The Tender Muse's Portrait

[Vailyn]

Allora's hands pulled the shawl tighter as a flush of pleasure spread across her freckled cheeks and down her chest. Nicholas looked quite energetic and happy to see her. She wondered if he was happy because of her or because he was a happy man in general...

Waving a hand at the basket she carried, Allora stopped a few feet away from Nicholas "I had the cook make a basket of food, wine and dessert for us. I thought we may need refreshments. I wasn't sure how long you would be working... I hope you like cheese and tarts and--" Allora's dropped her eyes as shyness overtook her usual calm. She sighed as her blush became a darker red. "I am babbling nonsense again. I do not know why I babble so in your presence."

She placed the basket down near the table. Peered through her dark lashes at Nicholas and hoped he did not think of her as a silly child. "Sir de la Fuentes, what shall I do? Shall I lay upon the grass?"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He tilted his head, listening to her and letting himself get enchanted by her words and eagerness. His mind started running over the right colors, the right shading, the right brush to capture this girl adequately.

“Right,” he said getting right to it. “Start like you did yesterday, closer to the rock. I look to close the space between you and the the other items, make you a grander part of this painting.”

Moving with her to the spot. “I want your arms, like they were yesterday, pulled up above you. But make sure it is comfortable. I will start with the background and such, so if you don’t feel right let me know.”

As she got into her position, he moved to the easel. With a kidding smile he continued, “and feel free to babble nonsense anytime, your Ladyship. If it makes you feel comfortable, than I am sure to get you the way your father hopes I do.”

He lifts a pencil to begin the outline, then stops saying without laying eyes on her. “And … I will need you to … move your feet further apart, creating more space.”

 

[Vailyn]

Allora listened carefully to Nicholas' instructions and tried to envision the pose. Her lips quirked into a small smile as a vision of a puppy playing dead entered her mind. "I fear I shall look like a sad puppy wallowing in the grass for a tidbit of affection."

The shawl fell to the ground as she tried to hold down the skirt of the dress with her hands as she sat down. She laid her head down on the crook of her bent arm and raised the other to fall in a loose crescent about her head. Her golden brown hair lay fanned out below her like a silken carpet. Unbeknownst to Allora, the pose bared her neck in a long line that drew the eye to hover over her delicate collar bones and climb up the soft slopes of twin mounds. The sheer flower lace of the pale pink chemise failed to hide the peaks. The material seemed to only entice the viewer to look closer. The satin cincher made Allora's waist look impossibly tiny in comparison to the flare of the dress skirt below. The light material of the dress clung to the maiden's form. Spreading her legs apart a bit revealed the matching slippers and trim ankles.

"Sir, is this a common pose? I feel somewhat odd to be in such a position... Do you paint at night? My maid had mentioned that she may ask you to draw her at night. Would it not be more difficult to do such work in the night time?"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Leaning from the easel his eyes first caught her breasts. They were perfectly rounded up against the nearly see thru chemise. He could see the lift of the nipple through the fabric. He could see the shading of her aureola just lightly coloring the fabric. Every detail of the curve was present, and the added coloration just on the limits of exposure still left the creative ideas of what could be there to thoughts.

He felt his mouth dry, and reached to the snack basket pulling out a bottle of wine and opening it quickly. “I hope you don’t mind, but,” he quickly took a swig straight from the bottle and offered it her way without looking just setting it in the grass.

The background came together quickly with a heavy brush and lots of green for the grass. He tried to not think of the woman nearly baring herself in front of him.

Instead, he set forth trying to go over those questions as quickly as he could. “The pose is by consultation from your father. I paint when I am able too, and if there be light I can see what I paint. Day or night.” He worked frantically trying to get the edge work done, including the pond, the rocks, the brush.

“It is a nice poise you have, and will be absolutely brilliant when the painting is complete, just be calm and …” He stopped and thought of the one comment she made. Leaning around the easel he looked at the deep blue-green eyes and flow of hair surrounding her face. “Did you say … your maid? Was it the one with the red hair?”

 

[Vailyn]

"Hmmm? Red hair?" Allora blinked lazily. "Oh! Jane! She is my maid and she does have bright red hair. I wish I had her hair coloring. For mine is a rather dull, is it not? Simple, plain Allora who loves to read books that aren't suitable for young ladies." Her voice grew softer with each word until it trailed off into silence. Time passed slowly and her senses drew Allora's attention to the world in unlikely ways.

The sunlight felt like a warm, weightless embrace that grew steadily heated. She felt bare beneath it's rays. The new clothes that she was required to wear at the castle felt alien. They were much lighter than anything she has worn at the Abbey. Much more elaborate with ribbons, lace, pearls, silk and velvet trims. She missed her heavy cotton dresses, sturdy petticoats and woolen stockings. The violet dress felt more revealing than anything else she has ever worn. It seemed as though she lay exposed to the world.

Gradually, the ground surrendered the night time chill to the patient day. She could hear the faint rustle and crunch of the vibrant green grass when she moved. An orchestra of insects buzzed, the whistling thrills of birds calling, low splashing wet plops of the water teasing the land, the rustle of leaves and branches dancing in the breeze.

She could hear the steady beat of her heart and feel it as it pumped her life's blood. Stray strands of her hair tickled her skin playfully. The slow trickle of her sweat forming between her breasts and below her belly. She didn't know that the sound of breathing could be so loud.

Allora's gaze kept returning to the artisan over and over again. Watched him select paints and decisively brush over the canvas. He furrowed his brows at times and his pacing would slow for a while before picking up to the usual tempo. Splats, smudges and more landed everywhere! He even had a smudge on his cheek from when he tapped it thoughtfully. She recognized the look of absolute concentration on his face. It's the same look she's seen on the master script calligraphers, the sisters in prayer and the way Sister Mary would look when she took care of those dangerously ill. She wondered if she ever looked like that...

The need to quench her thirst became too strong to ignore any longer. She asked Nicholas if she may move to drink and he said that she may as long as she remembers to lay back down in the same. Making a noise of agreement, Allora pushed up to sit with the arm she had been laying on. Her body ached a bit from staying still for so long. She absently moved her hands over her arms and legs to ease it.

Thirsty, she took several long draws of the wine. It burned a bit as she swallowed and heated up her empty stomach in a pleasant manner. Allora wasn't sure if she really enjoyed the bittersweet flavor. She's more accustomed to drinking water and tea. She drank until she eased her thirst and felt oddly full. She carefully placed the bottle back. Before laying back down, she stretched her body by reaching towards the sky with her arms and arching her back with a loud, pleased, "Mmmmmmmmmhmm!"

A bit fuzzy from the wine, Allora had to take care to lay back down on her arm and stretching the other in a curve over her head. She didn't realize that the violet dress had moved during her stretches and the end skimmed below her knees. Most of her calves, trim ankles and slippers were bare to the eye.

Nestling her head sleepily into her arm, Allora began to feel too hot and heated. The touch of the sun's rays felt strong and she wanted to chase the feeling away with her hands. Her body felt light and weighted at the same time. It felt as though she was floating and yet moored to the ground by the sun. Oddly restless, Allora started to talk and ask Nicholas questions as they rolled off her tongue. Not realizing that her voice has become husky from the buzz of wine and that the questions may not be proper to ask a man.

"Did you know that you have paint on your cheek? I wonder what your hair feels like? Mine is very soft but it never stays the way I arrange it. I wish I had vibrant red hair like Jane. Jane's very nice! She is bright and cheerful and talks to everyone! She said she hoped you would sketch her likeness. Wait... She said she wanted a night with you. Yes! That was it! She said something about the ways between a man and woman. What's the ways between a man and woman? Do you suppose my husband to be will tell me? I am not sure how it all goes about... Likelikelike babes! What does a babe have to do with a man and woman laying together? It does not make any bit of sense! Then again, Jane said the man's bit that does matter? Well, she said that you are more than pleasing. I'm not sure what she means by it all. Mayhaps she means your eyes. Your eyes are pleasing. I like your hands. They look very strong. The way your hands move as you work. What's it like doing what you love? You do love painting, do you not? I do not have anything I love as much. Or, at least, I do not think I do. I wish I knew what I am meant to be! Mother Superior said that my path did not lie within the church. She said I was not meant to be a Bride of God. But it was all I ever knew. Now I am to be a wife but I do not know what that means at all. I fear I do not know much of anything at all..."

Her voice trailed off into silence as she became pensive from her babble of words. Allora didn't realize that she had moved to be more comfortable during her lengthy monologue. She moved to lay on her side, tucked the free arm beneath to cradle her chest, pulled up one leg towards her stomach and the other leg lay angled straight behind her. The flowered lace grazed the base of her soft nipples and one slender leg lay uncovered beneath the sun, clad only in sheer silk stocking and slipper.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Nicholas remained bent, watching her as she begun about the maid. The red headed lass got an eyeful the night before, and he worried she told her lady about his indiscretion, or worse scared the poor girl out of her innocent nature. As Allora began chatting about her own hair, he started to feel comfortable again that the girl kept her mouth quiet. It maybe the wine controlling his thoughts, but the issue maybe something he would need to address with the maid, if necessary all night long.

He sat back on the stool, closed his eyes, and took a long slow breath in. He felt his body relax, and his thoughts clear. In his mind, he could feel the colors of the world start to pull forth from the edges of his consciousness, swirl about like a grand dance hall, then come together to pour out towards the definitions of life. When he was focused, he opened his eyes and looked to the girl.

There, laid out in front of him, was the woman surrendering to morning’s sun. The light of it washed over the delicate curls of her hair, creating reddish accents against a sea of gold. The warmth created a glow to her face, drawing forth a greater number of freckles dancing across her cheeks and over her nose. He felt the desire to trace that path of freckles across her cheeks and down her neck, but the sun had moved before him and more stunningly. Her chest, small and elegant, stood out in the daylight through her chemise. He could see detail of her areola, the lift of her small nipple, maybe even the hint of a freckle underneath the thin fabric. The clothing gave a suggestion of concealment, but it was just a suggestion. It was as if this morning’s sun had brought her to this garden to pull off her dress with every intention of taking her as his own.

When she asked for a drink of the wine, he felt his mind shake back to consciousness. Somehow, while getting lost in her beauty, he had painted her face and chest with stunning accuracy. He had known times when he became so wrapped up in a subject that he didn’t notice a few strokes or lines, but lost in Allora he half-finished the portrait of her.

In the painting, he presented her body, arms over her head just as she poised. Her chemise was as thin and as see-thru as the real material she wore. What enchanted him of his work was her face. He painted her with her head rolled back, as if starting towards something away from the painter. From that position, she wouldn’t be able to see him staring at her, but that smile, that half innocent, half playful smile. It was like she was saying to him, “you are welcome to look.”

When she lay back in the grass, he felt the heat of the sun start to affect him as well. He unbuttoned his shirt halfway down, and started to regret the choice of wool slacks over something far looser.

When she started to speak, a long monolog about questions about things of an intimate nature, she began to leave her pose making continuing impossible until she moved back. Yet he was entranced by her words. Never had he met someone so alluring, yet so incredibly naïve. Then she mentioned how Jane talked about a ‘man’s bit’, worrying him now of what Jane says to others. As Allora continued, he kept watching her. She found his eyes pleasing, his hands strong.

The way she laid there, the way she talked, the way she acted; it was clear she was right above all else, that she didn’t know what it means to be a wife. He felt pitty for her at that moment, because the one thing that was obvious was that she would be a treasure to spend a night under the covers with. She is like someone who owns a race horse, but doesn’t know how to ride it.

When she slowly trailed off, he noticed he was leaning around the easel, focused only on her. He was realizing the other reason he regretted such tight wool pants as well, and he tried to shift himself accordingly.

He sat up and tried to hide himself, even if it is only his face) behind the canvas, and worked on the scenery around her. “Well,” he said, speaking for the first time in hours. “It would be inappropriate for me to share with you what you should know about being a wife. That is, for most one would be given help by their parents, like my father did. If not for a lady like yourself, it’s the husband’s duty to show you what it means to pleasure your husband.” He talked frustrated, taking poor swipes at grasses and rocks. “True especially for one such as yourself, as I am sure you have the duty of birthing an heir, not just to get lost in the other joys of copulation.”

Tossing the brush into a glass of cleaner he huffed, “shall we take a break for our lunch?”

 

[Vailyn]

Humor touched Allora's languid blue-green eyes as she curled her arms beneath her head as she lay on her side. "If the Master Artist insists, how can I refuse? Is it time to eat already? I feel so very warm and full from the wine."

She sat up too fast and her head spun in a wild twirl of colors, shapes, scents and sounds. She fell back on the ground in a careless sprawl. Her golden brown curls spun in impish abandon beneath her. Laughter spilled out in a rippling peal of amusement as she embraced her spinning senses. She spread her arms wide like wings and arched her back as if she could leap into the twirling dance of her senses. The move caught the fanciful chemise in the waist cincher and her firm, youthful globes were bared to the light. The flower lace only a decorative border below her attentive rosy brown tips.

"How does this happen? I feel like I'm dancing in wild circles though I lay here on the ground! My head and heart feel light as air and the colors of the world spin together like I have not seen before!"

Allora giggled softly as she carefully sat up and her hair fell over her shoulder to cover her front. She awkwardly scooted to the basket of food and started to pull items of food out. "We have roast beef sandwiches, pieces of chicken, cheese, fruit tarts, apples, berries and several bottles of wine. I think I shall be unconventional and start with dessert! I love the cook's berry tarts!"

She happily grabbed a tart and handful of berries and settled herself to sit near the basket with her legs bent sideways beneath her violet dress, torso slightly twisted as one arm held her up and the other put food in her pouty lips. The drape of tangled locks and the redistribution of the chemise lace once more covered the ripe young bosom from sight--well, partially from sight.

After devouring the tart with unabashed moans of pleasure, Allora licked spilled fruit fillings from her fingers and grabbed the wine to quench her thirst. Her berry stained lips puckered at the initial tart, dry taste of wine. She drew several long droughts from the bottle before putting it back down by Nicholas. She tilted her head towards the artist, feeling utterly at ease beneath the hot sun's rays and belly full of sugar and wine.

"Master Artist, sir, what are the joys of copulation?" She frowned for a moment. "My mother has passed away and my Lord father is kin to a stranger. I fear all of those I love and care for are at the Abbey. Though!" She smiled brilliantly at Nicholas with shining blue-green eyes. "I feel I am making new friendships here at the Blackwood estates. Like you and Jane and the kennel master and cook and even the gardener--though he likes to scold me about gardening too much. He says it's not very ladylike. I wish I knew what being a lady was..."

She blew at a lock of hair that fell over her face and laughed as it wafted back down. "All this talk about marriage and birthing a heir. I mean what can be so hard about it? A husband goes to bed with his wife and a babe is born. Maybe they hold hands? A kiss goodnight and then the Lord above blesses the union with a child. Yes? OH! That uhm... what did I? Oh, yes! You said joys of copulation... what are they?"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

A girl he knew once told Nicholas: “When it starts to rain, you can either run to get out of it, or dance in it. Either way, you are likely to get just as wet, but one is more fun than the other.”

Once the lady rose up from her pose and began to spin around their secret hiding place, he grew concerned for her well being. It was clear that the help’s choice of wine for lunch was bold, and this girl likely only let the drink brush her lips during communion. When, the supple orbs barely hidden for most the morning came out in the flourish he felt the need to stand and fix the top; possibly even ending the day and taking the drunk girl back to her bed.

Yet her breasts were even more beautiful when revealed to him. They were firmly curved, small but supple, and capped with something as beautiful and delicious looking like the top of a cake. Her curves were enhanced by a sea of freckles covering her breasts like looking at the reverse of a dark star-filled night.

He should have had her cover up. He should have ran out of the rain. Instead he chose to dance in it.

He sat next to the half naked woman, propping himself like she did, with his legs bent as well. He’d rather lay back in the soft grass, but needed to eat. He rather cross his legs, but the pants were too tight around his hips to give him much comfort like that. Still, leaning like this offered him a view of the hungry girl now ravishing the fruit and tarts.

This view was greater than any erotic dance he had ever seen, better than any sinful painting ever shown. Here was the model of innocence, the shape of pure beauty, and the essence of transition from girl to woman. Here she was bared to him. Here she was lost, although brought about by sweets, still lost in pleasure. If she only knew how close she was to being in physical pleasure, or more directly his physical pleasure, she likely would not allow her to be like this.

Luckily she didn’t know.

"Master Artist, sir, what are the joys of copulation?"

As the question continued, he wondered how best to answer it, what she might think of him for knowing all the details, and what would become of this job if her father found out this topic of discussion. ‘Dance in the rain,’ he told himself. So he closed his eyes, lifted the bottle to his lips, and began proceeding slowly.

“In many ways, your Ladyship, the Lord chose to make all of his creatures similar. If you think like a flower, the best plants grow when pollen from one flower is given to another. The flower is colorful makes itself nectar that draws a bee to it, since the bee loves the nectar and loves such color. As it takes the nectar, the bee will deposit pollen from another flower which allows the flower to create new flowers. 
“He created men and women quite similarly, but in our own ways. Instead of pollen, a man will create seed. To make a child, a woman will take the seed of a man inside her body. We do this with the parts of our bodies that make men and women different.

“The JOY is that this act, copulating, it is … well, to be blunt your Ladyship, very pleasurable.”

He looked to the half naked woman, searching her eyes to see if there was understanding, disgust, or a need to be sick from the wine.

 

[Vailyn]

Allora reached into the basket for a chicken leg, half of a roast sandwich and another handful of berries. She nibbled on the food as she listened to Nicholas explain the joy of copulation. The images his words created seemed very odd and senseless.

“He created men and women quite similarly, but in our own ways. Instead of pollen, a man will create seed. To make a child, a woman will take the seed of a man inside her body."

Her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of this. "Do men make seeds like flowers? I have gathered seeds and striplings to plan ahead for the next planting season. Would the husband and wife lay in a bed together and he would hand her his seed?"

She pulled a cloth napkin from the basket and wiped her fingers and mouth with it. The combined affects of the sun's light, belly full of food and the wine made Allora feel curiously sleepy, very warm and happy. She caught herself looking at the artist and thought maybe she was happy to be with him...

"We do this with the parts of our bodies that make men and women different."

Her face became firm with concentration as she leaned a bit wobbly towards Nicholas. Her hands landed on his chest and kept her from falling over him. "Men and woman are certainly different here." She stated confidently as she patted his chest and then patted her chest. "You are firm. I am soft." She nodded as if she had stated the wisest answer in the world and smiled at him with happy, dazed blue-green eyes.

“The JOY is that this act, copulating, it is … well, to be blunt your Ladyship, very pleasurable.”

"I," she declared stoutly. "I find your company pleasurable, Master Artist. Thus it must be like the joy of cop-copulating." Her wine drunk fingers clumsily grabbed a few berries from the basket and pushed them against his lips. "You have not tried the berries yet. They are my second favorite!"

Allora waited until he took them into his mouth, beamed at him in delight and grabbed the bottle for another small sip to wet her throat. She put the bottle down and stared at it intently. "Oh! I forgot to use a cup. I fear I will not be ladylike enough upon my marriage day... "

She grew melancholy all of the sudden and she whispered, "Perhaps I am not meant to be happy, Master Artist. Perhaps the joys of men and women are not meant for me..." She sighed.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He felt better she was beginning to eat something other than tarts, maybe it will be better for her stomach. Though he couldn’t help but to laugh at the imagery of some of her assumptions.

"Men and woman are certainly different here," patting her chest than his. "You are firm. I am soft."

He raised his dark eyebrows in surprise as she compared their chests. In part because he was surprised she didn’t notice that patting her own chest didn’t make her notice how bare her chest was. Yet she seemed unafraid to reach out and touch him. In her sweet drunkenness he couldn’t help to smile and enjoy this lunch with her.

“I did not mean our chests,” he replied wiping his hand across his shirt, tempted to touch hers as she did. “Surely you have noticed as such in paintings, or sculptures, or drawings that show a man’s parts. Or seen a male animal like a horse. Or even a child bathing. There is the compatible parts we have. That’s what is used in copulating. The JOY is that this act …”

His words were almost interrupted when she continued, and berries found his lips.

"I find your company pleasurable, Master Artist. Thus it must be like the joy of cop-copulating."

“Well, I find your company pleasurable too, your Ladyship. But believe me,” he said with a cheeky look on his face, “this is not nearly as close to the joys of sex.”

"Oh! I forgot to use a cup. I fear I will not be ladylike enough upon my marriage day... "

She was off on another tangent again. She showed this personnality the day before as well, but it seemed more buoyant in the wine infused haze she was in. It just made the artist want to watch, to try to capture these sometime, the different minds and different muses of this young woman.

"Perhaps I am not meant to be happy, Master Artist. Perhaps the joys of men and women are not meant for me..."

“Oh,” he jumped in, “with all due respect, I couldn’t disagree more, miss. It’s clear you can find passion in many things. Just because you don’t use a cup or always show the grace of a lady does not mean your husband will not be able to give you such joy!”

He grabbed the bottle and took a big swig letting it wash over the berries, down his chin, and to grass. “I mean,” he said wiping the wine as best as he could with his shirt, “you surely are physically capable of such joy, only just have to wait for the man to give it to you.”

 

[Vailyn]

Sorrowful blue-green eyes peered morosely at Nicolas. "I fear that may not be the case for me, Master Artist. It does not seem as though my thoughts or wishes are taken into consideration. I fear I have no say in my life. I am to obey my Father. Then I shall need to obey my future husband. Oh!" She smiled, sunlight and wine drunk. She pulled a napkin from the basket and tried to clean the spilled wine that beaded Nicholas' face and chest.

"I am to obey you, Master Artist! You may order me while you work your magic with paint!" she declared with a childlike pleasure. Allora used her full concentration to pat the wine stain on Nicholas' chest. A tiny frown of effort created a small line between lightly arched brows. "I do not know about these drawings and statues you speak of, sir. Most of my life has been at the Abbey and there are only a few statues of the son of God, Mary and a few saints. There are no paintings there. Perhaps you can show me your drawings, Master Artist?"

Allora tried to look up at Nicholas, felt light headed and ended up falling into him instead. Her curling golden brown hair cascaded over them and moved back only a little as giggles chortled out from her. She pushed away with one unsteady hand and twinkling eyes laughed. "I fear, I am terribly ungraceful and apt be a poor lady indeed."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

When she started to clean his face he stayed quiet, more than happy to watch the child clean him and continue to speak. As she climbed up to concentrate on cleaning, he was presented very clearly those still exposed breasts, amazed at the constellation of freckles flushed across them. This close, he could smell the wine, smell the sweets, and smell her scent accented by the warm sun. She was alluring, but she was still a lady.

“Perhaps you can show me your drawings, Master Artist?"

He shouldn’t let her affect him, but she sure was. “I …. I have such a book,” he studdard, now growing far too aroused to be close to the daughter of his employer. “I could bring it with come tomorrow … i-if the lordship selects a … secluded site.”

She fell into him, and the instant contact was about as much as he could handle. Staring at her body for most the morning, listening to her questions, and just her overall presence was more intoxicating than the wine could ever be. He felt his member fill and fight against the tight pants he wore. The giggles nearly had him on the verge of a far greater embarrassment than the wool trousers could hide.

"I fear, I am terribly ungraceful and apt be a poor lady indeed."

“No,” he laughed sweating profusely, “you are learning the joys of a good bottle of wine, My Lady.” He helped her right herself, trying to covertly readjust her top to cover her up, trying to help his growing problem as much as possible. “Maybe you just need a bit of a rest, to lay back a bit and take a nap.” Thinking he could use a break, as his bladder was starting to feel the wine as well, he began rising to his feet, “I need to relieve myself, miss, so I am just going to step around that bush for a short bit.”

 

[Vailyn]

Allora nodded agreeably to the artist before he made his way into the woods to take care of himself. She laid in the vibrant green grass as he had recommended and felt very light yet heavy, happy, wobbly and hot. She smiled at the sun with her eyes closed against it's shining rays and rested for a moment. Then she started to think about the Master Artist and how he went to relieve himself. She realized that she felt a rather full herself and needed to find her own bush.

Untangling her hands from her curling golden brown locks, Allora trilled a happy melody as she took care to stand up very, very carefully. It was harder than normal. The world had this odd tendency of tilting, sharply turning or mysteriously falling. In fact, her head felt a bit out of sorts and not quite normal. Yet, look at the colors! Everything seemed to be a little brighter, shinier and glittering in a twinkle happy fashion.

Singing one of her favorite hymns, she traveled a short walk into the trees past the large boulder and made use of an accommodating bush. "I hope this does not harm you, green woodland bush. I fear there are no clay pots or outhouses here for me to use. You have been very good to let me use you thus. Thank you. I hope you grow strong and tall!" The correlating vision of a spritely bush with strong arms like a blacksmith made her giggle.

With a cheery wave, Allora weaved an interesting pattern back to the pond. "Hmmmm, I should wash my hands." she said to herself wisely. Unsurprisingly, she misjudged the distance to water and ended up kneeling in the edge of water. She resumed singing the hymn as she washed her hands clean. The cool water felt refreshingly lovely against her hot skin. It felt so wonderful, Allora splashed the cool water on her face and neck. She laughed as trickles of water sneaked down her chest and into the chemise. Only when she stood up, did she realize that her violet dress has become waterlogged and nearly half the skirt was drenched. She tried to wring some of the water out of the skirts and pulled the wet fabric away as it tried to cling against her legs.

As she tried to straighten out her skirt, Allora realized that her chemise has been caught lower in the waist cincher and her breasts were in plain view! A blush raged down her face and chest as she pulled the chemise back up and adjusted the dress to cover her properly. She hoped she has not been so revealing and unladylike around the Master Artist!

"He mustn't have seen me like this for he would have surely said something..." she whispered to herself, acutely embarrassed.

Distracted, Allora made her way back to the portrait setting and sat down by her shawl. She pulled the shawl into her arms and laid down on the soft grass with it cradled in her arms. A confusing, conflicting mass of emotions rolled through her and suddenly, she felt more weary than she has ever felt before. With a frown marring between her brows, Allora gave way to the weighted exhaustion and fell deeply asleep.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He was just finishing up on one of the toughest times he has ever had trying to relieve himself. His member stood steady and it held back the pressure in his bladder. When he tried to take his mind somewhere to let him relaxed, he could only envision the cherub sprawled out in the grass not far away topless and intoxicated. He heard some moving around nearby, and in the sudden worry of being seen the gates were open and he was able to empty himself.

After finishing, he started tucking himself back into his pants.

“‘Ere now, what’s your hurry to put that boy away?” came a voice from behind him. He turned to see the maid from the night before with her tell tail red hair flowing over her shoulders. She stood with a basket on her arm filled with another wine bottle and a loaf of bread.

He stuffed quicker into trousers, “excuse me for a minute I was just ..”

She closed the gap between them, dropping the basket and placing her hand on his. “I know what you were doing,” she said sweetly, “I just thought you could use some help.” She pulled his hand away where the pants were completely closed. She reached inside and pulled him out. “Oh, looks like you were running warm.”

Jane was nothing like her lady. She was skilled and direct. In no time she was on her knees in front of the artist with his manhood sliding through her open mouth. Her hand was caressing his scrotum, while the other steadied herself against his thigh. Her tongue swirled around him inside her mouth, and he could feel the wash of her saliva soaking him.

She knelt back on feet, letting it pop from her lips. She put both her hands around his length, working in the slick moisture. “I must admit,” she said breathily with her eyes wide, “I don’t know your paintings, but I see a work of art. I ain’t seen any this big before.” Her hands were dainty, but she could still fit both of them on him. He knew he was well blessed, it’s not something he hadn’t heard before, but he still enjoyed hearing the praise. Mostly because it usually came when a woman was pleasing him.

He groaned when her mouth resumed on him. There was no doubt this was beyond her first time, and her skills were extraordinary. Shortly he was on the verge of climax, and he began to groan gutterly. His hands found her head and stroked through her hair softly. He grunted a warning, and her eyes looked up to him knowingly, but she continued. Soon his seed was pouring into the back of her throat until the build-up from the morning drained.

As they were straightening themselves up he asked, “are you sure? The lady is likely not too aware of anything right now.”

She was pulling her hair up back into place. “Now look who is being the chivalrous one,” she teased. She turned to him and flipped a finger under his chin, “you can help me tonight then. After my lady is asleep.”

This brought him back somewhat to the situation across the hedge. “On that,” he said scratching his hair, “she maybe needing your help now. The heat and the sun were much, and I do not think she has had much wine before. Her dress hsa, well, failed her. It maybe more discreet if you saw to her now.”

She giggled lightly, and gave a smirk. “I’ll see to her, Mister Artist.”

He laughed as she started walking away, “That is Fuentes, thank you,” he joked.

 

[Vailyn]

Allora woke up with a start and a shiver stung up from her damp slippered feet as a breeze blew over her wet dress. She groaned as a wicked throbbing spiked through her head, her head felt light and her body felt heavy as she tried to get up. A chilly coolness on her chest made her look down and she gasped when she saw how much of it was bare to sight. She yanked up her shawl and jerked it over to cover herself. A low moan of pain and growing dismay left her tension thinned lips. She looked around almost frantically and calmed a little when she realized she was alone.

I...I--maybe he did not see me in such disarray... Maybe I... The words faded away when she glimpsed the portrait that the Master Artist left on the stand. It wasn't finished. It was dramatically beautiful. He made her appear enchantingly beautiful and utterly wanton. For there she lay in the grass with a secret smile and her pert breasts only covered by the most laughable sense. If a thin layer of silken lace is any cover at all.

Sluggish and aching from the wine, Allora's minor discomfort swelled into a panic edged embarrassment and the pounding in her head grew harsh. Mortified, confused and unsteady in her heart and body, she made her way back towards the castle.

A noise grew louder as she walked and before she knew it, she came upon the source. A woman knelt in front of a man whose groans and harsher breathing have filled the orchard. The red haired woman's head moved forward and back with a wet slurping noise as her hands fondled something. He grunted and the woman watched him as she continued to suckle. Allora saw her throat convulse as the woman swallowed several times and pulled away from the man. A thin white trail dripped from the corner of the woman's lips and Allora saw her holding a strange appendage. Her shocked eyes realized that the woman was Jane and when her eyes flickered up she saw that the man was the Master Artist. His dark face appeared flushed and pleased.

Silently, she made her way back to the castle and sneaked into her room. With cold fingers, Allora jerked off her clothes and felt no remorse when parts were torn in her eagerness to be rid of them. She pulled on her old cotton nightgown and bloomers and went to bed. A while later, when Jane came to check on her, Allora pleaded illness and asked to be left alone. Jane returned with a small tray of food, checked on Allora who pretended to be asleep and quietly left again. Finally alone, Allora hugged herself and prayed. Prayed for forgiveness and understanding. She did not know if she deserved forgiveness and she certainly felt as though there were little that she understood in this new life of hers. She did not fit in here. The life did not fit her. She had felt hopeful as she made progress on new friendships but now all she thought she knew was suspect and she felt lost. Alone. This time, she let herself cry.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

“It’s unfinished.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Nicholas stated, “we worked most the morning and some in the afternoon, but the sun became too much for your daughter, I believe.”

Lord Blackwood stood with his back to the artist, his hands clasped in behind him, and the painting against the wall of his study. This daily meeting has become the routine, and has been the dread worthy moment. The long pauses of silence like this one were not helping the cause. “This will not be acceptable as it is, you will need to finish it.”

“Yes, my Lord,” he replied. “I intend to resume tomorrow.” Nicholas was impatient with this meeting today. He knew the expectation for tomorrow, and he was becoming quite hungry. After returning to the clearing to find the Lady had gone, he spent the rest of the day exploring the garden for other settings. It was amazing how peaceful a man can become after a rendezvous like one with the maid during lunch. He was concerned about the missing Lady, but Jane had probably found her and took her back.

After long minutes looking upon the painting, the Lord resumed. “You will have to resume without the clothing she wore today.”

“Without, sir?”

“The staff stated her clothing had torn when she tried to remove them herself.” He wouldn’t look away from the painting as he spoke, and the works became slower and more thought out. “She is not one who has learned the ways of nobility as yet. Including allowing the help to properly disrobe her.” With a long heavy sigh he moved his hands to the pockets of his vest. “You may choose to continue, but I plan to have her clothed in her next outfit. Which is fine as I see it is only her legs that remain, and I expect that to have little influence by clothing.”

“Influence?”

The lord turned quickly and sat at his desk, scratching at a bad. “I am drawing the route to the well where she washed herself as a child once. That will be your next task. It shall be from the waist up so you don’t foul up and fail to finish this. The top of her dress will be draped around her waist, and she shall be bathing herself in just her chemise. I expect better than your first”

“Bathing … sir?”

“And she will be looking at you, like she would be looking at me.” He handed a piece of paper with a rough sketch on it. “Now leave me, you may pick up the painting here in the morning to finish it.”

Looking at the sketch, Nicholas moved towards the door confused.

“And have the maid Madeleine come see me.”

---

“Good Evening, Master Fuentes,” Jane said smiling wide. Immediately, the kitchen full of maids and cooks turned their eyes to him. They seemed to be all here having their dinner between their duties, but all came to a halt when he entered the warm kitchen. Many of them gave a good evening as well, some curtsied at his entrance, and some of them dropping their eyes to his waistline before back to his face.

With a smirk he nodded respectfully to the room. “Good evening, Jane, Ladies,” he greeted. “I was told by Lord Blackwood that he would like to see Madeleine?”

There was a squeak to the side of him. Turning, there was a young maid, maybe the same age as Allora, and almost a resemblance to her. She was thing, fair skinned, and light haired. Her face turned bright red, and her hand went to her mouth as her eyes went wide. Jane standing next to her put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, “you’ll be fine, Maddy, it will be over quick.”

There was a sullen feeling to the room as Madeleine left the room quickly and sheepishly. Nicholas, confused, turned to Jane and she shook her head forcing a smile. “Are you hungry, sir? I can have dinner brought up to your room.”

“Am hungry, Lass, but I would hate to interrupt your meal,” he replied.

“Then care to join us?” she asked.

They dug into a bowl of stew made with game meat, better than he could ever find in London. Much of the chatter was about duties and tasks they all had to do that day. Nicholas mostly listened as he ate, always the one to observe and understand. Every so often, he caught one of the maids looking his way with a smile, before going back to their conversation. He was surprised that so much of the help was young, younger than him at least. So often he heard downstairs help was filled with old reliable staff, but seemingly not so much here.

After a while, Madeline returned and sat next to Jane taking her cup and quickly drinking the whole of the wine left in it. Jane gave her a long questioning look, and Madeline just shook her head with an innocent smile. Jane looked relieved, then straightened herself when she saw Nicholas watching them. “I will check on the lady before it gets too dark,” she said looking down at her bowl picking at some vegetables. “She took ill this afternoon.”

“Oh,” he said, “she seemed to be struggling in the morning sun. Do you think it is something worse?”

“Can’t say for sure, sir. But once I check on her, I will stop by your room to let you know.” Her eyes moved up to his, and a little bit of a wink flashed.

Nicholas just smiled, finished his stew, thanked the staff, and retired to his room.

 

[Vailyn]

Allora woke up with dry, aching eyes in the darkness before dawn. The ingrained habits from the Abbey still held sway over her waking hours. She lay still in the enveloping silence and let her mind flood with all the emotions, pain, confusion and thoughts of the past day. It wouldn't settle. None of it made sense. A part of her wished fiercely for Mother Superior and the other Sisters. Once she had many she could go to for answers and solace. Here, she had no one to turn to. No one but God.

There's a lovely chapel on the grounds but she shied away from that idea. She didn't want to see anyone today. She only wanted a quiet place to pray and fast. Prayer will help to clear her mind and heart. Perhaps prayer will bring peace and enlightenment. Regardless, Allora needed the sanctity of prayer and the peace of doing that which is familiar.

After morning ablutions, Allora dressed in plain cotton chemise, bloomers, petticoats, a simple blue dress with black buttons and white wimple. She gathered her sturdy brown cloak and left the house quietly. She walked aimlessly and found herself back at her favorite rock by the pond. As much as she loved the spot, new memories clouded her joy. She walked beyond the far side of the pond and let herself go into the dense woods. It reminded her of the times she used to wander the forest for herbs. Life made more sense to her then. She did not understand anything about life now.

Allora heard the trickling of water and followed it to the source. She came upon a small glade with a miniature stream as dawn broke past the horizon. It felt peaceful there. Only the sounds of the forest wildlife carried to her here. Placing her cloak on the ground beside her, Allora knelt and bowed her head in prayer. She prayed for the well being of those she loved. She prayed for forgiveness of the sins she has committed and those she may not be aware of. Then she poured her heart out about the past month, her current situation, her engagement, her Father and all of the confusion that warred inside her. She pleaded for understanding and to be forgiven for her sins.

Some weight seem to fall away from her shoulders and they bowed in a tentative relief from the burdens of doubt and loss. For the next few hours, Allora repeated all of her favorite sermons and passages from the bible and quietly sang the hymnals that would have been sung at the Abbey come morning, noon, evening and night. Once the flood of words subsided, she fell in a deep silence that was only broken to repeat the Lord's Prayer or the Serenity Prayer.

Though none of her problems have been resolved, a peaceful calm settled over Allora and she felt more at peace in that moment than she has since she left the Abbey.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Mostly, since the evening before Nicholas was followed by disappointment. He retired to his room, and remained awake reading for some time expecting a visit from the maid, but none come. The morning arrived to find he had slept past a breakfast. The unfinished painting was not where the Lord had said to find it, meaning it would not be completed this day. Then when he went to find the Lady, she was not to be found.

He came across one of the maids in the kitchen the night before that he didn’t quite catch the name for. She knew little of the Lady, or for that matter anyone else about. She had heard the Allora had risen early and left her room, but not in the assigned dress.

One thing was pretty clear, he would not be making the Lord happy in today’s meeting. “Dance in the Rain,” he told himself.

Nicholas wandered the garden, his satchel filled with anything he’d need to paint or draw, minus the easel of course. He knew he couldn’t do anything for the Lord’s needs, but maybe something else could inspire him and sell it the next time he returned to London. For the most part, inspiration was fleeting. The gardens were generally devoid of people, and as beautiful as this place was, painting flowers and shrubbery were far from inspirational to him. He found the well, but was disturbed with how much in the open it was and knowing the girl would be exposed concerned him. The orchard reminded him of Jane, and the troubling exchange with young Maddy. He found the glenn around the pond empty, and thought about doing some work here. The stream nearby gurgled, and it intrigued him.

He wandered just short while and he spotted her. Allora was on her knees, intensely given over to prayer. The glade she found herself in was lit by the sun coming down with a beam of light that surrounded her in the misty air of the forest. Between the thick forest, the heavy brush, and the mossy undergrowth, her light clothing stood out as bright shining light of hope. She seemed like a saint in the woods, one being touched by the light of God.

He had no idea how long he watched her there in the glade, but when she started to gather herself felt sore in his legs. He couldn’t quite move, and felt his satchel items strewn around him. Looking down, he found that he was kneeling on the ground, and in front of him was a small painting capturing all that he watched. The forests, the stream, the brush, the light through it all, and most of all the reverent girl in the middle of it. Not just that, it was to him the greatest work he had ever done.

 

[Vailyn]

Though she had no answers to the questions that plagued her, Allora felt at peace and a feeling of comfort that everything will sort out in the end. She looked up into the skies and smiled for the first time that day. The day was beautiful and bright. The small glade she had discovered was a fair bit of rainbow greens with wild flowers and a burbling stream. More of the day has passed than she thought. If the sun's place is true, she has been in prayer for most of the day and evening is not too far off.

Allora tried to get stand up but was stalled by the ache in her knees and legs from staying still for hours. She hissed in pain as her leg muscles cramped on her. Instead of standing, she tumbled to the ground with a muffled cry. She pulled the skirt up to look at her legs and eased the cramps. With a relieved sigh, she went to the stream to drink a cup or two of water. She stayed by the water with a hand drifting in the flow. A part of her wished that she could also flow away upon the stream.

Reluctantly, Allora gathered her brown cloak and began to walk back to the castle. On the edge of the glade, clear blue-green eyes widened in surprise when she found the Master Artist sitting on the ground and painting. His tools, satchel and more were scattered around him in a circle. Paints splotches colored the grass and ground. His focus was intent on his work and seemed to be lost to the world. The tumbling harsh pounding of her heart eased and she made way to walk by unnoticed. Curious eyes glanced that the canvas and the portrait that the artist worked on with such intense concentration was beautiful. It was a beautiful, bright moment captured in sweeping lines and daring broad strokes of color. He painted her at prayer. A serene, poignant moment of peace.

Memories of the other portrait darkened her mind and the confusion returned with an edge of uncertainty. The Master Artist could create something with such aching comfort and yet depict a carelessly wanton vision as well. How can she be both? Is the way he paints her a truth that she does not know?

She took a step towards him and stopped. Hesitantly, she called his name, "Master de la Fuentes..."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

On her greeting, he looked up; brush in his hand and his mouth, palette smeared over with paints, and the painting lying in the grass in front of him. He kept looking back and forth, confused between the painting and the girl. He must have become lost once more, since now details were enhanced. He quickly grabbed the brush from his mouth, and started to get up.

“Your Ladyship,” he stumbled, “I didn’t mean to … I mean, it was wrong for me to paint y-you without your allowance. It … it wasn’t right.”

His face flushed his dark cheeks. Standing now, he dropped his head to the ground shamefully. His eyes were drawn again to the work of art, The painting lay on the grass between them like the bridge between their cultures. It raised a question in his head, one he couldn’t help but to ask.

“This is the real you, isn’t it? Not what I painted yesterday, this is what you want to be?”

 

[Vailyn]

Seeing him so uneasy and discomforted made Allora's confusion deepen because she did not know what to expect and yet it was not in her to be needlessly cruel. Her heart warmed towards the artist. She could not remain upset with him. She didn't know why. Whenever she was with him, something in her eased. Her hands crinkled the edge of the brown cloak over and over again.

She stared at the man who has turned her life more inside out than anyone else. Even counting her Father. Why did she want to trust him after what had happened?

Allora looked down at the painting. She whispered, "I am not certain of what you mean. I wondered if the truth of who I am is in what you paint, Master Artist. I ... I saw the painting from the day before and I became angry, confused and frightened. It is not how I was raised to be and yet your portrait of me showed such wanton bliss. I didn't know that the garments I wore were so thin... I didn't know." She felt tears threaten to fall and thickened her voice. She swallowed it down.

"I pray for guidance, forgiveness, understanding and comfort. The very act is calming to me and brings me peace. For a while, I dreamed of becoming a nun and joining the Abbey. I had thought that was my fate and I was glad to accept it. However, Father sent for me and now I am to be married to a stranger. Then... then there is you, Master de La Fuentes. You... cloud my mind and yet make me feel at ease. I--" She dropped her gaze to the ground. "I do not know what to believe."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

“I want you to be at ease with me, my Lady … Allora.” Saying her name directly was likely frowned upon, but her openness was inspirational. “I don’t mean to cloud your mind. I have a duty here, to capture your innocence, and I feel … what is inspirational in how you let your innocence show.”

He looked down at the painting in the grass and thought about her words. “I don’t try to paint what I see. I try to paint what I think is there. But not what I feel … what you would show me what you feel. Yesterday, I saw what you were feeling. It was pleasure and want. It may have been how you were poised, how you were dressed. Likely the wine was part too. But you have the ability to be alluring, it just … well… it still showed your innocence as well.“

He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “But this, I see your worry, your angst. So in what you know, you turned to the one place that is solitude, where the answers could lie. If yesterday your innocence was hidden behind your duty. Today, you showed me what could be innocence hiding a far deeper woman.”

 

[Vailyn]

Her skin flushed from her lightly freckled cheeks down past the material of her plain dress. Her hands relaxed their grip on her cloak and she held still as thoughts whirled.

Alluring? Am I? He thinks I am. Does that mean I am not wanton? But the way the dress showed-- Jane and the Master--

"Innocence?" Haltingly, she continued in a hushed voice. "I fear my attire from yesterday did not allude to any innocence. I did not realize how I was attired. I did not think to question Jane or my Father. I thought that I was not cultured in the ways of a lady and it was common for a dress to feel so light. I did not realize it was also very revealing as well."

An awkward silence fell between them. One full of things that wanted to be said but was not. Allora's blue-green eyes searched Nicholas for a long while before glancing away. "I-I... I saw you. With Jane." She blinked. Blinked fast and hard. "I did not mean to watch. I was going back to my room when I heard something on the path. I thought that maybe someone needed help. But... you--you seemed as though you were in pain and pleasure." She blushed furiously! "Is that immoral? You and Jane? Is that what waits for me as a wife?"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He blinked repeatedly in surprise. “You … you saw that? With Jane?” he studdard. “In … in the Or-orchard? “ He took a hard swallow.

He turned away from her in shame. Cupping his hands into one another, the red faced painter considering his words carefully. “First of all, I want to say to not judge Jane for what she did, it was immoral your Ladyship but, she should not be punished for such.” He looked down at the grown and turned his head slightly so not speaking directly away from her. “Understand you ARE a lady, and that is true with what you wear or … do.” He wrestled with his words, frustrated that he got caught. “That shouldn’t be what you wait for at marriage. It was … well … a way to give a man pleasure. But as a wife, you would be expect to bare children, and what you saw … will … not.”

Turning back to her, she seemed to be blushing, curious, and confused. “I am sorry if what I painted of you yesterday was so … scandalous. I am sorry you saw Jane and I being Immoral. I am sorry for this … because this is no way any of your father’s men should be speaking to his daughter. I shouldn’t talk to you this way, I feel this is not my place. But I feel you deserve to to be know. You deserve to be treated like the woman you are.”

 

[Vailyn]

Allora was too busy blushing furiously to say anything at all for a while. If she had tried to speak, she was sure to only say meaningless words that would make not one bit of sense. "Oh no! I-I-I no." She resumed wringing the cloak with her hands. "Jane. She--I do not judge. It is not my place. And I? Well." Her gaze grew distant, clouding her blue green eyes. "I never thought of myself as a lady. I am only a simple girl that grew up in an Abbey. This... this castle, my Lord Father, everything is strange and very different from what I have known. I... I do not fit here. I do not know if I can ever make myself fill the role of a lady, let alone a wife."

She turned to look at the Master Artist. "Please, do not let my words distress you so. I.. It was not my intention, sir. I must be keeping you from your work. Please forgive my intrusion and my thoughtless words." Allora's small figure seemed to shrink down from some unseen heavy weight. Though her mind has been cleared by prayer, the fears and questions have returned. She did not know what to do. Maybe it was time to speak with her father. Perhaps that will sweep away the questions.

****

"Father? May I enter?"

"Come in, child." Lord Blackwood answered from inside his study. She saw that he was seated behind his desk. Shyly, Allora walked to the desk and stopped with her hands clasped before her. Though she has been living at the castle for a month, she has not spent much time with her Father. He was a busy noble who had to oversee the surrounding provinces. There were many days when he traveled away to take care of one business or another.

I can do this. He is my Father. I should be able to ask him questions.

"Father, I would like to speak with you about the portrait paintings that you have commissioned the Master Artist to create."

"Yes yes! He does great work does he not? I saw what he has done thus far and it is not exactly as I have wished but it is still pleasing to my eyes. What do you want to ask, my child?" the Lord asked with a smug smile as he worked on his papers.

"I did not realize that a Lady's attire could be scandalous. I am not comfortable in that manner of dress. I wanted to let you know that I will wear my normal clothes for the sittings. I cannot in good conscience wear items that are so thin that--that it does not hide what should not be seen." She finished the last with a rushing rattle of words.

Without bothering to look up, Lord Blackwood's voice hardened into cold, contemptuous command. "You are my child. You will do as I command when I command it. You do not have a say in the matter. If you refuse, you will be locked in your room with only water to drink until you change your mind. Do not fight me, child. My anger is a terrible thing to behold. You do not want to risk it." He looked up with dead blue eyes and stared at Allora. "Am I clear?"

A baleful cold settled into Allora's bones and grew colder with each word that crossed her Father's lips. Panicked and confused, Allora gave way to his stare and submitted to his will. "Yes, Father."

With tear filled eyes and an aching heart, Allora returned to her bedroom. She felt lost and did not know where to turn or what to do. All of her life, she has done as she has been told.