Sévrine was nervous. Although she had been in training at Chateau F for a little while, this was the first time that she had been called to serve at a gentleman’s evening. Chateau F was a discreet establishment where ladies were trained and perfected the noble arts of submission and obedience. Women, or ‘debutantes’ as they were known at the Chateau, could be sent by their husbands, boyfriends, lovers or Masters – or in some cases, attend themselves, safe in the knowledge of their yearning desire for submission and to better attract a man of the calibre that they were looking for.
At Chateau F, debutantes were given a French name, to reflect the origins of the institute and as an homage to Roissy. Debutantes only knew each other’s French names, not the real, wordly names that each woman used day to day, in their own lives. Sévrine liked her name. Gentlemen guests at the Chateau were merely known as Master or Sir. Sometimes, they were masked. Sometimes not.
Debutantes in training were assigned a valet, who was their personal trainer whilst they were there. It was only last month that Pierre, Sévrine’s valet, whilst licking the tears from her blushing cheeks, had said that she was ready. Ready to be displayed. Ready to be admired. Ready to be used.
The call, when it came, has been to the point.
You are required to do as commanded, without questioning. Obedience is the watchword for a Chateau debutante.
You will also be required to remember the following, fundamental rules. Again, any deviation from these will be severely punished.
Any gentlemen guests are referred to as ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’ at all times.
When a guest enters the room for the first time only, all debutantes must assume Position 3 until asked to rise.
A debutante must always wear her collar.
A debutante never wears any knickers, so she is constantly available for use as desired.
A debutante never closes her legs in the presence of her masters.
A debutante does not sit unless invited to do so by a master.
A debutante does not orgasm without first obtaining the permission of her master.
And so now Sévrine, along with Antoinette, Colette and Camille was preparing herself for the evening, bathing, rubbing sweetly scented oil into her skin, sliding on silk stockings. She was nervous. Oh so nervous. As her black cocktail dress slipped over her head, she blushed. It came to her knees, but she was aware, oh so aware of her lack of knickers. How could something so small loom so large in her mind?
In the drawing room, the debutantes waited nervously. They did not yet have a drink – gentlemen guests were always served first – and nor could they sit down. They chattered, an edge of nervousness to the proceedings. They did not wait long however. The door opened and the evenings guests appeared, two of them, smart in black tie. Immediately, Sévrine slid to her knees with practised ease, assuming position three, kneeling, legs slightly apart, hands flat on the floor, forehead pressed to the ground. From the rustles around her, her fellow debutantes were doing the same. There was a long silence. Then one of the gentlemen broke the silence.
“You may rise.” he said. They did so and suddenly Fifi the maid was circulating with a tray of champagne. Sévrine checked out of the corner of her eyes that the two gentlemen both had one before accepting hers. They were then invited to sit. She sat, knees slightly weak with relief. She’d done it! She hadn’t got it wrong! So far!
When called through to dinner, Sévrine found herself seated on the right of one of the guests, with Camille beside her. She settled herself neatly into her seat, careful to keep her legs slightly apart. Next to her, Camille was in a much shorter, more fashionable dress and when she parted her thighs, her sex was clearly on display. Sévrine almost blushed but was struck by the eager gaze of the gentleman on Camille’s right. He looked – hungry. And not merely for dinner.
During the first course, of smoked salmon mousse, Sévrine was quiet, enjoying her wine and listening to the conversation between the gentleman closest to her, who was conversing with Antoinette, placed opposite her, sparkling in an emerald green dress, like a jewel amongst the candlelight. Sévrine was idly watching Fifi as she poured out the rich red wine, and how pretty it looked in the elegant gold-stemmed glasses when a hand slid confidently between her thighs. She managed not to make a noise of shock or clasp her thighs together, for was this not what she was for? Was this not what she expected at Chateau F?
The hand slid up her inner thigh and checked that she was, as he expected to find her knickerless. He caressed her briefly – even that brief touch set fire to her loins. Why? Because that very morning, in bed with her lover, Sévrine had been forbidden to come. He had wanted her to be ready and desperate for this evening and she felt a blush start as she remembered her fruitless grinding against his leg, his soft laugh as he forbade her to orgasm. She caught the eye of the gentleman and in his amused gaze, it was as if he knew just what she was feeling. Then his hand was gone and Sévrine felt oddly bereft. There was no more touching.
After dinner, they withdrew to the drawing room again and quickly, play began in all its wild desire. Colette was the first to be sat on a gentleman knee and Sévrine, the guest perhaps knowing something of her, of her voyeuristic desires, was made to face away from them, kneeling. The guest pulled up her dress so that her bottom was on display and Sévrine felt the shame of such exposure and the desire at listening to another girls pleasure. When another guest spanked her bottom in that position, she felt oddly ashamed, unworthy almost, of a sexual touch. Her groin ached. She hoped that they wouldn’t make her beg because she knew that the words, the words of longing would spill helplessly from her lips.
Time spun then and Sévrine, heady with wine and lust, lost track of proceedings. One debutante was held down whilst another debutante licked her pussy, her cries of pleasure ebbing and flowing. Another debutante was ordered to play with herself for a gentleman’s amusement whilst he fondled the debutante doing the pleasuring. Sévrine found herself ordered to spank Fifi the maid for poor service, something she did a little unwillingly, for it felt odd for her, a submissive, to deal so roundly with a fellow submissive, but she tried her best, wishing to do her work well. All the time, she was aware of the desire she felt, the need to be touched, perhaps to be fucked, but as yet, it was not forthcoming, she had not yet been chosen. Watching Fifi’s bottom moving under the paddle, Sévrine was struck with a spiteful desire to hurt. She made her strokes harder, frustration driving her. And then like sand, she felt her desire start to leak away as shame and sadism fought to gain supremacy in her head, leaving no room for desire. She was consumed with the desire to punish…
And it was at that point that the pendulum spun, the die rolled around to her and one of the gentleman called her. Sévrine froze slightly. She fumbled in her head for her submissive pleasure. It wasn’t there, like groping in an empty biscuit barrel. She fought to keep her face still. When he picked up a cane, she winced. Why the cane? None of the other girls had been so punished. Had she done something wrong? Failed in some way? He bent her over the sofa.
“This is what happens to girls that bite…” he whispered.
That morning, in bed, she had bitten her lover. He’d promised retribution. This was the retribution, passed on by her lover to Chateau staff. She nearly cried out loud at the unfairness of it, don’t punish me, pleasure me! But she was silent.
The cane bit. Accurately and savagely, it cracked into her cold bottom and it stung and burned. Sévrine gritted her teeth. She knew that this was the hardest punishment to take, to take it on cold flesh, un-warmed by spanking. She felt the blood rush into the white welt left by the cane and it struck again. And again. And again. And again. Sévrine wanted to weep with the unfairness of it all and had the submissive feelings still been swirling in her head, she might have done. Instead, the residual spiteful sadism was still there and she gritted her teeth and gnawed on her lip till she felt a tiny tickle of blood in her mouth, but no sound emerged from her lips, there was no submissive bucking of the hips. She was ice. Even when the gentleman stopped his individual strokes and instead covered her rear with a continuous sharp caning, she was silent.
He took her upstairs then, laid her on one of the Chateau’s many beds and his hands went to pleasure her. But focused on her burning rear, she couldn’t orgasm. The desire was there but it couldn’t come out. After a while, he withdrew.
“I’m not spending my time on this.” he said finally. Then he left the room, presumably to find more fruitful ground.
And then Sévrine wept. Because it was her first night, her first challenge and she would have to tell her valet that she had failed. At that moment, the agony of submission had never been so apparent.
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