Chapter 1
I still remember the first time that Doug told me about his dream.
I lay totally exhausted at his feet. My body utterly battered, beaten and bruised. My hands were still tied underneath my back, my legs were widely spread as ordered as Doug began to speak in a quiet, hushed voice as his toes dove in and out of my spread cunt lips and occasionally he would curl his toes and pull on my pubic hairs as I wreathed at his feet.
"You know, Chrissy, if I could obtain about ten more like you I could start fulfilling my dream."
His toes curled around again and pulled some of my soaked hairs and as the delightful pain swept through me, I asked, "What dream, Master?"
"My dream for Chattel Castle."
"And what is Chattel Castle?"
"Well, right now it just a dream. I remember the first time I dreamed it. I was all of sixteen."
"I had just dropped off Maryann after a delightful date. Maryann was always one to experiment and that night she had asked me to spank her ass."
"At first I thought she was joking, but then she assured me that she wasn't. And to be honest the thought of hitting her gorgeous ass with my hand sent a thrill through me. So I did."
"I flipped her over my lap and brought my hand down to her waiting ass cheeks."
"And at that first contact ... well, it's hard to explain. But it changed me forever. I liked the feel of my hand sinking her ass cheeks. And as my hand and her ass heated up more and more with each stroke, as her cheeks turned from pink to red, as my cock filled to the point of aching, I knew that I would always want to inflict pain on women."
"Well, that night I spanked her ass over and over. She began to squirm and twist. She pleaded with me to stop."
"But I didn't. I hit her ass over and over. Again and again. Her tears dripped onto my legs and I got even more excited. My hand became a blur as it landed again and again. And then Maryann began to change."
"She still cried. She still twisted and turned on my lap as I held her in place. But she began to squirm in passion."
"I knew it and so did she. I hit her ass even harder and instead of trying to avoid the blows she began to raise her ass for the next one. And then it happened."
"She came. God, did she ever come over my lap. Her reddened cheeks clamped and unclamped. Her asshole twitched in passion and her cunt flooded my cock."
"A second later I dumped her off my lap, knelt behind her, grabbed her hips and jerked her to her knees. I jammed my cock presumptuously and it sunk up her ass with one swift stroke. And God, did we ever fuck."
"Neither of us could get enough. We slammed into each other like demented devils bent on destroying each other. I used both hands to beat her red ass as my cock fuck away inside it."
"Her gripping ass milked me with each blow I landed. She screamed, she begged, she cried for me to hit her again and again. And I did. Over and over until the ungovernable happened. We came and then came some more."
"It was like my cock was a never ending machine as I dumped load after load into her."
"Well, naturally, after a while we calmed down and then we began to talk about what had just happened. We both came to the same conclusion— pain was a very potent stimulant."
"Of course it was opposite for us, me giving and her receiving, but we were both hooked on it."
"And that night was the first time I dreamed of Chattel Castle."
"So what is Chattel Castle?"
"In my dreams it's an ancient castle atop a hill, perhaps in 16th century Europe."
"It's a fully defendable castle, complete with turrets, battlements, siege repelling equipment, archer slits in the towers, drawbridge, moat, bailee, keep and all other necessary means of defense. And of course there are the serfs, merchants, knights, squires, craftsmen and servants that live within the walls that depend on my protection."
"But there is no need to protect Chattel Castle because of what it offers."
"And what does it offer that makes it so important, Master?"
"It is a castle for sex. Any type of sex that you can think of. The entire staff, from scullery maid to the captain of guard, is there to fulfill your every wish concerning sex. And the specialty is painful sex."
"There are three levels of dungeons that willing victims can be taken to for punishment. Of course they don't think of it as punishment. No, to them, the willing victims, it is a reward to receive pain."
"If you want the illusion of struggling they will fight you as you tie them up, string them from chains. And as you whip them, or burn them, or bind them in yards of chains or rope, or whatever your wish is, they love it."
"Naturally most of the victims are ravishing beauties, but if you have a hankering for male flesh to defile, it too is available. Or if your taste tend toward Rubens, they are there too."
"There is room after room filled with every known method of torture. Racks, burning rods, whips, canes, crops, cages, every know instrument to inflict pain. Even the serfs and merchants that fill the open air market in the courtyards get into the act. Some giving pain, others receiving it."
"You can trade a jeweler your body for a trinket that you desire and he will tie you to the post that borders his stall and whip your body until he is satisfied with your payment in flesh."
"Or if you want to take the serving wench that brings your meal you can drape her over the table, paddle her ass then fuck it as the other dinners look on. Then when you are done she will calmly continue to serve the other guests. And for those who are into animals there is a vast collection of them available too: horses, snakes, dogs, cats, goats and so on."
"And of course I am the Lord of Chattel Castle and I collect the outlandish fees that people are willing to pay to have their fantasies come true."
"If some guy wants to whip a charming wench until she faints from the pain, I can arrange it. Do you have a fetching young thing that you want trained to fulfill your every wish, well just give her to me with instructions and I and my staff wilt train her in any manner you wish. For the correct fee, of course."
"And that, my dear slave, is what I dream of. Chattel Castle. Beautiful slaves that will submit to anything. And rich bastards that will pay through their balls to get it."
As he finished his words, he again dug his foot into my spread cunt. Shamelessly I screamed as the end of his foot entered me but I kept my legs well spread as the ball of his foot slammed into me over and over again. When he tired of teasing me he removed his foot and leaned back to relax. I laid there at his feet in my pain and thought of what he had just told me.
To say that just thinking about Chattel Castle made my passions soar would be putting it mildly. And the more I thought about it the more it turned me on until I could no longer keep it to myself.
I mastered control over my battered self and brought myself to my knees before him, as I lowered my head in supplication as I begged him, "Master. May I be the first slave to volunteer to serve at Chattel Castle?"
I dared not to raise my head as I heard him take a deep breath. I heard him change positions and a moment later his hand was caressing my free flowing hair. He tightened his hand in my hair, hutting my scalp, and brought my face up to look into his magnificent green eyes.
He smiled at me and my body turned red with passion for my Master. "Yes, you may. And I accept you as my very first slave to serve at Chattel Castle. But to make sure you can serve well in that complicacy, I personally will train you."
And train me he did. That night, even after he had beaten me earlier, he took me to the slave room and again I felt his love.
I hung in my chains as for the third time that day he whipped my slavish flesh.
That night was five years ago and now in my seventh year of life (for I count my life beginning when I became my Master's), Chattel Castle is a reality.
It took my Master over a year to find the right location for the castle and another three to have it built. And for the last six months we have staffed it as befitting his dream.
At this point in my narrative I will transgress a bit. My name was Christine Smythe until I married my Master Douglas Jefferson six years ago.
Perhaps you are not familiar with the name Smythe, but if you lived near my home state in New England you would have heard of the Smythe's. My forefathers came over in the ship that followed the Mayflower, but over the years they changed from their Puritan origins and became wealthy merchants, shipbuilders, sea captains, one was even a pirate and they prospered. God did they ever prosper.
If all the branches of the family ever got together it would be seen that we owned at least one third of all New England, not to mention holding in every state in the Union, plus all major foreign countries.
In other words—we're richer than Midas ever dreamed of being.
I am the only daughter of James Springfield Smythe, III. My two older brothers, James the IV and Matthew, now run the family businesses as rather is retired. To say that the men in my family are powerful, determined, masterful, enterprising, successful and dynamic is like say the sun is warm.
From the moment of birth they know what the future holds for them—whatever they want.
But the females of the family are totally different. From the moment of our birth we are taught that men are superior and we are on earth to serve them as they see fit for us to serve. To the world we are all very prominent women. We are dynamic forces that fit with our dynamic males. We are on every church board, charity committee, and worthwhile position in the state that we live.
We dress in the height of fashion, at times setting the fashions. We are all educated to our personal limits and desires, as long as we serve in a subservient position, never outshining our male counterparts. And if, as we grow up we rebel at our treatment we are quickly put back into our proper place.
From my earliest recollection, I have never been spared the rod of correction. Prior to the age of five my flesh was corrected with broad hands. From five to ten it was a belt. From ten to eighteen saw the introduction of whips, canes, crops and whatnot to keep me under control.
But to be fair, I must admit that by the age of thirteen I craved all the pain that was inflicted upon me and even went out of my way to insure that I obtained it regularly.
When I was fourteen my brother James informed me that he had arranged for me to marry Mr. Douglas Smythe Jefferson, a fourth cousin on my Father's side. James and Douglas had attended Harvard together and became even closer by that association and when Douglas made a comment once that he found me attractive James and Father conferred and I was given to Douglas.
Naturally at fourteen we didn't wed, but from that date I was trained to be Douglas' wife. And a very strict training it was. I more than eagerly complied with all his wishes.
Naturally I was to come a virgin to my husband but in all other respects I was to be trained as his total slave. And I was. Twice a year, on my birthday and Douglas', he was allowed to observe my training to assure himself that I was being treated as he desires. And for the six years between fourteen and twenty when we married, he did just that. Adding refinements here and there that he wished incorporated in my training.
When I was twenty we married and I moved to his home. At twenty-two I gave birth to his son. I At twenty-four his second son. And at twenty-six his daughter.
Currently I am twenty-seven and my Master is thirty-eight.
We are the host and hostess of Chattel Castle.
When Chattel Castle was nearing completion we set out to staff it as it deserved to be staffed—with the best. As Chattel Castle was no secret to our vast family, staffing was easily accomplished.
With our family's personal philosophy it was a simple matter to recruit. Every state and foreign country that we had dealings with was combed for candidates and they began arriving for interviews.
Denise and Nicole came from France, complements of Uncle Thomas. After checking their willingness to undergo the required pain they were assigned the task of correlating requests and reservations, along with occasional stints of being slaves for use.
Kim came from Illinois, complements of Cousin Richard. She had been his slave for a year and had bore his bastard son which she brought with her when she applied for the position of Nanny for all the residing children. Her one stipulation being that she required at least two beating a week and that she be offered as a victim for piercing (her personal favorite).
Jenny came from Connecticut. She is my first cousin and as such was raised the same as I. But at twenty she had no prospective husband and thought that Chattel Castle might provide one for her. Her main responsibility was to manage the kitchen help.
Kathy came from California, complements of Aunt Catherine who had a craving for female flesh. Kathy, a nimble black beauty, became the mistress of the female slaves at Chattel Castle where she could indulge her desire for female flesh as she swung back and forth from mistress to slave depending on her mood.
Elizabeth came from a New York orphanage that was controlled by Cousin Robert where he had know that she had been submitting to sexual degradation for over five years. Mr. Keene, who ran the orphanage, kept a lookout for Cousin Robert if a likely candidate came along and from the age of twelve she had been trained in the family tradition. Her main responsibility was the running of the open air marketplace in the courtyards of the castle.
And so on they arrived and were assigned their places. Second and third sons of the family were offered positions at the castle where they oversaw the daily running of their departments. In fact they ruled over the women that headed the departments in name only.
Then came the recruitment of the marketplace staff.
With our vast diversity we had ample contacts to choose from. Jewelers came from our New York offices. Produce from our far flung agricultural ventures. Livestock from our vast breeding farms. Seamstresses from our fashion concerns. Meats from our packaging companies. And applicants from around the world.
When they began to arrive it became obvious that some sort of coding was needed to separate the wheat from the shaft, so to speak and I came up with the "ribbon system" of identification.
As the castle began to fill it became noticeable that it was a problem of knowing who was into what. Was she a slave or a dominate? Did he want to worship your feet or slam his fist up your cunt? And that is where the ribbons came into play. Each color of ribbon that was worn by all in residence had a significance behind it.
Red was for total slaves. Pink for slaves in training. Yellow for observer. Black for master or mistress. Green was for staff members who provided a service but did not participate in any activities. Gold was for upper staff (like my Master) who could be called upon to clear up disputes or special requests. A rainbow ribbon was for those that switched around; one day wanting to be a slave, the next a dominate or observer.
And then there were the white stars that some of the women wore to signify that they were producing mother's milk (something that was ever in demand we were to learn).
And thus we opened the gates to guests. We were fully staffed and opened for business. A very profitable business. Rates were assigned and publicized for every activity that we offered. They ranged from $10/whip stroke to $1,000 to tit hang a female slave for fifteen minutes.
Our first month saw a profit of over $750,000 after expenses.