The Classic Olivia M. Ravensworth

Chapter One

When Katherine first caught a glimpse of Castle Rohmenstadt through the forest, she could not help gasping. Her sensual, innocent lips opened in surprise, and the expressive dark eyebrows above her striking green eyes climbed. Sunlight gleamed upon the flowing chestnut waves which cascaded about her shoulders. Her heart beat rapidly beneath her high young breasts as she wondered if this were all really happening.

The pretty twenty-year-old American had been to Europe only once before, three years earlier, when she had met her great-great uncle Ernst for the first and last time. He had visited Katherine and her parents at their hotel in Paris. Although she well remembered the haunting gaze of his piercing black eyes, the glamour and excitement of the City of Lights had held far more interest to the girl than any distant relative ever could. Afterward she and her parents had toured Europe, but they certainly had not been far enough east to visit the ancient family home which the mysterious old man’s will now left to her.

“Beautiful, is it not, miss?” said the driver—Karl was his name, she reminded herself—over his shoulder in richly accented tones. The young man was smooth-shaven and blond, handsome…ruggedly built beneath his quaint double-breasted chauffeur’s uniform with its rows of gleaming brass buttons. Pale blue eyes studied the road ahead—almost a little too intently, Katherine imagined. His nose was bold and hawkish, the jutting mass of his manly jaw firm. Yet she sensed no arrogance or condescension from this virile specimen. If anything, he was painfully polite.

“Yes,” breathed Katherine, returning her gaze to the window. “It’s incredible!” Constructed of dark stonework, the high fortress walls were pierced by narrow, arched windows and were crowned with battlements. Pointed towers stood at the corners of the castle, while steep roofs covered the great spaces inside.

“This castle has been in your family for generations, miss,” Karl added amiably. Distantly Katherine observed that his lips seemed almost slightly effeminate. Despite his other rugged features, those lips

were thin and expressive…strangely so. She tried not to notice as he continued, “Herr Ernst said that your ancestors built it as a refuge from the rest of the world. Empires have risen and fallen, wars raged across the rest of the continent, borders shifted—yet Castle Rohmenstadt has remained untouched.”

Katherine felt a thrill of pride at his words. Yes, this family treasure was something rare and precious, something to be proud of, to cherish. “Until a few years ago, I didn’t even know this place existed,” she said nervously. She bit her lower lip, pearly teeth indenting the full, rounded pink flesh.

“Herr Ernst always spoke most highly of you, miss.” Katherine felt another quivering sensation run through her body as she watched Karl’s strong, honest shoulders muscle the dark sedan over the winding forest road. “He knew that you should be the one to take possession of the castle.”

“I know Uncle Ernst must have wanted that, but…well, I don’t really know anything about running a castle,” she admitted.

“Oh, miss,” Karl chuckled, “this is hardly necessary—”

“Please,” she said softly. “Call me Katherine.”

“Why, thank you, miss— Katherine,” the big man replied. He glanced quickly at the mirror, then continued, “You see, we—the servants—do the actual managing of the castle. We care for the castle and the grounds—and, of course, for you yourself.”

Katherine felt herself blushing. She crossed her trim legs and began swinging the raised foot idly. Her sleek jean-clad thighs rubbed together, sending a sensation which was ever so faintly pleasurable tingling, half-unnoticed, to the pit of her hungry belly. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

“What is really necessary, miss—ah, Katherine,” he corrected himself swiftly, “is that a Rohmenstadt reside in her ancestral home.”

“Thank you, Karl,” she said, staring absently at the back of his muscular neck. “My parents’ lawyers have told me that’s all I have to do to collect the inheritance—just keep living here, but it’s still nice to hear you say so.” And it was, she realized suddenly. Here she was thousands of miles from home, dependent upon strangers she had never met. No parents to run to, no friends she could call up on the phone. She shivered briefly and not for the first time she almost wondered if the inheritance really was worth it all.

“We will do everything we can to help you…Katherine,” Karl reassured her, sneaking an uncertain look in the mirror. Dappled sunlight played across his handsome features as the car sped through the dense wood.

She let her half-lidded green eyes meet his deep blue ones and smiled. She shifted her hips purposefully in the wide seat, and felt her breathing come a little faster. “Thank you,” she murmured at length.

Though Katherine could not help being more than a little bit frightened, an undercurrent of excitement managed to keep her unease in check. Yes, she was alone and far from home, but this was an adventure she had never even dreamed of. A secluded European castle, servants…and freedom from her parents, freedom more complete than any of her friends would be enjoying.

Bare months earlier, she had simply been planning on returning for her third year of college. Though the summer had been a restful break from the hectic routine of class and studying, she had already begun to look forward to school again. She still did not know what subject she wanted to major in, but she loved the college atmosphere, heady with new freedoms and the excitement of learning. She would miss it.

Yet though her friends might be returning to state universities somewhere in the American Midwest, perhaps starting low-paying little jobs to make ends meet, here she was deep in the Old World! And if

she ever tired of it, she had but to return to America whenever she wished. Yet she was certain that that would be no time soon.

Katherine let her mind wander, trying to imagine what awaited her. Could the castle really be as beautiful as that first glimpse had made it seem? Was it comfortable and homey? Would there be things to do? Yet though she attempted to keep her mind on the adventure unfolding before her, her eyes somehow kept returning to the handsome young chauffeur.

The low buzzing beneath her taut belly made Katherine feel light and fluttery inside. Between soft lips where no man had ever touched, something stirred. Her hips ground purposefully, and in the warm moist darkness beneath her clothing, a tremulous bud stiffened under the secret caresses of her silken thighs. It felt good. Very good.

Katherine held her breath, trying to be quiet as she stared intently at the beautiful man in the seat ahead of her. She focused on the subtle pleasure slowly welling up through her trembling flesh. Her body stiffened, muscles tightening deep within. So natural, so quiet and serene was the bliss which swelled to fill her that Katherine—long accustomed to her body’s intimate responses though she was— would scarcely have considered it a climax. Yet if Karl had chanced to glance back in his mirror at that instant, he would have seen upon her pretty face the most striking expression of innocent, passionate rapture.

In a matter of minutes, as the sun began to sink into the deep green forest on the western horizon, they reached a grassy clearing on a long, slow rise. The tires of the big sedan crunched on a gravel path which ran past great gardens lying drowsy in the golden evening light, across an immaculate lawn, to the stout dark walls of her ancient ancestral home. Katherine stared, pulse pounding. Her home now.

Karl came around and opened her door. He tipped his leather-visored cap. His big hand was warm in hers as he helped her out, and as Katherine straightened, she could not help noticing with some

discomfort a dampness in the crotch of her panties. Karl slipped out of her grasp to remove her bags from the trunk. For a moment she watched him.

“Welcome home, miss!” a deep voice called. Katherine turned to the castle’s entrance. An enormous door—great squared-off posts of aged oak, bound with strips of studded iron—stood open on massive hinges. Within the arched stone doorway waited a heavily mustachioed man in an old-fashioned butler’s uniform. “Welcome to Castle Rohmenstadt,” he rumbled, bowing slightly.

“Thank you,” Katherine replied uncertainly.

“I am Vaclav, the butler,” the man said smiling. His great mustache covered his upper lip and obscured the corners of his mouth, but she was able to read the expression in his merrily wrinkled crow’s feet. He was perhaps fifty, she supposed, stout, the hair at his temples streaked with silver. His eyes were cool and gray. Her first thought was that he was very distinguished looking…almost attractive, despite his age. “You have already met Karl, our capable driver and handyman,” he continued. “If you step this way, miss, I shall introduce the rest of our staff.”

Katherine moved to follow Vaclav, but he stepped adroitly aside to let her proceed through the arched stone portal first. Though she tried to direct her attention to the people assembled there inside, she could not help staring in awe at the grandeur of the castle’s great interior. Here the dark stonework was hung with enormous tapestries, ancient scenes of bygone feudalism done in rich colors barely fazed by the passage of time. There in those tapestries peasants planted, harvested, danced joyously beneath the tranquil summer sun of a Europe long past.

Tremendous rough-hewn beams supported the ceiling far above, while polished hardwood lay beneath her feet. Scattered here and there were thick, tasseled rugs, upright suits of armor, and great vases of porcelain or brass. Solid-looking furniture with overstuffed brocaded cushions stood before a blazing fireplace big enough to roast an ox. The dark wood of those ancient couches and chairs was carved

ornately, apparently with human figures, but from where she stood, Katherine could not quite make out the details.

The servants—yes, servants, she reminded herself dizzily—waited silently until she was done. Finally, Vaclav cleared his throat indulgently.

“Miss, might I present the castle staff?” Eyes wide, she nodded, and he continued. “Your personal maids, Marie and Celeste.” He gestured to the first two in line, girls surely only Katherine’s age, or perhaps just a little older. Their porcelain faces were clear and smooth, unlined by cares and years… yet Katherine fancied somehow that a secret knowledge seemed to gleam in their big dark eyes. She could not explain the feeling.

They were identical twins, she realized with a start, pale-skinned and very beautiful. Each wore lustrous sable tresses held up with a silky red bow. Their lissome bodies were clad in old-fashioned maids’ attire, short black flouncy skirts and puffy-shouldered tops trimmed in lace. Velvety collars encircled their white throats…while a scooped neckline revealed surprisingly much of the creamy swellings of their pert young breasts.

Blushing at the thought that her great-great uncle had selected such costumes for these delectable morsels, Katherine murmured, “Nice to meet you.”

The chambermaids curtsied, and their deep dark eyes smiled behind thick lashes. “Thank you, mademoiselle,” they chorused with a delightful French accent.

“If you ever feel the need to tell them apart, miss,” Vaclav rumbled, “it is Celeste who has the small scar upon her cheek. A childhood tree-climbing accident.”

Now Katherine smiled, too. “Thank you…Vaclav.”

“Not at all, miss,” the butler replied dryly. “Next, may I present Inge, our excellent cook.” The tall woman was in her early forties, Katherine supposed. Straight shoulder-length golden hair framed a strong- jawed face. Her eyes were clear blue, her nose straight. A simple high-buttoned blouse covered her full bosom, while an ankle-length skirt flowed off her long hips. Though to Katherine the woman was middle-aged, she was still strikingly beautiful, even dignified. Any man would have found her attractive.

“Hello,” said Katherine.

“Miss,” replied the cook warmly, with a faint curtsy.

“And Gregor, our busy groundskeeper,” continued Vaclav, indicating the man last in line. He was probably in his mid-thirties, not very tall, but with purposeful-looking muscles beneath his plain dark jacket. He wore baggy pants and heavy scuffed boots. His short brown hair was unruly.

“Hello,” Katherine said.

“Miss,” the man nodded quietly. His eyes flicked up hesitantly, then went back to the floor almost embarrassedly. She found his quiet, boyish manner somehow intriguing.

“Karl has already seen to your baggage, miss,” Vaclav said. He inclined his massive head slightly toward one of the pair of broad, curving staircases. They led to a wide second-floor landing opening back on a hallway and, apparently, rooms. “What is the mistress’s pleasure? If you are hungry, Inge can prepare whatever you may desire. If at this time of the evening you still feel able to the task, you may have a tour of your castle. If fatigued, you may retire—”

“Perhaps I’d better,” Katherine said quickly. “I’ve had a long day.”

“Very well, miss.” Vaclav nodded judiciously, then set his gray eyes upon the chambermaids. “Marie will show you to your room.”

One of the girls stepped out of line, and Katherine walked over to her, a little uncertain. The girl smiled. “Your room is this way, mademoiselle, if you please.”

Katherine turned to the stairs, but at the bottom step she stopped suddenly. When she looked back, she saw that the rest of the staff still waited in respectful silence. Her eyes scanned their politely disinterested faces slowly, and she swallowed, feeling her throat tight.

“Thank you all,” Katherine said, uncomfortably sure that it came out awkward and formal. Nevertheless, she forced herself to follow through. “Good night.”

To her surprise, they all returned, “Good night, miss.” Her servants began to disperse, and she turned gratefully back to the stairs.

Katherine followed Marie’s trim, black-stockinged calves up the wide staircase, a familiar flutter in the pit of her belly. The chambermaid’s flouncy taffeta skirt rustled seductively about her shapely young thighs as she led Katherine silently down the hall to the new mistress’s bedroom. Finally, the girl halted before a deeply paneled wooden door.

“Your room, mademoiselle,” Marie smiled and murmured softly. Her accent was beautiful.

“Uh, thank you.” Katherine laid her hand on the burnished brass door handle, depressed the heavy lever, and pushed the great door open slowly.

The room was spacious and richly appointed, yet its atmosphere was nothing like that of the castle’s hard, formal entryway. Her chamber was soft and comfortable-looking, dominated by a large canopied bed. The servants apparently had redecorated after the death of her ancient relative, for the bed was done up in flowery feminine covers. Large tapestries hung between the tall mullioned windows, softening the hard stone of the exterior wall, while patterned red wallpaper covered the interior subdividing walls. Deep Oriental rugs were thrown about the hardwood flooring. Fragrant, crackling logs burned brightly in the fireplace.

“Behind that door, mademoiselle, is a bathroom.” Marie indicated a door in a newer wall, which was obviously lath and plaster rather than ancient stone. “Electric light switch here. Nightgowns and extra bedclothes in the closet. If you require my sister or me, simply ring this bell.” She smiled sweetly and pointed to a thick silken pull-cord which hung from a small hole in the ceiling. The knotted, tasseled end of the golden cord dangled near the head of the bed, within reach of even the most languid hand.

Though it made sense that struck Katherine as somehow — well, almost decadent. How strange to have a servant waiting upon your every whim, even as you lay in bed…

“Thank you, Marie,” Katherine said somewhat awkwardly. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But of course, mademoiselle,” Marie replied, almost mischievously. “Good night.” She stepped out into the corridor with a whoosh of her short skirts and pulled the heavy door closed behind her.

Katherine looked at her bags, which sat beside an elegant mirrored dresser. Karl must have brought them up into her bedroom, and for a moment she thought about that. After he set down the bags, had he left quickly, feeling like a trespasser in that most personal of rooms? Or had he lingered there in her boudoir, perhaps letting his eyes travel curiously about? Really, he seemed such a nice man.

Katherine tuned off the lights, and the room was suffused with the rosy glow of the flickering firelight. Despite the warmth, she shivered briefly.

She sat down gingerly on the edge of the great canopied, four-poster bed and looked slowly around, trying to accustom herself to her new surroundings. This was to be her very own room, but still it seemed new and foreign. She felt strangely out of place, as if at any moment the room’s rightful occupant might enter and find her there undressing. The thought was almost a little exciting.

But it was silly, she knew, for now she was mistress of the castle. This was where she belonged.

Again she looked around. Yes, finally she was alone. She took a deep breath.

Katherine let herself drop backward into the freshly made bed, and sank contentedly into its deep goose down mattress. She wriggled under the sheets. She felt that flutter again in her taut belly, a shiver of anticipation which made her heart beat more insistently as she pulled the quilted covers up about her chin and began working feverishly at the buttons of her blouse.

Sighing, Katherine shrugged her lacy white brassiere down out of the way and clutched eagerly at her soft young breasts. The girl moaned as her smooth palms found nipples which ached to be fondled. She caressed the tender pink-brown buds, gently at first, stroking them coyly into erectness. Yet soon she worked more roughly, pinching, twisting, pulling the tender flesh with practiced fingers, sending a powerful electric shock straight to her rapidly moistening crotch.

She was tremendously aroused, barely able to control herself as her hands roamed the eager body quivering beneath the covers. She had been vaguely unsatisfied for days, but simply had not had the chance to take care of herself as she winged swiftly across the slate gray Atlantic and railroaded from station to station ever eastward through the European countryside. She had tingled with unfulfilled erotic hunger.

The final straw had been the ride to the castle with Karl. Watching his broad shoulders mile after mile had been more than the frustrated girl could take, for it was all too easy for her to imagine the strong man’s body beneath his chauffeur’s jacket, imagine his hard-muscled nakedness glistening with fresh beads of sweat. If only he could have sensed her terrible thoughts, how might he have responded? Almost unbidden, her mind had conjured up the images—how he might lie back and stroke himself while she watched.

That idea was a familiar one in her fantasies, and it was not difficult to project Karl into the often- imagined scene. She would stare entranced, silent as he handled himself, and her eyes would coax him onward. He would do the things she craved to see, until his rigid, pulsing manhood finally spurted

its powerful jets freely across his straining body—and across her own slim fingers flying wickedly over sticky pink labia.

Yet she had been able to do no more than rub her thighs together in a pale imitation of the glories she truly craved. She bit her lips as she remember that covert attempt to pleasure herself, and she sank lower in the bed as she realized that finally she was free to give herself the familiar sensations her passionate nature demanded.

Though no man had ever possessed her virgin body, Katherine was only too well aware of how to satisfy the needs of her blossoming young womanhood. She had recognized her emergent sexuality long ago and learned over the years to explore and cherish herself, to pamper the innocent flesh whose shameless desires she fueled with the rich and varied imaginings of fantasy. How many times had she masturbated herself blissfully to sleep in the privacy of her darkened room, then awakened in the morning and, with fingertips still deliciously musky from her sweaty gasping of the night before, pleasured herself again before getting out of bed? Perhaps the better question was of how many times she had not.

Still plucking roughly at the stiff peaks of her tingling nipples, Katherine opened her jeans with clumsy haste one-handed—and then forced her ravishing hand to slow itself. She felt as if she could almost rape herself, so ferociously horny was she, yet she also knew the shameless pleasures of teasing oneself to a shrieking delirium. As much as she wanted to explode, she knew she had to wait. There were still many dirty little games she had to play with herself first.

Slowly, slowly, she allowed her right hand to slide silkily down toward the secret place where it longed to be. Polished red nails glided over a shivering abdomen, scratched tantalizingly through tight auburn curls whose faint sexual aroma her nose could now discern. The scent was warm, reassuringly familiar. The dense fur grew moist as she pushed lower, slipped her tapering white fingertips across the slick pink flesh that waited there, warm and open and ready. Shuddering, she pulled her head under the

comforting thickness of the covers and breathed in the intoxicating fragrance of her undeniable desire, a salty scent which filled the intimate darkness.

Her body responded instinctively as she touched herself, hips grinding to the sensual tempo of her practiced hand. Between the thick, parted lips of her vulva nestled another set of lips, sensitive flesh about whose tremulous folds she purposefully dragged her knowing fingertips. It was difficult not to pull those tender labia minora wide open. Katherine longed to fill herself, to slip one, then two, three, four slick digits right up into the open flower of her wanton womanhood while her thumb rubbed its aching little bud with glorious abandon.

Yet she would not. No, not yet. She groaned as she teased herself, delicately stroking pink petals slippery with her own wanton lubrication. Katherine finally gave her agonized nipples a rest and reached down her other hand to part her eager inner lips. She felt naked down there, exposed as the air cooled the hidden, most secret places of her young body. Untouched, her clitoris throbbed with hungry desire. Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

She let one fingertip slip deliciously up into her receptive body, then slowly drew it out of the moist cleft, gliding it tortuously across the engorged morsel of flesh with a deliberate negligence which made her writhe. Shamelessly, she brought the sticky finger up to her lips and sucked it off lazily. The familiar, forbidden taste of her own pussy seemed to pool on the back of her tongue. The shockingly erotic flavor filled her wet mouth and tickled her nose.

She did it again, and again, tasting herself, feeling her glistening fingers slide purposefully against her tender clitoris each time. Then she began using both hands, rubbing the slippery lubrication onto her nipples and straining her neck to lick them off. It was difficult, and she knew it was dirty—but in the last few years, her body had developed enough to let her try such a wicked thing, and Katherine had come to enjoy it immensely. The sensation of her lips and teeth upon her nipples was exquisite…and the feel of her own breasts in her mouth was almost more than she could bear.

She let her hungry mouth rove from one sweet mound to the other and back again, her tongue lashing fiercely, her even white teeth nipping, biting at the delightfully sensitive pink-brown buds no other mouth had ever tasted. Her full red lips sucked mercilessly at stiffened peaks slick with her own lubrication.

Eventually the taut flesh of her high breasts slipped from her lips as she could no longer keep herself from crying out in ecstasy. Katherine grasped breathlessly at the tingling pink-brown flesh of her nipples with one hand as her other hand worked frenziedly at the hard nub of pleasures which pulsed in the furry pink nest of her agonized vulva.

She felt heavy inside, filled with a buttery sweetness. The sensations spread slowly, and she writhed in exquisite sensual torment, rapidly stroking the throbbing morsel of flesh that was the very core of her sensual being. Yes, this was what she had missed in those last few hurried days of traveling, the chance to make love to herself, to turn her body inside out and stroke the slippery pink until she screamed.

Katherine worked skillfully at the trembling bud of her womanhood. Her fingertips drew blissful circles through velvety folds, around and around, teasing, always prodding the sensitive little organ which made her gasp with pleasure. Now and then she scooped out a generous dollop of her ready lubrication and smeared it about the taut, sensitized little pearl. She whimpered as her hips instinctively bucked her wet pussy against her torturing hand. Her soul seemed to hang above a yawning abyss of indescribable pleasures.

Katherine was a long-practiced masturbator, utterly familiar with her young body and its every reaction to her erotic caresses. She would not let herself climax so easily. Though her healthy young flesh cried out for gratification, she knew it had to be this way. If only she could hold out…

On and on her deft fingers race, sending her pleasures mounting higher. Closer she edged her heaving body toward orgasm, rubbing faster, then slowing, slowing…holding herself whimpering at the brink…

and withdrawing. Again and again she almost brought herself off, then teased, teased…and stopped on the verge of orgasm—to start again. The torture was exquisite.

Finally, delirious with pleasure, Katherine could take no more. Her nerves rang with the rising erotic tension. Redirecting the shuddering strokes of fingers shiny with her own slippery lubrication, she slowly, tenderly let her body achieve its natural desire. Lovingly, she stretched her spasming labia wide open with the penetrating, bunched fingers of her right hand. As she filled herself, the thumb strummed dizzyingly at her exposed clitoris, while her other hand grasped roughly at her stiff-nippled breasts.

The deep, rich waves of a sumptuous culmination rolled outward inexorably, smoldering through her belly and thighs, her deliciously aching nipples, her calves and feet, shoulders and arms, even through her open throat which cried out, whimpering with a joy so intense that it was almost unbearable.

The heady torrent of Katherine’s wild orgasm swept tumultuously through her body as she restlessly fingered herself until, blissfully exhausted, she finally dropped off into a deep, sound sleep.