The Lord's Niece

"Your tea, sir," the butler said, placing the tray at Lord Bernier's elbow.

The stern older man harumphed as he lifted his attention from the ledgers in front of him, inspecting the tea as if expecting to find something wrong with it. After several seconds of examination, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a delicate sip. "Very well," he said finally, when he found it had been prepared exactly to his liking, just like every day. "Dismissed."

The butler bowed and turned to leave the library, and Lord Bernier took another sip of his tea, then cleared his throat. "Oh, and send the girl up here."

The butler paused and turned to regard him. "Sir?"

"Sylvia. Send her in to speak with me."

"As you wish, sir." The butler bowed again and left.

Lord Bernier returned to his tea. He had finished roughly half the cup when the quiet sound of footsteps alerted him to Sylvia's presence. He turned to examine her with the same attitude he'd taken to the tea tray.

Sylvia was, in fact, his niece--his younger brother's eldest child--and had been sent to his household to act as governess to his own children when she'd reached the age of twenty, as she'd professed little interest in marriage. That had been five years ago, and she was well into the bloom of womanhood now, but she was still a delicate little slip of a thing, too pretty for her own good. Her chestnut-red hair was tied back in a sensible bun and she wore the practical dress of a governess, and yet she was still so decorative to look at that Lord Bernier wondered that his eldest son, now eighteen, didn't find her distracting.

"You sent for me, sir?" Sylvia said quietly. Her freckled cheeks were already stained with red, which made him suspect she knew why she was there.

"Yes. Please close the door," he instructed, and she did, then approached his desk. He grunted and frowned at her. "I've heard from the majordomo about your little...indiscretion the other day. I understand a maid found you hiding in the linen closet and touching your breasts in an ungodly way."

He wasn't personally acquainted with what sort of ungodly way a woman might touch her breasts--he never touched his wife's, being that they were intended for the feeding of children and he wasn't sure what other use they would have--but he trusted that a maid would know. Sylvia's blush immediately deepened to a dark crimson and she ducked her head with shame, confirming her guilt.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Is that all you have to say for yourself? I did not agree to add you to my household with the intent that you would cause a nuisance of yourself."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her face screwing up in anguish. "I just--it's just that--it's been five years, sir. In the belt, I mean."

Lord Bernier frowned at her, perplexed, and then realized what she meant. He'd procured a chastity belt for her to wear upon her arrival in his house, having been assured by the head matron of the maids that it was the easiest way to ensure a pretty young woman would not make a wanton spectacle of herself with the other staff. He'd given the matron a copy of the key and trusted her with the care and cleaning of such a device. "And? My understanding was that the belt would prevent you from acting ungodly, not encourage it!"

"It's..." her voice was shaking a little now, even quieter, like a mouse. "It's just so difficult, sir. Not being able to--to engage with myself--privately. For all of that time."

He harumphed. "Privately? For what purpose would you engage with your womanly bits in private? Those are meant for the marriage bed, and I understand you prefer not to marry, or have you changed your mind?"

"No, sir, but I still...my body still craves occasional...release." She stuttered her way through the explanation, her face brick-red with embarrassment now. He stared at her in incomprehension.

"Release?"

"C-climax, sir. Orgasm."

He scoffed loudly. "Women do not orgasm." He'd lain with his wife enough times to know.

"Yes we do, sir," his niece insisted. "Please, five years is such--such a long time."

He shook his head. "If this were the case, the matron would know about your...needs. She would have seen to them."

"She doesn't like me," Sylvia whispered. "I've tried asking her. I've begged. She calls me names."

"I don't care about your disputes with the other staff," Lord Bernier reminded her severely. "And I'll need evidence before I believe this outrageous claim. I've never heard of such a thing as a woman's climax."

"What sort of...evidence, sir?"

He considered this for a moment, frowning at her and stroking his grey beard.

"Remove your dress," he said finally. Her eyes widened.

"Sir?"

"Go on. All of your clothing, remove it." He didn't want to miss any information her body might provide him, if he was truly going to witness such a strange thing as a female orgasm. She still hesitated, staring at him, and he tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk. "What is it? Are you lying after all?"

"No!" she squeaked. "I just--I--you mean me to undress in front of you?"

"Yes. I'm your uncle, and your employer, so there's nothing improper about it," he assured her. "Hurry up now, I've got other things to be attending to after this."

Finally, she lifted her hands slowly to begin unbuttoning her dress. Fortunately, it was a plain governess's dress, not the many-layered sort of things his wife and daughters wore; even with Sylvia's embarrassed fumbling, it took her only a minute or so to remove it, exposing her underthings and the metal belt locked around her womanhood.

"Remove everything," he insisted. Sylvia was flushed all the way down her chest now, the color plunging between her pert little breasts, but she removed the rest of her clothing, until she was standing before him in nothing but the shining belt.

He eyed her and grunted. "You really are too pretty for your own good, girl. Come here."

She approached his desk in halting steps. He reached into a drawer and pulled out the original key for her belt; it was lucky that he kept it there in the library, with his other rarely-used keys. He grabbed her hip roughly and pulled her close enough to unlock the contraption, and then gestured for her to remove it, which she did slowly.

He frowned at the sight of her crotch. It was damp, as if recently-bathed, but he could tell from the scent coming from her that it was not. When her thighs shifted, he could see her clitoris--he recognized it from anatomical drawings, and had seen his own wife's a few times, but hers was typically small and difficult to find; Sylvia's was very prominent, swollen and pink.

"D-do you have to stare that way, sir?" Sylvia asked, her voice squeaking. He lifted his severe gaze to meet her eyes, frowning.

"Your body seems to be in quite a sorry state. Are you ill?"

"No!" she said, dropping a hand to cover herself and squirming in place so that her thighs rubbed together. "It's--it's because of what I said. Because it's been five years."

"I find that unlikely, girl," he reminded her. Then, curious, he said, "Show me what it was you were caught doing in the closet, with your breasts."

"S-sir," she tried to protest, and he narrowed his eyes. She bit her lip, then slowly lifted her other hand--the one not covering her damp crotch--to one of her breasts. She brushed her fingers slowly over the pink nipple. Immediately, goosebumps raised on her skin and her mouth dropped open a bit. To his amazement, the nipple reacted to the stimulation, pebbling up and standing out stiff.

Sylvia kept rubbing at it slowly with her fingers, and then pinched it lightly, letting out a shaking breath and shifting her weight again. He frowned.

"Enough. And you can experience an orgasm from this sort of fondling?"

"I...I don't know," she admitted, dropping her hand.

"So you've never actually had one, is that it? Is this a story someone told you?"

"No!" she protested. "I have--I've climaxed before! I just don't know if I can do it without touching...down there."

"Your genitals?" he asked, and she ducked her head in an embarrassed nod. "Very well. Show me."

"S-sir?"

"Stimulate yourself," he clarified. "I want to see evidence of your claim."

Sylvia hesitated for several seconds, then slowly began moving the hand that hid her crotch, pressing it tighter against herself. A shiver went through her whole body as she made contact, her mouth dropping open again.

Lord Bernier frowned. "I want to see what you're doing, girl."

"I..." she said faintly, then lifted her hand. "Yes, sir." She took a second to compose herself, then adjusted her stance to spread her thighs, exposing the swollen little bump of her clitoris. Then she reached down with just one finger, not her whole hand, and caressed the flushed organ. "Ohh..." she whimpered, then immediately bit her lip, as if trying to prevent herself from making any further noises.

"How long will it take?" Lord Bernier demanded.

"Just a minute, sir, if you just--just let me--" she shuddered and her hips jolted forward a bit in the air. "Oh--oh--that's it, right there--oh--" her voice was going high and thready, and he could see that she was getting even wetter, her slit dripping a viscous, clear fluid. He frowned.

"This looks quite unhealthy."

"No, it's good, it's--oh, I'm almost--" she gasped and hunched forward a bit, splaying her knees to display herself whorishly, her hips rocking forward as she rubbed her finger back and forth quicker and quicker over her clitoris. "Oh! Oh, sir, yes, yes, I'm going to--oh--thank you--!" she cried out, and then she toppled to the side, catching herself with an elbow against his desk as her whole body began to shake and tremble and she took great, gasping breaths that made her breasts heave. Her fingers kept the lips of her slit spread so that he could see how her clit twitched and jumped, and how her hole squeezed frenetically, dribbling fluid down onto her thigh. The girl's eyes rolled back, her mouth gaping open as she unleashed a number of truly troubling cries.

When the little fit finally ended, Sylvia was limp and trembling, barely holding herself up by her grip on the desk. She looked dazed, flushed and sweaty.

Lord Bernier tutted. "You call that an orgasm?"

"Yes. Yes, sir, that's...what it was," she whispered, some of the clarity coming back to her face in a rush of what looked like embarrassment.

"I think not. That was some sort of fit, perhaps a seizure." He eyed her critically, and then gestured to the belt. "Put that back on. We'll speak to a doctor about this, but I suppose if you aren't permitted to touch yourself down there further, it won't happen again."

"No," she gasped. "Sir, please, you can't! I'll...I'll need to touch again!"

"I very much doubt that." He gestured again. "Get dressed, girl, and get out of my office. I don't want to hear of you causing any further trouble."

Under his critical eye, his humiliated and troubled niece latched the belt back into place and then re-assembled her outfit, and then left the library, her head hanging low. He shook his own head and returned to his tea. He'd be damned if he allowed such a display of unhealthful behavior in his own home a second time. He could only hope she hadn't infected any of the other staff with her perversions; perhaps he'd have to speak to the matron about ordering belts for all of the maids, as expensive as it might be.