Post by Zola Ben-Schmule on Jun 23, 2011 20:18:09 GMT -5
It was my first official day as an apprentice in my dad’s shop and I woke early, performed my household chores and ran down the street to the shop. Father was already there waiting on me, ready to show me the days tasks. We had two suits to piece together for some nobility and a dress for a lady of Azalle. I was first send to the back room to get the roll of velvet and gold trim. He would then show me the patterns and I could begin cutting accordingly. The bolt was large, but light, at least to me and I was thankful for the years of helping my father in law with the stone and masonry.
I brought them back to the actual work room, where the fittings and the sewing was done. Father gave me the pattern for the gown saying that it would take about the same amount of time as the doublets for the men. I took the pattern and walked over to the table and spread it out. I started with the skirt, the simplest part, though the layers of it would mean a lot of repetition. We were starting with the outer, velvet layer of course. I began trimming and whistling a happy tune at the same time, about a man who climbed to a mountain, wishing to see the One God.
I decided to take a look at the rest of the pattern, the bodice and the sleeves, or rather the lack of them. I noticed the neckline too. I blinked, shocked, not at the fact that such people wore such, or that my father had designed it, but that I was making such a thing, and I would have to fit this on a woman’s body. Then I did something that sent a wave of guilt through me that pierced my soul, I took another look and in a flash I could see it on Her, tight fitting with curves that called out to me, a bosom that all but spilled out. And, for a boy my age such thoughts naturally led to arousal and I felt the press of it against my trousers. My hand started to reach down.
“Ouch!” came the voice of my father, pricking himself on the scissors. It was enoguh to snap me out and bring in the deepest guilt I had ever known. I ran into the back room and shut my eyes Father in Heaven, please forgive me. Clean my mid I beseech you and do not hold this sin against me. I repeated the words over and over until the image faded from my mind.
My father came back and put his hand upon my shoulder. “Son?”
“Father … the dress. I know women wear such things...”
“They are not of God, know. However to live in this world we must have money and that is our skill. We must create what they want even though we do not give ourselves over to sin. To lust, to incite lust are all darkness in the eyes of the One God. However, We do not judge the sinner for what they do for they are blind. We are in the world but not of it. We must just be certain that while we do our best for them we do not become like them. Do you understand?” He explained.
“I think so Father.”
“Good, my son. Now how about you work on the doublets and I’ll take care of the dress?”
I nodded and happily went out to switch, the guilt and temptation gone for now. However I knew, deep down, that it would always be a struggle.
I brought them back to the actual work room, where the fittings and the sewing was done. Father gave me the pattern for the gown saying that it would take about the same amount of time as the doublets for the men. I took the pattern and walked over to the table and spread it out. I started with the skirt, the simplest part, though the layers of it would mean a lot of repetition. We were starting with the outer, velvet layer of course. I began trimming and whistling a happy tune at the same time, about a man who climbed to a mountain, wishing to see the One God.
I decided to take a look at the rest of the pattern, the bodice and the sleeves, or rather the lack of them. I noticed the neckline too. I blinked, shocked, not at the fact that such people wore such, or that my father had designed it, but that I was making such a thing, and I would have to fit this on a woman’s body. Then I did something that sent a wave of guilt through me that pierced my soul, I took another look and in a flash I could see it on Her, tight fitting with curves that called out to me, a bosom that all but spilled out. And, for a boy my age such thoughts naturally led to arousal and I felt the press of it against my trousers. My hand started to reach down.
“Ouch!” came the voice of my father, pricking himself on the scissors. It was enoguh to snap me out and bring in the deepest guilt I had ever known. I ran into the back room and shut my eyes Father in Heaven, please forgive me. Clean my mid I beseech you and do not hold this sin against me. I repeated the words over and over until the image faded from my mind.
My father came back and put his hand upon my shoulder. “Son?”
“Father … the dress. I know women wear such things...”
“They are not of God, know. However to live in this world we must have money and that is our skill. We must create what they want even though we do not give ourselves over to sin. To lust, to incite lust are all darkness in the eyes of the One God. However, We do not judge the sinner for what they do for they are blind. We are in the world but not of it. We must just be certain that while we do our best for them we do not become like them. Do you understand?” He explained.
“I think so Father.”
“Good, my son. Now how about you work on the doublets and I’ll take care of the dress?”
I nodded and happily went out to switch, the guilt and temptation gone for now. However I knew, deep down, that it would always be a struggle.