Article 44653 of alt.sex.stories:
Message-ID: <053304Z20011995@anon.penet.fi>
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an131266@anon.penet.fi (S L - lady)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous contact service
Reply-To: an131266@anon.penet.fi
Date: Fri, 20 Jan 1995 05:28:16 UTC
Subject: STORY: The Estate of Flowers 1-1 (f/solo, ds, voyeur)
Lines: 130
"Estate of Flowers I pt 1/3"
The following is a copyrighted adult story. The author
retains all legal rights to this story and its characters. It may be
freely distributed if unchanged and this message remains intact, to
any bulletin board with an adult only area.
The Estate of Flowers
by SL
1-1
I was sitting and relaxing in the garden. The estate grounds
were lovely as usual. The flowers were in bloom and their perfume
hung in the air, the fragrance was intoxicating. I don't know the
names of the flowers.. they are a special breed, grown to keep the
garden scented with aphrodisiacs, and those in it in a perpetual
state of semi-arousal. It works. On that particular morning I sat in
the grass and breathed deeply, wondering when I might be satisfied
again.
A cool breeze came, and it rustled my robe gently against my
breasts. I am permitted to wear a light, transparent robe outdoors
when the Viscount is away, a gesture of respect from him, that I may
enjoy a bit of modesty. My feet are free, that I may walk the grounds
at will, but my hands must remain tied behind my back. I am rarely
permitted to touch my own body, and I anticipate those times that the
Viscount will allow it. On this day, my robe softly caressed my
breasts with the wind, and I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined
a stronger, firmer touch.
Footsteps nearby brought me back to the present, and I raised my
head to see one of the slave girls walking by. She was picking
flowers and carefully placing them in a white basket. She looked
towards me shyly, and smiled. I smiled too. I feel a strong kinship
with the slave girls, although we are not permitted to speak to each
other. I think they envy me, and my position with the Viscount. In
turn, I envy them. While I receive much more attention from the
Viscount, when he is here, they have companionship with each other. I
have heard them chatting in the palace, giggling and laughing. They
aren't supposed to chat with each other, but they know that the
Viscount will not turn his interest towards them enough to find out.
When he is away, they relax and enjoy company through their work.
The slave girls like me, I think, but are too afraid of the
possible consequences to dare approach me and bring me into their
circles. I cannot blame them. The Viscount would find out, because in
the end I cannot keep anything from him. And while it might mean an
unpleasant night or week for me, it could mean disaster for them. I
accept it all.
I watched her as she picked the flowers. She was completely
naked, of course, none of the slaves are permitted to wear clothing.
I wondered what her name was. The Viscount does not allow his slaves
to have names - he believes it brings them too much confidence to
have something so substantial - but I know they bring their own names
with them from their childhood and they call each other
affectionately. They wouldn't ever allow the Viscount to hear it,
though, and subsequently I can't either. I name them myself,
sometimes, and dream about what their lives might be like.
It is true that they must work, and when the Viscount comes back
they spend their time under great duress, keeping things in order so
that he will not be displeased. Still, they have the freedom to walk
the grounds, and with free hands, to touch themselves, or others as
they wish. And to pick flowers, and brush back a stray piece of hair
from their eyes. They aren't permitted to touch bodies, of course,
but, as the Viscount would say, they are impertinent. He holds them
in low regard, and expects them to be crude and vulgar, which is why
he doesn't pursue it often. There is a higher standard for me.
I took another deep breath, and a shudder went through my body.
I could feel the sweetness between my legs, dripping and longing. I
glanced towards the girl, still picking flowers. She was working in
the middle row, hidden by the tall bushes from all eyes but mine. She
caught my eye, and stood slowly with a love flower in hand. She held
it to her nose and breathed deeply. She had deep black hair with a
white streak on the side. It reminded me of a horse I'd had when I
was young, a stallion named Sly. I watched her smelling the flower,
elegant and beautiful, standing in the morning sunlight. I named her
Sylvia.
Sylvia did not look at me again. I knew what she was doing. She
wanted me to watch her, but was being careful that I couldn't say for
certain that she did it intentionally. I might tell the Viscount that
I thought she had, but I wouldn't be certain. I might not tell the
Viscount at all.. it would depend on his mood and what questions he
asked me. Sylvia held the flower in her left hand, and let her right
hand slide down to her breast. She played with her nipple, squeezing
it and twirling it. I could see it harden, and I felt my own nipples
hardening, and wished once again that I could touch them. She nuzzled
the flower with her nose and lips, and cupped her own breast,
squeezing softly and circling the tip of her nipple with her finger.
I shifted so that my robe brushed my nipples again, now hard with
excitement. I could feel my own juices flowing, and I squeezed my
legs together to fight the tension. Still, I could not look away.
Her hand wandered away from her breast, trailing down her
stomach, and down farther, until she reached the top of her pussy.
She slowly fingered the outside, and then slightly spread her legs
and opened her lips that I might see it. It looked pink and warm and
wet. She began to stroke herself, and I squirmed in my position
longing for strokes on my own throbbing pussy. I rolled over and
pressed myself to the ground, at least applying pressure there.
Sylvia was moaning softly, frantically stroking her clit and sliding
her fingers in and out of her vagina. I moaned involuntarily. I was so
aroused, but with no release. She began to come and dropped the
flower, grasping at her breast and pulling on her nipple as she
thrust her hips to her hand. She shuddered deeply, and I could see
her juices flowing as she came.
Then it was over. She disappeared behind the flower row without
a look back to me, and I lay on the ground breathing erratically,
staring at the flower that lay alone on the ground, like me.
***
END 1-1
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