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Review This Story || Author: Frank Watson

Chateau Noir

Chapter Eight The Water

                     CHAPTER EIGHT
                       THE WATER

On the preceding evening, as you may remember, by way of the
Chateau's "observation corridor", that magical hall of
transparent mirrors - windows, opening onto the private lives
of the school's inmates - I had had the opportunity of
observing two of Mlle. T.'s younger charges, the virginal,
though promiscuously-natured Ariel, and Jennifer, the timid
friend to the former, both dark-haired angels of sixteen, as
the two roommates engaged in lascivious play together in one
of their chamber's single beds.
     Mlle. T. had mentioned, as she stood at my elbow there on
the shaded side of the glass, that, while the more aggressive
of the two, the wickedly pleasurable Ariel was to have her
promiscuity towards her sister females curbed by a
mysteriously hinted at procedure which would take place in the
very near future, the reticence of Ariel's partner, young
Jennifer, where activities of a sexual nature were concerned
were to be dissuaded and her natural proclivities toward
carnality enhanced by a likewise mysterious procedure to come.
     On the evening following my introduction to the
fascinating workings of the Chateau's amazing water-clock and
the ecstasies that mere water pressure could provide a young
female when creative modern technology and the directed
willpower of Man were thoughtfully applied, Mlle. T. invited
me to become witness to the manner in which a much simpler
application of that same, simple, liquid element of nature
could be utilized toward the purpose of turning the above-
mentioned Jennifer from a shy, tentative creature into one for
whom not even the most extreme excesses of sexual pleasure
would adequately satisfy her soon to be whetted appetites.
     The chamber into which Mlle. T. led me for the viewing of
this procedure was, indeed, very much like that which had
contained the apparatus of Alex's ingenious water-clock, as
was not too surprising given that the principle element of the
room's design came from the same watery spring that had
powered the first.  However, in the case at hand, the water
flowed into this particular chamber, not through the ceiling
at the far end of the room, but rather from an opening at the
room's very centre.
     There, just under the ceiling at this point, and below
the opening of a pipe connecting with the Chateau's nearby
spring, had been fixed a sort of oblong tin basin of about
five feet in length and about three feet in width.  Down from
this basin there dangled three long hoses of stiff India
rubber, to each of which small gradiated clamps had been
attached a few inches from their ends.  These hose ends, in
turn, hung to a level of about a foot or so above the surface
of a polished wooden table fixed to an immovable platform in
the room's centre.
     The purpose of the snakelike configuration of hoses above
was unfathomable to me, but the design of the wooden table was
clear from my observance of other such devices at the Mlle.
T.'s school, for this table was fitted out with the same
series of silver-buckled leather straps that by now I
immediately recognized as being for the purpose of restraining
the Chateau's young charges.
     The redoubtable Alex was there when we arrived, his
visage calm and emotionless as ever as he went about adjusting
the stiff hoses and their clamps with the loving care of the
inventor for his invention.  And a moment or two after myself
and Mlle. T. had arrived, Karl entered the room as well,
accompanied by the beautiful, though painfully timid young
Jennifer.
     She came without compunction, padding along behind the
silent servant acquiescently enough in her bare feet, though
her eyes were wide and wary, no doubt wondering what new
"lesson" her harsh Mistress had planned for her.
     I watched her approach.  She met my gaze and I felt
myself blush uncontrollably.  After all, had I not observed
this same young girl just the night before rolling blissfully
in the arms of her wicked little roommate, Ariel?  Had I not
watched and listened as the girl had writhed and tossed under
the delicious assault of her friend's busy tongue, until at
last this same innocent-looking young nymph, as tender and
fresh as any mythical denizen of some far off enchanted
forest, had cried and screamed out her orgasmic pleasure,
echoing the rich, full passion of her young womanhood again
and again?  Had I not seen this same girl's head of raven-dark
hair bury itself between the even darker curls of her
mischievous companion, the virginal but promising Ariel, until
she too was bucking and gurgling with equal pleasure?
     And yet, it was still this impression of innocence that
overcame all my intimate, though clandestine, knowledge of the
girl and, as Karl assisted with the removal of the girl's
short silk tunic and Jennifer's nakedness was unfolded once
more unto my view, I confess I blushed like a bridegroom.
     However it was not to me, but to the polished table
before us that Jennifer was now to be wedded, and it was to
the three down-hanging phalli above that the young "bride's"
eyes were now drawn in clear incomprehension, the purpose of
the apparatus still as much a mystery to her as it was to
myself.
     The girl was lifted onto the table and the hands of both
Karl and Alex made quick work of securing the supple leather
straps across the much more tender hide of the girl.
     I must note here that the configuration of straps upon
this particular table were, in fact, somewhat unique from
others I had observed previously at the Chateau.  There were
about ten separate straps, as I recall, more than upon any
like table I had seen before.  First there were the usual
straps restraining wrists and ankles, the former fixing wrists
tightly to the table, not with the girl's arms stretched high
above her head as I had come to expect, but binding them
immovably to the table at the girl's sides.  There were, in
addition, two straps binding the girl's upper arms tightly to
the table as well.  Jennifer's legs, widely spread, so that I
could easily observe the delicate folds of the small, soft,
girlish slit between, had been draped over the table's end,
bending at the knees, so that her ankles could be strapped to
the table legs below.  Again, as in the case of her arms, an
additional pair of straps crossed the girl's legs, just at
mid-thigh, fixing both appendages in place as immovable as
stone.
     Now came the application of additional restraints.  Two
wide leather straps were drawn across the girl's torso, one
just above, and the other just below, her small, tender-
looking breasts, and were pulled tight, causing the twin,
sweet pears to bulge upward more pronounced than was their
want, the small, rose-coloured nipples ripening to impetuous
points forcibly directed toward the ceiling above, from which
dangled the India rubber hoses, their ends not six inches
above those tender nubbins of flesh.
     Yet another, wider, strap was now buckled across the
girl's narrow waist, just above her hips, and when all was
done at last, young Jennifer lay fixed to the smooth surface
of the table so tightly and immovably that not even a violent
earthquake would have moved her body out of position.
     A small leather pillow was brought, and this was placed
beneath Jennifer's head.  All that remained to be done was to
fix the usual hard rubber bit between the girl's fine, white
teeth, and then all was truly ready.
     It was then that Mlle. T. explained the "ordeal of the
water" to me in full.
     I have noted that two of the dangling hoses from the
ceiling above now hung just a few inches above Jennifer's taut
young nipples.  The third of these hoses was now positioned
about six inches or so above the sweet junction of the girl's
widely splayed thighs, its end was now aimed, by Alex's
knowing hand, directly at the small folds of flesh at the
summit of Jennifer's slit, below which the girl's delicate
clitoris lay hidden.
     The Ordeal of the Water.  I suppose my own innocence and
naivete must have been giving way as my education at the
Chateau had progressed so far, for now, even as Mlle. T. went
about explaining the nature of the "ordeal", I had already
begun to guess at it.
     The procedure was perhaps the most simple, and yet the
most ingenious of all the many operations I observed in my
years at the Chateau Noir.  It was as follows.  Water from the
neighbouring fresh-water spring was pumped through an opening
in the chamber's ceiling and into the large collection pan a
few inches below.  From this collection pan there were
suspended the three hoses fed by the water from above.  The
flow of that water through the stiff rubber hoses could then
be regulated by way of the graduated clamps near the end of
each of hose.
     And finally, the water falling from the hose ends would,
with a force and regularity that was adjustable by the fine
degrees of the each hose's individual clamp, spill onto the
tender flesh of the girl strapped immovably below.  The three
intended targets of the dripping water?  The little red
nipples at the summit of those twin pear-shaped breasts, and
the small nub of the girl's sensitive clitoris.
     The girl who lay strapped before us listened to Mlle.
T.'s explanation as intently as did I, and as the purpose for
the apparatus above became clear to her, I saw her wriggle a
bit against the confinement of her restraints, or attempt to
wriggle, that is, for this slight testing of her bindings
proved absolutely fruitless.  Jennifer was held quite
motionless, her tentative struggle amounting to results that
were little more than a slight vibration of her small frame,
a sort of shiver.
     Indeed, there must have been in the girl's mind no real
need for struggle.  The "ordeal" she now understood herself
about to induce surely must have seemed something much less
uncomfortable than many other procedures she had no doubt
heard rumoured, or even reported to her first hand, by her
sister students.  But for all that, the bit, the security of
her restraints, all this must have yet given the girl pause to
wonder if something more alarming perhaps lay ahead in the
"ordeal of the water."
     Mlle. T. now approached the head of the table, as I had
seen her do before and have seen her do uncounted times since,
in a brief, controlled expression of care and feeling for her
young charges just before an important lesson or test in their
training.  She stood for a moment, stroking the girl's
forehead, brushing away the straight, dark hair, mopping at
the small glint of moisture the warm dampness of the room or
the girl's apprehensive excitement had precipitated.
     "Now, my dear.  This will test you more than you
anticipate, I fear.  And that is good.  For what you are to
learn here is the excitement of the flesh that you must not
attempt to escape.  It is the source of man's pleasure, and
the source of a woman's power as well.  That is the lesson of
the Water.  It is the pleasure that cannot be avoided, that
should not be feared.  It is the great truth that there is no
degree of pleasure that a woman cannot endure.  Once you
accept this, once you experience this, you will never run from
ecstasy again.  You will seek it in the beds of men and women. 
You will not be able to live without it.  It will become as
necessary to the sustenance of your life as food, as air, as
water itself.  And throughout your life you will know no
single pleasure as intense as the pleasure you are about to
experience now."
     I saw Mlle. T. smile indulgently at the obvious look of
panic from the girl lying before her.  "You will struggle, my
dear.  You will attempt to escape the caress of the water with
all your heart and soul, so intense will be the pleasure it
affords.  But, after a time, you will transcend that pleasure,
you will overcome that panic, that fear.  And you will be
stronger for it, as are all my girls when their training has
come to an end."
     Mlle. T.'s brief smile had come and gone in an instant. 
"So be brave, my dear Jennifer," she called, stepping back
from the table and motioning to Alex to set the "ordeal" in
motion.  A small, brave whimper came in answer from the bound
girl, as Alex moved to the far wall, into which was set a
small hand-crank.  Two quick turns of this and there was a
liquid rush of water into the reservoir pan just beneath the
ceiling.  The servant waited a moment or two, then backed the
incoming current of water of slightly with one-and-a-half
reverse turns of the crank.  He then walked back to the
restraining table and began to adjust the clamps fixed to the
three rubber hoses.
     Jennifer gasped through her gagging bit, as the first
cool droplets of water fell from the end of the first hose and
landed with a soft plop upon the tip of her straining left
breast.  The girl's eyes watched as the dripping became a
steady plop... plop... plop against the little rosette nub. 
Her eyes darted right as a second stream of droplets opened
onto her other breast as well.  Her reactions were not of
panic now, or of alarm.  She simply seemed to attune herself
to the strange feel of this new sensation, collecting her
impressions, absorbing the sensory input and apparently
judging it to be easily endurable.
     It was not until the adjusting clamp on the third hose,
the one suspended above the tender apex of the girl's parted
sex opening, that Jennifer seemed to have pause in her
acceptance of her unusual circumstances.  As the first few
droplets pattered down upon the pink hood covering her sweet
clit, the girl genuinely tried to wriggle away from this new
watery stimulation, much as I had seen her attempt to squirm
away from the first, tentative lapping of her roommate's
little tongue the night before.  But here, of course, there
was no room to squirm away.  So tightly was our Jennifer
bound, as I have said, that not even the most violent
undulation of her frame could have moved any of the three
fleshy targets from the precise aim of the continuously-
falling spring water.
     Adjusting to this additional stimulus to her lower
regions, as I say, appeared to be somewhat more difficult for
Jennifer to reconcile herself to.  Her eyes now held more than
a note of panic.  It was the voluptuous tickle of water
against the top of her slit that was torturing her now, the
sensation having not as of yet been converted into a
sensuality of a more sexual nature.
     Such a conversion was not more than a few minutes in
developing however, as Mlle. T. attracted silently my notice
to a small, physical change in the girl.  As I watched, I
witnessed the change at the moment it occurred.  The droplets
of water upon Jennifer's young nipples had caused those red
nubbins to grow almost instantly stiff and erect, the natural
result of the cool temperature of the water falling against
warm flesh.  Such a reaction would have occurred in a cool
bath or a brisk northern breeze.  There was nothing at all
sexual about it.
     But now, again, as I stood witness, the falling water
from the third hose, the one directed to the girl's parted
sex, was having an effect that could only have been one of
true arousal.  Slowly, as if by degrees in strict accord to
the number of droplets as they fell upon the hood of flesh
above, Jennifer's young clitoris began to put forth an
appearance from beneath that hood.  Soon it stood proudly, and
hugely for such a small young woman, all a glowing pink, a
little nub, like a large pink pearl, pulsing with every new
droplet of water that fell.
     Jennifer, while perhaps not aware in her innocence the
physical manifestation her arousal presented us, was most
certainly aware of the emotional reactions bubbling sweetly
within her at the watery stimulation of her young clit.  She
had begun to breath pantingly around the gag of her rubber
bit.  There was a more definite sheen of perspiration upon her
soft brow.  Indeed, her entire body was covered by this sheen
of newly aroused passion.
     No doubt her body would by now have been tossing and
writhing with great abandon had her binding restraints not
prevented any such motion.  As if was, only a trembling, a
violent tightening and releasing of young muscle in coltish
legs, arms and heaving torso alike announced the sensations
coursing through a body coming suddenly, reluctantly, alive
with lust.
      I was about to direct a question to Mlle. T., who stood
at my shoulder, as to how long the girl's torment was
prescribed to endure, when a new sound from Jennifer silenced
me.
     "Guh... guh... gawwwww...!"
     She seemed to be experiencing some difficulty in
breathing around the obstruction of her rubber bit.  There was
then a massively drawn intake of breath, followed by a sort of
muscular convulsion throughout her entire body, retrained to
a mere protracted tremor beneath the tight leather straps.
     Then, a scream as from the depths of hell itself caused
me to jump back in alarm.
     Mlle. T.'s whispered at my side.  "Now it has started,
Thomas.  And so soon!"
     A cry begun as a gagging, choked intake of breath was
followed by a two-note shrieking wail, as if of unendurable
torment.  The cry echoed through the chamber again and again,
blending into new cries from their original source.  The young
girl's orgasms must have been intense beyond anything one
could imagine.
     Much later, when my knowledge of the Chateau Noir and the
methods of its mistress had grown, Mlle. T. told me that it,
indeed, was the opinion of many experts the world over and the
testimony of many an ancient text down through the ages that
the pleasures of orgasm for the woman, when property
precipitated, are of an intensity completely unachievable by
the male of the species.
     My observation of young Jennifer, as she glided from one
high summit of orgasmic response to the next under the Ordeal
of the Water bore this out with impunity.  And I will go
further, and say that I believe to this very day that no male
would be able to endure such intensity of pleasure without
losing his life or, at least, his sanity.  And it is this, I
believe, this incapacity to experience the apex of human
pleasure, that apex reserved exclusively for the female, that
ultimately accounts for the male's primordial fascination with
the female orgasm, the fear of it, and that based in jealousy
of course, which often leads to the baser compulsion to
dominate the female and, in more purer male souls, to a heart-
felt reverence for the ultimate sacredness of the female that
is the just basis for her clear superiority over the male.
     So it was that, without quite knowing it then, I was this
day becoming a giant step closer to discovering the deeply
underlying philosophy, the basic underpinning as it were, of
the Chateau Noir and all that occurred there.
     As for young Jennifer?  Her ordeal lasted over two entire
days and two entire nights!  Sometime during the closing hours
Mlle. T. and myself visited that chamber once again.  By this
time the girl seemed barely sane.  Her voice had long hours
since grown hoarse from her prolonged screams of orgasmic
release, and now each of Jennifer's successive peaks of
passion was accompanied by only a harsh whispery exhalation of
breath around the lubricated bit between her tightly clenched
teeth.
     Likewise had the soft leather restraints which still held
her so tightly bound been carefully lubricated to prevent
chafing through the long hours of desperate struggle for
release and the convulsive spasms of pleasure attained.
     Jennifer's hollow eyes stared straight ahead now, except
for when the clenched tightly shut against each on-coming wave
of passion.  The timbers of the wooden table creaked and
groaned as each of these waves swept across the young woman
held bound to them, so strenuous were her muscular tugs and
strainings against the leather straps.
     At the conclusion of each of these spasms, a fresh
trickle of drool would escape from the sweet, bitted mouth,
and fresh beads of sweet-scented perspiration, the dew of
female orgasm, would blossom along the length of Jennifer's
tensed, naked flesh.
     The water from the three torturingly pleasuring hoses ran
steadily across the table's waxed surface to run away into a
collecting earthenware vessel placed unto the floor beneath,
a sweet mixture of fresh spring water with the luxuriant,
perfumed effluvia of a beautiful young woman undergoing the
absolute ultimate in earthly pleasure.
     What a sweet libation such liquid would make!
     Not surprisingly, Mlle. T. was well aware of this truth,
as indeed the woman seemed aware of all great truths.  The
sweet liquid in the jar below the table was to be bottled at
the Chateau Noir and sold, at quite an exorbitant price
naturally, to one or two of Mlle. T.'s most affluent
customers.



Review This Story || Author: Frank Watson
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