The Chateau

by Budman

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2023 - Budman - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; F/f; cell; mast; tease; denial; bond; cuffs; oral; cons; X

Continues from

Author’s Note: As with most of my stories, you will get very lost if you don’t read this story from . I encourage you to go back and take the chapters in order if you aren’t already.

Chapter 2 – The Prisoner

Heather had been SO close, so fucking close. If Paula had given her one more minute with that penis vibrator! She spent several frantic moments after the lights went out, trying to rub her orgasm to completion. Being locked in the dungeon of her fantasies, in the dark, even having been slapped, was all making Heather very wet. But she had been telling me the truth on our first meeting. Without something filling her vagina and pressing against her G Spot, no amount of clitoral stimulation would get Heather off. Most women she knew were the opposite, they had no chance of getting off from just vaginal stimulation. Heather had spent her adult life trying to get off with just her fingers and never succeeded. She was SO fucking horny.

She had just given up when she heard the cellar door open, the one dim light came on and Tim and Cradic came down carrying a bunch of stuff. Tim unlocked the gate and put the toilet inside, “you just push this pedal to flush. It only has a gallon of water/deodorant so try not to do it too often.” Cradic explained. Tim put the bucket that I had bought on the floor, Heather noticed that it contained her toothbrush and paste and an unwrapped bar of soap. The handle had been cut off from the toothbrush, so you had to hold just the brush part. Cradic and Tim put the mattress cover on the old single mattress, really just a 2-inch-thick cot pad and put it on the floor inside the wine cellar. Then Tim closed the iron gate. Just before he snapped the lock shut, he asked, “Heather. Are you sure?”

“Yes Tim, I’m sure,” she replied and he clicked the lock shut.

“I’m going to miss fucking you!” Cradic said.

“There’s always blowjobs through the bars,” Heather answered with a wink.

“I think I better go try to screw Paula tonight, see if I can get her to fuck some of that anger out.”

“Is she angry with me? She slapped me pretty hard,” Heather said.

“She WHAT?” said Tim.

“It’s OK Tim, it was kinda hot,” she replied, smiling.

“Well,” Cradic said, “yea, she doesn’t understand why you’re doing this, why you didn’t stay upstairs at the meeting, and she thinks Heath is taking advantage of us.”

“Tell her I love her, and it’s going to be OK. And tell her I forgive her for the slap but not for taking my vibrator away!” Heather laughed.

It was about 10am the next morning when I pulled up at the chateau. I was delayed because I had found a shop where I could buy, among other things, some real police handcuffs. The roofer was already at the chateau unloading tools and supplies and the roll off dumpster was being delivered. The power company had been there earlier in the morning to turn on the power and, thankfully, there were no sparks or fires... yet,” I had no idea what type of reception I was about to receive, I was anxious. At least the bikes were all still on the porch, that was a good sign, wasn’t it?

“You’re still here!” I called out to Carl who was standing on the porch watching the roofers.

“Yes, and we have a surprise for you, or I guess I should say Heather has a surprise for you,” Carl replied as he turned and walked into the house.

I still wasn’t sure what decision had been made but I soon realized that Carl was leading me to the cellar steps. “Go on down and check it out!” he said.

I flipped on the light and as I approached the wine cellar, I saw her. Heather was lying on the mattress, nude, with her hands behind her head. I noticed the lock was already on the cell door. There was a paper plate next to Heather, I assume that had been her breakfast.

As I approached, the first thing out of her mouth was, “Do you have the key? I really need you to fuck me, right now!”

“OK,” I thought, “This is moving fast!”

“Well,” I replied smiling, “I figured out that you were a bondage slut the first time I met you, and I heard you when you said you can’t get yourself off without toys. But the sad news, Heather, is that your sexual needs don’t matter when you’re in there, and I like you frustrated. And it’s ‘I need you to fuck me SIR.’”

Heather gazed back at me, “I figured this was going to be a game, but a girl can hope. And I really do need to cum, Sir.”

“So, tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

And Heather proceeded to tell me how last night had unfolded, including her preempting any discussion on the matter of her imprisonment by simply going to the basement. She also told me about her interactions with Paula and concluded with “So that’s why I’m so wet! Please sir?” she asked pitifully.

Oh, I was tempted. Very tempted. But I had longer term plans, and I wanted to keep Heather frustrated. I also needed to see exactly what the group upstairs had decided.

“I’ll come back before I leave today and perhaps, if you stop thinking only about yourself, I’ll give you an opportunity to thank me for fulfilling what I’m betting has been a long fantasy of yours. For now, I’d still rather leave you frustrated.”

Upstairs, I guess the group assumed we would talk, because they had all gathered in a circle around the living room.

“Heather seems to have settled in, what have the rest of you decided?” I asked.

“I think everybody is cool with it except perhaps Paula.” Carl said.

“If this is what Heather wants then I’m not going to stop the deal, but again, I want to make it clear that if you,” and Paula was looking straight at me, “hurt her....” and she left the rest unsaid.

“I will promise all of you this,” I explained, “I will not physically harm Heather or any of you. You outnumber me seven to one anyway. But note that I did not say I wouldn’t hurt her. I think being horny most of the time will be painful, I’m sure sitting on that stone floor will get painful, and if she intentionally tries to break the rules, the group may have to decide to give her the choice of a punishment or the end of the deal.”

“What exactly does that mean!” Paula snapped.

“Let’s take an example,” I said, “let’s say Heather’s hair has become a rat’s nest, so Maggie decides to take a hairbrush downstairs, let herself in the wine cellar, and brush Heather’s hair. But after the hair brushing, while they are talking, Heather distracts Maggie and hides the hairbrush under her mattress hoping to use the handle to get herself off. How would you handle that? Because if she succeeds, and I see it on the camera or replay, you’re all out of here the next morning.”

“Well, I’d take it away from her and give her a good talking to,” Mal said.

“And you think that would stop her from trying something like that again,” Maggie laughed, “That girl is a nympho, she’s down there thinking about getting off and that’s all she’s thinking about.”

“And in her selfishness, she could have ruined things for all of you,” I added.

It was obvious the group was thinking that over. Good, I wanted them to start thinking of Heather, not as someone to be protected, but as a threat to their lifestyle. It would take weeks of manipulation, but I thought I could get there. As a part of that process, I needed to dehumanize Heather in their eyes.

“So, what?” Paula said sarcastically, “You think we should beat her with a belt!”

“No Paula,” I replied, “I would never advocate physical violence such as slapping someone.”

Tim and Cradic, who knew about the slap, both inhaled sharply and looked at Paula who turned red and shut up.

“No,” I continued as I fished the handcuffs I had purchased this morning out of my back pocket, “I was thinking of cuffing her hands behind her back for 24 hours.”

“That’s harsh,” said Mal, “How will she eat?”

“The bigger question,” I asked, “is how will she wipe?”

“Gross,” Reese exclaimed.

“It’s supposed to be a punishment Reese, and if you think about it, an appropriate punishment since with her hands behind her she can’t even finger herself,” I replied.

“Speaking of things, you need to be concerned with, Heather is eventually going to get tired of the wine cellar. Sooner or later, she’ll have a bad day. And of course, if she wants out, you need to let her out. But since having to move out of here would affect the entire group, I would think you want her to discuss it with the group and not just run out of the cellar when you aren’t paying attention.” I pointed out.

“Yea so what are you suggesting,” Carl asked.

“Well, professional jailers always put prisoners in handcuffs before they ever open the cell door. Basically, you order her to back up to the bars and put their hands behind them, then you cuff her hands behind her through the bars before you unlock the gate,” I explained.

Paula, for once, was not making sarcastic comments.

Mal asked, “But what if she refuses to follow orders?”

“She might,” I said, “but Heather is pretty cooperative. If she does rebel, then just leave. If you were delivering a meal, don’t leave it. If you were emptying her toilet, don’t. Just leave. She’ll quickly be reminded just how dependent she is on you all, and she’ll come around.”

“We don’t really have to open the gate to give her food,” Reese pointed out, “But I did go down to visit with her last night. I don’t want to chain her up for that?”

“But” I asked, “did you really need to unlock the gate? You can talk, even play cards and stuff through the bars.”

“I guess,” Reese said.

“Look Reese,” I pointed out, “If she suddenly pushed you aside and ran out the gate, it’s all over for the entire group in a second. How would you feel if you were responsible for that?”

“OK, I get it,” she said.

In just one meeting I was well on the way to getting them to view Heather as a potential threat that might take away their housing than thinking of her as a friend who was sacrificing for them. I decided to push it one step further. “I’d also recommend that you enforce just a small amount of discipline. Just to make sure Heather stays in the right mindset about her role.”

“Like what?” Ahhh, sarcastic Paula was back.

“Nothing huge. Let’s say you require her to address you as Sir or Ma’am. And she should always show gratitude for anything you do for her. When you deliver meals, she should say ‘Thank you for the food, Ma'am.’ If you take time out of your day to visit her, she should thank you as you leave. And she should NEVER talk back or refuse a reasonable request.”

“And if she fails to be polite or address you properly,” I continued, “then you can decide a corrective action. For example, I assume you’ll leave the light on down there during the day – but you could turn it off. Or you could handcuff her to a high point on the gate, so she has to stand with her hands above her for several hours. Nothing that would harm her but things that would correct her behavior and remind her not to question your authority. You guys think about it and implement some of these ideas if you want. I don’t want to be a complete bastard here but know that I WILL throw the whole group out if she steps out of that cellar.”

I thought I’d pushed it as far as I should today, and I needed to get the Wi-Fi cameras set up and tested so I left the handcuffs with Carl and left the group to their discussion.

The cameras were easier than I expected. The new router was on the floor above, but the signal was strong. One camera I wedged into a nook in the rockwork in the corner of the cellar where the arched roof just started. This camera caught the entire cellar except a few feet right below the camera. The second camera I taped to a stone pillar. It had a clear view of the entire front of the wine cellar, especially the gate. I ran a 25ft extension cord from each camera to one of the few outlets in the basement. I was able to wedge the cords in cracks in the stonework to keep them off the floor.

I opened my phone app and checked the pictures. I also turned the light off in the basement and was pleased that the InfraRed picture was actually better than the color picture when the light was on. The cameras had a motion detection feature. I didn’t care when Heather moved around inside the wine cellar, but I did want to know when someone approached the iron gate. I tested this feature on the second camera and played with sensitivity until I was happy with the response.

While I was mounting the cameras I had a conversation with Heather, who, I noted, was spending a lot of time staring at my crotch. “So, how are you settling in?” I asked.

“OK, I guess. The boredom is intense, worse than I expected,” she replied. When I stared at her for a minute she added, “Sir.”

“You aren’t ready to give up already are you, cause your friends were talking about that, they seemed worried,” I said.

“Oh, they shouldn’t worry about me, Sir, I’m fine, I wanted to experience this,” Heather said.

“Ah, I don’t think they were worried about you, they were more worried that you would mess up their good thing by, you know, escaping in a moment of weakness.”

Heather looked confused, then thoughtful, then said “I wouldn’t…” but she stopped mid-sentence.

I had succeeded in planting another doubt and driving another wedge in the group.

“Speaking of which,” I added, “Don’t you think it’s about time you thanked me for ‘this experience?”

As I stepped up to the iron gate and pulled down my zipper. Unleashed, my erection sprang out firm and throbbing. I’d been looking forward to this for days.

Heather smiled and dropped to her knees. “I think I can handle that," she said looking at my penis. “I think I can handle that SIR.” I reminded her.

She started slowly, holding it with just two fingers and running her tongue around the head and up and down the shaft. Then suddenly, without warning, she opened wide, took a deep breath, and shoved the whole six inches down her throat. I felt the resistance as the head went past her gag point and then I felt her chin against my balls. Feeling around with her hands, she found my hands and grabbing my wrists on each side she guided my hands to the back of her head, then let go and dropped her hands to her side. The message was obvious, she wanted me to take control, she wanted to be face fucked.

If it was possible, I got even harder. My balls felt like they were going to explode. I worked my fingers deep into her hair and held on tight, pulling her nose so hard into my body that it hurt. The feeling of her throat encasing my penis was amazing. It was much longer than I expected before she started to struggle, but once she started a full panic set in. Good. Only when I realized she was trying to pull her legs up under her to stand up did I let her breathe. But two good gulps of air and I started a rhythmic face fucking.

Shit this girl was good at this. She calmed down quickly and developed a rhythm of breathing in on one stroke then exhaling on the next stroke. And she kept her tongue on the shaft and only a few times lost it to gagging. I’m sad to say I didn’t last long. It was her bad luck that she had just exhaled when I decided I was cumming, held it down her throat and started unloading a huge wad. To her credit, she tried hard to take it, and perhaps if she had just taken a breath in when I stopped pumping, she might have held still. But before I finished enjoying my orgasm her brain panicked and she started fighting wildly. I’m not strong enough to control a woman in full survival mode and she fell backwards away from the gate onto the floor and took the last few spurts of my cum on her legs.

After several minutes of heavy breathing, I heard her say, as much to herself as to me, “That was SO hot and I’m still SO wet. Please Sir?” I swear, if her dildo shaped vibrator had been easily accessible (I assume it was somewhere upstairs) I might have succumbed to that plaintive request. Thankfully I was saved from temptation by the sound of someone coming down the stairs.

I was a bit surprised that it was Paula bringing Heather’s lunch down. It looked to be a simple ham and cheese sandwich. Just two pieces of bread, a slice of deli ham and a slice of local cheese. But the lunch wasn’t what surprised me, it was that Paula was also carrying the handcuffs. I expected the group to talk and think about my suggestions for a few days and then I expected Carl would have explained any rules to Heather. But here was Paula.

Paula looked at my limp, sloppy penis still hanging out of my pants. She looked at Heather, still laying on the floor with cum drooling out of her mouth and on her legs and I could swear I saw a flash of anger. Was Paula jealous? Or was she mad at Heather for giving in to me? So much for the group dynamics of no jealousy, no attachments, etc.

Heather, in her oxygen deprived state, probably wasn’t thinking as clearly as she should have been. She looked at the ham sandwich in Paula’s hand and blurted out “Not another ham sandwich.”

I actually watched Paula’s face turn red and several seconds passed, then Paula said calmly and with a tone that dripped with ice, “Fine, you don’t have to eat it.” And then she flung the sandwich back across the basement so hard that the bread, ham, and cheese flew in four directions. It was only then, when they jangled as Paula threw the sandwich, that Heather noticed the handcuffs dangling from Paula’s other hand. The sudden violence of the throw, the ice in Paula’s voice and the handcuffs caused Heather to suddenly sit up and scoot back away from the iron gate.

With wide eyes Heather quickly said, “I’m sorry Paula, I didn’t mean anything.”

I decided it was time to leave, quietly I zipped up my pants and retreated across the basement to the stairs, I could watch the rest of this on video. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I sure wasn’t going to interfere, my little social experiment seemed to be progressing much faster than I expected. Protective, controlling Paula had suddenly become angry, controlling Paula.

As I watched the encounter unfold later on video, I think her reaction surprised even Paula because she took a couple of deep breaths at this point and then continued on in a calmer manner.

Heather used her fingers to wipe my cum off her mouth and legs and then sucked her fingers, while she did so, Paula commented in a normal voice, “Well, it looks like you had lunch already anyway.”

Heather, thinking the storm was over, replied, almost bubbly, “Yea, that was fun, right up to the point that he almost choked me out. I saw stars. But I’m even more turned on now. Can I have my penis vibe please Paula. Just for a few minutes, please?”

Inside Paula was seething. What a self-centered bitch. Paula wanted that dick inside of her this afternoon, and now this little ungrateful cunt had just drained it. What’s more she was ungrateful about lunch. What did she expect since she wasn’t allowed utensils, Lobster tails with melted butter? But outwardly, Paula remained calm.

“That’s what I came down here to talk to you about,” Paula said firmly.

Heather’s heart jumped, was she actually going to get an orgasm?

“First, stand up and put your back up against the bars here beside the gate,” Paula instructed.

“Oh, OK, kinky” replied Heather as she moved into position.

“Now put your hands above your head. Straight up,” Paula explained.

When Heather complied, Paula reached up and locked the handcuffs on Heather’s wrists through the ornamental iron bars. She, and the others, would later learn to double lock the cuffs and to put the keyhole towards the elbows. I guess when Paula initially came downstairs, she had not planned on actually opening the gate because at this point, she just walked back upstairs without explanation. Heather assumed that she had gone to get her penis vibe and got even more turned on thinking about what was coming, or cumming.

Actually, Paula didn’t have the keys to the padlock on the iron gate.

When she walked into the kitchen, everyone was having lunch, a really nice beef stew and Paula was hungry, so she sat down to eat.

“So,” Carl asked tentatively, “Did you explain the new rules to her? How did she take it?”

“Not yet,” Paula explained, looking across the table right at me, “She needed to cool down first. But I am letting her experience the handcuffs at the moment.”

Carl and the others were obviously confused, but Paula was in one of ‘those moods’ so they didn’t press further.

After lunch Paula asked, “Why do we keep the padlock keys up here? Why don’t we keep them and the handcuff keys in the basement.”

“That was my rule,” I answered, “because I didn’t realize how inconvenient it would be. I guess it would be ok to keep them and the handcuff keys on a nail over by the steps, but nowhere near the wine cellar. If we keep them downstairs, I suggest you have a couple of firm rules:

  1. you NEVER take both keys off the nail at the same time. You lock Heather to the bars with the handcuffs, then go back and get the gate key to unlock the gate and leave the handcuff keys. When you lock the gate, then go back and get the handcuff keys. Both keys to her freedom are NEVER where she can reach them at the same time.
  2. If one of us uses the handcuffs as punishment, that person keeps the handcuff keys on them until they decide the punishment is over. Only they can unlock the handcuffs. Of course, if anyone in the group thinks that anyone else is being excessive, they can call a group meeting. In fact, anyone should be able to call a group meeting to discuss Heather at any time.

I’m not sure that anyone realized I had just changed the rules from “Anyone can unlock Heather at any time” to “The group has to decide.”

When Paula finally went back downstairs, she had eaten a good lunch and calmed down quite a bit. She hadn’t intended to leave Heather for that long but, what the hell she smiled to herself, the bitch wasn’t going anywhere. Her attitude was all business when she finally headed downstairs. But then, when she unlocked and entered the wine cellar, the smell hit her. She looked down and Heather was literally dripping down her thighs. For some reason, the anger flared again. “Heather, you really are a cunt. Did you actually think you were going to get an orgasm? The way you’ve been acting, how could you think you deserve an orgasm? Rejecting your lunch, constantly complaining, begging for sex. Ungrateful bitches don’t get to cum.”

Well, yes, Heather was expecting an orgasm. She had begun to worry and wonder when it took so long for Paula to come back. Couldn’t she find the vibrator? It was in Heather’s backpack. Were the batteries dead? Heather was sure she had spares. But now, Paula was inches from Heather’s face and the intensity of her speech had Heather in tears.

“I’m so sorry Paula, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful, I just get so horny I can’t think.”

“And that’s another thing, you need to show some respect for those of us who are working to take care of you! From now on you call me Ma'am, not Paula. You don’t get to use my name. And that goes for the others as well, Sir for the guys and Ma'am for the women. Yes Sir, No Sir, Yes Ma'am, No Ma'am. And you only speak when spoken to or asked a question, we’re getting tired of your begging.”

Paula was on a roll now. “We had a team meeting and we’re worried about you. You’re weak Heather. We can’t trust you to do what’s best for the group. So, from now on, before we open the iron gate you will be handcuffed like this. If you fail to cooperate, we will simply leave. That means no emptying of your toilet, no food, no company, no baths and, oh yea, no lights until you decide to be handcuffed.”

“So, it was true,” Heather thought, “they don’t trust me anymore. I really am a prisoner now.” And her pussy gushed again but all she said was “Yes Ma'am.”

“I think I’ll give you some time to think about what I’ve said,” Paula finished and walked off, leaving the gate open but Heather was still handcuffed standing with her back against the bars.

As Paula left, she called back “I still don’t hear gratitude.”

“Thank you, Ma'am,” Heather wisely replied, so Paula at least left the lights on.

When she got back upstairs, she simply said, “Well, that went well, I think. Oh, and I have the handcuff keys in my pocket.”

By mid-afternoon, Maggie, who had spent the afternoon writing a song on her guitar on the porch, realized that Paula was still working on a flower garden in front of the chateau. If Maggie had interpreted Paula’s comment about the handcuff keys right, and Paula hadn’t been back downstairs since lunch, did that mean Heather was in handcuffs? Maggie decided to go check on things.

In the basement, Maggie found Heather exactly where Paula had left her. She should have been shocked. She should have been mad. She was, or had been, Heather’s best friend in the group. But this slut before her was not the Heather she thought she knew. Maggie could see the dried cum on Heather’s face and the slickness on her thighs, almost down to her knees.

“Are you OK?” Maggie asked quietly.

“Yes Ma'am," Heather replied.

“Did Paula chain you up?” Maggie asked.

“Yes Ma'am.”

Maggie was getting a little concerned with her friend. “Can you talk to me?”

“Paula said I can only speak when spoken to,” Heather said in a flat tone.

“Well, I’m telling you to talk to me, what can I do?” Maggie asked her friend.

“Can you get my penis vibe from my pack and give me an orgasm?” Heather whined.

There was a full minute of silence, as I later watched this play out on the video playback. Heather and I watched as Maggie’s face slowly went from concerned friend, to confusion, to anger.

Heather didn’t know why but she immediately knew she had screwed up.

Maggie turned and walked out, locking the gate behind her.

At the top of the steps, she found Paula, listening at the open basement door.

“I went down there to comfort her and make sure she’s OK and all she wants to do is get off,” Maggie explained.

Paula said, in a ‘told you so’ tone of voice, “She has become a total slut, only focused on one thing. She would do anything for a simple orgasm, including screw the whole group. We don’t dare give her a chance to escape or get off or our free rent deal is off.”

Then Paula handed Maggie the handcuff keys, “Here, you decide when to let her down, you’re the last person she pissed off.”


Continues in

You can also leave your feedback & comments about this story on the Plaza Forum