Estate Of Flowers 1 1 Sylvia

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.

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*This story was originally submitted to rec.arts.erotica where it was posted under the names SL Lady and Susan Lance (aka Sera Shine). It has been included in various masturbation collections online since that time. 1995-2002 All rights reserved.*