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chair once she arrived. Somehow she doubted if a young innocent girl from England would ever manage to master the techniques necessary for such control, and if she didn't, then Cassandra was safe.
    The baron returned promptly at five that evening in high spirits. He had checked his estate, learnt that the breeding programme of his black swans was going well, and then had a long, indulgent lunch with his Austrian financial advisor. Now it was time for some fun.
    He went to his room, changed into beige flannels and a short-sleeved white shirt which he left open at the neck and then, using the backstairs, hurried to the punishment room. As he had anticipated, Peter was there with the redheaded maid. He was so busy suckling on her small red nipples extending through the holes in the wood that he failed to hear his master enter the room.
    'Leave her now,' said the baron curtly. Peter jumped, accidentally grazing one of the maid's already tender nipples and making her squeal. The baron turned his head and gave her a look of displeasure that effectively silenced her.
    'How has she been?' he asked casually.
    'She's done well,' conceded Peter. 'She's cried and carried on quite a lot, but she hasn't made any mistakes.'
    'Excellent! Leave us now, and send Cassandra to join me.'
    Monique, whose body had never before been the recipient of such prolonged and varied attentions, looked up at the baron appealingly. She knew that although she'd managed to obey all instructions so far it was now that she would finally pay the price for the broken Limoges jug. This man and his mistress were diabolical in the skilful way they could punish; in the end she would forget the pain and fear they engendered because there was always also a strange, dark, unspeakable pleasure that Monique could never imagine finding in any other household.
    She heard the door behind her open. 'Come in, my dear,' said the baron silkily. 'It's time for us to attend to Monique ourselves.'
    Cassandra, entering from the main doorway, saw Monique's shaking back and noted also the way in which she was staring up at the baron. It was no secret in the chateau that the small redheaded maid was obsessed by her employer, but at times like this Cassandra wondered what it was about him that could charm so many women, no matter what they endured at his hands.
    The baron sat on a low stool behind the chairback and carefully took the long protruding nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently so that they swelled even more and turned a darker shade of red.
    He could tell from their colour that Peter had been spending a lot of time on her breasts, but at this moment they were not swollen to their full size, and he gestured with his head for Cassandra to fetch all the equipment necessary to enable them to put the final touches to the maid's punishment.
    Monique was unable to see any of the items placed by the baron's feet; all she was aware of was the terrible fullness of her bladder and bowels, the tight aching of her thigh and calf muscles from their hours of immobility and the dreadful sexual tension that Peter had kept at a steady level the entire time, without once allowing her the relief of a climax.
    Now she no longer wanted one because she had too many other sensations to worry about and was afraid she would lose control of all her bodily functions if she became lost in one of the shattering climaxes the baron and his mistress could engender.
    The baron poured some body lotion into his hands and carefully worked it into the fastened maid's breasts, working around the undersides of the globes and then up round the sides before finally massaging it into the nipples themselves. He worked steadily and with intense concentration, until her nipples were more pliant than he could ever remember and she was moaning softly as her breasts swelled to fill the holes and the edges cut into her tender skin.
    Now the baron caught hold of the end of each nipple and pulled them towards him,