Post by Jisella sel-Hadim on Feb 10, 2010 22:20:52 GMT -6
There was a smile. After a few moment, he nodded. Then he grinned, "Good." There was a soft laugh to himself, as he thought of asking if she enjoyed her meal. But that would serve no purpose but to trip her up in his speech. "Pray, if you ever feel that you are mistreated.... tell me." This was not purely out of altruism. Servants and slaves that were happy, were less likely to steal from their masters - or slit their throats as their masters slept. "When you and I speak, I wish you to speak as truly as you can. Do not say what you think I wish to hear." He was quiet again. "I know that this life is new and harsh for you.... the intelligence that you present yourself with...your bearing... shows you were not born to this role. So I shall ask this. What do you desire?"
“I want to go home.." simple elegant.. if he wanted her desire then she offered it to him with the ease of the truth from her lips.. as he surmised she was not used to being in a position of subservience and without thinking she offered him a query back " Why did you buy me ?"
There was a sigh, a sad smile. He knew that she would desire that.... or to be free. One he could accommodate, the other? He would likely not. "Perhaps," he offered, "we may go at some point to Jerusalem...." It was said with a tone that neither dashed hopes... or allowed them to grow. At her own question, he could not help but to lean back in his chair. He smiled. "I have no grand answers to give you....." The smile twitched wider a bit, "Surely, by now, you have learned my habits..... What free time I have, I spend drinking....gambling.... womanizing....dueling.... I make no effort to hide that." The last was the reason he had not touched her. There were other willing women in Skye. "In all of my life, I have been the family black sheep. Mostly, because I had three brothers....." In Europe, being the fourth brother often meant military enlistment. "I acquired a taste for that which society frowns upon. When I went to the auction, I went with the intent that I would leave owning someone.....Out of all that I saw? To my own taste, you were the most beautiful of all present. And the way you carry yourself spoke of being like myself." This was true. He hesitated, "And, of course, because I could."
His answer did not suit her at all.. it was plain on her face.but she admired his honestly.. the words would not come to her in French.. and tumbled out almost ramshackle and incomprehensible.. " You do this because you Could.. do you do anything you want without though of what anyone wants.. You want to own someone.. how would you like to be owned?" she stuttered and stammered appalled by his words.. " I am nothing like you.. you curr" she stood abruptly rattling the dishes on the table.. a string of Arabic curses falling from her tongue " In my Land I would have you whipped.. for your insolence" her haughty manner would perhaps suprises him as she pulled herself up to her fullest height that was barely 5 foot three if that.. and stared him down... he had bought a hellcat it seemed.
He expected honesty of her, why not repay it in kind? The Frenchman was quiet, letting her have her say. There was a cant of his head, as he listened to her. Trying to decipher what Moorish words found their ways in to her French -- or was it the other way around? Either way, he had trouble following her. He looked up at her, "You asked why I sought to own you, and I have told you......" He stood, slowly and gracefully. He had but a few inches on her, making them near even. "Did you think my answer would some how be different from what I told you?" He met her eyes. His own asked how naive she was. "And before you judge me to harshly, answer me this. Is being my servant, any different from being in one of your countrymen's harems?"
Her teeth clenched and she stood her ground as he rose... she would not back down, even if he beat her and it shown in her eyes.. they glittered darkly as he spoke... her cheeks flamed as he gazed upon her with a knowing.. that spoke of her naivety.. perhaps she was sheltered.. and naive.. and all this was vibrato for bravery's sake... for a moment it looked as if she would balk and run..her bottom lip trembled softly before she answered him... " I have no answer for my countrymen only to say it is very
Different for a Daughter of a King to be placed as a item to be owned " the moment the words had left her lips.. she regretted them.. not one of the men who had taken her had known of her position in life.. they thought her a wealthy merchants daughter or such.. never royalty, she almost cringed at the slip of her tongue and wished the words back, as she quickly tried to cover her slip by pushing past him toward the doorway of the dinning hall.
She was allowed the chance to attempt pushing by him, only because her words had stunned him. The daughter of a king? She would have been able to slip by him -- had she not laid a hand upon his form. He caught it, using it to pull her to beside of him. There was a twist of her arm (enough to cause discomfort, naught else). He regained himself, "....Perhaps that a fate... to be a harem-woman to a pasha. But that is not your fate, now....." He brought her back to stand in front of her. "Here," he said, meeting her gaze, "Here you are a well-treated servant....." But his own eyes held questions. Why was she in a position to be in servitude, why had she not attempted to ransom herself back to her own? Merchant woman or not, she had the bearing of wealth.
When he grasp her she stilled panic sealing the fate as he pulled her back and planted her before him, " I am no ones servant.. you bought a body, but not a soul... " her voice had taken on a arrogance that almost pitied him... her eyes locking with his for a long moment.. a battle of wills... " I do not consider being held against my will as well treated.. " now her chin tilted up even more to meet his gaze... her breath was erratic.. and the closeness of him cloying... why would he just not release her... back to her duties of laundry and kitchen drudgery.. why must she serve him personally..
What would she do, when she saw him raise a hand? Then he delivered a stinging, open-handed slap to her face. One that would leave her cheek red, but lack the bruise. This had been the first time that she had been struck or maltreated in his service.... no matter what she considered herself. "Wether I purchased a body or a soul, you now my servant...." He used his hold on her arm, to bring her closer. "If being held against your will, is the worse I do....." He said not else. She should count herself lucky. He was a good master. He did not casually abuse her or mistreat her -- which had made the slap shocking. He leaned in close. "You are no longer what you were. You are now my servant, to do as I will....." And with that, his hand came up again. But he did not slap her this time, he grabbed her chin with his hand. And pulled her into a rough kiss.
She gasp.. but did not cry out at the slap.. her eyes widened and brimmed with tears that she refused to let fall... she trembled against her will as she was pulled against him.. and he ground out his ownership of her in words before her lips... she did cry out... when his lips claimed hers.. a whimper against his own her body going rigid in his grasp.. "non.... non" it was a small suplicative voice that begged him to stop..his roughness...
What would she do, when it seemed her words were answer? He released his hold of her arm, and draw away. Not so far that she could flee.... but so that there was some small space before him. Did she flinch, when his hand came to her cheek again? It was not a slap. It was a soft, gentle caress. There was a sigh, before he said, ".... pray.... forgive me...." What would she do, when the hand that held his cheek gently moved to guide her close once more? Did she go to his embrace, or flinch away?
If she came to him, he would try to atone for his earlier roughness. His lips would again meet her own. But in a gentle brush of lips.
Doe eyes closed, lashes fanning over her cheeks like veils... as he stoked her cheek... her heart begin to thud beneath her breast and her breath seemed shallow and fluttery like that of a caged wild bird beating against it's cages bars... He guided her against him once more and his words rang out in her ears... you will do as I Will , she had been beaten before.. by these infidels that had taken her, and would likely suffer the fate again... but the truth of her fate settled about her like a grim mantle...this was her life now... she belonged to him... now she did not fight him but merely stood submissive for the moment as his lips brushed across hers... the only tell that she was unwilling.. a slight flinch of her hands as she fought to keep them from clawing his eyes out.
He stood there, looking down upon her. Breathing softly. Breathing in the scents of the dining hall. Was being in his employee any different than being in a Ottoman's harem? The meal that had been prepared was, now, largely forgotten. The Frenchman canted his head, studying her form. Then he said, gently, "Come with me....." And he would guide her back to his room. How well and truly had her fate settled on her? One wondered if she might fathom what his will -- his desire -- was. There would be no doubt when they got to his room. Once she had entered, he would close and lock the door behind her. Then he said, "Disrobe....and then go to the bed...." as he began to disrobe himself.
She stood in the middle of the room, and flinched as the door lock clicked it's tumbler into place sealing her fate.. her face paled as he begin to undress and she turned away... bumping into the bed as she tried to put distance between them " I'm sorry I did not behave... well.. I will do better..." her broken language was stilted by panic even worse than before... her fingers plucking at the alien skirt as if it were a shield
There was a few moments hesitation, as he watched her. "I apologize for lashing out of you, when I should not......." Odd, for a master to say that to a servant. He would go to her, then, standing before her naked. What would she do, when he reached down to gently take her hands in to his? He pressed them together, to stop their nervous indicting. Then he would press his hands to her chest. Her hands thus captured, he would lean down. To her, he murmured, "Ssssh...." Did he lean closer? "Sssh...." There was another caress of his lips against her own. Soft and gentle, allowing it to linger. Did she enjoy his kiss? Or seek to break it? What of when he took his hands from her own? "Here," he said. He would go to a table, to fetch a small glass of wine for her. There was a soft smile, "It will help your nerves...."
"I cannot" she refused the wine... "it is unclean" she was not being disobedient, but in her belief wine that was not kosher was not to be born on her lips... when he had caressed her and apologized she had thought for a moment that he would release her.. but as she felt his arousal thru the skirt she knew it would not be her fate this night.. she swallowed harshly and took a deep breath waiting for his next move.
There was a pause, as he canted his head. Then he nodded quietly, "Very well...." She could feel his own arousal. But there was a question, of course. What of her own? Was she truly immune to his charms? He had not want to take from a woman had no desire, when there were so many who could willing give it. His next move would be to sigh, before he moved to sit on the bed. Where did his desire begin...and the boundary to what he would not do begin? She was his. This was his will. But he was not a monster. At last, he patted the bed beside of him. "Come here, Jisella......"
She watched as he moved away.. noting the struggle within him as he seemed to fight with himself over the doings of the night... when he called her to him she moved slowly to stand before him then knelt before him... " Please...." she could not find the words in his language had never heard one beg for salvation.... " I will not please you... I do not know men " her words were broken... and perhaps he did not believe her... after all she had been a slave to crusaders... how could she be and innocent...
"please... Merci…”
He reached out, to lightly touch a hand to her forehead. Much like a priest giving benediction. He smiled softly. Then he moved his hand to caress her cheek, saying, "You do not know if you shall please me ore not......" Then he said, "And it would be easy to teach you the ways of men...." He sighed, thinking. What would be gained from not taking her this night? It would always be there, something between them. Something lurking. Always the threat of it. Of him, at last, taking her. He sighed
and looked into her eyes. To see if she knew it too. Then he said, "If we do not do it this night..... it shall be some other night....."
It is one thing to know you might be doomed.. another to see the gallows with a clear line of sight... as he spoke they came into view as clearly as if she were stepping upon them.. now she had the choice of stepping up and accepting her fate as a Daughter of the King.. or to cower like a slave...crying and falling to her knees... they play across her face was telling as her thoughts focused and then solidified... slowly she stood... and backed a step away from him... trembling fingers begin to unhinge
the row of buttons at her throat downward over the bodice of the western dress she wore... an escaped tendril of long dark hair hiding the shame on her cheeks as she worked.. frustrated by the lack of cooperation the buttons gave her flightily fingers.. how was it that when she convinced her self to submit ... her clothing would not.. dam these western dresses.
The bed creaked Her master had risen. He walked toward her, a soft smile on his face. Tinged with.... sadness? He took a breath, forming a thought in his mind. He prayed to any power that heard, that the words he was to speak would not become a lie. He would put his hand to her cheek again, gently guiding her head so that their eyes met. "I know that you submit in what you do....but know, as well, that I think it very brave." That was true. "After this night, know you shall
be my servant...and, something more. Know that you shall be *my* lover, always." Meaning that he would not ask her to submit sexually to others. "I hope that.... some day.... we may even feel that." Then his hands would move to her buttons, to help her undo them.
She heard his words though a dim fog, and they settled within the recesses of her mind... soon she would find herself going over them in days to come.. not fully understanding the meaning in them but for now.. she was consumed with maintaining what dignity she had left.. of holding onto some form of honor.. shivering slightly as his hands moved over her buttons pushing the dress downward.. she felt invaded.. but unlike the examinations she had suffered rough and prodding by the men who had taken her captive... there was no painful slaps or pinching.. no rude poking... his hands by comparison were warm and gentle.. as the chemise fell to the ground leaving her in the western lace pantaloons.. with their drawstring waist..knee high stockings and pointy toed shoes... her breast now bare to him she lifted her arms shielding herself.. out of instinct.. and closed her eyes tightly... " I have no name to call you" that was the only thing she could focus on... what was his name...
There was a grimace. Damn. He should have told her sooner. He took a breath, before saying, "My name is Benoit deChagny......." Benoit, ironically, meant 'blessed'. Was a true invasion? Perhaps. But he wished her to, at least, have some joy from this night. When she crossed her arms over herself - to shield her breast - he was content to let her have that. What would she do, when the tie at her waist was undone? "You can call me Benoit....." He murmured.
“I want to go home.." simple elegant.. if he wanted her desire then she offered it to him with the ease of the truth from her lips.. as he surmised she was not used to being in a position of subservience and without thinking she offered him a query back " Why did you buy me ?"
There was a sigh, a sad smile. He knew that she would desire that.... or to be free. One he could accommodate, the other? He would likely not. "Perhaps," he offered, "we may go at some point to Jerusalem...." It was said with a tone that neither dashed hopes... or allowed them to grow. At her own question, he could not help but to lean back in his chair. He smiled. "I have no grand answers to give you....." The smile twitched wider a bit, "Surely, by now, you have learned my habits..... What free time I have, I spend drinking....gambling.... womanizing....dueling.... I make no effort to hide that." The last was the reason he had not touched her. There were other willing women in Skye. "In all of my life, I have been the family black sheep. Mostly, because I had three brothers....." In Europe, being the fourth brother often meant military enlistment. "I acquired a taste for that which society frowns upon. When I went to the auction, I went with the intent that I would leave owning someone.....Out of all that I saw? To my own taste, you were the most beautiful of all present. And the way you carry yourself spoke of being like myself." This was true. He hesitated, "And, of course, because I could."
His answer did not suit her at all.. it was plain on her face.but she admired his honestly.. the words would not come to her in French.. and tumbled out almost ramshackle and incomprehensible.. " You do this because you Could.. do you do anything you want without though of what anyone wants.. You want to own someone.. how would you like to be owned?" she stuttered and stammered appalled by his words.. " I am nothing like you.. you curr" she stood abruptly rattling the dishes on the table.. a string of Arabic curses falling from her tongue " In my Land I would have you whipped.. for your insolence" her haughty manner would perhaps suprises him as she pulled herself up to her fullest height that was barely 5 foot three if that.. and stared him down... he had bought a hellcat it seemed.
He expected honesty of her, why not repay it in kind? The Frenchman was quiet, letting her have her say. There was a cant of his head, as he listened to her. Trying to decipher what Moorish words found their ways in to her French -- or was it the other way around? Either way, he had trouble following her. He looked up at her, "You asked why I sought to own you, and I have told you......" He stood, slowly and gracefully. He had but a few inches on her, making them near even. "Did you think my answer would some how be different from what I told you?" He met her eyes. His own asked how naive she was. "And before you judge me to harshly, answer me this. Is being my servant, any different from being in one of your countrymen's harems?"
Her teeth clenched and she stood her ground as he rose... she would not back down, even if he beat her and it shown in her eyes.. they glittered darkly as he spoke... her cheeks flamed as he gazed upon her with a knowing.. that spoke of her naivety.. perhaps she was sheltered.. and naive.. and all this was vibrato for bravery's sake... for a moment it looked as if she would balk and run..her bottom lip trembled softly before she answered him... " I have no answer for my countrymen only to say it is very
Different for a Daughter of a King to be placed as a item to be owned " the moment the words had left her lips.. she regretted them.. not one of the men who had taken her had known of her position in life.. they thought her a wealthy merchants daughter or such.. never royalty, she almost cringed at the slip of her tongue and wished the words back, as she quickly tried to cover her slip by pushing past him toward the doorway of the dinning hall.
She was allowed the chance to attempt pushing by him, only because her words had stunned him. The daughter of a king? She would have been able to slip by him -- had she not laid a hand upon his form. He caught it, using it to pull her to beside of him. There was a twist of her arm (enough to cause discomfort, naught else). He regained himself, "....Perhaps that a fate... to be a harem-woman to a pasha. But that is not your fate, now....." He brought her back to stand in front of her. "Here," he said, meeting her gaze, "Here you are a well-treated servant....." But his own eyes held questions. Why was she in a position to be in servitude, why had she not attempted to ransom herself back to her own? Merchant woman or not, she had the bearing of wealth.
When he grasp her she stilled panic sealing the fate as he pulled her back and planted her before him, " I am no ones servant.. you bought a body, but not a soul... " her voice had taken on a arrogance that almost pitied him... her eyes locking with his for a long moment.. a battle of wills... " I do not consider being held against my will as well treated.. " now her chin tilted up even more to meet his gaze... her breath was erratic.. and the closeness of him cloying... why would he just not release her... back to her duties of laundry and kitchen drudgery.. why must she serve him personally..
What would she do, when she saw him raise a hand? Then he delivered a stinging, open-handed slap to her face. One that would leave her cheek red, but lack the bruise. This had been the first time that she had been struck or maltreated in his service.... no matter what she considered herself. "Wether I purchased a body or a soul, you now my servant...." He used his hold on her arm, to bring her closer. "If being held against your will, is the worse I do....." He said not else. She should count herself lucky. He was a good master. He did not casually abuse her or mistreat her -- which had made the slap shocking. He leaned in close. "You are no longer what you were. You are now my servant, to do as I will....." And with that, his hand came up again. But he did not slap her this time, he grabbed her chin with his hand. And pulled her into a rough kiss.
She gasp.. but did not cry out at the slap.. her eyes widened and brimmed with tears that she refused to let fall... she trembled against her will as she was pulled against him.. and he ground out his ownership of her in words before her lips... she did cry out... when his lips claimed hers.. a whimper against his own her body going rigid in his grasp.. "non.... non" it was a small suplicative voice that begged him to stop..his roughness...
What would she do, when it seemed her words were answer? He released his hold of her arm, and draw away. Not so far that she could flee.... but so that there was some small space before him. Did she flinch, when his hand came to her cheek again? It was not a slap. It was a soft, gentle caress. There was a sigh, before he said, ".... pray.... forgive me...." What would she do, when the hand that held his cheek gently moved to guide her close once more? Did she go to his embrace, or flinch away?
If she came to him, he would try to atone for his earlier roughness. His lips would again meet her own. But in a gentle brush of lips.
Doe eyes closed, lashes fanning over her cheeks like veils... as he stoked her cheek... her heart begin to thud beneath her breast and her breath seemed shallow and fluttery like that of a caged wild bird beating against it's cages bars... He guided her against him once more and his words rang out in her ears... you will do as I Will , she had been beaten before.. by these infidels that had taken her, and would likely suffer the fate again... but the truth of her fate settled about her like a grim mantle...this was her life now... she belonged to him... now she did not fight him but merely stood submissive for the moment as his lips brushed across hers... the only tell that she was unwilling.. a slight flinch of her hands as she fought to keep them from clawing his eyes out.
He stood there, looking down upon her. Breathing softly. Breathing in the scents of the dining hall. Was being in his employee any different than being in a Ottoman's harem? The meal that had been prepared was, now, largely forgotten. The Frenchman canted his head, studying her form. Then he said, gently, "Come with me....." And he would guide her back to his room. How well and truly had her fate settled on her? One wondered if she might fathom what his will -- his desire -- was. There would be no doubt when they got to his room. Once she had entered, he would close and lock the door behind her. Then he said, "Disrobe....and then go to the bed...." as he began to disrobe himself.
She stood in the middle of the room, and flinched as the door lock clicked it's tumbler into place sealing her fate.. her face paled as he begin to undress and she turned away... bumping into the bed as she tried to put distance between them " I'm sorry I did not behave... well.. I will do better..." her broken language was stilted by panic even worse than before... her fingers plucking at the alien skirt as if it were a shield
There was a few moments hesitation, as he watched her. "I apologize for lashing out of you, when I should not......." Odd, for a master to say that to a servant. He would go to her, then, standing before her naked. What would she do, when he reached down to gently take her hands in to his? He pressed them together, to stop their nervous indicting. Then he would press his hands to her chest. Her hands thus captured, he would lean down. To her, he murmured, "Ssssh...." Did he lean closer? "Sssh...." There was another caress of his lips against her own. Soft and gentle, allowing it to linger. Did she enjoy his kiss? Or seek to break it? What of when he took his hands from her own? "Here," he said. He would go to a table, to fetch a small glass of wine for her. There was a soft smile, "It will help your nerves...."
"I cannot" she refused the wine... "it is unclean" she was not being disobedient, but in her belief wine that was not kosher was not to be born on her lips... when he had caressed her and apologized she had thought for a moment that he would release her.. but as she felt his arousal thru the skirt she knew it would not be her fate this night.. she swallowed harshly and took a deep breath waiting for his next move.
There was a pause, as he canted his head. Then he nodded quietly, "Very well...." She could feel his own arousal. But there was a question, of course. What of her own? Was she truly immune to his charms? He had not want to take from a woman had no desire, when there were so many who could willing give it. His next move would be to sigh, before he moved to sit on the bed. Where did his desire begin...and the boundary to what he would not do begin? She was his. This was his will. But he was not a monster. At last, he patted the bed beside of him. "Come here, Jisella......"
She watched as he moved away.. noting the struggle within him as he seemed to fight with himself over the doings of the night... when he called her to him she moved slowly to stand before him then knelt before him... " Please...." she could not find the words in his language had never heard one beg for salvation.... " I will not please you... I do not know men " her words were broken... and perhaps he did not believe her... after all she had been a slave to crusaders... how could she be and innocent...
"please... Merci…”
He reached out, to lightly touch a hand to her forehead. Much like a priest giving benediction. He smiled softly. Then he moved his hand to caress her cheek, saying, "You do not know if you shall please me ore not......" Then he said, "And it would be easy to teach you the ways of men...." He sighed, thinking. What would be gained from not taking her this night? It would always be there, something between them. Something lurking. Always the threat of it. Of him, at last, taking her. He sighed
and looked into her eyes. To see if she knew it too. Then he said, "If we do not do it this night..... it shall be some other night....."
It is one thing to know you might be doomed.. another to see the gallows with a clear line of sight... as he spoke they came into view as clearly as if she were stepping upon them.. now she had the choice of stepping up and accepting her fate as a Daughter of the King.. or to cower like a slave...crying and falling to her knees... they play across her face was telling as her thoughts focused and then solidified... slowly she stood... and backed a step away from him... trembling fingers begin to unhinge
the row of buttons at her throat downward over the bodice of the western dress she wore... an escaped tendril of long dark hair hiding the shame on her cheeks as she worked.. frustrated by the lack of cooperation the buttons gave her flightily fingers.. how was it that when she convinced her self to submit ... her clothing would not.. dam these western dresses.
The bed creaked Her master had risen. He walked toward her, a soft smile on his face. Tinged with.... sadness? He took a breath, forming a thought in his mind. He prayed to any power that heard, that the words he was to speak would not become a lie. He would put his hand to her cheek again, gently guiding her head so that their eyes met. "I know that you submit in what you do....but know, as well, that I think it very brave." That was true. "After this night, know you shall
be my servant...and, something more. Know that you shall be *my* lover, always." Meaning that he would not ask her to submit sexually to others. "I hope that.... some day.... we may even feel that." Then his hands would move to her buttons, to help her undo them.
She heard his words though a dim fog, and they settled within the recesses of her mind... soon she would find herself going over them in days to come.. not fully understanding the meaning in them but for now.. she was consumed with maintaining what dignity she had left.. of holding onto some form of honor.. shivering slightly as his hands moved over her buttons pushing the dress downward.. she felt invaded.. but unlike the examinations she had suffered rough and prodding by the men who had taken her captive... there was no painful slaps or pinching.. no rude poking... his hands by comparison were warm and gentle.. as the chemise fell to the ground leaving her in the western lace pantaloons.. with their drawstring waist..knee high stockings and pointy toed shoes... her breast now bare to him she lifted her arms shielding herself.. out of instinct.. and closed her eyes tightly... " I have no name to call you" that was the only thing she could focus on... what was his name...
There was a grimace. Damn. He should have told her sooner. He took a breath, before saying, "My name is Benoit deChagny......." Benoit, ironically, meant 'blessed'. Was a true invasion? Perhaps. But he wished her to, at least, have some joy from this night. When she crossed her arms over herself - to shield her breast - he was content to let her have that. What would she do, when the tie at her waist was undone? "You can call me Benoit....." He murmured.
