A Visit to the Seigneur Hotel

The Hotel Seigneur, located in a stately manor home, is a place stepped in tradition. Its amenities include a tiled ballroom, excellent dining room and wine cellar, and a formal garden bordered by hedges. Marketing is handled through word-of-mouth. Guests typically are couples and often are repeat visitors; no one below the age of 21 is allowed. All visitors are expected to understand before they set foot on the seven-acre property that here certain old ways reign.

In particular, at the Seigneur, male dominance is de rigueur. A man arriving with his wife or girlfriend can be assured of enjoying the upper hand over her while on the property. At this establishment, it is understood that while egalitarianism between the sexes may have a certain modern cachet, not all can be satisfied by such tepid arrangements, and not a few are those, male or female, who yearn for the hierarchy and discipline whereby a man gives the orders, and his woman obeys.

Naturally, the rooms are well-equipped with décor and devices suitable for the practical implementation of that principle. The Pillory Suite, for example, is known for the eponymous wooden frame whereby a woman's head, arms and legs may be securely fastened. Made of fine mahogany trimmed with leather, and adjustable into various positions, the Pillory enables a variety of punishments and pleasures. It may be where an impatient wife is kept waiting while her husband takes his time reading a newspaper; where a surly girlfriend receives the whack of a riding crop on her bare bottom; where a newly submissive female is kept on her knees to offer a blowjob; or where a romantic evening culminates with a captive lady being bent over and taken by her lord and master.

The management and staff of the Seigneur have no tolerance for any who would abuse such privileges. Couples receive a safeword with the Wi-Fi password, and any deviation from the consensual would be treated with the utmost seriousness. Men at the Seigneur are expected to wield power over their women with judiciousness and decorum; and it is emphasized to the women that they shall only be here if they want to be here under such terms. Such consideration has helped solidify a thoroughgoing loyalty among the clientele, and indeed a majority of bookings, both first-time and repeat, are initiated by females.

What brings a couple to the Seigneur? Sometimes it's a sense that a woman has gotten a little too sarcastic or dismissive in her interactions with her man. That is how Tamara and I came to this establishment. Aided by a glass of wine or two over lunch, Tamara and her close friend Sheila had an earnest conversation to the effect that men today simply take too much nonsense from their female partners, allowing misbehavior and insolence to fester. The gals fretted that guys today have internalized some feminist dogma that prevents them from engaging in needed pushback, and that their remaining masculinity is expended on tedious sports or home-improvement activities rather than setting a firm tone in the household when necessary.

Sheila told Tamara that she and her husband Greg had found a place dedicated to restoring that missing element of current-day relationships, and soon emailed her a glossy brochure. A few night later, after some hesitation, Tamara shared it with me. The brochure had appealing photos of the house and grounds, but the greatest lure was in the text, which contained excerpts from the Seigneur Handbook, a volume that's left at bedside at every room of the hotel, and which was written by its owner, Mr. Montebello, as a concise explanation of his guiding philosophy.

"Since the days of yore," read one passage, "countless women have had their bottoms warmed by their husbands when they displeased them. As recently as the middle of the last century, a man turning a woman over his knee was a cinematic and theatrical staple, in both drama and comedy; this cultural motif reinforced that male authority, properly exercised on a female posterior, has a salutary effect in domestic and romantic matters. We at the Seigneur embrace this tradition, and provision our rooms with hairbrushes and wooden spoons accordingly."

Once we'd reserved for an upcoming weekend, I immediately sensed a change in Tamara. A little less backtalk, a little more compliance. Not a dramatic difference from our normal give-and-take, but she seemed to be preparing herself for the change that would occur at the Seigneur.

When the appointed Friday evening arrived, we made the hour-long drive into the countryside; I was at the wheel, as one would expect, given where we were going. People might be surprised that a hotel with such old-world charm is located in the Pennsylvania woods, but so it is. Tamara sat in the passenger seat in a short red strapless dress. The high hemline was no accident, but rather to be sure of compliance upon arrival with the resort's dress code. As the brochure had stated:

"At the Seigneur, the man truly wears the pants in a relationship, both literally and figuratively. Women are required to wear appropriate clothing, defined as dresses and skirts with hemlines at least three inches above the knee. At the management's discretion, exceptions may be made for longer "hobble skirts" specifically designed to limit the wearer's range of motion. The foregoing rules naturally do not apply to events at which a woman is required to be visible on the premises in a partial or complete state of undress."

Saturday morning was relaxing. I tied Tamara spreadeagled to the four-poster bed, with a pillow beneath her butt and her pussy wide and exposed. She tugged at the silk scarves to test and confirm her helplessness. I took my time with my beautifully bound wife, as she moaned beneath my fingers and tongue.

The French Maid Party on Saturday night was an elegant pleasure, with all the women in those cute little outfits so evocative of subservience. Tamara and I danced while I gently placed my hand on her butt. I'd smacked it red in an over-the-knee session just a few hours before, so I was careful not to apply too much pressure now. Of course, my eye roved over many other legs and butts on display on the dancefloor, but that's a man's prerogative at the Seigneur. He looks where he wants, while his woman looks shyly at him.

Now, there are some limits to what a man can do at this resort, and making advances on another man's woman without his express permission is a definite no-no. In fact, this very infraction had occurred at a lawn bocci game earlier that day, and after the aggrieved gentleman brought it to the management's attention, the man who had transgressed was given the option of leaving immediately or accepting a suitable punishment. He chose the latter, and now here he was at the party, appropriately made-up and shaved and wearing a French maid outfit to match that of his wife. He had become, for this night, just one of the girls, and to deepen his embarrassment, was required to bring a tray of drinks to the man he'd offended, that man's wife, and his own wife, who for now had carte blanche to consort with the aggrieved party.

Yes, power can be fleeting, and I was reminded of that as Tamara and I left the Seigneur on Sunday afternoon. She wanted to drive, which I agreed to with a bit of reluctance, as I wasn't entirely eager to let go of the paramount position that I'd held in our relationship for almost 72 hours. She was wearing one of her short skirts, as that rule held until we had exited the premises. As she drove, I gave a few strokes to her stockinged thigh, and started to flip through the several brochures she'd picked up about sister properties of the Seigneur.

One of them read: "At the Chateau Switch, turnabout is fair play. Couples have ample opportunity to experience the ebb and flow of power, as they take turns holding the reins." Another brochure: "Here at Les Trois, experience the unique possibilities of dominance and submission in a threesome setting." I was starting to get engrossed, and Tamara had to point out that there was one more brochure: "Our newest property, La Femme Forte, celebrates the joys of female domination, offering ample opportunities to correct males who have errantly taken on a domineering demeanor. For couples where the man has gotten too big for his britches, La Femme Forte provides an environment in which he'll most certainly not 'wear the pants.'"

As I read this out loud to Tamara, my cock stiffened, giving some lift to the pile of brochures on my lap. We knew right then where we'd be taking our next vacation.