Discipline of the Private House by Esme Ombreux Page A

reflections. The Chatelaine was gratified to see that, after a little while, Olena began to relax and to move more freely. She watched herself in the mirrors as she prowled around the small room; she stopped to pose, stretching her arms above her head, turning to look at herself over her shoulder. The Chatelaine pressed her fingers into her sex and stifled a moan of desire. It was all she could have wished for: Olena was enjoying the sight of her own body, and was even touching herself and grinning lasciviously at her reflection.
    There is a wanton heart, the Chatelaine thought, within that reserved and timid young woman. I will reach it, and educate her.
    Olena started, turned to the door, and covered her breasts with her arms. The door opened. The Chatelaine cursed silently; she could have enjoyed watching Olena on her own for hours. A young man stumbled into the room. The door closed behind him.
    'Barat!' Olena exclaimed. This, then, was the man whom Stefan and Itomi had recovered the previous night.
    'Olena,' Barat said. 'Are you well? Have you been treated kindly?'
    'Yes, Barat. I am quite all right.' Olena giggled suddenly. 'You look funny without your robe.'
    The Chatelaine was struck by the stilted formality of their speech. And why did Olena think Barat looked odd? He was, the Chatelaine judged, a perfectly normal specimen of manhood: tall, well-built and somewhat swarthy, with regular features and only a hint of fleshiness. He was wearing a pair of shorts, but nonetheless kept his hands protectively over his groin. Olena, too, continued to attempt the impossible task of concealing her breasts and her pubes, even though she wasn't naked. The Chatelaine began to form some ideas about the kind of background from which this unlikely pair had come. And they had arrived by accident at the Chateau, of all places. The Chatelaine stifled a snort of laughter. She was going to enjoy her latest visitors.
    Both Olena and Barat were trying to conceal the fact that they were stealing glances at each other's body.
    Barat at length moved his hands to his sides and stepped towards Olena. 'Don't be alarmed,' he said. 'Remember, I'm your guardian. I'm here to protect you. I'll keep you safe.'
    He placed his arm protectively about her shoulders. Olena, with her head lowered, did not see the predatory grin on his face. The Chatelaine noted it, however, and began to consider how best to bend to her own purposes the strange relationship between the two captives.
    Olena's voice was so low that the Chatelaine could hardly hear it. 'I shouldn't see you like this. Without our robes. We shouldn't be touching.' But she made no attempt to move away; instead, she turned slightly towards him so that her head was tucked into his neck and her arm and hip pressed against him.
    Barat closed his eyes and gasped. 'But it seems we have no choice, Olena,' he said. 'As long as our minds are pure and clear, our bodies can withstand a few indignities. At the moment your body is displayed brazenly and provocatively. Are you ashamed?'
    'Yes, Barat. Of course. Very ashamed.'
    'That's good.' He took her hand and placed it on the front of his shorts. She tried half-heartedly to pull away, but he held her tightly. 'Do you feel the hardness there?"
    'Yes, Barat. What is it?'
    'It is the result of your unchaste attire. It also shows you have been thinking unclean thoughts. It happens whenever you behave or think improperly. Until now I have always been able to conceal beneath my robe this evidence of your impropriety.'
    'Poor Barat. Does it hurt?'
    'A little,' Barat replied, and the Chatelaine found she could believe him. His shorts were tight fitting, and the bulge in them was alarmingly large. 'It would help if you would stroke it,' he said.
    'Will that reduce the swelling?' Olena asked. The Chatelaine was beginning to suspect that Olena was not quite as naive as she appeared.
    'It is very firm,' Olena said. 'I think it's getting bigger and harder than ever.'
    Barat