The Classic Olivia M. Ravensworth

Chapter One-2

“Perhaps I’d better,” Katherine said quickly. “I’ve had a long day.”

“Very well, miss.” Vaclav nodded judiciously, then set his gray eyes upon the chambermaids. “Marie will show you to your room.”

One of the girls stepped out of line, and Katherine walked over to her, a little uncertain. The girl smiled. “Your room is this way, mademoiselle, if you please.”

Katherine turned to the stairs, but at the bottom step she stopped suddenly. When she looked back, she saw that the rest of the staff still waited in respectful silence. Her eyes scanned their politely disinterested faces slowly, and she swallowed, feeling her throat tight.

“Thank you all,” Katherine said, uncomfortably sure that it came out awkward and formal. Nevertheless, she forced herself to follow through. “Good night.”

To her surprise, they all returned, “Good night, miss.” Her servants began to disperse, and she turned gratefully back to the stairs.

Katherine followed Marie’s trim, black-stockinged calves up the wide staircase, a familiar flutter in the pit of her belly. The chambermaid’s flouncy taffeta skirt rustled seductively about her shapely young thighs as she led Katherine silently down the hall to the new mistress’s bedroom. Finally, the girl halted before a deeply paneled wooden door.

“Your room, mademoiselle,” Marie smiled and murmured softly. Her accent was beautiful.

“Uh, thank you.” Katherine laid her hand on the burnished brass door handle, depressed the heavy lever, and pushed the great door open slowly.

The room was spacious and richly appointed, yet its atmosphere was nothing like that of the castle’s hard, formal entryway. Her chamber was soft and comfortable-looking, dominated by a large canopied bed. The servants apparently had redecorated after the death of her ancient relative, for the bed was done up in flowery feminine covers. Large tapestries hung between the tall mullioned windows, softening the hard stone of the exterior wall, while patterned red wallpaper covered the interior subdividing walls. Deep Oriental rugs were thrown about the hardwood flooring. Fragrant, crackling logs burned brightly in the fireplace.

“Behind that door, mademoiselle, is a bathroom.” Marie indicated a door in a newer wall, which was obviously lath and plaster rather than ancient stone. “Electric light switch here. Nightgowns and extra bedclothes in the closet. If you require my sister or me, simply ring this bell.” She smiled sweetly and pointed to a thick silken pull-cord which hung from a small hole in the ceiling. The knotted, tasseled end of the golden cord dangled near the head of the bed, within reach of even the most languid hand.

Though it made sense that struck Katherine as somehow — well, almost decadent. How strange to have a servant waiting upon your every whim, even as you lay in bed…

“Thank you, Marie,” Katherine said somewhat awkwardly. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But of course, mademoiselle,” Marie replied, almost mischievously. “Good night.” She stepped out into the corridor with a whoosh of her short skirts and pulled the heavy door closed behind her.

Katherine looked at her bags, which sat beside an elegant mirrored dresser. Karl must have brought them up into her bedroom, and for a moment she thought about that. After he set down the bags, had he left quickly, feeling like a trespasser in that most personal of rooms? Or had he lingered there in her boudoir, perhaps letting his eyes travel curiously about? Really, he seemed such a nice man.

Katherine tuned off the lights, and the room was suffused with the rosy glow of the flickering firelight. Despite the warmth, she shivered briefly.

She sat down gingerly on the edge of the great canopied, four-poster bed and looked slowly around, trying to accustom herself to her new surroundings. This was to be her very own room, but still it seemed new and foreign. She felt strangely out of place, as if at any moment the room’s rightful occupant might enter and find her there undressing. The thought was almost a little exciting.

But it was silly, she knew, for now she was mistress of the castle. This was where she belonged.

Again she looked around. Yes, finally she was alone. She took a deep breath.

Katherine let herself drop backward into the freshly made bed, and sank contentedly into its deep goose down mattress. She wriggled under the sheets. She felt that flutter again in her taut belly, a shiver of anticipation which made her heart beat more insistently as she pulled the quilted covers up about her chin and began working feverishly at the buttons of her blouse.

Sighing, Katherine shrugged her lacy white brassiere down out of the way and clutched eagerly at her soft young breasts. The girl moaned as her smooth palms found n*****s which ached to be fondled. She caressed the tender pink-brown buds, gently at first, stroking them coyly into erectness. Yet soon she worked more roughly, pinching, twisting, pulling the tender flesh with practiced fingers, sending a powerful electric shock straight to her rapidly moistening crotch.

She was tremendously aroused, barely able to control herself as her hands roamed the eager body quivering beneath the covers. She had been vaguely unsatisfied for days, but simply had not had the chance to take care of herself as she winged swiftly across the slate gray Atlantic and railroaded from station to station ever eastward through the European countryside. She had tingled with unfulfilled erotic hunger.

The final straw had been the ride to the castle with Karl. Watching his broad shoulders mile after mile had been more than the frustrated girl could take, for it was all too easy for her to imagine the strong man’s body beneath his chauffeur’s jacket, imagine his hard-muscled nakedness glistening with fresh beads of sweat. If only he could have sensed her terrible thoughts, how might he have responded? Almost unbidden, her mind had conjured up the images—how he might lie back and stroke himself while she watched.

That idea was a familiar one in her fantasies, and it was not difficult to project Karl into the often-imagined scene. She would stare entranced, silent as he handled himself, and her eyes would coax him onward. He would do the things she craved to see, until his rigid, pulsing manhood finally spurted its powerful jets freely across his straining body—and across her own slim fingers flying wickedly over sticky pink labia.

Yet she had been able to do no more than rub her thighs together in a pale imitation of the glories she truly craved. She bit her lips as she remember that covert attempt to pleasure herself, and she sank lower in the bed as she realized that finally she was free to give herself the familiar sensations her passionate nature demanded.

Though no man had ever possessed her virgin body, Katherine was only too well aware of how to satisfy the needs of her blossoming young womanhood. She had recognized her emergent sexuality long ago and learned over the years to explore and cherish herself, to pamper the innocent flesh whose shameless desires she fueled with the rich and varied imaginings of fantasy. How many times had she m*********d herself blissfully to sleep in the privacy of her darkened room, then awakened in the morning and, with fingertips still deliciously musky from her sweaty gasping of the night before, pleasured herself again before getting out of bed? Perhaps the better question was of how many times she had not.

Still plucking roughly at the stiff peaks of her tingling n*****s, Katherine opened her jeans with clumsy haste one-handed—and then forced her ravishing hand to slow itself. She felt as if she could almost rape herself, so ferociously horny was she, yet she also knew the shameless pleasures of teasing oneself to a shrieking delirium. As much as she wanted to explode, she knew she had to wait. There were still many dirty little games she had to play with herself first.

Slowly, slowly, she allowed her right hand to slide silkily down toward the secret place where it longed to be. Polished red nails glided over a shivering abdomen, scratched tantalizingly through tight auburn curls whose faint s****l aroma her nose could now discern. The scent was warm, reassuringly familiar. The dense fur grew moist as she pushed lower, slipped her tapering white fingertips across the slick pink flesh that waited there, warm and open and ready. Shuddering, she pulled her head under the comforting thickness of the covers and breathed in the intoxicating fragrance of her undeniable desire, a salty scent which filled the intimate darkness.

Her body responded instinctively as she touched herself, hips grinding to the sensual tempo of her practiced hand. Between the thick, parted lips of her vulva nestled another set of lips, sensitive flesh about whose tremulous folds she purposefully dragged her knowing fingertips. It was difficult not to pull those tender labia minora wide open. Katherine longed to fill herself, to slip one, then two, three, four slick digits right up into the open flower of her wanton womanhood while her thumb rubbed its aching little bud with glorious abandon.

Yet she would not. No, not yet. She groaned as she teased herself, delicately stroking pink petals slippery with her own wanton lubrication. Katherine finally gave her agonized n*****s a rest and reached down her other hand to part her eager inner lips. She felt naked down there, exposed as the air cooled the hidden, most secret places of her young body. Untouched, her c******s throbbed with hungry desire.

She let one fingertip slip deliciously up into her receptive body, then slowly drew it out of the moist cleft, gliding it tortuously across the engorged morsel of flesh with a deliberate negligence which made her writhe. Shamelessly, she brought the sticky finger up to her lips and sucked it off lazily. The familiar, forbidden taste of her own p***y seemed to pool on the back of her tongue. The shockingly erotic flavor filled her wet mouth and tickled her nose.

She did it again, and again, tasting herself, feeling her glistening fingers slide purposefully against her tender c******s each time. Then she began using both hands, rubbing the slippery lubrication onto her n*****s and straining her neck to lick them off. It was difficult, and she knew it was dirty—but in the last few years, her body had developed enough to let her try such a wicked thing, and Katherine had come to enjoy it immensely. The sensation of her lips and teeth upon her n*****s was exquisite…and the feel of her own breasts in her mouth was almost more than she could bear.

She let her hungry mouth rove from one sweet mound to the other and back again, her tongue lashing fiercely, her even white teeth nipping, biting at the delightfully sensitive pink-brown buds no other mouth had ever tasted. Her full red lips sucked mercilessly at stiffened peaks slick with her own lubrication.

Eventually the taut flesh of her high breasts slipped from her lips as she could no longer keep herself from crying out in ecstasy. Katherine grasped breathlessly at the tingling pink-brown flesh of her n*****s with one hand as her other hand worked frenziedly at the hard nub of pleasures which pulsed in the furry pink nest of her agonized vulva.

She felt heavy inside, filled with a buttery sweetness. The sensations spread slowly, and she writhed in exquisite sensual torment, rapidly stroking the throbbing morsel of flesh that was the very core of her sensual being. Yes, this was what she had missed in those last few hurried days of traveling, the chance to make love to herself, to turn her body inside out and stroke the slippery pink until she screamed.

Katherine worked skillfully at the trembling bud of her womanhood. Her fingertips drew blissful circles through velvety folds, around and around, teasing, always prodding the sensitive little organ which made her gasp with pleasure. Now and then she scooped out a generous dollop of her ready lubrication and smeared it about the taut, sensitized little pearl. She whimpered as her hips instinctively bucked her wet p***y against her torturing hand. Her soul seemed to hang above a yawning abyss of indescribable pleasures.

Katherine was a long-practiced masturbator, utterly familiar with her young body and its every reaction to her erotic caresses. She would not let herself climax so easily. Though her healthy young flesh cried out for gratification, she knew it had to be this way. If only she could hold out…