The Classic Olivia M. Ravensworth Chapter 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.

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.


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