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I chose BDSM as the category as the chapters will continually lean more and more in that direction. I would love feedback and I hope you enjoy 😉
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Veras was even grander than Arya had expected, full of delicate spires and immense stone mansions. Even the poor section which they had to cross to reach their destination was surprisingly free of beggars and cripples. She had been pained to see children running barefoot with tattered clothes, but was assured that they were far better off than orphans in other cities. She had let out numerous cries of delight as they reached the wealthier sections with their miniature castles, bright gardens and terraces, and tree lined streets.
The men and women walking or riding past their carriage were dressed in luxurious clothes, their hair done and faces flawless, no matter their age. She began to feel ashamed of her own plain clothes and grimy exterior. She asked Madame Marguerite hesitantly if she would even be allowed into court looking the way she did. Marguerite let out an uncharacteristic laugh and informed her that she would be receiving a brand new wardrobe when they arrived, along with personal assistants to do her hair and makeup.
“They would certainly not receive you at court without the preparation.” Marguerite said. “The people of Veras have the highest standards and if your father wasn’t quite so rich you would never have made it past the front gates.”
Marguerite paused, seeming to choose her words carefully before speaking. “Things look very grand to you, I know, but I have spent many years in Veras and the high and mighty are not always as grand as they look.”
“What do you mean?” Arya asked, confused.
Marguerite shook her head. “You will find out soon enough. The only advice I can give you is to watch your tongue and keep your thoughts to yourself. You have been given excellent training and if you are able to keep up the court façade, you will do fine.”
Arya began to understand, “I must not know let people know what I am really like, you mean? For fear that people won’t like me?”
“It is not a matter of like or dislike, it is a matter of survival.” With that Marguerite shut her mouth and refused to speak anymore on the matter.
Arya pondered this conversation as they continued to drive past larger and larger mansions, the streets no longer filled with merchants or people walking. She did not notice these changes, however, as she was pondering her master’s words. Why am I to be a pretty face without emotion or free thought? I assume that is what she means, although I cannot fathom why that would matter. How am I supposed to attract a husband if I cannot show people who I am? Who would want to marry someone they don’t truly know?
Her thoughts were broken as they reached their destination and she was escorted to the main door of the mansion in front of her. Her aunt and uncle were outside, flanked by two lines of servants. They smiled at her and embraced her, asking how her journey was. Arya blushed as she remembered the humiliation she had suffered in the river, but managed to provide a satisfactory reply.
She spent the next several days being pampered and primped, and attempting to get to know her aunt and uncle. Her uncle she saw rarely, except at their formal family dinners. Her aunt was also busy, attempting to create interest in her niece by going to parties and dinners, raving about her niece’s beauty and wit.
When she was with her aunt, she received tips and advice as to how to navigate court. Many of these she had been taught by Master John, but some were more interesting.
“I know that your master will not have spoken of this to you, as it is of a… sensitive nature.” Her Aunt Agatha said, giving Arya an appraising look. “You may have learned some things about the relations between men and women, have you not?” Arya blushed and nodded. “Hopefully not too many things?” Her aunt said, her gaze sharp.
“No, Aunt.” Arya replied dutifully. “I have heard gossip but I have never had relations with a man.”
“Good,” her aunt said with relief. “There are many country girls who come here with far more experience than is good for them.” She paused again. “You will learn of these things in time, after your marriage of course. I will give you one piece of advice, however. Relations with a man may be uncomfortable and distasteful, but it is a necessary part of marriage and you must always pretend to enjoy it.”
Arya blushed at her words, but not for the reason her Aunt suspected. She blushed as she remembered how close to orgasm she had come when she had been violated in the river. He was right, she thought in despair, I am not a lady. Marguerite was right to tell me to hide my true feelings… surely no one would want a wife who takes such enjoyment in humiliation.
“Thank you Aunt, I will remember your words.” Arya said, downcast. Her aunt didn’t seem to notice Arya’s change in expression as she turned, smiling, and began chattering bursa altıparmak escort away about dresses and hairstyles.
Arya ignored her, lost in her own thoughts, guilt and worry gnawing at her.
Several days later Arya found herself in an enormous silk and tulle gown, floating through the gilded gates of the court. Part of her hair was twined in braids which formed an intricate headband, the rest in long, curled locks draped down her back. Her makeup was simple, her luminous skin the main feature. She felt constricted by the tight corset, but knew her bosom looked larger than it really was and her waist much smaller, so she didn’t mind.
They were heading towards a grand ballroom filled with light and laughter, the younger generation dancing and chatting. Their older relatives watched carefully, their faces expressionless as they talked amiably to their neighbors. Arya was shaking with nerves as her uncle lead her regally towards the gathering ahead.
Several people turned to watch her approach, but the majority seemed not to notice. Arya walked through the crowd towards the dias where the King and Queen sat demurely on their thrones. Arya kept her eyes down, anxiety flaring as she imagined all the eyes on her. She flickered her eyes up as she walked, gaging her audience’s reaction. She was surprised and uncomfortable to see that those who ignored her were not quite so oblivious as she had first though. Many would glance at her for a moment, then look away quickly as though they were ashamed to be caught looking.
The music stopped as she approached the dias, and now everyone turned to look. A stately gentleman coughed, and her uncle responded by quietly informing the man of Arya’s name, birthdate, and family status. The man introduced her to the court, and the King and Queen dipped their heads in acknowledgment. Arya curtsied prettily, blushing. They seemed unimpressed, and quickly ignored her. This made Arya blush harder, and her uncle lead her away without another word.
“That went well,” He said, satisfied.
“Well?” Arya asked. “But they didn’t say anything!”
He looked at her with a warning glance. “This is not the place to speak of such things. Know that their silence is far preferable to their remarks, however. Several girls have not made it past their gaze, the disapproval of the King and Queen making no man desirous of their company.”
“But why would they disapprove? What were the qualities which they found so abhorrent?”
Her uncle shrugged. “Sometimes they were ugly, or stupid, or came from families the royalty didn’t deem important enough. Sometimes the Queen was simply having a bad day and was jealous of the girl for being better looking than her. But I really should say no more.”
Arya looked at him with wide eyes, glad she had not known. She doubted she would have had the courage to stand up against such opposition if she had known of their fickle nature. She was relieved when her uncle led her to outskirts of the gathering, for she needed a moment to compose herself.
She hardly had a moment of peace before a large woman strode forcefully towards them, practically dragging her son behind her. He was small and timid, and skinny in the extreme. Arya curtsied and the woman and her uncle exchanged niceties. Arya smiled at the boy, seeing his nervousness. He looked back at her with a blank face before staring rudely at her bosom. She looked down quickly, confused. His mother finally turned to Arya, her gaze scorching the girl as her eyes raked over her.
“Lady Arya, we are delighted to make your acquaintance. I’m sure you will be a lovely addition to our little parties.” Her voice was deep and loud, drawing the gazes of those around.
“Thank you Madame,” Arya relied quietly. “I am honored to be here.”
The woman sniffed, unsatisfied with the response.
“I hear you are from Parnage. It seems a small, out of the way place with nothing to recommend it. You are hardly removed from the beasts in such conditions, I am told.” Her voice was haughty, and Arya was taken aback.
She paused before speaking, taking a moment to form a suitable reply. “It is certainly small and remote.” She said carefully. “But I am glad I grew up there as I learned how to be gracious and civil to all sorts of people. A luxury of the city is that wealth separates you from having to converse with those who have no semblance of civility.”
She spoke quietly in a calm, deferential voice. No one listening could have accused her of suggesting the fat woman was uncivil, but the woman’s eyes narrowed in dislike.
She heard a chuckle behind her and turned, seeing a man before her, probably in his mid-twenties. His eyes twinkled as he said, “I am sorry to interrupt Madame, but I have something to add to the conversation.” He bowed briefly, hardly noticing her deep curtsy and her son’s surprise.
“Wealth does allow us many freedoms,” He continued, “but I fear the most gentile bursa nilüfer escort manners and training cannot entirely repress the beast in all of us, don’t you agree?”
The fat woman gasped, “How could you say such a thing, my Lord Eric? I, for one, have never felt the primal urges of a beast. And I doubt I know any proper men or women who have.”
“Ah, excuse me if you thought I was accusing you of being little more than a beast, certainly no one would suggest such a thing.” Arya could have sworn he winked at her as he spoke, but his glance was so brief she couldn’t be sure. “I was simply speaking metaphorically about human nature.”
The Madame nodded her head, out of her depth. “Well, I would certainly have been surprised to hear anything so ridiculous out of your mouth, Lord Eric. On matters of philosophy and metaphor I must defer to you. Please excuse us.” With that she turned, dragging her poor son behind her.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“Would you perhaps like to dance, Lady Arya?” He turned to smile at her, his hand held gracefully before him.
Arya smiled and took it, after receiving an approving, albeit surprised look from her uncle. The young man led her through the crowd to the dance floor, ignoring the looks they received. Arya felt a bit uncomfortable as his arm circled her waist, his touch warm but firm. She had been taught how to dance by her father, but had never been held this close by another man before. Except for him, she thought, blushing madly as she was reminded of her encounter at the river.
The man smiled down at her, thinking she was blushing in feminine modesty. “I am quite harmless, I assume you.”
Arya looked up at him with a start. “I’m sure you are,” She laughed.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” He ask, surprised by her reaction.
Arya shook her head, wishing she had not spoken so. “I meant nothing by it, sir. I just meant that I’m sure you are a very proper gentleman.”
“I certainly look the part don’t I?” He said with a wink.
“I have been remiss, however. I have not properly introduced myself.” He paused in the dance, disrupting those around him as he bowed to her, taking her hand. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Arya. I am Lord Eric, one of the many frivolous young men I am sure you will meet. However, I have the distinct honor of being the first to dance with you.” His lips curved in an ironic smile.
“I am honored to make your acquaintance.” She replied politely.
They resumed dancing, quiet for a moment. Arya looked at him through her lashes. He noticed her curiosity and smiled down at her. She noticed his eyes were light blue, a surprising and stunning color.
She faltered for a moment, before asking in a rush. “Excuse me, but what exactly did you mean when you were speaking of the ‘beast inside us all?'”
He continued to gaze at her, his look more intent. “I didn’t mean very much by it, I just wanted to rattle Madame Grace a bit. I suppose it was a bit rude but she can be a bit of a boor at times.” He smiled cheekily, and she looked away.
“Oh,” She said, a bit disappointed. He thought for a moment, then said, “I suppose I was being a bit serious in a way, though.” He spoke innocuously, looking around at the other couples as though more interested in their movements than the conversation.
“Really?” She said, equally nonchalant, her breath quickening. “How so?”
“Well, have you ever felt a desire to break free from our social constraints? To openly show your anger, distaste, or… some other desire?” He was now gazing down at her intently once again, his eyes piercing.
She looked up at him, knowing a bold response would be inappropriate, but desperate to know if she was alone in her deviant thoughts. She settled on a vague reply, saying “Such thoughts would be unladylike.”
“Ah.” He replied, looking away once again.
“However, I was not always raised as a lady.” She continued carefully. His eyes returned to her face, his face a composed mask. He gave no indication of interest, but she could feel the heat of his gaze.
“She was right, in saying that I was raised in a place where people are… closer to beasts than they are here. While I was raised with honor and gentility, I was not so constrained in my behavior as grand city folk like yourself.”
He raised an eyebrow, and she realized how her words may be construed. She blushed at her brazen words, quickly saying, “Not that I have ever done anything a lady should not. I simply meant-” She frowned, unsure how to continue. “class and dignity are not so important when all hands are needed for our lands to prosper.”
“Thank you for that clarification,” He said a bit facetiously, “For a moment I had the feeling you were about to reveal something far more interesting.”
She looked away, afraid he would somehow see her thoughts. “I assure you, sir, I am not quite so interesting as you all seem to expect.”
“Just bursa kentmeydanı escort a pretty face then,” He replied, his voice detached as he once again scanned the room in apparent boredom.
She grew annoyed. “I would hope an educated man would know that not every pretty face hides a vapid, vain simpleton.” Her voice was raised and she knew her words were not entirely civil, but his disdain irked her.
He smiled, and she suddenly wondered if he had purposely provoked her. She blushed Why must my feelings always be so plainly written on my face she thought, cursing her easily reddened cheeks.
“And an educated man may wish for a woman who is blunt, but knows honesty is a danger to one in such an environment as this.” He spoke with a smile, but she heeded the warning in his voice and nodded. They finished their dance in silence, and with a bow he departed.
Arya had barely gone a step when she was approached by another young man. He bowed with a flourish, “Lady Arya, your beauty and grace have caught my eye and I would gladly dance the next set with you.”
Arya winced inwardly at his arrogant tone but curtsied in the proper fashion, and took his hand.
She danced the rest of the night with different men, finding fault with all of them. The only men her age she knew intimately were her brothers, and compared to their easy manners and openness, the manners of these men were affected, insipid almost. She felt that they thought of her as no more than a trophy to parade around, and that by dancing with her they were bestowing a great honor on her.
She grew more and more irritated as the night went on, and began to wish for the quiet of home. She was overwhelmed by the noise and the constant interactions with strangers, and was drained by the constantly cheerful yet lifeless posture she had to assume.
She spent a few minutes alone, sitting with her uncle in an out of the way place as she caught her breath. Her thoughts drifted to Eric and she realized now how different he had been. At the time she had been rankled by his indifference when she had somehow sensed his curiosity. She had felt that there was an intensity and real intelligence in him, and had been confused by his rebuttal of real conversation.
She had quickly realized what Madame Marguerite had spoken of when she had mentioned the difficulty of court. She was unused to presenting and maintaining a mask in public; at home she was able to be herself, even if she had to act a bit more properly than she would have liked.
She wished she could have met Eric outside of court. She was curious about him, and wished to know him better. But she knew that unless he approached her she would not have a way to interact with him again. And as he had not sought her out after their one dance, she doubted he would do so again.
With a sigh, she stood up as another young gentleman asked her pompously for a dance, and led her away.
After a long and frustrating night, she fell into her bed with an unladylike flop and sighed. She began to dread the coming weeks, knowing she would have to repeat this experience many more times, as well as more intimate dinners and outings, if she was *lucky* enough to be invited. She turned on her side, feeling melancholy and wishing for home.
She was surprised to see Eric at a dinner party a few weeks later. She had hoped to see him at the two balls and three dinners she had attended since then, but had not asked anyone about his absence for fear of seeming too forward. After listening to the constant gossip of the other women, she understood the advice she had been receiving; these women were ruthless in their censure, attacking the clothes, manners, and most severely the promiscuity of the other women in their social class.
From then on she was sure to mask any emotion, and to behave in the most correct manner she could. She saw firsthand how the gossip of her peers, as well as their overbearing mothers, could ruin a woman’s reputation and leave her a spinster.
She longed for a friend, for someone to just have a conversation with who wasn’t interested in bringing down others or talking about the latest fashions. She was happily excited, then, when she saw Eric among a group of men at a party that night. He stood out, with his dark hair brushing his shoulders and confident stride. He was tall, and carried himself proudly, but not with the haughty manner of so many of his peers.
His eyes flickered over to her when she walked through the door, and she quivered as his gaze followed her curves down to her toes. His eyes flicked up to hers for a half a second, before he turned once again to his companions. His appraisal had been so brief she doubted anyone else noticed, but she certainly had. Her heart had started beating faster, and as her uncle presented her to their hosts she hoped they couldn’t see her hardening nipples.
They welcomed her and motioned her inside. Arya saw an acquaintance of hers at a card table and walked over to say hello. The woman turned and smiled at Arya, embracing her with false affection.
“Arya, my dear!” She cried, “It is so wonderful of you to join us. You look lovely, even if your earrings don’t quite match your dress.” She simpered, her smooth voice making the words seem innocent.
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