Chapter 1: Dinner and an Orgy
I could smell her as I walked into the great hall. With the half-dozen or so party guests, I was indeed surprised that her scent reached me. Certainly, Mr. Debert's "cologne" should have procluded anything else, but I smelled her. She had a sweet floral scent, like honey-suckles in early September, but also had that scent which I can only describe as sex. She exuded it, and I knew from the moment I stepped into the great hall, I wanted to taste it.
Now the trick was to discover who she was. There were several luscious specimens of female beauty there that night; myself of course included, but I didn't think it was I who smelled so good. I was introduced to the ones I didn't know, and reacquainted with those I did in due time by my loving Master. Wives and daughters; each of them quite attractive, and each obviously quite anxious about the night, but not one of them smelling remotely like the youthful and jubilant sexual entity I was looking for.
Oh, and there were the men, too. Not as numerous this time. Mr. Debert is fond of high female:male ratios. For this I was glad. Even Madam Corona had been hosting a higher male population at her events, and I was getting sick to death of the testosterone.
I made polite conversation over some terribly sweet wine for what seemed like an eternity. As a writer, I get very bored with a lack of in depth conversation, and neither the stock market, nor the weather, nor the recent geological debates interest me as "in depth." I wanted to hear how Dr. Hoffman's young girl was coping with her fear of food; or how the child prostitution scandal had worked out for Madam Corona. No one seemed to be talking about important things. Polite society is so awfully boring!
Tired of uninteresting conversation, I stepped back, and observed the exchanges. Doctor Hoffman had his newest wife with him, Fanny. She was no younger than twenty (a good third his age), but had been dressed to look, and instructed to act sixteen. In my thinking, it would make Madam Corona uncomfortable, but she seemed quite fine with it. Every once in a while, I'd catch the doctor gripping his young tart a little too roughly for her comfort. I noticed he made Corona uncomfortable more than Fanny did. As Corona got more defensive, I could just barely make out that masculinity in her profile that she tries so desperately to hide.
Alexandra Katz was conversing animatedly with Lady Cassandra; on what I could only guess was a religious discussion. There was laughing sprinkled throughout the conversation, so it was nothing in comparison to what it would have been had either one of them been talking with Hoffman.
Master David now approached the little group of Corona, Hoffman, and Fanny. He had just come from my photographer's circle. Signor Dacini was debuting his young daughter tonight, who had just come of age, and Master David had wanted a word with them. I looked at Anna-Maria from across the room. She was a lovely, slight thing with dark Italian skin, and shy chocolate eyes. Her dress was white and backless, showing a generous portion of cleavage, and hung about her arms, giving her breasts room to breathe. I could see why Master David had wanted such a one.
Corona was now beginning to get into the swing of things. Her lovely broad Latin lips sparkled a smile toward Fanny, who blushed and turned away. Hoffman had words with his wife in German. I was unable to hear most of it, but I did recall some things from my previous experiences with him. She can't take it, I thought, as she began shuddering in tears and shaking her head.
Master David must have noticed my contempt (hopefully before the others) because he pulled me aside and said: "Miss Dawn, do you need a spanking?"
Of course, the only answer to that question is, "No Sire, I'll be good."
"Good," he said, with menace in his eyes. "Now, go and be a good girl."
When dinner was called, and we were filing into the dining room, I felt a pair of crude hands grip against my buttocks through my emerald taffeta dress. Quickly I gasped and turned around to find Mr. Debert right behind me. I belong to my Master and only my Master and have permission to do anything I please to defend myself against this kind of slight.
"Good evening, Mr Debert," I said to him coldly. He looked at me with a liscencious glare in his eyes, as if expecting to get some kind of reward for assaulting me.
"Bon soir, Miss Dawn," he said in his faux-francais.
"I suppose you expect something for that, do you?" I asked politely.
"Indeed I do, Cherie," he responded; that ridiculous Clouseauesque tone grating my nerves.
"Very well, Monsieur," I said, and rubbed his crotch with my gloved hand. As that disgusting smile I was so very unfond of crossed his face, I grabbed hold of his balls, and snarling, whispered, "Touch me again and my Master won't be so nice as just to grab them. Consider yourself warned, Filthy American!"
I smiled inwardly as he nodded, his eyes huge with shock and fear, his breath raspy and broken from the pain. I love men! You always know their weak spot. He was fairly silent toward me for the rest of the evening, though I could feel his eyes on my chest and could see his little mind just working on his revenge. I shook my head everytime I noticed. Master David noticed too from a few places away.
During salad, Anna-Maria spilled wine down the front of her gown. Singorina Dacini was seated next to Master David, and he and I exchanged a significant glace barely able to contain our mirth, which amounted to more than the others'. I knew why she'd spilled her wine. Subtly amused smiles could be seen all around the table. Anna-Maria was known to be quite the prima donna ballerina, and to lack such grace over salad...well! that's quite a travesty, isn't it?
After a very delicious pate, before the table was cleared, the conversation turned interesting. The Madam, my dear close friend from Barcelona, began to discuss the trial. It was the first time she had said anything publicly about it whatsoever, and we were all enthralled to hear about it. I, of course, knew that my former Madam had no interest in child prostitution, excluding that which was against it. She always made adequately sure of her girls' ages, and was reluctant to hire anyone under the age of twenty. I was made quite well aware of this, as I had been 19 when I'd gone to work for her. She was the best employer I'd ever had, and I daresay I was one of the best girls she'd ever had, professionally and otherwise.
"I told them that I do run a bordello, and that I'm always certain to make sure my girls are well of age," she said as the maidservant stepped in front of me, spilling a waft of perfume about my place setting. That was it: the scent I'd been seeking! It was intoxicating up close, and I nearly dampened the underside of my dress.
Master David, ever watchful, noticed my reaction. He made eye contact with me, and then looked subtly to the maidservant. Anna-Maria gave a cough that was obviously a stifled yelp of "pleasure". I raised my eyebroughs inconspicuously, and shifted my eyes maid-ward. Master David smiled a smile that only I could see, and inclined his head slightly. I had permission.
Signor Dacini, leaned over to his daughter and whispered something in her ear. She made signs of saying no, and bit her lip. Marco looked less than convinced. He'd been around the block before, and I'm fairly sure he could smell what was happening underneath (I could almost smell it) but would Marco dare to stop my Master from taking this leave with her? Still, it was his daughter. But I don't know, perhaps the signor was aroused by what Master David was doing. I was.
During the main course, I piped up finally. "Dr. Hoffman, has your daughter begun eating yet?"
"Ja, thankfully," he said. His authentic German accent drenched my ear and made the heat rise in me again. "She has begun to be eating small portions of bread und other such things, and her progress goes famously. Ja, she was having much difficulty, und she is still very thin, but she comes."
And so do I, if you keep talking, Doctor, I thought to myself. Doctor Hoffman wasn't always happily married. I'd met him working in Barcelona where he'd had quite a bit of agression to work out. It was quite misogynistic, so I'm glad I could help him. Whenever he talks, I can still hear him hissing German obscenities in my ear from behind me. Now, he speaks softly, but every so often, I catch the glimpse of the evil in his eye that used to drive me wild in Barcelona. He really enjoyed me, and I him.
Miss Katz turned to Dr. Hoffman and spoke in her lovely Yiddish accent. "Your daughter wasn't eating?"
"Mm, ja," he spoke with disdain to her. He did not know this woman, nor (I could see) did he particularly appreciate that she had spoken to him out of turn, and I was reasonably sure he'd picked up on the Jewish accent. In his voice I could hear the menacing tones that had brought me to many an orgasm. This was not going to end well. It was going to end wonderfully!
"Ja, she is yet a small child, und she choked two months ago on a piece of sausage. She could not breathe, und it made her quite terrified of food altogether. We were rather worried." I could feel the heat rising inside me, thinking of choking on sausage. My palette became dry, my head swam; I was in severe danger of embarassing myself.
"We tried everything, but she wouldn't eat. So, we took her to the doctor ..." I knew I had to get out of there.
"Please excuse me!" I said as I ran from the room; up a flight of stairs, into the guests' bathroom. There, I was shocked to find Signorina Dacini.
"How did you get here, Signorina?" I asked.
"I had to leave! It was getting too much. Didn't you see?" she asked.
"No, I wasn't paying much attention to anything else besides Doctor Hoffman's voice!" I replied.
"I cannot stand that man!" Anna-Maria shook her head sorrowfully. "He seems to hate me."
"He hates himself, and enjoys taking it out on women. Don't worry, he won't hurt you without consent. I've made amply sure of that," I told her and put my hand on her small bare arm. She would not make eye-contact with me.
"What's wrong, Signorina?" I asked, holding her face in my hand. Still, she refused to look at me, and pulled her hand from my face.
