Well, I can not stay in bed all day, oh wait I could...if I planned it that way, but I have not and I start my day.  In my dressing gown, I survey my schedule and think about the "costume" changes I'll have to make today.  It is like a show after all, we all have our parts to play.  I am just grateful that my life does not revolve around dresses and teas and being the perfect wife.  Yes I have to change outfits depending on the event, but so does everyone according to social traditions.  My life doesn't revolve around them so much as the events that require them.  If I were stuck at home knitting I would have gone out of my mind by now. 

Not to say I do not visit ladies during their calling hours, but only as part of my social life, not as a regular diet.  Again, it is because of my close friends that I can still get in these doors.  That and my family name, because even if I am a whore, they don't dare cut me because my family's holdings are still considerable, many of the banks in town depend on the family wealth to cover the margins when crops fail or ships do not come home.

Today is simple for me, it is Sunday and there are certain things that must be observed.  First is Church, a staple in this city to see and be seen as well as to fulfill obligations to Mother Church.  After careful consideration I pick the appropriate dress and with Maria's help I am soon heading out the door and into the waiting coach.  It is a beautiful morning, the sun is shining and I open my parasol to protect myself.  The drive down to St Louis is short and I am walking up the stairs in perfect time for the service.  I join the congregation in the back and settle in for the duration. Being that Oncle is the Bishop I am careful of appearances and do my duty as required by social mores.  Again, my lifestyle does not come into question until I stop doing what is expected of me.  As it is not a feast day the new abbe' is performing the rituals.  He is a favorite among the older matrons who enjoy having a young man they may talk to without causing a scandal.  He is also popular with the younger parishioners as his sermons are witty and topical.

Despite my calling and usual habits I have taken to talking to our abbe' quite frequently.  Actually, my Oncle suggested it after his arrival and what started with just confessions has turned into religious instruction as well.  To protect his reputation and mine, we usually meet early before the morning mass so I can slip in and out without too much notice.  It has actually become a secret joke between us because of the dicotomy of our friendship.  Little did I realize just how much the morning mass attendees really see.

After Mass we all start for the door following the abbe' and his attendants.  Small groups form chatting and making plans for the day.  I am just reaching the abbe' and as we are about to exchange greetings my friends Charlotte and Aaron come up and greeting me address the abbe'. 

"So, abbe', do tell, who is your mysterious guest at confession early before morning mass?"  Charlotte asks all agog at the idea of a rumour in her very church.  As I said, our young abbe' has been a favorite of the younger parishioners and we all are guilty of being informal with him.

"I am afraid I do not know who you speak of Ms Charlotte, and even if I did I would be bound by the office of confession from telling you who it could be."  He replies with a wicked grin enjoying feeding Charlotte's sense of drama.

"Taryn, make him tell us, really we are his closest friends and we would be careful with his secrets wouldn't we be?"  She implores me.

"What are you talking about and what makes you think I could do anything to make our dear abbe' reveal his secrets?"  Enjoying the game I play along.

"Of course you know how to get secrets out of men, any man, anyway," she continues in one breath, 'there is a rumour that there is a mysterious woman in black who attends to confession early before morning mass, spends her time closeted away with our dear abbe' before disappearing before people arrive for mass.  It is all very unusual do you not think Taryn??  Why would anyone need to be so secretive and surely it is not anyone from our parish is it?  She finally stops to take a breath and wait for our response.

I look toward the abbe' as if to question him myself and all he does is smile in good humour and shake his head.  Then when Charlotte and Aaron are not looking he winks at me and we both share a knowing smile.  He then whispers "Tomorrow" and I nod.

Finally Aaron takes his wife under control with much amusement and we discuss the day's plans.  Charlotte is off to her sister's who has been laying in since her last baby and Aaron is begging off as there are too many children and not enough alcohol there with her brother-in-law out of town on business he chooses to make other arrangements.

"Well, then, you all can be sticks in the mud, abbe' if you are interested dinner is at 3, you know you are always welcome."  Charlotte waves and as an afterthought, "you don't mind seeing Taryn home do you? There is no reason to not enjoy this beautiful day or are you set on locking yourself in the office again?"

"No, of course not dear, it is the Sabbath after all,  perhaps I can impose on Taryn's cook to feed your wayward husband."  Smiling, Aaron kisses his wife chastely and escorts us both to the waiting carriages.  We say our good days to the abbe' and make our way to my home.

Greeting us at the door Maria smiles warmly and takes our things while I usher Aaron into the parlor.  "Oh, Maria, see if Josephine wouldn't mind feeding our friend here, it seems his wife sent him to church without any breakfast."

"Of course Ms Taryn, we can't have him wasting away now can we?"  She leaves us to our own devices while she sees to things.

"Will it be coffee or bourbon Aaron?"  I ask gently resting on the arm of his chair.  

"Coffee please, I really am not that reliant on spirits, at least not this early in the day." He says relaxing back in his seat and rubbing my back.  "I'm glad we have some quiet time today."

"Yes, that was sweet of Charlotte to go without you I understand you have been putting in more hours than usual, you really must take care of yourself, or let us women do a little more for you."

Maria comes in with the coffee service and I rise to take my place and serve. "If my work and house ran as smoothly as yours does I would have more time for the finer things in life.   My complements Maria, I know it is mostly your doing"  Aaron makes a small bow in her direction.

"Thank you, Mr. Aaron, I appreciate someone noticing."  She jokes back.  "And Josephine thinks she might be able to do something about your problem, she is excited that someone appreciates her cooking." 

"I'm feeling a bit abused myself today,"  I joke along, " Maybe I should leave and let you do the entertaining."

"No thank you ma'am, I couldn't handle being so leisurely."  Maria smiles and skips out the door before I can throw anything at her.

Pouring coffee the way he likes it and offer him the cup and saucer.  We make more small talk and just enjoy each other's company.  Maria comes in shortly to tell us brunch is ready and we make our way into the dining room.  More hot coffee, eggs, bacon, ham, benets, and all the trimmings await us, enough for 10 of us, but that is the way Josephine reminds us she loves us, by burying us in food.  It will not go to waste, what we do not eat now will feed the staff as well as some of the less fortunates in the community. 

Just as we are finishing up Josephine herself brings in a fresh batch of sweet tea.  

"Thank you Josephine, what a fine meal you served us."  Aaron graciously admits.

"But of course Mr. Aaron, we can't have you starving on us now can we?" 

"That isn't likely to happen anytime soon, thank goodness."  Aaron flirts with her as she takes away the platters and which leaves us with the rest of the afternoon to fill...I think we can find something to occupy our time.

And one last one....really
( Read more... )

Again, here's to new friends...
( Read more... )

I don't normally stray from the story line, but I'd like to get to know more about the new friends I've made!
( Read more... )

Feeling well used and content with myself I stretch like a cat in bed this morning.  One thing you should know about me is I do enjoy my work, and because of this I feel I am good at it.  My clientele list would also attest to that.  You see, once I learned what my fate would be I felt I should at least learn something and get out of it something for myself besides the means to take care of myself.  Luckily for me I had a good pedigree so I was not left to the back streets and the whore houses as other such girls might have been.  I had enough of my parents in me to enjoy the finer things in life and had the bloodline which gives a measure of proper behavior and etiquette that can not be taught.  Not to say that I do not have customers who want a wanton woman in bed, and I can be that and more, but they have a lady on their arm when they attend public functions.

Because of my unique status in the community I am allowed a certain freedom most other women will never experience.  I can attend Mass, although I am conscious of appearances and try to sit discretely in the back of the church.  I can attend parties unaccompanied although it is very rare that I am not on someone's arm.  I can study books from the best libraries in town including the church fathers' and debate with the best of them.  I can also go to the darker side of town, I know the best Voodoo Priestesses and where to go for the best Hoodoo magic.  Unlike my elevated brethren I know the benefit of the diversity of cultures and what they can offer.  And where I can I try to alleviate their suffering where I can, unlike the City Mothers who do it out of "Christian Charity" to look good to the rest of the Ton.

What this means is I have been privy to things most gentile people will never see.  I have been invited into the darker sides of the City and witness things that would make most people turn in fear.  Walking veiled on the arm of my gentlemen I have been taken to many a Quadroon Ball where I was amazed at the beauty and grace of the ladies there.  I've seen Voodoo Celebrations both in town and at my family plantation.  I have also known the touch of dark hands on my pale skin without shame or regret.  For this, thinking that all men are created equal, I would be run out of town on a rail before I was ever chastized for being a courtesan.

My first encounter with a with a man of colour was shortly after the death of my Pere.  I was back at the plantation going through the accounts and I was spending much of my time with our Overseer Jacob.  He had been part of the family as long as I have been, in fact my Grand Pere had purchased him when I was born.  He was five years older than me but had taken to protecting me as a big brother and it was he who taught me to climb trees.  Here after years of seperation we fell into the companionable familiarity again.

We were touring the farm, discussing the plans I had for freeing the people here and reuniting them with their families.   A chance to do something right and protect our people.  We shouldn't have been surprised by the afternoon rainstorm but we both had a lot on our minds.  We raced our horses toward a unused sugar mill sheltering them under the eaves and leaving them to find shelter for ourselves.  The old building smelled of old wood, machinery and the sweet dust of sugar.  We explored the knooks and crannies trying to avoid the leaks in the roof.  Finally in a corner we found a stack of old sacks, taking the top one off to clear away some of the dust Jacob, the perfect gentleman, encouraged me to sit.  I took only a corner and patted the place next to me.

"You taught me how to climb trees and steal carrots from the cook's gardens I think we're beyond proprieties now aren't we?"

Laughing, Jacob agreed sitting next to me and for the next while we reminiced about childhoood escapades.  After a while of this though I shifted uncomfortably on my perch and in an effort to help Jacob wrapped me up in his arm and tucked me close to him.  This gentleness was unexpected after the recent events in my life and just what I needed.  I melted into him and enjoyed the warmth of his presence.  Soon I felt myself drifting off as I curled up, my head in his lap. I fell alseep to the soft touch of his fingers in my damp hair.

A little while later, just as dusk was desending, I woke to a different sensation, a warm hand on my breast and something hard under my head.  Amused and a little disoriented I sat up suddenly and caught the look of the cat that ate the canary on Jacob's face.  You could read on his face what was running  through his head.

"I could not help it, Mistress," he said in a whisper.  knowing full well he could be lynched or even killed for what had just happened.

"And what would happen if you could help it?"  I smiled back at him.

He looked at me in disbelief and as if a barrier was dropped and he pulled my face to his and kissed me deeply.  When he let go we were both trembling and I was gasping for air.  "Well that's start" I said in reply.

Jacob draws me to him again kissing me as one hand holds me to him and the other finds its way back to my breast.  I hold on for dear life, stroking his face, neck and back feeling his strong muscles.  He tastes of spice and vanilla and there is a hint of sweet from the dust here and I nibble on his lips and trail down his neck and ear earning a groan from him and him holding me tighter as his fingers tighten on to my nipple making me gasp as payment.

This seems to spur him on as he drags my bottom across his lap till I'm straddling him, face-to-face.  He pulls my riding skirts out of the way and opens his trousers sliding my hips forward until I am poised, dripping above his cock.  Still working on his ear I give him a nip and he growls, pulling me forcefully down on him until I feel like he is splitting me open.  I am shocked that he is still thrusting and I fear I can't take all of him in until I come to a very sudden stop.  He looks at me and asks if I trust him.  I nod, not trusting my voice, and he whispers in my ear, making me shudder, "relax".

I nod again, holding on to his shoulders and wiggling to set myself, his hands finds my hips and feeling my body relax in his care in one movement he thrusts up and pushes me down on him.  Impailed to the base of his shaft I scream his name and almost pass out from the feeling.  Jacob supports me but the excitement caused by this only makes him harder and more driven to complete the conquest of my deepest self.  I am a rag doll in his arms as he thrusts in and out of me driving deeper and deeper into me so he hugs me to him, getting his feet under him on the floor stands and piviots, depositing me still impailed on his cock unceremonially on the sacks and continues is on slaught.  I pull myself together long enough to open my dress so I can feel his body on mine.  He doesn't stop fucking me but dives in on my nipples sucking each one in turn biting them making me weaker with desire.  I am intrigued by the contrast tones of our skin I lavish in the touch of his hands on my flesh.  The rough fabric of his shift makes goose bumps on my flesh as I hold onto him for dear life.  My increased weakness seems to spur him on and I am at his mercy as I feel his body tense and his cock explode inside me, his juices pouring out around his cock and down my ass onto the sacks.

He is at the point of collapse but instead he gathers me up in his arms and rolls to the side pulling me closer and nuzzling my hair.  We sleep safe in each other's arms and I have to say it was the best rest I've had in longer than I can remember.

I wake at the sensation of being forced, face first into the makeshift bed.  I am being held there as my skirts are being pushed up out of the way.  Jacob moves as a man possessed.  This time there is no talk, no foreplay, only the satisfaction of a need.  I feel his hardness push between my cheeks and with a smear of saliva penetrates me, pulling my cheeks apart to facilitate burying himself to the hilt.  Holding me down at the shoulders, his legs pushing mine apart as he tries to push through me to the bed below.  This is so much tighter so much rougher and I find my body responding.  Even with his weight on me I have enough left in me to draw my hips up bringing my bottom into his crotch.  He grunts and pistons himself in me spending himself deep in my ass.  This time he pushes away from me, rolling over, leaving me feeling wasted and used.

Without saying anything Jacob gets up, goes down to the horses where I hear some shuffling and a whinny as I hear one run off.  He walks back up and says that its late, he's going back to the house to report I've fallen off my horse and was knocked out for a while.  As soon as I had come around he left to get help.  He will bring back a wagon for me and eventually my riderless horse will return to the stables confirming our story.

He is about to leave but I call out to him just in time.  "Wait, what happened?"

He stops, his shoulders slump forward.  "We, I mean you, got what you wanted, now it's time to get back."

"Is that what you think of me?"

"You are your father's daughter" He spits back.  "I know how your family operates."

"Well...then...you should go, before it gets too late."

He walks down the stairs and I hear him ride off.  I have too much time to contemplate what just happened, and I am still baffled when I hear voices and the sound of wagon wheels approaching.

Maria is with them, demanding to see me, bustling about giving orders for my trip back to the house.  If I weren't so devistated by this latest turn of events I would be giggling at her power over these men.  Everyone makes the appropriate fuss over me and I do my best to appear dazed which isn't too hard right now.  The loving assault on my body earlier makes it easy to fake injuries from a fall.  The only thing left is my pride which is already so bruised it doesn't matter.

Jacob comes back to my side and in one fell swoop grabs me up in his arms protectively carrying me down to the wagon.  I took this opportunity at privacy to speak to him quietly.

"Thank you for your kindness despite my apparent rudeness.  I'm sorry to have taken advantage of our friendship that way."

He stopped in the act of depositing me in the wagon and looked at me strangely, straightening up his apperance softened and he quickly walked back to the rest of the crew to organize the trip back.  Maria settled in beside me and kept my mind from what had happened tonight.

Back at the house I settled in and for the next few days I played it low key remaining inside or on the veranda apparently recovering from my fall. Almost everyone just took my quiet attitude as part of it.  Maria knew better but refused to pry.   Finally one morning while everyone else were busy about their duties Jacob caught up to me in the music room.

"Mistress"

"Jacob"

"I want to apologise for my behavior the other day."

"No need, I'm sorry, I would never have crossed that boundary had I known you did not feel the same way.  And as we discussed, there is a group of former slaves being transported North this week to new homes and lives there, if you prefer you may go with them.  If you decided to stay I will limit contact to business matters only."

"You know I would never leave here," he starts. "or you."  He seemed to lose the thread of thought then suddenly, "Oh never mind let me show you..."  Grabbing my arm pulled me up and pulled me towards the main stairs and up to the master bedroom.  Closing and locking the door without even looking at my reaction he turned back to me and pulled me to him, kissing me until my knees were weak and he had my full attention.

"I have had these thoughts as long as I can remember and since the other day, since I had you it only makes my desire worse."  He kissed me again nibbling down my neck before speaking again.  "I was protecting myself for your reaction, I'm sorry to say, your mother crossed the line while you were gone and who was I to refuse, I just expected you to be just like your parents.  I should have known better."  This long winded sentence over he took a deep breath and waited for my outburst.  He was shocked when I pulled his head to mine and kissed him again.

That visit was one of the best memories I have of the old plantation, it definately helped to erase some of the pain of the memories I grew up with.  Jacob and I took time to enjoy each other every stolen moment we could.  Maria would smile knowingly at me at the return of her "more bubbly mistress."  Jacob even confessed to me later that she had told him whatever he did to upset me he had better fix before she took matters into her own hands and he would not like that at all.

A visit home is always a treat for me now, and a chance to catch up with old friends.

I have made my decision about the necklace and I feel everyone’s eyes on me as I step out of the carriage at the opera house tonight.  The jeweler has out done himself this time it is unlike anything seen in the Quarter yet.  As I take my escort’s arm I can sense his pleasure at being seen with me tonight thinking that everyone is staring at him for his choice in company.  Perhaps I am the one being too proud maybe they are all staring at him. 

 

My gown is the colour of the ocean during a storm, the necklace on my creamy skin glistens like rain drops together they make me appear to be Mother Nature crying.  Those who are in the know smile wickedly at my decision and those who do not know the story behind the gift just smile at the beauty created for me.  I smile my most delicious, dangerous smile and enjoy the gossip I am creating tonight.  As we enter the great hall I notice the gentleman responsible for this and making eye contact I make sure he realizes exactly what I was portraying here.  I can tell by his petulant look and slight bow that he realizes that his penance is not over yet.

 

We all continue into our seats and wait for the real show to begin.  Our musical guest is conducting someone else’s work tonight as his opera is still in rehearsal.  I am told our resident conductor was insulted at the idea of turning over “his” orchestra to this stranger but when reminded by his patrons of who actually owns the Opera House he quickly changed his tune.

 

Jasmine is in her element, I can see her across the audience fluttering around like a butterfly she is so excited about tonight’s performance and it is not even Charles’ work.  Her husband is laughing indulgently at her and those in the know smile happily at them for they are one of the truly happy and monogamous couples in New Orleans.  There are times when I look at her happiness and wish it for myself, but after a week with them in the country I am very glad for my freedom and lifestyle.

 

The curtain rises and the orchestra starts the opening number.  Everyone waits patiently to see how this newcomer will handle this notoriously difficult orchestra.  There are some who are waiting to see him fail, and those who are hoping to replace our current conductor.  It is almost comical to see the two factions waiting with baited breath for the outcome of tonight’s performance.

 

Using this distraction to his advantage my escort tonight pulls me back from the edge of the box and seats me in the darken corner on a small settee.  I flutter my fan as if I am shocked by his brazenness.  He laughs and tells me not to be coy, that he knows I am as wild as he is.  With that he pulls a beautiful double strand of pearls (my favorite) from his pocket and drapes them across my chest and over my shoulder.  Knowing me as well as he does he knows I would be doing this with or without the pearls makes the transaction even naughtier for me.  We both know what is proper and we both tend to throw caution to the wind and do what we please.   I guess that is one advantage to being a courtesan, I’m not expected to follow the norm.

In the darkness of the corner my partner runs his finger along the edge of my dress, just above my nipples.  Despite how experienced I am at the art of love I still shiver at the light, teasing touch.  It is not so much for the anticipation of what is to come tonight but rather for the excitement of the situation.  It is a game we play, seeing if either of us can cause an outburst in a public place.  My companion is a spoiled, eldest son of a banker so he really does not have much in the way of limitations on his life and I do believe that he sets about to test this theory every morning when he wakes up.  Knowing his father as I do I know of the scrapes that he has gotten his favorite son out of in the past.  I often wonder if his father is doing him any favours, however I am not one to dictate morals am I?

 

My companion quickly draws my attention back to the present in a most delicious way.  Not being happy with just teasing my nipples through the silk of my dress, he has freed one of them and it has popped happily out of my corset and is sitting pink and perky against the white of my skin.  With one arm holding me back against the settee, the other hand cupping the other breast he takes the freed nipple into his mouth and starts playing with it with his tongue.  The pleasure courses through me all the way to my toes, he does know what I like and despite his spoiled appearance he is a generous lover.  Which I might add I feel I contributed to teaching him in order for him to enjoy the love making his partner should be enjoying it as well.  I was pleased to find him a very enthusiastic student.

 

There is a bite and I am again brought back to the moment.  Oh, it is going to be very hard to not lose our little game tonight.  Maybe it is the events of the last few weeks, but I feel a heightened sense of everything lately and I can not say I am not enjoying it all.  But I am not so distracted that I can not play back.  Taking his free hand off my breast I bring it to my lips and begin playing with the index finger.  He has enjoyed my company long enough to know exactly what I am doing and exactly what it means.  He stops his “assault” on my nipple breathing hard against my chest.  I grin wickedly against his fingers and he changes tactics.  He turns his nibbling attention to my neck.  While this is not anymore erotic than what he was doing he still knows that it will get a reaction from me and possibly break my defenses enough to “win”.

 

I am ready for this tactic and have a plan of my own.  Releasing his hand I gently reach for his cock, turning my head to break his contact with my neck, and while stroking him gently through the cloth of his trousers I begin whispering naughty things in his ear as I lick and nibble on it.  We both know the game and are willing to do almost anything to win and tonight is no different.  He suddenly sits up, looks devilishly at me, and falls to his knees in front of me.  This is not how the game usually goes this is not how things are usually played out.

 

Suddenly he has his hands on the hem of my skirts.  My breath catches in my throat as I begin to realize what he is thinking.  Knowing that we are far enough back in the box I am not too afraid of getting caught, however, I am shocked at his brazenness.  I am extremely intoxicated by his touch on my ankles, my calves, my knees, my thighs.  His head is completely hidden by the layers of my skirts and he makes more room for himself by pushing my thighs further apart.  I can feel his warm moist breath on my thighs through the thin linen of my undergarments.

 

For those of you who are not fortunate enough to know the inner workings of the women’s wardrobe let me explain how normally such inadequate garments are sometimes makes what is about to happen much easier.  We have our normal garments that men see everyday, but we are forced to wear many more layers in order to make the final product look good.  These include, from the top down, the corset, giving us that great hour-glass look; hoops and or crinolines giving the skirts their fullness and structure (and takes hours of practice learning the right way to sit in them);  a chemise, to protect the corset and our dresses from our bodily sweat and oils (does one understand how much work it is to clean 15 to 20 yards of fragile fabric); the next is a pair of stockings, sheer and lightweight if you are lucky, tied with garters to keep them up, and finally, a pair of linen pantalettes now here is the piece of clothing that makes tonight possible.  They are actually two separate legs brought up and tied at the waist, which means, nothing covering the sweet spots my partner is now angling towards.

 

I am holding on to the edge of the seat for dear life as I feel his moist breath on my very sensitive lips.  Then I feel his hand move up to where his mouth is.  Knowing that it will be me who is embarrassed if I call out he feels safe to do as he pleases down there.  And from all our lessons he knows all my most sensitive spots and he makes the most of this knowledge.  His tongue begins its assault on my clit, the most sensitive spot on my body this alone could get me to cry out if I was not so afraid of making noise.  But not satisfied with that his hand goes to work on the folds of my pussy before he inserts his thumb deep into me and I bite back the gasp that I’ve been holding in since he crawled up under my skirts.  Working his thumb in and out of me does not stop him from continuing his work on my clit.  I am squirming now not so much from the pleasure but from the pain, my clit is so sensitive that I can barely focus on anything but that.  We both know I will not be able to hold out much longer before the pain becomes too great and I know that is exactly what he is waiting for so that he will win.  And yet I am not so keen to have him win, I would like to show him that he is not the only one who can push things to the limit.  I feel him nip my thigh and I can tell he is becoming playfully frustrated that I have not given in yet thinking he always wins and should not have to fight this hard for another victory.  He pulls his thumb out of me and I know that I am going to pay for my disobedience.  Just as I am about to think he is not going to “punish” me further he pushes his thumb, still wet from me, into my ass.  With this I gasp, not loud but enough I feel to let him know he has won this round.  But he does not stop he seems intent on getting me back for making him work for this win.  His tongue is back to work on my pussy and between the two “attacks” I feel myself giving into the pleasure despite our surroundings.  Now he takes another finger and pushes into my pussy.  Both fingers working piston-like on my two holes and I am rocking back and forth with the pleasure.  Knowing I will do my best to behave myself he continues to pleasure me and we both know we are bucking tradition and that we both enjoy the moment more so because of our rebellion.  With that I feel my body give in to the final release and I know I am bathing his face with my juices.  Slowly and smoothly I feel him withdraw his fingers and then himself from under my skirts.  Laughing under his breath as he uses his handkerchief to clean his face he smells it deeply before placing it back into his pocket.  And instead of letting us leave to go relax in a more appropriate setting he pulls me to my weak legs and ushers me back to our seats in the front of the box.  I smile at him with a pout and set back to watch the real show.  I look across the theater to see how Jasmine is enjoying herself and I see that she has noticed our absence and I can tell I am going to have some explaining to do when next we meet.  Which is this evening as her husband is hosting a late dinner for a few well chosen friends.

 

Fluttering my fan I sigh and try to listen to the music, but the orchestra is not doing well tonight and I notice that even Jasmine looks disappointed which explains why she was able to notice my absence.

 

After the performance we all make our way down to the carriages and drive off to Jasmine’s for dinner.  The house is well lit and welcoming and there is a quartet playing in the courtyard where they can be heard and not over powering.  There are servants walking around with trays of glasses, champagne, mint juleps and whiskey.  Conversations swirl around us as we move from room to room.  It will be a while yet before dinner is served and I can tell my companion is not ready to join any of the conversations we have come across yet.  Because we are both good friends of the family we both know this house well and he does his best to walk us through to the more intimate parts of the house without being seen.  Luckily we find an empty room, it is the Master’s office it is lit with a single candle, just enough to make our way around to the chair behind the desk.  Before I can do anything to help he has pulled the chair out of the way and bent me forward over the desk.  Knowing what is about to happen I hold on to the edges of the desk for dear life my elbows digging into the dark wood.  He pulls up my crinolines and throws them unceremoniously over me pulling the pantalettes apart and opening his breeches.  With little care and concern he slams himself to the hilt into my soaking wet pussy.  His hands on my shoulders for purchase he rocks back and forth inside me riding me hard and fast.  He might have learned to please his partner but he is a man and does have his own needs to satisfy.  He continues to ride me, pounding me from behind in wild abandon.  I help him a long with a few choice words telling him how it felt for him to assault me in the theater tonight.  Both of us give into the pleasure of it all and I feel his release match mine.  We both take a minute to catch our breath and then he pulls my skirts down and helps me to stand.  He does his best to make sure I am still presentable and he fastens up his pants before replaces the chair where it belongs and guides me to the door.

 

We rejoin the party and make small talk until dinner is ready and we make our way to the dining room. Because she is the hostess Jasmine has not been able to corner me about my behavior but I know we will be catching up soon enough. 

Left with time before I need to get ready for tonight I settle myself in a settee with a book and a cold glass of sweet tea.  But my mind is not on the pages in front of me, but rather the dilemma that has confronted me this week.  I am surprised that it has not happened before now, but I have been extremely lucky since this all started.  If one can consider going from debutante of one of the most respected families in the Delta to shunned courtesan lucky.

It did not happen overnight but it was a nightmare for me that I was afraid I would never wake from.  I sigh as the memories of the past five years come rushing back as if it were only yesterday.  My father was the youngest son of one of the biggest landowners in Louisiana.   Grandfather was of Acadian descent and had married the beautiful daughter of a Spanish nobleman.  The two were quite a pair and were known for their fiery tempers and passions.  They had three sons and two daughters that survived and raised them to have the same temperament as theirs.  Despite this, the eldest son, Georges, was called to the Church and no matter how my grandfather harangued him he wanted nothing to do with the plantation, or more accurately, anything to do with the temporal world.  That left my Oncle Pierre and my father and my father was not one to be second to anyone.  My Tauntes were not expected to be anything other than prizes to be bartered to the highest bidder and threw themselves whole heartedly into being mere objects with nothing to offer other than the dowries provided by their father.  Their poor husbands were handed demanding, selfish, objects unable to do anything other than look pretty at their tables and spend their money.  With the children grown and her child bearing years over it seemed as if my Grand pere had no more use for my Grand mere and seeming to know this she slipped away one morning in her sleep so as not to cause anyone any trouble.

With Oncle Georges out of the way, the two sons were left to struggle it out for Grandfather's blessing and inheritance.  As next oldest I am sure Uncle Pierre believed he was heir apparent.  It left him complacent and flippant about things that would soon matter.  In an effort to lull him into a deeper sense of fearlessness, my father begged my Grand pere for a Grand Tour of Europe.  Wanting to keep peace as long as possible Grand pere readily agreed to the trip and encouraged him to enjoy himself.  My Father had every intention of doing just that, but he also had a plan in mind to help his cause for the inheritance.  He married what he thought was an heiress and started immediately to work on a heir.  It wasn't until after the consummation and the wedding that he found out the woman he married was not who she said she was.  Angry but refusing to admit defeat he brought his wife home triumphantly already pregnant with strict instructions to keep up the ruse of her "proper birthright".  Lucky for him, she was also the daughter of a very crafty courtesan who taught her daughter the importance of knowing how to keep a good thing. 

Father and Mother arrived home to find Oncle Pierre still living the high life and refusing to settle down with no obvious interest in the daughters of the other plantation owners that were constantly being paraded in front of him.  Rather he preferred the women down at the saloons and taverns knowing better to take them to bed than risk getting a "lady" pregnant and being forced to marry her, Grand pere had replaced Oncle Georges with Pierre as his favorite and Pierre could do no wrong.  Father did not let that bother him, he made a point of showing an interest in all aspects of the family business, being helpful, doing menial tasks, never saying no to anything he was asked to do.  During the day Father was the perfect son, behaving like the perfect gentleman farmer, smiling and making all the right gestures and moves.  At night he took out his anger and frustrations on the slaves.  Seeing his wife was pregnant and he could not risk the child he used the women roughly instead and whipped the men.  But he was smart even in his anger and kept it quiet and away from where Grand pere might hear of it.  It was whispered that I had more siblings in the slave quarters than I would ever have in the big house's nursery. 

It might have all been for nothing however, Grand pere still had no intention of supplanting Father in Oncle Pierre's place of honour.  Then events started falling like dominoes.   Unexpectedly Grand pere suffered a stroke and was left incapacitated.  Father sat at his bedside and encouraged him to update his will before it was too late.  Unable to get the whole estate left to him, my Father did get Grand pere to agree to things being left to him and his heirs if Oncle Pierre should die without heirs.  Thinking he had finally beaten his older brother he waited patiently for what he was sure would be his first son.

Mother went into labor early one Fall morning and by dinner I was presented to my Father.  I am told he held me as if I would contaminate him with my inferior sex and he handed me over to my Mother in obvious disgust as quickly as he could.  Realizing he still had time he ignored me as my Mother's mistake and was determined to correct it at the first opportunity.  With my Grand pere an invalid, my Oncle a fop who spent most of his time in the City, my Father was left to take control of the Plantation and it's inhabitants.  He was an angry man and was often found in the slave quarters taking it out on them.  Now that he no longer had to keep up pretenses in what he considered his house he treated my Mother as the bastard child he saw her to be and she was treated more or less as a second class person even by the servants who took their cue from Father.  Grand pere was the only thing keeping her in the house.

Several years went by and my Grand pere still hung on to life, stubborn to the very end.  My Father and Mother's attempts at having other children, male children, went through various stages of frustration.  There were other children, still born or dying shortly after birth.  Mother lost interest in everything other than gossip with the few friends she had who still visited.  Father seemed to be biding his time until Grand pere died.  I was mostly left to myself, being raised by servants and a nanny that raised most of the children in Father's family.  That suited me as a precocious child who loved to be anywhere her parents were not.  That was until the day of "the Fight".  Father was angry at Mother's spending and gambling.  He threatened to cut her off and she threatened the same thing, only from her bedroom.  The whole house could hear the screaming that ensued.  Even Grand pere, who they usually tried to keep out of the problems in the house, heard the outburst and demanded to be brought down to the main floor to keep the peace.

Trying to take control of the situation he sent everyone to their respected corners, reminded them of their marital duties, and stated with no uncertain terms that it was time for the little brat he just caught in his magnolia trees to be in school learning to be a lady and not a monkey.  Within the week I was sent off to a convent school forced to wear shoes, speak English as well as French and Latin.  But instead of resenting it, I found I actually loved it, and there were sisters at the school who actually enjoyed helping girls learn.  Seeing what our home life was like I would have been happy to have been happy to take vows instead of being sold in marriage.

Years of complete isolation from my family came to a sudden end with short letter from my mother calling me home for the funeral of my Grand pere.  Feeling like a complete stranger, I was even more uncomfortable when I realized they were only interested in my value for marriage.  It was odd having my father not being able to stand being near me to having him stare at me like a horse for sale.  Having made it through the funeral I was relieved to know I was being sent back to the convent for the time being.  Oncle Pierre accompanied my back to the City and left me safe with the Sisters.

But this was not to last for long.  Shortly after the funeral Mother rode into the City and made no secret of moving into Oncle Pierre's house and keeping company with him.  Father of course had made a scene and tried to get her to return home which only made things worse.  Worrying what would happen if Oncle should change the will, Father decided to take matters into his own hands again.  Because Oncle now controlled the purse strings he enjoyed taunting Father with it and lavishing gifts and money on Mother.  Unfortunately I became the key to Father's monetary independence from the Family.

It all began one Spring night shortly after the Season started and the men were all frustrated by the debutantes flirting and teasing.  Father came for me at the Convent after making arrangements with the Abbess.   He brought me to the Hotel DuPre and a fine suite of rooms.  There was a dress laid out for me and a bottle of champagne.  My heart was pounding in my chest as the door closed behind me.  There was a maid standing quietly in the corner and my Father started giving orders telling me I needed to get dressed as soon as possible.  While the maid started helping me with the dresses Father opened the champagne and handed me a glass and told me to drink it down.  Refilling it he sent me behind the screen to change.

All my questions were met with grunts and impatience on my Father's part.  All I could get out of him was I was expected to be on my best behavior, to be charming and to make a good impression.  Finally I was finished dressing and as the maid worked on my hair Father told me to wait in this room until I was called for.  Leaving the room and closing the door behind him he left me wondering what was going to happen.

Within a few minutes Father's voice was joined by others.  I could smell cigar smoke and hear the clinking of glasses.  Soon there was loud, boisterous, laughter and joking going on as well.  Finally, I could hear my Father tell his guests that it was time to get down to business.  The door opened and he indicated I should join him.  Introducing me to the room full of men I felt as if I was at the slave markets.  Suddenly it came to me what this was and what Father was doing.  It was worse than I could imagine, it was not a marriage contract he was going after, but rather a short-term financial arrangement.  Although I have been raised in a convent, I am not ignorant to what is going to happen tonight, after all, I am my mother's daughter, I have heard things since I was young about my mother and her younger years.

I was led around the room, introduced to all the gentlemen present, and trying to swallow my fear I did my best to be sweet and charming as my Father ordered.  I felt flushed, and my heart was racing.  Fluttering my fan, I breathlessly did my best to talk to everyone making them feel comfortable.  I can not believe this, I am to make THEM feel comfortable and I am terrified.  They all seemed pleased with me, and one made room for me on a chair and soon they were all walking around chatting amongst themselves and paying court to me.  All the while I am wondering if Father will make me stay here and listen as they bid on me or would I be allowed to hide in the bedroom.  I did not have to wait long for the answer.  Pulling me to my feet he draws me in front of the group and clinks his ring against his glass. 

Thinking that it would be just to the highest bidder, I did not think my Father was capable of anything worse than that, until I heard the words that came out of his mouth next.  These men here tonight were a particular group of Father's friends.  They seem to all have similar tastes and desires and an overwhelming lack of modesty.  Father gets them started with the right to "firsts".  The first to kiss me, the first oral pleasure, his and mine, then the two biggest, my virginity and my anal virginity.  While all this is happening the maid has come out of the bedroom and per my Father's instructions has started undressing me as the bids are yelled to him.  I am not a beauty by any stretch of the imagination, but that does not seem to bother any of them. 

I am left standing in front of them in my under garments trying to remember anything I can about what courtesans were supposed to do.  All I can do is stand there and hope that I do not embarrass myself.  The first bid is completed and I am hoping that means I will be removed to another room to complete the transaction.  But this does not seem to be the case,  it appears as if Father's friends are all about sharing.  Room is made for me at the settee and the gentleman who is the highest bidder on the first kiss grabs a hold of me and kisses me deeply forcing his tongue into my mouth holding my head so I can not pull away.  I do my best to play back, sucking on his tongue like a lolly pop.  He finally pulls back and I gasp for air.  He smiles at my Father and tells him the kiss was so tempting he will double his bid for the next step, for me to orally please him.  As he is talking to my Father he pushes down on my shoulders, making me kneel at his feet.  Stroking my face he unbuttons his trousers and pulls his cock from his drawers.  The other men are alternating between hooting and hollering at his bravado and at fighting for this first for themselves.

Not sure of what to do, I stare up at him, waiting for instructions.  He seems to like this, and takes great pleasure in showing me what to do with my mouth.  Soon the lessons seem to be making the other men anxious to get involved in the tutorial.  My mouth is sore, red and stretched wide to take the onslaught and once everyone is satisfied by this they move on to the next bid for my virginity.  The amount of money being thrown around is amazing as far as I can tell.  Finally an amount is agreed upon and I am led to the doors to the bedroom.  They are opened and I am deposited unceremoniously on the bed while everyone stands around making comments and offering suggestions.  Again, it does not seem as if this will be a private affair.  I do not know if I should feel ashamed or not that my Father is there watching all this, but there he is and apparently I am not going to be able to do this in private.

The highest bidder lays down beside me, pulling out a knife and slitting the lacing to my corset, cutting my chemise and ripping it off me.  I am now lying on the bed completely naked, my budding breasts barely visible and a light tuft of pubic hair is just starting to come in below.  All at once there are men on each limb pulling me open for everyone to see.  The man next to me slips a hand between my legs into my private place and starts rubbing me.  My breath is quickening again and I feel my body reacting in strange and unusual ways.  This seems to make everyone happy.  I feel a wetness spread between my thighs and then he is on top of me.  He has made me so wet that his cock slides right in stopping only for a moment at my hymen before he pushes harder and penetrates me completely.  I gasp and cry out at this invasion into my deepest place.  Hands are all over me now, pinching, prodding, teasing as the winner grunts and ruts between my legs.  My body takes over and there is an animal instinct that drives me now.  I am reacting to the man on top of me now and the other men seeming to notice the difference in me have let go of my limbs so that I may participate in this dance.  I pull him to me, wrapping my arms and legs around him nibbling and biting, stroking and caressing, and from a place I do not even know of things come out of my mouth that surprise even my father.  I believe my "partner" enjoys this as soon he is grunting and I feel his body tense over me.  He is pulled off and another takes his place.  As before this continues until everyone is sated.  But it seems that they are only more worked up than ever.

That can only mean one thing, the only thing left I have to offer.  I am turned over on my stomach and something slippery, I can only guess a form of oil, is placed between the cheeks of my ass.  The crowd is all worked up again and I can barely hear my screams over their voices as the newest winner takes my last virginity.  With that, it is a free for all and men are putting there cocks close to my mouth for attention and someone is sliding under me to take me there too.  I look over to my left and I see a group of men standing around and I realize that it is the poor maid who has been taken to handle the men who can not wait for me.

What seems like hours goes by and finally the last man falls off me and I am left in a heap on the bed.  The maid pulls herself together long enough to help clean me up as best as possible.  The covers are pulled back and I am tucked in and told to try and get some sleep.  The men have left the bedroom, closing the door behind them.  I hear them make leaving noises as I drift off.

I am awoken suddenly and told to get cleaned up and ready to leave.  The maid has returned with a tub and it is soon filled with hot steaming water and I slip slowly into it, feeling it ease my sore muscles.  Once cleaned up and dressed I am ushered quickly into the front room where there is a box sitting on the table.  I pick it up, I can't believe Father left this sitting here.  Opening it up I gasp at the beauty of the diamond necklace sitting there.  Father looks over at me and realizes what I am looking at tells me he guesses I can keep it, that I have earned it.  I am almost touched at this kindness, knowing his drive for money right now, but then I realize it would be too hard to sell it for any real money.  Knowing this I start thinking about how I can start protecting myself.

Father looks around for anything he might have missed and ushers me to the door and a carriage waiting downstairs.  I am unceremoniously dropped off at the door to the Convent.  The Sisters do not say anything, they just bring me in and try to help me return to my routine.  How is it that these women of God understand what happened and are willing to help me even though I am now a sinner?  I quickly return to my life of books and wonder if that is all Father needed me for and if he will now leave me here to take vows.  Some how I do not think I am that lucky.

Shortly after my Father's fund raising scheme my Mother reports to him that she is now carrying Oncle Pierre's child and that she will do what ever she can to ensure that the family legacy goes to the child she now carries.  Father loses his mind and his reason at this point.  Luckily for him my Oncle is known for his wild partying and it is nothing for him to hire a whore to slip something in his drink so it appears he died from overindulgence.   Now all he has to do is wait for to see what my Mother is planning to do, and she surprises him by not returning but holding court in my Oncle's townhouse.  Unfortunately for her my Oncle never got to change his will and now my Father was in control of the legacy.  Soon she was forced to impose on her friend's hospitality.  But she was never able to settle in any place for too long.  Father used his friendships, now strengthened by the night they all shared me, to keep her on the run.    Weak and desperate it was not long before she miscarried and then died from blood loss.

I was removed from the Convent and established in the townhouse.  It seemed that Father's friends were keen to keep me in a convenient location, and not wanting to loose important friendships, Father complied.  Now, allowed to do whatever he wanted he gave in to the lifestyle he resented in my Oncle all these years.    He played the roll of country gentleman and I ran the house.  I was allowed to pick my own staff, redecorate as I chose, and to entertain to make him look good.  And in return I was allowed to keep any baubles or gifts that were not monetary.  I must have done something right because soon my Father's friends were leaving more and more gifts along with the money.  Soon I had the best dress makers, jewelers, hairdressers and shoemakers vying for my business.  As I entertained my guests I also learned from them, they helped me with business and with things as they came up handling the house and the plantation.  Soon, I was befriended by my family's banker who offered to help me with the banking, my Father's lawyer, and others.  It was a few more years until I would be able to go out into public without drawing too much attention and in the meantime my Father's friends all took it upon themselves to make sure I would be able to handle myself when the time came.

And all the while Father slowly dissolved into alcoholism and debauchery.  One night he offended the wrong person in a dockside bar and as he stumbled out into the night he was stabbed and left to bleed to death on the dock.

Suddenly I was left alone, with no real family, and a fortune and no prospects for marriage or a real life.  Because of my situation the wives of all my companions would not dare to call on me, but that did not keep their husbands from calling and making sure I was well and that I was ready to really take control of the legacy left to me.

So began the life of a courtesan.  I thought of my options and with my money there was a chance I could leave, start over somewhere else, marry and have a normal life.  But the more I thought about it the more I knew I could never leave the City or my life here.  I chose to stay and have lived with that decision every morning I wake up.

The sweet tea is warm now, the book fallen to the floor and the sun has set enough for me to know it is time to get up and get ready for the evening ahead.

After a brief nap Franklin was up and ready to go again.  In fact, neither of us would get much sleep, but then again we do not usually have this kind of time to ourselves and it is nice to indulge in things that please the both of us.  Finally in the wee hours of the night and just before the staff starts waking for the day I guide him upstairs to the guest bedroom before seeing myself to bed, crawling between the clean crisp sheets I sigh in contentment and drift off to a restful slumber, the scent of jasmine drifting through my open window.

I wake to my normal morning routine, a little later on days like today, but still, there are obligations and commitments that must be kept.  Maria is bustling around the room, tsking under her breath at the ruined gown but knowing it's no good saying anything to me about it, and knowing that there will be one here soon to replace it along with a gift from Franklin for our time together.

While we are discussing the day Samuel knocks on the door and makes his way into the room.   As always he seem so out of place and uncomfortable in this female sanctuary.  He all but drops the package he is carrying on my lap in his efforts to remove himself from the fippery.  "This just came for you Miss".

"Thank you Samuel, won't you stay and have a cup of coffee with us?"  I banter at his discomfort.

"No, no thank you, there are some things downstairs that need attending to." He says as he closes the door behind him.

"Does he think he'll catch something feminine if he stays?"  Maria giggles at the closed door.

"I'm sure he's afraid to even find out."  I say puzzling over the box.

It is a jeweler's box, I've had enough experience with them to know them immediately even in the wrapper.  I open it and see that it is from my favorite store in the Quarter.  Knowing I will only find out who sent it to me by opening it I still feel a sense of dread at holding it.  Opening the box I am stunned by the necklace and earrings facing me.  They are completely stunning.  The necklace is a diamond choker with a bib front with sapphires interspersed throughout and then ending in sapphires points.  The earrings are diamonds with sapphires at the end of the bob.  It looks like rain or tears, it's beautiful. 

I finally look past the stones to the card.  I recognize it immediately.  It is from my patron the night at  the Opera House.  I'm not sure what to do with this now.  They are so beautiful and well, they will cover the bruises very nicely but to take them would be sending him the message that it was alright for him to attack me like that with no consideration for me.  It was definitely taking advantage of a situation even if he was pushed to it by someone else.  Gentlemen do not attack women like that, courtesan or not.  I have plenty of gentlemen in my company who would buy me this or anything else that strikes my fancy and know the boundaries that are not crossed in polite company.  I look up and I can tell Maria knows what is crossing my mind.

"If you were to ask me, and I know you won't, I would take them and demand more from him" she says looking at me with a gleam in her eye.  I can hear the patois sneaking out in her accent which only happens when she is agitated. I laugh at her anger for me and hold up the necklace staring in wonder at the beauty of it.  It's colours are perfect and I know just the dresses it would go best with. 

Today I am going riding with James, a banker from Boston who seems to think he is going to take over the cotton markets here because he has had some success with the markets up north.  He's pompous and arrogant, but he's a good rider and enjoys a challenging ride and does not mind taking a woman along.  Since he has been here we have invited him along to hunts down at the plantation.  But normally up here I don't get too many opportunities for a good ride.

We meet up at City Park and ride North to Lake Pontchartrain and West away from the City.  We ride easy at first, then we give the horses their heads and soon we have left the bustle of the City behind us.  The horses break their canter and we walk along for awhile just enjoying the peace of the day.  we chat companionably about hunting, business and gossip.  Despite how most men act I find they often enjoy the gossip more than we women do, although I am not naive enough to think that they do not use the information to their advantage.  That is why I carefully guard what I do or do not pass along in casual conversation.

After awhile we stop and dismount and then, having thought ahead, I unpack a small picnic for us from my saddlebags.  We enjoy the food and the company and we talk about things that have been keeping him busy the last few weeks.  He enjoys talking about his business and I lightly tease him in a way to let him know I am listening and he enjoys the attention.  Soon we are chatting comfortably about all manner of things, the hunt, the season.  Then, as if he's completely dropped his guard he takes off his jacket and lays back on the blanket completely snubbing his nose at propriety.  James is now talking about more private things of his previous life up North, of what he expected when he moved down here.  In a moment of complete honesty he confides to me that in a few days he will have concluded the one deal that will have made this whole move worthwhile.  I honestly congratulate him, I am very happy that his business has succeeded.  Knowing now that most of his bravado is an act to cover his insecurities I am even happier for him. 

Smiling at me he pulls me to him curling me into him.  Playfully I nip at his earlobe and chuckling he pulls my chin towards him and he kisses me deeply, taking my breath away.  Softly, gently he strokes and touches me in a way that is tender and erotic at the same time.  He brings me to the brink before making sweet gentle love to me under the canopy of trees above us.  Despite all the harshness of his business persona his lovemaking is anything but.  He is unselfish, making sure we both are pleasured by the experience. I am almost brought to tears at the tenderness he shows me even knowing who I am.

Ever the gentleman James knows we can not just lie here all afternoon and helps me set my clothing to rights before picking up our picnic things and helping me back onto my horse.  We ride back to the City with genuine smiles and rejuvenated from our time away from the day to day of life.  No longer in a hurry, we amble along the streets making small talk  I can't help but wonder if my new secret admirer is watching us, wondering how I dare be out after the incident earlier this week and I smile a secret smile.  James leaves me at my gate and helps me dismount, handing my horse over to my groom.  Kissing my hand he says farewell for now knowing we're to meet up again at least one or two events this week.  I walk lightly into the courtyard enjoying the afternoon sun filtering through the trees and the sound of the fountain tinkling in the background.  Walking through the kitchens, stopping to snitch a strawberry, I walk into the hallway and find a box there.  It's from James, he had it delivered to the house while we were gone.  I open it and gasp at his thoughtfulness.  Inside the box is an embroidered shawl.  The colours are brilliants and done in Spanish Crewel work.  There are pomegranates and exotic flowers ablaze across the white of the shawl.  I take it out and wrap myself in it, enjoying the feel and smell of it.  He has had this at his house for sometime before giving it to me, I can smell his soap and his scent in it.  Immediately I go to my writing desk and take out a sheet of scented paper and write a thank you note that doesn't even begin to cover how touched I am by his thoughtful gift.  Calling for Samuel I ask him to have it delivered as soon as possible.  With that I go to clean up and decide what to do about my plans for tonight and that necklace.

The next morning I awake stiff and sore hardly able to move.  Maria came in with a poultice to reduce the swelling and discoloration from the bruising.  I swim in the comfort of the soft pillows and bedding shedding the fear and self-loathing from the night before.  A deep breath and I am ready for coffee and hot beignets. Once I've eaten and the effects of the coffee have woken me up I take stock and wait for Maria so we can plan for the day.

The windows are open and the breeze coming in is heavenly promising another beautiful day.  I have appointments scheduled for the week and am loathe to cancel any of them.  It's not so much the loss of income, I've learned my lessons early and have saved for a rainy day or week, but the loss of status that it would mean by my absence from the social whirl.  As much as I protect my independence and privacy I still would miss being in the center of things here in the city.

Maria returns and sits with me and we discuss our plans over another pot of coffee.  She assesses my wounds and has already taken stock of my wardrobe laying out possibilities for today.  We weigh each choice for its ability to hide the bruises without bringing too much attention to the fact I'm covering something up.  I've already decided that I refuse to let this stop me from continuing life as normal as possible.    Grateful for the cool spring weather I will be able to use my shawl and a partlet to my advantage without looking out of place for covering too much up.

Once the outfits for each appointment have been selected Maria and I turn our attention to the new dress that was delivered.  Luckily the dressmaker will be visiting this afternoon for a fitting so the timing is perfect.

Maria helps me to dress for calling hours.  Today is my morning at home.  The conservatory is prepared and the spring flowers are blooming nicely.  I've had the doors to the courtyard opened so my shawl will not seem out of place.   Everything prepared, I go down to await my visitors.  My mornings are usually well attended, I try to run an interesting salon, keeping things provocative in many different ways so as to not let anyone get bored.

Today's guest is Charles D a musician from London who just came in from New York.  He is to play in the concert hall this week and I am very lucky to be the first to entertain him.  He arrives first, a gentleman to the core and we have a very lovely conversation about his trip here while we wait for the others to arrive.  As structured as my entertainment is my salons are very casual and people come and go as it pleases them.  I am showing him my courtyard gardens when he reaches to push a branch out of my way and as I duck my shawl falls from my shoulder and exposes a few shadows.  He glances and looks politely away gently reseting my shawl as we continue with our conversation.

More guests are arriving so any thought he had about pursuing the cause of the bruises is set aside as we join the others.  Yet every once in awhile I notice a question in his eyes when he thinks I'm not watching.   I quickly move to another conversation with my close friend Jasmine who has just arrived from her family plantation.  Her husband is a sweet man who introduced us shortly after bringing her home from the West Indies.  Jasmine was the one who suggested the musician we are hosting today.  She enjoys music more than anyone I know and the joy in her eyes today is such a pleasure.

The morning winds down and I am soon escorting the last of my guests to the door.  Not that I won't be seeing most of them again soon as Jasmine is hosting luncheon.  I look around quickly taking stock smiling confidently at how  my staff has once again done their best for me.  As I move to the kitchens to let them know that I realize that not all my guests have left.  Charles, my musician steps out of the sitting room and smiles mischeviously at me.  I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were still here, forgive my manners." I smile back.

Charles walks to me pulling the shawl off my shoulders and it falls to the floor.  "Now, I think it's about time you explained these to me" he breathes in my ear.

"Thank you for your obvious concern, however, they are but trivial things, nothing that you should worry about."

"Who said I was concerned? Quite to the contrary, they are rather provocative and with what I've heard about your obvious charms I am intensely aroused."

Gasping at his audacity in my own home I collect myself, smile and call to my majordomo.  While I am waiting for him I turn back to Charles, turn on my charm as I collect him by his elbow and guide him towards the door.

"While I'm sure you would be privileged to enjoy my company, it was not part of the invitation to my salon.  Should you like to make other arrangements I'm sure that should my calendar offer that opportunity I'm sure that we could enjoy some time together should you still be in the city."

With that, Samuel, my majordomo appears as if on cue to open the door and usher a bewildered Charles back onto the street and the carriage that is waiting for him.  Sighing, rolling my eyes, Samuel and I share a laugh as we retreat to the kitchens so that I can express my gratitude for the great job done today.  Then it was a quick change in order to be on time for Jasmine's lunch.

I arrive in the foyer just in time to meet my escort.  He smiles with appreciation and I know that again Maria has outdone herself in order to get me ready. 

Returning in time for the dressmaker's appointment Maria and I discuss with her the new dresses I will need for this season as well as a duplicate of the gift dress only in another colour.  Going through the pattern books we make some simple changes that will best suit me and set a schedule for the events I have planned so far. 

Then it's time for another quick change, dinner, and my next step of my plan.  The fact that I'm not letting the stranger keep me from living my life makes me feel rebellious.  I like the empowering feeling of snubbing my nose at this poor attempt at control.  I'm having dinner with friends at the Hotel St Marie and then dancing.  One of our party also happens to be my banker.  I've planned on doing some business with dinner.

Pulling Jacques aside after the first course I bring up the subject of a possible draft sent to my account today.  He immediately knows what I'm talking about as he has been looking after my business affairs since my father died.  Besides being completely discrete he is wonderful at looking out for my best interests.  I explain what I would like to do and he smiles in agreement.  That being settled we turn our attention back to our party and the conversations buzzing around the table.

I feel more alive than I have in years.  I smile my first genuine smile in I can't remember how long.  Maybe instead of acting like a rebellious adolescent  I should be thanking my anonymous benefactor. And yet, I can't help but think he prefers this side of me and this is what he expects me to do.  And yet I would be betraying myself if I cowered in a corner and cried at the rough treatment I've received.  If I haven't curled in a ball and died after everything else that has happened to me this isn't going to do it.

My partner tonight is looking at me with a wonderfully devilish look in his eyes.  He comes over and steals me away from Jacques and we take a stroll around the room chatting with acquaintances as we flirt with each other. 

"I haven't had a moment alone with you all day" he complains.

"I know, but don't worry, you always have my undivided attention."  I smile back at our little joke.

"How is Margarete feeling these days?"  I ask, concern taking the place of the humor.

"Well enough now, this is the best time of year for her between the colder weather and the summer heat, as always.  She won't be coming into town this year, I don't want to risk her or the baby."

"Oh Franklin, that is wonderful!  Isn't it?  Congratulations!   That is the best news, have you been waiting all this time to tell me, how awful of you to keep that a secret from me."

"We just wanted to be sure it would hold this time before we told you and you're the only one to know for now, promise?"

"Definitely, I like to keep your secrets," I say with a naughty smile.

"Another thing I like about you."  He replies playfully.

"This calls for a private celebration."  I offer.

"I thought you would never ask."

He makes our excuses to our friends and ushers me to his carriage and back to my house.  We have the rest of the evening to ourselves and plan to make the most of it.  My staff have all retired for the evening knowing that I prefer to take care of things myself with certain friends.  I light a few lamps in my private sitting room, dimmed for a more intimate atmosphere.  I have taken great care in choosing  the furnishings for this room.  Most people, should they ever be invited to this intersanctum, would be shocked at the decadence I've surrounded myself with here.

The overall feel is having stepped into a sheik's harem.  The silk hangings create a few small alcoves in which couples can isolate themselves and there are couches and pillows to provide the greatest comforts.  Although it is a large room, it seems enveloping and welcoming, almost intoxicating.

I assist Franklin in removing his jacket and I settle him on a large daybed and kneel at his feet to remove his shoes.  Here things are much more familiar, here social mores are not allowed.  Here it is about pleasure and comfort.

Franklin sighs and smiles down at me as I serve him.

"I owe you so much, so does Margarete, she loves you you know."

"I love you both, I am glad I can be of service to her, she was one of the only ones to not cut me after what happened after father's death.  Your friendship has kept doors open to me that normally would have slammed in my face."

"Well, it's lucky for you that you are so likable"  he laughs at me  "I'm glad that we could help you, your father would have wanted us to keep an eye on you."

Laughing, I continue to help him shed the stiff outer layers of his suit.  Then I pour him a drink and kneel at his feet again as I offer it to him.  He leans back letting himself succumb to the comfort of the daybed.   I move myself until I am positioned in front of him and seductively smile up at him as I pull his legs apart and install myself firmly between them.  Running my hands up and down his thighs I quickly nip at one thigh just at the junction with his hip.  He gasps at the attack and sets the drink down before he spills it.   Both hands free now they make short work of my coiffure tangling themselves in my curls as my hands work the buttons of his pants and slowly shimmy him out of them.

Working my way through his drawers I take the pile and fold them to avoid wrinkles and then take his hands to help him up and out of the rest of his clothes.  As I make a neat pile of his things he quickly pulls me toward his naked body, his cock rock hard between us.  Kissing me fiercely, he expertly finds my laces and gently remove my gown and then the corset leaving me in my silk chemise.  Our hands are exploring each other's bodies.  He takes great care as he softly follows the curves of my breasts, pulling the silk taut over the nipples and then sucking one into his mouth, the heat of it stirring my deepest places and I can feel the dampness spread between my legs.

Gasping and trying to regain control of the situation I gently push him back on the daybed and set myself between his legs again.  Nibbling and teasing him I slowly work my way up his legs to his cock taking it in my hands I tease it with the tip of my tongue.  Using just the tip I work my way up and down the shaft before paying special attention to the tip and the hole there.  Hearing his gasps I smile into his groin knowing the effect I was having on him and what it would make him do to pay me back.

It didn't take long to find the breaking point.  Suddenly he was reaching forward and grabbing me up and pulling me to him.  Franklin is a soft, caring, devoted husband to Margarete, but there is none of that in evidence the way he is treating me now.  His hands grasp my shoulders firmly and then roughly grab for my breasts and especially the nipples.  Then they have found the edges of my shift and tears it open and then viciously bites my breast leaving a love bite, marking me as his tonight. Even in his frenzy to possess me he sees the marks left by Jonathan last night.  At first he looks as if he wants to comfort me and coddle me.  But it quickly passes and he bites me again before forcing me to my knees and grabbing my head forcing my mouth open and violently fucking my face with his cock.  I'm close to choking, but we've played this game before and he knows the limits and just how far he can go before he crosses any boundaries.  I am holding on to his thighs for dear life as he continues to abuse my mouth.  I barely have time to breathe before he's thrusting himself down my throat again. 

As I'm gasping for air around his shaft he grabs a handful of hair and forces me up then bending me over the arm of the daybed, slapping my legs apart.  With one hand using my hair like reins and the other on my shoulder he forces himself between my legs thrusting hard I feel his cock at the bud of my asshole and with just my spit on his cock in the way of lubrication he enters me with a grunt burying himself to his balls.  I whimper into the pillows and he spanks me.  This makes me cry out.  Turning him on, he does it again knowing what my reaction will be besides crying out.  I am now thrusting back to meet his strokes into me.  Besides the sound of his spanking my ass cheeks there is the noise of our bodies slapping together.  We are feeding each other's erotic needs pushing each other to the brink and back again.  My naked body is being rubbed up against the rough pile of the velvet on the daybed, I can feel my pussy dripping because of it.  My nipples are rock hard and are being chaffed and know that before Franklin is done they will be sore and cracked and painful in the most pleasant way.  Meanwhile I am thrusting back on his cock shoving him deeper and deeper into my ass.  I know how this makes him feel, how my whimpers actually make his cock harder and thicker, spreading me wider and driving deeper into me. 

Knowing what Franklin needs I do what I know will unleash what he's been holding in for so long.

"Please, fuck me harder."

A groan escapes from his mouth, his hands go for my hips grabbing them tight and thrusting harder into me.

"Hurt me, I need to be punished"

It is his turn to cry out as he stops thrusting, just holding me to him, his cock buried as deep as it can be in me.

"Why do you deserve my punishment?"

"Because I was a cock tease licking your cock keeping it out of my mouth just to drive you crazy."

"oh, yes, you are a cock tease and a whore, maybe I shouldn't do anything, maybe that's the punishment you deserve."

I moan and rock on his cock, grinding it in and out of my ass trying to get him deeper into me.

But his hands on my hips control the penetration stopping me from getting what I need and yet I feel his cock getting harder and thicker, the head is stuck right in the opening of the bud making me feel as if I am being ripped open.  My cum is now dripping down my leg.

We are both playing a waiting game to see who will give in first.  Yet I am the winner either way, I am over the edge with the waves of pleasure washing over me, but I also know how we will both explode if I can get him to fuck me again.  I pull an ace out of my sleeve so to speak and, even in this position, I take control.

"I know its not me you're fucking now, even now you're deep inside her...giving to her what is rightly mine.  Each thrust of your rock hard cock is meant for her isn't it?  You're fucking my ass but its her name on your lips isn't it?  I'm just a hole for for your needs aren't I? 

There is a low groan I can feel through the point of our contact then he gives into the animal in him, grabbing my shoulders for greater penetration assaults me, fucking me harder and harder with each thrust.  I will have carpet burns to go with my bruises tomorrow, but I don't care, in fact I welcome it knowing it is exactly what he needs.

"Goddamn you for teasing me, making me do this to you.  If you would only finish what you start in me.  You fucking tease.  How dare you make me hate myself for giving you what you deserve."

Turning into actions what he cannot put into words he snaps and fucks me harder and harder, and I show my appreciation by milking his cock with my ass, knowing this is for his release and he will take care of me later, I do what I can to help his orgasm rock him to his soul.  He explodes into me so hard I feel it leaking out around his cock and down my thighs, mingling with my cum.  With a grunt and a gasp he grabs hold of me like a drowning man grabbing for a piece of driftwood.  I shift a bit until we roll off the arm of the daybed and lie in a heap on the bed itself. 

Franklin rouses himself long enough to kiss me gently, "Thank you, without this I would have gone crazy long ago and possibly hurt Margarete."

"I know your needs and it is my pleasure, Franklin, really...now sleep, there is time..."

Heavy stock paper, watermark from the best printer in the city.  A date and time.  Not even an RSVP the arrogance of knowing I would say yes.  I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of spring here in the Quarter, magnolia, a hint of wisteria, the River.  Wondering what brought me to this point and would I have changed anything along the way if I could have.  I have to be truthful and answer "no".

The next day I arrive home just in time to see a liveried man leave.  Sitting on the hallway table is a box, no note, just a magnolia....my favorite.  As if I know someone's watching I smell the flower and tuck it behind my ear.  I don't even look in the box, instead I send it up with Maria and continue to the sitting room, picking up the other letters off the table on my way by.  Invitations, my calendar will be full...I will have to sit down with Maria and plan out my wardrobe needs for this season. 

Placing the invitations aside I move toward the dining room, tonight I can dine alone before the evening events.  There is a new opera tonight and everyone will be there, but for now it's quiet and I enjoy the peace.  After a light meal I resign myself to the evening and go upstairs to dress.  Maria being the wonderful companion and confidant that she is has everything laid out in anticipation of the evening's requirements.  The dress is simple but elegant, very much my style, which often gets more attention than the bright flowers that are my southern belle sisters.  
 
At the appointed time my host's carriage arrives to bring me to the opera house.  As much as I enjoy being home I do love the quarter at night with the lamps lit.  Arriving at the proper time the door opens and I am handed out to my patron.  We are instantly swallowed by the crush of humanity filing in to their seats.  It is not so much the performance everyone is here to see but to be seen with the right people, wearing the right fashions talking about the right gossip.  Knowing me so well, he instantly guides me to his box and settles me.  With his prestige in business and in the community he is courted in his box rather than being one who has to go visiting.  I smile charmingly at the visitors stopping by on their way to their seats and join in the conversation where appropriate.  My patron expects no less and for the years I've been accompanying him to the theater we are a well oiled machine. 

Minutes later the curtain rises and the first act begins.  Because it is a new production some of the talking subsides in the audience to see if it's worth the wait.  We turn our attention to the stage and sit in comfortable silence.  Every now and then I throw a flirtation at my patron with my fan because I know how he enjoys the subtle attention.  He smiles at me indulgently and lightly strokes my bare arm.  The casual touch sends shivers down my spine and I lean into the contact.

And thats when the normal evening ends.  As soon as the curtain comes down at the intermission a steward comes into the box with a nosegay of magnolias and tea roses and present them to me.  There is no note and no message from the steward.  I look questioningly at my patron and he seems as surprised as I am.  But he is not pleased.  Although I will be going home alone tonight he takes offense to someone doing this during his time with me.  Noting his displeasure I offer to return the flowers, but this only makes him angrier and the steward takes this opportunity to add fuel to the fire by stating although he is not at liberty to give the name of the gentleman who sent the flowers he was able to say he would not allow them to be returned regardless the reason for refusal.

We attempt to salvage the evening and return our attention to the stage.  However, the mood is ruined and instead of enjoying the evening I can tell my patron is furiously searching the hall to see who might be looking for a reaction to the flowers.  I do my best to show no emotion and flutter my fan in agitation.  Suddenly without warning my patron grabs my arm forcefully and pulls me from my chair and into the hall.  Signaling for a steward he instructs him to call his carriage as he continues to drag me down the stairs and out into the street.

I am immediately embarrassed.  And not knowing what is going on makes my stomach go cold with fear.  The carriage arrives before there is any more of a scene here on the street and I am tossed unceremoniously into the dark interior of the carriage.  Yelling up to his driver to just drive he climbs in behind me slamming the door. 

My breathing becomes quick and my corset is starting to feel claustrophobic I back into the corner and hope to ride out this unfamiliar rage.  But I seem to be the focus of the attack and he immediately grabs for me again pulling me towards him crushing me in his tight grip.  His mouth is on me immediately and he takes my breath away.  I feel my skin bruising under his hands and yet I can't protest just the opposite my body is responding to this onslaught.  I feel his kisses in the depth of my soul and I feel weak and giddy thankful that I am not standing because I don't trust my legs to hold me.  While I am contemplating my body's betrayal, his hands release my sore arms and he quickly tears my bodice and pulls my breasts free of my corset.  With one hand he assaults one nipple while pulling the other to his mouth to be suckled hard enough to make me gasp.  Is it from pleasure or pain? Or both?  I'm not sure but I also know I'm in no position to be thinking anything.  With that nipple firmly in his mouth he uses the free hand to pull my skirts out of his way and then takes both hands to pull my hips down to make his assault easier for him.  Biting me firmly at the base of my neck and shoulder he uses his grip on my hips to drive his rock hard cock into my now aching pussy.  Driving deep into me he attacks my body thrust after thrust punishing me because he could not punish the man that offended him.

Oblivious to my cries of pain he continues the onslaught on my body, everywhere he puts his hands I feel a bruise forming.  Because I was not ready for him he is now tearing my fragile flesh.  I cry out in pain and suddenly he seems aware of me for the first time since this started, but only long enough for him to focus on his anger and using both hands chokes the cries from my mouth.  Clutching for his hands I cry out one last time as I start to lose consciousness feeling my body slip away from me as he continues to drive his cock deep into me.

I come to when the carriage comes to a halt in front of my house.  My patron is sitting in the darkness of the other corner as far away from me as he can get and still be in the carriage.  Just before the door opens he throws his cloak at me as if he is afraid to touch me.   Still confused and shaken I grab for it and try to cover my embarrassment.  His footman walks me to the door and the care of my majordomo.  Trying to avoid his concerned glances I walk as quickly as I can for the stairs and the sanctuary of my room.  Maria is waiting, ever patiently for me and quickly sets to helping me disrobe and calling for a bath to be filled for me.

Staring at my naked body in the mirror I am shocked at the bruises forming all over.  Finally the shock sets in and I start trembling.  Maria quickly moves me to the tub and gently sets me into it.  Just as I am collecting myself there is a knock on the door and the majordomo hands Maria a note.

Before I even get it in my hands I recognize the paper.  Confused I open it.  In a beautiful script I read:

"I hope my gift tonight made for an interesting ride home.  Your patron tonight is not known for for his recklessness but I thought that a rival for your attentions might stir his blood up enough for you.  I hope that your sudden departure from the performance tonight is an indication of his feelings on the situation.

"You appeared somewhat disheveled upon your arrival home so I am assuming he was up to the task.  And knowing him from his younger years and the way his tastes ran I'm sure you will be reading this in your tub soaking the bruises he tattooed you with.  No thanks are needed, just seeing you limp is enough for now.  And just to show you how thoughtful I am, taking into consideration the fact you will probably not be entertaining anymore this week or the next I have taken the liberty of sending a draft to your bank for you to draw off of while you recuperate.

"I expect you well and in good spirits in time for our rendezvous at the date and time previously mentioned.

"Until then, my regards"

There is no signature, no indication of who it might be.  And yet it is not that fact that disturbs me tonight, it is rather how right he was in antagonizing my patron and how much my body, no matter how sore and marked I might be, enjoyed the treatment tonight and how I was secretly thanking my unknown sponsor for giving me such a memorable night.  Then awareness dawns on me and I call for Maria to bring the box that was delivered this afternoon.  Still sealed she brings it over and I have her open it, inside is a beautifully tailored dress, in a less subdued colour from my usual palette, but from the wrapping I can tell it is from my usual seamstress.  As Maria pulls it out a note falls free.  Picking it up I know immediately my suspicions were right.

"A replacement for the dress damaged tonight, in a colour I find more suitable for your spirit."

A jagged sigh escapes my lips as the note falls to the floor.  Again the question from earlier crosses my mind...would I have done anything differently, or perhaps chosen another path?  Knowing the answer to that and to the invitation I received are complete opposites I give myself over to exhaustion and fall painfully into bed and into unconsciousness.