A Tribute to the Tower

[Laila]

Hello,

I am finally writing again. And I did it with the intention of having it put up here - but now I don't know. It seems to have a bit of a slow start for the library and I'm not sure if I hit the right tone.
So I thought I'd put it up here first and maybe you can help me a bit. Tell me if you like it so far - what I could improve. I only have two chapters so far but if there is any interest I'd post more as I am writing them.

Its a bit of a bdsm fairy-tale... there will be magic and gypsies and curses and a young woman thrown into all this. But this is just the beginning...

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Chapter One – The End of the Tunnel

The passageway was cold and damp. Rough stone walls lined the narrow corridor and what had once been a rich, red carpet was now a greyish pulp, hardly distinguishable from the moss that sprouted between the blocks of stone. It smelled of rodents and of decay.

Soleil shivered under the thin white linen dress, but the impulse to rub her hands together and place the warm palms on her cold stomach, hips and breasts was quelled instantly. For her hands were tied behind her back and could not warm her milky flesh, could not quell the goose-bumps that had erupted all over her arms and breasts. Her face a mask of proud indifference, it was only her small, hesitant steps that gave her fear away. Inwardly she squirmed at each squishy sound of her naked little feet touching the damp and rotten carpet. Every rustle, be it ever so tiny, made her want to throw her head around to look for rodents and spiders – but she kept her slow, painful pace, not moving any more than was absolutely necessary for her to keep going.

The corridor was long and only partly illuminated. Often, she could hardly see the ground beneath her feet. It was in these moments that she could close her eyes, and – for a heartbeat or two - imagine herself back at her little cottage, barefoot in the cabbage patch. A silent tear ran down her cheek – she would never see her little cottage again. Nor her father or her mother.

Finally, it had seemed like she had been walking for hours, the corridor felt less damp and better illuminated. She could feel it slowly sloping upwards under her feet. Her steps became slower and smaller until she came to a halt – her whole body revolting against taking one more step towards her destination. From not too far away, she heard the bark of a large dog and the creak of and old door and her chest convulsed in a desperate sob. She had been willing to play her part, to bear the punishment that her village had been subjected to for so many years, she had been willing to take it all on – but now, faced with the faceless terror of what she might find at the end of the corridor, her body rebelled. She found herself fighting the rope that bound her wrists – but to no avail. She could not even brush away her tears, could not stop them from staining the white linen that covered her bare milky breasts.

A second time, the deep bark disturbed the silence and this time she could just hear the resonating sound of a human voice, but she could not make out what was said. Her feet were cold, her wrists hurt and her chest trembled – but finally, facing the reality of her situation, she physically forced herself take another step. And another.
She only had these two options – go ahead or run home. And she no longer had a home – were she to go back, her village would be doomed to suffer, to starve, to live in misery for ten years until a new virgin bride could be sent into the tunnel.
She took another step, regained her resolve and with it, her slow, steady pace.

Finally, the corridor opened up into a small ante-chamber and a heavy wooden door at the opposite wall. Slowly walking into the middle of the room, she tried to calm her shaking breath, unable to look anywhere but the door.
There she stood for minutes, maybe half an hour unable to move. And even if she could – she had no free hands to knock, nor the voice to call out. Finally, he heard a rustle, and a dog barking, so much louder now that he was so close.

"Down, Marquis!" Said a low, stern voice… it was muffled and reached her only through the heavy door, but she could already tell that it was a voice that didn't need raising to cause a response. It was a voice that knew no disobedience.
With a loud, aching creak, the door opened and Soleil started and took a step back, when the largest dog, she had ever seen, loped through the crack in the door. Panting like he was, his long pink tongue hanging over his teeth, he almost looked like he was smiling, his huge grey head swaying. Sniffing loudly, he approached; his cold, wet nose poked against her hip and then he walked around her and licked her bound hands. A tiny smile creased her lips as she tried to look over her shoulder and to pull her hands out of the dog's reach. It tickled.

"Flushed out our little bird, have you, Marquis?" A deep, resonating voice asked amused. Soleil's head flew around, she stood perfectly still as she regarded the man, standing in the open doorway.
She estimated his age around 40, but she couldn't be sure. He was tall and broad-shouldered and was of that stringy muscle tone that made him look almost haggard under the thin, white shirt und simple breaches. If it were simply for his appearance, she might have mistaken him for a man-servant – but nothing about him allowed that conclusion - Not his stance, not the way he held his hands, not the superior twinkle in his cold blue eyes.

"A little plumper than the last one…" He commented coolly, with a small smile on his lips and she could see his eyes tracing her plush, swelling bosom, her small, feminine stomach, her narrow waist and her ample hips. "You'll do, little bird…" He cocked his head to the side and chuckled, "Patience, Marquis!" And then stepped aside, inviting her to enter with a casually elegant gesture of his arm.

Soleil, lowering her eyes, followed his unspoken command and hesitantly taking one step after the other and not making the smallest sound, she passed her new Master and entered into a lushly decorated hall. A fire was blazing in one of the fireplaces, warm, plush carpets covered the floors and pictures of far-away lands hung at the walls. Soleil stopped in the middle of the room, her naked feet sunk into the warm carpet and her tiny toes caressed the soft material.

"Turn around, child." Her Master said in his low unassuming voice and swallowing, Soleil obeyed. Her eyes cast to the floor, she stood before him, waiting. Waiting for her fate to show, for her death, her torture, her pain – but it didn't come.
The man took a few steps forward until he was close enough for her to smell the richness of his musky fragrance. His hand reached for her neck and the tips of his fingers danced on her cool skin, traced the line of her thin dress, and momentarily cupped her taut, pillowy breast. Soleil gasped and her eyes dared up to meet his in fear and confusion.

"You are beautiful."

In response, she cast her eyes down again, blushing, "You have been crying." He stated then, running his strong hand gently over her cheekbone.
"What is your name, child?" Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her face upwards again until her wide brown eyes looked up into his.

"Soleil… my Lord." She whispered, ever more conscious of her bound hands, her naked body under the paper-thin dress and the closeness of her Master.

"Soleil." He spoke her name like he would taste good wine, probing the sound of it, letting it resonate on his tongue. It caused a warm shiver to run down her spine.

"Learn to live under my rule, Soleil, and you might not have anything to fear. Learn to yield, like your body is designed to yield, and you might even find happiness. Sometimes. While it lasts." His smile suddenly seemed a little melancholy, but only for a moment before he patted her cheek and ran his fingers through her lush, reddish brown hair and finally chuckled at her wide-eyed expression, so full of innocent confusion, fear and hope. "You'll do fine."

In a sharp motion, he turned away from her and clapped his hands together. Soleil started and looked around. A woman had appeared from behind a curtain. Her hair was white as snow even though she didn't seem older than fifty and she was still beautiful, thin and soft as a willow-tree and at a gesture, she stepped into the room and approached with an elegant gait. Her feet, too, were bare, her dress, rich green silk, melted softly against the skin. Once in front of him, she curtseyed and kissed her Master's hand.

"My Lord?" She asked, her voice was low, warm and feminine and though her face appeared docile at first glance, Soleil thought she detected a glimmer of ardent adoration for the man in front of her.

Master cupped her cheek and gave her gentle smile before he nodded towards Soleil.
"Prepare her, and then take her to the drawing room."

[Laila]

Chapter Two – The gypsy's balm

Her Master had left the room without taking another glance at either woman and Soleil had followed meekly after the lady in who's charge her Master had left her. Her mind was full of questions but she dared not utter a single one. She had been prepared for the worst – would not have been surprised to be fed to a beast, or to be burned or starved or drowned. She was her village's tribute to the Tower - the place no one ever escaped from. She was a sacrifice. And now she was a stranger in a strange place with nothing in her experience that could help her as a guide to what was going to happen to her.

She found herself in a brightly illumined room, the walls and floors covered with pearlescent enamel, candles burnt everywhere; it was warm and humid.

"You may call me Clemence," The white-haired woman said with an ambiguous smile, "But in this house you only speak, when spoken to."
With that she stepped behind Soleil and untied her hands, which the girl quickly took to rubbing to alleviate the places where the rope had left her skin red and sore. "Thank you, Clemence…" She said softly, her voice still week and shaking, as though she hadn't used it for years.

Without haste or apparent gentleness, Clemence loosened the string that held her linen dress in place and then told Soleil to step out of it. Blushing, she obeyed and her hands hastened to cover her breast and her most private place. Clemence only chuckled, and shaking her head, impatiently slapped her hands away.
"You would do good not to do that in Master's presence…" she nodded to a corner, where vapour steamed out of a round wooden tub. "Stand in there."

She covered the few steps quickly and then, carefully, she let the toes of her right foot touch the soapy, foamy surface of the water and gasping, pulled it away. The young farmer's daughter had never bathed in water this warm or smelling this good.

"Go on, we don't have all day…" Clemence chastised and quickly Soleil gathered herself and proceeded to stand in the tub, facing the older woman, who picked up a sponge and proceeded to scrub Soleil's milky skin in silence. She scrubbed hard until her skin was pink from head to toe and the ordered her to stand back against the wall.
On the ceiling above her, a metal ring was worked into the enamel, ropes hung from it and before Soleil could protest, Clemence had already taken hold of one hand and fastened it to one of the ropes.
She felt shy in the presence of this beautiful, elegant Lady, who had such little patience with her. Growing up as she had, she had never been in a room this rich or among people of rank and standing. This alone made it almost impossible for her to rebel.

"Please…" Soleil whispered, scared of what was to happen but the older woman just scoffed.

"Nonsense, girl," she took hold of her other hand and tied it as well, and then proceeded to pull both of her arms high over her head. "You have much to learn."

She left and brought back a little wooden chest and a large iron pair of scissors. Soleil instinctively drew back but the older woman just sighed and drew a little stool closer to Soleil's naked flesh. "Spread your legs girl…"

Soleil tried, she did but it was too much – the scissors, the old woman so close to her private place and she couldn't, her muscles simply didn't obey her mental command.
"Don't be such a silly little girl…" Clemence reacted sternly and slapped her thigh hard enough to sting. "Or do I need to tie your feet apart as well?"

A little tear ran down Soleil's flaming cheek as she slowly opened her legs, baring herself to the woman's mercy. "Wider." Was the simple command and again, Soleil obeyed, burying her face against the crook of her arm, not looking at whatever was going to happen between her legs.

She heard the creaking of the scissors and felt an odd sensation of having her hair pulled. Finally giving in to curiosity, he looked down and saw how the older woman meticulously trimmed her reddish brown pubic hair. She couldn't watch the sharp ends of the scissors disappearing between her thighs but after a while she relaxed a little, trusting the woman's careful hands.

"Why… why are you doing this?" She finally dared to ask and without looking up, Clemence continued her work.
Finally, and Soleil had given up on an answer, she said simply. "Master wishes it so."

It seemed to go on for a long while and Soleil's thoughts drifted back to the hall, and her Master's touch that had confused her so.
"Keep still…" Came an impatient but amused command and snapped Soleil out of her thoughts. She realized that her hips had come to meet the woman's touch and she flushed deep red, looking away.

Finally the scissors were put down and Clemence stood up. She tied Soleil's hair up in a bun and picked up the little wooden box. "Master has a gypsy make this for him."
Eying the box curiously, Soleil frowned confused when, opened, the chest only seemed to contain a white balm of some kind. "What is it?" She asks sniffing the substance – it smelled oily, of herbs and earth.

"You'll see…" Clemence said almost gently now and begin to lather the young woman's skin in the substance. First her legs, her thighs, especially amply her cunt, then her arse-cheeks and all the way into the crack between them, all of which made Soleil gasp and squirm. But Clemence ignored her fussing, she wasn't intimately caressing the girl. It was a simple mechanical task that she performed, no different to her than sweeping a floor or taking a tray of tea to her Master's room. She worked her way up quickly and meticulously and after she had coated the soft place under the girl's arms, she lowered her ties until her hands where level with her neck, tied into a position of prayer and lathered her arms as well. Her face was left untouched.
Finally, she quickly washed her hands, placed an hour-glass on the little stool and left the room without another word of explanation.

Soleil watched her leave and then regarded the hour-glass. The sand seemed to run through it quicker than she was used to but she was unable to guess how long it might take until the it would run out. She tried to relax but soon, her skin began to tingle. She squirmed, rubbed her legs together and whimpered softly. What was that balm that coated her skin?
Another few minutes passed and the tingling had turned into a burning sensation that caused her rock her body convulsively, first stretching high on the tips of her toes, than hanging limply in her bonds, rubbing herself against the wall, her hips rotating, gyrating, desperate for release from this burning, burning pain. Tears swelled up in her eyes and loud wails and moans echoed through the room.
She had all but forgotten the little hour-glass but Clemence came back when the last grain of sand had fallen into the lower chamber. For a second, she watched the desperate girl and then took a bucked of cold water and splashed it all over the girl's chest. Gasping a little shriek, Soleil focussed on the older woman.

"Get it off me… please get it off me!" She begged, realizing that the water had supplied some relief.

"Patience…" Clemence advised but then dumped another bucked of cold water over her body and turned to scrub the balm off the squirming girl's skin. "Now, don't make such fuss…" She said almost mildly and her stern, impatient hands seemed to become gentler by the minute.
Finally, she untied Soleil and gently washed her face with a cold sponge, washed her tears away. Her skin was still sore, but the burning sensation had seized, her body was tired and limp. Clemence picked up another wooden box from a shelf and panic came to the girl's eyes.
"This will help…" Clemence said chuckling and then motioned to the enamel floor. "Look…"

Soleil focussed on the floor and finally saw many many tiny dark bits of hair on the white surface. She ran her hand over her lower arm and gasped in wonder at how soft it was now, and how there was nothing to obstruct her hand running over her smooth skin, it felt curiously fresh and nice.

"See… Master never lets you suffer without a reason." Sighing almost melancholy, she then began to apply the second balm, which true to her word felt soothing to her sore skin and smelled wonderful of jasmine.

Finally, she led her to the opposite wall and had her sit down on a stool before a full body mirror. Clemence massaged a balm into her hair, dried it, brushed it and brushed it again, curled it and fasted little white flowers into the tangles and braids and curls and finally smiled at the finished result. "You are a pretty girl…" She said softly with an air of sadness. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen…" Soleil answered and regarded the elegant woman's face in the mirror.

"I, too, was seventeen once." She said softly, "I, too, was a pretty girl…" But she snapped out of her moment of reverie and came to face Soleil. She quickly added a dash of red to her lips, and her nipples – again Soleil started, tensed and took a few moments to relax again. But Clemence didn't seem willing to explain anything and Soleil didn't ask.

"Stand up."

Again she did as she was told and didn't struggle when Clemence tied her hands behind her back again. "It suits you…" She says, "it makes your breasts look beautiful." Looking down her own body, Soleil realized how they jutted forward, and her erect, red nipples pointed upwards.

"Come now, Master is waiting for you."

[walkingdude225]

i like...it dose seem alittle slow but really that can be fix by afew more teases of what you have planed for the rest of the story