Discipline of the Private House by Esme Ombreux

the threshold, the door closed behind her, and she was alone with her many reflections.
    The Chatelaine felt her heart beating faster as she studied the form of the woman called Olena. Stefan and Itomi had brought to the Chateau an unexpected prize.
    The young woman was perfect. The Chatelaine, accustomed to scrutinising each newcomer, whether guest, servant, or slave, had rarely seen such potential, even in those seconded from other Private House establishments or selected for recruitment by her undercover operatives. And this one had arrived by accident - by mistake.
    She first studied Olena's body. It was a study in sensuality, blessed with generous curves. The Chatelaine went through her usual list, starting with the most basic features.
    Olena was of medium height. Her skin was light brown, and apparently flawless. Her build was slim: her waist, neck, shoulders and arms were slender. However, the exuberant bounty of her feminine contours was so pronounced that it was impossible to consider her thin. The inadequate covering of the lacy underwear she was wearing served only to draw attention to the abundant globes of her breasts. As she walked tentatively into the centre of the room her ample, round buttocks, reflected in the mirrors, rolled against each other. She was naturally graceful; her hips swayed with each step. Her thighs were plump, but between them at their tops there was an inviting gap, above which the lace-covered mound swelled.
    The Chatelaine found her mind wandering from the task of inspection. She couldn't help wondering how the girl would respond to the lash. Her buttocks could accommodate plenty of stripes, and would dance and darken prettily under a heavy strap. Her breasts, if they were as firm as they appeared, would be perfect for prolonged whipping. The insides of her thighs; those ample curves between her legs.
    The Chatelaine permitted herself a rueful smile. While she administered discipline even-handedly she had to admit that she had a preference for punishing young women. It was, she told herself, purely a matter of aesthetics and practicality: a woman's hairless, curvaceous body was a more attractive canvas on which to practice the art of chastisement; a woman could be whipped, and made to squirm prettily, and brought to a climax, and would soon be ready for more punishment and pleasure, while a man, once spent, provided little further entertainment.
    This young woman had a body that the Chatelaine vowed she would put to the most stringent tests. The Chatelaine unbuttoned the front of her dress, carefully so as to avoid rustling the heavy silk, and curved her long fingers against her sex. She was wet, as she had known she would be. Perhaps, she thought, I will allow myself to come, just this once, during an inspection.
    With her fingers moving gently between her labia she turned her attention to Olena's face. The girl's dark hair hung in lustrous waves whose final wayward curls reached almost to the small of her back. Her tresses had clearly never enjoyed the attentions of a fashionable coiffeur, and equally clearly did not require them. Her face, which the Chatelaine could merely glimpse between curtains of curls whenever the girl darted an inquisitive glance at her surroundings, was strong but pretty. Her cheekbones were high and broad, her byes large and dark, her nose straight, and her lips - her lips were wide and full, and looked like miniature plump cushions of scarlet velvet. The Chatelaine noted with fascination that she parted them from time to time to reveal even white teeth and a pointed pink tongue that would emerge nervously to moisten the Cupid's bow of the upper lip.
    It was obvious that the blatant sensuality of Olena's body was not reflected in her demeanour. She appeared wary and withdrawn; she kept her head bowed at first, and her arms across her breasts, although once she was sure she was alone she became more animated, examining the furniture and inspecting her many