Courtesan

[cgraven]

The traditional concept of the past is that until very recently women have had no real power down the corridors of history with few exceptions. This is not exactly true. In the Golden age of Islam women where teacher, physicians, and shapers of policy much as in they had been in the Roman Empire. In Western Europe they also where movers and shakers of History yet their role was not as open as it was in the east. These women where Courtesans highly regarded for their wit, cunning, and their poise in all social settings. They where neither prostitutes, nor mindless beauties suited only for marriage, breeding and social advancement. There is no denying that physical beauty could be an asset to gaining entry into the corridors of power, yet beauty with out brains would make for a very short lived career. That brings us to rural France towards the close of the 17th century the reign of Louis the 14th to the estate of the Count de Tulone a minor official at Louis’s court.

OOC

Looking for an imaginative writer to play the young woman who is scheming to become monsieur le Count’s Courtesan PM If you are interested.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

*helpful bump*

Looks like it's been a busy "night" on here!

DM x

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Avelaine De Beauvais

Avelaine shielded her eyes from the glare of the sunlight streaming through the window and grumbled half-heartedly at her maid for waking her.

"Shh! It is nearly four and there will be guests this evening again," Martine chided. She was an elderly woman and perhaps the only person in the household, or anywhere else for that matter, who dared to speak up or back to her, over time taking on the role of the mother that Avelaine never knew.

"Mmm... " Avelaine stretched languorously and sat up slowly to allow Martine to fluff several pillows behind her back. "I have a headache this morning, perhaps just some juice."

"Perhaps just a bit less cognac, Mademoiselle. And you will eat all that I have brought. You are far too thin for your own good."

Avelaine placed her hands under her breasts and hefted them up. "Pah! De Tulone says these are just fine. And so do most of the men who attend the salon. So there!" She stuck her tongue out as Martine slapped her hands away.

"Hush! And eat!" She placed the tray in front of her charge and began to straighten up her bedchamber.

Watching the woman fuss as she picked up stockings and trousers, Avelaine chuckled. De Tulone had left most of his clothing behind when he left her rooms in the early hours just after dawn. He was usually quite fastidious with both his person and his clothing but Martine was certain he left things behind just to irk her.

Breaking off a piece of a freshly baked roll, Avelaine slathered it with butter and took a bite. Private meals such as this were possibly the only time she truly ate to her heart's content. The hours spent outside her private chambers were spent in seeing to the delights and pleasures of de Tulone and others she might have a need to entertain. She had an uncommon talent for making him -- and the others -- feel as though they were the center of her universe. And in a way they were.

She had had a modest convent education, arranged by her father to protect her from the wolves. He had fallen on bad times, however, and soon gambled her away to Madame Charbonneau, an aging courtesan who was looking for a successor.

Avelaine fought her every step of the way until she met the handsome brother of one of the salonnières, Gerard Montagne. He had been so young. So handsome. She thought he had been in love with her. She chuckled at her foolishness. It had been all downhill from there -- until he spurned her and she learned how to climb up the mountain to reach its peak.

Now? Now she held the world in the palms of her delicate hands, with several men twisted around her little finger. Avelaine De Beauvais had become more than one man's fantasy realized. She offered love and intellectual conversation to men whose wives could barely (if at all) read. She influenced fashion and even political movements. All in return for gifts and offers from suitors jealous of her current patron.

And that is how she came to be here...

 

[cgraven]

Le Count De Tulone rose late that day mid afternoon his valet drew his bath. De Tulone his writing desk in place, a Turkish towel wrapped around his head reviewed the day’s correspondence. This one begged a favor, that one offered a most enticing bribe, and another his young daughter.

A young innocent daughter, thoughts of Madame Avelaine De Beauvais came drifting back to him, not so much the wild decadent trice of the night before but thoughts of the first day he had seen her. Of course in those days He was not the Minister of the Marine Department, in chare of all of France’s colonies, nor was he the principle investor in the company of a 100. No in those days he was a minor official lost in a sea of courtiers vying for position and power.

It was a delightful Spring day, Le Count De Tulone was hosting a soirée at is Chateau in the Louier. Madame Charbonneau arrived with a most delightful little morsel Mademoiselle Avelaine De Beauvais fresh from the Ursiline Covent school, so very young and so very innocent. Madame Charbonneau informed us of the girl’s background, a godly education, blessed with all the social arts, her virginity and purity was without question.

“Gentlemen I propose a little wager say 100 gold Louis' that none of you can in the course of this week seduce this young beauty.”

Needless to say several Gentlemen including myself took the bet. Ah most where younger, FOPS for the most part like Gerard Montagne, others old lechers like the Count de Guie who felt their illustrious position was enough to make the young beauty swoon. I on the other hand had learned that knowledge was power the key to Mademoiselle’s sweet charms would come through knowledge, and sweet seduction, slowly temping her to the carnal joys her young body naturally craved.

I watched her every reaction as the young FOP Gerard Montagne made his suave attempts to claim the prize and the posturing and strutting of Monsieur le Count de Guie. I bided my time till my agents brought me the information that would seal Avelaine De Beauvais fate. With it in hand I arranged to meet her in the boxwood maze on a matter of great concern.

“Perrier more hot water the Bath grows tepid.”

Ah such pleasant memories of how it had all started.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Avelaine De Beauvais

Avelaine ate under Martine's watchful eye, finally stretching again before slipping her long, shapely legs over the edge of the bed. A true redhead, as evidenced by the coppery nest of curls that covered her mound, she stood slowly and extended her arms toward the older woman who stood waiting to help her into a brightly embroidered silk kimono.

"Hussy. Guard your looks well, Mademoiselle... they will not last forever."

"But they will serve me for as long as need be, Martine. De Tulone seems quite content for the moment."

"Yes. But are you?" The older woman asked with a knowing look.

Ignoring her, Avelaine walked over to the chaise by the window and curled a leg up under herself as she sat. It wasn't the first time Martine had asked her this very same question, nor was it the first time she considered the answer.

Given a choice, this was far from the life she had imagined for herself when she was just a girl learning under the auspice of the Ursuline sisters in the convent. Frankly, she saw it now as a means to an end. A very profitable one.

The Beginning...

"Avelaine, this is Madame Charbonneau," Sister Albertine had said in her gentle voice. "Your father has sent her with a letter. She will be taking you... "

The next few months were a nightmare to the young Avelaine. She tried to run away several times, only to be hunted down and brought back by the Madame's henchmen -- the first time more gently than subsequent ones. The Madame, of course, reminded her that she was merely protecting her investment and that she, Avelaine, would come to see the value in remaining in one manner or another. Hopefully sooner rather than later. After the fourth attempt, she wasn't afforded another chance to leave on her own.

Avelaine spent the next year and a half learning the nuances of le bon ton. She was taught and made to practice proper and expected behavior at Court, drilled daily in the "who's who" of high society. Tutors came daily for music and voice lessons.

"One must have all the best qualities to be successful in this life, Avelaine" Madame had said. "You are a smart woman, but sometimes that can be to your detriment. You must mask the quickness of your brain with more subtle charms. Charms that will attract and... soothe the needs of men. Rich and powerful men.

Before long, she was introduced into the salons as Madame Charbonneau's protégé, her brother's daughter. Though most realized it was a falsehood they accepted it as truth, also accepting the unstated fact that Avelaine was being groomed to replace her. It was simply the way of things.

Despite the hours of lessons and explanations of what would be expected of her, capped with evenings in the homes of several of the more popular salonnières, Avelaine clung to her girlish dreams of a proper marriage with children and a husband to look after. With this in mind, she yielded to the advances of Gerard Montagne.

Oh, he led her a merry chase indeed. He called on her, sent her flowers and small pieces of jewelry. He did everything right -- until he expected payment in kind. "Foolish child," the Madame had chided her as tears streamed down her face. "This is not about affaires du coeur. This is about politics and power."

Indeed she had learned the hard way. But learned she had. Now she led them the merry chase. She was the prize and they would have to earn her.

With that in mind, she patted her elegantly coiffed hair and smoothed her hands over her dress. She had a note from Count de Tulone to meet him in the boxwood maze. He would have to make an offer better than the best, Avelaine thought as she hurried along the path that would take her to him. In her mind she could do no worse.

 

[cgraven]

Maurice Count de Tulone had been mildly taken by the vivacious little redhead he always appreciated the way Madame Charbonneau schooled her protégés. He was of course aware of the affaires du Coeur that had claimed her virginity as well as the clumsy way that Madame’s brother satisfied his carnal needs and then would cast away the girl, Avelaine De Beauvais was not the first and would not be the last.

Count de Tulone waited in the cool depth of the boxwood maze when the firry little morsel made her appearance. She had sense her fall from heavenly grace had developed quite the reputations in the salons as a coquette that led a rather merry chase.

“Bon Soir Madmosielle De Beauvais”

He gestured for the young Beauty to take a seat on the marble bench by him. He studied her and was quite pleased with her beauty.

“Madmosielle De Beauvais I am afraid that a career in the King’s service has left me quite blunt. I feel we could be of mutual benefit to each other.”

Maurice paused studying the young beauty’s every reaction, Avelaine was rumored to have a quick wit.

“Your beauty is flawless and you have the wit, to make much of yourself with the right patron Chere. At present you are a protégé of Madame Charbonneau a plum to be offered for her amusement and advancement within society is this, what you want?”

Again the crafty old soldier studied the girl.

“Or you can join my retinue and yes I shall school you to truly please men and I shall please you. If an advantageous marriage can be arranged to both our benefit then so much the better. The choice is yours let Madame Charbonneau trade your beauty and youth for her advancement…………………..I do believe Madmosielle De Beauvais you have found out all ready how the family Charbonneau rewards those they no longer have need of.”

 

[2basecret4u]

# Authors Note:
# Since this is my first submission here at literotica, I hope it makes the grade. I will be more than happy to add further char dev to this submission, if it appears the char may fit in someplace, and if not...
# End Authors Note:



"Bon Soir Mon Capitan..."

There were but a handful of occurrences in the life of the Count de Tulone, which could raise the hair on the back of his neck, and at the same time instill in him a sense of calm which accompanies the victor in the moment conquest. Like the rustle of a gentle breeze, which comes on the heels of a hurricane, and kisses the sweat drenched brow of even the lowliest of swabs, an inexplicable shiver enveloped his very being, and in that selfsame moment was gone.

“Pardon Moi Mademoiselle.” he said, without so much as a glance in her direction. She watched the Counts expression as the man came into their presence and stood before them in silence. A faint smile crossed his lips as he turned his attention to the man before them and nodded in acknowledgement saying; “Monsuire Edouarde, what word do you bring me?” Mademoiselle De Beauvais eyed the silver haired gentleman curiously as he parted his outer cloak briefly, revealing the deeply dyed Cowl he wore beneath trimmed only in what appeared to be a thin golden rope knotted intricately about his waist. Neither of the men in her presence seemed to notice her quizzical expression as she committed his attire to memory.

As if in a single fluid movement, Edouarde dipped his empty right hand into an opening within the midnight colored garment, invisible to the naked eye, and carefully retrieved a delicate looking wooden box. Extending his right arm towards the Count, Edouarde allowed the index finger of his left hand to linger a moment over the middle of the intricately carved top of the six inch box before pulling it back towards his chest, revealing the golden medallion set into its face. If there was any surprise on the face of the Count de Tulone, he did not let is show, as Edouarde said with an almost hushed reverence; “A gift from the Kathisma of St Demetrios, and a word of warning as well Mon Capitan.”

The expression on the lady De Beauvais face changed in an instant from simple curiosity to one of awe, and just as quickly to one of almost sheer disbelief as a gasp escaped her exquisite lips. “The Great Duke.” She exclaimed in a hushed whisper, as she lowered her eyes touching her right middle finger to her forehead, and then to the pale white flesh of her breastbone absentmindedly before she realized all eyes were now upon her. “Mademoiselle?” said the Count. His word sounded to her, both guarded and surprised all at the same time. Edouarde watched the sheepish look disappear from her altogether, replaced by one of defiance as she touched her finger to her pursed lips before composing herself enough to say in a tone bordering on matter of factly; “A young girl learns many lessons in a convent Monsieur.”

“Indeed.” Replied the Count with a half smile. The steely gaze of the silver haired gentleman softened momentarily, as he processed not only the words of their brief exchange, but the subtle nuances which accompanied them as well. Perhaps it was compassion which brought about so sudden a change in his expression, or was it something else, something more. Whatever it was she saw in his eyes seemed to last no longer than it took to push the memory of her years in near isolation from her mind, as she heard the Count say something about wanting to hear more about such lessons. As Edouarde shifted his gaze back to the younger man before him, it seemed that any momentary emotion he appeared to feel left his eyes, as surely as the blood seemed to drain from the face of the Count.

Sometime during the conversation Edouarde had ceased running his fingers over the intricate patterns which must have been carved into it by one of remarkable skill, and unbeknownst to the seated couple had slid back the lid of the box, revealing the two toned lining of deep forest green and crimson within. He held out the box to the Count in such a way that the contents within could not be seen by the woman at his side. As she leaned towards him a bit, trying to get a glimpse of what could possibly cause such a reaction in so seasoned a man of the sea as Le Count De Tulone, she felt rather than saw the stern look on the older mans face as she quickly turned her attentions to the surrounding foliage.

As the Count regarded the contents of the box he found his voice a bit uneven when he found himself asking of the words which accompanied such a gift. When he heard no answer to his question, the Count cleared his throat as if to speak, but before he could utter a single word he again felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising up as the older man flatly stated; “The Man who cares more for the ring on his finger, than the finger that wears it, may one day wake to find he has lost them both.” The eyes of the Count darted quickly to the contents of the box, just in time to see the lid being closed, then to the figure of the woman who had brought him to this place in his life, as she wandered among the meticulously trimmed hedges of the box maze, just out of earshot.

Turning back to the man before him, he realized that the box, now absent, had been replaced with a piece of crimson silk trimmed in gold, and rolled conspicuously around something , held in place by the ring he had just seen on the severed finger inside the box. As he stretched out his hand to accept this gift, he felt his wrist grasped firmly, his reflexes caused him to pull away, and the momentary shock which followed on the heels of the realization that he could not pull back from this, emotion swelled within him as images flashed rapidly through his mind, and with them came memories, which brought peace. He felt the object placed gently into is half opened hand as he gazed deeply into the eyes before him. “It was not many years ago, I delivered this same ring, in the same box, with the same words of warning. It was on that day the house de Charbonneau was born, while another one died out in obscurity. Today a new Marquis is titled, new lands are added and a new house is born.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

.