1 comments/ 18202 views/ 5 favorites A Boating Incident at the Chateau By: KMDylan Arnaud's secretary had arranged for two limousines to pick us up at the Charles de Gaulle airport to take us to the town of Rambouillet, which was about an hour southwest of Paris. To get to the Goncourt family's chateau, one entered through an imposing gold-tipped black-iron gate that opened electronically. Once through the gate, we drove down a long tree-lined alleyway, through a large, beautifully kept, walled-in park. There were large groves of majestic old trees, lawns flanked with statues of Greek gods and goddesses, and a wide graveled driveway in front of the chateau. I felt like I had stepped into an episode of Downton Abbey because Daniel's brother Gilles, his wife Pauline, and their son Victor, were all waiting for us by the front door, as well as four household staff in uniform, who were formally lined up next to them. Though they barely knew me, they were so charming and we all kissed twice in the French style. Though he was a good thirty five years older than me, Gilles gave me that look that I get from most men (the straight ones anyway) when they meet me, where they seem to be thinking, if only I could put my hands on her. He exclaimed , "Mon Dieu, Katie! You are all grown up now, and a famous supermodel too! Incroyable! Come in, come in, we have a little snack prepared for you." They ushered us into the main living room (which they called le salon) for some coffee, croissants that were still warm and had just been brought over from the village's bakery (or boulangerie), and an assortment of cheeses and cold meats, while their butler and gardener brought our bags up to our rooms for us. I was a little awestruck by the richness of the furnishings and centuries-old architecture, with all sorts of paintings, stucco ornamentation and sculptures everywhere. Most rooms had double doors that were a cream color with gold trim and knobs, as well as glittering chandeliers and rich, carmine window dressings. Not only was the chateau magnificent and huge, but Victor was one of the most beautiful men I had ever known. This was a little more appropriate as he was only about eight years older than me. He had given me an interested but sardonic look when we greeted each other at the front door. I wonder if he's single, I thought, a naughty shiver going through me. The tea was refreshing after the long trip and our hosts were charming. Gilles announced, "The funeral service will be tomorrow morning at ten at the church in Rambouillet. We will have cars for the family so you do not need to worry about anything. Today you should just rest and recuperate. But if you want to go spend the day in Paris, we have a car and a driver you can use." The story was, by the way, that my mother had killed herself about a year, and now her boyfriend had died too (because of me), but he had left me a nice inheritance in equal amounts to that which his daughter Caroline and his son, Ryan, received. They weren't exactly my step-siblings, but almost. Caroline jumped at that option, and said, "I would love to do a lap of the Faubourg Saint-Honoré stores. It will take my mind off things." She turned to this French hunk whose spell we were both falling under, and a seductive smile appeared at the corner of her lips, "Victor, would you want to accompany me and be my tour guide?" Victor demurred, "I'm afraid I have a polo practice session this afternoon that I cannot miss. We have a big match coming up on Saturday against a world-class team from Argentina, and we have to sharpen our tactics." Then he teased her a little, "I wish I could—I can't think of anything more fun than going boutique-hopping with you." She punched him on the arm, saying, "Shut up, Victor, you would have the best time!" and he winced and laughed. That was the first time I had seen Caroline being cute and normal since the death of her father, Daniel. I got up from my chair and walked over to one of the walls where I noticed a very large Italian renaissance painting of the Greek goddess Venus tying a blindfold on Cupid, accompanied by two of her nymphs who held a bow and a quiver of arrows. It looked a lot like a Titian. Victor came over to join me in front of the majestic, stunning canvas, and stood just behind me and whispered into my neck, "Yes, it's a real Titian." I had put my hair up and his breath on the little hairs on the nape of my neck sent another little shiver through me. I gasped and my eyes probably looked like saucers. This magnificent yet erotic masterpiece was worth a fortune. "How does anyone own a Titian?" He nodded. "My grandfather bought it during the war. The one that is hanging in Rome in the Borghese Gallery is a good copy. The Italians were about to lose the war, the mayor of Rome was desperate for funds and had a fire sale. My grandfather paid for this with gold bars he kept in his Swiss bank in Geneva." I whispered, "I love it. I love Titian." "He's the master." "The fact that Venus is blindfolding Cupid is interesting." "Blindfolding is always interesting." "I agree." I turned and looked at him and he grinned at me wickedly. Victor's approach was smooth and powerful, just the way I liked my men. Arnaud approached us. Was he jealous? Could he tell Victor was putting a move on me? Arnaud touched my forearm with his fingers, perhaps trying to indicate to Victor that I was already taken, and said, "I will go do some work and then take a nap. Isn't that Titian incredible? You are now one of its owners." It was hard to fathom that and I whispered, "Oh, my God, really?" Arnaud gave me a look, almost as if he were warning me off Victor, but then he walked off and left the room, leaving me to my own devices. The others had started to get up, the gathering dispersing, when Victor touched my forearm with his hand and said, "Would you like to go for a walk on the grounds? I can give you a tour of the property. You've never been here before, have you?" "No, I haven't. I would love to, Victor." Caroline was walking out with Gilles and gave me a pissed look. Victor had blown her off, yet he was all over me. I wondered if they had ever been kissing cousins when they were growing up. I imagined yes. As we walked out of the living room, which was decorated with several large paintings, most of which had an erotic theme, another painting caught my eye. It was of a blindfolded girl outside in a garden, being teased by a young man who was tickling her cheek with a piece of hay. I pointed it out to Victor. "Who is that painter? I love that one too." "That is Fragonard. It was painted just before the French revolution. What do you like about it?" Hmm, I thought, he's checking me out. I nodded, "It's a beautiful fantasy of playing the game of love in a lush country bower. So French and hedonistic. You seem to have a theme going here with the blindfolds." He smiled and winked, "They're part of a long tradition in the game of love, here in France. What do you think they represent?" I gave him a naughty smile, "I guess trust. And allowing yourself to let go, to play the game and be surprised by someone else's choices and desires." He nodded, "That's a good answer. We French are more sensualists than romantics. The blindfold is a very sensual experience." I tapped my lips with my finger as I thought about that, and all of a sudden the twinkle in his eye became an intense stare. I smiled inwardly as I contemplate his wicked thoughts. I was having them too, and said, "So... You said something about the Chateau's grounds... Are you going to give me that tour?" Victor nodded, "I would love to take you around. Let's go." I pointed to my feet. "Should I put on more athletic shoes?" My travel outfit had consisted of black Chanel ballet flats and a silver Versace metallic mini dress. I had wanted to wear something pretty for this reunion with Daniel's brother and his family, although I probably looked like I was trying too hard. I would learn that the French aristocracy are all about being chic, but understated. "Your shoes are fine," he said. "We are just going on a stroll, we won't be jogging." A Boating Incident at the Chateau Victor got on his knees and he too looked around at the forest. In a low voice he said, "He's gone. It's fine, we're alone now." He then took hold of my hips, and easily flipped me over so that I was on my hands and knees. He was really strong as he had been able to pick me up as if I were nothing more than a doll. Was I about to become his fuck toy? Is this what I wanted? Yes. And no. I didn't want him to think I was just a cheap, easy lay. Suddenly I was confused as to whether this was what I wanted. Whether it was a good idea. "Victor, no!" I hissed. "Not here! It's too soon. I like you... I want you... But let's at least wait until we go inside and have some privacy!" He wasn't in the mood to listen to me. He was out of control, like a bull that had seen red. "Ryan's gone. I don't see anyone. I have to have you, Katie. We can't stop now!" I panted, shook my head no, but stayed on my hands and knees. My body betrayed me, not listening to my conscience that said this was not right. Besides, I might flip the boat if I struggled too vigorously. My barely covered ass was cambered up like a wanton hussy; like those porno pictures of girls kneeling, wearing stockings and high heels, waiting for a man to take them. He pushed my dress up around my waist, then, leaning forward, he slid his hands down my front to grab by breasts through my bra, twisting my nipples lightly, before sliding his hands back down my belly and into my sopping wet peach. At this point, my juices were literally beginning to run down my thighs. He growled, "You're one of the most beautiful girls I have ever met!" I rolled my eyes, and he grinned slyly. I had heard that line many times. "You make me crazy. I have never felt like this before for anyone, I swear!" "Come on, Victor, control yourself! We can't do this... Someone will come! Let's wait to do this later." He didn't even bother to try to remove my thong, but ripped it off with a fierce, savage gesture. "I'm sorry, Katie, but I can't wait," he grunted. I gasped, shocked by his out-of-control lust and impudence. I felt like a slave girl of ancient Rome being taken by a barbaric, Goth invader, helpless, overwhelmed by his brute force... and very, very wet. Suddenly I felt a slippery eel of a tongue licking its way between my ass cheeks and burrowing into the puckered pink rosette of my asshole. Ohhhh Emmmm Geeeee. Jesus! I couldn't believe he was so uninhibited! I whimpered, my insides clenching, churning with pleasure. I pushed my ass back into his face, overwhelmed. He pulled away and I looked back over my shoulder and saw he was pulling his pants down, his gorgeous, hard cock releasing from the confines of his underwear. It was beautifully formed, at least eight inches long and probably too thick to wrap my fingers around. Amazingly, he had a condom in his pocket. What a player, I thought. He clearly had planned to have me from the get go. He proceeded to unroll it onto his straining manhood. I let my fingers wander down to touch my clit as he did this, and frigged myself. Then he entered me. I was so wet he entered most of the way into my pussy on the first thrust. Bliss. Impaled on Victor's big, hard cock. Oh. My. He took hold of my hips and began to thrust into me, I suddenly looked up and gasped. Arnaud was standing at the edge of the basin, looking at us. Oh, my God! You're fucking kidding me, I thought. I tried to pull away; to stop fucking. But the boat was small and there was no way to stop, no place to hide. I was stuffed full of Victor's delicious cock, and my body began to convulse in a searing, ecstatic orgasm. I couldn't believe this was happening to me while I was completely on display on a sunny afternoon in the Chateau's garden. I dropped my head to hide my face from his view from below the edge of the boat, but this made my ass lift up into a better vantage point for Arnaud. Had Victor seen Arnaud standing there? Victor grunted, "I want to see you come for me, baby! You are such a bad girl, fucking me out in the open like this! I should spank you." And suddenly he spanked my ass and then I came again, this orgasm taking me into a promised land of unbearable pleasure. I nearly passed out, tossing my head around, my hair whipping about. I was not used to this kind of dirty talk. The situation on the boat was both dreamy and vulgar and it drove me to ecstatic incoherence. I allowed myself to scream, "Fucckkk me, Victor, I'm coming!" Not caring anymore, wanting to please Victor, to show Arnaud what a wanton, bad girl I had become. He spanked me again as I continued to come. I moaned incoherently, and the boat rocked like crazy; my pussy was clenching in its ecstatic pleasure and Victor shouted, "I'm coming!" and he thrust even harder as he shot his cum and suddenly the boat tipped and I was tumbling out, my legs flying in the air, and a moment later I was sinking under water and I felt an arm grab me around the waist and lift me up and put me on my feet. I spluttered and gasped for air and pushed my wet hair off of my face as Arnaud laughed, while Victor guffawed next to me. The water in the basin was only about four feet deep so we could stand. The boat was now listing in the water, upside down, and the cushions were floating around us. I looked at Victor, and quietly said, "Get me out, please." I had no idea how clean this dark, slightly brackish water was. It wasn't like a pool with a cleaning system, and for all I knew there were bugs and fish and snakes and I wanted out. And I was embarrassed. Arnaud was smiling and shaking his head. Victor understood my abrupt change in mood, and he picked me up in his arms the way you would a toddler and waded over to the side of the basin where he deposited me gently on its mossy stone edge. Thank God. Victor waded back out into the pond to retrieve the boat and the flotsam that had fallen out of it. Arnaud came over and said, "Well, it appears you and Victor will be getting along fine." I gamely smiled. "He has a certain charm. Kind of like you." He laughed and said, "Why don't I walk you back to the house so you can take a shower?" He was very low key, very French about the whole thing, as if what had happened was no different than if we had been playing a game of badminton on a summer afternoon.