Post by Rosalie de Merteuil on Apr 15, 2008 15:20:53 GMT -5
I sat in the parlor of the Cherbourg estate, playing chess with Martin Cherbourg. He was awfully handsome, especially when he furrowed his brows when concentrating. The only thing more handsome than he, and the only thing I really wanted out of this little visit, was their prizewinning stallion, Brego. Mother and I made a bet that I would not acquire it by the end of the day, but I was about to show her.
Lifting up my knight, I set it down on the board. “Checkmate.”
Martin threw up his hands. “I swear, Rosalie, for a lady as lovely as you, you are terribly shrewd.”
I let out a girlish giggle. “Oh no, Martin,” I said. “Believe me, ‘twas just beginner’s luck.” I looked out the window. The sky was beginning to turn pink, and I knew I had to make my move now. “Shall we go to the fields to watch the sunset?”
Martin grinned. “Certainly.” Rising, he came to my side of the table and offered me his arm. Graciously I took it.
We walked out of doors and through the fields of wheat. “The sky is so lovely, don’t you think?” I asked.
“Yes, it is,” he said. He stopped walking to push one of my curls behind my ear. “But not as lovely as you.”
I giggled and blushed again, even as my insides were sighing at the triteness of the comment. I tilted my head fetchingly, and he placed a soft kiss on my lips. Excellent. I returned his kiss fiercely, pressing my body to him. In his youth, he became hard rather quickly, and bore me down to the ground, his weight pressing pleasantly on me. With one hand, he freed his stiff phallus, and with the other, pushed his hand up my skirt.
That was enough. With a deep breath, I began to shriek. I shrieked wordlessly and urgently. Martin jumped up off of me. “Rosalie? What’s the matter?”
“Rape!” I cried. “You were going to violate me! Rape!” I began to yell and cry. Servants began to gather. Martin looked dumbfounded and extremely guilty, tucking his soft thing back into his breeches.
An older, finely dressed man, came running, and I curtseyed deeply. “Marquis!”
“Madamoiselle!” He said. “What on earth is the matter?”
“Your son,” I hiccupped, “he, he…” I burst into loud sobs.
“Now, now, don’t fret, my dear,” he said, coming to me. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”
“No!” I wailed. “I’ll be writing to the proper authorities, you can be sure of that!”
“My dear,” the Marquis said smoothly, “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement about this.” He shot his son a dirty look.
I quieted my sobs to soft weeping. “Yes?”
“Why don’t we give you a lovely gift for your troubles? Anything you wish, my dear. What do you love more than anything else?”
Here was my cue. “Oh, I do love horses,” I said, sniffling.
“Then I think we have just the one for you, a horse as fine as you are a fine lady,” he said. Snapping to a servant, he said, “Louis, send Brego home with Mlle. Merteuil.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t take him,” I said, “some other horse will do just fine.”
“Nonsense,” said the Marquis. “Brego it will be. I think it a good price to pay for my son’s foolishness.” Another dirty look for poor Martin.
“Well,” I sniffed, “if you insist.” I looked at the dark sky. “Forgive me, but I must take my leave.”
“Yes, of course,” said the Marquis. “I will escort you to the front.” He put an arm around my shoulders. We walked back across the field to the carriage house, and I went home, Brego tied like a beautiful adornment to my carriage.
Lifting up my knight, I set it down on the board. “Checkmate.”
Martin threw up his hands. “I swear, Rosalie, for a lady as lovely as you, you are terribly shrewd.”
I let out a girlish giggle. “Oh no, Martin,” I said. “Believe me, ‘twas just beginner’s luck.” I looked out the window. The sky was beginning to turn pink, and I knew I had to make my move now. “Shall we go to the fields to watch the sunset?”
Martin grinned. “Certainly.” Rising, he came to my side of the table and offered me his arm. Graciously I took it.
We walked out of doors and through the fields of wheat. “The sky is so lovely, don’t you think?” I asked.
“Yes, it is,” he said. He stopped walking to push one of my curls behind my ear. “But not as lovely as you.”
I giggled and blushed again, even as my insides were sighing at the triteness of the comment. I tilted my head fetchingly, and he placed a soft kiss on my lips. Excellent. I returned his kiss fiercely, pressing my body to him. In his youth, he became hard rather quickly, and bore me down to the ground, his weight pressing pleasantly on me. With one hand, he freed his stiff phallus, and with the other, pushed his hand up my skirt.
That was enough. With a deep breath, I began to shriek. I shrieked wordlessly and urgently. Martin jumped up off of me. “Rosalie? What’s the matter?”
“Rape!” I cried. “You were going to violate me! Rape!” I began to yell and cry. Servants began to gather. Martin looked dumbfounded and extremely guilty, tucking his soft thing back into his breeches.
An older, finely dressed man, came running, and I curtseyed deeply. “Marquis!”
“Madamoiselle!” He said. “What on earth is the matter?”
“Your son,” I hiccupped, “he, he…” I burst into loud sobs.
“Now, now, don’t fret, my dear,” he said, coming to me. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”
“No!” I wailed. “I’ll be writing to the proper authorities, you can be sure of that!”
“My dear,” the Marquis said smoothly, “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement about this.” He shot his son a dirty look.
I quieted my sobs to soft weeping. “Yes?”
“Why don’t we give you a lovely gift for your troubles? Anything you wish, my dear. What do you love more than anything else?”
Here was my cue. “Oh, I do love horses,” I said, sniffling.
“Then I think we have just the one for you, a horse as fine as you are a fine lady,” he said. Snapping to a servant, he said, “Louis, send Brego home with Mlle. Merteuil.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t take him,” I said, “some other horse will do just fine.”
“Nonsense,” said the Marquis. “Brego it will be. I think it a good price to pay for my son’s foolishness.” Another dirty look for poor Martin.
“Well,” I sniffed, “if you insist.” I looked at the dark sky. “Forgive me, but I must take my leave.”
“Yes, of course,” said the Marquis. “I will escort you to the front.” He put an arm around my shoulders. We walked back across the field to the carriage house, and I went home, Brego tied like a beautiful adornment to my carriage.