearful, sniffling sobs as she attempted, only somewhat successfully, to recover her composure.

Mlle. T., however, took this very moment to interfere with the girl's efforts at self-control by approaching the young student from behind and placing one hand, palm downwards, upon the glowing redness of the girl's lined and whelp-covered left rear cheek. Approaching, as I say, from behind, this touch came as a complete surprise to the girl, and as the touch appeared to be most gentle and soothing, I was startled by the student's precipitous reaction. At the first gentle contact of hand against rump the girl bucked upwards against her restraints and again screamed wildly around the hard rubber bit as if Karl's punishing whip strokes had abruptly begun anew.

It was, I believe, a combination of surprise at the unexpected touch and a very real tenderness of the darkly flushed and redly marked rump-flesh that caused the girl's fearful reaction, for now, having realised that her Karl's "instruction" was for the moment done - she had watched with obvious relief as the man had passed out through a door within her view - and as Mlle. T.'s touches rapidly demonstrated themselves to be only the tenderest of caresses, the girl's panic once again subsided.

Gentle palm and fingertips now lightly brushed and stroked the red-hot looking curves of girlish buttocks with a soothing and calming regularity. Small sobs and tearful sniffles soon gave way to quiet whimpers begging sympathy from her harsh Mistress.

Continuing her ministrations, Mlle. T. turned to me and motioned me forward. I came to her side, trying to avoid staring directly at this delectable, closer view of the student's openly exposed sex. Mlle. T. caught my embarrassed glance and smiled, somewhat chidingly, diverting my eyes again to the very object I had endeavoured to modestly ignore.

The lightly furred peach of the girl's young sex stood open before me, the lips still slightly parted as a result of the contortive gymnastics her lithe figure had performed moments earlier under the lash, a young girl's unpainted pink lips parted with breathless excitement in anticipation of her very first kiss. The wispy blonde curls fringing the delicious aperture added a gentle sweetness to the sight, and the solitary eye of that tightly closed rosebud above appeared strangely even sweeter in its particular exposed vulnerability.

Another quietly amused glance from Mlle. T. invited me to a closer inspection, this time by way of direct touch. The firm right hand of the Mistress of the Chateau Noir gathered in my own, as the palm and fingers of her left continued to lightly stroke the curves of the abused young cheeks. Reluctantly I allowed my hand to be placed upon the soft right half of the girl's tender rump. The young blonde caught her breath as this stranger's palm settled onto the sensitive flesh. I glanced up along the narrow range of her bare back to catch her looking over her right shoulder at me, my eyes caught for an instant by her two tear-filled pools of deepest blue beneath the short golden bangs plastered to a somewhat darker shade by the perspiration that wetted her forehead. There was a hit of weary exhaustion there, and something more, an emotion I could not quite read. The lips around the hard rubber of the bit seemed relaxed now and the face appeared calmer than before. One interlocking glance, and then the girl turned away to rest her head, left cheek downward against the smooth-varnished surface of the table to which she was bound.

The female flesh seemed to burn my open palm with it's heat, the redness of the punished rear cheek radiating outward to cause a sympathetic vibration within my own system. I felt the girl's painfully throbbing as if it were my own. The numerous interlocking welts that criss-crossed the tender curve of delicate flesh told in a language even a blind man could readily decipher.

I gently traced one of these lines from in-turning centre valley on outward to the girl's side, where it at last came to an end, and I imagined I felt the single, lashing stroke of the whip that had written there its tale of bright, flashing torment, now replaced by a pulsing heat in the aftermath, the healing of the female flesh already begun.

Mlle. T. again directed my gaze downward into the sweet divide of the young girl's rear. The woman leaned close in, to whisper briefly in my left ear."Remember. With pain must always come pleasure. That is the lesson we impart here. No matter what unpleasant torments the lives of these girls hold in store in the future, it is the pleasure, the deliciously intense pleasures they are here learning to give, and to receive, that must become the centre of all their attention. Soon, with careful training, each with learn to dismiss the former and embrace the latter. When they have mastered that, there in no unpleasantness they will not be able to overcome. They will become the mistresses of their own lives, and more."

I must have looked as if I were about to respond with a whispered request for some clarification on this point - which I was, indeed, later on to learn was the true heart, soul and secret of the Chateau Noir and of Mlle. T.'s philosophy - for the Mistress immediately silenced my coming inquiries with another communicative glance.

Once more she directed my attention to the posterior of the girl strapped prone before us. Mlle. T.'s caresses continued as they had throughout the preceding few moments, but now her long, tender strokes seemed to be progressing ever downwards into the crevice that separated the girl's lusciously reddened bottom-cheeks, fingertips now and again venturing into the sweet divide itself, now, at last, brushing lightly against the outer ridges that formed the delicate lips of the female sex itself.

I saw the muscles along the back of the young girl tense at this, and there was a small sigh from her bitted lips, barely audible from where we stood.

The next instant drew a small, sharp cry of, "Oh!" from the girl, drawing my attention again to Mlle. T.'s caressing fingers, which I noted had now parted the tender lips of the young blonde's inner sex. One fingertip had entered a fraction into the interior of that sweet channel, and was now toying mischievously with the delicate flesh just inside.

"Oh!" the girl cried again, as I saw Mlle. T.'s efforts rewarded with a sudden flow of wetness at the lower boundary of the girlish opening, a small spring beginning to flow outward there, tricking downward toward the electric button of the girl's clitoris, which was beginning to poke its small head out from under its protective hood in curiosity, seeming to invite a further, deeper exploration to the secret source of that flow.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," the girl whined, in a highly-pitched tone, her narrow hips now beginning a slight, slow writhing under her mistress's touch.

Mlle. T.'s fingers were now teasing lower along her student's now wetly parted love lips, and in a moment it was the girl's small clit itself that was being manipulated and stroked as the mistress worked expertly to coax the little nub more and more into view.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!" The girl was becoming more animated now in her movements in response to the older woman's fondlings, her hips writhing so that it was only through careful attention to those frantic motions that the Mistress was able to maintain constant teasing contact with the small target of her manipulations.

It was clear that the young blonde was approaching a sexual climax under the masturbatory hand of her knowledgeable instructress, her entire body now overcome by a frenzy of erratic motion, hips nearly awhirl before us, back arching upwards as if she were a young mare being mounted for the very first time by a rampant young stallion.

Her blonde hair tossed in a deranged manner, first backwards, as her head arched upwards in response to some delectably delightful caress from her Mistress's fingers against the small bud of her clitoris, then forward, shrouding her face in a golden curtain, a yellow veil of silken tresses momentarily concealing a facial expression of wild, tormented passion, then all at once that long, golden hair was whipping from side to side in a frantic blur as the poor girl's passion threatened to reach it's final, unsurpassable peak.

"No. Nooooooo!" A small denial, then a panicked, begging, pleading, caterwauling cry to the gods as that passionate peak finally overcame her.

The walls of the music room rang once more with a wild, girlish shriek of unendurable emotion, this current cry of sweet, passionate pleasure as piercing as the cries of horrible pain which had preceded it but a short while earlier, and no doubt the pleasure of this present moment was as intense and exquisitely powerful as had been that earlier torment, for the girl's physical reactions appeared remarkably the same.

The observation of this fact brought me once again to the very brink of understanding another of Mlle. T.'s training principals, the almost mystical relationship - indeed, the intimate correlation - between the subtle and primitive experiences and essences of pleasure and pain.

The young student bound before us continued to writhe and cry out in mounting shrieks of painful, pleasurable anticipation until, her body tensing suddenly and silently for a single trembling instant, she exploded into a convulsive, all-consuming and undeniable orgasm.

She shrieked, her high, mournful howl to the heavens surpassing even the cries she had given at Karl's final barrage of whip strokes at the conclusion of her preceding ordeal. For nearly a full minute her cries assailed our ears, as the girl's earth-shattering come continued unabated until, her endurance at a frazzled end, with one last, final, exhausting scream the little blonde sixteen-year-old collapsed into a spontaneous unconsciousness, her body sagging, insensible, against the perspiration-soaked surface of the long table.

I watched as Mlle. T. calmly withdrew her hand from the valley of flesh she had been so pleasurably tormenting, her hand now wet with the freshly pooling, lubricating juices of the girl's rampant spend. She wiped her hands methodically upon a red silk handkerchief she pulled from somewhere about her person and stood for a moment, calmly gazing at the fainted young girl.

"Karl will awaken her in a few moments," she said. In the quiet of the aftermath the ticking of the small clock was again detectable over the sound of the unconscious girl's ragged breathing. "Then her instruction will begin again."

I imagined with surprise and awe the young student's despair at being awakened to find that her ordeal had but begun.

I myself, however, was not to witness this awakening and resumption. Mlle. T. informed me in the next moment that my tour of the Chateau's training rooms was now to continue.

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