The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Whiskey Jack on 27-11-2009, 21:35:16</h2>
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				Title: <strong>The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Whiskey Jack</strong> on <strong>27-11-2009, 21:35:16</strong>
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				France – sometime late in the 17th Century, outside Lyon<br><br>The Marquise de Lyon, Lorraine is a well respected woman amongst the upper echelons of the French Nobility. Widowed years ago by the unfortunate death of her young husband, she was left the sole proprietor of his estate, since he had yet to produce an heir. Now, she lives alone in her Mansion outside of her lat husband’s land, seemingly bereft of suitors or the company of family. Still, the older woman is far from lonely as her home seems constantly abuzz with the activity of numerous servants and the visitations of the brown-nosing upper class. Hostess to countless salons and a pivotal figure in the society between Paris and Versailles, there are few women more qualified to teach a young woman the ways of the French aristocracy, few people better versed in the art of the social dance . . . few women with a firmer hand for discipline.<br><br>So it is the mother of one young Colette, a girl fresh from one of the finest finishing schools available to the French people, has arranged for her daughter to study under the Marquise, to follow in her footsteps and learn to navigate the perilous avenues of the king’s court at Versailles. As daughter to Lorraine’s old friend, she’s being welcomed with open arms, warm love, and graceful charity.<br><br>The Lyon Mansion, home to the Marquise and the site of the many events she hosts, sits in the middle of a vast estate several miles outside its attached city. The property encompasses many acres of land, from the expansive fields, the forest that rings it, and the small, whispering brook that runs through it. A lone road winds from town towards the mansion’s gates, arriving the iron structure wound with ivy and the emblem of a golden leaf fixed at the center of the barred door. Beyond it are the well groomed gardens of the Marquise, consisting of a small, private pond, hidden behind a maze of hedges. All of this leads up to the house itself, looming three stories above the ground, several rooms adorned with balconies that look out over the vast estate. The Mansions great doors stand tall and locked tight, ready to welcome their new guest to the place she will call home for some time to come . . .<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aragem</strong> on <strong>27-11-2009, 22:36:28</strong>
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				As the carriage wheels left bare country road and rolled across the smoothly cobbled stones of the path that led to Lyon Mansion, Colette Dantes glanced out the small window and gazed at the broad expanse of green meadows that went as far as her blue eyes could see.&nbsp; Everything that she saw, was owned by The Marquise de Lyon.&nbsp; <br><br>Goosebumps riddled her skin at the thought that such a powerful woman was going to be her guardian for the next several months as she underwent the severe training.&nbsp; Her mother had nearly crowed with delight when she finally received a response from The Marquise de Lyon after weeks of sending letters begging her to take Colette under her wing.&nbsp; Where her mother was delightful, Colette's spirits had fallen.<br><br>It wasn't that she feared leaving her home.&nbsp; Her home for most of her life had been the Finishing School of which she had graduated last spring.&nbsp; For the same reason, she would not miss her mother.&nbsp; She barely knew the moment and saw her only around Christmas and Easter.<br><br>No.<br><br>Colette slip a small booklet titled "Proper Manners for Proper Ladies" and carefully opened it.&nbsp; Sealed between the pages was a pressed flower.<br><br>"Blue, the color of your eyes."&nbsp; He had whispered to her when he pushed the flower into her hand.<br><br>She closed her eyes and in her mind's eye, she saw a tanned face with dark long hair tied back into a small ponytail.&nbsp; Dirty and wrinkled clothes and the smell of soil with a fragrance of flowers.&nbsp; Dion, the young man who worked the gardens . . .&nbsp; .<br><br>The carriage was sliding to a halt and she quickly pushed the flower back into the pages of the book and shut it tight.&nbsp; She bit her lip as she slipped the book back into her handbag and waited for the driver to open the door for her.&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aragem</strong> on <strong>28-11-2009, 09:11:07</strong>
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				NOTE: Written together by Aragem and Whiskey Jack<br><br><br>The distinctive sound of wheels slowly rolling to a stop finally reached the carriage's passengers, followed immediately by the sound boots on cobblestones signaling that the driver had hopped down from his perch atop the cabin and would soon be opening the door, and sure enough, a moment later light came streaming in through the now opened carriage, a gloved hand presented to Colette to aid her in the climb down <br><br>Colette accepted the offered hand and gave the driver a grateful smile as she descended the small steps he had set behind her.&nbsp; She smoothed her skirts down as her slippers rested on the cobbled stone.&nbsp; The driver bowed to her and proceded to go to the back and unload her luggage. <br><br>The carriage had stopped just before the gate that opened into the secluded gardens of the Marquise, revealing just a preview of the maze of well kept growth that separated them from the house. It would surely seem odd to present the obstacle of a maze between one's guests and their promised hospitality, but such had been the decision of the late Marquis, and his wife had dutifully maintained it. <br><br>Just inside the gate, however, stood a attractive young serving woman, dressed in the well maintained garments of a trusted attendant and maid with her wavy brown hair tied up tightly behind her head, and as the driver appeared with Colette's luggage, this maid moved to open the gates, welcoming them as she said, "Mademoiselle Colette . . . the Marquise is eagerly awaiting you inside . . ."<br><br>Colette nodded her head, "I am eager to meet her."&nbsp; <br><br>The maid bowed and guided her through a wide set of heavy oak doors with iron deadbolts on the inside.&nbsp; Colette glanced at them and for some queer reason, she felt as if she was entering the same dark cell in her favorite book, the Count of Monte Cristo, that held the main character captive for years.&nbsp; <br><br>The grand hall was large, bigger than any that the young Colette had ever seen.&nbsp; Everything was perfect and clean.&nbsp; The whiteness of the marble columns nearly made her eyes ache and the sharp smell of scented candles pinched her nose. <br><br>The maid continued walking, the crisp black of her dress and spotless white of the apron she wore over it making it obvious she wasn't the one responsible for the actual cleaning of the house, until she arrived at a door to the right of the room, just before the grand staircase that wound up to the second floor of the mansion and accompanying balcony that looked out over the room. <br><br>One hand's fingers wrapped themselves gently around the doorknob, giving it a slight twist until the latch holding the door shut gave way, allowing the old wood to swing inwards and open the way to a new room. Then, eyes closed, the woman bowed slightly, one arm gesturing Coletted invitingly into the room in which the Marquise awaited her.<br><br>The Marquise was not a young woman, as she was now firmly into her middle years, yet age showed only slightly on her still very beautiful and full face. Her skin was still quite smooth, and only the first few streaks of grey had begun to shoot through her long dark hair whose masses she kept done up in an artful plume behind her head, the few grey hairs seemingly arranged to artfully complement its black mass. She lounged in chaise, appearing well constructed even as she reclined in seeming relaxation. She still wore her morning dress, a dark and rich burgundy affair that held her very narrowly at the waist . . . it was impressive that she had the discipline for such garb when still at her leisure.<br><br>Colette's heart pounded hard beneath her breast and her mouth felt dry.&nbsp; Seeing this woman sent a terrifying chill down her spine.&nbsp; <br><br>Was she feeling intimidation because she was in the presence of a powerful woman or was it something else?&nbsp; The dark look in this woman's eyes pierced her, look through her bodice, her flesh, and into her soul.<br><br>For three heartbeats, she was frozen, blank and numb to everything around her, except the lady before her.&nbsp; Then her mother's voice scolded her within her head and she curtsied deeply.&nbsp; Her head bowed low and her hands holding her skirts as she had been taught by her instructors in school.&nbsp; "I am very honored to be accepted here, Marquise de Lyon."&nbsp; <br><br>It was a phrase her mother had her practiced and practiced over and over before she was allowed to go&nbsp; <br><br>The Marquise looked up from whatever had been engaging her thoughts, her dark eyes locking on the young woman who'd just entered her chamber, and for the full length of their mutual silence, her face remained impassive in its review of the girl. When Colette began her salutation, a smile broke across her face, her dark painted lips pulling taught her powdered face until they curled up slightly at the end, a warmth radiating through her whole countenance that seemed to utterly banish the coldness of a moment before.<br>&nbsp;<br>Adjusting herself in her seat, the woman's feet came to touch the ground, shoes making a sharp clack as they connected with the hardwood floor, before she addressed her guest, "Of course, child . . . you're of your mothers blood, so you'll always be welcome here . . ."<br><br>Lorraine rose as she spoke, her great, dark dress unfolding behind her as she was liberated from her seat until it flowed like water as she crossed the room to her guest, her hands taking the girls firmly when she arrived before finishing, "Why . . . I practically consider you family already . . ."<br><br>Outside the room, the maid heard these words with a knowing smile, closing the door politely on the meeting of the two women before returning to the household's main entrance where her deft hands worked quickly to bolt closed the home, locking it against any and all outside. <br><br>Colette felt very reassured once the coldness left the Marquise's face.&nbsp; Her heartbeat slowed, but her pulse was still high as the woman approached her. Her hands were cool to the touch, but very very soft like cream.&nbsp; She inhaled the scent of roses that held a sharp edge like steel.&nbsp; <br><br>Colette smiled, she was lovely thing to behold.&nbsp; Blond hair tied up leaving her long neck bare.&nbsp; Her skin was a creamy white, having been bathed in milk and kept out of the sun as much as possible by her nursemaids and her tutors.&nbsp; <br><br>Full lips tilted up in a soft smile and her deep sky blue eyes reflected the curious innocence of her mentor.&nbsp; "My mother told me that you and she were classmates in school.&nbsp; She said that you were very close bosom friends."<br><br>The Marquise seemed to be taken by thought for a moment, one hand leaving the young girl's to venture towards her own chin, pondering for a moment, before refocusing on Colette to reply, "We were indeed . . . though that seems like a very long time ago now." <br><br>Her freed hand then ventured toward the young woman, first caressing her shoulder warmly before skipping to her chin to lift it slightly and obtain a better look at Colette's features. With a renewed smile, Lorraine said pleasantly, "Your mother's descriptions did not do you justice . . . you're a very pretty and polite young woman . . ." <br><br>The older woman's fingers lingered for a moment, dancing over her new wards face and testing both chin and cheek like the legs of a spider . . . until they were withdrawn slowly . . .to be propped against the older woman's hip. "How long have you been on the road, dear?" <br><br>The question came with sincerity and a shine in the woman's eyes, as if expressing genuine interest in the younger one's travels. Yt==Colette refused the need to twist her face away from the Marquise's touch.&nbsp; That would be very rude and would devastated her mother.&nbsp; Her mother ordered her to act as if she was in the same room as her in order to properly maintain her manners.&nbsp; "For many hours, madame.&nbsp; But I did take a small nap on the way.&nbsp; It was a very nice trip, being so warm despite it being Fall."<br><br>Colette's traveling clothes were a deep burgundy with dark green fringes and lace.&nbsp; Her small handbag hung at her wrist and it contained her elegant fan and her mannerism book. <br><br>Colette stared up at the woman, curious about how this dark level headed woman was friends with her frantic and worrisome mother.&nbsp; This woman was very tall and held an elegance about her that could rival's the queen's.&nbsp; Colette pondered if it was possible that she was related to the Royal Family.&nbsp; Colette felt her cheeks turn pink as a dull blush crept on her.<br><br>The older woman smiled secretly to herself at Colette's obvious efforts to control her own impulses, enjoying the slight timidity that came when faced with an obvious superior, before continuing the conversation"If that's the case," Lorraine said, "then you're no doubt rather hungry now, and after so long in the carriage, perhaps a bath and a change of clothes would do you well?"<br>&nbsp;The Marquise reclaimed her other hand from the girl, then quickly made a short clap. Almost immediately, another door at the far end of the room opened, and another young woman came in, and though she was dressed as the first maid, her clothes were obviously in more disrepair. It was obvious from a first impression that this girl was not the high-ranking servant that the first one had been.<br><br>The Marquise's voice came sharply then, "Nicole, see that this new guest gets to her room and has everything she needs." <br><br>The maid bowed quickly in response, a small, nervous affectation visible as she subtly bit her lip before rising and walking to Colette's side. <br><br>"Yes, Mistress Lyon."&nbsp; The maid whispered softly and Colette was motioned to follow her.&nbsp; <br><br>The young ward took one last look at her new mentor and then followed the nervous maid.&nbsp; The maid didn't speak, as most are prone to do with young ladies.&nbsp; <br><br>And when Colette tried to ask her questions, she responded in short answers with no further elaboration.<br>&nbsp;<br>"Did you know the Marque?"<br>"No miss."<br>"Are there horses here?"<br>"Yes miss."<br>"Do you think I could go horse back riding?"<br>"That is a question for the Mistress, miss."<br><br>Colette gave up, trying to engage in conversation as she was left up the stairs to a tall tower in the west wing.&nbsp; The stairs was a long climb and as she was beginning to feel an ache in her legs, the maid halted at the bedroom and unlocked the door with a large brass key.&nbsp; The key was iron and was very long and thick and it made a loud click as the door was unlocked.&nbsp; The warmth of the room touched Colette's face as she entered.&nbsp; She stood amazed at the lavished room before her that would be hers for however long her training takes.&nbsp; The bed was tall and very large, wide enough for five people to sleep side by side.&nbsp; <br><br>The hearth already had a small fire set and it kept the room warm and cozy.&nbsp; An grand oak desk that was already stocked with expensive stationary made her almost gleeful.&nbsp; She could write her pen pal in private in her own room instead of having to borrow a study to write.&nbsp; <br><br>She was already planning what she was going to write Adela, her dear friend from school as the maid approached the closet.&nbsp; "The mistress has already stocked your closet with clothes, miss.&nbsp; She will have selected a dress for your to wear to dinner tonight after your bath."<br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aragem</strong> on <strong>28-11-2009, 09:27:11</strong>
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				With that, the maid bowed before turning to leave, saying quietly, "I'll begin drawing your bath and will come to get you when it's ready . . ." The girl <br><br>seemed nervous as she walked from the room, as if facing something uncomfortable to come.<br><br>Colette took this time to change clothes into a more comfortable house dress and began writing a letter to Adela.&nbsp; She wrote about her trip and about the <br><br>Marquise.&nbsp; She paused in her writing deciding that she would write about her dinner with the Marquise before arranging for a courier to take it.&nbsp; She then <br><br>began a letter to her mother, making sure she notated that she minded her manners and that the Marquise seems like a kind lady.&nbsp; She took would finish the <br><br>letter tonight after dinner to share her experience with her mother as well.&nbsp; <br><br>Colette sat at the desk for a long moment and then began a third letter, to Dion.<br><br><em>"Beloved, the journey was smooth one, but painful.&nbsp; I knew that each turn of the wheel carried me further from you and our garden.&nbsp; Your flower is with me, hidden and held close to&nbsp; my heart.&nbsp; I hope you are well and is still serving my mother as you said you would.&nbsp; This arrangement is not forever.&nbsp; I will return home soon and that is all the more reason for me to study hard under the Marquise, for the sooner I am a Lady, the sooner I can return."</em><br><br>No sooner had the girl lain her pen to rest then did the maid return, knocking first before opening the door discretely to silently usher the girl to her <br><br>bath. As Colette joined her, Nicole led the way down the hall a ways until they arrived at a new door which was, again, opened with the same iron key, lock <br><br>clicking loudly before releasing to allow them into the bathing room. <br><br>Inside the tiled room, a large, round tub sat, easily spacious enough to accommodate two or three people . . . more if they weren't squeamish. Filled to the <br><br>brim with clearly hot water, steam rose from the surface before filling the room, fogging a great mirror that had been placed on the opposite wall. One of <br><br>the maid's hands stretched toward the structure, as if presenting her work to the young miss, head bowed. <br><br>Colette smiled graciously.&nbsp; This was far more elegant, then a tin tub in a closet.&nbsp; "This will do, Nichole, thank you."&nbsp; <br><br>Nichole nodded silently and placed her hands at the clips at Colette's back.&nbsp; Colette allowed the woman to undress, peeling back layers of cloth, petticoats, <br><br>and chemise.&nbsp; Colette felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she stood before the mirror, wiped clean of dew by Nichole's hand and stood nude before the mirror. <br><br>&nbsp;Colette crossed her arms over her chest, her cheeks pink as the maid removed the pins from her hair, letting it cascade in a golden water fall down her <br><br>back.&nbsp; <br><br>She had never been fully undressed before.&nbsp; True, she had been helped getting dressed and undressed before but it was usually to her underwear, her chemise <br><br>where the maids allowed her to change or undress for a bath.&nbsp; Perhaps this was how the Marquise bathed. <br><br>Once the young woman had been liberated from all of her clothes, Nichole took her hand, eyes still averted to the floor, and helped her to some steps fixed to <br><br>the floor beside the tub, coaxing her up them before aiding her as she settled into the bath, standing back for a moment, awkwardly, as if uncertain how she <br><br>should proceed . . .<br><br>The water was hot and it warmed Colette's flesh as she settled into the scented water.&nbsp; She sighed, as the water depth was up to her shoulders.&nbsp; She leaned <br><br>her head back, wetting her hair.&nbsp; The sudden heat made her nipples hard and they peaked in twin peaks from her small round breasts.&nbsp; She lowered a hand down <br><br>her stomach to the apex of her thighs.&nbsp; Her thoughts were still to Dion and the heat rolled down her stomach making her ache in places that told her that she <br><br>was a woman. <br><br>As Colette finally settled into the tub, Nicole stood back, knotting her fingers before her as her face twisted slightly. Finally, she stepped forward and <br><br>retrieved the sponge and soap from a nearby wash basin before approaching the bathing girl. "Excuse me," her voice managed, "but the mistress was . . . quite <br><br>explicit . . . I-I am to handle your bathing for you . . ."<br><br>Colette exhaled, she had wanted some private time for herself, but she nodded.&nbsp; "I understand.&nbsp; Please, go ahead."<br><br>The woman took the sponge, wetting it in the water beside the young girl before applying the soap that smelled of lavender, and, standing behind the young <br><br>blond, began to scrub the girl down. She moved with a practiced motion, as if she'd been forced to rehearse the motions for nearly hours on end, though she <br><br>quivered slightly as she slowly scoured the young woman she'd been ordered to attend to. She began with the arms, alternatively soaping and scrubbing them <br><br>down, the light scraping of the sponge wielded adeptly by a woman who was obviously uncomfortable.<br><br>After addressing Colette's shoulders and arms, she prompted her to lean forward, before beginning with her back, hands and sponge continuing to shake as they <br><br>skimmed the girls soft, pale skin. The motions continued, cleaning the young woman's back a good deal longer than was probably necessary, but Nicole was <br><br>doing what she could to avoid moving forward. Eventually, however, the scrubbing at Colette's back ceased, and a hand at her shoulder motioned her to again <br><br>sit back in the tub. Clearly hesitant, the maid finally reached around her subject to begin addressing the girls front . . . starting by taking one pert <br><br>breast in hand, coaxing it to the side, and taking the sponge to the furrow of the young woman's cleavage . . . <br><br>The young lady had her eyes closed enjoying the sensation of being bathed by another.&nbsp; The sponge felt good to her skin and the warmth and motion was very <br><br>soothing.&nbsp; She felt as if she could fall asleep in this tub, until . . . Colette made a soft gasp as the shaking hand held her breast and the sponge swept <br><br>down between her breasts.&nbsp; She turned her head to the side, her mouth opened gasping for air and her eyes open wide.&nbsp; Was this how high ladies bathe?&nbsp; <br><br>Allowing their maids to. . . touch them like this?&nbsp; The last time she was bathed was when she was a young child, but since then, she had been taught to bathe <br><br>herself.&nbsp; She bite her lip, and tried to find enjoyment from the massage of the bathe, but her back was stuff and her face very red.&nbsp; She gasped as the <br><br>maid's thumb rolled over the very hard nipple.<br><br>Nicole continued dutifully, though her anxiousness seemed redoubled by Colette's startled reaction to the bathing. Slowly, her hands continued to lather the <br><br>sensitive flesh of the girl's bosom, till the maid's fingers began to probe, stretching and pinching lightly at the soft skin, massaging its mass until they <br><br>found the nipple. The sponge continued its work, trailing down the girl's abdomen to play at cleaning her stomach as Nicole continued her work, eyes still <br><br>struggling to remain averted as she continued with her very explicit orders . . . fingers now taking the stiff teat in hand before rolling it between thumb <br><br>and pointer . . .<br><br>Colette groaned as the sensation spread across her breast.&nbsp; It hurt and tingled at the same time.&nbsp; Was this bathing?&nbsp; She didn't think that it was.&nbsp; "Ni. . . <br><br>Nicole, what. . . what are you doing?"&nbsp; She breathed huskily, her wet hair clung to her neck and shoulders as she leaned forward.&nbsp; Her breathing became deep <br><br>and the heat in her belly was become hotter and hotter as if lava had been poured into her belly.&nbsp; The girl clutched her hands tightly into two fists at her <br><br>knees and something between her thighs seemed to.&nbsp; . . blossom. YT<br><br>The maid's voice came softly, as if speaking was difficult to manage while continuing with her task, "I'm sorry miss, but the Mistress ordered . . ." The <br><br>hand that worked Colette's breast continued, playing lightly until switching to the other, consequently hugging the girl tightly against the wall of the tub <br><br>as Nicole continued. The sponge now reached further down, dusting lightly over Colette's most sensitive space, the abrasion of the scrub at once painful and <br><br>pleasing to the aroused young woman. <br><br>Colette knew she had the power to order the maid to stop.&nbsp; It was something she never did before.&nbsp; The maids in her household had answered only to her mother <br><br>and her mother's word was law in the house.&nbsp; Colette was just a possession of her mother's that the maids cared for and did as her mother ordered for Colette. <br><br>&nbsp;But innately, Colette knew that if she pushed hard enough, the maids would obey her as being the daughter of the lady, she far outranked them.&nbsp; <br><br>But the worlds "Stop" or "No more" never came to her lips.&nbsp; She leaned forward, her breasts pressing into the mercy of the maid's palm.&nbsp; Her breathing became <br><br>deeper and harder.&nbsp; She was breathing as if she had ran for a long time.&nbsp; And the sensation between her thighs, she couldn't describe it.&nbsp; It made her knees <br><br>jerk and her nails bite into her palm at each stroke.&nbsp; Colette swallowed, "What. .&nbsp; . .did she ordered you to.&nbsp; . .do exactly. . . .?"&nbsp; She moaned then, long <br><br>and her eyes closed. <br><br>Nicole continued to to rub and play, though as the girl thrust herself into the maid's arms, she tightened her grip, pulling her back to the wall of the tub <br><br>and applying renewed pressure. The reply was coming quickly, as if Nicole hoped that by speaking fast, the exercise would end sooner, "I was ordered to pay <br><br>special a-attention to a y-young woman's needs . . ." Eventually, the hand that played at Colette's breasts left them, trailing down to join the other at the <br><br>fertile ground between her thighs. Her soapy fingers began to massage the surrounding area, but just as quickly, the sponge fled, retreating to the young <br><br>woman's thighs and avoiding the crotch. Nicole had been given another order . . . and that was that Colette should know no release until the Lorraine deemed <br><br>it appropriate.<br><br>Colette exhaled a long sigh as she leaned against the tubside.&nbsp; Her breathes heaved and fell as her deep breathes&nbsp; drew much needed air to her lungs.&nbsp; She <br><br>felt sapped, as if the water was draining her life from her.&nbsp; She felt empty and disappointment as if Nichole had taken something away from her after waving <br><br>it under her nose promising it to her.&nbsp; She gritted her teeth, relieved and disappointed that Nichole stopped and not understanding why.&nbsp; <br><br>Just as easily, she could have ordered the maid to resume, but she wasn't lady of the house.&nbsp; She couldn't order around maid of another, especially since she <br><br>was a young guest in the Marquise's house.&nbsp; She swallowed, "Will you bathe me like this again?" <br>: Nicole seemed to be as exhausted as her charge was, her own breath labored though she fought to hide it. Though Colette could not see it, her <br><br>attendant had begun squeezing her thighs together, as if fighting urges she desperately yearned to satisfy . . . as if this task had been a special torture <br><br>for her. Finally, after collecting herself, she managed a short response as she finished the young woman's bathing, "That is a question for the Mistress . . <br><br>."<br><br>After Nicole finished with her legs, the bathwater had cooled to lukewarm and Colette found that she was ready to get out.&nbsp; She was helped into robe as <br><br>Nichole set about drying her hair thoroughly with a thick towel and patted her skin dry.&nbsp; Colette didn't mention any more about Nichole's ministrations to <br><br>her body and remained silent as they left the bath together.&nbsp; When they returned to her bedroom, there waiting for her was an elegant white gown with blue <br><br>lace and fringes.&nbsp; <br><br>Colette marvel over the white velvet and blue silk, it was the most beautiful thing she had seen in her whole short life.&nbsp; She dared not touch it lest, she <br><br>push a wrinkle in the smooth fabric.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aragem</strong> on <strong>28-11-2009, 09:43:15</strong>
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				The dining hall of the Marquise de Lyon's mansion was of extravagant, if not opulent, fair. The room maintained the sensibilities common through the rest of <br><br>the house, including solid hardwood floors, walls draped in swathes of dark cloth, and a pattern of golden filigree incorporating the ivy and leaf design <br><br>that Colette had first noticed at the estates front gate. The room was long, and central to its area was a proportionally long dining table . . . one that <br><br>appeared as if it could easily seat 30 or 40 people. Sconces lit the length of the room, designed as lamps of iron that emerged from between the wall's <br><br>covering, as if from nowhere, but the majority of light came from the large chandelier that hung above the table's center, light refracting through its <br><br>crystal countenance to fill the room. <br><br>One wall was taken up predominantly by a majestic set of windows, gilded into panes by shining brass frames, chopping up the vista beyond into picturesque <br><br>little snapshots of the surrounding countryside. At the head of the table, in a rather luxurious chair, sat the Marquise, awaiting the arrival of her dinner <br><br>guest with a large and comfortable chair provided for her at the other end of the room. <br><br>Colette arrived, her white skirts whispering as Nichole led her to the grand dining hall.&nbsp; Her blue eyes took it all in and she inhaled the distant scent of <br><br>cooking meat and other foods that made her realized how hungry she was.&nbsp; It had been a long time since she had tea and biscuits at a cafe on the way to the <br><br>mansion.&nbsp; She curtsied low and deeply to the lady of the manor.&nbsp; "The dress you have selected for me is most gracious and beautiful.&nbsp; You have my deepest <br><br>thanks." <br><br>Nicole pulled out the chair for the young lady, bidding her seat before again pushing it in to the table so that she was comfortably close to it. The <br><br>nervous maid then departed, walking from the room past her mistress, who smiled at her with piercing eyes that seemed aglow with the light of the burning <br><br>candles, bringing a shudder down the spine of the obviously perturbed serving girl. A snap from Lorraine brought the kitchen doors swinging open, two <br><br>identical young men entering the room promptly with covered dishes in hand. They appeared to walk in unison, even after separating to present their bounties <br><br>to the women seated for dinner, but even then, they moved as one. After uncovering the appetizers, they departed as quickly as they'd arrived, leaving the <br><br>two alone in the great room.<br>: The Marquise, in order to occupy her guest during these theatrics, as if completely unconcerned with the exacting nature of the choreography <br><br>herself, asked pointedly, "I trust you feel a little more refreshed now after the long day of riding that brought you to me?" YT<br>23: Colette watched the servants move as if they were simple automatons.&nbsp; She never saw such silent service, such proper movement.&nbsp; No movement or <br><br>motion was wasted.&nbsp; They made her mother's servants resemble clumsy monkeys in comparison.&nbsp; The scent of the roasted lamb made her mouth water and she was <br><br>quick to swallow and hide her hunger with a small smile.&nbsp; "I feel wonderful, Marquise De Lyon.&nbsp; I was more weary from the travel than I had thought."&nbsp; <br>23: She watched the men serve the food, bringing her a plate laden with meat and freshly cooked vegetables that had been grown from the Marquise's own <br><br>estate.&nbsp; Everything on the table had been provided from her land.&nbsp; Colette tried to imagine what it was like to be so self reliant and curled her hands on <br><br>her lap.&nbsp; *YT*<br>: The Marquise's eyes were latched on the young girl, pleasant, but not altogether wholesome as they appeared to drink her in with an <br><br>otherworldly quality, as if they saw through the girl into who she was at her very core. No action was lost to them, and even the minutest of details <br><br>unfolded before them to speak volumes of the young woman. Slowly, Lorraine cleared her throat, her hands taking up the silverware and napkin placed at her <br><br>seat, putting the latter into her lap before truly taking the former to task. With a discerning, almost artful grace, her fork plucked a bit of food from her <br><br>plat to deliver to her waiting mouth, the exquisite pleasure of the meal displayed in the way her lips grew full and puckered, the way her eyes closed so as <br><br>to shut out the distraction of sight, the way<br>: she smelled the food even as she ate at it. After the short reprieve, she returned to watching her young ward, her eyes speaking volumes that <br><br>the girl had little hope of understanding. "Tell me, darling," she said with an undertone of cunning running through every word, "what exactly has your <br><br>mother said about me?"<br><br>Colette stared at the perfection of the Marquise's meal.&nbsp; She only hoped that she nearly matched the artful way she ate.&nbsp; She worried that she was opening <br><br>her mouth too big when she took a bite or if she was holding her fork and knife correctly.&nbsp; She counted her chews and then swallowed.&nbsp; "My mother has spoken <br><br>most highly of you.&nbsp; She says that you were the instructors' favorite and excelled at everything you took to task."<br>23: Colette then thought about how well her mother had done in school.&nbsp; She had never mentioned it and kept the talk about the Marquise.&nbsp; "Her voice is <br><br>always full of praise and respect for you, madame.&nbsp; And I hope to learn a lot under your tutelage."<br><br>Lorraine's eyes narrowed, though it appeared she was watching the young woman's words more than the girl herself. As she continued to eat, taking bites so <br><br>well timed they hardly seemed to interrupt her speech, the Marquise said, "She would say that . . . and I suppose she's neglected to ever mention that she <br><br>graduated before me?"<br><br>Colette halted, with her fork near her mouth.&nbsp; She lowered it and tilted her head.&nbsp; "She did?&nbsp; She never mentioned that.&nbsp; I always assumed that you two <br><br>graduated together or you graduated before her."&nbsp; <br><br>A silent smile crossed the mature woman's lips as she readied her reply, pleased that her comment had provoked the response she's expected. <br>"No, in fact . . . I spent and extra year at the academy, though your mother and I did indeed begin in the same class . . ." It was the only time the only <br><br>time the Marquise had ever appeared distracted to Colette, though it lasted only a moment before her focus returned to the girl who sat opposite her that she <br><br>might savor the inquisitive look on her face. "Why do you think that might have been?"<br><br>The first thought that came to Colette was that Marquise had to repeat a year, but she did not dare let it come to her lips.&nbsp; She sliced a bite from her lamb <br><br>and thought out her careful response.&nbsp; "I believe it was because you wished to continue your training."&nbsp; She wondered if everything that her mother had told <br><br>her had been true or had been greatly embellished.&nbsp; It wasn't the first time that her mother had such embellishments that borderlined on outright lies and <br><br>conjecture.&nbsp; <br><br>Silverware continued to parse the food, the knife being brought to food pinned down by the fork as if it was an automatic motion, independent of the woman's <br><br>dark eyes that seemed now to be holding Colette in place. "I see your mother has worked diligently to instill in you her same taste for flattery . . ." The <br><br>remark emerged offhandedly, slipping in between bites of food and the hungry looks she seemed to focus on the girl. "It was not, in fact, my dutiful nature <br><br>as a student that bid me stay in that horrid place for an extra season, but the pervasive feeling amongst the staff that I was not the docile creature they <br><br>expected of one of their graduates . . ." Her tone seemed to grow darker, more frustrated as she continued, as if a storm had begun together behind her voice <br><br>and in her mind, roiling on the horizon until it would visit its wrath upon all those present, indiscriminately and without mercy . . . but just as this <br><br>undercurrent seemed to reach its climax, it broke, with the Marquise quipping contritely, <br><br>"But before their extra year of schooling was up, I'd been married to the Marquis de Lyon . . . so I suppose their opinion only carried so much weight." The <br><br>woman seemed to almost chuckle at the irony of this statement, half closed eyes watching languidly as a cat regards a cornered mouse. <br><br>Her fingers froze in pose with her knife and fork.&nbsp; She quailed at the heated look behind those dark eyes directed at her and she feared that she had <br><br>offended the Marquise.&nbsp; She had never heard harsh things spoken of the Finishing School or any school for that matter.&nbsp; She always heard stories of Ladies' <br><br>time being trained and taught to be women of society.&nbsp; Her mother and her ring of friends as well.&nbsp; Now that Colette thought of it, if the Marquise and her <br><br>mother had been so close, then why is it that her mother had to send letter after letter requesting the Marquise to take her in?&nbsp; And then when the response <br><br>finally came, her mother looked elated and surprised as if she wasn't sure that the lady here would perform such a favor.<br><br>Colette suddenly felt sicken by her mother.&nbsp; Her mother had embellished greatly her relationship with the Marquise and Colette felt cheap and embarrassed <br><br>about it.&nbsp; Likely, this lady only accept her in order to stop the tirade of letters that kept arriving at her doorstep.&nbsp; Her mother may have forced her <br><br>rudely onto a stranger and now she was at this stranger's whims being her guest.&nbsp; If Colette had been alone, she would have burst into tears at her mother's <br><br>behavior.<br><br>She set her knife and fork aside and placed her hands on her lap.&nbsp; "My deepest apologies if I have caused you offense, Marquise.&nbsp; I meant no harm and I am <br><br>ashamed that I brought up such bad memories for you of your time in the school.&nbsp; I . . . I did not enjoy the school myself.&nbsp; If. . . if my presence here is <br><br>a hardship, then please, allow me to return home and trouble you no more."<br><br>For a moment, Lorraine's eyes opened fully with one eyebrow arching, if only slightly, before falling again to their perpetual, half-closed regard. Her fork <br><br>skewered the last piece of food on her plate, pressed with precision and deliverance through the tender piece of meat, before bringing it finally to the <br><br>waiting woman's pallate. As she chewed, savoring this last bit of her appetizer with a look on her face akin to regret, her eyes remained ever focused on her <br><br>dinner-guest, until, at last, she lay her utensils down, prompting servants through the door again like clockwork to relieve them of their finished plates. <br><br>Amidst the ballet of menial work, the Marquise reclined in her chair, one hand raised thoughtfully to her face as the other came to rest on the arm of the <br><br>chair.<br><br>As their next course was delivered to them, she sat forward again and spoke, "If you are indeed such a burden, then I will treat you as one." Her words were <br><br>neither cold nor cruel, but practical and firm, confident as if she spoke of things as simple and straightforward as money simple etiquette. "Your mother <br><br>begged me to take you under my wing and introduce you to a society she could not, and I will do that . . . if only to gratify my own sense of honor, but you <br><br>will be schooled." <br><br>So she is no longer a guest, but a burden and a way for the Marquise to save face.&nbsp; She silently cursed herself.&nbsp; She should have been more mindful of her <br><br>tongue.&nbsp; That was her problem her instructors constantly berated her about.&nbsp; She spoke more than she should and asked questions she shouldn't.&nbsp; If there was <br><br>one thing she hoped to come away with was that she would learn to hold her tongue and not let it take her into troublesome waters.&nbsp; She smoothed her napkin <br><br>across her skirt and took up the position with her knife and fork.&nbsp; She felt a small stirring of anger at the woman's cold bluntness.&nbsp; She didn't exactly <br><br>wanted to come.&nbsp; She didn't want to leave her Dion behind for her mother's whims.<br><br>"I promise to study hard and not be a burden to you at all, Marquise."&nbsp; She promised and meanted those words with all of her heart.&nbsp; She had to save face <br><br>herself now too.&nbsp; To show that despite her mother's childish antics, she would prevail and be a proper lady. *YT*<br><br>"Of that, my dear, I have no doubt, because I will allow for nothing else." The Marquise began this next course with the same adept hands that had carried <br><br>her through the last, fork and knife working in unison despite her arms' seeming lack of motion. It was in this poignant silence that they passed through the <br><br>rest of the meal, until, at its conclusion, Nicole was summoned back to the room where she received whispered instructions at the Marquise's chairside before <br><br>being ushered off to escort the young guest from dinner and back to her room. Nicole, for her part, did so promptly, though the nerves that had pervaded <br><br>every aspect of her appearance since Colette's first encounter with her remained. <br><br>Colette allowed the maid to help her change into a night dress and dismissed the maid.&nbsp; She stay up, finishing her letters with artful penstrokes.&nbsp; She wrote <br><br>Adela, her dear friend from school, <em>"It is as I had feared.&nbsp; Mother had persisted until she had forced me onto the Marquise who actually called me a burden at dinner tonight.&nbsp; Oh, dear friend, I am most grieved by this and I am rather crossed with mother for allowing this."</em><br><br>She considered writing a harsh letter to her mother, but decided against it.&nbsp; She simply wrote that the Marquise intended to school her beginning tomorrow <br><br>and not to worry.&nbsp; She was angry with her mother, yes, but she still loved the woman, and did not wish to hurt her.<br><br>She turned her attention to the final letter and the most fear to her.&nbsp; She finished the letter, promising her heart and soul to Dion and finished it by <br><br>sealing a lock of her hand in the folded page and sealed them all with a waxed insignia.&nbsp; She set them in a neat pile on her desk for the courier to take and <br><br>deliver on the morn.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Whiskey Jack</strong> on <strong>29-11-2009, 00:15:36</strong>
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				Unbeknown to Colette, Nicole returned in the middle of the night, creeping quietly into the room to retrieve the stack of letters so carefully prepared for mailing, and after stowing them thoughtfully beneath her arm, quickly retreated from the closing the door behind her with as little noise as possible. For a moment, the maid stood with missives in hand, curious about their contents, but she was quickly reminded of her own frustrations . . . frustrations that had come about after the last time she'd disobeyed the mistress of the house. All at once, she re-experienced all of the nervous anxiety that she'd been put through in bathing the new guest, the jealousy she'd felt as the new girl experienced pleasures she'd been forcefully deprived of . . . pleasures she'd been forced to deliver. It wasn't fair, and in that private moment she had there in the hall, Nicole seethed with resentment, but she was all to quickly reminded that only one person had the power to liberate her from these frustrations, and that earning that liberation required "dutiful servitude," as Maggie, the most senior maid had phrased it. <br><br>With that in mind, Nicole hurried off down the halls of the great house, nervously trembling with every hastened step until she arrived at the mistress's private chambers. After taking a moment to compose herself as best she could, she rapped at the door. When no response came, her heart momentarily sank . . . until the tumbling of the lock signaled the opening of the door by Mag herself, the head maid in the service of their mistress, the Marquise de Lyon, who simply looked her up and down quietly, a knowing smile present on her face. Without thinking, the nervous young maid quickly handed the letters to her superior, who, without a second's hesitation, turned and walked with graceful quietude to the bedside of Lorraine. Mag knelt on one knee, palms upturned to present them to their severe Lady, who, for her part, took them with the graciousness owed to a favorite pet and dismissed her to handle Nicole.<br><br>The Marquise popped open the wax seals and began to read them, scanning each line to pick out the most pertinent details, and while she was so occupied, Nicole was ushered inside the room, the door latching as it closed tightly. Lorraine was pleased to see that no mention of the night's real events would reach Madame Dantes, and was intrigued at the notion that young Colette had a trusted correspondent in this friend from school. What surprised her the most, however, was this Dion child she'd promised her heart to.<br><br>As their mistress was preoccupied with her readings, Mag set about teasing Nicole, who she'd grabbed from behind. The young maid was pressed tightly against her elder, her arms pinned to her side by the other woman's impressive grip that had coiled itself about her just beneath the bust. Mag's other hand found refuge on Nicole's hip, stroking the girl through the soft black fabric of her long, uniform skirt, until it began traverse the distance to her nether regions, slipping furtively beneath her apron to truly tease the girl. When Nicole gave way and let out a startled squeak, the Marquise's eyes darted up from the letters that held her attention, narrowing on the impertinent young servant who'd dared to interrupt her focus. Without a word, Nicole averted her eyes in shame, resigned to suffering the trespasses of the older maid in a subdued silence, even as Mag began to toy with the small lock hidden beneath her dress . . .<br><br>Finally, Lorraine looked up from the light reading, motioning that her writing tablet be brought to her at once, and the two maids responded with utmost haste. The noble woman then set about writing a letter of her own, addressed to Colette's ever nervous mother, suggesting the apparent ill-humour her daughter had been in since migrating to such unfamiliar surroundings. She wrote of her pity for the despondent young girl, separated from the only world she'd ever known, and so proposed a solution. Lorraine was in need of a good gardener for her hedges, and wondered if, perhaps, Madame Dantes would be wiling to spare one of her own to provide a familiar face for the young woman's comfort. Satisfied with the appeal, she handed off the stack of letters to the maids to be sealed and re-sealed for delivery before retiring to bed herself, content that things were finally falling into place.<br><br>As the morning sun came streaming through the windows, bringing the balm of wakefulness to Colette’s slumbering eyes, Nicole was already in her room, preparing a dress for her to wear to breakfast at Lorraine’s request. It was a charming thing, cut in indigo and white with a rather generous, yet still quite strict, corset built into the bodice. It was elegant in its simple pattern, avoiding the gaudy frills that seemed to overcome so much of the Paris fashion in these days . . . its only unusual features being some odd lacings that criss-crossed up and down the sides of both the arms and body. There purpose was, for now, inscrutable . . .
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aragem</strong> on <strong>02-12-2009, 06:35:51</strong>
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				Colette took her time bathing her face at the basin.&nbsp; Rinsing her face each morning would keep her skin clear and clean and it also served the purpose of pulling her out of sleepiness to greet the day.&nbsp; She brushed her own hair out, 150 strokes of the brush till the bristles glided like fish through water in her golden locks.&nbsp; She stood and approached a waiting Nichole to put on the lovely dress.&nbsp; "I'm ready to dress, Nichole."<br><br>Nicole waited dutifully as Colette rose, still nervous, but not nearly to the extent she'd been yesterday. Once the young woman was ready, the anxious maid picked up the dress and being systematically garbing the young girl with it. <br><br>The hardest part was getting the whole assemblage onto her frame in the first place, though the fact that it opened almost completely down the back made that slightly less of an issue. Once Colette had slipped into it, Nicole began lacing up the back, making sure to pull each and every cross tight to cinch down her waist. The dress left Colette's shoulder blades mostly visible, though its front was demonstrably higher. Laces were tightened at the shoulder as well to hold the sleeves in place. <br><br>Finally, Nicole stepped back for a moment to admire her handiwork before finishing the last bit of the dress's secret lacing. "Well, what do you think?"<br><br>Colette studied herself in the tall and wide mirror.&nbsp; She never wore a dress of this style and cut before.&nbsp; She knew that once she was introduced to the court that she would wear gowns that revealed more flesh, but she never saw a dress that revealed most of her back.&nbsp; The laces were comfortable, but very snug.&nbsp; It felt as if the dress had been craft with her measurements in mind.&nbsp; She twitched her hips watching the skirt flow around her and the fabric whispered at her feet.&nbsp; She still loved the dress and with her hair pinned up, it would look lavish upon her.&nbsp; She almost wished she was going to a ball in this dress instead of to breakfast.&nbsp; <br><br>"I love it, please, put my hair up and. . . .leave a few strands loose to frame my face."&nbsp; <br><br>Nicole's brow furrowed momentarily at the maiden's request until she managed to stutter out a response, "A-actually, I'm not yet done fastening your dress. Nicole indicated towards the laces that run up the sides of the dress and down the inside of its arms, not quite sure how to explain their purpose . . .”<br><br>Colette blinked and cocked her head at the dress confused .&nbsp; It looked perfect without further adjustments, but if the laces came with the dress then she shouldn't refused them for fashion's sake.. . . . "Very well, but please hurry.&nbsp; I do not wish to be late for breakfast."&nbsp; Colette took up the position at the mirror and waited for the maid.<br><br>Nicole approached the girl hesitantly, finally working up the courage to begin lacing the stiff ribbons between the eyelets on the arm and body. She proceeded from the top, just beneath the armpit, to the bottom where the laces dead-ended at the waist. As she cinched the laces, it brought Colette's arm tight against her body, leaving it free from the elbow down, but holding it immobilized from their to the shoulder. Without a word, she then began steadily working on the other arm . . . <br><br>Colette stared at herself in the mirror surprised.&nbsp; Was she expected to not move her hands to her face at all.&nbsp; She moved her arm experimentally and her heart was filled with dread at the discomfort.&nbsp; Who would wear such a thing?&nbsp; Then she realized it must be a training dress to improve posture.&nbsp; <br><br>She sagged inwardly at the thought of the strict training that was sure to follow.&nbsp; "Nichole, please, loose the laces for me, just a bit."<br><br>"I-I'm sorry miss, but it was the Mistress's command that they be laced tightly . . . as tightly as possible." She continued with her work unphased, until, after much work and tightening, both of Colette's arms were fixed tightly to her body. <br><br>Nicole stepped back then, hands folded before her as the young woman looked herself up and down. After a moment, she retreated to gather a matching ribbon for use in her hair, working to fix it up in the style asked of her.<br><br>Colette stared at the laces with disliked.&nbsp; She wanted nothing more than to take a pair of sewing scissors and snip right through them, but she knew that would ruin the purpose of the dress and that it would make the Marquise rather cross with her.&nbsp; And she did promise that she would be a willing student.&nbsp; She would have to accept this as part of her training regime and suffer in silence.&nbsp; <br><br>She closed her eyes and enjoyed the combing and brushing of Nichole's hands and brush.&nbsp; As her hair was gathered and folded to be lifted off her fair neck and collected together with a ribbon.&nbsp; She tugged free two mediocre strands of golden hair and let it hang loose framing Colette's sweet face.&nbsp; Colette studied herself in the mirror, "Should I wear a bit of makeup?"<br><br>Nicole seemed taken aback by the question, as if unused to the idea of her opinion being requested. After the momentary shock, she responded simply, "I-I wouldn't presume to know the answer . . ." <br><br>With that, Nicole stepped back, ready to escort the young miss to her breakfast with the Marquise. Her eyes fell to the ground, expecting almost impatiently the chance to escape this infuriating servitude.<br><br>Colette studied herself in the mirror.&nbsp; No, no makeup for now.&nbsp; She would have to wait and see or better yet, discuss it with the Marquise.&nbsp; She rose, at first a bit clumsy due to her restricted arms, but she righted herself and collected the anxious made.&nbsp; <br><br>She pondered what was wrong with Nichole.&nbsp; Most maids she had known or came across had been either very talkative or looked very bored or even dutiful.&nbsp; Nichole always looked nervous as if expecting to be severely scolded at the slightest offense.<br><br>She followed the maid, taking note of the turns and marking recognizable pieces of decor to help her learn the layout of her new home.&nbsp; She wondered where they were going, back to the dining hall or perhaps there was a more cozy place to eat. <br><br>As they descended the stairs that led to the second story, they approached, instead of the grand, formal dining hall, another one of the rooms that branched off from the main hall. The door was opened with deference for the escorted young woman, revealing the Marquise waiting within. <br><br>The room was a breakfast nook, a window seat overlooking the hedge maze beyond, and Lorraine was seated there, a small table placed before her with another seat opposite. Two places were set, complete with cups of a warm, ginger tea and fresh baked crescents set out on small china plates. <br><br>The mistress looked up at their entrance, her eyes seemingly nonreactive with their perpetual, half closed gaze, but a slight gesture bid Colette take her seat at the table. "Good morning, darling . . . I trust you slept well?<br><br>Colette curtsied, "I slept very well, Marquise.&nbsp; Thank you for your concern."&nbsp; <br><br>Colette approached the waiting seat with even steps and then carefully seated herself.&nbsp; She hoped that her motion was graceful and she didn't looked like a clumsy waddling goose her instructor once accused her of in school.&nbsp; The lacing at her arms made the act even harder and she sucked in air in fear as she wobbled, but fortunately, did not fall.&nbsp; She smiled at the Marquise, silently praying that she did not notice that falter in her motion.<br>&nbsp; <br>Lorraine smiled slightly . . . the light smile of someone gently amused, though she turned again toward the window, admiring the gardens beyond. She took a great pleasure in the maze that separated her home from the outside world, feeling it bore special significance to her way of life. <br><br>Finally, the Marquise followed up with the question that had been hanging in the air since Colette's entrance, "And how are you liking that dress I selected for you?" <br><br>The remark was a little biting, as if she aimed to provoke a response, though she was far from vicious in her tone. Her eyes looked towards the young woman, though her face did not move. <br><br>Colette accepted the tea that was pored for her by Nichole and replied carefully, "It's rather unusual.&nbsp; It's not something that I am use to, but it is lovely all the same."&nbsp; <br><br>Proper manners would not allow her to say what was really in her heart.&nbsp; She loved how beautiful the dress looked, but she abhorred the slacks.&nbsp; She wanted them undone or loosened to allow her comfort or better yet, cut away from the dress.&nbsp; She took a small sip of her tea after adding some honey and sugar.&nbsp; The tea was quite good.<br><br>Lorraine observed with some amusement the girl's attempts to drink the tea without the ability to move her shoulder, her head propped up by her hand that rested playfully on her chin. Still, her small smile slowly disappeared, gradually replaced with a stern, severe expression of the face that was hard to categorize. "You shouldn't crane your neck so, Colette . . . it's unbecoming for a young woman." <br><br>It was an interesting paradox. To drink with her arms bound so, she needed to dip her head towards the cup as her hands raised it to her mouth, but this behavior was clearly an offense to the lady of the manor. What to do? <br><br>Colette snapped her head up, her eyes full of shame.&nbsp; She remembered her head being thumped when she did such a thing.&nbsp; She wasn't a dog that had to bow it's head to eat or drink.&nbsp; She had arms to lift the cup to her lips, but her arms were bound, they prevented her from lifting it those two inches to her lips for her to take a full sip.&nbsp; "Forgive me, madame.&nbsp; I will not let it happen again."&nbsp; <br><br>She set the teacup down regretfully.&nbsp; The tea was good and her mouth wanted another sip.&nbsp; Also, she could eat her croissant with a fork, letting the fork cover those last two inches, but it was hard to eat dry bread without tea to wet her mouth.&nbsp; She inhaled deeply, and attempted to create conversation with the lady, "Perhaps you can advise me on proper administration of makeup, madame?"<br><br>She mused for a moment on the question, secretly savoring Colette's indecision when faced with her sharp criticism, until the time came to respond and she answered absentmindedly, "Make-up is not a thing a girl your age should be troubling herself with. Your face still has so much natural color to it, after all . . ." <br><br>The Marquise seemed almost bitter with this remark, but it was only a passing affectation. A moment later, the woman once again prodded her house guest, "You see seem . . . unhappy with the wardrobe I selected for you . . . is something bothering you?" <br><br>The answer was obvious to everyone in the room, but half the fun was forcing the girl to actually voice it . . .<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aragem</strong> on <strong>02-12-2009, 06:54:51</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				She mused for a moment on the question, secretly savoring Colette's indecision when faced with her sharp criticism, until the time came to respond and she answered absentmindedly, "Make-up is not a thing a girl your age should be troubling herself with. Your face still has so much natural color to it, after all . . ." <br><br>The Marquise seemed almost bitter with this remark, but it was only a passing affectation. A moment later, the woman once again prodded her house guest, "You see seem . . . unhappy with the wardrobe I selected for you . . . is something bothering you?" <br><br>The answer was obvious to everyone in the room, but half the fun was forcing the girl to actually voice it . . .<br><br>Colette set her cup of tea down, casting her eyes downward.&nbsp; "The laces are something I'm not use to, I will admit.&nbsp; They are a bit restrictive, but I will accept them as part of my training."&nbsp; <br><br>There, if there was one thing that Colette was, it was honesty.&nbsp; She believed in being polite, but didn't the Bible preach that lies were sinful and broke one of the commandments.<br><br>&nbsp;Lorraine's eyes narrowed on the girl now, her playful hand dropping from her face to fall in her lap. "Are you questioning my wisdom, Colette?" <br><br>The words were sharp and came with punctuation, leaving only enough time for a short breath before Lorraine continued, "May I remind you, but your mother commended you into my care . . ." <br><br>Colette was taken aback by the fierce offense she saw apparent in Lady Lorraine's face.&nbsp; "Madame, I assure you that I an offering you no criticism at all.&nbsp; I merely stated that the laces were something that I was not use to, I have no experienced with them, but I will accept them as part of my training.&nbsp; I accept your wisdom whole heartedly and I trust you in all things."&nbsp; <br><br>Colette's words came out in a rush torrent of apologies and clasping of her hands.&nbsp; She had thought she was very polite and neutral in her answer to Lorraine's inquiry.&nbsp; She swallowed a lump in her throat, and felt her heart pound hard beneath her sweet breast. <br><br>Lorraine allowed her anger to recede. Like most emotions, it was a useful mask . . . a necessary role that, when played correctly, could elicit the desired response with much less fuss than more direct means. <br><br>Slowly, she allowed her eyes to resume the lazy, half-open gaze they normally kept, before using a more motherly tone with a hint of scolding to it. "Colette . . . it won't do for you to address me in that way . . . your mother has made me responsible for your continued education . . . you are apprentice to me in the ways of ladyship, and as such, you are as subservient to me as the maids you share this home with." <br><br>She paused for a moment, choosing carefully how best to phrase the next remark.&nbsp; “As such, you will address me as they do . . . as your Mistress . . . do I make myself perfectly understood." The words may have been harsh, but the Marquise's tone was no more severe than a mother informing a small, ignorant child on the facts of the world. Her voice was firm, but it was not oppressive. <br><br>Colette released a long sigh of relief, her heart slowing in her pounding.&nbsp; She felt as if she had narrowly dodged disaster.&nbsp; However, it did seem odd that Colette would have to call Lady Lorraine Mistress as if she was part of the mansion's staff.&nbsp; But on the other hand, that was what she called in instructions at the school and she was given to this woman for training.&nbsp; "Yes ma. . . yes, Mistress, I will address you in anyway you'd like me to."&nbsp; Colette offered her a bright smile, like a child trying to please her mother.<br><br>The Marquise again relaxed, reclining slightly into the window seat to enjoy the splendid view it gave of the water in her pond, glittering in the early morning light. As she did so, a small, wry smile took command of her features. <br><br>Seeing the morning dew evaporate from her fields had given her a rather delicious idea. "Colette, darling," she began abruptly, "Nicole informs me that you'd inquired about borrowing one of my horses to ride with . . ." Lorraine allowed the young woman a moment to recall the conversation before continuing towards the point. "I think I'd like to see you ride, if you'd grace me with an exhibition?"<br><br>Colette instantly brightened.&nbsp; There was nothing she loved more than horseback riding.&nbsp; The freedom of being outside and the thrill of the gallop and then exhilaration of the horse leaping a fence or a hill.&nbsp; "Yes, Mistress, please, I would more than happy to demonstrate my skills!"&nbsp; <br><br>The thought of those open fields and the throb of the horse's movement against her legs quicken her pulse and she inhaled deeply, heaving her chest forward as she scented the open air of the fields.<br><br>"Splendid . . . then we shan't waste a moment longer." A growingly familiar clap from Lorraine brought Nicole scurrying into the room before the Marquise quickly issued some new directives. "See Colette here to the stables so she may change into some more appropriate clothes for riding . . ." <br><br>The young maid seemed about to turn around and take off before Lorraine stopped her with an addition, "And tell the horse master that I'll be out on the field ready for a good showing of her talents, so he should ready the strongest stallion." <br><br>Nicole then nervously approached the young woman's side, placing a hand at her shoulder while offering the other in order to help her from her seat. For her part, Lorraine allowed it, waiting for them to leave themselves before departing for the fields herself. <br><br>Colette rose happily with Nichole's aid, missing the devilish gleam in her Mistress's eye.&nbsp; She hastily returned to her room and had the maid dig through her chests to find her riding clothes, which consisted of brown riding pants with a matching jacket.&nbsp; <br><br>She failed to noticed the bewildered and worried look on the maid's face as she stared at the clothing and helped Colette assembled into them.&nbsp; However, the maid said nothing, but had a fevered looked on her face as she quickly led Colette to the stables with a long stride in her step.&nbsp; It was as if the maid couldn't wait to take Colette to the stables herself.&nbsp; <br><br>The stable master was a powerfully built man, broad and obviously muscled. While the other servants in the manor had appeared scrupulously maintained (with the exception of Nicole), he appeared as if he'd been allowed to soak up all the dirt and dust that accompanied his job with little intervention on the part of the Lorraine. He had even, as strange as it was, been allowed to wear facial hair, having a coarse black beard stretch over his jawline. <br><br>At the arrival of the two young women, he took notice and, quite slowly, left off his task of saddling the fine palomino to meander on over to them. Unlike the other servants Colette had seen, he bore none of the promptness or grace of choreography that seemed to have been drilled into the rest. Nicole stepped back slightly at his approach.<br><br>He eyed Colette carefully before gesturing over his shoulder to the horse, and without a word, walked back towards it, expecting her to follow. After adjusting the last few straps, the saddle was ready, and he presented himself as if ready to help Colette up onto the beast. <br><br>Colette swallowed, and stepped toward the large man.&nbsp; He was offering her his cupped hands which she stepped her small foot easily into.&nbsp; She was hefted very easily onto the beast, with a leg on either side.&nbsp; She smiled, it had been months since she last set upon a horse and she patted the long neck affectionately regretting that she hadn't thought to bring a carrot or some sugar lumps in order to become acquainted with the beast.&nbsp; "What is her name?"&nbsp; <br><br>The gruff man shrugged momentarily, taking the horse and rider by the reigns in order to lead them to the stable doors, speaking as he went in a voice that seemed about as coarse as his coal black hair, "The Mistress calls her 'Life' . . ." <br><br>And just like that, they were at the doors. Colette could not see the entirety of the field from her place at the stable doors, but beyond, Lorraine sat comfortably reclining in a lawn chair that had been lugged into place by the twin butlers that had served them the night before, one fanning her while the other held an umbrella above her head.<br><br>Colette gave the horse a tap with her and off they went.&nbsp; They trotted across the lawn, the hooves clipping up bits of grass and then Colette urged her faster to a near full gallop and then rounding the edge toward the Lady Lorraine.&nbsp; Colette smile, her head bare, with no cap and the sun on her face.&nbsp; <br><br>Yet, her smile faltered when she felt a heavy weight on her body and her joy dissipated like dew on a leaf of grass on a very hot day in the sun.&nbsp; She halted the horse and sat very still as she stared at her Mistress with her soul flooded with despair and shame. <br><br>Lorraine made no effort to disguise the disgust that flooded her features as she watched Colette ride out onto the field in that . . . that mockery of a fashion. One gloved hand took hold of her own cheek, as if in some vain attempt to see if she was dreaming, but the vision of her protégées riding in that manner only drew closer. <br><br>Finally, she stood from her seat, approaching the girl and startling the two attendants who'd never seen her react so . . . hastily. Without offering an explanation, she took hold of the stallion's reigns from the ground, leading back towards the stables where she called to the stable master, "Paul! . . . attend me!" <br><br>Though he didn't move quickly, Paul did move with purpose, until he'd reached the lady's side. "This girl clearly doesn't understand the foolishness of such unladylike riding . . . so fetch the teaching saddle." <br><br>Perhaps he smiled beneath the beard, Colette couldn't tell, but as Paul left, he did seem to have more liveliness in his step than when he'd sauntered over to his mistress. As he left, one of Lorraine's hands extended up towards Colette, accompanied by the words, "Get down from there you foolish girl . . ." <br><br>It was immediately clear that this was no passing perturbation on the part of the Marquise. Real fire seemed to glimmer behind her well-maintained visage.<br><br>Colette remained on the horse, silently cursing her stupidity.&nbsp; Her riding habit was something that her mother allowed her to wear to keep from ruining expensive gowns.&nbsp; It wasn't something that all households allowed their daughters to wear.&nbsp; In her excitement, she had forgotten to wear the riding dress instead.&nbsp; What had started out to be a delightful day had been thoroughly ruined by her own foolishness.&nbsp; <br><br>She could only sit upon the horse as her Mistress guided it furiously back to the stables.&nbsp; She then slipped off the saddle, her mouth worked stammering out apologies and profuse promises of it never happening again.&nbsp; "Mistress, please, I'm sorry, please forgive me.&nbsp; I merely forgot, I meant no offense or harm. . . ."&nbsp; <br><br>She fell silent under the very heavy glare of her Mistress and she swallowed back another apology and her face turned pink with shame.&nbsp; She lifted her head when she heard the stable master return with a special saddle that made her star. <br><br>Lorraine could only reply coldly, "Apologies aren't enough, I'm afraid . . . only a whore would so readily spread her legs like that for a common beast, and I will certainly not be known for schooling a whore." <br><br>The Mistress had been harsh before, but never had Colette heard such venom as this in her words, and as Paul returned with the training saddle, Lorraine continued to explain what must be done, "That is a habit I will break you of immediately." <br><br>As he passed, Paul handed off a bundle of leather straps to the Marquise, whose outstretched and waiting palm took hold of them instantly. He then immediately set to work trading out the saddle he'd previously equipped the horse with for the special one now slung over his shoulder. Before Colette could get a proper look at it, however, Lorraine bid her spin around, and brooking no argument, then commanded, "Place your hands behind your back, Colette." <br><br>Colette obeyed, without a second thought or hesitation.&nbsp; She yelped as she felt the leather wrapped around her delicate wrists and tighten harshly.&nbsp; Her fingers flexed and her elbows bent, but Lorraine was a master of bondage and an expert of restraining a person despite her elegant personage.&nbsp; Colette bit her lip, wondering what form of punishment this was.&nbsp; She had had her hands swatted by a ruler, her ears boxed, and even her cheeks slapped by displeased instructors.&nbsp; <br><br>She noticed Nichole standing at the doorway of the stable, shutting the doors and barring them.&nbsp; There was a feverish pinkness to her cheek and her eyes seemed to glaze.&nbsp; Then Colette was shoved forward and she landed on the straw on her knees and her hair seized, nearly yanking out the careful styled curls.<br><br>"Nicole!" Lorraine called, "be a dear and apply the collar to Colette." <br><br>It was only then that Colette noticed the tall collar of stiff leather that the Marquise held in her outstretched hand, ribbed, it seemed, with the same kind of bones that held a woman's corset strong. The maid took the device timidly, as if having difficulty with the notion of applying it to another human being, but a stern glare from Lorraine put a quick stop to such hesitations. <br><br>As the device was opened, being forcefully fitted about the girls neck so as to command to sit upright, even forcing her head back slightly, Lorraine took to her with her hands. In stark contrast to the way Nicole had gently played with her, the Mistress's hand groped roughly at the girl's breasts, taking one of them firmly in its grip to squeeze and abuse. <br><br>While the other hand held onto the girl's bound wrists, Lorraine pulled her in close to her own body, whispering in her ear, "These English fashions are so very unbecoming of a noble French woman . . ." <br><br>The words stung at Colette as the manhandling continued, Lorraine unabashedly pulling at it through the brown fabric. The other hand released the young woman's wrists and skipped across her hips until it tightly cupped her sex, accompanied further by the phrase, "You seem hot dear . . . are you feeling ill, or were you just that excited to have that beast between your legs?" <br><br>Her words were absolutely vicious, and she'd shown no signs of remorse for this treatment. <br><br>Despite Lorraine's hands looking thin and delicate, they were strong with sharp nails.&nbsp; Her breasts were scratched, pinched, and twisted in those so soft and cold hands.&nbsp; Her teats were pulled hard with a sharp twist that sent a sharp ache up her breast and along her shoulder.&nbsp; The hand between her thighs was no less brutal.&nbsp; The fingers prodded her through the crotch and Colette moaned, with pink cheeks.&nbsp; "Mistress, no, stop.&nbsp; You are hurting me!"<br><br>Her hair was yanked hard, and she yelped.&nbsp; Lorraine gave a sharp command to Nichole and the maid stepped forward.&nbsp; Colette cried out as the maid began undoing her jacket and undershirt.&nbsp; She twisted her upper body, but her bound wrists were seized by a firm grip by her mistress and then her jacket and shirt were peeled away, pushed back onto her arms and then Nichole began undoing her chemise to bare her pert breasts.&nbsp; Colette felt a tear roll down her cheek when she noticed the stable master watching with heat in his eyes, but he stood still at attention, not moving at all.<br><br>"Don't you dare to command me, dear," Lorraine said with a flicker of her tongue next to the vulnerable rider's ear. <br><br>A resounding snap and gesture once again brought Nicole into action, delivering to the mistress an item that looked not unlike the bridle of the horse being worked on just beyond Colette's field of vision. With deft hands, the Marquise quickly forced the bit between the exposed young woman's teeth, forcing her jaw to clench down on it by wrapping about her head the web of accompanying straps. <br><br>As the myriad buckles were pulled tight, Colette had no choice but to bight down on her new gag, silencing any intelligible speech she tried and instead, allowing her only the capacity for inhuman grunts and groans.<br><br>Lorraine again tweaked the Colette's nipples between the nails of her malicious fingers, using the painful pressure to steer the girl now again towards the horse so that she could finally get a good look at its new saddle. What it wore was unlike any garb for a horse the young French maiden had ever seen. <br><br>Where most saddles were smooth and rounded so as to provide comfort, this one was set in a sharp arch that would sit right between Colette's feminine hips. She would be forced to straddle the wicked edge, and the saddle bore other straps and attachments that would insure she stayed faithfully in place upon it. <br><br>Despite her protests, she was led to this implement of punishment and instruction, and Paul took her roughly by the shoulder to aid her in mounting it. The two servants then set to fastening the girl's legs into place while the Marquise herself attached leads to the front and back of her collar . . . leads which then joined the respective ends of the saddle to hold her in place atop it. <br><br>Finally, Lorraine said, "We learn best through pain, dear . . ." and with that, took the reigns from her position beside the horse and led it to the doors, which Nicole had already opened . . . they were going to take a nice trot over the fields . . . all for Colette's benefit. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Captive Lady of Lyon (Whiskey Jack/Aragem)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aragem</strong> on <strong>02-12-2009, 07:24:24</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Colette whined through the bit, it was thick forcing her mouth apart and it tucked hard against the corners of her lips.&nbsp; She felt the straps held very securely about her head, the buckles pressing against her jaws and temples.&nbsp; The air touched her breasts and her nipples harden into tight little teats, nearly standing out from the firm round globes of flesh.&nbsp; The tight leather at her wrists forced her to jut her chest out and the straps back her arch her back, as if showing off her lovely breasts for the world.<br><br>She had never felt this exposed before in her life.&nbsp; Her body had constantly had several layers of cloth between her and the open air.&nbsp; It was an alien and terrifying feeling, yet oddly liberating despite the circumstance.&nbsp; The hard mound of the saddled pressed painfully against her and bumped her hard each up and down motion of the trotting horse.&nbsp; She closed her eyes and whined hard, and felt a dribble of drool roll down her chin.&nbsp; <br><br>"This is what happens when women are too eager to spread their legs, Colette . . ." Lorraine's words were harsh and instructing, repeatedly driving home the intended lesson until her pupil understood it . . . intimately. " . . . we get hurt . . ." <br><br>She had the horse walk in circles, then wound it over the the most uneven parts of her field so that it would bounce the girl atop it as much as possible. Though she was fastened tightly to the saddle, she'd feel every jolt sharply as the edge of the wood pressed between the lips of her sex, rubbing painfully against her clot even through the thick riding pants.<br><br>"I'm afraid you only made it more difficult for yourself by talking back . . ."<br><br>She grunted each time her body was jolted onto the harsh nub.&nbsp; She whined and tears rolled down her cheeks.&nbsp; Her breasts bounced from jolt to jolt and she whined high, if she could speak, she would be showering Lorraine with pleas and apologies.&nbsp; She struggled, her legs flexing against the strap.&nbsp; She wanted off, even if she fell and broke every bone in her body, it would be better than this.&nbsp; <br><br>"Are you learning a lesson, dear?" asked the Marquise while only half paying attention to the girl who sat bound and gagged atop her prized palomino. "After last night, I thought you understood what your place here would be, but you've been a great disappointment this morning . . ." <br><br>They came to a halt momentarily, and while Lorraine's dark eyes locked with the pained young woman's, she thrust two fingers between the saddle and Colette's more than soar pussy, rubbing the soar nub of her clitoris with a cruel pleasure and impassive face. "Have you learned anything from this experience, Colette?" <br><br>The question was posed with an implicit willingness to wait for an answer, and Lorraine had no intention of letting her down until she had one. The gag was no excuse . . . <br><br>The fingers hurt and sent pain and thrills through her lower regions.&nbsp; She wriggled, trying to propel or even tilt herself off the saddled, but the straps were cruel in restraining her.&nbsp; She whined and trembled, she nodded her head, tears rolling free from her eyes and groaned as Lorraine twisted her fingers in a tender spot.&nbsp; <br><br>"I want to hear you say the words, dear . . . I need to know you want it?" <br><br>Colette's mouth was helplessly restrained. The large bit sat back between her jaw while a mesh of leather straps forced her to bite down on it, but Lorraine was unrelenting. She'd decided to humiliate the girl by forcing the unintelligible, embarrassing gibberish of gag-talking, and to drive home the point, she pulled sharply upwards with her two fingers, letting her nails scratch the maiden's crotch at its sorest point. <br><br>Colette squealed, and twisted.&nbsp; She clenched her body and then sputtered around the gag.&nbsp; What she said, "I understand, please stop hurting me!&nbsp; I'll be good!"&nbsp; Instead it came out in a sickeningly series of grunts and hisses and drooling.&nbsp; She whined as she felt saliva collect at the corner of her chin and dribble down onto her breast. <br><br>&nbsp;"Alright dear . . . I think you've had enough . . ." Lorraine turned the horse about so it was again facing back towards the stable, though they'd managed quite a distance since leaving it. <br><br>She removed her fingers slowly, letting them rub the girl on their way out, collecting her wetness before taking them and rubbing them off on Colette's exposed breast. "But we'll need to work on you language . . . a lady should always be understood." <br><br>As she spoke, she gave the horse a pat on its rear, sending it quickly trotting towards the far off stable, and letting her young ward bounce freely until the waiting Paul caught them and walked them inside.<br><br>By the time Lorraine had made her way back, the straps attaching Colette directly to the saddle had been undone, and the stable master was just starting on the leashes that had held her in place atop it. With a disinterested command, she told both him and Nicole, "Get the girl down and ready for her dinner . . . I have other matters to attend to before then . . ." <br><br>With that, she walked slowly out and back towards the manor, leaving her ward in the hands of the nervous maid and the gruff horse hand. Colette dropped to her knees, her hands pressed on her sore crotch.&nbsp; The pain was ebbing away since the source of it had been removed.&nbsp; It wasn't too long before she was able to stand without it aching.&nbsp; She curled her arms over her breasts and whined through the bit.&nbsp; She wanted Nicole to fetch her a blanket or a shirt, but she was still unable to speak with the cursed bit in her mouth.&nbsp; She tugged at the straps, but without a mirror or using both hands, it was next to impossible for her to remove it.<br><br>Paul roughly grabbed her wrists, snatching them away from fiddling with her face, before he turned to Nicole and with his usual, terse tone, "Wait outside girl . . ." <br><br>He didn't bother to explain further, and Nicole didn't want to ask. She'd never spent much time in the personal company of the horse man, but she knew that all the maids save Maggie were more than afraid of him, so though she paused to look at the struggling Colette, she exited quickly through the door that led towards the house, though she stopped just on the other side. <br><br>Once the pest had left the room, Paul forced the girl back against the closest stable wall, pressing himself against her unabashedly, the bulge in his pants already rubbing against her sore body. He kept her arms forced apart and against the wall so that she could do nothing to defend herself, and for a moment, his lips moved as if he would say something. Instead, they simply moved closer to her, kissing at her cheek and the exposed portion of her neck that was beyond the collar. <br><br>She shrieked behind the gag.&nbsp; She jerked her head away, nearly banging it on the wall.&nbsp; She kicked at his boots and legs, ignoring the ache in her crotch.&nbsp; Her heart pounded frantically as panic set in.&nbsp; This man was going to dishonor her here and now.&nbsp; She could smell the dirt on him and the straw.&nbsp; There was the musk of horses and she grimaced as he touched her hair with a large rough calloused hand.&nbsp; She attempted to cry out for help behind her gag, but soft panicked gurgles came out.<br><br>"Scream if you want . . ." Those were the only words he said as he forced both of Colette's hands above her head so that he could take them in one, rough mitt. The other groped its way down her curves, stopping at each point of interest to fondle her briefly before continuing towards the prize. <br><br>Eventually, he reached her belt buckle, and his, deftly undoing both of their pants in mere moments and letting his member press against her delicate parts through the thin veneer of her undergarments. His lips continued their escapades down her body, kissing their way between her exposed breasts so that the bristles of his beard scratched at the sweet flesh as he passed. Finally, after what seemed seemed like an eternity, he finished the previous statement, " . . . I want you to." <br><br>Colette was beautiful.&nbsp; Her breasts perfect and round, a tiny waist with a flat tummy, trim hips with met exquisitely with creamy thighs and long legs.&nbsp; Her years of being well protected and sheltered gave her a smooth scarless skin which was very pale from lack of sun and bathing in milk.&nbsp; She had a down of golden hair at the apex of her thighs and it trembled with glistening arousal from her pain and mistreatment now.&nbsp; <br><br>She stared down in terror at the throbbing member that was prodding her belly.&nbsp; She wasn't naive as most of Paris believes young ladies should be.&nbsp; She knew what it was for and where it was going to go.&nbsp; She wrenched around, twisting at the waist, trying to deny what was going to be done and was what being done to her now.&nbsp; <br><br>Paul stopped his attentions momentarily, pulling his head back so as to get a good look at Colette's frightened face before saying, "You're new, so I'll help you out . . ." <br><br>His strong arm pulled both of her wrists down before her collar, and with little difficulty, he took the leash and lashed it about them, fixing them at a cross right beneath her chin. It wasn't a perfect bond, but it would keep them out of his way as he crouched before the maiden. His black beard met momentarily with the shock of blond hair that covered her sex until his tongue darted out, testing the abused flesh teasingly. After a few experimental prodding, his lips moved in to surround her sensitive clot, sucking gently as his tongue made intermittent pecks at it, a practiced hand placing two fingers at her entrance ready to penetrate the girl and take her purity from her. <br><br>It was a sensation that both sicken her and astounded her.&nbsp; The alienness of a tongue touching her most private part, the part of her that ordained her a woman swarmed her mind that she was stunned for a full minute.&nbsp; Her breathes came in quick and deep , drawing longer and longer at the tongue stroked her inner folds.&nbsp; Her ankles flexed and her heart skipped beats.&nbsp; <br><br>She wriggled her hips, attempt to dislodge his mouth and then felt the fingers seeking out her inner most being.&nbsp; She whined, and then the fingers parted her outer folds and stroked into the canal.&nbsp; She arched her back, stomping a foot in an attempt to kick Paul in the knee.&nbsp; She heard him chuckle as the fingers pushed in, a barrier was bumped, but Paul drew out a bit and then forced upward.&nbsp; Colette's eyes widen and she wailed as her hymen was torn&nbsp; by the intruding digits.&nbsp; <br><br>She squealed high, screaming for help, but the plea was blocked by the metal shoved between her teeth.&nbsp; She twisted her hips again and Paul withdrew his fingers, and they were stained with a touch of blood.&nbsp; Colette felt dizzying and leaned heavily against the wall behind her and hoped that Paul was done with her.&nbsp; <br><br>The stable master removed his mouth from the poor girl, taking a moment to inspect his fingers before wiping them against the girls pants. A moment later, he'd stood, now looking Colette fully in the eyes once more. "Seems like I've opened you up . . ." <br><br>His voice came full of repugnant humor as he made light of the situation while his now very erect cock pressed against the young woman's stomach. He couldn't help but press himself against her a little more, just for the sensation of her squirming against him, but after a moment, he stopped, crouching slightly so that he could rub his tumescence against her sex before grabbing up her legs and hoisting her against the wall, plunging himself in with no forewarning to prepare Colette for being virtually thrust upon her first penis. <br><br>Colette shrieked so hard, her through felt raw.&nbsp; She kicked her legs, but her thighs were held in firm hands and she was bounced up and down upon the pole of his penis.&nbsp; Her back against the hard wall of wood and her face and chest against the hard barrel of is chest.&nbsp; She felt suffocated and that was needles to say of what was happening to her lower body.&nbsp; She embraced his penis like a too small glove.&nbsp; Her body clenched around him in her struggles and resistance.&nbsp; She wept into his chest as she was hefted up and down and intruder within was both hurting and yet was rubbing something within her that was making her gasp and her heart quicken. <br><br>Paul continued to thrust mercilessly into the poor girl, tirelessly taking his fill of her discomfort as he let her drop slightly, forcing his member further into her than she thought it could go before lifting her again to continue the process. Though he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, he eventually slowed, pressing the girl against the wall for support before he made his offer. "I'll take the gag out and let you off easy . . . but you have to be a good girl . . . understand?" <br><br>The fierce look behind his eyes made it clear that the consequences of any foul play would be worse than Colette could handle, and that if she wanted the pain of the intrusion to stop and her mouth released from its harsh captor, she'd have to play along . . . <br><br>She nodded.&nbsp; Her jaw was aching and drool was covering her chin.&nbsp; Maybe with the bit out, she could scream for help.&nbsp; She held still while he held her against him with one arm and the other undid the straps that held her bit in place.&nbsp; He remained inside her, his manhood filling her and her body shuddered when it moved an iota within her.&nbsp; <br><br>She nearly spat out the bit as it scraped her teeth being pulled out.&nbsp; She twisted her jaw, opening and closing her mouth to get the filling back to her jaws, then her hair was seized and her head was whipped around to Paul.&nbsp; He slammed his mouth against hers in a violent kiss.&nbsp; She squealed against her mouth, as his teeth scrapped hers and his tongue reached down into her mouth.<br><br>His beard scratched at her face, getting messy with the preponderance of drool that had been forced out of her during her punishment today as he continued to force his lips on hers. Outside, Nicole remained entranced by the sounds emanating from within, her hand instinctual reaching down beneath her skirt, only to be confounded by the chastity belt, held in place by several sturdy locks, that frustrated all her efforts to achieve release. Still, she moaned in envy of the horrid fate Colette was suffering . . . <br><br>Inside, Paul finally relented, lifting the girl bodily from him and allowing their lips to part, but before Colette even had the time to think about calling for help, she'd been deposited kneeling on the floor, and the fingers still twining through her hair gave a quick, sharp yank the instruction was clear, as Paul's cock, wet with Colette's own juices, presented itself before the young woman's mouth. Should she try anything unwanted, there was the very real risk he'd simply shove it in . . . <br><br>She grimaced at it, posted an inch away from her pink lips.&nbsp; She closed her eyes and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.&nbsp; She felt the head brush her lips and her hair pulled hard.&nbsp; She opened her mouth and it was shoved past her lips and teeth and across her tongue.&nbsp; She gagged as it met the back of her throat and stayed there for a heartbeat and then pulled back.&nbsp; She couched&nbsp; against it, the tip halted at her lips and then he pushed forward.&nbsp; She coughed and sputtered the next several thrusts into her sweet mouth, then she was prepared.&nbsp; <br><br>She kept her mouth opened and gasped for breath when he drew out and then forward.&nbsp; He kept push to the back of her throat and holding it there for a moment then drawing out.&nbsp; She panicked when he began to hold it there longer and longer.&nbsp; Two heartbeats then three heartbeats.&nbsp; Her eyes watered as he held it there at back the back of throat and stayed there.&nbsp; <br><br>She stared up at him with wide blue eyes, and his eyes gleamed at her coldly.&nbsp; Then he yanked he head back when she believed she would vomit.&nbsp; She panted, her hair in her face and her lips bruised and of the corner of her eye, she could see the erection posed near her, ready for more intrusion of her body <br><br>After roughly throat fucking her, Paul paused to regain his composure, before finally speaking again after so much silence on his part. His hand still entwined in her hair, he said coldly, "If you're good . . . I won't make you swallow . . ." He was making it clear that her cooperation would be rewarded . . . if only in a small way, but his harsh grip made it clear that, should she choose not to play along, there were always other options . . . <br><br>Colette panted, and swallowed.&nbsp; Ah, the gift of swallowing instead of allowing it to dribble out of your mouth.&nbsp; She closed her eyes and shuddered.&nbsp; "Swallow what?"&nbsp; She wanted to go home to her mother.&nbsp; She wanted to go home and in her own bed, roll up in the blankets and forget this horrible man and the woman which forced her to train in horseback riding.&nbsp; "Please, stop this. . . ."<br><br>"My seed." The words came like a punch to the gut, heavy and poignant . . . full to the brim with meaning that even Colette could understand. Paul wouldn't let her get away . . . wouldn't let her daze off or avoid the reality, so with a sharp jerking motion, he jarred her from her wishes and forced her attention back to him before saying, "You know what mistress would say . . . good girls finish what they start . . . "<br><br>She gritted her teeth.&nbsp; She didn't start this, he did.&nbsp; But she didn't dare point this out to him.&nbsp; She lifted her chin and inhaled deeply and forced herself to think.&nbsp; She couldn't run.&nbsp; She couldn't scream for help because he could choke her on thing.&nbsp; She stared at it.&nbsp; It was thick and veiny and she swore that it was throbbing before her eyes.&nbsp; "What. . . .what do you want me to do. . . . ?”<br><br>Eventually, the girl's reluctance began to grate on him, until his patience was worn away. As she sat there, her face mere inches from his manhood, he took himself in hand and began to stroke, forcing her to watch as he prepared to release. As he continued, the motions became more rapid, until, at their peak, his pelvis shift back slightly as every muscle from his knees to his abdomen contracted, finally springing back forward as his cock released its seed in a sticky spray all over Colette's face . . . .<br><br>&nbsp;Looking satisfied at the picture of the girl, slumped their on the ground with her arms bound beneath her chin and his sperm clinging to her skin, Paul turned from her, walking from the stall they'd found themselves in to button his trousers and knock on the door through which Nicole had<br>
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