Cassandra's Conflict (15 page)

Peter heard and knew that once she did that it would all be over for him. Cassandra heard too, and almost in a trance she obeyed. All her earlier fears had vanished as she'd experienced the sense of power that so appealed to Katya, and now the feel of Peter's pulsating flesh in her mouth was an aphrodisiac and her whole body felt as excited as if someone had been arousing her.

Her slim hand worked its way between the jeans and Peter's flesh, and on round to the crease between his hard buttocks. The light, inexpert touch was even more arousing than Katya's knowing fingers, and as Cassandra's mouth continued to suck deeply and her tongue flicked round the head the final intrusion of a finger into the sensitive skin of the opening to his rectum triggered Peter's ejaculation and he didn't have a chance to look to his employer for permission as his sperm was finally released and spurted into Cassandra's mouth.

At that moment she did try to draw away, but the baron's hands held her head firmly in place and he instructed her to keep sucking and swallowing until the lad's body had finally stopped jerking in the chair because Cassandra had milked him dry. When her head was released, Cassandra felt a pang of loss and she tried to give Peter one last, appreciative lick but he almost screamed with discomfort and the baron laughed deep in his throat as he tenderly moved her away from the prone lad.

'You'll hurt him if you don't let him rest. Unfortunately men aren't like women. One is all we get at a time! How well you did, my darling. Wasn't she clever, Katya? I've rarely seen Peter so excited.'

'She was better than I'd expected,' Katya admitted. 'Well done, Cassie,' she added with an attempt at a smile.

Cassandra pushed her hair back over her naked shoulders in an unselfconscious gesture that greatly excited the baron. 'Please don't call me Cassie, Katya. I'm sure I asked you not to once before.'

Katya's eyes blazed. 'We employ you, Cassie. I think you'd do well to remember that.'

'I employ her,' the baron said calmly. 'If she wishes to be called Cassandra then that's what she shall be called. Stand up my dear, let me look at you.'

Cassandra stood in front of him, her cheeks flushed from bending over Peter, her nipples erect from the excitement of the whole experience and a look of triumph in her eyes because now Helena could go to Austria and she would be here alone with this man who was beginning to dominate her every waking moment. Unlike Abigail she was not afraid of Katya, because Katya had very little authority unless the baron allowed it.

The baron saw the triumph in her eyes and savoured it. It had been a difficult challenge but she'd come through it well; as she took each advancing step she enabled him to broaden the scope of the game. Now that she was well grounded in the basics he could increase the degree of sophistication, which was why he was sending the children away.

Tomorrow, when the girls had gone, Rupert and Françoise Piccard would arrive and the pace and manner of the game would change dramatically. He always enjoyed their visits. He and Rupert had grown up together, had their first sexual experiences at the same time and knew each other's deepest, darkest secrets.

Cassandra was still standing in front of the baron. Idly he reached out and let his hands move down the sides of her, tightening their grip at her narrow waist. He put one hand in the small of her back and pushed so that her flat abdomen was forced forward. Bending his head he flicked his tongue into her navel, swirling it round just as she had swirled her tongue round Peter's swollen glans. She moaned softly and he let his free hand wander between her thighs, pressing his fingers against the crotch of her panties where they encountered immediate evidence of her own sexual excitement.

For a moment he let his fingers play against the damp cloth, fingering her through the material and feeling her lips beginning to swell and part, but when she tried to move against his hand he stopped, stood up straight again and then pulled the pants down by hooking his fingers in each side of the waistband.

'I'm sure Katya's thirsty after all the excitement,' he said casually. 'Come and drink from Cassandra, darling, while Peter here gets dressed and finds us all some lunch.'

Katya came quickly to his side and then knelt in front of Cassandra, pushing at the inside of the girl's thighs until she spread her legs a little wider giving Katya better access. Carefully, Katya spread the outer lips and began to lick at the moist channel, letting her tongue dip now and again into the vaginal entrance before spreading the milky secretion up the inner lips but she was careful not to touch the slowly protruding bud of pleasure directly, only swirling her tongue around it so that the hood drew back leaving the tight mass of nerve endings begging for a caress.

Cassandra's legs began to shake with sexual tension and she tried to move her hips so that Katya's tongue would touch that part of her that was aching and tightening more and more as the clever tongue continued to swirl around all the rest of her.

'Keep still and look into my eyes,' the baron said. Cassandra did as he said, and his eyes seemed to draw her out of herself and into him so that she felt as though she didn't exist except as a part of him, and the life he was creating for her.

Katya slipped her tongue inside Cassandra's damp opening and curled it up against the front wall, pressing as hard as she could against the G-spot. Cassandra's toes began to curl and she whimpered without knowing it because her eyes were still locked on the baron's and she was almost drowning in the warm depth of his gaze.

Her lips parted, her breasts rose and fell, the neglected nipples rigid and dark with desire and while the baron never released Cassandra's eyes his right hand made a small gesture to Katya who swiftly removed her tongue, moved it up the slippery sides of the inner lips and then flicked rapidly against the underside of the desperate clitoris with three lightning-fast, feather-like movements.

It was the trigger for Cassandra's release and she gasped, rising up on her toes and almost falling so that the baron had to reach out and pull her naked body against him as she shivered and trembled in his arms, continuing to jerk long after Katya's tongue had been withdrawn. Finally she was still and the baron bent and lowered her to the carpet. 'Well, time for our next course I think. Peter, why aren't you dressed yet?'

Katya and Dieter both looked at the lad, whose state of semi-arousal was obvious to them both. 'Not yet I'm afraid,' the baron said shortly. 'Katya seems to be making you greedy. Perhaps you should have a few days starvation!'

Katya made a face. 'I only use him because you're away or busy so much.'

'You sound like a complaining wife,' he said shortly. 'Cassandra, get dressed. And tidy your hair, you look like a cheap whore lying there like that. I can hardly believe you're the same girl I interviewed such a short time ago.'

Although he sounded annoyed he smiled at Katya who smiled back at him as they remembered the video they had of Cassandra's first visit to the house. Poor Cassandra, still shaken by the violence of her own orgasm and the experience with Peter, quickly got to her feet and pulled on her clothes.

Suddenly she felt like a whore, and yet only moments before she'd been certain that there was something special between her and the baron, something that he and Katya didn't share and which would keep them together for a long time. Now it seemed that she'd imagined it all and only pride kept her from weeping, but as she passed the baron to go and tidy herself up he reached out, squeezed her round the waist and gave her one of his rare but enchanting smiles. Since Katya didn't see it, it meant that both she and Cassandra ended up feeling well pleased with their unusual lunch.

As to what the baron really felt, only he knew; and he never told anyone anything.

'You'll like Rupert,' the baron said as the front door bell rang. 'I'm not so sure about Françoise; Katya and she are great friends but ...' He shrugged, as though to indicate that he didn't necessarily expect Cassandra would share the friendship.

'I've heard of him,' Cassandra replied. 'Paul used to love watching the skiing on Sunday afternoons, and he was world champion for a time, wasn't he?'

'Indeed. However, the training is hard, the discipline continuous and Rupert likes to enjoy life, so he retired and married Françoise.'

'Is she French?'

The baron shook his head. 'Brazilian, I think. She was a model but she comes from the slums and you know what they say about that. You can take the child out of the slums but you cannot take the slums out of the child. Françoise is living proof of the truth of this! Amusing of course, but not quite what one would have expected of Rupert, except that she is the unexpected!'

There was the sound of voices in the hallway, and a baby cried. 'There are also now twin boys, not yet a year old as I recall.'

'Will I be looking after them?' Cassandra queried.

'Of course not. You will be looking after us! No, they have brought their own nannies, and probably a paediatrician, too. Rupert is terrified of losing one of his heirs! Come and meet them all. We will have great fun over the next few days I think.'

His eyes were glowing and his face livelier than she had ever seen it, yet Cassandra felt very uneasy. She was just about managing to cope with the baron, Katya, Lucy and Peter; the thought of becoming involved with yet more people was a terrifying one, but she knew that if she wanted to stay in the baron's house – and she did – then she must learn to cope with his friends, whatever they might be like.

Like most women her first impression of Rupert Piccard was that he was stunningly handsome. He had rather long, blue-black hair, piercing blue eyes with black lashes and a darkly tanned face with gleaming white teeth. The teeth were very slightly crooked, a small imperfection that was fortunate because it added character to features that would otherwise have been too perfect. He was taller than the baron by about two inches, but much slimmer than Cassandra had expected. She supposed it was because whenever she'd seen him he'd been well padded out in ski clothes.

Rupert smiled warmly when the baron introduced Cassandra, but he seemed a little surprised by her. 'I thought you said she was a redhead, Dieter?'

'That was Abigail. She is no longer here. She disappointed me.'

'Right! I see. Well, Cassandra doesn't look in the least disappointing. English women are so wonderfully unsophisticated. I can understand why you choose to live here, Dieter! Cassandra meet Françoise, my wife.'

Françoise, who'd been deep in conversation with Katya, turned to look at Cassandra through her slanting dark eyes. She was tall, at least five feet nine inches, and very slim with a golden brown skin and her black hair with copper highlights fell to her shoulders in natural curls. She was wearing a tight multi-coloured silk dress with a sash tied round her nonexistent hips and seemed like some exotic bird that had strayed into the wrong country by mistake.

Cassandra held out her hand again, and knew that Françoise didn't like her any more than Katya did. The handshake was brief, the smile never touched the eyes and she sounded bored as she murmured a greeting.

The baron watched from the shadows and smiled to himself. He'd known that Katya would quickly get Françoise onto her side, just as he'd known that Rupert would find Cassandra as fascinating as he did, and so far everything was going very well.

Behind the two women stood a short, slightly overweight girl with heavy-lidded eyes and a sulky mouth. She was holding a chubby baby in each arm, but paid them very little attention as they waved their hands around in the air and yelled for food.

At last the noise seemed to penetrate Françoise's brain and she turned to the adolescent girl. 'Why don't you keep them quiet, Clara?' she demanded, her voice deep and authoritative. 'If I'd known how stupid you were I would never have agreed to take you into our household. Your poor stepfather has been very unlucky.'

The hapless Clara went bright red but she didn't attempt to defend herself, and at that moment a much older woman in nanny's uniform came through the front door, took the babies from the girl and turned to Rupert. 'Where is the nursery?' she asked crisply, and Cassandra realised with some surprise that the woman was Scottish.

'On the second floor, you have three rooms adjoining,' the baron replied, his gaze on the overweight adolescent now standing alone with her tight dress sticking to her ample breasts and thighs.

'Look at her!' Rupert laughed. 'I mentioned her in my letter didn't I, Dieter? She's Claud Brunswick's stepdaughter. Her father died last year, and apparently until then she'd been kept at home all her life. Governesses, nannies, private dancing lessons but absolutely no contact with the outside world. Claud felt Françoise and I could widen her horizons while he and her mama are on their honeymoon cruise. We're doing our best, in fact Françoise has hardly left her alone during the journey, but we've kept her intact for you.'

He laughed and so did Katya and Françoise, but Cassandra could only look at the girl with pity. She was probably about eighteen, and if she could shed some of her puppy fat would have been quite good looking, but her painful silence and unfortunate sullen expression made her presence among these glittering people ridiculous.

Françoise reached out and took hold of one of Clara's large breasts, clearly visible through the dress. She squeezed it for a moment, then let it rest in her hand. 'I adore her breasts,' she informed Katya. 'Sometimes I go to her room in the night, wake her up and just lie there licking and nibbling on them for hours. I wish I could have breasts like that.'

'You'd look ridiculous!' Rupert exclaimed with a laugh. The baron still kept his eyes fixed on the girl, assessing her reactions to Françoise's touch and casual talk.

Françoise went across to the baron. 'How are you, darling Dieter? You look as fit as ever. Is he fit?' she enquired of Cassandra.

'I've no idea,' Cassandra said calmly. 'I look after the children.'

'In that case why aren't you in Austria?'

'Perhaps I thought some of our visitors were still children,' the baron said with a lopsided smile.

Françoise didn't seem certain how to deal with his remark and looked to her husband for assistance, but Rupert only laughed again. 'Well said, Dieter. You're right of course, Françoise hasn't grown up at all, that's why she treats Clara like a toy'

'She looks very exciting,' Katya said softly. Françoise nodded vigorously. 'She is! Let me show you. Clara, come with us. Are we in our usual room, Dieter?'

'Of course.'

'Good. Come along, Clara, and Katya too. You men can talk about the usual boring sport for a time.' She hesitated. 'What about her?' she asked Katya, pointing to Cassandra.

'Cassandra works for me,' the baron said coldly. 'I decide where Cassandra goes, not Katya.'

Françoise pulled a face. 'Where is your sense of humour, Dieter?'

'Stored away with your brain, Françoise.'

Françoise glared at him and flounced upstairs, pushing the heavy-breasted Clara ahead of her. Cassandra found herself alone with the two men. 'Perhaps you could make us some coffee, Cassandra?' the baron suggested, and she was grateful for a chance to get away on her own.

After the men had been served coffee, Cassandra went up to her own room to change for dinner. On the landing she paused, hearing the sound of soft sobs coming from one of the guest rooms, but she quickly hurried on. What happened to Clara was none of her business, and since her stepfather knew Rupert she told herself that it couldn't be anything too terrible; all the same, the girl's heavy eyes and sullen docility disturbed her.

After she'd bathed she was just pulling on her silk stockings when there was a brief tap on her door and the baron entered. 'I hope I'm in time, my dear. I want you to have these again tonight.' He held out his hand, and nestling in the palm were some more Japanese love balls, but these were larger than the first ones she'd had and she could vividly imagine the effect they'd have on her.

'Lie on the bed,' he said softly. 'I'll put them in for you.'

'Why tonight?' she asked.

'To add to the stimulation of what promises to be an excellent evening. Wear the tight panties as well, I want to know that every time you sit or bend the pressure is there for you, arousing you, but of course there must be no release!' He laughed, as though such a thought was ridiculous.

'Why are they bigger?'

'Because you're more advanced, you can stand greater stimulation.'

He pressed her back against the bedcover and she spread her legs for him, but when he put a hand between the join of her thighs she was dry. He quickly pushed up the camisole top she'd just put on and began to suck on her nipples. He sucked very slowly, gradually increasing the pressure and drawing his head slightly away so that the nipples were elongated by the movement at the same time as they became excited. The two small breasts themselves started to swell and he reached out and rubbed her stomach, his palm flat against the taut skin. He pressed quite firmly and she felt a glow building up inside her, pleasantly warm at first and then more urgent and all the time he continued sucking on her nipples and tugging them as though milking her.

It was bliss for several minutes, but then she realised that she needed to use the bathroom and wished he'd hurry up and insert the love balls so that she could relieve herself. The baron saw the change of expression in her eyes and wished he had the time to exploit the new sensation, but he didn't.

'Keep still,' he murmured, then moved away, releasing her breasts and stomach as he checked that she was now moist between her thighs. She was, and although she found the first ball difficult to take, he coaxed and encouraged her until all three were in, then got her to stand up and walk round the room, the string hanging between her outer lips and sticking to her secretions. Finally he pulled her down onto his knee and rocked her to and fro. The balls moved within her, the hood of her clitoris pulled slightly, pressure began to build within her and moisture seeped out between her distended lips and onto the thick dark curls of pubic hair.

The baron laughed and pushed her gently off him. 'Excellent! A good start to the evening. Now go and use the bathroom, finish your dressing and join us in the study for drinks. Wear the turquoise silk that I bought you. Oh yes, and no stockings. The silk will feel better against naked thighs.'

He left and as the door closed Cassandra felt a frantic desire to dash after him and implore him to let her have just one climax before dinner, some relief from the steady aching need that he'd deliberately started within her and which would, she knew, increase all through the evening, but there was no point, she simply had to bear it.

When she was finally ready she was just leaving her room when Françoise came down the landing. 'There you are! Dieter told me to make sure and catch you before you went down. You are to come and see Clara. She's in our room at the moment.'

Cassandra followed Françoise, now dressed in an equally exotic silk trouser suit, into the large bedroom and then stopped in amazement. In the middle of the king-size bed lay a naked Clara. Her large, unconstrained breasts were being stroked by Katya, whose hands were encased in sheepskin covered mittens which were obviously driving Clara to distraction. Her nipples were so tight they looked ready to burst, and just as Cassandra came into the room Katya took off a mitten and flicked one of the nipples hard with her middle finger. Clara cried out and the nipple reddened. Katya smiled, flicked at it twice more, and then replaced the mitten and began stroking the damaged flesh with the insidiously soft sheepskin again.

It was obvious that this treatment had been going on for a long time. Clara's hands were tied through rings above her head which forced her breasts upright to make them an easier target, while Lucy was crouched at the foot of the bed holding the girl's ankles apart.

Françoise looked over her shoulder at Cassandra. 'Clara adores this, just watch. It's one of the first things I ever taught her to like. Until then I don't think she'd even touched herself below the waist!' From the foot of the bed Françoise picked up a small feather duster, similar to ones used for lampshades or ornaments, and she ran this tenderly up the girl's thighs, moving it round in tiny circles and making Lucy push Clara's ankles up the bed so that she could 'dust' behind her knees before she moved higher to work on the inner thighs.

Poor Clara groaned and cried, obviously in despair because she hadn't yet been allowed an orgasm and her plump abdomen seemed to be swelling even more under the cunning attentions of the two women who were obviously thrilled with their new toy. Eventually the duster moved to the abdomen itself and Clara cried out with pleasure, the skin tensing as the nerve endings flashed signals of delight into her brain.

'She'll have to come soon,' Cassandra said, seeing how Clara's head was thrashing from side to side.

'Come? But no. There has not yet been an orgasm for Clara. She has had to keep waiting until tonight. She is our present to Dieter. He will give her her first climax after dinner. Won't that be nice, Clara?' she added, letting the duster slip between the thighs for a brief second but quickly removing it when the over-excited flesh leapt in response.

'You mean you've been treating her like this and never let her come?' Cassandra asked, unable to keep her eyes away from the plump, uninitiated body on the bed, so skilfully trained and yet so miserably unfulfilled.

'Of course. Rupert has sometimes joined me too, but he uses his tongue on her, doesn't he Clara? She likes that, although she doesn't think she should because her mother has brought her up to be a silly prude. Now, we must tie her feet before we go down to dinner, and you must keep her stimulated, Lucy, but only a little. Keep her aroused, but not too close to release or Dieter will be cross with us all.'