Isabelle Marion (closed)

[Desiree_Radcliffe]

Isabelle had no such thoughts in her head. She merely thought of heading to bed. She was, she found, very sleepy. The words of her benefactor had made her dizzy, almost. I will become a lady, and all due to this strange man!

And she wasn't quite sure how she found him. He was certainly attractive, in his way--there was no doubt he was handsome--but there was something about him which almost frightened her. Perhaps it was his eagerness to take her on as his ward. Was she young enough to be his ward, really? Or was she just being taken under his protection? In any case, she was unsure of his motives, and it made her uneasy. She was not going to go into this unquestioning, even if he insisted that she do so.

She was mollified when dessert arrived, after the long moments of silences throughout the other courses. As the valet poured the champagne, Isabelle nearly breathed a sigh of relief. She contained herself, however, and sat with her back straighter than usual, so that her breasts would not fall out of her slightly too large gown.

"Thank you, monsieur," she said softly as he toasted her, clinking her glass against his. She took a sip of the champagne, but it was more than enough. She set the glass down and smiled benignly at the still stranger, lowering her eyes modestly.

"It has been an interesting day, to be sure. I must thank you again for becoming my benefactor. You have been too good to me, though you say that kindness is not a trait of yours. I am in your debt for what you have done and what you plan to do. One never knows where life will turn one!"

 

[Maka]

Isabelle gave a kittenish little yawn, delicately hiding her pink rosebud mouth behind her hand. Like so much of her little mannerisms and movements, it was at once shyly demure and yet with a hidden, powerfully erotic charge to it. The genteel salons of London would not know what had hit them.

She sat straightbacked in her chair, clearly conscious of her dress' tendency to slip downwards, always threatening to expose a small but beautifully formed pair of breasts. Stroud made a mental note; for a time at least during her training, Isabelle would have to wear unsuitable and scandalous clothing. A girl as beautiful as her would have to become used to the male gaze as part of her schooling in composure.

After Isabelle had taken just a sip of champagne, even that much bringing a warm flush to her cheeks, Stroud finally nodded.

"You may retire. The work begins tomorrow."

 

[Desiree_Radcliffe]

Isabelle then excused herself from the table and went directly to her room. There she undressed and slipped into a gauzy nightgown that was again too big for her. She went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. In the dim light of the moon and candles, she could see the pinks of her nipples and the little triangle of red fur between her legs. The sight sent something of a jolt through her.

She hurried back to her bedroom and slid between the covers. Her sleep was fitful, and she woke several times, almost swearing that she saw someone in her room. But no, truly that was her half-awake imaginings.

The next morning she put on a pink velvet gown with a similar problem to the green one from the night before. The bodice was perhaps even lower cut. She frowned at herself in the mirror and tried to pull the bodice up, but was unable to much, to her chagrin.

The Comte would be coming today, and she had to be prepared. She kept her hair down, unable to find anything with which to pull it up, but brushed it until it shone quite radiantly.

She went down to breakfast, alone, and ate in silence, then entered the library. She moved to the chair and the book that she was reading, but could not help but look at his desk. It seemed to call to her, almost. However, she remembered his rules regarding it. She shrugged her shoulders and began reading until the Comte should come.