The Café Chateau

[Guest]

Re: Re: Hunters?

A true hunter would call for something rich and full like a 94 Kenwood Jack London selection

Your more typical drunken bufoon who might stray across our walls, with his higher body fat and gaminess, would call for a rustic Rhone type, something to mitigate the greasiness

I think perhaps one of the rural Chianti's - something Sicilian perhaps????

 

[niteshade]

Niteshade arrives via a path in the woods, riding a bay mare.

After grooming and stabling my mount, I wander from the extensive stables up to the house, looking for the wing for those who fit in neither the Dom nor Sub category.
I am met at the door by a large, silent man who leads me to small room and leaves me there to settle in.

I close my eyes in concentration for a moment, and when I open them, the bed is a four-post, iron canopy, with black hangings and plum colored spread, with lots of pillows. The walls are adorned with paintings and posters that reflect my love of fantasy: faeries flit in glades and unicorns dance on moonbeams. Satisfied with my private space, I wander off to the library to find Cleo and Ekvitkar.

P.S...

Dear Diary....

I came to the Chateau today. I am eager to see what I might discover here. I will keep you posted.

 

[niteshade]

*pauses outside the door next to hers*

Oh, looks like I found Cleo's room. I always liked having friends close by. Wonder if she is game for a slumber party?

 

[Guest]

Friends

*Ekvitkar pauses in the reading of one of his favorite books. Looks up. Nostrils flare slightly and he sniffs the air. His lips pull back from teeth that now look a bit sharper than normal.

He lays his book aside and kills off the last of his scotch.

Friends - and something else too.*

 

[da grunt]

Was there something else

MoiraShe dropped her eyes again and said, "Was there something else Sir?"

"To have you here again is good, and I shall enjoy it, yet for now, I choose to watch you for a few moments. I want to ravish you now, but it is too soon. Pretend I'm not here."

And grunt sits in the armed chair, and watches ...

 

[JupitersGirl]

Diary...

The trepidation continues...how can it not? Do you know, Grunt, what you will be up against if the Senator decides he will not let me go? His reach is long his resources many and his imagination most terrible. A bit like you, Sir. For now, I will try to put my musings aside and attempt to do your bidding.

To the stables then! Maybe the physical labor will still the obsessive images that lurk on the blank screen that I try to erect in my mind. Ah....focus on what is at hand and not what has been and cannot be changed, or what is to be and remains unknown! Calm yourself, girl!

I know that you expect us to outline our desires in these diaries and I will as they present themselves. At present, my only desire is a haven, a peaceful bower in which to hide, in which to heal and complete my interrupted training...a place to call home.

Elena


Grunt is a good man, proud and strong. He runs the chateau with exacting attention to detail and his tentacles run to all corners of the grounds. To have him personally escort me on a tour of the grounds honors me. Ach....I must attend to my hair before his return....

 

[James G 5]

Re: Re: Re: Hunters?

I think perhaps one of the rural Chianti's - something Sicilian perhaps????

Girfalco makes a Cortonese Sangiovese (from Tuscany but outside the Chianti region) that MIGHT work, but human flesh is closest in quality to pork, and Rhones go better with pork most of the time

 

[Caitlynne]

"As you wish Sir"

Moira continued to the dresser and began to put her things away, doing exactly as Grunt had instructed, forgetting he was there.

She opened the drawer and was immediatley assaulted by the scent of Myrrh and the memories that scent produced. She took the coverlett off the top of the clothing she had left and straighted the drawer before she placed the pieces she had brought with her along side the ones she had left behind.

Lace, silk and satin fabric brushed over her hand as she straightened, folded and arranged the lingerie items. Her hand shivered at the feel of the fabric and a slight smile broke out on her face as she remembered.

Returning to the bed, she picked up more items and repeated the process. she opened each drawer full of memories, hung each item in the closet, and allowed herself to adjust, to remember, to be welcomed home by her own mind, her own memories, her own emotions, her own things.

She was glad she had taken the advice of Teacher and left her room the way she had. It had indeed been the welcoming arms she needed to make the adjustment less harsh.

Teacher was wise.

Moira then set about taking the bedding out of the cedar trunk that was at the end of her bed. She put the sheets on, tucked in the blanket, encased the pillows in her favorite embroidered pillow cases and finally put her favorite comforter on.. throwing the pillows on the bed was the final touch and the bed was made.

She stood and loked at it for a few minutes, oh, the sight of it almost opened up her heart, not quite, but almost.

She completed the room, setting up her vanity, her desk, and the bathroom, leaving only the alter for last. All the alter items were safe in the cabinet underneath; Moira stripped all her clothes off, closed her eyes to center herself, opened them and then approached the alter. Kneeling, she opened up the cabinet doors and carefully took each item out of it's hiding place, savoring each one as she touched, smelled and then kissed it before placing it in its place on the alter.

Continuing to kneel, she lit the candle and incense, closed her eyes and said her prayers.

 

[da grunt]

grunt studies Moira

... Continuing to kneel, she lit the candle and incense, closed her eyes and said her prayers. [/i]

Moira studiously ignored the grunt as she went about readying her room, the slight smiles and nuances of her expressions warming his heart. It was good to have her back.

Now, at her alter, grunt was glad she ignored him so well, as for her to see him shed tears would be counter-productive. He knew what some of her prayers addressed, guessed at some others, and wondered where he was wrong and what he was missing.

When the grunt thought Moira had finished her prayers, he commanded. "Come kneel before me, girl." And with feline grace Moira arose and crosses to him, always demure, and kneels before him, the classic kneeling position, foot tops against the ground, buttocks resting on foot bottoms, knees spread, crotch open and available, hands to forearms behind her back, shoulders back, breasts forward, face down, averting the gaze of the grunt.

Using the lightest of touch, the grunt pets Moria's hair, gently massaging her scalp, his thumbs circling her temples. He takes her face in his large paw and forces her eyes to his. He tries to pierce through her pupils to her very soul. There is much to read in her eyes, her need to devote, affection and trust of the grunt, and still the same sadness, now maybe even worse than a year before. "Yes, I'm glad you're back, but now you need to labor. hard labor before we restart your training. The mahogany floor of the exhibition room needs waxing and buffing. I will return with your training collar, shortly, then I'll put you to work. Until then, keep busy, and I expect a journal entry."

With a final stroke of her hair, the grunt stands and departs the room, not looking back, not latching the door as he leaves.

 

[da grunt]

The Tack Room

Just as the stable has a tackroom for all equestrian needs, the Chateau has a tackroom for all human needs. Collars, leather, chain, rope, and steel banded. The grunt needed two collars. For Moira he chose a simple leather collar, three inches wide, so wide to emphasize her stature and to enforce her demurity by bowing her head without bending her neck. For Elena he chose cold steel, chromium steel, shining with reflected light. He also grabbed two standard 36 inch chain dog leashes. While contemplating his choices, he reflected on the assortment of instruments in the tackroom. Crops, floggers, straps, belts, cats, soft and hard, whips, chains, nipple clamps, cock belts, cuffs, leg irons, coils of rope, manacles and special saddles for the ponygirls. There were also chests, chests containing personal tools belonging to various of the dominants.

With the collars and leashes in hand he returns to the girl's quarters ...

 

[da grunt]

Collars

The grunt walks to Moira's room first, and enters. Moira arises immediately and assumes a perfect standing position. Her hair is a bun, her beautiful neck exposed.

"This simple leather collar is yours. Its simplicity is to remind you that you are a simple girl. Remember the joy that came with being a young girl, unexperienced, uninitiated, untouched by dirty fingers and throbbing cocks? This collar is to remind you that you still are that simple little girl, and that joy you found at new things will be joy you find again. Simple, and easy to astound. Not a complicated 'lady' needing pearls and refinements and constant compliments. As a girl joys comes easily, as a 'lady' you are bound by too many complications. I want your little girl. You will train easier. 'Ladies' demand much more severe training to break their illusions and false super-egos."

Grunt goes behind Moira and sets the collar around her neck, fastens the dual set of buckles and locks the small lock.

"As before, I shall call you M. The use of your real name will be rare and will be used as a reward. Learn your lessons well, M! I have details to attend to now, I will return shortly to put you to work."

As he leaves he puts one of the leashes on a hook by the door, leaves, closing the door, but again leaving it unlatched.

He continues down the hall to Elena's room ...

 

[da grunt]

Elena's room

Originally posted by JupitersGirl ... I must attend to my hair before his return ...

The grunt enters Elena's room, to find her standing and ready. Her hair has been braided, pulled taunt into a tight thick single braid.

"Good! You've a lovely neck!" He goes to her and grabs the braid, pulling back her head, and he gently strokes his lips against her neck, her neck which is about to be concealed with the collar. HIs gentle lip strokes become light kisses, and then nibbles, grunt savoring the whole area to be collared, all the while controlling the tilt of her head by his grip on her braid. He desire was apparent, her breathing heavy, she was ready to give her fullest measure, and the grunt's cock throbbed in his leather trousers. Not yet, not yet, discipline, grunt, discipline

He applied the shiny steel collar, and locked the tiny lock. "I've picked out chrome for your collar because I want to accent the aubourn luster of your hair. Notice there are no fingerprints or blemishes on this collar. It is your duty to make sure it stays that way. I shall call you E. Should I use your real name it will be a rare reward. You must learn your lessons well, but before lessons you must work"

He clips the leash to the collar, but gives the handle to Elena to hold. "You are partially trained, I expect you to heel, unless I have other desires. Now we're going to the stable, heel."

Grunt slaps his left thigh and leaves. Elena takes to his left and follows, a step behind.

 

[Caitlynne]

As grunt leaves again, Moira takes her right hand and feels the leather around her neck. 'A posture collar', she thinks to herself, 'simple, sleek and bare', it suits her, she knows that.

She goes to her desk and takes out her journal......


10/30

Well, here I am at home once again.. The Chateau is unchanged, yet compeltely new and I'm reminded of my early days here. How excited I was to belong, how sad I was to find that I never really belonged to anyone or anything here.

The Chateau is the best of its kind, but even the best can tend towards herding us together; bluring the lines of uniqueness, of both Dominant and submissive.

I've thought of this a lot during the past month as I prepared to return. I wonder if the Dominants here at the Chateau find fulfillment here. Oh we are available to them and surely there is the immediate gratification that comes with the power to take what is desired... But I wonder, is it enough for them?

I wonder if my own service can reflect their uniquness, their individuality? I wonder if I can serve each Dominant as he needs, instead of just herding them all together in one group in my mind, as some do to the slaves. I wonder.

If the last year has taught me anything it is this.. that service is more than being physically available, more than a willingness to be used. It has purpose, at least it does for me..

I'm tired tonight, I'm tired and weak for all this thinking... But I know that is because I am not secure here yet, I don't feel the safety I need to feel.... But that will come quickly as I adjust to the routine and my duties..

Once I can feel the structure of the Chateau embrace me once again, then I know I will feel what I need to feel in order to begin anew. Time is always the answer and it brings all things into the light... At least it does for me.. it always has.

My body aches right now, it aches from the lack of sensation, I became used to the daily discipline, the daily physical and mental sensations... the morning, afternoon and evening rituals, all of it.

I will miss those routines.

I will miss being owned.

~more later~

~ M

Moira put the journal in plain view for inspection, she wasn't sure anyone would really appreciate it, she never had been able to put her own desires in her journal as requested. But she was honest about what she was thinking, completely honest!

Something in her, something that no one had ever been able to penetrate, stopped her from writing her own desires down. It was the inner place she held herself in.

She had been punished often enough for it, both here and at her former Master's, but still she could not do it. She could submit to almost any desire of a Dominant, but she could not voice her own desires. She knew it was the wall that she had to break down, that her true submission was in the surrender of that wall, but she had been unable to do it.. and she knew it was one of the sources of her unhappiness--and stilll she had been unable to do it.

Her stubborness and willfullness in this regard, were legendary at the Chateau, but her service was just as legendary; it was perfect.

Moira knew she was a study in contradictions, she was a contradiction even to herself.

 

[shysexkitten]

I sit in the room just thinking wondering what is to come when i hear a knock at the door. A man walks in and states that he is a trainer at the chateau. Anticipation builds in my body and i would be lyeing if i didnt say it excited me. He said that his name is was Master Mira but that i also may call him sir. He grabbed my chin as if he was trying to understand or see what was going through my head, trying to figure me out and then He asked my name and i was bearly able to slip it out " Shy " as i said in a faint nervous tone. The words i hear as he speaks to be but they are all just a big mess inside my head i just stand there and try to take everything in. He lays a collar and lead on the bed and tells me to put it on when i am ready to be trained. Then he just left. I sat on the bed pondering the orders. Asking myself if i am truely ready for this. I picked up the colar and lead in my hand and placed it around my neck. i decided that i would never discover my desires or learn anyting without taking a risk and experiencing. I then laid my head agains my pillow on the bed and tried to drift off to sleep.

 

[da grunt]

... tried to drift off to sleep.

As Kitten was trying to nap the grunt burst through the door.

"Stand," he commanded. "Can you not really tell the difference is sexes? Syr, Master Mira, is a domme. Do not be confused with her hood and robes, Syr is one of the best Trainers in the Chateau. When she returns you will refer to her as Syr, or Master Mira. She prefers the masculine and I honor her preference. Syr has collared you and will be available to all here. Now stand in the corner, and stay there until Syr comes back for you. Syr will be amused at your confusion. Do not move from the corner, and do not look around. You are being watched. You may express your thoughts and they will be listened to, but Syr will deal with you next."

 

[shysexkitten]

I think to myself as i stand in the coner as grunt has commanded (how stupid are you) (shes going to laugh at you becuase of your innocent stupidity) i stand there staring at the corner wanting to turn around wanting to scream out but knowing that i cant. I will have to learn to be more careful. I await Syr's arrival.

 

[Netzach]

A name on the rosters delights my eye. Moira? Really?

It occurs to me that the year has slipped by, slipped through my fingers. Moira, so introspective. A natural, if ever there was one.

A year is a year, then, in his mind. Somehow, I had thought that love might soften him, but the Word is a mighty thing. It compels you to do things you'd rather not, to have given it once. It's all we have, slaves and Masters alike.

If you ever think I should not be yours, speak the word and I will no longer be

I recalled saying that to her, myself, at the moment I'd loved her best of all.

I debate whether to pay Moira her visit now or give her the night to rest. Then, I overhear some scuffle of activity downstairs....

I make my way back down, the prosaic but nice little glass of red balanced in one hand.

When I arrive at shy's room I find the door unlatched. I make my way in silently.

I go in and find her face to the wall, her nose right up against it. Evidently she's already receiving some lessons.

"Shy, have you already displeased? I see your decision is made though. What is the nature of this infraction? At ease, turn around, look me in the eye and tell me what you did."

 

[JupitersGirl]

As I walk at Grunt's heel...my walk almost a trot in an effort to keep up with his long, swift strides...I take in the sights that I can see as we make our way to the stables. Much is familiar, the building, certainly...this stone corridor, lit by sconces, echoing with the sound of his boots as we make our way toward the stables. As we near the library, he stops briefly (I almost collide with him....that would certainly have earned me a red rear....but manage to stop my forward progress a fraction of an inch from making contact). He surveys the inhabitants of the library as if searching for a particular face, or perhaps he is searching not to find? At any rate, almost before I have resettled myself at a comfortable distance from him, he is off again...me hurrying in his wake.

I can still feel his lips upon my neck...enfolding me in a collar of sensation in preparation for the collar of training. Surprise and fear washes over me again as I realize the depth of my reaction to his touch...I wouldn't have though it possible to be so moved after all I had seen in the last two years. I reach up to touch the sleek chrome collar at my neck, but hesitate as I remember his charge to protect its finish. It feels good to have the familiar weight around my neck...welcoming, comforting.

As we reach the stables, he turns to me. I immediately drop my eyes and await instruction. "You are to muck out this wing of the stables." I am able to keep my eyes focussed on the floor...just. "When you are through here, you may return to your cell for some rest. I think you must be tired."

"Thank you Sir." Mumbling as I turn to grab gloves and tools, I wonder at the reason for this lowly task. The answer is provided me as I attack the hay...hopefully the exhaustion of my body will overcome the agitation of my mind. A passerby would have marveled at the force behind my movements....of course they would not have seen the same ghosts under my pitchfork as I.

 

[Guest]

Design

*He rises from his comfortable chair and meanders across the room to a series of rolltop desks. Plops into one of the chairs and makes himself comfortable.
It "feels" like it will be a bit before anyone shows up that he needs to give his undivided attention to. He smiles. It took him a long time to realize that the sniffing for scent was mainly just a body reflex.
But then he frowns. On the far horizon he 'feels' the potential for serious trouble. Not for him, but for someone here in the Chateau. Also he can 'feel' someone else extending themselves into the space, trying to locate the source of their unease.
A shrug, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. He turns his attention fully to the here and now, and opens the rolltop to reveal a very modern computer flat screen display.
He thinks for a moment, then enters his Nom De Plume as a password.
Those parts of the Chateau library and system that are available to members are now online. He tags the apropriate button and scrolls down to "Playspace". Clicks in.
Then scrolls to "Dungeon", then to "Dungeon Design". And begins to scan the available options. For the moment he is lost in the creative process part of his life.*

 

[shysexkitten]

naive

i turn around from the cornerand face the voice i hear questioning me. I voice is one that i have heard before it is my Syr, my trainer. I speak and say "I have been waiting for you Syr." "Grunt has placed me here because of the naive mistake i have made thinking that you were a dom instead of a domee. I was naive in that thought and must not have paid attention when you first visited me. I am sorry syr." "I was to stand here and await your instruction"

 

[da grunt]

The Stable

The stable is ornate, the sixteen horses the finest of their breeds, each breed a pair, and each pair a breeding pair. Thoroughbreeds, steepers, Arabians, and American Quarterhorses. The stable tackroom had saddles and bridles for all riding, and these quality horses are quality feed, with the finest medical attention, and a strictly controlled breeding schedule. Niteshade's horse had its own stall, as did her owner.

Grunt took the winding iron stairway to the upper level and found his chair, to watch E as she performed this humiliating task. Grunt watched as she found the glove and rubber boots and the tools she needed. She attached the effort with a vengence. She dared not look at the grunt upstairs, but she knew he was watching. She knew he had told her to return to her room when she was finished, but what would the grunt consider finished?

Grunt watched the naked girl work, wearing only rubber boots and gloves. He watched as she entered each stall and pushed the horse this way and that, in order to clean the stall. The mares were not the problem, the studs were. Elena's nakedness, her own sweaty, moist odors agitating the studs even more than usual, but Elena bravely faced each, and commanded each, even when Shadowfax reared at her. Grunt sat on pins and needles, waiting, in case Elena got into trouble, but Elena faced each stall and conquered each horse, leaving piles of horseshit in front of each stall. Now Elena was filthy, no from horseshit, but from the dust and dirt and her own sweat seeming to catch each piece of grit, leaving trails of sweat various places on her body. Pink trails on her dirty skin, between her breasts, down her back into her buttocks, underarms pink from constant sweat and lines of sweat trailing down her face. Her braid remained tight but the loose hairs on the front of her head were plastered with sweat.

Still she worked, raking the piles of shit into bigger piles of shit, and getting the wheelbarrow to gather and dump the shit.

Grunt knew how tired she must be, but she needed this. He needed this. To see her filthy on the outside relieved his inner turmoil that the Senator had made her filthy inside. He would see her outside cleaned, and he would see her inside cleaned, too.

She was finished she removed the gloves and boots, and as instructed, began to leave.

Grunt commanded, "Stop!"

Grunt stood and went down the stairs to stand in front of Elena. "Attention!" Elena's assumed the perfect standing position. "Hands above head!" Elena's maintained the standing position, but hands went from behind her back, to above the head, wrists crossed as if tied.

Grunt moved his face close to her skin, examining the dirty and sweaty pores, seeing the tiny particles of dirt on her peach fuzz.
He inhaled deeply of her underarms, and the sweat under her still wet neck. He placed his hands around her shoulders and moved down, barely touching her skin, outlining her breast, her hips, her ass, her thighs, the inside of her thighs, and then he lifted her, so that without bending he ran the tip of his tongue up, from below her navel, following the sweat path, around her navel, the precious flat tummy, innie bellybutton, a slight fold of skin across its top, making a beautiful minature cavern. Grunt could not stop himself from fucking her navel with his tongue, knowing his disciple mustn't falter, knowing he had purpose. His tongue followed up, between he dirty tits, but with her arms still above her head, the skin in the seam between breast and torso, was pristine pink, and glistened of sweat. Grunt tasted these lines, savoring the saltiness, enjoying the moans from Elena. Up his tongue went, around here neck at the bottom of the collar, smelling the aroma of the sweat trapped under the steel collar.
Grunt set the girl down, Elena still with hands held high and crossed, but eyes searching the grunt's face. Grunt stares, deeply searching her eyes. He again grabs her braid and pulls her face to his, deeply crushing his mouth to hers. He pulls back, and she see's his nostrils flair and his eyes turn, from green to golden, and he groals, sounds guttural and raw. "Nhhhgggg, not yet, you dang bad girl, not yet!" And he smacks her hard across her ass, with one stroke leaving a handprint and sound like a homerun. There was no followthrough with his blow, he stopped that blow before damage was done. She was not knocked from her feet. The blow was so shift and sudden Elena did not have time to even yell. Only upon her face lay the look of sudden shock. Of rememberence.

Grunt commanded, "Go clean yourself you filthy thing, you. I will inspect you later and if I find one piece of dirt I will not allow you into the jacuzzi tonight. No go, run. ...

 

[Guest]

Greetings

"He loved her the way that men love wine, and war, and all the things which are bad for them."

"Hello Grunt, how goes the world?"

*Grunt spins, and finds Ekvitkar leaning against the doorframe of the stabe entrance.*

" Yah know, one of our beateous ladies has something stalking her. You can feel it so strong, it must be irritating James and others to no end."

"But I suppose you already know the details?"

 

[SubChristy]

new arrival

as i come up on the Chateau, driving the long road in the dark and rainy evening. my hands are shaking, but my heart is gleeful as i know this is the start to my new life. i walk up to the door, knees quivering.....and knock

 

[da grunt]

Re: new arrival

....and knock

Grunt answers the knock. "Well good evening and what a pleasant surprise. From our previous conversations, I had hoped you'd come by. Are you sure you know what this means?"

 

[SubChristy]

bowing my head in respect i softly reply...yes sir, i am ready