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Review This Story || Author: Frank Watson

Chateau Noir

Chapter Three Dinner

                     CHAPTER THREE
                         DINNER

Dinner at the Chateau Noir was both simple and elegant. 
Simple in so far as the food, itself, was concerned,
consisting of a brace of fine roast ducklings, with a
singularly delicious savoury cream sauce, garnished with
chestnuts, raisons and various other dried fruits,
complimented perfectly with an excellent dark burgundy.  But
the presentation of the meal was a study of elegance, even
disregarding the unusual "decorations" with which the dining
chamber had been fitted.  These delightful trappings I will
describe momentary.
	The ever present Karl was our only servant, and he did
admirably well in that role, moving silently around the great
oaken table, and never allowing the wine glass of either
myself or the Mistress to run dry.
	I suspected at the time that this Karl also held the
position of cook at the chateau, but I later discovered the
presence of another servant, a much younger man than Karl, but
of apparently the same national origin.  In fact, the
similarity between the complexion, features, and build of the
two men led me to believe them to be actually related by
blood, but the exact nature of that relationship, whether of
brotherhood or, perhaps even, of father and son, I never quiet
discovered.  I did learn, however, that it was this other I
had to thank for the exceptionally fine meals at the chateau. 
This other servant, answering to the name of Alex, I was also
to discover possessed quite a few other specialized talents,
and I would have ample opportunity to observe many of them
demonstrated over the course of my stay.
	As to the room in which this dinner was held, it was of a
large and luxurious capacity.  The massive oaken dining table,
although presently set for myself and Mlle. T. alone, could
easily have accommodated a party of twenty or more.  Mlle. T.
and myself sat facing one another across one far end of the
long, polished expanse.
	And here I must begin to describe the most unusual
decorations that had been arranged to embellish our dining
enjoyment.  The light in the chamber, other than that provided
by a massive stone fireplace situated near the centre of one
long wall, was provided by the flames of eleven flickering
candles.  Eight of these candles were held by four exquisitely
naked young girls.  Two of the these, in age not more than
fifteen, stood on either side of me at the table, and the two
others stood flanking Mlle. T. as she sat opposite.  The four
stood motionless with a silver candlestick held in each hand. 
Their stares were unflinching and entirely frozen, as if they
were not even aware of our presence.
	I did not recognise these girls as members of the group to
whom I had been earlier introduced, and Mlle. T. informed me
that these were students much farther along in their training
than the newer arrivals I had met.  The concentration and
self-possession these four young women demonstrated spoke
eloquently of the effectiveness of their Mistress's training.
	These four, as I have stated, accounted for eight of the
eleven candles which provided the glowing light for our meal. 
The remaining three candles were held by an even more unique
human candelabrum.
	Upon the centre of the table, between Mlle. T. and myself,
there lay another young girl, perhaps a year older than her
sisters who stood.  This girl, a beautiful blonde-haired nymph
of exquisite feature and composition, lay upon her back, in
profile, between her Mistress and myself.  In each small, bare
hand she held a single lighted candle, the melted wax of which
ran freely over her clenching fists, so that by mid-meal the
fists, themselves, were all but covered with the congealing
flow.
	This alone would have accounted for more than a small bit of
discomfort on the girl's part, but there was a further reason
for the girl to regret her current situation.  The girl had
been forced to pull her knees so far forward that they
actually rested upon the table at each side of her head.
	The reason for the girl's placement in this uncomfortable
position was this:  the eleventh candle in the room had been
inserted deep within the young girl's naked, up-turned sex. 
The position the girl had assumed was necessary to keep the
lighted candle upright.  And the upright attitude of the
candle was extremely desirable, it was more than apparent,
because an upright candle tends to drip the less.
	By carefully balancing upon her shoulders and upper spine,
the girl could keep the candle somewhat erect and the hot
dripping of the wax to a minimum.  The laws of physics being
what they are, however, a certain amount of dripping wax was
unavoidable, thus complicating the girl's situation.  It was
imperative that the girl remain motionless in order to
minimize the flow of wax.  But whenever that unavoidable
minimal droplet finally came, the tracing of that searing
rivulet, running either forward and down across the girl's
tensing belly or, more alarmingly, coursing to the rear to
trickle down between the girl's trembling nether cheeks, the
reflexive bodily tremor at the intense pain resulting would
only serve to shake loose even more of the hot wax to be
scattered in both directions.
	Throughout the meal, I watched the progress of the flame
from this eleventh candle as it moved ever downward with its
melting.  From time to time, as the dripping wax produced the
effects I have described, the girl would emit a slight whimper
or, at a particularly copious precipitation of hot wax, an
even sharper cry.
	Mlle. T. casually informed me that the young girl was
undergoing another of the Mistress's intricately designed
tests of will, and I could well gather from the Mistress's
frowning looks in response to the girl's restrained outbursts
that the subject's performance was not considered
satisfactory.
	Finally, Mlle. T. called for brandy, which the faithful Karl
immediately brought.  The Mistress herself poured the amber
liquid from its ancient, dust-covered bottle.
	The candle between the legs of our "centre-piece" had by
this point, our meal being now nearly at an end, burned down
almost to within an inch of the soft pink lips of the girl's
young sex, and I had been silently concerned that the girl
might actually suffer some more acute pain, and possibly even
actually disfigurement, should the Mistress's "test" continue
much longer.
	It was at this point, however, that Mlle. T. apparently
intended to bring the test to a conclusion.  She was now
reaching forward across the girl's upturned and tensing young
buttocks and endeavouring to warm her half filled snifter of
brandy in the heat of candle flame now nearly guttering
between the girl's trembling legs.
	"You have done well, my dear," said Mlle. T., although her
expression, as seen by me, and not by the girl to whom she
spoke, demonstrated that she felt just the opposite of the
approval she expressed.
	The Mistress swirled the warm brandy in the glass above the
candle flame, as the young girl seemed to relax somewhat at
the apparently nearing end of her extended discomfort.
	"But, perhaps," purred Mlle. T., "one final test is called
for."
	With this, the Mistress sloshed the swirling brandy out from
her glass and onto the loins of the young girl, whereupon the
entire pool of sweet liquor exploded into bright blue flame
which washed instantly down across the girl's belly in front
and into the sweet crack of her raised buttocks behind.
	The girl shrieked as loudly as I have ever heard any animal
cry in anguish either before or since.  She bucked and writhed
mindlessly for an instant as if galvanized.  Then, flinging
away the candles she had held so patiently in her hands, she
plunged her wax-coated digits into her now fiery, wax-covered
loins in a disparate effort to extinguish the anguishing
flames that curled luxuriously about between her legs.
	At that moment, the servant, Karl, arrived once again upon
the frantic scene, no doubt at his Mistress's earliest
instructions, equipped with a large pitcher of water, icy cold
from a neighbouring stream, which he summarily splashed across
the lower body of the screaming young girl, extinguishing the
blue alcohol flames, but causing with yet another eruption of
startled cries, these at the too abrupt transition or
temperatures, from fiery hot to icy cold, upon the girl's
tender young flesh.
	"You have failed the test, do you hear!" cried Mlle. T.,
with scream of her own.  "Take her away!"
	In a few moments, writhing and sobbing, the hysterical girl
had been carried out of the room and away to some other part
of the building.
	Collapsing back into my chair and sipping my own brandy, in
order to regain my composure, I became aware of an amazing
fact.  Throughout the entire melee, which had climaxed our
dinner, even when our female centre-piece had been shriekingly
set alight, none of the other four girls, who still remained
standing by our chairs with lighted candles of their own, had
ever made the slightest move, had shown not even the slightest
change of expression.
	No emotion.
	Total control.



Review This Story || Author: Frank Watson
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