Memory of the Mistress [NCIJade and Marguerite]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: NCIJade on 06-04-2010, 06:02:10</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Memory of the Mistress [NCIJade and Marguerite]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NCIJade</strong> on <strong>06-04-2010, 06:02:10</strong>
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				It had been some months since Drake had visited Marguerite's Bordello, and had it been merely a good experience, that likely would not be anything worth remembering. But it had been an incredible experience, and impossible <em>not</em> to remember. But the months following his memorable visit had not afforded him the chance to return. His antique shop had been doing well - very well, in fact; alas, Drake found his pockets lined with much more money than time, and had not the luxury of making a return trip to see the Mistress of the Bordello, to enjoy her company once again. <br><br>Indeed, this weekend would be the first he had free in recent memory, and even then he had engagements which required his presence, though not pressing ones. A masquerade, in fact. Drake was quite a social man, enjoying the finer things in life and the company of those who felt similarly. The masquerade had been something marked off on his calendar for some months; he dared not miss it. Briefly he toyed with the idea of skipping it altogether, and instead returning to the welcoming arms of the Bordello, but no. He had agreed to go long ago, and would not back out now, especially now that his suit (http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tntL7SVBIe8/R_ks18zRUHI/AAAAAAAAA_c/6pQREReYvQ4/s400/armani.png) had been fitted, hemmed, and was nice and crisp, waiting and even begging to be worn. The mask (http://www.venicemaskedball.co.uk/ekmps/shops/maskedball/images/dscf7024(3).jpg) was simple, elegant, and eye-catching, without being over-stated. He had decided to round off the outfit with a venetian cape (http://www.venicemaskedball.co.uk/ekmps/shops/maskedball/images/dscf7106(1).jpg), to add a bit of flair. <br><br>Drake couldn't help but smile as he got dressed, striking quite a dashing figure, if he did say so himself. A rapier on his hip would've completed the outfit expertly, but he decided that arming himself was rather unwise. As he checked himself over one final time, he found himself wondering what kind of people he would meet at the ball. Part of the fun of the masquerade was the hidden faces. People there could and would indulge in many things they might not otherwise, relishing in the anonymity of the costumes. It was entirely likely that he would meet criminals, drug addicts, political figures, and perhaps even common whores during the evening, but behind the mask, none of that mattered. All were equal, and all were there to share and enjoy the festivities together. A smirk curled his lips as he wondered whether he would meet anyone there who might tempt him to remove his mask, and reveal his true self, or whether he would meet someone whose true self he would desire to know. <br><br>Those rich, mahogany colored eyes passed over his own form in the mirror once or twice more, a hand reaching up to tuck a few stray strands of hair into place, before Drake finally decided he was satisfied with his appearance. He strode confidently out of his room and down the stairs of his richly-furnished home, to the car waiting outside. After a lengthy but leisurely journey, the car pulled up in front of a large Victorian manor (http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/17/6b/91/victorian-manor-house.jpg) with a spacious, luxurious backyard, the central location for the ball. Already there were many guests mingling within the ancient but pristine walls of the home, and Drake smiled as he situated his mask before stepping out of the car. He tipped the chauffeur generously and then proceeded along the pathway up towards the manor, pausing briefly to check in with the concierge. He leaned into the man and uttered his name in a low voice, and after perusing his lists, the man nodded and waved Drake inside. Every effort was taken to conceal the identities of the party-goers; should they decide to reveal themselves, it would be of their own choice, not by accident. He walked slowly past the iron gates and into the courtyard, smiling as he looked around at the ongoing party within. "<em>This should be a lovely afternoon...</em>" he thought to himself. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Memory of the Mistress [NCIJade and Marguerite]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>09-04-2010, 08:44:56</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Many months had passed since Drake had come around to her Bordello. She would admit there were a few moments when her mind was quiet, the business closed for the night and her mind relaxed, did Marguerite think about Drake. Her thoughts ran as to whether he was doing well and whether his legs were still as firm from the exercise of canoeing. What? She barely knew the man outside of the fact he wanted to be placed with a woman who would not be meek nor lay back while he humped away at her. A smile played upon her lips at the session but after he dressed and left, Marguerite never heard from him again. She doubted the two ran in the same circles unless he frequented Bordello as his past time. <br><br>Now, Marguerite had to focus her mind on the events happening before her tonight. She was hired to be a 'girlfriend' for the mayor who had plans of running for the second time to keep his position as Mayor. If only the public knew the kinks the man held but also the corruption he had, well, no voter would want to re-elect him back into office. Nonetheless, those secrets were not to be revealed by her lips. She was playing the part of a girlfriend who was going to bask in his attention, all the while making his friends envious and fantasize how the Mayor was going to fuck her against the wall later. All of this 'girlfriend' handling while at a masquerade held every year to honor a few people who donated a lot of money to charities to be given recognition. Marguerite had yet to give money to charities here in the city but out in cities that needed it the most with her money. <br><br>Besides the Masquerade aided in finding new clients for the Bordello. While the Mayor was not looking, Marguerite slipped a few discreet business cards to passing individuals. She hid the cards in her red v-neck dress and even some in her patent pumps (http://www.onlygowns.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/herve-leger-deep-v-neck-dress.jpg). Marguerite did not want to make it obvious and reach into her pumps to remove a card to hand it over to a potential client. The Bordello was doing well with the fleet of clients wanting to fulfill their fantasies. She and her employees were there to service a commodity that had been as long as Adam and Even. Hell, she even liked to joke Eve whored herself out after the two were kicked from the Garden of Eden to make ends meet. For her, she put herself as the woman who was giving the people the desire and wanton lust each craved but were afraid to reveal with anyone who could shame or reject them. <br><br>Just like the gold mask (http://www.maskitalia.com/assets/images/masks/fulls/cv010c.jpg), she wore around her face, the clients who came to her each wore a mask but removed it in her Bordello. In the Bordello, one could remove the mask of having to hide such erotic and dark desires to be taken and shaped into reality. She enjoyed the clients who were nervous and shaking as if they were going to be laughed at for their desires. Marguerite had a client who wanted to fuck farm animals but could not bring the temptation to fold. Instead, he wanted to fuck women and ask them to make animal sounds. His last girlfriend told everyone about his desire and he immediately changed towns to get away from the embarrassment. For that, Marguerite had no shame in pretending she was a sheep or a horse with the neighing and bawwing like a sheep being fucked by an imaginary farmer. By the end, he became a regular client until he had to move again for business reasons. He still came around so often when he was able to spare the time and money.<br><br>"Oh, very funny, darling,' she whispered, bringing herself back to the present and laughing at whatever the Mayor joked about. She threw her head back, her hair having dyed it red and laughed as if he was the best joke teller in the world. In fact, he was horrible with jokes but everyone around him knew to laugh at his dull jokes. It was the way to kiss ass and to keep their jobs. Leaning over to kiss his cheek, Marguerite excused herself to go to the ladies' room to powder her nose. Luckily, no one around here was going to notice her identity as a Bordello Mistress or if they did, they would likely keep their traps shut. Never a dull day in her life. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Memory of the Mistress [NCIJade and Marguerite]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>NCIJade</strong> on <strong>12-04-2010, 01:06:10</strong>
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				Drake was not a particularly prominent figure in the city, but neither was he an unknown. His shop sold many exotic and exciting antiques, many of which carried with them a rather hefty price tag, and so many of his clientele were rather wealthy. They, in turn, lined his pockets and allowed him to live quite a comfortable life. He was not at all a shut-in, but not quite as active in social circles as he wished he could be. Still, he had many friends with whom he ran on occasion, many of whom were well-known and respected people in the city. Of course, none of that mattered here, with the masks and costumes hiding everyone's identity. He was sure some of the masked party-goes were clients or even friends of his, but it didn't matter; at the masquerade, everyone was friends with everyone. <br><br>Making his way around the party, Drake found small pockets of guests with whom he mingled and chatted with, making small, idle chit-chat and generally enjoying himself. He let himself flirt openly with a few of the ladies, bowing deep to kiss their hands, or making ambiguously forward comments about their attire. It was quite easy to slip into the persona of a charismatic, confident ladies' man with the mask covering his identity, and wearing the suit he was didn't hurt, either. While generally he would not necessarily be the type to woo the women in such a way, he by no means had any trouble walking right up to a pretty woman and talking the night away with her. Actually, he was quite successful with the fairer sex, but with the increasing demands on his time that his antique shop made, he'd found himself with less and less time to enjoy life's other pleasures, such as his canoeing, let alone the time necessary for a girlfriend. <br><br>As such, Drake had come to the party alone, a fact which neither thrilled nor bothered him. Not having a beautiful woman on his arm did not slow him down or dampen his mood in the slightest. Indeed, if anything it made him more eager to mingle, to hear the gossips and the stories, the tall and small tales, the general goings-on of the city's elite population. Ever the businessman, Drake always kept an ear turned to conversations which were not his own, lest a wayward comment drop by about a desire for some unique piece of furniture, or perhaps the inheritance of such an item. But he didn't dwell too much on such drab and trivial things; this was a party, after all, and he sought to enjoy it fully. It may have been a much more pleasant afternoon had he someone to enjoy it with, as even though many people there might have been friends of his, he had come alone, so it was impossible to tell one person from the next. There was only one exception, one person at the entire affair who's identity was not a mystery, and as Drake turned from a table with drink in hand, he caught sight of the very man himself. <br><br>Everyone at the party knew which guest was the Mayor, and every last one of them wasted no time in schmoozing with him, making small talk and laughing at his dreadful attempts at humor. Drake was not particularly keen on doing the same, but even though the Mayor would never know who he was, he still felt it better not to be the one guest at the party who conspicuously avoided talking to the man. Setting aside his reservations, he put on the best smile he could muster and made his way across the courtyard toward the Mayor. As he approached, Drake couldn't help but notice the lovely woman hanging on his arm. She was, no doubt, receiving compensation for spending her afternoon doting on him, but as he looked her over, he decided he couldn't rightly blame the Mayor for hiring her. Her figure was exquisite, and her attire only accentuated every curve, made her seem that much more sensual and indeed, desirable. It was a struggle to fight the urge to stare. <br><br>As he neared, he heard the woman's laughter at one of the Mayor's jokes, and froze. Her voice rang in his ears and lingered as he stood there in disbelief. "<em>Surely, it couldn't be...</em>" he thought to himself, his gaze following after her as she excused herself and disappeared into the crowd. Long after she had become lost in the sea of people, he looked on, striving to recall the memories of Marguerite, the Mistress of the Bordello, trying to recall her laughter, her voice, her figure. He was nearly certain it was her, as difficult as it was to believe. All these months, and now here she was, at the same party with him. Drake decided to keep an eye on the couple, to linger nearby... he had to confirm his suspicions, or it would eat at him for months more. Putting those thoughts aside, he stapled another disingenuous smile onto his lips and approached the Mayor with an outstretched hand.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Memory of the Mistress [NCIJade and Marguerite]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>01-05-2010, 04:50:11</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Marguerite took the opportunity of powdering her nose to take a few deep breaths and to keep the facade of being the mayor's girlfriend steady. After tonight, she was going to decline any future offers from the Mayor. The Mayor had broken the one rule she told him not to do at the Masquerade and it was to whisper to his 'friends' that his girlfriend was willing to be shared later tonight as if she was a bottle of wine. Marguerite was not a gutter whore who had to put up with a client because she wanted her next fix, make money to survive or try to forget any bad memories by fucking various men and women to do so. This was not about forgetting bad boyfriend memories or trying to fuck away any horrible childhood. This was her business, her choice in pursuing the sins of the flesh because not only did it make her elated but it also brought the kinds of pleasure men and women would be too afraid to reveal to their partners. <br><br>However, to hear the Mayor denounce her 'girlfriend' role and promise his friends everyone could have a piece of her broke a fundamental rule. She was not someone's property and no one ruled over her but Marguerite herself. For the Mayor to forget who she truly was, well, the Mayor was going to know his place. Marguerite was not a woman to be trifled with and while she was Mistress of a Bordello, her hands could pick up a phone call and bring in a few people. She was not going to blackmail the Mayor for he could as easily try to oust her. Instead, she was going to call in the security in case the son of a bitch tried to come into her Bordello once she threw him out for good. A few banned clients made the mistake of returning after showing them the door. The last one got her boot up their ass, literally, since she had to buy a new pair after shoving the boot into his ass and had a personnel throw him onto the curb. Marguerite only hoped it did not come to losing another pair of shoes for all of her shoes were far too beautiful to use it against the Mayor.<br><br>Such thoughts were in her head as she entered into the ladies' room. Apparently, a slew of other women needed to touch up their noses or had small bladders. "Did you see that man in the mask? He could have brought a sword and looked like Zorro or Casanova," the sigh of pleasure on the woman's face told Marguerite all she needed to know. She had seen that look plenty of times on the clients. The content expression knowing their kinks were going to be fulfilled or the orgasm that had given them the lethargic feel to their bones. The expression of an apple a day keeps the doctor away; well, an orgasm a day keeps the frigidness away. The people she saw in her Bordello were frigid and not like a frigid bitch but were afraid to whisper their kinks let alone act it out even in a closed setting. Never did she ask their true names nor anything beyond what flavored condoms or dental dams to put on each. It was their lives to lead and she was there to help in a small way.<br><br>Only when she was done with using the bathroom, did she hear more about this Zorro-like male. "Yes, his name is Drake from what others have told me..." The name made her stop washing her hands for a few seconds and ponder over the name. Was he the same Drake she serviced a few months ago? No, the name was common and could have been a fake name. With the way the industry of sex was going, it was prudent to be private. Hell, after the whole new series of Diary of a London Call Girl on Showtime, she had to be careful to keep people from trying to find out the 'truth' of being a sex worker. She was a god damn professional and was not going to let any body ruin her business to sell a few newspapers. Being 'girlfriend' to the Mayor was going to bring the kind of attention she did not want, especially if reporters got wind of his need to pay for service girls. Marguerite was not the first but she hoped not to be added to a roster of 'gold diggers' if anyone wanted to sell their story of sleeping with the Mayor.<br><br>Fixing her lipstick and her mask, she let the women talk about the various men here at the Masquerade. Before leaving, she placed a few cards for her Bordello down on each of the sink along with the table where one could pick up mints. Some of these women could be in need of the services of the Bordello considering the way the women talked about being taken by the men or taking them against any surface. She smiled at the thought and went on her merry way, glancing around to make sure she was heading in the right direction. It was time to get back into the role of loving girlfriend to the Mayor. After tonight, she planned never to see the son of a bitch again. Already, she was getting a headache and her feet were hurting from the cards hidden inside poking at her toes. <br><br>"Hello, honey, sorry to keep you busy with all of your friends," she said in a loud whisper for the other men to hear. She placed her arm inside of his own, looking over to the rest of the crowd. Each looked to be about the Mayor's age except for a few. There was one who she noticed and it was because of the fact he looked younger than the rest. Trying to kiss ass to get an internship with the Mayor? She felt sorry but not too sorry if this male was trying to keep company with a man like the Mayor. 
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