CHAPTER SIX
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.
