18+, Nonconsensual/dubious consent. All characters depicted over 18.
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"How provincial..."
A phrase lipped with a sneer that described my whole life, until she walked down the aisle at Mass. From the corner of my eyes, a flash of silver and yellow ribbons filled the dull church. The Comtesse des Barresβher very name sends shivers down my spine. I mouthed the "Amens" like dust and knelt and rose through the ceremony like a dumb beast. All I wanted to do was drink the new Parisian beauty with my eyes and I stared at her back as she spoke with the General's wife.
I searched everywhere for information about the woman, pestering the servants, bothering my mother, until I learned those three magical words, Comtesse des Barres. After that, it was a matter of waiting for an invitation. My mother, the Marquise de le Grise, and I, were always invited to the General's.
I put on my best dress, expecting her there. I was not disappointed. Her tall lithe form commanded the room, diamonds glittering in her hair and patches prancing about her face.
My heart thrilled at having her close, at being able to gaze upon her. When she approached me, all I was able to do was put on a pleasant expression.
"Mademoiselle de la Grise, I hope you do not find me forward, but too much of your bosom shows. Not that it is not a delightful bosom, white as snow, soft as goose down." Her eyes drifted to the subject, her lips curling in a voluptuous smile.
That expanse of skin flushed red as she adjusted my linen collar.
"Thank you, Comtesse des Barres," I stammered.
My mother smiled and took my hand. "Yes, thank you Comtesse." She knew we lived in the backwaters of France, and were glittering bird like the Comtesse to become my patron, it would help me make much of my supposed beauty.
"Her hair is not dressed to her advantage either," the Comtesse continued. She made me sit in her lap to arrange my hair. The scent of rose swirled around me as she moved, her diamonds throwing off little sparks of light. Each time her finger brushed my cheek, my heartbeat sped.
My mother clapped her hands in delight. "You were quite right Comtesse. Her hair looks almost as splendid as your own."
"My woman, Madame Bouju, could teach her how to arrange her hair," the Comtesse said, her elegant hands on my shoulders. She turned me toward her and kissed me. So many strange feelings rose in me at the feel of her lips against mine. I started when she spoke. "I will send her to you."
"Nonsense," the Abbe interjected, "you should not deprive yourself of your servant."
My mother's smile only faded for a moment before curling her lips again. "Why, it would not be necessary. I will send my daughter to you."
The Comtesse caught my chin in her long fingers and took another kiss, this one lingering on my lips. "What a delightful idea."
The night after that is a blur to me. I remember many wet warm kisses from the Comtesse and how they seemed to touch places of me that I didn't know I had. Unable to contain my joy the next morning as we packed, I plagued the servants and pestered my mother.