The Tender Muse's Portrait

[ArcticAvenue]

He wrapped on the heavy wood door, “Lord Blackwood? It is Fuentes.”

“Wait there,” came his voice heavy and angry.

Nicholas stayed close to the door, knowing to not force the help to go in search for him and test the Lord’s patience. After a few minutes, he heard a conversation, a young voice he guessed to be Allora’s was speaking. There were pleads, but the timid tone kept the words from reaching his ears. Curiosity got the best of him, so he leaned closer to the door.

“You will do as I command when I command it,” came the Lord’s voice. “Do not fight me, child. My anger is a terrible thing to behold.”

There was as squeal from the girl. He could hear a struggle, movement on the floor, a chair shifted.

“You do not have a say in the matter.” His voice was stern, more aggressive. The struggle seemed to stop, the squeals ending. “You do not have a say in the matter. Am I clear?”

Things grew quiet behind the door. Nicholas was torn. It was not his place to step in between a man and his daughter, it was not anyone’s place to speak up against their master, yet Allora should not be treated in such a way. HIs fists balled up, his anger built, and he just did what he could to control himself.

In minutes, he calmed slowly. He could hear coughing from the room from the girl. The lord was speaking in quieter tones.

Suddenly the door opened. Instead of seeing Allora, it was Madeline, the maid he met the night before. Her eyes were red and filled with moisture, as was her nose, as were her lips. She was clutching her dress where the tear near the collar loosened the black fabric. Nicholas was not a fool; he knew what she was made to do in there. It must have been apparent on his face, because her’s went red, her eyes cast to the floor, and she began to blubber. “The lord wishes to see you,” she said.

He tilted his head with concern, “you alright Maddy?”

She kept her head low, and was on the edge of bursting. She shook her head, and moved quickly down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Still stunned by this event, Nicholas stepped into the lord’s room. The older man sat behind his desk, much less dressed than his usual. The papers that one would expect to find on the desk were gone, replaced with the day before’s half-finished painting laid flat in front of Blackwood. He wore just a loose long shirt as Nicholas would wear when sleeping. He looked sweaty, his hair disheveled. The lord was drinking wine from crystal goblet, a seemingly contradiction from the rest of him. The lord smiled with wine stained lips. “Master Fuentes, what do you have for me?”

“Well,” he started, “I am sure you know that I had no progress on yesterday’s painting, and your daughter needed a day to refresh. So rather than the painting at the well, I came across her in a glen, and …” He presented the painting of the praying Allora.

Immediately, Blackwood flushed. “What is This! I didn’t ask for this!”

“Y-you asked for … her innocence.”

“I asked you to paint her by the well,” the lord said slamming his hand on the desk. “Not paint her as a bloody nun!”

Nicholas grew flustered. “I understand, but does the painting not please you?”

“It is rubbish! I’d send you away now if you did not owe me a debt that you cannot pay.”

“Rubbish?” Nicholas looked down at this new painting, growing angry and confused.

The old man rose to his feet, leaning over the desk, his eyes narrowed, his face red with anger, and his tone very clear. “You will do what I command, and only what I command. Tomorrow, you will take the girl down to the well, and you will paint her. Dress around her waist. No chemise. No shawl. Washing herself like she is a babe.”

Nicholas was taken aback by this aggressive move, but now he expected more. “Your Lordship?”

“Is that understood, Spaniard?”

Nicholas realized the extent of what this man was willing to do. He also understood this was now nothing less than working for the devil himself. Blackwood stood leaning over the desk, his loose shirt draped over the erotic painting of his own daughter, and now showing to the painter that he was wearing no pants. All of this just shortly after he forced himself on poor Maddy.

Yet Nicholas owed this disgusting aristocrat more money than he had ever earned painting in London, so there was nothing else he could accept. “Yes, your lordship.”

He walked out the door, closing it behind him. Then realized he still had the painting from the glen in his hand. Nicholas moved quickly to his room, and found a satchel large enough to hide it. Eventually he would be able to return to London for supplies, and maybe he can sell this to speed the end to this nightmare.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

(cont)

Against the flicker of the hearth fire, Nicholas could easily make out the full curvature of Jane’s ample breasts as his hands kneaded them in front of his face. Perched on the end of the kitchen’s table, her thighs spread wide, Nicholas pressed his hardness into her sex. The maid’s dress, opened completely down the front, wrapped around him mimicking the way her arms and legs wrapped around him as well. His shirt was open in the front, his pants pooled at the ankles, and the empty darkened kitchen contained their noises as he continued to pound into her.

There was nothing romantic about their lust, just as there was nothing romantic about how they got to this point. Him coming down in the night to find something to help him sleep, and finding her instead. He had taken to the port in his room prior, allowing him to forget some about the earlier run in with Blackwood, and she was more than in a cheery mood herself. At first, she agreed to let him return the favor of the day before. He quickly found that the dress she wore hid no other clothing underneath, something he would have to check again himself at a future date. After an extended time enjoying the redheaded nectar, he rose to bring their loins together. She was clearly not the model of innocence her lady was, but tonight this is what Nicholas needed.

As he approached his climax, he felt her flutter around him, giving off light squeaks as if hiccuping through an orgasm. He took his lips off her breasts and pressed them into hers keeping his own groans quiet as his seed erupted into her.

“I’m beginning to think you were naked in front of me on purpose,” Jane giggled as she was straightening up her dress a short time later.

“I thought that is more normal at the Blackwood manor,” he laughed finishing up with his pants but leaving the shirt open. “I see you need little under your skirt. And today I saw our Master with his pants down.”

“Oh yeah? You give him an exam, did you?”

“No, No,” he laughed. “I believe he was meeting with Madeline before I entered.”

Jane was facing away from him, but he could feel the kitchen get colder in that instant. She stood more tensely, stopping her work on her dress. A quiet pause hung over them as the tension grew. “What did he do to Maddy?” She was blunt, to the point.

“I … I didn’t see,” he answered. “I was outside the door.” Feeling like it was important to do, he stepped behind her and put an arm around to her stomach. She resisted at first but allowed herself to rest against him. She seemed to be on the verge of tears, unlike the strong maid he had always known. “What does he do? What does he do to all of you?”

She shrugged lightly. After a long breath she said, “After me father died, he said he’d feed me mom and the wee ones if I worked for him. We all work here because something is owed to him. When you owe a man like that, you must do as he says.”

After letting this sink in he asked, “Does he make you …” he couldn’t quite say it, couldn’t quite think it.

She shook her head. “Started when Ellen came, then he would ask for her more than I.” He remembered Ellen. The cook’s assistant. Short, well fed, soft, and full of color for a fair haired girl. She had paused, then struggled with the next words. “.. but not at all since Maddy arrived. None of us since Maddy arrived.”

It was obvious the connection between Jane and Maddy was strong. He shut his eyes, and took a deep breath. The only way he could say anything to ease her concern was to be direct. “It was clear that he only took her mouth. Clear to me at least.”

Some tension eased in her body, and she nodded. “Aye, but soon that will not be enough. Never had been in the past.”

He wanted to do something, this horrid use of the Lord’s birthright was dreadful. Yet what could he do? His debts were no different than theirs. The only difference is that he is saved from embarrassment that they do. So like them, he is left to do his duty and follow commands.

“I should check on Maddy,” she said pulling away from his embrace. “I may stop by later when I check on the Lady.”

It brought a smile to his face and he nodded, “I’d like that, even just to hear how Maddy is doing.”

A flush of color went across the maid’s cheek and she turned to leave. “Please don’t tell the Lady about all this. There is only so much we can save her from, but we all agree we must do what we can for her.”

He nodded as she left. Jane was a good girl. Not one that he would want to bring home to meet his family, nor for that part to even consider marrying, but her heart’s in the right place.

 

[Vailyn]

Jane

The servant quarters are near the kitchen and takes up a part of two floors near the back of the castle. The married couples and single men have rooms on the first floor. The single females that make up two thirds of the workforce are on the second. Each of the women are given a small room to call their own. A luxury that is hard to find in most cases and one of many perks of working at the main castle. However there's a cost that becomes apparent over time.

Jane's heart went out to the youngest and newest addition to the castle. Young Maddy had no idea that she was hired due to her remarkable resemblance to the Lord Blackwood's daughter, Lady Allora. They're both kindhearted young women with an innocent air that cannot be mimicked by anyone of experience.

The fiery buxom woman had intended to fix a hot toddy for Maddy and take it up to the young woman for a chat when she was distracted by the artist. A flush of sensual gratification swept across her fair skin as memories of Nicholas’ endowment and skills replayed in her mind. Now that there is a man! Shaking her head to clear her mind, a smile lingered on her lips as she knocked softly on Maddy’s door before entering.

The young maid glanced at the door from where she huddled in the bed. Jane could see that the poor thing has been crying. Making a motherly hushing noise, Jane joined Maddy, wrapped her arms around her, stroked her hair and just repeated that it’ll be alright. The delicate young woman cried silently for a long time without saying a word. Once she had calmed down and only faint hiccups paused between them, Jane asked, “Would you like to talk about it?”

Madeline shook her head.

Jane squeezed her a tighter before letting go. “Do you want to quit?”

Madeline shuddered before she answered hoarsely, “I cannot. My family needs the money I make and there’s too many mouths to feed.”

“Would you like some advice?”

She didn’t respond for a long time before nodding curtly.

“Whatever he asks for, do it as quickly as you can. He is a dangerous man to cross but fair as long as you follow his orders. If you can, try to learn what makes him pleased and it will shorten the time you spend with him. Do not be afraid if you find yourself enjoying it. It’s as natural as a babe being born for a man and woman to find pleasure in one another. If you want advice on how to make him come quickly, you need only ask. I will be here for you. We all have to stick up for one another. And, look at me.”

Jane raised Maddy’s chin and held her gaze. “Believe this. You are not a bad for what has happened. You are not being punished. This is a part of our world. Do what you must and know that you can find happiness with another. One day, you can have a man of your own and family if you want it. Lord Blackwell is good about that.” She hugged the girl tightly. “Sleep now. I’ll stay until you do.”

And she did. Jane stayed with the tender little maid who has lost a piece of her innocence and sang a lullaby until she fell asleep. She carefully scooted out of the bed and made her way to Lady Allora’s chambers. She found the young lady in a similar pose that she had found Maddy. Allora slept with dry tear tracks connected freckles on her pale cheeks. A worried expression stayed on her sleeping face and one of her hands clutched the pillow in a tight grasp. Jane’s heart went out to the noblewoman. She pulled the covers up to cover the young maiden and patted her gently until she relaxed in her sleep.

Jane left her quietly and her spirits lifted as she went down the hall to the artist’s room. Her fingers pulled lose the lacing of her bodice before she even opened his door. Closing it carefully, she removed her clothes with a few motions and crawled naked beneath the covers to join Nicholas. A wicked smile filled her eyes when she found him resting naked and semi-erect.

Well, it won’t do for you to be only partially hard now would it?

Jane’s willing wet mouth swallowed him whole and took his growing length down her throat. She knew he was truly awake when his large hands sank into her red curls and took control of her movements. She suckled on his hardness as she played with his full sack. Groaning appreciatively at the feel and size of him. Jane couldn’t stop a little shriek of laughter from escaping when he jerked himself out of her throat, tossed her onto her back and thrust into her with the rough rhythm she loved best.

They fell asleep in a sweaty tangle of limbs and harsh breathes from their enthusiastic bed play. A few hours later, Jane woke up with a start and confusion fooled her until she remembered where she spent the night. She lay draped over a hard chest and something eager was poking her soft belly. She looked at the window and guessed that there was a little time before dawn. Ready to take advantage and enjoy the simple pleasures in life, Jane made room for herself between Nicholas’ legs and wedged his hard cock between her full breasts. She leaned down to suck and lick on the crown of his tumescence. She played him with a gradually quickening pace until his ejaculation flooded her ready mouth and she swallowed the leaping bursts greedily.

She crawled up his shuddering and panting body until she reached his face, kissed him, and winked. “Good morning, Master Artist. I just wanted to give you a happy morn before I leave for the day. I enjoy the company.”

Jane made use of his washing basin to clean herself up a little, rearranged her hair into a modest coif and dressed. With so little sleep, the day will be long but it was well worth the loss of sleep in her mind. She hurried to fetch the assemble that Lord Blackwood has commanded that his daughter wear that day. Her eyes widened when she realized how sheer it all appeared. Tsking to herself, she gathered everything and readied herself to help her Lady.

Except, Lady Allora was not in her chambers. Laying the clothes and accessories on the bed, Jane went off to find her missing charge and found her working hard in the herb gardens. She was dressed in a simple gray habit of an Abbey acolyte, gathering apron, wimple and sensible shoes. A pile of weeds grew quickly as Allora worked with a spade to pull out the pretty but unwanted plants. The petite form seemed to be tense and anger colored her actions.

Jane cleared her throat and called out, “Milady, it’s time for you to dress for the day. Lord Blackwood ordered that you must resume the settings for the portraits.”

She didn’t think it was possible for the young maiden to grow more tense but her shoulders hunched and stiffened more. Her motions grew more angry and jerky.

“I am busy and I will dress myself for the portrait.”

Jane sighed inside. Her voice softened with understanding. “Milady, you know that your father will not be pleased with such.” She hesitated before continuing. “He is not a man to push, Lady Allora. Simply follow his orders and it will soon be done. I fear for your safety if you push him. He does not like to be crossed and dangerous when he is angered. You will be leaving to be married in a few months. Please be strong and stay safe until then.”

Allora raised dull blue-green eyes and asked, pain and confusion filling her voice, “Do I have no choice? Is this the way of the world? Why must I do something that feels wrong? It is not right… not right for me to show-to show so much…” Tears filled her eyes. “Must I? I-I I am not afeared of the Master Artist but I do not feel that it is proper. None of this is proper!”

Jane helped to draw the unresisting maiden up to stand, put an arm around her shoulders and took the spade out of her hand. She dropped it on the ground. “Let us get you cleaned up and dressed. I agree that the Master Artist is a decent man and he will not abuse you. You are doing nothing wrong. You are obeying the will of your father.” She kissed the side of Allora’s head. “You just need to remember that. You are doing as you are told.”

A sad silence wrapped around Allora. She said nothing as Jane drew a hot bath for her to bathe in and did not resist when she was dressed in another beautiful and yet immodest assemble. Jane drew a short cream colored silk chemise over her head. It was held up with thin straps, a band of floral lace across the top and showing a part of her breasts, and another band of lace edged the bottom that rested against her waist. Next, matching cream bloomers that came to her knees. A dark green satin dress with wide open shoulders and a plunging v neckline showed off the sheer chemise, cinched in tightly around her trim waist and flowed to hug her curving hips. The dress had no sleeves and the top rested by clinging to her shoulders.

Allora has never worn a dress that revealed most of her neck, shoulders and arms before. When she looked in the mirror, she realized that all of her freckles can be seen. A scattering of varying tans and browns that lay scattered over her nose, upper cheeks, a few on her neck, several on her shoulders and chest of her silken fair skin. She blushed to see that her nipples can be seen through the chemise. It was only a faint shadow but even that was more than she has ever shown before.

She sat at the vanity as Jane worked to comb her hair and pile her long golden brown locks into a complicated, gently twisted and woven up do. Several jewel encrusted pins held it in place and glittered in the light.

Allora had no idea how beautiful she looked. She could see nothing but a shameless display that she had no choice but to do. It made her heart ache. Jane watched as every expression and thought crossed the young lady’s face. There was nothing she could say or do to ease her from the thoughts. She just hoped that Lady Allora will not be beaten down by Lord Blackwood’s wicked demands.

“There now. You are stunning, Lady Allora! Your future husband is more lucky than he knows. Come now, it’s time to go. You are to meet the Master Artist at the well.” said Jane. She watched the maiden leave without a word. Suddenly, she felt exhausted. It had little to do with the lack of sleep from the night before. She just felt tired and pained by the hard facts of life.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Much of what he would need for the morning was laid out, set up, and ready for the maiden and her arrival. Yet he had time now to rest before her arrival. He sat in the loose trousers billowing down his legs, with his thin leather slippers planted flat in the ground. This allowed his knees to be bent up and he could cross his arms and rest his head. The drowsiness resulted from three -- amazingly three -- times with Jane. He smiled a little on this feat. Rarely has he done well enough for two, but she was able to find a third in him. Sure, Jane wouldn’t be one to bring home to his grandparents, but she would be one to tell the grandchildren about.

He had drifted off, when the sound of steps behind him made him jerk awake. Standing next to him was the lady, presented in all her magnificence. The satin of her dress shimmered and blended with the lawn surrounding the well. The sun made a halo around her golden curls. Even though she maintain the remembrance of the pale freckle laiden skin on her exposed shoulders, the increased sun she had seen made it glow with dazzling warmth.

Rising to his feet, he bowed gracefully in greeting. “Lady Allora, you look stunning.” He raised up and couldn’t help but to put his hands onto her forearms getting a full view of her. He could only but stare at the dressing the morning light and find nothing but elegance and beauty in that vision.

The fact he now had to paint her, and paint her the way the Lord asked him to sunk in. He swallowed hard, then started to pull her to the well. “Now Lady, today I will need your trust. If I am to capture you at your most beautiful, and your most innocent, your father suggested one that represents that to him. So, I want you to sit behind the well here as if you were washing.” Nicholas had already set up a stool, a bucket filled with scented flowers, and a small wash basin on the well edge. All of which he thought would be what she would need.

Once she found the seat, he moved behind her. “And now, My Lady, I would need your trust. This is now … for the art.” His hands move to the shoulders of her dress, and began to pull them down her arms. His movement, was as clear as his intentions. To not just stop with the revealing her cleavage, but her entire torso.

 

[Vailyn]

Combined Writing - Vailyn & ArcticAvenue

Collaborative Post by Vailyn & ArcticAvenue​

Allora had hoped that she would be able to reach the well before the Master Artist. Alas, she found that he was already setup and waiting for her at the latest location of her ongoing portraiture. She did not know that it was possible to be put at ease and be somehow happy to see the person who will be the most observant individual responsible for the capture of her unladylike poses.

He rose to greet her. His eyes seemed to hug every part of her body and made her skin tingle with their passing. It was not a cold day, nor did a cool breeze blow but it felt as though she has been grazed by a chill wind and a heated brush all at once.

Nicholas seated her on a stool and explained to her that she must submit to the situation that they were both caught in. A beautiful porcelain basin sat on the well wall and a bucket of water with fresh flowers and a washing sponge sat near the stool.

"He has to do this too. He does not wish to make me pose lewdly. He--

Just as she was trying to accept what was about to happen, the artist stepped behind her and pushed down the green sleeves of her satin dress. The wide bands that hugged her shoulders and partially covered her torso fell down without any resistance and lay over the skirt.

He whispered into her ear, “I know that this is probably quite uncomfortable for you, but please know that this is … necessary.”

Allora's whole body felt heavy, wooden and cold like stone. His breath across her ear and his whisper sent an odd tingling down her spine. Warmth traveled along its path and brought back life to her body.

Before she had much time to react, his hands were reaching for the chemise straps hanging on her shoulders. His fingers started to shake slightly as they took the material. Slowly he began to guide that down as well.

“You will not have to pose, you just need to sit here.” he said.

Nicholas' hands had barely skimmed her skin when he removed the straps of her chemise and yet it felt like a searing blaze to Allora. There was a buzzing noise that filled her ears. A rushing, pounding sound of her heart pumping rapidly. In her shocked wooden state, her silken ivory skin pebbled in dismay, fear and an unfamiliar tightness that stroked down from his touch and settled in her womb.

He remained behind her, taking in the exposed skin of her back, the light marks of her freckles coming over her shoulders. She remained fully exposed to him, but he seemed nervous now to move to see the rest of her. With a deep swallow he began to step around the well trying not to look her way, trying hard to not give her reason to feel he would stare lustfully.

Once he finds his seat in front of the canvas, he begins to prepare his paints, prepare his brushes, and prepare himself. When he peers around the canvas the first time, his eyes fall on her and he gasps.

A furious blush colors her tension white face and scattered down across her shoulders and chest in a swoop of pleasure at his reaction and uncertainty of her pose. Her arms raised to cover the firm round globes of puckered flesh but they failed to completely hide her innocent treasures. The falling light of the sun caused Allora's golden brown hair to shine like spun gold with hints of dark bronze. Shading her face beneath the coif of her hair and highlighting the blushing pink of her nipples that demanded attention.

“Perfect,” was his words. Spoken in a way one couldn’t quite tell if he was saying it about the way she was poised, or just about her. His eyes were moving across her torso noticeably, at times locking onto the pink capped nipples, then back to her face. Slowly, he became drunk from her beauty, and he couldn’t help but to swallow in his dry throat.

“Are you ready?” he asked deliberately. “You are comfortable?”

She could not speak. Words were lost in the rush of blood filling her freckled cheeks. Allora nodded slightly, blushing a darker red and biting her lip between her perfect white teeth.

He lifted his brush to the canvas, ready to begin. He sighed slightly and paused. Turning to her his held tilted sadly. "I am sorry you must be exposed like this. I know it must be really difficult to allow someone like me to do this to you. But you truly are beautiful. A work of art greater than any painting. I only hope I can capture it. If just to show you how beautiful you are."

His words sank into the chill that seemed to have covered her entirely since she had her awful meeting with her Father. They sank into her and made her feel less cold. They made her feel more alive, that curious feeling in her center grew stronger and she felt the need to rub her thighs together to hold it still. Wonderment grew in her with each time he repeated how beautiful she is to him. She's never thought of herself as beautiful. Life slowly brightened her blue-green eyes and they seem to catch the sunlight to shine just for the Master Artist.

"I'm not beautiful." she whispered.

He looked up at her.

She tried again. "I am not beautiful but you have this ability to make me feel as though I am."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

"I am not beautiful but you have this ability to make me feel as though I am."

“Give me this morning, and I will prove you wrong, my Lady.” He spoke to her, but his eyes were already on his canvas bringing about the world behind her to life. Unlike the standard canvas that he used at the pond or the portrait he created of her at the glen, this canvas was large. Not so much that she will be painted life sized, but there would be few mantles that this would not be impressive hanging over. Though it would be quite crude for such a thought.

He turned to the lady, and focused on how she sat. How did she think she was not beautiful? The way the sun enhanced her golden brown curls framing her face and rolling off her shoulders. The lightness of her cheeks accented against her bright eyes. That smooth neck rising up to the soft chin. Never had he seen someone so beautiful, and at no time could she be any more so herself surely. Yet the way she questioned him showed on her face. She was unsure of her beauty, maybe unsure about sitting in front of him half naked. There was an expression of concern, or fear, or maybe it was consciousness of being looked at in such a lewd way. Regardless of what it was, his heart ached for this pain. She was this fragile creature, and yet she was being made to placed this way, posed this way.

But it was beauty he saw, that was without a doubt. When he stared at her accidental exposure the other day, he became appreciative of her torso, but now bared full she showed how extraordinary she was. Her breasts saw no sign of age, firm and round. They lay across an alabaster skin like those smoothed pure by Classic Italian masters. What made her truly unique was the sea of freckles across her skin. Some may call them imperfections, but to him on her they were as opposite as they could be. Each seemed to add character, add innocence, add desirability to her flesh. He ached to read across them like reading the constellations in the sky. He wished to reach to her and trace each one, sliding a finger across her skin until he could get her to giggle from the tickle.

He coughed suddenly, the effect of a dry mouth. Shaking his head clear he looked to the sun and saw that the morning was nearly over. She remained there at the well, still half clothed, still looking to him with that expression. The painting in front of him was not finished, but it was well on its way. She was complete, with only the surrounding objects to go. He had captured he again, but he was suprised with the level of perfection he did so. It was like he traced each freckle, measured each curve, and drew out each color. The only difference was her small nipples on the painting were flat and calm, but on her were erect and stiff.

He put his brush down and turned to her drawing out a smile. “We can take a rest, at least I need to take a rest,” he offered. “You can cover up, I think I don’t need you to be undressed as so, but I will still need you. Come, take a look.”

 

[Vailyn]

It was hard to not think or feel. It was impossible to seek the Lord and pray. Just the thought of reaching out to Him while she sat here, semi clothed in public made her cringe in distress. What right does she have to ask to understand what is happening to her let alone ask Him for understanding of this preposterous situation?

She's taken her life at the Abbey for granted. To be sure, she has always made note of those who mark her life and prayed for the well being of everyone there, but she did not realize how much strength she drew from the foundations of her life there. Life at the Abbey was far from simple and it was full of hard work. Yet the work did not seem so onerous because of those she worked with side by side. The ringing of the bells, prayers and meal times outlined the layout in which every person at the Abbey structured their lives. Between these pillars, lessons were taught or learned, work in the gardens took place, the ill were tended to with kind hands, scribes tended to old scrolls or created new copies, food was prepared in the heated kitchen, clothes to be sewn or mended, general cleaning and the animals watched over and fed. There was always something that needed to be done and a useful place for an extra pair of hands.

What has her life become since she's come back home?

A lazy one where she is turned away from helping with general chores and housework. She is not encouraged to learn anything or to do any work. She must argue or command others just to help with the herb garden and use her knowledge of healing. She's even begun to feel wrong for falling in love with her Father's library and making use of the books within.

How does anyone bear to live their life by only waking, eating, walking and sleeping? Surely there must be more than this to a noblewoman's life? Is she expected to do naught but marry a stranger and give birth to a child? Despite her eighteen years of living and learning, more than once, Allora felt as though she was a child still.

She could feel her spirits droop wearily into a fog and pinched herself hard to shed the anxious lethargy. A puff of air rushed out of her from the pain she caused.

No more of that. Allora soundly chided herself.

Instead, she tried to take in her surroundings and really see what was in front of her. To root herself in the present and deal with her doubts in private. She was never one to dash around with her heart on her sleeve. She's much more used to looking for a solution and working to fix the problem. There wasn't much she can do to fix her current dilemmas here and it only made her heart deaden to think of it.

Her eyes fell down on her hands resting on a satin sea of rich emerald greens. The slender fingers and polished shell pink nails look dainty and feminine. A frown skates across her features. She's never thought of herself as feminine. She's much more used to seeing streaks of dirt, stains from ink and plants, and calluses from working on any manner of things at the Abbey. How easily the evidence of a life she has known has faded away.

Near the seat was a bucket of water with a bathing sponge. Two dozen beautiful roses and carnations floated on the surface of the water and their clean scent drifted above. Each flower appeared to be in full glorious bloom and the gathered flirting pink, daring red, wintry white and cheerful yellow made a stunning combination. For the first time that day, Allora smiled.

Blue-green eyes followed the patchy stalwart green grass and spritely wildflowers down to the Master Artist. He wore thin leather slippers that hardly seem to cover his large feet. She blinked when she noticed one of his toes flexing inside the slipper and the point of the toe seem to stretch the leather enough to make a hole in it. The silly image lit her eyes with a tiny bit of humor. His loose tan trousers strained over his knees and, she gulped, between his sprawled legs. It seemed as if she could see something there. It didn't seem possible that the sturdy long male organ she had seen could possibly fit beneath... She blushed and swept her eyes up his plain brown tunic with the lacing at his neck undone. She could see curling dark hair showing in open space and wondered what it would feel like.

She shook her head slightly, sat up straight and squared her shoulders. Paint! Think about paint! Look at all the paint marks and spots that have dripped, dropped and splattered his tunic and trousers. A tunic worn without a shirt, making it easy for Allora to fill her curious eyes with his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Even with the paint smears on his forearm, she could see his muscles tighten and stretch as he worked.

Allora lost a fair bit of time just watching different parts of his body move as he worked. Nothing the way his unruly dark hair started to grow damp and cling to his neck. Holding back a laugh when she saw him swipe sweat from his forehead and leaving a line of colors on his it and the hair he pushed back. She liked how focused he became once he starts to paint. The way he loses himself in each stroke, dab and line. She envied him his passion for his art. A sudden strong desire to take the washing sponge from the bucket and clean him of his heedless colorful disaster took hold of her. Surprising in its strength and oddly exhilarating at the thought of doing something as simple as bathing another.

Before she knew it, Nicholas called her over to look at the painting in progress and that she could cover herself. She blushed fiercely in embarrassment! Somehow she had totally forgotten her state of undress! Somehow she had lost track of time and place as she observed the artist.

Allora put her arms into the thin straps of the cream chemise and drew it up to cover her sun stroked, warm and tingling bare torso. The silky material easily slid up her body and gave her an illusionary cover. It merely clung to her round firm breasts and emphasized her proudly pert nipples. The green dress sleeves were harder to return to their normal state. She had to stand up and pull the dress up higher on her waist and then tuck the sleeves over her shoulders. Making a dreamy green frame over the cream chemise and hugging down the sides of her delicate curves.

Shyly, she made way over to the artist and looked at the canvas. Her hand raised towards the portrait and seemed to reach out to touch it. She had thought that it would be a wanton display of her private parts but instead he had drawn her to be a gloriously happy and glowing lady. It seemed as though she shined. The play of light in her golden brown hair with its teasing hints of pale yellow and dark auburn. Her eyes were half closed but tilted in hidden glimmer of laughter in bright blue-green eyes. It seemed as though she held a wonderful secret. One that she held close to her heart by the way her teeth bit down over her rosy lower lip. A graceful line of her neck, proud lift of her shoulders, and a dusting of her freckles showing over her nose, cheeks, neck and chest. She's never thought of her breasts as being seductive or sensual but the way he has painted them--they are. Even she wanted to reach out and touch the round mounds. The brilliance of her emerald gown paled in comparison to her unladylike deshabille.

He made it look like it wasn't an awful, tainted thing.

Nicholas made her a stunning object of femininity.

Without care and a dazzling smile, Allora turned towards him, jumped to wrap her arms around his neck and hugged him delightedly with her whole body!

"I do not know if I deserve to be painted so well! I do not know how you can see something so stunning in someone like me but you make this nightmare ordeal into something beautiful. You ease the darkness I feel in my heart. You paint me as though I am a fairytale creature with endless glory. Oh, thank you! Thank you, Nicholas! Thank you!"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Nicholas was stunned. Stunned by her words, stunned by her embrace, even stunned by how she called him by name. The only reaction came naturally, as his arms raised up and held her closer to him. Even through the rough cloth of his tunic and her billowing satin dress, he could feel the heat of her body against him. It matched the heat of his own body rising, including the growing flushness across his whiskered cheeks.

He had hoped she would find the painting welcomingly, hoping he could see that beauty she held. Her reaction though was like none he could expect, none he had ever had. Embracing him was like she was embracing the work of art in front of them.

“I did not paint you as a fairytale,” he said caressing her back as he held her. “I saw not the nightmare in your eyes. I didn’t see fear. I didn’t see heartache. I paint what I see, nothing more. You see something of beauty because I see beauty. You hid nothing from me, and you see what you show me. If it is a nightmare you feel, then … well … I do not know anyone who deserved more to be painted so well.”

He felt his heart pounding harder in his chest. The warmth in his cheeks rising. With this cherub so close to him, his mind suggested the unspeakable. He leaned back to look at her directly, to see into those light pools of her eyes. To almost ask a question his body felt it needed to ask.

However, reality stole him that this was a lady. The distraction coming from a smudge of blue that faulted her pale cheek. The paint! Leaning back further he looked down and the loose colored oil that fell on his tunic as he worked now found themselves onto the Lady’s dress. The green was now streaked with yellows, reds, blues, and all the colors in between. “Oh Bloody Hell, it will be ruined!”

 

[Vailyn]

The leap of blood chasing happily down her veins became a wilder, heated thump of heart that battered against her ribcage when Nicholas wrapped an around her lower back and held her close. The heat of his strong body quickly overwhelmed her own and her skin felt as though it was on a slow burn. Her head rested on his shoulder with his neck a bare eye blink away. His voice rumbled into her ears and she could feel his voice vibrate along her own. The scent of him was sharp and touch of woodland with a husky tone that made that mysterious warmth in her womb deepen.

She could have swear that she could feel his rough fingers through her dress. His comforting caress felt as though it shivered across her bare skin, caused her to tighten her hold on him, and press her thinly covered chest closer to his. Allora wondered if he could feel her heart bumping into him, it beat so fast and hard.

Nicholas pulled away and she had to fight to resist the urge to stay. He stared into her eyes and he seemed to be asking her something. She wished he would say it aloud. She did not know if she had an answer but she knew she would tell him anything.

Suddenly his eyes lost a bit of the shine of their shared joy and narrowed down upon her cheek. Before she knew it, he was pulling away and looking down at her clothes.

“Oh Bloody Hell, it will be ruined!”

She looked down and saw the smattering of paints that decorated her dress and bared skin. The multitude of riotous colors on the satin and silk materials should have made her feel wary but it just caused her to laugh! Allora leaned up to lay a kiss on his flushed, bristle rough cheek and was amazed at her own daring.

"I do not care if the dress is ruined. Jane and I will work to see if it can be salvaged. Did you not say that the painting is mostly finished? Besides! Now I look as though I have been at work as well. We are a matched set, sir." she teased him. Unable, unwilling or perhaps both to let go of the lightness in her heart. She did not want anything to make it as dark as it was again.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

When she examined her dress, he couldn’t help but to watch her take it all in. His hands still remained on her sides, allowed by the way he sat on the stool and she stood surveying the disaster of her dress. The color on her dress seemed to symbolize her now more colorful mood, and it was easily irresistible to watch her take in this new problem.

But then, all that changed.

The moment she kissed his cheek, the moment her laughter came across the air, the moment she gave a gentle tease, he was lost. He felt near dizzy, heated, and eager. It built into a passion that transcended what he would feel from his art. What this feeling that took him wasn’t foreign to him, he knew what it was. Into his own consciousness he was realizing that this tender creature had stopped being what he known her to be. She was no longer the model for a portrait, or a lost woman in the woods, or another tortured piece of Lord Blackwood's carnal needs. Allora found a place inside him that a man only reserves for one.

When she spoke, his eyes locked onto hers, and the words passed into his mind but failed to distract from his thoughts. Two souls, bound by duty to the Lord of the manor, forced to endure indiscretion, but still able to find reason to smile. “Yes,” he said kindly in response. “We are a matched pair.”

But she is the Lady. She is set to be married to that of her stature in society. He shall have no other reason than that to remain focused on the task at hand. “If you are not so tired, I can finish with you quickly to release you to salvage this dress. What remains I can complete without needing you to poise. The well, the surroundings, the basin, and such. Would just need you to set so I can finish your arms.”

Then with a laugh he thought, “and one more thing.” He reached to his pallet, swabbed a glob of purple with his pinky finger, and smeared the tip of her nose. “There.”

 

[Vailyn]

Allora watched like a silly goose as Nicholas smeared purple goo on her nose. She couldn't help but laugh as she tried to see the paint by crossing her eyes towards her nose. She looked down at her messy gown and thought about wiping it away on the already messy material. Then a thought ballooned in her mind and she peered at the target from beneath her lashes. She edged closer to him as he turned his attention back to the canvas. When she was close, she called his name. "Nicholas?"

It felt thrilling to say his name! He turned towards her absently and noticed how close she stood. "Yes?"

"Hold still please..." She leaned towards him and their faces drew closer. Allora took a figurative leap and rushed to rub her nose on his tunic. She ended up smearing the paint onto his tunic and the bit of his chest that's left open by the lacing. The curling light hair there tickled her nose and she sneezed-laughed-sneezed-giggled as she ran back to the stool and sat down with lady like decorum.

She could still feel wet paint on her nose. She picked up the washing sponge from the bucket and wrung out most of the water before washing off the purple smear that crossed her nose. Droplets of water fell onto the cream chemise and caused the silky material to cling to her breasts. Since she's started to wash, Allora set herself to clean away the paints that dotted her arms. Trying to wipe the paints on the gown's skirt only caused them to spread farther.

Feeling the heat of the sun heating the top of her head and stroking her bare skin, it was nice to feel the cool water ease the heat. She placed the sponge on the ground and played with the beautiful blooms floating in the bucket. Drawing a rose to her nose, she inhaled it's sweet fragrance.

An hour passed in idyllic ease as she sat for the Master Artist to paint in her limbs. She found her mind drifting towards the painter and wondering what his life is like.

What was it like for him growing up? Does he have siblings? I wish I had siblings! Did he go to school to learn about art? Did he like his teacher? I wonder if he's traveled? I have only known the Abbey, the Smallton village and here. He must be bored to be forced to spend a long stretch of time with me. What does he like to read? What are his dreams? His favorite color or song? There are so many things I do not know about him!

"Lady Allora," Nicholas called her name several times. She blushed as she brought her attention back to the present and met his gaze. He smiled. "You can go back to the castle. I can finish the rest without you."

Suddenly feeling shy, Allora nodded in agreement and left to go back to her rooms and change into something more comfortable. Jane came upon her in the front hallway and gasped when she saw the dress, "Whatever in the world did you do to your gown!?!"

Allora tried to smooth down the satin gown that needed none and plucked at the folds. She shrugged. "A mishap with paints. Do you think we can salvage it? I do not care if I never see it again but I do not wish to anger Father."

With many muttered words and deprecations, Jane nearly yanked Allora up to her rooms and quickly disrobed her. "I'm going to send Maddy up to set a bath and snack for you. You're a frightful mess yourself, young lady! You stay here and get yourself clean while I see what I can do to clean this pile of rags back into the fancy pieces they be."

She pulled on a thick cotton robe and sat in a chair to read while she waited for Maddy. A while later, a timid knock on the door preceded the opening door and a covered head that peeked inside. "Miss? I mean Lady. My lady, are you ready to bath and eat?"

Allora smiled at the bashful servant and nodded. With a small sweet smile of her own, Maddy and several women servants brought in a large wooden bathtub and filled it with a mix of hot and cold water. A sprinkle of rose scented salts were thrown into the mix and a gentle fragrance filled the room. Though she was not used to being pampered in her bath, Allora let Maddy help her wash her body and hair. Then once she was wrapped in her robe and seated before the vanity, Maddy brushed her hair free of tangles and knots.

It was slow going but with smiles and questions, Allora found out that Maddy was the newest addition to the servant quarters at the castle. Her parents were still living and very proud of her for getting such a good position. She's the oldest of seven living children and hoped to marry her childhood sweetheart Tom but worried that he will not wait for her. She loved yellow daffodils, sweet pudding and the first breath of spring. She's never seen a castle before she came to Blackwood and still manages to get lost sometimes. Looking into the mirror, Allora realized that Maddy looked eerily like herself. Their features were quite similar and it would be easy to mistake one for the other if they were dressed the same.

"Maddy! Look at us." Allora smiled at her in the mirror. "We could be sisters! I hope that means you will be my friend. I have always wanted a sister."

The girls smiled at each other and shy Maddy could not resist Allora's genuine warm heart. Everyone knew that the young lady had a heart of gold and none of them wished her harm. Now Maddy knew why and felt the same. She nodded in bashful agreement with the young woman of the house. Allora's heart lightened more. Though the day had started with a heavy heart, it looked to end with a happily full one. She was finally making new friends and connections. She was not so alone after all.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Lord Blackwood

The lord remained seated on the soft chair in the sitting area of his study. He swirled a glass, patently waiting for the right moment to come. A short time ago, he was introduced by his physician to a medication called laudanum, and now the right occasion leads him to take it when no pain alchemy is necessary. For Lord Blackwood, laudanum helps to enhance certain pleasures. Yet, it is not immediate, and one must time such pleasure appropriate to the experience. Indulgence is the right given by God to men like him. Tonight expects to be an experience that one will want to enjoy to its most pleasurable and most indulgent.

The sitting room was elegantly dark, assisted by an early evening storm. Like the storm itself, Blackwood had a growing eagerness over these short few days since the artist began to work his skills and now he will be able to burst forth his wantonness like that of the storm itself. Firelight and candles added the only brightness to this hall. Such flames made the dark feel warm and drier than the air outside, but also added a dance to the light around the room as well. Lord Blackwood had the room prepared appropriately for this evening, the single sitting chair, the easel across the room, all tables and pedestals removed except for his needs at the desk. He had his men lay out the full rug made of the finest of bear and wolf furs exported in from the Russian lands. It was amongst the most expensives things he purchased himself, but nothing to him felt better on his naked flesh than that material. The room was so arranged well before nightfall, in preparation for the nicest of hedonisms.

Before the Lord arrived to the room, his requirements were laid out to his man to ensure. The artist was to cover the painting and place it on the easel. Madeline was to await the lord standing at the ready. Fuentes, then, was to stand outside the sitting room door, and wait for further command, as long as that took. Once the Lordship arrived and felt the time was appropriate, Madeline would be the one to reveal the painting. All to be orchestrated appropriate to his plan.

Passing the artist at the door without a word or acknowledgement, Blackwood appraised the room, and found all had met his expectations. The only thing not to his liking was the maid, who seemed to stand stronger than she had in the past. Not defiant, but no longer timid. Somewhere she discovered confidence, or possibly even happiness. He was no fool, she didn’t come to him tonight eagerly, that would not be why he chose her to begin with. Yet that light in her eye concerned him, and needed to be put out quickly.

Rather than waiting until later like he might normally, he removed all his clothing as soon as they were alone, and only draped a robe over his shoulders before taking his seat. It was not like this was the first time she had seen him naked, but his quickness to reveal himself had the effect he hoped and her smile became a frown. There was likely nothing attractive about his older, greying, paunchy form to this girl, but he cared little if she found him attractive, not tonight.

Of course, not until he was ready.

The time could have been moments. It could have been hours. The time was now. The maid had lost most of her will over this waiting period. The fear grew as she grew tired of standing still. That was what he hoped to see, really, and the more she looked concern the more he grew excited. Lord Blackwood raised his hand, and waved it to the girl, “Remove your clothes.”

“S-sir?” Her voice wavered deliciously

Speaking slowly, sternly, and with little patience he repeated. “Remove … your … clothes.”

She gave a hard swallow, then her hand moved quickly to the buttons of the dress. She only opened the collar a small ways, then lifted the dress and her apron up with a flourish. She was left with only unattractive under garments. As unerotic as she did the dress she pulled those from her body, and quickly tossed them into a bundle next to her. She then returned to her stance, hand to side, chin slightly lifted.

Blackwood’s face and jaw hardened. “You disappoint me, Madeline. When I am finished with you, you are to speak with Ellen about the way she presents herself. Not like some girl undressing for her mother, but a proper woman would for one she cares for. I expect next time you do better. Do you understand me?”

The maid seemed confused, but his tone seemed to be received. She nodded slowly in agreement. That issue addressed, Blackwood could now appreciate his prize.

While he had revealed himself to her previous, this is the first that he had been able to see her in full. As with his daughter, this girl was golden locked, with soft features. Her neck was slim and her skin fair. The lighter freckling ended where he would expect, at the nape of her neck. She had fine legs, fine arms, thin stomach, and a smooth rounded hips. He spent little time admiring her breasts, as that was how he wished the true comparison to the artist’s work would continue to become, Her mons were nested behind a flush of black hair, darker so than that on her head, and thicker than he expected. It made her appear older, more worldly than he prefered. Yet the precautions he took upon hiring the girl and the demands he put on her reassured him that if he so chooses she would remain untouched by man behind that nest.

“Now,” he asserted, “reveal the painting for me.”

She gave a quick nod, and turned away from the lordship. He now was blessed with a view of the smooth curve of the maid’s rump. Tight and shaped nicely with her wispy legs. She reached for the cloth hiding the painting, and tossed it out and back as instructed to keep from damaging the curing paint.

Upon seeing the work of art, Lord Blackwood groaned gutterly. As much as he envisioned his daughter, as much as he wondered what hid beneath her garments, as much as he believed that the artist could capture what he could only assume; the Lord was not ready for what sat in front of him. She always had eyes that must have come from generations in the past, but Allora looked so much like her late mother when he first met her. This painting only firmed his imagination. The cascade of freckles that washed over her body, the curve of her her luscious breasts, capping off to the pink tips of nipples. His child was magnificent, greater than her mother even.

Madeline, after revealing the painting, remained looking at it. Her profile flickered with the firelight. She moved closer to the painting, obstructing the lord’s view. He slapped the leather of the chair his his palm. She squeaked, spun to face him, her eyes growing wide like one being caught with a stolen loaf of bread. She even had this cute way of turning her fingers into a fist, like one who is nervous but trying to be strong. How precious she was, how luxurious she would be.

“Stand next to it,” he commanded.

She only had a short way to go, but as she did, she stiffened. Gone was the definite, strong girl that was trying to be strong when he first stared her down. Now, he could get a good look at the two of them, do a stronger comparison of his two gems. In his laudanum enriched mind, conflict arose.

“No,” he started just above whisper. “It’s not right.” His voice was above a mumble now, and she looked confused towards him. “You are not right. You are not her, you don’t look like her.” Her eyebrows knit, and shoulders stiffened. It may not makes sense to her, but to him it meant everything. “Come,” he waved, “Come here. Sit here.” He patted his naked thigh. “I will show you.”

She reluctantly moved towards him, than he slapped his thigh harder, and she moved to find her seat. He places his arm around her naked hip and pulled her back against his chest. As she sat, she closed her naked thighs together and placed her hands onto her lap.

“See?” He pointed. “Alloras breasts. They are like perfect globes. Yours?” His hand moved up and cupped the flesh softly, letting his finger linger over the nipple. “Like rain on glass, ready to drop slowly with time.”

Her arms restricted his access, so while one hand caressed her flesh, the other took hers and moved them to her sides. “Yours is capped with kisses of chocolate.” He leaned to breathe over her neck, “Allora’s with sweet unripe berries. Do you see?”

She seemed to struggle with the closeness of his voice, unsure if she should hate that his breath was there. Yet now she looked towards the painting, something began to melt in her reluctance. Slowly she yielded to agree, and nodded her head.

Blackwood was no fool, he saw her reactions, saw what triggered them as such. He plotted his actions, and grinned as the idea of it grew; growing with his own excitement. “And while your lovely little marks of your skin, hers rides down to her breasts. Isn’t it so?” His hand continued to caress the breast, waiting to feel the rubber flesh harden from his ministrations.

She nodded slowly again, her breath shaking.

“I wonder what else is different between the two of you. Haven’t you wondered as well?” He turned his head to look towards her face that remained locked onto the painting. Leaving her breast, his hand moved slowly over her stomach. “Or do you know what differences lie below? You are her maid, aren’t you? You have seen her dress or bathe?”

She looked downward now watching his hand, but she was able to nod.

“When did you last see her? Where?” He stopped his hand just at the curve of her mons.

“Bath … sir. Today.” She studdard her words. She began to shiver. The delicious fear growing.

“You saw all of her then? She is as beautiful? Even … here?” His hand slid to her intimates. The soft forest of hair that covered her innocence was easily navigable and he teased at her womanhood. “Did you think she was beautiful there too?”

She closed her eyes, and turned her head away. Yet she didn’t answer.

His finger breached her opening. It was warm, but dry. “Did you think she was beautiful?” he asked again. He could have demanded it, but he guessed something else instead.

She nodded slowly, her breath growing heavier.

He slid his finger into her until he reached her maidenhead, stopping to leave that for later. He drew his finger out again, choosing to move the fat finger across her soft button. “You thought she was beautiful. So much so, you enjoyed seeing her undressed. Didn’t you.”

She nodded again, her breathing growing faster.

“You wished to touch her, like I am touching you now. You wished she touched you.”

The suggestion caused her to tense severely, to fight her answer. She closed her mouth, pursing her lips. She pressed her eyes together. She shook her head defiantly.

He knew otherwise, because as she fought that which was dry moistened. “Don’t lie to me, little one,” he chastised with a voice that sounded more sing-song than anger. “I can tell. You are as enchanted with her as I am with you, you wish it was her touching you. You desire her.”

She turned her head, her face flush red. “I am sorry, sir. She is … so beautiful.” She opened her thighs slightly, creating better access for him. There was slight movement in her hips.

His smile grew, like it does every time he realizes he has won the game. Now that he had her, now that she opened up to him, he began to move assertively with his finger. “No apologies, Madeline,” he sneered. “If you chose to touch her … or for that matter any woman in this castle … you will not be judged harshly by me. Those who do judge you harshly will have me to speak to. I will EVEN keep these immoral thoughts from your family.” Sometimes when he gains such a way, he can become aroused; but having this young woman froth up on his finger brought about his greatest of need. “In return, you will be Allora’s surrogate to me. Is that understood?”

She didn’t answer, looking at him with a sense of horror. She realized now that she relented to his exquisite power, further than she had to date. Now it was time to take that.

Blackwood rose to his feet quickly, Madeline nearly tripping over by the abruptness. He grabbed her hips from behind, moved her to the rug, and pushed her down onto it. She squeaked, she yelped, but when she landed face down on the rug she went quiet. She tried not to show any fear, tried to take what she knew what was coming but those hands still balled up into fists. The way she lay procumbant before him, she would be feeling the full enjoyment of the rug’s soft hairs against her supple skin. So it is he to feel her skin against his deliciously.

He crawled on top of her prone form, and pushed her legs open. “Think of me as her finger, her wider stiffer finger.” He pressed his hips harder towards her until his stiff head touched her moist opening. With her laying so flat to the floor,he could feel his bullocks brush against the soft fur rug that brought a scrumptious tingle. “And I will think of your innocence as mine.”

He pressed forward and broke through her barrier. She screamed into her rug. Her fists grabbed for the fur of the rug. She shook slightly, but then settled. The girl was now a woman, in every way. She was tight, she was warm, and she was wet. He slid his member in a rhythm into her opening, feeling his twitching member already beginning to reach it’s hunger point. Each time he pushed into her he grunted into her ear.

He lay ontop of her completely. Her small round rump ground into his pelvis. His chest flat against her back. He moves his arms under hers, pushing her arms to slide upwards above her head. As his pace quickened she matched with similar grunts as the air pressed out of her lungs. Otherwise she seemed unaffected by his assault.

He, though, unrelented. This prize so much like his own child now was his. His child. He remembered his child in the portrait. Looking up at the painting, his felt the pressure build in his loins. With a grunt, his seed shot in a couple weak pulses into her young body. He remained insider her to coat her insides with batter until his breath slowed to a sweaty gasp.

He lifted off her body, and rose to his feet. Exquisite indulgence indeed. He still had his robe over his shoulders, forgotten in his need. She remained still on the rug, undoubtedly without finding her own climax, but that wasn’t his mission. As she lay there he felt an anger grow in his gut. She was supposed to be a replacement for his daughter, his innocent daughter. Yet he will never see his girl like this. Sprawled face down naked on the floor. Legs open slightly, arms spread, and her head laid to not even look his way. No, his daughter will never allow him to see her in such a way. Some replacement. Some surrogate.

Angerly, Lord Blackwood went to the door of his room, opening it to find the artist across the hall asleep. He grabbed the taller man by the collar and forced him to follow. “Tomorrow night, you will paint Allora in this room. Capture all of this as it is here. Pose her exactly like the maid is now. Dressed exactly like the maid is now.” The girl was as he left her, and she didn’t even react to the artist here. The artist appeared shocked, but listened. “Do you understand, Spaniard? Like she is lying now.”

The artist didn’t respond. Only stood agape. Blackwood yanked on the Fuentes’s collar, and that got his attention. He nodded in understanding.

“Good,” Blackwood said. “When she wants to acknowledge you, let her know she needs not work tomorrow.” He pulled his robe closed before heading to the door. “Since you need not paint during the day, seems you are free as well. I suggest you ready yourself to not fall asleep on duty.”

Before he made it to the stairwell, Blackwood stopped, turned, and returned to the study remembering the laudanum for a nightcap.

Entering the room, he found the artist, carrying the maid with her dress draped over her body. He seemed indignant, but surprised by the Lord’s return. “I .. I am just taking her where she can rest,” he studdard.

Blackwood laughed, “My boy, do what you wish. She is ready to be used by any, and you have my permission.” Drink in hand, he left to find his own bed.

 

[Vailyn]

Servants of Blackwood Castle

Jane

Jane waited until Lord Blackwood had climbed up the stairs before entering the study. She saw Nicholas trying to carry a naked Maddy. Her blue eyes were open but deadened by shame and pain. She didn't even try to cover herself or hold onto Nicholas as he tried to get a good grip on her. Jane tamped down the anger the flooded her in a rush. It didn't matter that all the servants knew what was in store for Maddy. That didn't make it easier to see or bear.

"Here. Help me get this around her." Nicholas put Maddy on her feet and held her up as Jane put Maddy into a thick cotton robe and tied the belt securely around her. She cupped Maddy's face in her hands and looked into her eyes. "You will be okay, Maddy-girl. The worst is over now. I'll take care of you. You wait here with the Master Artist for a minute and I'll be back. Alright, dear?"

Jane waited for the young woman to nod, smiled softly and sent Nicholas a silent question. He nodded. She left to let the head butler know what is going on and that the study will need to be cleaned. There were bloodstains and dribbles of seed marking the furs.

When she came back to the study, Jane found Nicholas holding Maddy in his lap and holding her close as she cried quietly. The artist looked out of place and unsure of what to do but he gainfully tried to give some sort of solace to the devastated servant girl.

"Maddy? Maddy, look at me. Now, come on. We can't stay here. Let's get you to your room and clean you up. That will make you feel better." Maddy followed Jane's quiet commands and clung to the older woman with a death grip on her arm. Jane mouthed a heartfelt Thank you to Nicholas before they left the study.

Jane & Maddy

In Maddy's room, Jane helped Maddy wash her face, neck, belly, between her legs and thighs with a wash cloth. A thoughtful servant had left a hot pot of water and a bucket of cold in the room. Then Jane helped Maddy into a plain nightgown and held her close in the bed. She cradled her as she cried hard tears and wailed her pain. She waited out the heavy silence full of unspoken shame and guilt. When the young woman's tears ceased to fall, Jane asked Maddy if she wanted to talk.

She said nothing.

But Jane knew that it was better to get it all out then to let it fester. Jane spoke softly of her own memories of first love with a handsome gardener. How much she loved him and thrilled at the stolen moments they had managed to find to touch and kiss. She confessed that her first time with her lover was the worst act of love she had ever had! He was inexperienced and clumsy. All rough hands, eager mouth and no control over his manly bits. For her first time, the kisses leading up to the loss of her virginity were the best part of all. He had kissed her until they were both working to breath, and then he pushed up her skirts, pulled down her smalls clothes and jabbed his thing into her! It hurt like the blazes! He just pumped away for a few and then burst warm fluids into her tender body. They tried it again a few times but he didn't really get better and the love they had failed beneath that hard bit of knowledge.

"He's married to Sophie now and you know what?" Jane's voice became one of secrets and conspiracy. "Sophie says he's barely gotten any better at it and it's been years since our time together!" Her warm, full bosom shook with laughter. She could feel Maddy's body relax as she shared her memories.

"Everyone has a first time. If you are lucky, it's sizzling and wonderful moment that you'll always remember. More likely than not, you'll have a clumsy meeting of bodies and not like to think of it much at all. I certainly did not find any pleasure in the act until a visiting nobleman took me to bed here at the castle. Now. He was a much older man but he knew how to touch a woman!" Jane fanned herself with a hand. "The whole time he was here, I only served his needs. He taught me much about my body and how good it can be between a man and woman. Would you like to learn? It's not all bad you know."

She stroked Maddy's light brown hair with gold strands and waited for the girl woman to answer. Maddy's voice was so soft that she almost failed to hear the her speak. "I was wicked, Jane. Wicked. Something must be wrong with me."

Jane frowned and squeezed the girl in a comforting hug. "Now what foolishness is this? Why are you wicked?"

Maddy pushed her face into Jane's bosom and spoke but Jane could not understand a word of it. She pulled Maddy's face away and asked her to say it again. "The lord..he...He spoke of the young lady. He asked about the way she looks without clothes and he--" Maddy's eyes scrunched tight and a flood of words came out. "He touched me down there and I was dry. He didn't like it. He talked about Lady Allora and made me think about her body and I got wet down there. He said that I wanted her to touch me there. That I wanted her finger to go in me and I did. I DID! I got all hot and fevered at the thought of her touching me. She's so beautiful and he's so mean and ugly. I knew he was going to take me but he made me want the young lady and that's wicked! Wicked!"

Jane waited, her thoughts running wild with Maddy's revelation and she made a choice. The tears did not last as long this time and hiccups erupted out of Maddy a few times. "Maddy-girl, you are not wicked. It's normal as the day is long for you to feel desire. Some desire only men. Some only desire women. Some desire both. Maybe you are one like the last. Do you want to find out?"

Maddy's body stilled.

"Do you want to learn the way it should feel when you have intimate relations? With a woman or a man?"

Maddy's body jerked in surprise.

"Maddy, what the lord did to you tonight is not the way it has to be. Sex does not have to be harsh or bad. I am going to touch you, Maddy. I'm going to touch you and teach you how sex can feel good. If you want me to stop at any time, all you have to do is say stop."

Maddy did not move away from Jane. She nodded.

Jane adjusted her hold to have Maddy lying on the bed and her pressed along the her side. Her knowing fingers trailed over Maddy's face and neck. They roamed over her body: grazing lightly, caressing with soft circular motions, tapping her nipples until they furled into nubs, pulling on the nipples until Maddy gasped, cupping the young woman's pillowy breasts, gliding over ribs, pressing on her hips and scrapping nails over gown and into the inner thighs. Maddy spread her legs apart. Her hips thrust up towards Jane's touch and Jane did not let her down. A hand swept beneath the gown and teasing fingers found their way into a wet playground. Jane took a cloth covered nipple into her mouth and suckled and lapped on it as her fingers teased Maddy's clit until her body spasmed. Then she shoved two fingers into the overflowing, pulsing pussy and set a driving pattern with hooked fingers until Maddy's gasps turned into confused moans and ended with an stifled cry of release.

The red haired woman cooed as she held the shuddering young servant. She waited Maddy's body to calm before she asked, "Did you enjoy that?"

Maddy nodded.

"Do you feel wicked?"

Maddy nodded her head. Then she shook it. Jane giggled until Maddy joined her bubbles of laughter. Jane hugged Maddy tight and asked, "Do you want to learn more?"

Maddy took a while before nodding.

"Do you trust me?"

Maddy nodded.

"Then come along, Maddy-gril. We will continue the lesson. Just remember, all you have to do is say stop and it will. Alright, Maddy-girl?"

Maddy nodded.

Jane, Maddy & Nicholas

The night was dark and still as the two women walked the halls to the artist's room. Jane had explained to Maddy what they were going to do and how she should follow her lead. Jane opened his door and peeked into the room. The full moon gave plenty of light to see by and she easily found the target in a naked sprawl on the bed. A sheet twisted around one leg and the blankets were bunched by the foot board.

They quietly entered the room and shut the door. Jane removed her robe and motioned for Maddy to do the same. Following Jane's instructions, Maddy sat on one side of Nicholas as Jane took the other. She watched with wide eyes as Jane tugged the sheet away from the artist's sleeping body. She's never actually tried to observe a man's body before. This was the first time she looked at one without glancing away.

The artist is a tall man with dark unruly hair that draped over his face and pillow in wavy locks. He had strong features and a strong chin shadowed by stubble. Slabs of muscle lined his broad shoulders, long torso and limbs. Somehow, he seemed bigger without clothes. The biggest surprise was what lay in the midst of a dark bush of hair between his legs. His manly bits were larger than Lord Blackwood's! Maddy couldn't see how anyone could take that into their body. It's not truly possible, is it?

Jane pointed to Nicholas' sleeping cock and took it into her hand. The other hand cupped the large sack and rolled it with her fingers. Jane licked her lips before taking a deep breath and inhaling the cock whole in one swoop. Only with a few draws of her talented mouth, he grew fast and fierce into full girth and length. It happened so fast that Jane could not handle swallowing it all and had to use both of her hands to grip and stroke the shaft as she sucked hard on the crown, laving the base with her tongue. Nicholas woke to the sound of his groans as his hips worked to fill the wet, sucking warmth that drew on him. His hands reached to grasp Jane's head and control her movements on his cock before he even opened his eyes.

The red headed servant met his sleepy brown orbs as her licked her way around the crown. She licked the seeping hole and smiled at the results. She sat up long enough to pull off her nightgown and throw it on the floor, straddled over his cock and slowly lowered herself onto hip. She moaned her pleasure as his large erection filled her hungry cunt. She rode him with slow, her hands busy with her plump chest, fingertips tweaking the nipples hard, making her own muscles clench on his cock and she lost herself in the heat of the moment.

A gasp drew both of their attention to the young woman in the bed. Jane smiled sensually at Maddy and called her over. She sank down to sit with Nicholas' cock deep inside her, the way it hit her depths made her moan, and her fingers shook a little as she pulled Maddy's gown off of her.

"Lay on the bed, Maddy-girl." Shy and discomfited by her nudity, Maddy held her hands over her chest and mound as she laid on the bed next to the artist. Jane leaned down to kiss Nicholas. They shared a long, deep kiss before she pulled away to whisper in his ear, "I brought Maddy here to learn how good sex can be. To have a considerate man fuck her young body and bring her pleasure. Will you do it?"

She pulled up, her breasts resting on his hard chest and she rocked on his body as she waited of his answer. Eventually, he agreed and she winked at him before they shared another long kiss. The thrusts of their tongues against each other matching the thrust of their groins smacking hard as each fought to reach a delightful end.

She came before he did with a sharp grunt and stillness that belied the way her inner muscles worked hard around his randy manhood. She pulled off of him and set her mouth to work furiously on his cock with hands, lips and tongue until he burst his released into her mouth and on her heaving chest.

With a satisfied smile, Jane asked Maddy, "Did you see how much we enjoyed ourselves?"

Maddy nodded, blue eyes dark with newly awakened needs and somewhat labored breathing of her own.

Together, Jane and Nicholas made love to Maddy and made her realize how sensitive everyday parts of her body were to a certain knowing touch. She learned how to kiss a man and a woman. She learned how a man's strong hands felt different from a woman's caressing touch. She learned how much she loved having her neck bitten, that the edge of her shoulder sucked on can make her shudder, that her nipples can make her feel straight down to her womb and toes, and that it was wonderous to have someone kiss and lick her in her private place. She learned what a man tasted salty and husky. She learned that a woman tasted tangy and sweet. She learned how to take a man into her mouth. She had to beg to feel more than fingers diving into her sleek warmth. She lost all sense of the world as she was stretched beyond reckoning and had her secret nub licked and kissed at the same time.

Maddy fell asleep completely satiated and exhausted with Nicholas cock still inside her, with his firm body pressed against her back and Jane's soft, curvy body cradling her front.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Sleep did not come easy for Nicholas. It was not that he was not tired, Jane had so expertly kept him going the night before, the energy built in him when he worked in the morning, and the attention he had to give Maddie following her meeting with Lord Blackwood. Even while that was going on through the door, Nicholas was falling asleep on the cold floor of the hall. Now, though, his mind raced with the massive ebbs and flows of this day. His pride over the painting was disrupted by pangs of shame for thoughts of growing feelings for his subject. His personal desire to continue his work duty now was tempered with guilt knowing that the Lord now uses the women of this household as play things, with his paintings being the inspiration. Now, he lays the night before having to ask of Allora to do what he would never ask a model to do, and now he must and hope she doesn’t think him so horrible.

Well after the last of the fireplace’s last ember goes black, sleep finally finds him, and he becomes lost in the darkness of his own mind.

In his dream, he lies back on the grass in the glen that he once painted Allora praying in. He tilted to look around the glen, the ground below him shifting with him. Looking towards his feet, he sees now there is Allora. She stands in her whimple, but instead of soft colors, it is black like she was truly taken to God’s sisterhood. Her blue-green eyes and her alabaster freckle covered face peaked out from the frame of holy cloths.

“My Master Artist,” she nearly sung. They weren’t words of a lady who looks down upon her servant, not like a nun to the Godfearing, but that a woman to her lover. She looked down his body, what he realized now was unclothed. He could feel the grasses reach up and caress him like fingers. Turning to peer at his face again, she reached for her wimple, and with a single pull left herself naked from the waist up. Every detail of her breasts were as real as they were in his painting, yet there they were in front of him. She knelt down at his side, bent down, and took his member into his mouth. Not how he would have believed, her lips moved with expertise and keen knowledge. He groaned heartedly, the quality of her skills sending him to the brink so quickly. His hands found her head, but unlike the soft fine hairs he expected they were thick, and curled. He felt his hips rise with a grunt and in an instant … his whole world went dark.

The light of this room was nothing of that of the glen, but once the shock of waking passed he could begin to see the room he is in. The pleasure had not changed, his hands still filled his hair, but a hard blink he saw it to be red. “Jane,” he gasped as she worked, almost pleading with her. She worked him hard and relentlessly until they were distracted by a gasp in the dark.He thought to cover up, but Jane did just the opposite. Maddy must had been there the whole time, and Jane must have brought her. With her nightgown off as well, Nicholas relaxed, and smiled warmly to the naked maid who laid next to him at Jane’s command. He felt the need to pull her close, to caress her, but Jane had another idea. She pulled him into a kiss, and whispered to him.

"I brought Maddy here to learn how good sex can be. To have a considerate man fuck her young body and bring her pleasure. Will you do it?"

“Only if it is something she wishes,” Nicholas responded, reaching to Maddy to stroke her face softly.

He split his focus between the brown haired maid to his side and the redhead above him. Jane was eager, as needy for him as she had ever been. She ground into his hips, bouncing madly towards her climax. When they reached their peak, her mouth felt like it engulfed him completely.

Nicholas rested, as Jane began to ready Maddy with soft kind words. Jane slid of him to the side opposite Maddy, and with a soft push on the shoulder, Nicholas turned to look Maddy directly. The move, as kindly as he intended, must of worried her and those soft eyes opened wider in fear.

He took her hands into his, easily moving them away from what she was shielding. “If ever I do something that hurts you, or makes you feel anything but pleasure, say the word, Maddy.” Moving her arms further from how she protected herself he revealed her soft supple body. She didn’t have Allora’s firmness, or Jane’s curves, but she was lovely none the less. He rolled her onto her back, shifting her more to the center. Sliding his hands along her arms to her sides, he moved down more to her feet, his eyes towards where she locked onto his. With a gentle smile he said softly, “say the word, Maddy.”

Nicholas’s hands lay on the side of Maddy’s knees, but his lips started down at her small ankles. He kissed his way up a shin until he felt the need to kiss his way up the next. He put his lips onto each naked knee going back and forth between them, until his tongue extended to give her just a light tickle on the inside of her knees. She giggled and kicked spontaneously, not doing him harm. He peered up to her, seeing her smile a little, but she had her knuckle in her mouth shyly not knowing what to expect. Jane, smiling down approvingly, slid her arm behind Maddy’s shoulder and allowing the younger girl to lay her head onto Jane’s breast.

His hands moved around to hold her under her knees, and he resumed kissing her up her legs. She mewed uncomfortably, twisting her legs in soft movements to the sides. As she did, he lifted under those knees, and it made her begin to part her legs. He moved further, kissing as he went, but the soft objections fell silent. Looking up her body, he saw Jane lifting Maddy’s head to her’s kissing her softly. It is something he had heard of, something he knew what took place, but this was the first he saw two women show such interest in each other right in front of him, and it made him more enthusiastic to say the least.

Turning his attention to the younger maid’s pelvis, he now parted her thighs enough to see her in all her glory. Her downy muffin curved to pink netherlips noticeably moist. She continued to accept his kisses, accepting Jane’s kisses, and her body readied for something more. His mouth reached the little nubbin lifted at the top of her sex, and she lifted her hips up to meet him. He could hear another mew come from her busy lips, but she didn’t try to stop him. When his mouth came across her opening he tasted the sweetness of her nectar, and his desire grew. He extended his tongue into sex, testing her body and driving further into her. He curled his tongue, reaching with it along the smooth surfaces. Maddy, at first a motionless bystander, began to lift her hips towards him. As he started to move in a smooth pattern in her, she met each with a light moan. As his eyes raised up, he saw Jane now had moved to suckle on Maddy’s small breast. Maddy’s eyes were closed, her mouth fell open, and she was lost in the pleasure. Her breath was getting shorter, and she squeaked a moan with each breath out. Nicholas opened his mouth wide, placing it across the whole of her mons, and sucked lightly while pressing his tongue forward. She sucked her breath in and held it; then she breathed out in a long shuddering moan. Nicholas could feel her spasm around his tongue and felt the rush of her climax into his mouth.

Knowing to move quickly in her state, he rose up and lie over top of her. While the next great challenge for her laid ahead, she approached it in a continued state of bliss, eyes closed mouth gasping for air. Jane relented her position, crawling over Nicholas towards where his legs began to intertwine with Maddy’s, He could feel Jane’s hands handle his re-hardened member, as she played the head to her moistness. Wordlessly, Nicholas pushed forward and quickly filled her completely. She sucked in a hard amount of air, struggling with the size of his shaft in her newly opened womanhood. He held steady to give her time to adjust, and Jane lent a hand to caress her stressed skin and his tensing scrotum. Maddy rose her arms up to Nicholas as she relaxed, sliding them under his arms, and lightly pulling him towards her. When her small breasts came in contact with his chest their combined warmth sent rumbles of feeling between the two of them.

Jane, with her hand still touching the two joined gentals, leaned up their bodies and whispered softly, “she is ready, Master Artist. Just be gentle.” While spoke to him, it was words to encourage her as well.

The pressure he placed on her hips was light, and slow at first. His movement grew in length and speed as she responded positively. She was tighter than any he had been with before, slick with moisture and incredibly warm, but still very tight. With his face resting above hers, he closed his eyes and let the her encompass him. She felt exquisite to him, felt undeniable, and so timid as well. Her body ripped under him, around him, against him. She was ebbing through feelings he knew she was unaware her body could feel. Having just been with Jane, he was capable of maintaining more control than her, but already the closeness was coming on.

He opened his eyes to look at her directly. In the dim light of evening, his vision was fooled with. He saw soft light curls from her head, the pale skin on her face, the small nose & chin, and even the smattering of freckles across her cheek. In that light, she looked so much like Allora. This realization made his heart begin to pound and his face flush. The vision of his lady underneath him brought to this height of passion rushed through all of his control. Trying to shut this out, he thrust his head into her neck, closing his eyes, and blocking out this thought. But it still threatened him. Her voice gave hints of what Allora could sound like, he imagined her breasts taking Maddy’s place against his chest, and most of all he envisioned her sex gripping his member tightly like it is now.

Nicholas tried to refocus his mind, opening his mouth and kissing and nibbling on Maddy’s skin. She reacted immediately, squealing through another sudden climax. He began moving faster in her trying to keep her going, to keep her at her peak. Just as he did, she said softly, between breaths, “My … Master .. Artist.”

And he was lost.



The night was long. After his first with Maddy, Jane and Nicholas continued to show her new pleasures. Sometimes they switched off with each other, sometimes all three would work together. He, at times, struggled to rise to another attempt, but all he needed to help was to allow his mind to mistake Maddy for Allora and his body conspired to continue. In the end, he wanted nothing more to know that Maddy was truly Maddy, and as they slowed from their last go she was satisfied by allowing him to come in from behind. In her last attempt, Maddy became engrossed in Jane’s body in front of her, and his hardness inside her until she cried to a he hardest climax of the night. Nicholas grew too tired, the night grew too late, and he fell asleep as they last finished. He embraced both the girls in front of them as they embraced each other. When sleep finally won over all.

 

[Vailyn]

The morning has been unremarkable. In a way, this was nice. Unlike the day before, Allora woke up with a light heart and happy disposition. She no longer felt lost. The problems that have come to the fore have not yet been solved, but they did not feel insurmountable. Just extremely frustrating and very confusing. Her whole world had been the Abbey and the people there.

This world. This life at the castle does not seem real. It feels immaterial and frivolous. The things that she has been exposed to recently made her feel... wicked. All these new thoughts and ideas are flooding into her, and she has no one to really talk to about them. It's not proper to talk to a man about such things and yet she feels more at ease with the Master Artist than anyone else. Though she has known the household servants longer and several of them are becoming friends, Allora feels more connected with the artist. Something about the way he sees the world makes her feel grounded. It's like the way they see the world compliments one another and sheds light to a whole new perspective.

Allora had tried to make herself useful but all of her efforts were warmly shooed away. Cook would only allow Allora to take her breakfast in the kitchen. She was not allowed to help out in anyway. An hour was spent in the herb garden. Another hour passed in the music room as she tried to teach herself a new composition on the harpsichord. She's never played one before but it was not too different from playing the organ at the Abbey.

Can one be excited and restless at the same time? She felt absurdly eager and she couldn't sit still. She felt driven to move. To be on the move and act. Why? She wasn't sure but she knew she couldn't wait to see the Master Artist again.

The morning has flown by in all of her activities and yet no one has come to collect her for another setting. Usually, Jane or the artist let her know where to go and when to meet. Yet, no word has reached her.

"I should go look for them myself!" Allora said to herself cheerfully. The next half hour was swiftly taken up by looking in Jane's room, the kitchen, sitting room, drawing room, library, study and other open rooms on the main floor. There was only one other place to look. She took a peek into her own room first to check and then went across the hall to Nicholas' room.

She knocked softly.

All she could hear was the loud thud of her heart echoing in her ears. Her cheeks felt oddly warm. Her fingers twined in the loose cotton drape of her simple skirts. A faint growling noise came from the room.

She knocked louder.

A louder grunting noise that sounded like "Come in" drifted to her over the loud thrum of her own heart. A grin blossomed over her full lips and her face flushed with clear excitement, Allora opened the door and stepped into the room.

"Nicholas, I was looking--" her bright chatter stopped as she realized what she was seeing. In the large poster bed, a tangle of limbs clustered together in the middle. She only saw enough to know who created the intimate pile of bodies and that was more than enough for her to see. Tangled, tousled locks of dark curls, bright red flames and a lighter hue of brown meshed together. The artist's head rose from the rest and their eyes locked together for a moment that stretched as far as eternity.

All of her bright, luminouscent cheer quickly vanished as a crushing feeling of betrayal locked its claws into her chest. Shock dulled her bright blue-green eyes and paled her face. The bright red blush looked like a garish splash of rouge mocking desire over her stricken form. She didn't say a word as she turned to walk out of the room and close the door.

The last thing she saw before she ran was the look of understanding coming into brown eyes.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Once again, when morning found Nicholas, it found him in a dream many men can only wish would come to them in sleep. After a difficult evening, an exhausting midnight, the heaviest of slumbers, Nicholas found himself waking to the softness of feminine flesh surround him half-covered by warm blankets.

His tired, sleep hungry bones let him remain slumbering until well into the morning sun, and what can be a cool & damp castle room is made warm by what lay in the bed. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes, but rested on his back. Jane had tucked her head onto one shoulder, face down with her magnificent breasts pressed into his chest and side. Her taut torso laid into him so that rarely was there a point where skin didn’t touch skin from the highest point of her chest to where her mons split to straddle his hip.

He felt Maddy laying similarly on his other side, not to mention her hand grasping his limply resting soldier, but had to open his eyes to see what felt so awkward with her. She lay more in a fetal curl, one leg under and one leg over his so that her still warm womanhood pressed into his thigh. One of her hands just held his member, no movement only grasping it like a child would a blanket. Her head lay on his chest, but her lips extending to brush the side of Jane’s breast, a near involuntary movement of her mouth. Whatever dream the cherub was in was probably a prolonged comforting pleasure.

He had every reason to be content. In the waking moments, he really was. He allowed his hands to curl up over their bodies. A finger traced the line of Jane’s backbone. A palm finding the dimple in Maddy’s rump. Their bodies so tender, so supple against his gave him every reason to feel joy; and in this start of a day, there was something relaxing in the freedom to touch these women without objection or without reservation. It was in that moment that his traitorous sub-conscious started to bring reality to this place, and it started with only a possibility:

If only Allora were here.

Something thumped in his mind, like a knock on the door. It made him tense. Jane must have felt it, because she shifted slightly. She turned so her nipple popped into Maddie’s mouth, who began nursing on it contently.

Nicholas, troubled by his own reaction wondered what man would want more.that what he experienced this night. More flesh than any man can handle, and so alluring as well. Alluring. A word that rolls in his head like the name itself. Allora.

The thought made his head pound again.

Jane reacted once more, and groaned, “mmmm come innnn.”

Confused at her words at first, the reason became clear with a new voice in this space. Her’s.

Allora entered the room and spoke, but none reached Nicholas’s ears. It was her voice. It was real. This was no dream.

He lifted his head to find her standing at the door. Her face alive, warm, and blushing with happiness; but only for an instant. In that instant he felt a thud deeper in his chest than the knocks his sub-conscious tried to get from him. Yet it was only an instant. In the fleeting seconds, that glow faded like the wine from a bottle, and replaced with sobering paleness.

She left the room as quickly as she entered, and Nicholas looked around him, Jane become more awake by the moment and Maddy losing the fight to stay in her dream. Yet now he saw what Allora saw, a carnal man driven by lust to bed two maids unabashed. Just like the lady’s, the Spaniard dark skin of his own face paled.

“Who was it?” Jane laid on her side, her hands under her head like a makeshift pillow, but her eyes awake and open.

“A-Allora,” he studdard.

She analyzed him with her eyes. She was looking for something in him. She rolled over and kissed him on the shoulder. Her smile was understanding, yet happiness for him. “Go after her.”

“What … what do I say?”

She smiled and shrugged. “Nothing. Ya only make it worse. Go to her and let her talk to you.”

It made no sense to him. It is not what one would do. To run after a woman you hold deep in your heart, that does make sense - but not for this matter. Not for a Lady. Not for just someone her father puts to work. To go after Allora would to suggest that a penniless painter would be anything more than a hired hand. He knew his place, she knew his place. To go after her would be to suggest that such a thing could be anything but what it is.

He sprung from the bed, senselessly disengaging himself from Maddy leaving her mewing in the loss. He found his trousers and a shirt on the floor, tossing them onto his body quickly. Jane watched with a blanket pulled up to her neck, but not afraid to keep her eyes on all the parts disappearing behind cloth.

“Anything else?” he asked as he buckled boots.

She smiled warmly and shook her head. “Last night, we came to yo. Not yourself to blame, sure. But let me be the one to tell her that, not you. You knew not your feelings for her.”

Stopping to tuck a shirt in he thought a moment then let slip sheepishly. “But I did, I kept seeing …” He looked towards Madeline, still fighting to stay asleep. “Those two, they look much alike.”

Jane looked to Maddy and smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Best you not tell her that. Neither of them.” A wicked little grin was on her face, but she waved at him “now shoo, get with ya.”

His heart raced. His mind dreaded what was to come. But he was determined now to find her, to go to her, and hope what lies ahead still leaves him with hope.

 

[Vailyn]

The hallway, stairs, foyer and other blurring spaces of color that should have been people and things passed without notice. Too many emotions warred for expression and release. Blue-green eyes sparkled in a sheen of tears and anger. Red flags burned on her cheeks and looked all the brighter for the pale white skin surrounding them. It seemed as though her heart twisted in disappointment even as it pummeled her ribcage.

She broke her nails as she tried to climb up her favorite rock by the lake. The tearing of the fragile yellow silk dress only garnered a disgruntled scowl. In a moment of inarticulate roars of intense emotions, Allora ripped the offending material, balled it up and threw it at the lake!

The offensive bit of bright yellow silk unfurled in the air and playfully billowed about with the brisk wind before flying back to curl over her face. Somewhere in the seconds between her voiceless roar and return of a faithful bit of silk, the volcano of feelings became a puff of smoke and died.

Allora pulled the whimsical piece of cloth from her face, plopped down onto the rock with her legs dangling over the edge and the cheerful yellow skirt bunched around her knees. She twined the silk around her finger as she fell into old habits and spoke her mind out loud.

"He's a man. Men and women do... that. I should not feel so angry because he's with someone he likes. Jane is a wonderful person. Maddy is nice. They're all good people. I should be happy. Why..." She wiped away a tear. Gave up wiped for repeated swiping as more of them fell. Tears are suppose to make one's heart lighter but hers only felt as though it was growing more heavy. She whispered brokenly, "Why does it hurt me for them to be happy?"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

“It hurts because you want to be happy too.”

Nicholas didn’t take long to catch up with the Lady. By the time he bounded through the foyer, he spotted her running through the gardens. His taller legs, while weary, closed the gap between them before losing her in amongst the pathways and trees. He slowed as he saw her reach the lake and the stone, realizing now his calls to try to stop her went unheard and he needed to gauge how she would reaction, how she was reacting. Slowly as she struggled with the dress, he moved forward across the glen, stopping to almost chuckle when the frock blew back into her face. When she started to talk, felt the whisper coming to his ears,

Now, after blurting out what was the easiest answer to him, he felt he was overstepping. Not just interrupting this girl’s peace, but suggesting something on the lady.

“That is … I don’t mean to suggest …” he coughed, and collected his words. He raised his hands above him to try to explain. “Last night, Jane brought Maddy to me so that we can find happiness carnally, all three of us. I don’t mean to suggest you expected the same carnal satisfaction, but …”

He swallowed and looked away from her. “Happiness, it is all any of us wants. I know you are troubled here, and this morning …” He breathed heavy, “ If I could ... you deserve to be happy as possible, my Lady.” The last of it, he tried to make it sound like he was saying two different things.but quickly realizing that probably didn’t come out that way.

 

[Vailyn]

Her head whipped around to look for the voice. Not just a voice but his voice! Long curly locks of golden brown hair whooshed around her head in a tangle of momentum, hope, fear and heat. Something hot and fierce burned below her lungs. It grew with each word he said. It burned as though it would eat her up alive from inside. Everything she saw, remembered and heard made it grow hotter and she couldn't bottle it up. She couldn't push it down.

Her fingers bunched in the puffed up skirts and heedlessly twisted the frail and cheerful material. Tumultuous emotions intensified her blue-green eyes, a healthy rose infused her delicate cheeks and made berry bright the full lips that pulled tight into a line.

"Happy?" she hoarsely parroted. Her voice just a whisper.

Allora gracelessly stood up on the rock. Not paying any attention to the state of her dress, hair or demeanor. She took a step closer to him. Just one step.

"Deserve to be happy?!?" The last word yelled in a roar of anger and confusion. "I tried to be HAPPY! Ever since I received his summons to return home--I did my best to adjust and be happy! But how can I be happy? How can I be happy in this place of strangers and strange customs? Where hard work is shunned and frivolous matters are encouraged?" She threw her hands wildly in the air.

"Yes. YES! I am naive and uncultured! I know nothing about the acts between a man and woman. Nonono NO! I knew nothing about the acts until recently. All because of you! You and your keen view of the world. You and your beautiful life and what wonderful things you can see in it. Of course!" She pointed at him and stabbed the air with her finger to punctuate her words. "YOU are happy! The man who has bedded two woman and copulate freely in the open! You are the one who made it seem decent to be half naked in public! Of course YOU did!"

Tears rushed down her face so fast that she couldn't see anything. Not even a vague shape of the world around her. Only the smudged blocks of light and colors could be tamed by the rushing fall of her tears. Hiccups and sobs broke up her tirade and jumbled the words that continued to run wild. "St-tupid! Happy...show you happy! Can--t trust--one..."

With one hand wiping at her face and the other hand bracing on the rock, Allora slid awkwardly off the rock and run off towards the trees.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

((Post removed for a re-write))

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Nicholas took it, he took all of it, and it caused something that brewed up inside him. A fire came from his belly and boiled when she accosted him about bedding two women. When she left the rock and started to move towards the trees his words burst from him.

“Wait,” he started. “WAIT,” he called more assertively. He grabbed her hand to spin her back to face him.

The anger in him brewed like a fire of his Spanish ancestors, but maybe it was those same passionate ancestors flipped that anger on its head. Turning her back to him, the daylight grazed across her reddened cheeks. Hues on her skin accented her freckling, enhanced by recent days of sun normally protected by her wimple. Even as loose strands of hair fell across her face, they only seemed to point the perfection that God made her. In all her arguments of naivety, it was that she was unaware how beautiful she was that caught him and pulled him back from a fit of anger.

Nicholas swallowed, realizing the pause was beginning to grow too long. Yet Jane’s words from earlier that morning came in his head, to let her talk. He only needed to keep her talking.

“What can I do to help?” he asked. “You deserve happiness. What would make you happy? If you wish it, I will do what I can.. I work for your father, but you are still My Lady.” Holding her hand softly, he sighed. The words were true, but they broke when he spoke as if this was more than duty. “Allora, if you wish it … I’m yours.”

 

[Vailyn]

Allora's hand was caught and she was spun awkwardly around to face the man that made her heart pound with conflicting emotions. It took a moment for the words to find meaning. Blue-green eyes shined with frustrated tears and inexplicable pain.

“Allora, if you wish it … I’m yours.”

Barely a finger span of space separated them. She meant to wrench her hand away. She had meant to deny him, but all the words dried hollow when she looked up into his dark eyes and she finally heard the words he said. In his eyes, she found a reflection of her own turmoil and a growing resolve.

Mine? He... can be-- Her thoughts scattered as someone called their names.

"Lady Allora! Master de Le Fuentes! Lord Blackwood would like to speak to each of you in his study right away. Come with me. He does not like to wait." Yates called to them as he walked down the path.

Allora hastily wiped her sleeves across her face and took in a deep shuddered breath to gather herself. "I have to change first. Tell Father I'll be with him shortly, Yates." She barely looked at Yates as she ran passed him.

***​

Each time Lord Blackwood looked at the painting of Allora washing by the well, he found himself growing hard. Soon, he will have a painting of her naked and Maddy will make all his craven fantasies come true. Just the thought of it had him ready to burst.

He pulled servant's bell, and Maddy meekly answered his summons. She knocked softly on the door and entered with her head bowed when he barked for her to enter. Her hands twisted nervously on her cleaning apron as she entered the study.

"How may I serve you, Lord Blackwood?"

“Come here, little one. You will pleasure me with your mouth. You must be quiet and not make any noise. If you do, you will be punished.” He lecherously stared at her with greedy expectation. She looked at him like a captured animal. “Now, girl!”

Maddy jumped at his command and moved quickly to kneel in front of the lord. She kept her head low and tried to not let her fear or disgust show on her face. Her fingers trembled as she clumsily worked to open his trousers. A pungent musk assailed her nose as she bowed her head to take his cock into her mouth.

Someone knocked on the door and called, “My lord, Lady Allora is here. Shall I admit her?”

Blackwood leered at the maid. He grabbed the back of her neck to stop her in the middle of taking his cock into her mouth and tilted her head to look up at him. “Keep going. Don't make a sound. Make it last till I command you to.” He clawed his fingers into her hair and yanked hard enough to make her eyes water. “Remember, little one. If you fail, I will punish you. Don't you worry. I remember that you enjoyed your punishment.”

He watched her eyes grow bright with tears and patted her head like a pet to be praised. “Let her in, Yates. When she leaves, I want Fuentes.”

“Yes, my lord. He's ready for you, Lady Allora.” Yates opened the door for Allora and closed it behind her.

***​

Allora had run directly to her room to wash her face and change. She knew what she looked like when she cried and, for some reason, she did not want her Father to know that she had been in tears. The skirt of the yellow dress needed to be repaired. She defied the prickles of guilt as she carelessly took off the silk dress, pulled on a plain blue dress, buttoned it and tucked her hair away in a white wimple. Immediately, she felt better. As though the familiar clothing redefined her as who she is and not the conflicting emotional mess that she has been the past few days.

All the while she changed and waited to see her Father, Allora's thoughts were running in circles about Master de Le Fuentes. Could he have meant what I think he meant? She didn't realize how lost she was in her thoughts until a movement caught her attention. Nicholas walked down the hall and was heading straight for her. An intent expression on his face. Her heart thundered. Before he could say anything, Yates told her to enter the study.

Confused and preoccupied, Allora murmured her thanks to Yates when he opened the door and waited for her to enter before closing the study doors behind her. She raised her head to see her Father sitting at his usual place behind the ornate wooden desk.

“I have news for you, daughter. Lord Balfour will arrive within a fortnight. The wedding will be a small affair and planned for the night after his arrival. Jane tells me that the seamstresses will have your trousseau ready in a few days. There is much to be done before the wedding and your departure. The paintings I have commissioned need be completed before the wedding. To that end, you will do as I command and do your best to help Fuentes get his work done. If he fails to produce work to my satisfaction, his debt to me will be tripled and he will be an indentured servant until his debt is paid in full.”

“Lord Balfour? Wedding? I—Father, I fear I am not ready. I thought that I would have time to get to know the lord. I--”

Blackwood cut Allora off with a sharp bark of laughter. “What is this? You think you have a say in what occurs? You will do as you are told. If you do not, you will be punished. If punishment does not move you to obey, others will be punished in your place. Do you understand?”

Allora's body stiffened in anger and caution stifled the words she wanted to shout at her Father. She defiantly glared at her Father as she said, “Yes, Father. I understand.”

The craven man grunted in satisfaction. His daughter will obey and the little maid was following her orders well between his legs. Blackwood's eyes looked behind Allora to the painting of her at the well and he smiled. When his looked back at his daughter, he frowned. “What are you wearing, child? That rag is not what I had ordered for you to wear.”

“It's one of my work ready dresses for when I tend to the gardens. There is nothing wrong with this dress.” Allora quietly defended her dress.

Her Father dismissed her comment with a cruel twist of his lips. “There won't be any more of that. You will wear what you are told to wear and you will not argue. There may not be enough time for the Master Artist to finish the paintings I have commissioned. If he fails due to your defiance, he will suffer. Do you want to cause his suffering?” He knows that her tender heart would not allow her to fight if another would be hurt in her place. He knows her well. After all, she is the image of her mother inside and out. And how he had reveled in breaking his sweet wife once she was his.

Past memories and the present mixed together in his mind, and having Allora before him as Madeline sucked on his erection was more than he could manage. Blackwood grunted as his pleasure surged to burst. His hands dug into the maid's hair and held her still. “Go ready yourself for the next painting. Jane will see to your comforts and make sure you are ready as I have ordered.”

As soon as the door closed behind Allora, a guttural moan hissed from Blackwood and his sagging belly heaved to keep control. His grip on the maid's golden locks tightened painfully. How he enjoyed looking down at her flushed face, mouth full of his cock and sloppy drool coating the lower half of her face. “Naughty little wanton, I told you that you would be punished if you failed my orders. You almost made me lose control while my dear daughter was in the room. You will be punished for it later.”

He watched her eyes darkened with fear and her muffled whimper made him chuckle evilly. “Yates, bring me the Spaniard!”

 

[ArcticAvenue]

“A moment before you go, Spaniard,” Yates spoke putting a hand to the painter’s chest and stopping him from pursuing Allora.

It seemed just a breath ago Nicholas offered himself to the young lady, suggesting something he should not even dare. Yet before she had much of chance to think, the Lord’s Man had interrupted and sent the girl running off. Nicholas was torn, frustrated by the interruption, confused by Allora’s reaction to what she had seen, aching to wonder if he had pushed her beyond any more proper decorum or comfort. So his response to Yates came across curt. “Yes, sir, but maybe in …”

“No, I insist,” Yates replied. He was lanky but the same height as Nicholas; however his constant scowl always left Nicholas with the feeling that he was under harsh watchful eyes.

Nicholas sighed heavily and acquiesced.

“The lady is of the highest order” Yates slowly pointed out. “Not like the others you have painted.”

“You believe I am unaware?”

“I believe you feel you can take the privileges you seem too quick to take with others.” Yates raised his chin, stood tall and, and looked down on the painter. “She maybe a child, but she is still a dignified member of a society that you will never know. Not some harlot for you to debauch.”

Nicholas, still boiling deep with the conflict of earlier stiffened. “How dare you suggest that I would treat the Lady as such.”

“Am I blind, Spaniard?” Yates interrupted. “The lady, just now, dress askew, upset. You see her unclothed, you prop her wantingly where you wish, how could I not see that you are trying to spoil her. You could at least try to convince me she is preparing for another sitting, but … where are the paints, Master Spaniard?” His words raising as it became more sardonic.

Nicholas’s response was quick. “Yet you immediately believe I became improper with her, how dare you sir.”

“How dare you, sir. Are the whore maids, Jane and Maddie, not enough for you?”

Nicholas’s fists balled, ready to strike. Yet he chose to strike with words. “The same maids your master forces himself upon.”

The scowl on Yates’s brow returned. “Be aware that I shall inform the Lord of your indulgences with the Lady. I am sure he will take this as reason to continue your debt to him.” He turned to begin to leave.

Nicholas, his mind driven by the fire, connected a piece to his words and rang it out as a question. “And what debt do you owe sir?” Walking now to keep up with the manservant, he continued. “I have my debt. The maidens, they are indebted in some way as well. We each are held here to accept such grace from a horrible man.”

“See to it you are ready for the Lord when he is ready for you,” Yates spoke over his shoulder.

“You are not Blind, Yates. You see the worst of him.” Nicholas was slowing, no longer wanting the chase. More wanting to raise his voice louder across the green for any to hear. “You See the Worst. So how awful is your Debt? What have you Done to Deserve this Fate!”

There was no response. No reaction. No change in his pace, or means to suggest that he was escaping. There was no affirmation of what Nicholas surmised. Yet also, there was no rejection.

Left alone now on the lawn, Nicholas cooled his breath, returned his mind to calm. This day had already become difficult and dangerous. If he was to see the Lord in this state, trouble would occur.

***


When Nicholas entered, he found the Lord slouched back behind his desk with a red face and slitted eyes. The lord saw him and sat up immediately. “Ah, come in Master Fuentes,” he called almost with a sarcastic tone. “We need to speak of the plans for the paintings to come. Have a seat.” He pointed to the chair positioned further back closer to the fire and the rug still splayed out from where Nicholas found Maddie the night before.

“Plans for the painting, sire?” Nicholas, given the time needed to contain the turmoil of the day once again was pulled back to the confusion that seems to come with every meeting in this room.

“Yes yes,” the Lord replied. “One moment ..” The lord reached down seemingly at his waist and shifted something. “That is enough girl, I think the moment has passed.”

The lord slid his chair back slightly, and Madeline, to Nicholas’s surprise, rose up from under the desk. She was dressed in her maid uniform, but her hair was tangled and face red. She wiped at his lips, and unsteadily moved towards the door doing all that she could to not look towards the painter.

“I didn’t say leave, did I,” the Lord commanded.

She turned wided-eyed back to her master. “But sir, I …”

Blackwood slammed his hand onto the desk.

Her protest ended.

“Stand over by the painting Maddie, like you did yesterday,” he stated, pointing towards the still fresh portrait of Allora by the well.

She dropped her head and shuffled across the room. She gave a quick glance to Nicholas, but did little else to acknowledge he was there. She stopped next to the portrait and waited.

“Like last night, child,” the Lord lectured. “Remove your clothing and stand, like you did last night.”

Nicholas was shocked, but fought to keep his anger at bay. The treatment of the girl, continued from the awful acts the night before, ripped at him to stand his ground. Yet he knew the troubles of this place were far bigger than one maid, and he could do no action at this time that would do anything but make those troubles worse.

She disrobed in short order, but she was more distressed than he had seen her. Tears rolled down her face, her chest heaved to keep her sobbing at bay.

“I apologize boy,” the Lord finally began addressing Nicholas, “I didn’t mean to delay our conversation. Yet when something is not how it is supposed to be, one must make sure that the consequences are paid for. Do you not agree?”

“Consequences, my lord?”

He laughed. “You well know, Fuentes, that I am a man of simple expectation. If one does not meet expectations, I am not a happy man. Which is good that you bring that up.”

“I … I ..” Nicholas studdard unsure what he had brought up.

“So far, your work has not been unpleasant, but you have not fulfilled my expectations either. The awful piece in the glade, your first painting leaving her dressed, they were not what I asked for. Now I am willing to admit that my daughter can be difficult at times, but it is you who I hold responsible to meet my needs. Is that understood?”

“Ah, indeed sire.” Nicholas replied quickly.

“You have until the moment she is married to finish all the paintings I ask of you. Leave one unfinished, and your debt will be unpaid and I shall have you sent to the work camps until you have earned it in double. Present me one more painting that is not to my wishes and suffer the same fate.”

“But … Allora …”

“Allora has been told to follow your directions completely. You are to pose her how I demand it. If she fails to do so, she knows it is you who will be punished.” He smirked, as if wanted to feel the irony of that comment flow over the painter. “So you could say she holds your life in her stubborn hands.”

Before Nicholas could make a response, the Lord turned back to the naked woman in the room. “Here, here, Madeline. You cover yourself up, stop that.”

Nicholas, fuming with indignity, glanced over at the girl. She had her arms up covering her pert breasts and her nest over her womanhood. She slowly lifted her head and moved her arms. Her tear soaked eyes found Nicholas’s and she once again tried to look away.

“What do you think, Spaniard?” The Lord chuckled. “Is not Madeleine as beautiful as my daughter?

Nicholas turned away from the girl and cast his eyes to the floor. She did not deserve this embarrassment, this humiliation.

Blackwood just leaned back and gawked at the naked girl. “Too bad she isn’t my daughter. Or for that matter, too bad she isn’t some street whore. Then maybe you could paint, Madeleine as well. Would you like that, Madeleine? For the Spaniard to leer over you as you exposed your naughty flesh to him? Maybe you would even let the Spaniard touch you how you wish … others would touch you. Might you like him on you?”

Nicholas did his best to keep silent, to keep out of this lewd behavior. His words struck Nicholas though, as the Lord was unaware of Nicholas’s carnal knowledge of the girl. Yates knew, but the Lord did not.

Thankfully, there was a knock on the door to interrupt him.

“Yes?” called the Lord.

Yates cracked the door open and did not look inside. “A parcel arrived from the clothier in York, sire.”

The Lord’s eyes grew as wide as his smile. “Oh yes! Bring it here, please.”

Yates entered, but couldn’t hide his shock of seeing the naked Maddy, once again moving to try to cover herself. In his hand was a wrapped parcel tied with strings.

“On second thought,” Blackwood responded, “I have a better idea. Send it to Allora’s room.”

Yates nodded, turned quickly, and exited just as quick.

Blackwood turned smugly to Nicholas. “Instead of what I asked for last night, you have a different painting to paint tonight. That gift is a robe that Allora shall wear on her wedding night when she becomes Lady Balfour. You will have her sit where you are sitting wearing just that robe.”

“J-just sitting … sire?” Nicholas suspiciously asked.

“Of course,” he smirked. “Then again, I expect that you make sure she is not arranged awkwardly or sheepish. Ask her to sit as if she is anticipating her husband.”

Nicholas pursed his lips, gaining greater concern over what lay in that parcel.

“Bring it to me tomorrow morning,” Blackwood smiled. He waved his hand to the door, “now leave us. Madeleine and I need to have a chat.”

Blackwood was on his feet and pushing back his chair no sooner did the painter leave the room. “Come over Madeleine.” He was freeing himself of his pants and unbuttoned his shirt.

She shyly stepped over to the desk. She looked timid, afraid, but her words spoke of her newfound worldliness. “Sire, you said … I could have the day to rest … it still does hurt.”

He pulled her easily to face away from him, and pushed her shoulders so that she bent over the desk. “I have no intentions for that hole, girl.” He spit in his hand, and lathered up his hardness. “I said you needed punishment, didn’t I?” With that, he lined himself up with the last opening where he had not taken her. Ensuring her embarrassment was complete.

***

“No one will set your easel for you, Spaniard,” Yates he caught Nicholas exiting the Lord’s room.

Nicholas buried his head into his chest and tried to move quickly. “I will need different paints for tonight.”

“There is a shop in town, you will get it yourself.”

Nicholas turned quickly, placed himself directly in front of Yates, stood his ground, and gritted, “You didn’t tell him. About Allora, about Maddie, did you.”

Yates did not flinch. “Your point, painter?”

Nicholas smirked. “I only paint what I observe.”

Yates lifted his chin slightly. “I do no favors. I only serve my Lord. In a fortnight Allora will be married, you will be gone, and this manor can return to what it was.”

“No matter how horrible that may be,” Nicholas spat.

Yates scowled. “have the note for the paints sent to me for payment. As the Lord requested, I will add it to your debt.” He turned and carried the parcel with him to the residences.

Nicholas, once again left to himself. He had much to do. He had paints to gather. He had a canvas to prepare. He had to set-up the scene for when Allora arrives.

Then he realized, he hadn’t spoken to Allora, not since the lawn. Their time, their troubles, things have yet to resolve. Now there would be no time for him to do so before their session. Then even, would he be able to comfort her enough for the right pose, the right look. Or would be this be painting that ruins him once and for all.

He balled up his fists, pushed to control the anger of this day, the frustration of the situation. His world had become awful.

If not for her.

Continue on, for Allora. That is what he thought. That is what he had to do.

And he had much to do for her.

 

[Vailyn]

It seemed as if turmoil was the only state she experienced of late. She wasn't sure if could handle any more being added to the chaos swirling in her head. Allora kept her gaze on the ground as she left the study and made no attempt to meet Nicholas' gaze or give him a way to talk to her. She knew that she wasn't being polite and that it was rude to walk thus but it was the only way she could think of to guard herself.

A storm cloud of information and confusing emotions vied with the harsh threat of danger that her Father wielded with ease. She felt angry that he would treat others with callous disregard. She had high hopes of getting to know her Father and forming a bond. He was the only family she had. It seemed only reasonable to believe that they would love each other and hold each other in affection.

She wasn't willing to give up all hope. Yet, with each day that passed, Allora realized that she did not want to know her Father better. What little she did glean of him made her wish to be anywhere else. It wasn't just that he was cold, stand offish and indifferent. He seemed selfish and unconcerned with the well being of anyone other than himself. That he was the master of his world and only what he desired would take place.

Then there were the paintings... The Master Artist did not frighten her or make her feel guarded. She had hope for once that she could connect and become friends of a sort. He fascinated her. Everything about him piqued her curiosity and stirred a keen desire to learn and experience. She felt as though he encouraged her despite her ignorance and lack of worldly views. She's never felt this way before. This burning in her chest and the tingling-tangle of sensations that thrummed inside her body. All of her senses were alive around him. She became amazingly focused on what he looked like, how he smelled, felt and, it's so wrong but..., she wished she knew how he tasted! Wicked, wicked thoughts!

"Lady Allora?" Jane had knocked on the door several times and there was no response but she knew that the young maiden was within. A brief flash of her meeting with the master of the house flashed in Jane's mind, and she winced as it brought her attention back to the welts on her backside.

Something had displeased the Lord and he took it out on Jane with a leather crop. He had her bend over on his desk and lift her skirts. It was not unusual for Jane to go without underdrawers. Being without made her feel somewhat wicked and made certain exchanges a simpler matter. The Lord knew of this habit of hers. He encouraged it.

While he told her his instructions for what he expected with the young lady, Lord Blackwood lashed Jane with lazy, sharp flicks of the crop. She was not allowed to make a sound except to say, "Yes, my lord." each time he asked her if she understood. It was the longest, painful ten minutes that Jane has ever had. It hurt to touch and even the soft sway of her skirts caused it to burn.

Jane opened the door and entered the room with an armful of packages. The master was very clear in his instructions on what Allora was to wear for the next few weeks and for the special painting sessions. "Lady Allora, I have da new garments for yer trousseau and what yer Father has ordered for ya ta wear for the next few weeks. My lady, ya'll need ta bath and eat before meeting the Master Artist dis evening."

Allora had been sitting on the window seat and lost in her thoughts. She didn't even hear Jane knocking on the door. Seeing Jane with a pile of packages, she made her way to the maid and helped her put the packages on the bed. Memories of what she saw that afternoon made her flush. She wasn't sure if she was blushing from embarrassment or anger or some wild mix of everything. She wasn't even sure if she should be angry. None of it made sense. That did not make it easier for her to raise her eyes and look at Jane. Uncharacteristically, Allora worked on unwrapping the packages without saying a word. Words choked the air and filled the room with tension.

Jane gave a loud sigh, walked over to Allora and took her hands in her own. "I must be forward and speak, my lady. This--" She waved her hand about and then patted Allora's hand. "I am not sorry fer what ya saw today. What passed between us was an evenin' of caring and passion. It is nae dat I's think you should've seen such a thing. Tis a bit of knowhow ya should learn from yar Mother or Husband. I knows that ya dinna have a Mother. I am sorry if what ya saw twas a shock. If ya will, we can talk about it. Ask me questions, my Lady, and I shall try ta answer like yar'wn Mother."

Allora's hands clenched beneath Jane's. She didn't say anything for the longest time and when she did, it was a husky whisper, "I'm not sure if I want to know, Jane. I... a part of me is in a rage and I do not really understand why. The Master Artist said something about it being a thing that made you all happy. And I do not wish for any of you to be unhappy... so... I... I do not know why I am upset about it all."

Jane drew Allora to her and hugged her close. A hand wrapped around the slim maiden's back and the other put her head to rest on Jane's shoulder. Jane swayed and rocked Allora for a while. "Little Maddie had a bad experience and I dinna want it to be da only thing she thought about when it comes to the intimate acts. The Master Artist is a good man and caring in the ways between men and women. He did not seek to spend the late night with us but he did not put us out when I asked him to help. Indeed, what we did was a happy thing to be sure. Fer we spent the time teaching and showing Little Maddie how it can be good and pleasurable between a man and woman."

Allora slowly lost her stiffness and settled into the embrace. It's been so long since anyone had held her like this. She did not realize that it was something she missed. "But, Jane, there were three of you in the bed and I... I saw that all of you were entwined together. Does it mean that you can find pleasure with a man or woman both?"

Jane chuckled. "Well, tis not a common thing but a woman can find pleasure with a woman too if they are inclined. I dinna know how da Master Artist feels about you, my lady. Yet, I believe he does care. He was shocked as ya were shocked by ya appearing in the room. He ran out like a fool to catch ya. I had ta call him back ta put his clothes on. What passed in da night was a thing of happiness, yes. But it is a passing joy that we shared. What you feel fer da artist may be different. What we had is not a thing of da heart. It was more about sharing a moment and passion. If ya keen what I mean."

A calm, soothing silence cocooned them as day turned became late afternoon. "Am I wicked? I think I may be wicked for I feel strange, strong emotions when I am with the Master Artist. I must be wicked for I am engaged to another man and it is my duty to be love and be loyal to my future husband."

Jane pushed Allora away and made her meet her eyes. "Ya aren't wicked, my lady. Yar feelin' what any young lass may feel when the heart feels da first blooms of desire. What all that has been happening is nae a common circumstance. Ya are told to do things that other lasses do nae. Dinna make yarself full of fear and shame fer things that ya dinna choose fer yarself. And fer yar own good, ya WILL do as yar Lord Father commands. I dinna want ya to come to harm by angering his lordship. Do the best ya can, my lady. Do nae fill your heart with curses and blameful words.

"Ya must be strong, my lady. Be strong and do what yar told to do. I dinna want to see ya hurt. The Lord can be fierce-some and cruel if his wishes are not done. Do nae give him a reason to punish ya, do ya hear?" Jane shook Allora to emphasize the question. Nagging fear and doubts continued to run in her mind, but Allora heard the truth in Jane's words and she nodded agreement. Though her world has turned strange, she would do her best to do what she must.

"Good! Now, I know these garments are nae the kind a lady would wear but ya must remember that yar Lord Father requires you to wear these clothes fer the next few weeks. They are soft as sin but sheer as sleeping garments tend to be. I shall be helping ya dress each day and fer each painting appointment. Tis his lordship's wish that I do such. Come, my lady, we have much to do. I must get ya bathed, fed and dressed within the next few hours. I am told the artist will require you to pose all night for the next painting."

***​

Allora did not know what to do. She stared at herself in the mirror. She had decided to do as her Father demanded. She was afraid of what would happen if she did not. Yet, how could she do this?

The light from the fire and candles drew out the red waves hidden in her golden brown hair. Jane styled her hair to be held up on the sides by two beautiful pearl encrusted combs. The full length of her hair covered her body more than the sheer lace robe that she had been told to wear that night. The decadent robe was beautiful. The whole of it was made of sheer white lace, a wide swath of flowers and graceful swirls were embroidered in silk along the edges. The sleeves fell in a languid bell over her arms and a soft, white silk rope laced in the front and molded the robe snugly about her torso. The firm mounds of her breasts were only partially covered and stood proudly beneath the silk.

It was beautiful.

It was devastatingly awful, and it hid nothing from sight. When she took a step, the robe parted to show the golden brown curls between her legs. Nothing she did made the robe cover more of her. It was made to be revealing. To be enticing. She shivered. Would he find me desirable or a disgraceful wanton?

“My lady, ya must go now. Ya dinna want trouble do ya?” Jane said as she put a plain black cloak over Allora. It covered her from neck to toe and hid everything that Allora wished the robe hid as well. Jane tied the neck closed and bundled her charge out of her room and down to the study. She left Allora standing on the bear skin rug before the fire. Before she left, she looked back into the room and saw the Master Artist and her young charge staring at each other. The room filled with questions that neither asked. Jane sighed quietly as she closed the door and left the two alone.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Nicholas requested and was granted access to the sitting room hours before Allora was to arrive. In that time, he was able to complete the background and much of the chair she was to sit in. The darker paints required to capture the evening setting as well as the detail of the longing cushioned chair were such that the fore object, namely Allora herself, would surely cause a smearing of the wet oils when it came time to place her into the portrait. Still the grand canvas was the largest he had ever used, she would not be lifesized but it would be quite close.

As he allowed the paints to dry, he again recited the words that he seemed to have practiced a hundred times already, They were words he intended for Allora. He drank heartedly the tea left for him in the sitting room, a necessity from how tired he had become from the night before and the day. It would be a long night as well, since however long it will take him to put Allora once more at ease with all of his actions, and of course with a painting he had to complete.

He practiced the words over and over again, because he promised himself that he would not allow his emotions to defeat his purpose. When the time came, he would ask for her forgiveness. He had overstepped his place and suggested things that reached beyond what a Lady should be suggested of. She is to be married soon, and he is to paint her. That is all they will be from this point on. Nothing more.

That is the words he planned to say.

Once she entered the room, though, the words no longer came.

Jane had left Allora and him standing in the middle of the bear skinned carpet by the glow of the warm fire. The way she stood with her back to the fire, she seemed to radiate with the orange glow of the embers, garnering a greater sense of wonder to her being. She was draped in the black cloak he knew would be covering her from the true outfit her father had planned for her. In those moments, that seemed like minutes, that seemed like hours, she made no movement to remove the cloak. As much, she made no effort speak or get him to speak, and breech the questions that were left unanswered from the morning.

While he still could not find the words to say, he found the courage to act. His fingers found the ties on her cloak, pulling the knots loose, and beginning to hint to what lay beneath. Once the ties were free, he gripped the edge of the cloak, and lifted the heavy dark cloth off her shoulders until by just releasing the fabric the whole of it fell to the floor. During the whole of the process, his eyes never left hers. He watched her for any reaction, any sign that told him that he was doing something horrid, or worse something unwanted. He didn’t want any such sign, and in her eyes didn’t find any. With no words spoken between them, the only sound in the room was the light crackle of the fire.

Finally, he looked down her body to the lace robe that stood as the only garment. His breath audibly escaped his lungs. He slid slowly backwards to gather more of her in, and she grew just that much more stunning as he did. The soft white fabric and thinly adorned lace hid very little of what lay underneath. The greatest covering seemed to be around her shoulders, but that only seemed to direct the eyes downwards to her firm breasts and the pink aerolas clearly visible underneath the robe. So shear was the fabric that he could even see the freckles that cascaded over her chest and down her breasts, even in the dark light of the room. As he slid further back to gather more of the vision in, he released that her exposure continued down her entire body. As intimate as the other sittings have been, this was the first she had become so bare to him that he could see the heart of her femininity. Her hips flared softly to allow her legs to beg the eyes and thoughts upwards to her treasures. At her softly shaped mons, the tussle of brownish curls hinted along the edges of her robe. As much as her innocence shaped the child that still remained inside of her, this robe did more to show how much of a woman Allora truly was. A vision that Nicholas drank with unexpected joy.

At the point where he managed to pull all of it in, his eyes raised up to hers, and he gave a satisfied, joyful smile to her. With a slight smirk, he stepped closer to her and took her hands.

It was time to work.

Wordlessly, he backed up along the carpet, pulling Allora towards the chair that would be the setting for the painting. When they reached the chair he guided her to sit, helping to keep the robe from binding below her. He placed his hands onto her hips, applying gentle pressure until she followed his lead and inched to one side of the chair. His fingers slid through her hair, careful not to disturb the combs but careful to allow the locks to fall across her shoulders to hint to cover her breasts. As he brushed through her locks, he applied light touches to her head until it leaned back against the tall back of the chair. He guided the her left hand to sit on the armrest comfortably. He shifted the robe to properly wrap over her chest. He slid a finger lightly across her chin, tilting her head down slightly and eliciting a smile.

Finally, he stepped back and surveyed his model. She looked elegant, pleasant, and steps away from innocent. With both her feet planted on the floor, he could almost see a hint of what lay between her legs. He hungered to see what was hidden there, but in the scheme of this pose, it didn’t look right, so he chose to move boldly to fix it.

His hands fell upon her left knee. With slow, long movements he prepared to show her how he wanted her positioned, his eyes locked directly onto hers in order to keep her trust. The soft skin against his rough fingers felt sensuous. With a light grip, he lifted her leg until it was just high enough to slide it over her other knee and rested it. He guided his hands slowly up her thigh, allowing the robe to shift open and expose her hips. Dangerously close to her most intimate area he didn’t let his touch linger, changing direction and slowly sliding his hands down her thigh. Releasing her leg, he took her right hand and lifted it to give a soft kiss; then with a smile he guided down until it rested at pubis. He carefully positioned her hand so it would look equally like it covered and equality like it awaited to be touched. Still his hold of her hand so close let him feel how warm that area had become, hinting to the arousal she must have been feeling.

Releasing her, he once again stood back and looked over her body and her poise. She looked comfortable, relaxed, composed, and surprisingly so. She looked wanton, but in a way that was loving and erotic at the same time. He successfully brought out a look that appeared she was open for carnal needs, yet in a way that would never be mistaken as women of ill repute.

In short, she looked good enough that if she asked something of any man, he would never refuse.

Nicholas gave her a warm, wide smile. He could not be more happy with a model than he was at this point. The need to capture this was the only thing stronger than his desire for her. As he found his chair, lifted his brush, he began the work that history will remember him forever as The Master de la Fuentes.