CHAPTER TEN
OBSERVATIONS CONTINUED
I spent the remaining hour before my second midnight
appointment in Mlle. T.'s bed chamber wandering alone along
that velvet-lined corridor of transparent mirrors, pausing
here and there to gaze through several of the portholes onto
the various scenes beyond.
Here were two of the Chateau's younger students, one
dark, one light, both blissfully entwined in one other's arms,
squirming anxiously head-to-tail in a girlish wrestle, each no
doubt seeking to surpass the other in the pleasures she was
affording her sister. I wondered for a moment whether the
activities in this case had been proscribed by their Mistress,
or whether the two were engaged in affections that had been
forbidden them, and so were accruing punishments to become due
later on. Punishments that I might be witness to.
Another shaded window looked into the bed chamber of
little Beverly, whose smallish form I recognised instantly
from her short, bright, blonde hair above, and her complete
lack of it below. This was the same girl I had seen "plucked"
on my first invited visit to the Mlle.'s bed chamber.
The young girl lay upon her narrow bed now, both hands
clutched between her fine, coltish thighs, rubbing and teasing
herself insistently, just as Mlle. T. had predicted she would,
the systematic removal of her fine pubic curls having
stimulated the girl to a state of near constant arousal.
Indeed, the girl showed much evidence of the long hours
she had spent at this secret self-play since her midnight
operation. Her strong inner thighs looked somewhat bruised
below the wetness there, and there were unmistakable dark
circles beneath the girl's eyes that held told a tale of
several days lack of sleep.
Later I would mention this to Mlle. T., who would then
explain that the girl might be sedated should her youthful
endurance of such over-extended periods of pleasuring prove
detrimental to her health.
Several windows further down the corridor I came upon a
view of a room I had seen once before. It was that occupied
my Allison, the solitary masturbator Mlle. T. had shown me
through this same corridor window earlier. Though wild with
passion then, the curly-haired brunette now appeared most calm
and angelic in sleep. Careful observation of the exposed
curls peeking from under the hem of her white tunic, however,
clearly demonstrated that this was only a temporary pause in
Allison's secret activity, for the slight foliage there was as
wet with recent excitement as had been the bare pubice of
young Beverly.
At the base of Allison's "window" in the corridor I now
noticed two small plaques had been hung by little loops of
golden chain, draped over a nail. The plaques had been cut
from thin sheets of wood, painted black, and lettered with the
following two legends: "THE POLE" and "THE BRAND."
My brow furrowed as I wondered what these pronouncements
might signify, but could come to no certain conclusion.
Further still along the corridor, I found the window into
the chamber assigned to young Stephanie. This was, I
remembered, the girl I had seen on that earlier occasion as
well lying restrained in her bed, forcibly forbidden the
pleasures of her own fingers until some later date.
The brown-haired girl still lay restrained as she had
been then, some days before, but this time there were a few
changes. Stephanie's position had been changed. She had been
pulled down the bed until her small behind rested right at the
mattress edge, her legs hanging over its far end and strapped
into place against the bed's iron legs.
Something else was different as well. A most singular-
looking device of some kind had been placed upon a cart, which
had then been wheeled into place between the girl's parted
thighs. This device, I quickly realised, must be "the Tongue"
which I had heard Mlle. T. mysteriously allude to.
It consisted of an unfathomable configuration of clock-
work, no doubt designed my the ingenious Alex, maker of the
Chateau's water-clock, as well as many other clever devices I
was to see as my stay at the Chateau drew on. This particular
device appeared to be powered by an inner spring that could be
wound up and left to run unattended, for there was no one in
the room but Stephanie.
The purpose of the device was clear. At the centre of a
conglomeration of churning and ticking gears there was a two-
foot length of soft leather, about two inches in width, which
flew through the air in a continuous circular arc, bound to a
central flywheel of the device.
The remarkable gadget had been placed close enough up
between Stephanie's splayed thighs so that each whirring cycle
of the clock-work send that strip of soft leather - that
"Tongue" - smacking down with some considerable force into the
exposed centre of the girl's defenceless vulva.
I say the "Tongue" whipped into the girl's sex with some
force, but it was apparent that that force had been carefully
regulated so as to cause no serious damage to Stephanie's
delicate membranes, but to deliver quite a stinging blow there
nevertheless.
There was no sound from beyond the glass. I gathered
that this must have been one of the Chateau's soundproof
chambers. However, had I been able to listen to the sounds
within, no doubt I would have heard the most alarming shrieks
from the girl within.
Stephanie's eyes were wilder than they had been at the
orgasmic moment when she had failed to withstand the "test" of
her Mistress's stimulation, which I had witnessed upon the
first day of my arrival at the Chateau, and which I have
described earlier in these pages.
The girl's arms and legs struggled with a fierceness
remarkable for one of such tender age, the straps that held
her arms stretched back along the bed pulled to the tautness
of bowstrings.
But no amount of wild resistance would do the girl a bit
of good. The straps held her fast. She could but raise her
unbound midsection upwards from the mattress, but that would
only bring the stinging lash of the "tongue" down upon the
full length of her girlish slit, instead of upon the uppermost
portion near her clit alone, and so no respite was to be
gained at all through that.
How long had the girl's punishment gone on? How long
might it yet continue? To these questions I had no answer.
I looked on for a few more minutes there, and then left the
silently screaming girl, to continue on down the corridor in
search of another particular window.
Finally, I came upon the shadowed mirror that looked into
the chamber of sixteen-year-old Ariel. The dark-haired virgin
was seated upon a wooden straight-backed chair at her beside,
just a few inches beyond the glass through which I gazed. She
appeared worried, her head down, the curling bangs of her
sweet dark hair nearly obscuring my view of her eyes.
She seemed to be struggling with some troubling thought
or other, her hands gripped tightly upon her knees. Suddenly
she threw back her head and gave a little whimper of
frustration. Her eyes now revealed from behind the dark
curtain of her hair were feverish with emotion, though with
what specific emotion I could not as yet determine.
The answer became apparent in the next moment, as the
young girl seemed to come to some decision, released her
knees, the tight grip of her hands there leaving the dark
remnants of a slight bruising, and slid those hands instead
quickly up along her thighs to their sweet junction, veiled by
the hem of her short silk tunic.
Ariel had been attempting to restrain herself from
touching the area her hands were so avidly exploring now,
possibly following a prohibition from her Mistress. But now
her resolve was scattered to the winds, as she obviously
worked diligently to bring herself off as quickly as possible.
The girl's effort was to prove all in vain, however, for
the next instant the door to the chamber flew wide open. It
was the servant, Karl. Without preamble, he lifted the girl
bodily from her chair and carried her from the room, the door
swinging closed to latch behind him.
I quickly dug my watch from my pocket. Yes, it was ten
minutes 'til midnight. Ariel had an appointment with Mlle. T.
And so did I.
I hurried back down the corridor toward the stairway, but
before I did so, I turned back to the window I had just
looking through, and noticed for the first time the little
plaque which dangled from the lower frame. It read: "THE
PLUCKING."
I thought for a moment of the plaques I had seen earlier,
and then hurried on my way.
