The road was bumpy, the carriage wheels jolted and hopped over stones and ruts as it made its way through the darkening wood. The professor and his mistress sat comfortably in the plush interior, warm with the glow of a tiny stove as snowflakes drifted past outside. The finely wrought springs in the undercarriage turned the hard jolts of the road into a gliding and swooping movement that Ilsa found exciting. In the warmth of the cabin she had shrugged off her cloak of white fur. Her short dress of fine metallic cloth draped loosely around her long neck and barely covered her breasts. The hem rode high up her thighs as she sat next to the professor on the leather bench, clinging to his arm as the cabin pitched. The dark-haired man was distinguished in his robes, he looked at her over his spectacles and put his hand on her bare thigh. "We shall be there soon." Ilsa took a deep breath. She knew that if she let herself really feel the motion, she would succumb to one her fits and now was not the time. She shut her eyes tight and thought of the cold, cold snow outside.
The carriage emerged from the dark wood into a vast circular clearing covered in snow at the center of a bowl shaped valley surrounded by forested slopes and sharp glacial peaks. From the flat of the clearing rose a compound of black stone walls and slate-roofed towers. Warm light from tall windows and outdoor lanterns suffused the mist and falling snow with an orange glow.
Ashcroft College of Arts and Sciences had stood in the the valley known as the Cauldron for ages. The site was atop a natural hot spring which had probably enabled a settlement in ancient times to withstand the cruel winters of the region. Over centuries the original structures were blended into great stoneworks by mad engineers, adding level upon level with no master plan. Great pipes rose among the arches and buttresses, harnessing steam to power machinery and provide heat to the complex of looming buildings.
The dormitories of the College were filled with young adults from rich noble families. For many it was a place to be idle and out of the way for a while so they could indulge in youthful indiscretion without embarrassing their names. For others, there was real practical knowledge to be gained in everything from philosophy to agriculture to engineering and the arts. For a select few that possessed the requisite gifts and connections, secret studies in the arcane brought knowledge of an entirely different type.
The road in the open meadow was well maintained and kept free of snow by steam piped below the surface. The carriage whisked through the outer gate with a cursory glance from the guards and wound through the steaming streets towards a hill that rose near the outer ring of the complex. There stood an enormous mansion with tall windows and steep roofed dormers adorned with motifs in black iron. At the arrival of the carriage in the circle drive, a party of servants emerged from the grand entrance to assist the new arrivals.
Ilsa's slender form, bundled in white fur, descended from the carriage and stood precariously on the cobblestones in tall stiletto heels. The Professor stepped down behind her. As they walked up the steps to the entrance, he looked around with a sense of satisfaction. He had been away for over a year, but he was pleased in knowing that the results of his research abroad would be of utmost interest to the man he had come to visit.
Dean Oron Vuso met them at the massive wood and iron door. Warm light shone behind him as he extended his arms, beaming at the professor. "The eminent Professor Rhoas Powers! My old friend. It has been far too long." He gave the professor a hearty embrace and received one in return. "Wow, Roas! You've put on some bulk since last we met. Knowing you, it's muscle rather than fat." He punched the professor in the shoulder playfully, but not gently. Professor Powers laughed. "Healthy living, my friend. Once I left this morose mausoleum of Academia some things improved, what can I say?"
The Dean answered with a sarcastic smile. "Ah, so you mean when you left us your brain atrophied and you substituted mental exercise for physical?"
"Something like that." They both chuckled and the Dean turned to look at Ilsa. Her fur cloak had slipped off her shoulders and she stood looking around with awe at the luxurious entry hall, her sparse metallic dress glittering and her smooth skin glowing in the light of the chandeliers. She returned a sweet and bashful smile when she realized the dean was looking her over. She offered her hand, and he held it for a moment, looking deep into her eyes, before he leaned over to kiss it. "You are most welcome to Ashcroft, my dear. I am at your service."
The professor chuckled. "Beware of him my dear. Silver-tongued devils and all that." The dean shot him a wink as he stood upright. "You speak truthfully, old friend. Come, let us refresh ourselves in my study. The servants will take your belongings to your chambers." A maid in a corset dress and black stockings helped Ilsa shrug out of her cloak and took the professor's overcoat before departing down the hall after the porters with the luggage cart.
There was a fire roaring in the hearth of the large study casting flickering shadows on the dark wood-paneled walls. The hem of Ilsa's short dress rose as she sat on the luxurious couch and the thick plush velvet caressed the back of her bare thighs. The sensation caught her off guard. She resisted the feeling coming over her, and tried to focus on her posture, it was important to remain in control. She sat up straight, knees together, chest out. With this movement she became acutely aware of her nipples sliding beneath the thin strips of metallic fabric draped over her breasts. Additionally, the rear hem of the dress had risen up the curve of her ass and now the soft velvet touched the skin of her bare vulva. She felt the room shift, the sensation was overwhelming.
She quickly became aware of a tight grip on her upper arm and the professor whispering something angry in her ear. She snapped out of it, blushing bright red. At a table by a tall frosted window of leaded glass, the dean had picked up a crystal decanter of amber liquor and some glasses and was coming to sit with them. "Although it is long past dinner, you must be famished. I have ordered a few items from the kitchen to be brought up..."
He noticed Ilsa's flushed demeanor with a concerned smile. "Are you okay, my dear?"
"Ilsa's just exhausted from our long trip," the professor interjected.
"Ah, perhaps she would like retire to the chambers we have prepared for you?" He looked at Ilsa with pity. "You could rest and be spared the boredom of listening to us catch up. I can send up some food when it arrives, if you wish."
"I would be most grateful," Ilsa responded, relieved to be provided an escape from the sensory overload. Her nerves in these unfamiliar surroundings made her feel precarious.
The dean rang a bell and another maid in stockings entered the room. They all rose and Ilsa offered bashful apologies. The professor kissed her on the cheek before she was escorted up a flight of carpeted stairs.
The dean looked after her for a moment before turning to the professor. "You have done quite well, Rhoas. She is exquisite."
