Chapter Six

When Katherine answered the soft knock on her bedroom door after lunch that afternoon and found Inge waiting there quietly, she blushed fiercely. Her first thought was that the cook somehow had seen her mistress spying through the keyhole that afternoon as she writhed, naked and sweating, beneath Vaclav’s straining body. But that was almost impossible, she realized.

And even if Inge had seen her, what would the servant say? Would she dare accuse Katherine after the things the cook had done? Katherine tried to reassure herself. No, Inge must have had some other reason for the unusual visit to her mistress.

“Please come in, Inge,” Katherine said finally. She let the woman in and closed the deeply paneled wooden door quietly behind her.

“Thank you, miss,” the cook replied. Her voice almost seemed to hold a note of embarrassment whose source Katherine could not imagine.

Katherine had been reading a magazine she had brought up from the castle library. She crossed hurriedly to the bed, closed up the too-colorful pages of the pictorial—rich with flesh tones, lace, velvet—and thrust the incriminating magazine beneath her pillow. Blushing again, she motioned Inge uncertainly to her bed. “Won’t you sit down?” she said.

“Thank you, miss,” Inge replied, sitting gingerly on the edge of her mistress’s great canopied bed. Katherine drew up the chair from her mirrored dresser and likewise sat.

“Would you like to talk?” As soon as she said them, the words seemed dreadfully commonplace, yet to her chagrin Katherine could think of nothing else. She could not imagine why the older woman ever would pay her such an unexpected call—and her guilty conscience still nagged about her shameless voyeurism.

“Thank you, miss,” Inge said quietly. “Yes, I suppose I must talk. You see, Marie thought I should come to see you—”

“Marie?” Katherine asked suddenly. “Why?”

“Well, you see, miss, it’s about something I never even thought to ask you.” The cook bit her lip and then continued. “You see, miss, I was Mr. Ernst’s cook since I was just a few years older than you, yes? And he always liked his food cooked in certain ways, and you see, one thing he always liked—and, miss, I never thought to ask you if you wanted it any different—”

“Wait, wait,” Katherine broke in, puzzled. “What is it?” It seemed so strange to be in a position of authority over someone old enough to be her mother that she did not like interrupting yet Katherine knew she must. She had to listen carefully to Inge’s sweetly Scandinavian-accented English, and surely would be more uncomfortable still if she could not figure out what the cook was trying to tell her.

The cook took a deep breath. “Well, miss,” she said softly, “Marie thought I ought to ask you about it. You see, miss, when Mr. Ernst was here, anytime a recipe called for milk…well, miss, I used my own.” Having finally blurted it out, the woman began to blush.

Katherine was so shocked that she could not think of what to say next.

“That was how the master liked it, miss, and so I’ve gotten into the habit of doing it that way. I’ve done it many years now, yes? Well, Marie just reminded me that I had better ask the mistress what she prefers.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked modestly down at them.

“I—I don’t understand, Inge,” Katherine said at length. “You don’t have children, do you?”

“Why, yes, miss, I do. They’re older than you now.” She smiled.

“Well”—Katherine found herself blushing again, but she was curious despite herself—”how can you…?”

“Oh.” Inge smiled shyly. “Well, miss, that was one thing Olaf—my husband, miss—really liked, if you know what I mean.” She looked down at her hands again. “When it was time for me to stop nursing the little ones, he wouldn’t hear of letting my milk dry up. You see, he had gotten used to that little treat for himself, too.”

Eyes wide, Katherine nodded for her to continue.

“You wouldn’t know about such matters, miss, but it is possible for me—for any mother, really—to keep on”—Inge had to think about it for a moment—”ah—lactating, in English—as long as she wants. Provided the breasts receive the proper stimulation… Well, miss,” she concluded quietly, “you see what I mean.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Katherine said dizzily.

“Once my Olaf was killed, miss, I needed a job, a good one. Eventually I came to work for Mr. Ernst, and I sent my children to live with my sister and her family—no other choice for a young widow. They’re all grown up now, one married and the other finishing college. Oh, I wrote the little darlings every single week, and my sister always read the letters and talked about me and helped them remember their mother. I went back to see them as often as I could, and I still visit them for a month or two every year.”

Inge stopped herself with a smile. “Anyway, miss, what I came to find out is what you wanted me to do.”

“Um, I really don’t know, Inge. I—”

Suddenly Inge looked down at her chest and frowned. “Oh, miss,” she sighed, “I am afraid I am leaking.”

“What?” Katherine exclaimed.

“Well, miss, the milk glands are very sensitive. When I was young, they used to leak when my babies cried.” She shrugged. “But now, even talking about it… You see, yes?”

Katherine looked to the damp spot forming on Inge’s blouse, right where she imagined a nipple might be. “Yes,” she breathed, “I see.”

“Please excuse me, miss,” Inge said apologetically, beginning to unbutton her blouse. “Usually I use a breast pump and then throw the milk away. Sometimes I use it in cooking. Sometimes…you must know, miss, the things a woman does when she is alone and her desires need to be satisfied…” Her cool blue eyes looked up slyly from behind blonde lashes.

“Yes,” Katherine said softly. She remembered watching the woman suck her own nipples. The sudden thought made her feel strange.

“Maybe I can soak some of this up, miss, and then I must get back to my room and pump out the rest.”

“All right,” Katherine breathed. She watched as the older woman worked one of her breasts out of the cup built into her stiff blouse. From what Inge had said, she should have been expecting it, but the sight still made her start. The woman’s shockingly naked breast gleamed so close.

The great mound looked soft and warm, its creamy skin almost inviting to the touch. Katherine tried to ignore the thought as her eyes took in the woman’s thick nipple, dark and crinkled. Children had nursed there, Katherine knew…just as Katherine herself had suckled at her own mother’s breast.

Inge pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and held it under her big nipple, while with her other hand she began to knead the soft white flesh of her bosom. Despite her age, her breasts were still firm and round. They were swollen with milk now, and Katherine half watched as the woman’s fingers and thumb commenced stroking. She scarcely knew what to do—she could not simply turn her back and ignore Inge, for it seemed that would be most rude. And yet she did not want to stare.

But Katherine found she could not look away. She watched in fascination as Inge’s digits dug familiarly into the yielding flesh of her breast.

Inge’s fingers started high up on her breast, working down toward the thick, dark nipple. Her areola puckered as she squeezed it, pulling the milk down. Creamy droplets formed on the sensitive skin, and soon her milk came out in streams. She milked herself carefully, emptying her lactiferous glands to ease the ache in her heavy breast, and Katherine watched as the warm milk spurted from the nipple and coursed into the thin handkerchief.

“Oh, miss, this handkerchief is almost soaked through!” Inge said in distress. She looked up slowly, then said, “About the cooking, miss, and what should I do”—she hesitated, then continued coyly—”if the mistress would care to sample it…” Katherine goggled as Inge carefully held out a cupped handful of warm mother’s milk.

Hardly believing herself, Katherine whispered, “Yes…” She bent forward and hesitantly put her lips to the wet skin of Inge’s hand. She slurped some of the warm milk into her mouth, finding it sweet, almost naughtily delicious. “Very good…”

“Yes,” Inge said quietly, pulling her hand back. “Mr. Ernst always thought it added something to the cooking.” She worked a moment longer, then bit her lips. “Miss, I believe my other breast is leaking now, too.” Tentatively she asked, “I wonder if the mistress might help me…”

“How?” Katherine asked softly. She tried not to let herself think anything.

“Well, miss”—Inge hesitated—”if you could help me express the milk…”

“Very well,” Katherine replied as steadily as she could. Gingerly she dug her hands into the cup of the older woman’s stiff blouse, feeling the warm flesh of the full breast jiggle as she grabbed for it. Katherine very strange doing this—yet really it was not at all unpleasant. Flushing, she worked the breast out. Some drops of milk splashed out before she could get the other handkerchief under it.

“Thank you, miss,” Inge said warmly.

Somewhat reluctantly, Katherine began squeezing the soft breast, and she watched, entranced, as milked started to flow into the handkerchief. Fingers and thumb working naturally, automatically, she fondled the full breast purposefully. Sweet mother’s milk spurted rhythmically from the stiff, puckered nipple, and Katherine watched it soak the thin silk in the palm of her hand, watched it wet her fingertips as she stroked Inge’s flesh with care…watched her milk-slicked fingertips dig tenderly into her yielding bosom.

The sight was somehow almost—arousing. Truly, Katherine hardly noticed it. She tried to concentrate on the task, tried to think of it only as a task. It was like milking any other animal, she told herself, just a natural chore. Yet her body stirred inside.

Soon the handkerchief was wet throughout. It was crazy, Katherine realized suddenly, trying to take care of the liquid like this. There was just too much, and it kept flowing. Katherine’s hands were wet, and warm. The handkerchiefs simply could hold no more, and Inge would never make it back to her room without getting drenched in milk.

After what seemed like an eternity, hardly believing her own senses, Katherine carefully set the dripping handkerchief on the edge of the four-poster bed…and lowered her face into the soft flesh of Inge’s full breast. She closed her eyes and wrapped her lips around a wrinkled nipple, feeling the engorged flesh fill her hungry mouth, tasting the sweet milk on her tongue. And then she sucked, lovingly, passionately, and her mouth filled with sweet warm milk which she sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed.

“Thank you, miss,” Inge whispered, barely audible. “That is beginning to feel much better.”

Slowly Katherine climbed into the older woman’s lap and curled up naturally on her side, eyes closed contentedly as she lay across the woman’s wide hips. Inge’s nipples were thick in her busy mouth, sensitive nubs spurting a reassuring sweetness. She grabbed her servant’s breasts with both hands, milking the soft mounds, sucking one and then the other, sucking the woman’s milk inside of her, letting it fill her throat. It tasted so good!

Inge cradled her, stroking her back, her shoulders, the soft nape of her neck. And then, almost shyly, Inge’s hands moved to cover Katherine’s breasts. Distantly Katherine felt the woman’s hands slip into her blouse, and into the cups of her brassiere. Those hands were warm on the bare skin of Katherine’s high young breasts, palms smooth on her crinkled pink-brown nipples.

Slowly Inge began to fondle her mistress. Katherine nursed unashamedly, eyes closed as Inge touched her and moaned softly into her ear. One of those hands slid down her chest and belly, massaging her hip, and Katherine found her thighs parting slowly. Only half-aware of it, she raised one knee. Her skirt fell back, leaving her naked there.

And as she sucked fiercely at those tender nipples, Inge’s hands slipped daintily along her mistress’s calves, her quivering thighs—right up to the fluttering lips of her slick vulva. Katherine sighed as she felt the older woman’s experienced fingertips slip between her open thighs. Inge touched her, softly at first, almost as if she were unsure of the girl’s reaction. This was something which Katherine scarcely could resist, and, indeed, her hips soon began moving of their own accord. The stroking grew more insistent.

Katherine gasped while Inge’s deft fingers masturbated her, for the older woman knew all too well how to really please another girl. Fingers slid up and down her quivering labia, tantalizing. Then the wanton Nordic beauty slowly spread those sodden lips and began prodding at the spasming bud of Katherine’s agonized clitoris. Soft fingertips rubbed purposefully, rhythmically against throbbing pink flesh, sending a tingle down the length of Katherine’s body. She felt safe and happy and weak.

The woman’s other hand reached around and tenderly stroked the back of her mistress’s neck, and Katherine wallowed deliriously in those warm mammaries, sucking down sweet mouthfuls of milk savagely, lovingly, while she squirmed gratefully against the relentlessly pleasuring fingertips.

Katherine cried out as she climaxed, biting her tender mounds, grasping with her hands. Ecstatic, she sucked hard at the woman’s yielding flesh, feeling warm and tender and yet also perversely powerful as she took Inge’s nipples into her mouth. Heady pleasures coursed through her, filling her with bliss. She panted breathlessly, reeling with ardor, until her dizzy orgasm finally receded, flowing slowly from her satiated belly, her shaking limbs, and her tingling lips.

At length Katherine looked uncertainly up into the cook’s smiling eyes. She rose shakily and smoothed down her skirt. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve as she watched the other woman silently scoop her heavy white breasts back into her bodice.

“Thank you, Inge,” Katherine whispered. “I see no reason to change the way you’re doing things now.” She watched as Inge buttoned up her blouse carefully.

“Thank you, miss.”

“You’re welcome, Inge.” Katherine slowly pulled open the heavy door which led from her bedroom to the hallway. “That will be all.”

***

Later that day, Katherine started suddenly. What was wrong with everyone? The thought hit her all at once. Was there no end to the perversion, the delightful bliss which seemed to wait almost at every turn? She herself was perhaps as much to blame as anyone, Katherine knew. It was wrong to want to—to do the things she had done, but she could hardly help herself. She was by nature a passionate and expressive creature, and she feared that the myriad temptations of the flesh were proving too much for her.

What was it about this castle? Was there something in the water, or the air? Nothing seemed plausible, but it was hard for Katherine to admit that the natural processes of human nature alone were responsible. Surely normal people did not behave this way. Was she going insane? Fleetingly, she wondered if she might be turning into a nymphomaniac. Ludicrous as it was, the thought scared her nevertheless.

Suddenly she had to find out more. What kind of man had her great-great uncle Ernst been to keep such a place as this? If even she, a woman, could scarcely trust herself around those delectable French chambermaids—what had happened when the old man was still alive? Katherine did not want to think about it…but her mind, unbidden, conjured up imaginings which made her face burn.

Had Inge and Vaclav always been that brazen, and had her uncle known about it? Had the man who gathered such a large collection of erotica watched his coupling servants, just as Katherine had? Or had he been so preoccupied with his scientific research—whatever it was—that he did not even notice such mundane matters?

Katherine needed to know. She had been about to take a walk in the gardens, but now she turned on her heel and headed toward Karl’s room. If anyone could explain things, surely the upright chauffeur could.

Yet by the time she reached the servants’ quarters, Katherine realized that she probably would not even be able to find the man except by accident. Since Karl was not only driver but general handyman, his duties took him all over the estate—and, very occasionally, even on trips to the nearest town, several hours’ drive away. Right now he could be almost anywhere. In fact, it seemed most improbable that he would be here, of all places, in the middle of the day. She would be more likely to find him in the garage, but he might just as easily be servicing the generator or repairing the roof high up in some remote corner of the castle. There was no way to tell, and she did not really want to ask Vaclav.

Katherine stopped, her hand raised to knock upon Karl’s door. Frowning, she turned away. And yet she almost thought she heard something, a low, rhythmic sound she could not quite identify.

She looked up and down the long hallway, but no one else was in sight. She listened again. The sounds seemed to be coming from Karl’s room. Hesitantly she stepped again toward the door. She stood quietly.

Yes, she realized, the driver’s room was the source of the sound. Quickly she looked around again. She knew she should knock now…yet she was too curious. Half-ashamed of her impulse, she knelt down to peer through the keyhole.

What Katherine saw made her hand fly reflexively to her mouth, barely covering her shocked gasp. Karl and Gregor, the groundskeeper, sprawled naked on the bed…entwined sensually.

But she had never thought that Karl—Katherine forced herself to look.

The men lay diagonally across the rumpled sheets of Karl’s bed, heads pointed in opposite directions. Yet they faced each other, Katherine saw—and suddenly she understood, for each man’s mouth was wrapped lovingly around the turgid penis of the other.

She gagged at the thought, but she could not move her eye from the keyhole. Some strange instinct made her watch. She peered as dark-haired Gregor engulfed Karl’s manhood, sliding his hungry mouth relentlessly up and down the big, veiny member. Agile lips sucked knowingly at the swollen head and sensitive loose skin beneath it while strong hands fondled taut testicles, muscled buttocks.

From what she could see of Karl’s head, he was doing the same for Gregor. The tendons in the back of the big man’s neck flexed as his head traveled up and down, taking the groundskeeper deep into his willing mouth. He moaned softly as he fellated the powerful little man, moaned as the other’s mouth slid tantalizingly over his eager flesh.

Entranced, Katherine let her hands slip up under her long skirt. She knew the sight should disgust her—yet she could not deny that she was somehow aroused. Though the act was unnatural and repulsive to her, seeing those naked men made her feel warm inside. Karl was so beautiful… Her fingertips stroked delicately across soft labia already full and slick and parted. Smooth white fingers found a tender pink nub which ached with desire. Fondling herself intimately, she watched the men make love.

Their powerful bodies glistened with sweat. Their rounded muscles rippled sensually. Katherine watched Gregor’s cheeks distend as Karl’s hips bucked his darkened shaft into the shorter man’s face, watched Gregor’s lips and tongue suck teasingly at the great cockhead as it withdrew for another thrust. She masturbated freely, staring intently at the men who writhed in ecstasy on the other side of the keyhole. Her fingertips traveled faster and faster through velvety folds which squelched sticky with lubrication.

It was too beautiful. Though Katherine had seen many delightfully shocking things in her late great-great uncle’s great collection of erotic magazines and films, she had never seen anything quite like this. She gently smeared a glistening dollop of the fluids of her arousal about the tender nubbin which seemed the very center of her being. Her flesh was as soft as theirs was hard. The pair was so virile, their bodies like sculpted works of art. She could not stop watching.

The men appeared to be approaching climax. Their quivering bodies strove urgently for one another, and Katherine stared longingly, stroking herself, trying to loosen the erotic pressure which pulsed demandingly within her young loins. She felt her own pleasure mount as she watched their sweating flesh merge so intimately. She watched palms cup sacs full of pounding semen, strong fingers scratch through wiry masculine pubic hair. She watched Gregor’s flushed, joyous face as Karl pumped insistently into it.

The thick shaft within Gregor’s mouth twitched strangely, and Katherine smiled wickedly as she managed to bring herself off, too. A liquid warmth began to seep outward from the spasming core of her womanhood. Her head felt light. She gasped while she fingered herself, peering through the keyhole.

The sight seemed to intensify her own pleasure. Though Gregor sucked and sucked at Karl’s pulsing flesh, a pearly trickle of the tall man’s ejaculate slipped from the corner of Gregor’s mouth as he cried out in his own orgasm. Katherine’s hips ground as she saw this, and it was all she could do to control herself while she watched his throat work at swallowing the salty mouthfuls of sticky cum.

Katherine fingered her trembling clitoris purposefully, stroking the pulsing pink bud on and on until the nectared waves of her joy slowly died away. When she was finished, she let her fingertips rest for a moment between the slick lips of her pussy. Her heart still hammered beneath her breasts.

Suddenly she heard footsteps—her chambermaids starting to come into the hall. Panting, she rose quickly and hurried away.

Subconsciously, Katherine seemed to be avoiding her chambermaids during the rest of that day. Whenever their paths happened to cross in the castle, the girls always smiled sweetly and curtsied most politely—but some subtle twist at the corners of their pretty lips made her feel a little uncomfortable. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that Marie and Celeste had seen her peering through the keyhole of Karl’s door, watching Karl and Gregor pump their thick, spurting seed into each other’s ready mouths.

Katherine found herself contemplating that scene as she undressed for bed. Flames crackled warmly in the fireplace, sending shadows flickering about the cozy chamber. Her wavy chestnut mane reddened beautifully by the firelight, Katherine slowly undid the buttons of her blouse, thinking.

Despite the strange intimacies which she and the shapely young women had already shared, it somehow disturbed Katherine that they might catch her peeking through a keyhole. Perhaps it was because it was something that was out in the open, no longer within the safe confines of her own room. She had let those knowing girls do things to her body which she had previously hardly imagined possible…and finally she had all but begged for their caresses. And so far they had pleasured her gladly. But always in secret, always subtly and only half-acknowledged.

Her attitudes toward the relationship she found herself developing with the girls were strongly mixed. She could not help feeling ashamed at the dirty things they had done together, and yet she could not help craving more. But she was decidedly uneasy about the way they had seen her this afternoon. It made her feel as if she had lost some measure of control. However, as the mistress of Castle Rohmenstadt, Katherine felt that she needed to maintain at least the pretext of authority, no matter how her passions might drive her secretly.

Katherine stood nude before her great canopied bed, smooth young skin awash with the rich glow of the hearth. For a moment she looked at the sumptuous, haunting tapestries which softened the cold stone exterior of the ancient castle. The colors were warm and sensuous in sunlit scenes of a Europe long past. Meticulous work done in rich shades celebrated the honest living of life: the workaday pleasures of sowing and reaping, husbanding animals and crops, building proudly and simply and with joy.

And beneath the calm scenes of feudal life lurked other, more interesting pictures which might be discerned only by the viewer with a particular temperament and a practiced eye. She saw naked maidens entwined in passion, pleasuring themselves and each other innocently, endlessly.

Shivering, Katherine slipped into bed—and began to masturbate.