tagBDSMGolden Girl Ch. 05

Golden Girl Ch. 05


The Chateau de Charenton was a place unlike any Dorée had ever known. It was not simply the luxury of the setting nor the licentiousness of the inhabitants. It was not even the power she saw displayed on a daily basis by the Duc and his guests. It was the way in which everyone, even the servants, played shifting roles in an immense and complex game of erotic influence.

Newcomers like herself were considered the lowest of the low. They were technically available to be commanded, berated, and abused by anyone at any moment. The Duc had told Dorée as much, so she was prepared to have her dignity assaulted at every turn. And yet, she quickly found that in practice, tender new fledglings like herself were seen as precious commodities. Unscarred, unjaded, fresh and sensitive to new experiences, they were looked upon by the older, more powerful denizens of the Chateau as particularly desirable morsels. As a result, the more influential members of the household tended to keep the lower-ranked servants at bay and claim the newcomers for themselves. It was an intricate social world, one in which the tiniest gestures held immense significance and displays of power came in many forms. Dorée soon learned that she must pay close attention in order to guess who wanted her, what they wanted to teach her, and what they could tell her about her future in the Chateau.

The head chambermaid Berenice, for instance, took it upon herself to make Dorée into a good servant in very practical, down-to-earth ways. She demanded that Dorée help her with the rooms and scolded her for every misstep, no matter how slight. That said, she never slapped or pinched unless it was for a very grave fault, and she rarely had to correct Dorée twice for the same mistake. Despite her sharp tongue and cynical attitude, Berenice was the one who taught Dorée the most on a daily basis. She imparted the fundamental skills of being in service, and drew the new girl's attention to all the niceties of etiquette required to avoid offending the Chateau's higher-ranked staff and guests. Every day for the first several months of her service, Dorée followed the Liturgy of Berenice.

"Here now, don't hold the duster like that. Hold it like this, with a curved wrist."

"Fold these in thirds, not halves. It's more elegant."

"You curtsey like a lame goat! Try it again, this way."

"See how the sous-chef uses his spoon especially hard on that one busboy? That means he dotes on him."

"Stop! Never, ever enter any of the guest chambers without first scratching on the door-frame! You'll catch hell if there's anyone in there."

"Remember, kindness is the cruellest trap."

This last phrase was one Berenice often repeated, especially when Dorée tried to thank the more experienced girl for her help.

"I am not your nurse, nor your bosom companion!" Berenice huffed one day, when Dorée was being particularly effusive in her thanks. "I'm teaching you how to survive so that one day you might spare me in return. You'll rise faster and higher than I ever will, mark my words."

"How can you say that?" Dorée asked, baffled.

"I've heard things about you."

"What have you heard?"

"That you're to be trained by the Scarlet Lady."

Dorée did not have to ask who that was. There had been a magnificent woman all in scarlet and gold at the Feast of the Fall, the only one dressed so. She had won a wager on Dorée's weakness, and had seemed both archly amused and genuinely interested in the one lamp who showed signs of taking pleasure in pain. Dorée still recalled the cool touch of the woman's fingers as they slid inside her. She must be the Scarlet Lady. She was unforgettable, unmistakable. Thinking of her again, Dorée involuntarily breathed a soft "Oh!"

"That's all you can say, is it? 'Oh!'" Berenice laughed bitterly.

Dorée shook her head, dispelling memories of the Feast.

"No, I'm just wondering. This training, what is it? I cannot become a noble the way you've taught me to become a chambermaid. What would she tutor me in doing?"

Berenice gave Dorée a withering look.

"Have you still no idea what it is we do here, after so many months? You are a simpleton. A pretty, brainless village idiot."

"I'm not simple!" Dorée exclaimed defensively. "I just don't have any experience with such...worldly affairs."

"Of course not, petite innocente. They just love unspoiled girls like you. So pure and good, like a little nun!"

Berenice made a sweetly mocking moue with her lips and raised her hands palm-to-palm in a parody of prayer. Then, in a quieter voice, she added,

"Me, I never had any innocence to start with. I lost it long before I came here. But they like us ruined, too. So there's that. Still, in a way...I suppose I envy you."

Dorée gave pause. Her angry heart softened as she tried to imagine what must have happened in Berenice's past to make her so hardened.

"I'm sorry for whatever it is you've been through. If I ever do gain any influence here, I will remember you and treat you well, as you deserve. I promise it."

But Berenice only shook her head ruefully and said once again,

"Kindness is the cruellest trap, and promises are the bait it is laid with. We'll see what promises you keep after you've been with the Scarlet Lady. Now, shush and see to this hearth. The ashes need sweeping."

"Yes, Miss. Right away."


The conversation lingered in Dorée's mind for days. But there were no summons from the Scarlet Lady. Indeed, it seemed she wasn't even in residence at the Chateau, but had gone South for the winter. With no great noble around to lay claim to her, others began to circle and dart like sharks around a ship becalmed at sea.

One day as Dorée was taking one of the servant's back stairways, she encountered the Chamberlain, who had overseen the Feast of the Fall in his capacity as manager of the Chateau's household staff. Up close, she saw that he was quite young. Though his white-powdered wig, affected stoop, and impressive chains of office made him look much older, he was probably in his mid-twenties; a man full-grown, yet a man still in the full vigor of youth. She dropped a curtsey, bowed her head, and moved aside to let him pass. To her surprise, however, he stopped before her.

"So, it's the little lamp. The one they call the Golden Girl."

"Yes, Sir." Dorée curtseyed deeper.

The Chamberlain said nothing, but only continued to inspect her with interest. Dorée's thighs began to burn with the effort of holding the graceful, unnatural posture Berenice had insisted on.

"Your poise is coming along. Let's see about your obedience. Stand up."

Gratefully, Dorée stood.

"Remove your shawl."

Somewhat less gratefully, Dorée undid the knot on the shawl that covered her shoulders and upper breast. She took it off, folded it in thirds, and held it in one hand.

The Chamberlain reached out and pulled down her blouse to the top of her tight-laced stays. Her breasts were fully exposed and her nipples hardened in the cold air of the back stairway. He pushed her back against the wall, bent his head, and took her right nipple in his mouth. Despite her embarrassment -or perhaps because of it- Dorée flushed and squirmed.

"She likes it, the little putain," the Chamberlain murmured. He shifted to her left. This time he used his teeth. Dorée let out a low moan of protest, but her hips shifted tellingly.

"She likes it even more with teeth," the Chamberlain noted. "It's true what they say about you, then."

"What do they say about me, Sir?" Dorée asked, barely daring to breath the question.

"That you are a martyr to Desire, marked for the Scarlet Lady."

The Chamberlain's mouth found Dorée's throat at the gentle curve where it joined her right shoulder. He bit her there, hard. She gave a yelp, which he muffled with his hand over her mouth.


It occurred to Dorée that if she were marked for another, then the Chamberlain might be encroaching on the Lady's territory by using her thusly. Was he trying to keep her quiet to hide his transgression? Or was this encounter something he would boast of later, using it to bolster his position in the Chateau? She felt obscurely used, like a pawn in a larger game. But at the same time, she felt like a valuable pawn, not to be sacrificed lightly.

"Sir, I protest!" She ventured. "If I am marked by the Lady as you say, then you shouldn't do anything to me without her express permission."

"The Lady's not here, and you have no right to refuse me!" The Chamberlain said, too quickly. Then, in a more disingenuous tone, he added, "Here, weren't you punished in the oubliette for speaking back to your betters? I think you've lapsed and need to be reminded of your penance."

Dorée wanted to reply to this accusation, but she could see already that anything she said would be construed as 'talking back.' How could she refute his charge without confirming it at the same time? The Chamberlain could see by her expression the fix she was in. He smiled triumphantly.

"There now, that's better. Turn around, Golden Girl."

Her cheeks burned with indignation as she turned around.

"Raise your skirts."

She gathered up her simple, single-layered skirt in both hands. She had been given no proper underskirt, and only strange, loose linens that came down with the pull of a string. The Chamberlain pulled that string and took in the sight of her curving buttocks.

"Your maidenhead will remain intact for the nobility," the Chamberlain murmured as he drew his body up to hers. "I'll only take a morsel of your innocence."

He reached between her legs from behind and fingered Dorée's sex. To his satisfaction and her chagrin, his fingers came away slick with wetness.

"Taste what you are, little martyr," the Chamberlain said, pressing two fingers into her mouth. The taste was salty, but richer and thicker than the salt of tears. Dorée swallowed reflexively.

The Chamberlain lowered his wet fingers to his member and stroked himself. She could feel the motion of his hand pumping and the head of his cock striking her lightly on her buttocks. His other hand fondled her body while he prepared himself, exploring her belly and breasts with caresses that became pinches and twists. Even after his member was well-prepared and straining to its task he kept on teasing her, clearly enjoying her discomfort. But eventually his lust outweighed his amusement, and his hard cock, moistened with her own saliva, slid in between her thighs from behind.

Dorée stiffened in surprise, thinking that he must have broken his word and despoiled her. But as he thrust again, she felt him pushing past the tender hole where he might go into her. Instead, he slid along the length of her wetness, between her lips. Slowly, rhythmically, he pushed in and out, lingering on the very cusp of penetration, then sliding forward along her furrow until his cock-head pushed out between the front of her thighs, stroking her soft folds. It was the first time she had been used this way, and she felt at once confused and aroused. What infernal sort of carnal manipulation was this? It felt good, she had to admit it. Very good. But was it allowed? Would the Lady say she was ruined now? Berenice said they like girls ruined too, so maybe...

"Stay here!" The Chamberlain snapped suddenly, grabbing her throat from behind. "Don't go wandering off in thoughts and cares. Feel what is being done to you. You must feel everything. This is your first lesson."

His grip tightened and his thrusts sped up. Dorée forgot everything else. Her entire focus narrowed to her body. To breath, to heartbeat. The delicious strain in her neck. Her back arching. The hot pulse between her legs. Breath cutting off. Stars before her eyes, yearning to breathe, needing release, oh please release me...!

There was a hot spurt between her legs, and suddenly the pressure came off of Dorée's throat. Gasping for breath, she leaned her forehead against the wall. There was still a swift, urgent throbbing between her legs as her flesh demanded more. But the Chamberlain withdrew with a satisfied grunt, having finished with his pleasure. She almost felt she might sob to have him back, to sate the appetite he had aroused in her.

"What do you want now, Golden Girl?" The Chamberlain asked tauntingly.

Dorée swallowed her first answer, and gave the second instead.

"I want...to know when the Lady will see me."

The Chamberlain's voice was cold as he replied,

"She'll see you in her own time."


Word of what the Chamberlain had done to Dorée got out, most likely because he boasted of his conquest after all. What else would explain the shift in how she was treated? After their encounter, it seemed that the other servants noticed her more on her rounds and that they were becoming bolder in their conduct towards her than they had in all the previous months of her stay. Hands touched her from behind when she bent over, and feet lifted her skirts as she passed. The sous-chef used his spoon on her one day, slapping the backs of her thighs and buttocks until they were rosy pink for the crime of spilling a bowlful of soup she was bringing to a guest room. (It only happened because the busboy knocked against her arm -not that it did Dorée any good to point this out.)

Another day, she was made to wear horse's blinders because she stopped her work to stare at one of the other servants. It was the stunning dark-haired beauty, the same one Dorée had comforted as they were being washed for the Feast of the Fall. Dorée had no idea that the other girl had also been kept on at the Chateau. It gave her a thrill to see that sweet, familiar face again. As she watched her eyes grew even larger, for there joining the beautiful woman was the equally lovely ebony-haired man who had matched her in service. Both were clad as wait-staff, and they had slipped into an alcove together. Thinking themselves unseen, the pair joined hands briefly and gazed into one another's eyes before bringing their lips together in a passionate kiss. Dorée's heart soared to see a moment of pure, genuine affection shining through in this fortress of perversity. But at that moment, a hand grabbed her and spun her around. It was another waiter, who berated her soundly for loafing about in the dining room and getting in his way. He took her straight away to the stables and had her fitted with a kind of blinkered bridle. Not only did it narrow her field of vision, but it also advertised to everyone else that she was being corrected for not paying attention to her tasks -which of course was an open invitation for any and all to try to distract her.

Dorée began to feel she was surrounded and sinking. Daily she was assaulted from every side by a thousand tiny barbs. Each one was bearable on its own, but in concert, oh! How much longer could she bear it? After the day of the blinders, she went to bed in despair and did not sleep until the small hours of the morning.

It was then that the Scarlet Lady returned to the Chateau.

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